Please can we get a protective Fred Weasley??? Like maybe somebody hits on you and he goes boyfriend mode because he’s like six foot four and muscly AF?
She Said No
(Protective!Fred Weasley x reader)
‘When a guy at the Three Broomsticks won’t take the hint, Fred makes sure to clarify that you’re not available. Of course, this is done with fists.’
The Three Broomsticks is warm and loud, every table overflowing with Hogwarts students on a festive Hogsmeade weekend. You’re crammed into the biggest corner booth with basically everyone: Fred on your left, one long arm draped possessively across the back of the seat behind you; George on his left, stealing chips off Ron’s plate; Hermione opposite you rolling her eyes at the twins; Harry trying to keep Ginny from flinging peas at Ron.
You announce, “I’m going to get another Butterbeer. Anyone else?” Ginny nods her head yes, so you slide out of the booth, heading to the bar for another.
You’re enjoying the perfect chaos as the Landlady pours your drink and chats loudly to other patrons — until a cocky, Hufflepuff seventh-year that you recognise from Quidditch: he once played so dirty that he nearly broke George’s ankle. He shoulders his way through the crowd to the front of the bar, and stops right in front of you.
“You’re even prettier up close,” he smiles, eyes dragging over you like you’re a slab of meat. Then, he actually reaches across and brushes a strand of hair off your face.
You push the boy’s hand away, jolting backward and grimacing. “How kind.” He laughs, leans in closer, and opens his mouth to say something else. He never gets the chance, because you turn on your heel and head back to the table, two Butterbeers in hand.
That is until the boy tries to catch up with you, smirking like you’d just started a game with him. “Just hold on a minute, feisty, I wanted to ask you something—“ As he enthusiastically follows you from the bar, he grabs your elbow and causes you to drop both the Butterbeers.
You look down at the liquid spilled on the floor, the glasses thankfully still in tact. “Jesus Christ, take a hint, will you?” You scowl at him as he raises an eyebrow.
“Relax, I’ll buy you another. I just wanna talk.”
Before you can hit back at him, Fred is already standing up from the booth; at 6’3” he towers over everyone, and the low ceiling causes him to duck under the wooden beamed ceiling slightly. The movement is so smooth it’s terrifying. One second Fred’s beside you, large palm flat on the small of your back as he glances down at your irate expression, the next he’s shoving your pursuer gently by the shoulder. Fred effortlessly traps the boy’s wrist in his hand.
“I think you should just walk away, mate,” Fred says, voice perfectly pleasant. “Hmm?”
The Hufflepuff boy’s eyes flicker to you, then he scoffs and stares up at Fred, already a rival in Quidditch: now was a good excuse to hash it out. In a moment of rage and embarrassment, he swings at Fred’s face. His fist clips Fred’s chin, splitting the skin.
Fred’s expression falters as he registers the sting, stumbling back just slightly in surprise. “Christ, how stupid are you?”
You gasp as Fred slams the boy back against the nearest wooden pillar so hard the whole pub rattles.
“Fred!” You cry.
The boy curses Fred and charges; Fred doesn’t even move out the way, he just grabs the back of the much smaller boy’s neck, and drives a knee into his stomach. Air whooshes out of the guy in a pathetic wheeze. Before he can recover, Fred lands a clean, brutal right hook that turns the boy’s head sideways. Blood begins to flow from his nose.
George is on his feet now too, grinning like he’s enjoying the show. “Mind the furniture, Freddie!”
Ron’s halfway out of the booth ready to jump in, Harry holding him back with a hand on his shoulder and an expression that says this won’t last long anyway.
“Good thinking, George,” Fred mutters, picking the boy up off the floor and dragging him by his collar outside.
You glance back at the booth with an expression that says ‘somebody stop these madmen!’ The five of them spring to their feet as you follow the boys out of the swinging oak doors.
Now fighting on the snowy cobblestones, the boy lunges once more, tackling Fred around the waist, actually managing to drive him back a step; impressive, considering the height difference. They crash into an empty wheelbarrow, splintering wood. Fred grunts, wraps one arm around the guy’s neck from behind and hauls him upright like he weighs nothing.
“Enough, Fred! You’ll kill him!” You shout exasperated, storming toward the pair.
George catches your wrist. “Don’t spoil the fun yet, he’s about to win!”
You roll your eyes at George’s boyishness, then scowl back at Fred who has the boy in a headlock. “You got the message yet, mate?” Fred asks tightly, keeping his arm until the boy’s face. “She doesn’t fancy you, and you’re shit at Quidditch.”
The boy kicks Fred’s kneecap, then throws his head back to try and break his nose. Fred doesn’t dodge in time, cussing under his breath as he keels over and grips his nose with both hands, eyes streaming in pain. The boy, having escaped Fred’s grip, turns to your boyfriend again, eyes-wide and angry, ready to deal another blow to Fred’s usually smiling face.
“You tosser,” Fred snarls as he lunges to deliver a final punch to the boy’s jaw. Fred’s long arm sweeps across the boy’s face effortlessly, and he drops like a sack of bricks. Spire Street returns to its usual evening quiet, noise dampened by the snow.
Ginny’s voice rings out from the doorway: “Ten points to Gryffindor!”
Fred wipes blood from his split cheek and nose with the back of his hand, breathing hard. He turns back to you all. His eyes find yours immediately, softening.
“You all right, love?” he asks, voice rough.
You nod, heart hammering. “Are you? Christ, Fred, your nose could be broken!” You lean up to look at his nose, pushing his head side to side to see if the bone has been damaged. It looks mostly superficial, but you’re not happy, anyway.
George whistles. “Merlin, Freddie. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“Serves him right, the cheating bastard. He never plays fair in Quidditch,” Ron adds.
Fred smirks, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, and murmurs against your skin, “I’m a caveman at heart.”
As you all make your way back up the valley to Hogwarts, Hermione mutters something about “barbaric displays”, but even she’s hiding a tiny smile behind her scarf.
FUCK YOU to everyone who's posted memes under the harry potter x reader tag. all there is in the top section of the tag are memes. bitch fuck outta my face i wanna read fanfic not your horrible attempt at being funny
Summery| Fred Weasley has a huge crush on his brother’s best friend, but she’s completely oblivious. Between teasing her about her handwriting, stealing her food, and randomly braiding her hair, Fred thinks he’s flirting — she just thinks he’s annoying
Tropes|best friends brother|teasing|slow burn ish| Friends to lovers 
Ps-can you tell I’m going through my drafts?
You’d gotten used to being at the Burrow.
