#hp x reader

[voxslays]

[lostazuree]

୨୧—❝Go out with me?❞

HP Boys x Reader.ᐟ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Harry Potter boys struggling to ask you out.ᐟ

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: Cedric Diggory, Harry Potter, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Draco Malfoy.ᐟ

ᝰ ᴄᴇᴅʀɪᴄ ᴅɪɢɢᴏʀʏ.ᐟ

You're reading that same old book with torn edges, that looks as old as time. You've come to love it. What you didn't know, was that the boy infront also knows that. He wants to speak. But he can't. Though, you can feel his gaze on you all the time as he's sat across you at your desk in the library. You'd come here to read, not to have a Diggory staring at you! From the corner of your eye, you're noticing how he's sneaking glances at you. It's distracting. But he knows you're looking at him through your peripheral vision. So you finally look up.

"You're staring." "So are you." "I'm studying!" "So am I."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes and smile, despite yourself. He smiles back. Though, now, his confidence really is slipping through his fingers like sand.

He doesn't know what to say, and he knows you're noticing it. He's waiting for you to flip to a certain page and— There! A dried red rose placed neatly between the pages. You were pleasantly surprised, to say the least. "Oh, I wonder who could have placed that..." You said with a pretense obliviousness. "Me....I did." He chirped up a second after, which earned him a chuckle from you. "Thank you, Cedric." He smiled in response. Now is the time, he thought.

“Right. So, I was thinking—hypothetically—if someone were to ask you to Hogsmeade, say, next weekend…” "Hypothetically?" "Yes. Hypothetically."

You smiled, shaking your head at how silly it all sounded. "Depends. What's in it for me?"; "Butterbeer? Honeydukes fudge...and uh—my company? The hypothetical someone's company, I mean." And you grinned. "That's a great deal. I like the sound of that. Except, I don't want the hypothetical someone's company." You got up from your seat with your things and His head snapped towards you, just then; "Cedric Diggory's would do." you leaned down to where he was sitting, planted a kiss on his cheek and walked away. "Oh." And he sat there, dumbfounded, in a pleasant—giddy way.

ᝰ ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ .ᐟ

He's nervous. Very. He's been standing infront of the bathroom mirror for long that he feels his reflection would reach out and choke the words out of him. He's been practicing for so long that he has to remind himself every once in a while that his agenda is to ask you out, not to sell an insurance plan. Why can't he just do that? It can't be that hard. Except it is, for him. "Fancy seeing you here." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That was—awful." he thought to himself, but he was soon pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a knock at the bathroom door. "You're gonna be late for potions, Harry!" your voice rang. “Y–yeah! Be right there!” You squint at him as soon as he steps out of the bathroom.

"You look tense, what took you so long in there?" "Mental practice." "Mental practice?" "Y'know, visualizing success."

You passed a grin, shaking your head. He seemed suspicious. You were not gonna use the bathroom now. His tongue gave up entirely as soon as you followed up with a question. "What kind of success?" His words falling out before he can stop them. "Uh..the kind where I ask you to Madam Puddifoot's tea shop and you say yes?" You stared at him in surprise, lips parted in shock before you laughed, "That's your idea of success?" Oh how embarrassed he felt! He could feel heat rising up to his cheeks like some stupid Shoujo. "Well, it is now!" He said, his voice an octave higher as he fixed his glasses. You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. "You're really bad at this.";

"It was supposed to be charming." "It was. Accidentally."

His head snapped towards you at once in surprise. "I'll go with you, Harry. Tea shop, tomorrow." And with a grin, you turned and walked away to your class. Him? He stood there, frozen, grinning silly.

ᝰ ꜰʀᴇᴅ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ.ᐟ

He's many things. Funny, confident, charming (self proclaimed), and apparently, very incapable of asking you out like a normal person. Because the moment he sees you sitting there in the library, his brain goes static. He grabs a book without even seeing what it is about, pulls a chair across from you and sits, propping his chin on his elbow as he grins. "What'cha readin' love? You look rather focused." You click your tongue, raising an eyebrow at him. "Studying for a test of course, not everybody is as free as you are."; "Ouch?" He starts reading out loud to prove you wrong, except, he isn't really reading.

"And then he asks the girl sitting across from him, 'Would you like to go to Brews and Stews Cafe with me?'." You deadpanned, raising your head to stare at him. He continued, his eyes fixed on the book.

"And shockingly, or not so shockingly for the handsome lad, she sai—" "Stop projecting your fantasies on that book, Fred."

Now that perked his ears, even though it was stupidly obvious what he was doing, he wanted to know what gave it away.

"What?" "You're not even trying.""What do you mean by that, love?" "No such lines exist in that book. You're holding an encyclopedia, y'know. Upside down." "Oh.."

He was mentally face palming. You on the other hand, pack your stuff up with a hint of a smirk, before you ruffle his hair and lean down. "She said yes for 6 p.m., by the way." which earned you a sheepish smile by him. "And she also said that the 'handsome lad' should step up his game." With that, you walked away. He didn't know whether to feel offended or giddy—but oh well, mission successful!