It was chaos — noisy, warm, full of mismatched furniture and even more mismatched personalities — but somehow, it always felt like home. Being Ron Weasley’s best friend meant you spent half your free time there, especially during breaks. Mrs. Weasley insisted on it, and Ron never minded. The only problem?
Fred.
Fred Weasley, the embodiment of trouble, the human form of a smirk. He was everywhere — perched on countertops, sprawled across couches, always ready with a joke that left you groaning or blushing.
He teased you relentlessly. Constantly. You were convinced it was just his favorite pastime.
Like the first morning of the summer holidays.
You were sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling something in a notebook probably writing Ron‘s essay for him when Fred leaned over your shoulder, eyes scanning your writing.
“Blimey, Y/N,” he said, mock horror in his voice. “I can barely read that. Is this supposed to be English or a coded message for the Death Eaters?”
You turned sharply, nearly jabbing him with your quill. “It’s notes, Fred.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding solemnly. “From the looks of it, you’ll need a translation spell to read them later.”
“Go away.”
“But it’s fascinating!” He snatched the notebook from under your hand and held it up. “Look at this ‘g’ — looks like it’s running for its life.”
“Fred!”
He grinned, handing it back with an exaggerated bow. “Don’t worry, love. I still like you, even if your handwriting’s a war crime.”
You rolled your eyes. “You don’t like me.”
He smirked, and for a fleeting second — just a second — there was something softer in his eyes. “Don’t I?”
Before you could answer, George strolled in and smacked his twin on the shoulder. “Stop terrorizing Y/N, mate. She’s going to hex your eyebrows off again.”
You hid a smile behind your quill. Maybe you would. Or maybe this time you’d turn them pink.
It was the same kind of teasing at Hogwarts.
In the common room, Fred always managed to insert himself into your conversations with Ron. You’d be talking about Quidditch strategies or homework, and suddenly, a pair of long fingers would start combing through your hair.
“Fred,” you said one evening, trying to ignore the feeling of a braid forming behind your head. “What are you doing?”
“Helping,” he said innocently, still twisting strands between his fingers.
“Helping with what?”
“Your hair,” he said, his tone all too casual. “It was just sitting there, looking bored.”
Ron glanced up from his chessboard. “Mate, what are you doing to her hair?”
“Improving it,” Fred said.
“I swear, Fred,” you muttered, reaching back to swat his hand away.
He dodged it easily. “You’ll ruin my masterpiece, Y/N.”
“Fred,” you said again, warning in your voice.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Relax. I’m an artist.”
You turned around — which only resulted in his half-finished braid falling apart. He looked mildly offended.
“Unbelievable,” he said. “You’ve destroyed it.”
“I didn’t ask for it in the first place!”
“Tragic,” he said dramatically. “My best work, gone before its time.”
Ron groaned. “You two are worse than mum and dad sometimes.”
“Oi!” you both said at once — and Fred broke into a grin at your synchronized outrage.
The teasing continued through everything.
At breakfast, he’d steal food off your plate, just to annoy you.
“Fred!” you snapped one morning as he snagged your toast right before you bit into it.
He just grinned, chewing obnoxiously. “You weren’t eating it fast enough.”
“That’s because you took it.”
“I’m saving you from cold toast, love. A noble act, really.”
“Then maybe save someone else next time.”
“Can’t,” he said, reaching for your pumpkin juice. “You’re my favorite victim.”
You huffed, shoving his hand away. “You’re impossible.”
But later that same morning, when you’d barely touched your lunch because you were upset about a Transfiguration essay, he quietly slid his plate over to you without a word.
You blinked down at the food. “Fred, you—”
“Eat,” he said simply. “Before Ron eats it for you.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but he gave you a look — still teasing, but a little softer. You gave in.
It took everyone else about two days to realize that Fred Weasley was completely, hopelessly, and ridiculously in love with you.
Everyone except you.
To you, he was just Fred — the annoying twin who teased you about everything from your handwriting to your posture, who laughed when you got flustered, who seemed to pop up everywhere you went.
When Hermione hinted at it once, you’d laughed. “Fred? No, he just likes irritating me.”
Hermione had given you a look that was far too knowing. “You really can’t tell?”
“Tell what?”
She sighed. “Never mind.”
One rainy afternoon at the Burrow, you found yourself alone in the sitting room. The others were upstairs — Ginny doing homework, Ron and Harry probably playing chess, and Fred and George, you assumed, were plotting new inventions in their room.
You were curled up on the couch with a book when Fred appeared, leaning against the doorway.
“You look cozy,” he said, eyes glinting.
“I was,” you said without looking up. “Until you got here.”
“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”
“Good.”
He came over anyway, plopping down beside you, far too close. You scooted away instinctively, but he just smirked. “I don’t bite, you know.”
“I’d argue that.”
He ignored that. “Whatcha reading?”
“Hogwarts: A History.”
“Thrilling.”
You looked up, finally smiling. “I like it.”
“Of course you do,” he said fondly. “You’d probably read a book about goblin tax laws and enjoy it.”
“I would not.”
“You would,” he said, grinning. “And you’d correct me if I said goblins don’t pay taxes.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”
He watched you laugh, the teasing fading into something else — something quieter.
You didn’t notice.
Fred tilted his head, studying you for a moment, like he wanted to memorize every piece of that smile. “You know,” he said softly, “you’re a lot cuter when you’re not scowling at me.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
He grinned again before you could answer. “Nothing.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re weird.”
“I prefer ‘mysterious.’”
“Sure you do.”
That evening, everyone gathered around the dinner table. Mrs. Weasley bustled about, Ron and Harry bickered over the last roll, and George was cracking jokes. You were sitting between Fred and Ginny when a sudden shout rang out from upstairs — followed by a loud bang.
“Fred! George! What have you done now?” Mrs. Weasley yelled from the kitchen.
George shot Fred a look. “You set it off too early!”
“I did not!” Fred said indignantly, jumping up from the table.
Mrs. Weasley pointed toward the stairs. “Upstairs! Both of you!”
Fred groaned, turning to you as he passed. “If I don’t survive this, remember me fondly.”
You smirked. “I’ll try not to.”
He winked. “That’s all I can ask.”
Later that night, when you were getting ready for bed in Ginny’s room, you heard a soft knock at the door. You opened it to find Fred standing there, hair tousled, still smelling faintly of gunpowder and soap.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about dinner. Mum nearly hexed me into next week.”
You grinned. “You probably deserved it.”
“Probably,” he admitted. “But I did bring you something.”
He held up a small chocolate frog.
You blinked. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”
He grinned. “No. It’s a bribe.”
“For what?”
“ to get you to admit you like me”
You froze, the teasing tone in his voice only half masking something sincere underneath.
“I—”
He smiled wider, the charm flicking back into place before you could say anything. “Relax, Y/N. Just teasing.”
You rolled your eyes, heart pounding. “Of course you are.”
But when he handed you the frog, your fingers brushed — and for a second, neither of you moved.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said softly.
“Goodnight, Fred.”
As he walked away, you caught yourself smiling — and for the first time, you weren’t sure why.
hey guys fred weasley throwing my legs over his shoulders and fucks me so good he can’t help but laugh at the puddle i am before him hi
Wicked
Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader
Word count:1149
Harry Potter Masterlist | request (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)
Warnings: Smut (18+), oral (f receiving), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, aftercare, fluff
Fred Weasley had a gift for many things,blowing things up, bending rules, getting out of trouble with a grin,but making you completely lose your mind might’ve been his most potent magic.
You were tucked up in his room at the Burrow,summer air warm, windows cracked open, and the low sound of enchanted wireless humming lazily from the corner. You’d stolen one of his shirts again, the old one from the shop with the neckline stretched and sleeves too big, hanging off your shoulder just enough to drive him mad.
He was watching you from the foot of the bed, eyes raking over your body like he hadn’t just had you the night before. Or the morning before that. Or up against the bathroom sink not twelve hours ago.
You peeked over the top of your book, trying not to smirk.
“You’re staring.”
Fred didn’t deny it. “I am. You look so good like that. All casual. Comfy. Completely fuckable.”
You snorted, but your thighs pressed together.
“Bit needy today, aren’t you?”
He tilted his head, grin wolfish. “You calling me needy? You, who literally screamed my name loud enough last night I think the ghoul in the attic clapped for us?”
You laughed, and that laugh earned a low growl from him. He moved, slow and controlled, like a lion stalking prey,crawling up the bed until he was hovering above you, nose brushing your cheek.
“You calling me needy…” he whispered, dragging his lips across your jaw, “…while you’re sitting here, soaking through my shirt with your thighs clenched and pretending you don’t want me to ruin you.”
Your breath hitched. “Fred—”
“Let me eat you out, Y/N.”
“...what?”
He grinned. “You heard me.”
“Yeah, I just—no foreplay? No kissing? No—”
Fred’s hands were already sliding down your body. “Baby, we’ve been doing foreplay since the minute I saw you in my shirt. I’ve been suffering.”
He kissed down your neck, hands lifting the hem of the oversized tee until it bunched at your waist.
“I need you on your back. Legs over my shoulders. Right fucking now.”
You’d never obeyed so quickly in your life.
He slid your underwear down slowly, teasingly, sucking a kiss to your thigh as he settled between them.
“Look at this,” he said, voice in awe. “You’re already soaked. Merlin’s tits, love.”
You opened your mouth to snap at him,but then his tongue flattened against your clit, and all that came out was a moan so loud it echoed.
Fred groaned, latching on like he was starving. His tongue circled and licked, slow at first, building gradually, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding onto the last threads of control.
He loved eating you out. It was one of his favorite hobbies,up there with Quidditch and annoying Filch.
And he was good at it. Filthy. Passionate. Worshipful.
“Fuck, Fred—please—”
His fingers slid inside you just as his mouth closed around your clit again, and your back arched off the bed.
“That’s it, darling,” he murmured against you. “Let me hear you.”
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as you whined, thighs shaking. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.
“Oh—fuck—I’m gonna—Fred—fuck—”
You came hard, grinding into his mouth, eyes screwed shut, legs trembling on either side of his head.
He moaned like he loved it,like tasting you was the highlight of his entire day.
And when he finally looked up, face soaked and smug, you were a breathless, blissed-out mess.
“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You blinked at him. “I can’t feel my legs.”
He laughed so hard he had to lean on the bed for balance. “Holy fuck, Y/N. You’re literally a puddle.”
“Shut up.”
“No, really. You’re like—dripping. If you die, I’m blaming that book you ignored me for.”
You threw a pillow at him. He caught it with one hand and tossed it aside.
Then he was back on you,pulling off the rest of his clothes, lifting your hips like you weighed nothing.
“You think we’re done?” he teased.
You squeaked when he spread your legs and lined himself up. “I—Fred—wait—”
“Just a little more,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I’ll go slow.”
But he didn’t. Not really.
Because the moment he sank into you, tight and warm and still twitching from your orgasm, his control shattered.
He groaned like you were the best feeling he’d ever known. “Fuck—fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight—how are you this perfect?”
You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. “You’re huge, Fred—oh my god—”
His pace started steady, but it didn’t stay that way.
Every time he pulled out and pushed back in, he went deeper. Harder. Faster.
Your legs instinctively locked around his shoulders again, heels digging into his back as he slammed into you over and over.
Your moans were shameless now,raw and honest and wrecked.
Fred leaned down, face close to yours, grinning like he’d just discovered treasure.
“You love it,” he panted. “Being fucked like this. All stretched out and cock-drunk for me.”
You nodded helplessly, tears in your eyes from how good it felt.
“Say it,” he demanded, breath hot on your lips. “Tell me you love it.”
“I love it—I love it, Fred, please—”
“Please what, baby?”
“Don’t stop.”
“Never.”
His hand reached between you, fingers finding your clit again. Your body jolted at the stimulation, already too much and somehow not enough.
“You gonna come again for me?” he whispered, kissing your temple.
You nodded desperately. “Y-yeah—yes, fuck, please—”
“Good girl.”
That pushed you right over the edge.
You shattered beneath him with a scream, body spasming, stars bursting behind your eyes. Your walls clenched so tight around him, it pulled his orgasm out of him seconds later.
“Shit—Y/N—”
He buried himself deep, groaning your name like a prayer as he came hard inside you.
It was messy. Intense. Fucking glorious.
When he finally collapsed beside you, both of you breathless and sweaty and clinging to each other, the room was dead silent except for the ragged sounds of your breathing.
Then, softly:
“Still mad I interrupted your reading?”
You snorted into his chest. “I don’t even remember what the book was about.”
Fred chuckled, pulling you into his arms and kissing your forehead. “Exactly.”
You both laid there for a moment, tangled in sheets and limbs and sweat, before he grabbed his wand and muttered a quick cleaning spell with a flick.
You sighed. “That’s cheating.”
He smirked. “That’s magic.”
A beat passed. Then, softly, Fred looked down at you.
“Y’know I love you, right?”
You blinked. Heat rose to your cheeks. “What?”
He smiled. No teasing. No joke. Just Fred,completely sincere.
“I love you, Y/N. Like... all the time. Even when you’re ignoring me for books.”
You cupped his cheek. “I love you too.”
His grin widened. “Even when I turn you into a puddle?”
Include: Harry , Ron , Fred , George , Oliver , Neville and Cedric
Harry Potter
tied down @hollowdeath
you and harry potter, the biggest flirt at hogwarts, have been secretly hooking up for weeks after playing hard to get. harry's been dragging his feet when it comes to making things official, so when his flirty tendencies get him in trouble, you decide to play him at his own game and win.
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smut / mdni
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harry james potter x ravenclaw fem reader
day one @darcellexxx
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Harry Potter x Lestrange!reader
we would have been timeless @fear-less
everyone at Hogwarts saw it coming when you and Harry started dating. To most, you were just another sweet couple. but to the professors, you were a reminder of two people they had lost. In your smiles, your arguments, and the way you looked at each other, they saw echoes of James and Lily. not a repeat of the past, but a new beginning filled with hope.
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beneath the silence @elytriumm
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when you, a sharp-witted Slytherin express interest in joining Dumbledores Army, you soon find yourself caught between not only house loyalty and what’s right - but an unexpected bond with Harry Potter.
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personal fav !
so obvious @junezsq
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baby names @ravenclaws-stuff
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cherry pink , cherry kiss ! @mokkiaun
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harry potter x fem! reader
____
Ron Weasley
steal my girl @yasministration
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"ron weasley has been friends with you since you were both children, but he's developed feelings for you and he finally takes up the courage to tell you unexpectedly"
ron weasley x fem!reader
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don't fall in love with my brothers , please @holysmokesblog
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Ron is used to feeling second.
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untitled @slvqtore
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sneaky visits ! @bvrnesher
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ronald weasley ! fem. reader
a weasley gift @jijournal
Ron surprises you with something very special in the Weasley household.
blushing in the bookstore @rottenherbs
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not a game @luv4freddie
You were a well known flirt, the Slytherin maneater. But now you’ve set your sights on Ron Weasley, and he’s not sure what to believe.
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____
Fred Weasley
the trick @ilovelygood
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Fred Weasley x Muggle!fem!reader
little sister , my arse @cipheress-to-k-pop
You were “like a little sister to him”—or so Fred said. Please. Anyone with half a brain could see there was something way more between you two.
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christmas at the burrow @alexadolly-8
your first christmas at the burrow being fred's gf
words : 669
4me 4me @biscuitz707
It’s Easter break and instead of being home, you’re stranded at Hogwarts prepping for N.E.W.T.s. Stuck studying inside the library, you surprisingly find yourself accompanied by Fred Weasley.
words : 1.2k
amortencia @binchidavinci
‘When you have to make Amortentia in Slughorn’s potions class, the last thing you expect to smell is Fred Weasley; Fred doesn’t expect to smell you, either.’
verituserum @maria021015
Fred, George, and Lee have been avoiding you all day and you’ve had enough. When you blackmail your way into the Gryffindor common room to confront them, you don’t expect Fred to start bombarding you with strange compliments. You definitely don’t expect what comes next.
lingering perfume @yasministration
harry has warned you that if you don't stop stealing his sweaters, he'll tell your parents about your boyfriend. but your parents are very much aware of your relationship, so harry goes one step further.
fred weasley x potter reader
words : +1k
never planned @lqveharrington
you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.
fred weasley x gryffindor!reader
pains and promises @marvelwitchergilmore
A rivalry that has been going on for four years suddenly begins to change when you help Fred's little sister.
Fred Weasley x slytherin!reader
wrong twin @yasministration
for a long, gruelling minute, angelina is under the impression that her best friend has a crush on her boyfriend. but no, that's the wrong twin.
words : +1.3k
"you really can't tell ?" @oc3anlvsu
Fred Weasley has a huge crush on his brother’s best friend, but she’s completely oblivious. Between teasing her about her handwriting, stealing her food, and randomly braiding her hair, Fred thinks he’s flirting — she just thinks he’s annoying
Fred Weasley x Ron’s best friend
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george weasley
dazed and devoted @lumosflairr
George gets knocked out during Quidditch practice. When he wakes up, confused and concussed, he flirts with his girlfriend like he’s never met her before. And honestly? It’s kind of adorable.
words : 1.5k
cool about it @hunnyisland
When Fred notices you’ve taken a liking to his brother, he formulates a plan to wingman you.
george weasley x gryffindor reader
words : 6k
saint like @rottenherbs
Molly Weasley doesn’t hide her disapproval of you, being George’s girlfriend, it made things awkward every time you visit the Burrow. But when George loses his ear and you care for him with gentle dedication, Molly begins to see you in a new light—slowly warming up and starting to accept you as part of the family.
words : 2.2k
someday @ravenclaws-stuff
Five times George Weasley says he's going to marry you and One time he actually does.
George Weasley x Lovegood!reader
sticky situation @weezyweasleys-fg
A young rivalry blooms between you and the supposedly "quieter" twin of the Weasley family's sons. Despite the teeth-grating relationship you two had grown to have being quite new, things got heated up pretty quickly. Now stuck because of each other in detention with no real way out but getting through with it—burning down the classroom felt better than being stuck in a room with George Weasley.
reasonless hatred @yasministration
Severus snape's daughter causes him nothing but chaos, hatred where love should be in their relationship. but she is finally given a real reason to hate her father, and she decides to give him one to hate her too.
words : 2.6+
patience @kittyminion
george finds a way to entertain you, despite your introverted nature at a party
george weasley x introvert!f!reader
hands @lcvecials
in which george is just trying to have a conversation with you, and you can’t stop staring at his hands.
george weasley x gn reader
words : 0.6k
i won't say (i'm in love) @drowsyhope
You’ve been trying to convince yourself that you do not like George Weasley. sure, he has nice hair, a handsome smile, and those eyes? Yeah, you’re in love — but you won’t say it!
words : 3k
his little fox @rottenherbs
George has spotted a wild fox that has taken to his liking, little does he know it’s the girl he can’t keep his eyes off in the halls.
george weasley x animagus reader
words : 1.9k
____
Oliver Wood
captain's favorite @drowsyhope
being apart of the Gryffindor Quidditch was surely not for the weak because of the captain — Oliver Wood. so, when you came back for your 5th year, you strived to be the best! funny enough, the Prefects keep watch on you for some odd reason?
words : 3.6k
in the background @incantatem
you find yourself in detention with Oliver Wood, who seems to have gone the last seven years without noticing you, or so he thinks.
words : 9k
mobility exercises @yasministration
oliver wood doesn't expect to walk onto the quidditch pitch to find the slytherin team finishing up their post workout stretches. nor does he expect to be flirted with by their captain
words : 1.3k+
a bit suggestive
the chocolate frog conspiracy @toffeetonks
To the students at Hogwarts, Oliver Wood is Gryffindor’s beloved Quidditch captain. But to Y/N L/N, he’s the boy who keeps sliding her Chocolate Frogs during her study sessions... Like sugar can disguise the fact that he’s falling in love with her.
words : 2k
so possessive @lumosflairr
Oliver gets jealous when he see’s you and the twins messing around. More specifically, when they have their hands on you.
words : 0.9k
thicker than a broomstick @jijournal
Quidditch is brutal, but nothing compares to Oliver Wood’s hopeless attempts at flirting—too bad the only person who doesn’t realize he’s asking you to the Yule Ball is you.
words : 2.1k
an A minus @vaanny
remembering your parents’ promise of not letting you come back home for the holidays if you don’t meet their expectations, you find yourself considering an offer that is too good to refuse.
the party & the after party @spencersmopbucket
After three years of dating, you and Oliver come to the conclusion that you're better off without each other. A few months later, at the start of 7th year, you realize just how wrong you were. Oliver had always had a quick temper, but seeing you being flirted with at a post-victory party seemed to push it to new limits.
ye alright ? @nyxthedeity
Everyone's getting struggle in finding a date for the Yule Ball, but for Oliver? Oh, he already got his eyes on someone far longer than the Yule Ball. The only problem is how he's going to ask her out.
Oliver Wood x Ravenclaw!fem!reader
ring @soupandsimple
moments that Oliver’s wedding ring amplify the butterflies in your stomach
the hate game @heartthrobin
the only thing more grating than Oliver's foul moods and his permanent scowl, has to be the fact that he's so damn pretty. you fucking hate him for it.
oliver wood x female!reader
words : 13.3k
____
Neville Longbottom
gamophobia @cipheress-to-k-pop
Gamophobia (noun) | /ˌɡæməˈfəʊbiə/ An extreme or irrational fear of long-term commitment or marriage, often resulting in avoidance of deep emotional intimacy despite genuine affection.
words : 11.7k
greenhouse blues @ssspark
Neville’s clumsy moment in the greenhouse before class surprisingly gives him a little bit of hope.
Neville Longbottom x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader
words : 1.2k
obvious enough @yasministration
it seems that the only person in the entire castle who doesn't know about your feelings for neville is neville himself. your signals become increasingly more obvious, but even asking him out to hogsmeade doesn't seem to be obvious enough for him.
words : 1.9k
the alchemy @kyber-crystal
there’s a special sort of alchemy that’s involved in falling in love and finding the ‘one.’ luckily, you don’t need to try so hard—he’s already out there waiting.
words: 3k
my wish @ravenclaws-stuff
Neville makes one wish for his birthday.
palmistry @yasministration
when you begin learning advanced palm reading with professor trelawney, you don't only uncover new truths about you, but those around you — particularly one boy you have your eyes on.
words : 3.3k
yeah , I do @httpvomitello
One day, you looked at Neville Longbottom and saw something new. Something you had never noticed before—the way he had grown, the quiet strength in his eyes, the way his smile made your heart stutter.
neville longbottom x f!reader
between the pages @leturmindwonder
A study session in the library leads to some truths being revealed.
your voice is my favorite sound @yupthisisshe
Nevile begins rambling about plants and Neville apologizes for talking too much. Reader assures him that they do not mind at all.
Maybe I'll make you see through my words and my actions exactly just how much you mean to me. @drearydaffodils
You spend an afternoon in the presence of your lover, and have a sweet date <3
words : +800
____
Cedric Diggory
platitude @artyteah
there's nothing more used and reused than popular students falling for the one student that isn't interested in them. for cedric, it started with curiosity. for reader, it certainly is a bad joke where she is the punchline.
the alchemy @blossominmist
you were hogwarts’ golden couple — both quidditch captains, both prefects, both hopelessly in love. until your family forced you to break his heart. a year later, the feelings are still there, stronger than ever, but so are the rumours about cho chang. when cedric is chosen as hogwarts’ champion, you finally speak to him again. not to win him back… just to help him survive.
cedric diggory x fem!reader
words : 4.9k
personal fav !
where the snow remembers us @taycherouzz
Cedric and you end up in a chaotic snowball fight that accidentally exposes a photo he’s kept of you for years.
Cedric x fem!reader
rough day ? @mmeskywalker
CEDRIC DIGGORY has just gotten done with quidditch practice. a rough one at that. if the word rough even began to cut what that poor man experienced. he’s upset, he’s grouchy, yet he’s completely and utterly yours.
the golden labrador and pretty blues @mokkiaun
cedric diggory was the golden boy of hogwarts, his charming smile and soft gestures had every girl swooning. so what happens when mr perfect stumbles into a sweet and beautifully dazed beauxbaton girl?
cedric diggory x beauxbaton! fem! reader
your champion @rottenherbs
You’re Harry’s sister, close in age and fiercely protective of one another. At the Quidditch World Cup, you meet Cedric Diggory, and the connection between you is instant. Harry disapproves of the budding relationship, worried about Cedric’s intentions—but when the second task of the Triwizard Tournament puts you in danger, Cedric steps in to save you, proving just how much he cares.
cedric diggory x potter reader
words : 2.7k
a lover's ruse @mentally-in-northern-italy
Your agonizing courtship and Cedric’s need to spite his ex are both ailments that have a very simple cure: a fake relationship, obviously.
Cedric Diggory x fem!gryffindor!reader
words : 3.9k
a promise kept @jijournal
Before the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric makes you promise that, no matter what happens, you won’t cry over him. After his death, you struggle to keep that promise—until you find the letter he left behind.
words : 2.3k
only you , my girl @lumosflairr
While you and Cedric are in a happy relationship, some girls can’t comprehend the fact he’s taken and shamelessly flirt with him. While your aware he wouldn’t dare give them a second thought, it hurts a little. However, Cedric being the amazing boyfriends he is - comes up with an idea to cheer you up!
the extended potter family @luv4freddie
now that you and Cedric have gone official, it’s time to finally give your parents what they want. A holiday visit to the Potter home quickly becomes chaotic.
A/N: Fred Weasley has always always ALWAYS been my fav and I love reading fics like this but I decided to add extra gooey lore and molly angst bc bae went thru a lot
Warning(s): Fred being protective, Arthur basically being scared of his wife, mentions of death and loss. Reader is a pureblood from a rich family, distant relative to the blacks and distant cousin of draco (all purebloods are related somehow)
Word Count: 3.3K
Credit to @diviniyae for the dividers!! <3
“Baby, c’mon.”
Fred had been pleading with you for weeks now to spend your summer vacations at the burrow. Ever since the two of you started dating in your fourth year, you’d grown impossibly close to all his siblings, even Percy, for Godric’s sake. That’s how perfect you were for him.
He was known for being reckless, impulsive, and uncontrollable. He still was, but his storm had mellowed ever since he’d been with you. Pranks made to entertain instead of embarrass, jokes without singling out. He was still the same flashy, charismatic showman; now he was more mature, more reasonable. Loud as ever, no doubt of it, but he’d finally been balanced.
You were like wind to his fire; you might amp it down or fuel it, but you were always there. Your snarky remarks and witty comebacks offered him the perfect challenge; he’d hit the jackpot. You two could joke and laugh without offence or insecurity, without late nights wondering if a joke had a hidden meaning behind it because you read each other effortlessly. He never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin, especially not one with a family like yours.
You were part of the sacred twenty-eight and additionally were a very distant relative of Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, and Andromeda Tonks. They were your second or third aunts. Purebloods always married within their circle; people had complex relative histories. It even technically made you Draco’s distant cousin. The thought alone should’ve driven him away, but he wasn’t like that. Even if you were Bellatrix’s own daughter, he’d go up to you, because that’s how he is; what he does. He was fearless in a way that made one question whether it was rooted in stupidity, naivety, or maybe possible genius.
“Freddie,” you breathed, eyes soft with guilt. “I’m not sure I should, you know, your parents aren’t very fond of me,” you said softly.
It hurt you immensely that his parents had a distaste for you despite your best efforts. You saw it in the way Fred never showed you any letters his mother sent him unless he was sure you weren’t mentioned once in them. His mother wasn’t exactly subtle.
You couldn’t blame them for it, though a part of you was still bitter. Your family name was loud, your parents were sharp-tongued and prejudiced against anything that wasn’t a rich pureblood elitist. People heard your name and already drew conclusions that lingered; impressions of a cold-hearted, calculating, ruthless heir without empathy or tolerance.
Because of these assumptions, no one bothered to disprove them, opting to avoid you instead. Everyone but Fred. People called it stupidity, a death wish. But all those whispers and anticipation of a hex hitting his chest were eliminated after you threw your head back in a cackle, not even ten minutes after he came up to you.
The image was broken as soon as your laughter was heard; saccharine and normal like any other girl in the castle. And just like that, people came up to you more, returned smiles in the hallways, and didn’t stiffen when you walked past. Hogwarts turned comforting, more like home than your own. Fred stuck to you through it all, and you slowly won over each and every one of his siblings over the past seven years. You won over Charlie before he graduated when you were in your third year, and Percy warmed up to you when he caught you tutoring the twins in your second year. Ron was the toughest to break, but you finally got him when he was in his second year and you in your fourth, right after you and Fred began to date. He had passed the courtyard on his way between classes and saw you and Fred sitting out there, together. You were going on a tangent, hands on your hips as you scolded him for something he didn’t hear, but what really did it was how Fred reacted.
Fred Weasley, his big brother, was affected by nothing, brushing off punishments and detentions like dust on a coat, was pouting, head hanging as he stared at the floor, hands behind his back in compliance as you chided him. Ron decided something that day; if Fred let someone do that to him, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Ginny was by far the easiest to connect with. The poor girl screamed and nearly cried when she saw you, yelping about finally having another sister. You didn’t dare correct her. You even charmed Bill when you met him at the 1994 Quidditch World Cup Finals between Bulgaria and Finland.
You hadn’t realised Mr and Mrs Weasley themselves would be the toughest nuts to crack; they were stereotypical. It’s unsurprising given their age, but their persistence was staggering. Firmly written opinions sent to all their children about you, and long, long lectures Fred had to sit through about deceit and how people are images of their parents. It didn’t matter how much Fred defended you, how much his siblings vouched for your character; Molly was clear, and Arthur never opposed his wife.
“My love, light of my life, honeybear,” Fred continued, his hands travelling further up your arm as he pulled you closer to him. You let him with a lingering pout. “My parents can bugger off for all I care; they can’t do or say anything if I’m there. Trust me on that,” he continued, his eyes wide and pleading. He didn’t play with you; you were the most important thing in his life, and he made sure you were treated like such.
You went silent, thinking about it, but you were weak; you knew that. Fred Weasley, knowingly or not, was your weakness. You weren’t smiley, friendly, or easy; with him, you turned impossibly soft. It was almost a sickness; he calmed your rage within seconds, and you shut down his life-threatening pranks with a single look. “Okay,” you relented. He lit up completely with a gasp, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, face in your hair.
“Ginny might cry when I tell her.” He said with a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. God, you loved that girl. “I’ll tell her myself.” You mumbled back, turning your head to kiss his neck before pulling back.
You were a bundle of nerves the entire train ride to the Burrow, everyone noticed. Ginny offered up her skincare, Ron passed you extra chicken from the lunch he packed from Hogwarts, even George didn’t try to slip you a nosebleed nougat; he had more sense than that.
Fred kept you close the entire time, tucked into his side. You saw the tension in the hard set of his jaw as he looked out the window. His hands flexed from where they were on your waist, squeezing the soft flesh every once in a while merely to assure himself of your presence.
When you reached, one thing became abundantly clear: Molly and Arthur had certainly not been told of your visit. You saw it in the way her beaming smile harshly fell from her face once she spotted you next to Fred. She grabbed him, pulling him away.
You felt nauseous, smiling politely at Arthur as he gave you a forced smile in turn, his hesitance to shake your hand only added to the twist in your stomach. Ron took your suitcase, and Ginny took your hand, squeezing it in support as she tugged you to the car.
You turned your head to see Fred now proper scowling at his mother before he simply turned and walked off in the middle of her rant, face changing when he saw you look over, giving you as soft a smile as he could manage.
It didn’t get better at the burrow. Molly never looked directly at you, spoke to you through her children. ‘Ginny, she’ll sleep in your room.’ ‘Is she going to eat, Fred?’ ‘Ron, will she need her very own sheets?’ You saw the way Arthur winced, but said nothing. He himself was incredibly awkward near you.
You didn’t like it, Fred absolutely didn’t. Glaring and hissing a sharp “why don’t you ask her herself?” that Molly always promptly ignored. It went on for two weeks; Molly stopped laughing when you entered a room, and Arthur found excuses to leave. Whenever you were with their kids, something always came up. You and Ginny giggling and eating ice cream in bed? Molly needed her help sewing. You and Percy discussing the NEWTS? Arthur needed him to proofread something.
Fred was the main victim. Suddenly, he was needed all around the house as soon as the two of you were able to be together. The dishes, setting the table, helping with lunch, and helping load the laundry. It was so targeted and so obvious.
It all shattered during dinner one night. Fred and George decided this was the perfect time to talk about the fact that they’d be dropping out to open their own joke shop. Everyone knew Molly wouldn’t support it; she’d faced poverty. The thought of her sons not completing their education to start a shop made her all kinds of angry.
So, on went the screaming. Arguing at the table as George and Fred quite literally fought for their business with their mother, while Molly kept screaming about homelessness and how they’d never succeed.
It reached a point where she looked at you for the first time since the railway station and growled a low “You.”
You stiffened; everyone did. “You did this, didn’t you? Think it’s amusing, girl, making these two believe they can make it? Without suppliers? Investors? Nothing? You’re ruining my son's life!” She hissed, screaming the last part. You flinched, eyes widening.
“M-Misses Weasley, I don’t– I just want him to be happy-” You choked, but she slammed her hand on the table with a scoff of outrage.
“You don’t understand anything. People like you, sheltered, protected–you’ve never had to work for anything a day in your life, never struggled. ” She continued, the rage in her voice something no one at the table had ever heard before. “Rich, pompous, overconfident people like you are exactly the folk we don’t want to get mixed with—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut up!”
Everyone whipped their heads around to Fred, the usually cheeky and unserious boy, now straight scowling. “George and I are doing this with or without your approval, Mum. I truly don’t care about what you say in accordance with the business, nor about your hopes for our success, but you will watch it when you talk to her.” He hissed, pushing back his chair with a harsh screech before throwing his napkin on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you up as well.
Molly was mortified, and Arthur looked like he’d been spat on. “Frederick Gideon Weasley, you will sit–”
“Mum, please!” Ginny huffed, making your heart clench. The poor girl looked close to tears. She sniffled, turning to hug George’s arm. Molly’s scowl broke at the sight of her only daughter in such peril.
Fred dragged you up the stairs to his room. He’d gotten his own ever since Charlie moved into his own cottage somewhere in Scotland, closer to the dragons had been his only justification before taking off.
Your eyes were wide, heart pounding horrifically loud in your chest. You looked at the back of his head the entire walk to his room until he finally slammed the door.
“Fred!” You whisper-hissed, hands trembling with adrenaline. He dragged a hand down his face as he turned to you, the other wrapping around the small of your back. “This doesn’t help my whole image with your mother, she’s gonna think I’m manipulating you against her or something—”
“She’s not that manic.” He mumbled, ducking his head into your neck before taking a deep inhale. “Hopefully.”
He hugged you around your waist, tugging you into him as he leaned into you. You could feel he was doing this more to calm himself than offer any comfort, but you didn’t mind much, dragging a hand through his hair. You felt the breath leaving him.
You could hear the thud of footsteps climbing up to his room, and feel the way his shoulders tightened. He nudged you behind him as he turned to the door, half expecting his mother to come bursting in, but all he heard was three soft knocks.
“Fred?” Came a soft, older tone. His father, Arthur.
He didn’t hesitate opening it, letting the lesser of two evils in. Arthur looks guilty, almost hesitant, when he steps in, mouth open, before he shuts it. “Fred, my boy, your mother— both of us, we want the best for you. The shop, I-I’m not saying you shouldn’t follow your dreams, but you can’t expect her to be okay with it.”
“That’s not why I stormed out of there, Dad.” Fred huffed in turn, narrowing his eyes as he grabbed your waist, pulling you to stand next to him. “You know that.”
His father clasped his hands together, glancing towards you for a moment. It was clear he was choosing his words as carefully as he could. “Freddie, she– she’s not what we had in mind for you.” He said delicately, you could see Fred’s shoulders tighten.
“Her family, people like her, haven’t been good to people like us.” He continued, you took Fred’s hand as a reminder to keep himself regulated. It was odd, having to regulate his anger instead of him regulating yours. “Do her parents even know about you?”
That made you stiffen, hanging your head. You hadn’t told your parents, certain they’d forbid you from seeing him. You’d talked to Fred. He understood. Still, admitting he was a secret boyfriend was degrading.
“It doesn’t matter whether she’s told her parents. I trust her, that’s my choice. She’s brilliant, dad, you and mum would know if you gave her a singular chance.” Fred muttered, venom dripping from each syllable. Arthur felt the bitter truth in his words, nodding solemnly.
“No, you’re.. You’re right. I know.” He relented, looking at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear.” He all but breathed. You just offered a soft smile, nodding.
“It’s– We have lived through a lot, Fred.” Now it was Fred’s turn to stiffen. “Your mother lost Fabian and Gideon in the war. To people from families like.. Well, hers.”
Fred sighed, squeezing your hand. “I know about them. She’s told us. But, Dad, things are changing. Times are changing. She can’t be bitter forever. Your mother was Cedrella Black! Does that mean she hates that part of you?!”
Arthur stammered. That was enough. “Why is it different for y/n, huh? Haven’t you been cruel enough? I’d like you two grown adults to realise you’ve been bedevilling a girl who’s nearly three times younger than you!” Fred continued, finishing with a scoff. He knew he was loud—knew the whole damn house probably heard. He couldn’t find it in him to care; he almost hoped his mother heard.
Arthur just nodded, unable to gather the words to continue the conversation, exiting the room.
You shuddered, Fred pulled you in.
Safe to say, no one minded if you spent the night in Fred’s room that night.
Morning rolled around, the tension still present like a living, breathing presence. Fred didn’t leave you for a single second, and no one tried. Neither Arthur nor Molly pretended he was needed anywhere; they knew Fred wouldn’t entertain it.
To his credit, Arthur really did seem like he was trying. Wished you good morning, offered you tea when he was making any, even went as far as to ask for your future job plans. Fred was already grateful, smiling whenever he heard it. He eased up on his father, let himself relax around you when his father was near.
But Molly was a woman on a mission. She made sure it was known that Arthur was alone in his acceptance. She let you serve yourself during meals, dramatically moved away from you like you had Spattergoit. You chose to ignore it, a smaller, pettier part of you made you extra nice to her in turn.
All of the Weaslings (apart from Bill and Charlie) were around the coffee table, playing exploding snap. The air was filled with hysterical giggles and pure orange-haired competitiveness. Arthur was off at work, and Molly was serving snacks, very pointedly placing the plates as far from you as she could.
You shot her a smile dipped in honey. “Oh, thank you, Miss Weasley! You’re so good to me. I couldn’t be more grateful.” You cooed, making Fred stifle a snort. His mother looked appalled, muttering a quick ‘no matter’ before rushing back to the kitchen.
You’d come to accept it, almost took it as a sad fact of life. Ready to fight Molly Weasley for the rest of your life.
Then came that fated night.
You couldn’t sleep. George thought it was genius to watch some low-budget horror movie. You crept down the stairs of the burrow to the kitchen to take a glass of water and, potentially, a cookie Molly made.
You filled the glass before the light flicked on from behind you, startling you. Damn you, George.
“Oh.” Molly mumbled when she saw it was you, hesitantly walking into her kitchen to grab something from the fridge. It was rather early, four am. You didn’t think she’d be up so early.
There was a horribly awkward moment where neither spoke; you simply drank your water at the counter. Then, the silence was shattered.
“I had brothers, you know.” She mumbled; you immediately knew where this was going. You looked over at her; her expression was something you couldn’t pick apart.
You nodded, she continued.
“They joined the order. First Wizarding War. I’m sure you’ve met Harry. They met his parents there. Young, stupid and ready to fight.”
Her voice thickened, your heart sank.
“Twins. Like my Fred and George. Good people, amazing to me.” She kept going, unwrapping dough she got from the freezer. “Died when I was pregnant with Percy.” Her voice broke around the word died and you suddenly felt like a monster.
“Took five deatheaters to kill them. Antonin Volohov was the only one who was named in the report, the rest having taken their own lives once captured.” It was unsettling, the things this woman had gone through. It made your heart ache for her.
“Volohov worked closely with Bellatrix. I guess I just… can’t accept that a trace of what killed my brothers lives in you.”
You felt your throat tighten, tears stinging your eyes as the woman placed the small balls of frozen dough on a baking tray.
You cleared your throat, moving to wash your hands, drying them, then wordlessly assisting her.
“My mum once killed my pet mouse because attachment was a weakness to her.” You mumbled, and she shifted to make room for you. Not to get away, but to make space. You noticed.
“I cried to my father, but he offered no solace. He said nothing should be important enough to bring me to tears.” You rolled the dough into a ball, passing it to her. “Met Bellatrix once. I was.. Maybe seven. She threw her shoes at me when I touched her wand, grabbed me by the hair and presented me to my parents like a fox she killed.”
Molly hummed in acknowledgement, but there was something softer. A sympathy.
“I may not hate her as much as you do, I may never will, but I truly despise and loathe her very being. She’s hurt you much more than she hurt me, but her cruelty to more and more people gives me more and more reason to be as different from her as I can.”
The room settled into comfortable silence after that. She put the cookies in the oven, and you washed your hands.
As soon as you turned to leave, she took your hand. It was gentle, not like she was trying to restrain you. You turned, and she placed a kiss to your forehead before walking away. “Goodnight, dearie.”
You bit back the smile growing on your face, sheer joy filling your chest.
george weasley fingering the shit out of you ( 18+ mdni ) (requested by anon)
your mind was blissfully empty. drool was slipping from your mouth as moan after moan escaped your lips. the reason? george weasley had you face down, ass up as his fingers pumped in and out of you.
you words were beginning to slur. "ngh — s'good, s'fucking good."
"yeah?" asked george, his voice dripping with pride. "i know it is."
george only had one finger inside you, but one was was enough. long and thick, he was curving it perfectly to hit the right spot, over and over. you tried to rock your hips back, but a slap to your ass made you reconsider. george soothed the red skin down, chuckling. "i'm in charge, darlin', don't forget it."
"need mo — more!" you gasp out, head tilting back to look at him.
"more?" he echoed. "greedy girl. already dripping down my whole hand."
george might've been teasing you, but he was also never one to deny your pleasure. which is why a minute later, you felt his thumb press onto your clit as another finger breached your entrance.
you let out a strangled groan. "please, please, please, yes! thank you — fuucckkk — thank you, georgie."
george shoved your head back down, muffling your voice and keeping a firm hand there. "keep it down, will you? don't wanna wake someone up. can't have everyone knowing you love getting fingered like a slut."
you nodded, feeling a little pathetic by how wet you are. george's fingers move faster and faster, filling the room with an obscene squelching sound. your thighs were beginning to tremble, threatening to give out, but george's voice snaps like a warning: "don't you dare. i've been doing all the work anyway, all you have to do is sit there and take it."
you nearly wail as his fingers slip out of you, flipping you over. your eyes meet his chocolate ones, and they darken even more as he takes in your state. tears are rolling down your cheeks, panting in small puffs. he leans down and places a soft kiss to your temple. "you're a bloody vision, sweetheart. lookin' all fucked out and i haven't even given you my cock yet."
you pouted up at him. "needa cum, georgie, please, fill me up again!"
he looked over your body almost scientifically as he pulled a pillow under your hips, elevating them. "gotta do something about your damn mouth, though... keep you quiet."
you bit your lip as you took his other hand to your mouth and sucked on his fingers. he seemed satisfied as he pushed them deeper into your mouth. "that'll do it. suck them like it's my cock. fuckin' cockwhore. maybe next time fred can keep your mouth busy."
you spread your legs wider, showing him how your entrance clenched, and his eyes darkened. without any warning, he plunged his fingers back inside. three long, veiny fingers were splitting you open. every thrust of them was hitting just the right spot, causing your vision to whiten and eyes to flutter closed.
"mhm, don't stop!" you said, voice warbled around his fingers. spit was escaping from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your tits as you tweaked and pinched your nippes.
"can feel your pussy squeezing me sooo tight." said george triumphantly. "gonna cum? go ahead, soak my fingers."
that was all you needed as your body writhed around the bed, waves and waves of pleasure rolling over you. you could feel electricity tingling to your fingertips, toes curling. george's assault never stopped, his fingers moving faster and bordering on overstimulation.
it was only when you finally collapsed, tired, did george pull out his fingers, licking each one theatrically while his eyes were raking over your body. he was nowhere near finished with you.