ᝰ ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ᴡᴇᴀꜱʟᴇʏ.ᐟ

He's been roaming around in the lawn for a long while, holding a bunch of crumpled paper cranes that he's been making absentmindedly, wondering how he'd ask you out. You liked this stuff. Maybe that's why, since this morning he's been trying to do make something nice, in hopes you'd notice that he's been trying to make a move. He's been wanting to do it for a good while. He's surprised he's even so nervous, but he can't really bring himself to be confident like usual either. How is he even really gonna— "Ouch!!" A smack lands across his back, from you, of course. "Now, what was that for?!"; "Nothing." You said with a grin and he shook his head, now stuffing the cranes in his cloak's pocket. "What are those?" You asked him before he took them out, and held them out to you. Origami? Since when was he interested in this? "It's a little disoriented." You murmured, holding his hand and guiding him with the folds and he can't help but smile at how concentrated you are. "Now that, looks nice." He grinned. "Since when were you into all of this?" You asked, strolling beside him.

"Since this morning, if it guaranteed your attention." You blinked, "What?" "Nothing!" He's grinning now, but his ears are red. "I said nothing."

He hands you the paper cranes, signaling you to unfold one. There's a little scribble inside. "20% off at the tea shop on Saturday. Trip?" You can tell he tried to draw a flower next to it but erased it out of embarrassment. "A trip? With Fred?" it didn't take him even a second to cut you off. "Without him." You smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Is that your way of asking me out, Weasley?" "Depends. Was it good enough?""It was terrible." "Aww man."

"You're such a sap, George." Though, you folded the piece of paper and placed it in your pocket with a faint smile. "So that's a yes."; "You're awfully overconfident." you rolled your eyes. "Wrong?"; "Not really."

ᝰ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ.ᐟ

This is the perfect time to ask you out. But he still just can't. You're sitting right by him in the common room. He wants to ask you out. But at the same time, he doesn't. His ego won't let him. He's surely gonna get teased and never hear the end of it. He's sat too close to you for his own comfort. Though, he kind of likes it, it's a—nice kind of discomfort. He'd never admit that he likes to hear you yap, and he thinks that he does a phenomenal job at making it seem like you irritate him. But he doesn't. His faint smile gives it away. Though, today, he seems a little distant, fingers fiddling with crumpled pieces of paper. He tried—tried to make it less awkward by thinking he'd write you a letter. But quickly decided against it. Though, to his surprise, you already knew how he was struggling to ask you out. For the past whole week. It didn't take a genius to figure out with his Oh-so-obvious hints and his terrible attempts to back out.

"Fancy you studying beside me today." "Fancy you noticing where I study." "Wow, being sarcastic now? I'm sure you weren't even listening what I said." "I don't need to be." A beat. "And I did listen."

He regretted saying that. You didn't need to know that. But now you did. To change the topic, or perhaps to hide his embarrassment, he decides to say something even more embarrassing, (for him), "Oh, you know..I'm potentially available this Sunday." He said, looking away as if that statement was self explanatory. "Oh. That's nice." You hummed. He frowned. Then decided that his next statement might do it. "Andd...I'm thinking about going to Hogsmeade." You grinned. "That's great. It's a nice place." He was on the verge of giving up now. "You're impossible, (Y/N)." And you almost felt sorry for the poor guy. But, you, being the stubborn you, wanted HIM to make the move. "You know, Draco, there's a phrase more impossible than I am." That got his attention quickly. "What?"; "Repeat after me."

"Would you," "Would you," "Like to," "Like to," "Come to," "Come to," "Hogsmeade with me?" "Hogsmeade with me?" "Yes I would, Draco!" "oh....Oh!"

He realised a beat too late but, atleast he earned himself a date, at the cost of his dignity, smiling despite himself.

First time writing for HP characters! Hope it's not ooc. Reblogs and Likes would be highly appreciated! 🎀

[ladyhelona]

hi heuehuwheuehwu hear me out: Fred Weasley x Studious!F!Reader cock warming at the library. Reader is trying to study but Fred really needs to be inside her right now, so why not accomplish both? heueheueheuw

Study Break

💌 Fred Weasley x Reader

💭MDNI: Smut, cock warming turns to riding, semi public sex (no one catches them), Fred’s a snug little shit

A/N: The Weasley twins def deserve more content, I have another Fred fic I’ll be working on later, I LOVE writing for him

—

It starts, as these things usually do, with the soft scratch of your quill and the faint rustle of parchment—textbooks stacked like fragile towers around you, each one opened to a different chapter you’re convinced will be on the exam.

You’ve claimed the farthest corner of the library. Not because it’s the quietest, though it is. But because he always finds you here.

And sure enough, you feel him before you see him—warm breath at your neck, the barely-there graze of knuckles dragging down your spine as he leans over you like he belongs there. Like he owns the air around you.

“Studying again?” Fred purrs, voice low and full of something that makes your stomach flutter. “Shame. I was hoping you’d be doing something fun.”

You don’t look up. You don’t have to. He’s grinning. You can hear it. That insufferable little smile that always comes before trouble.

“You’re distracting me,” you murmur, eyes locked on the same sentence you’ve read four times.

“That’s funny,” he says, slipping into the seat beside you. His thigh presses against yours, firm and deliberate. “I was about to say the same thing.”

You don’t grace him with a reply. You just dip the quill back into your inkwell and resume writing—your script a little messier than before, your pulse a little louder.

Fred doesn’t move away.

If anything, he settles in, arm slung behind your chair like he’s lounging on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room and not wedged into a desk barely meant for one. His fingers toy with the end of your braid, slow and lazy, twirling it like he has all the time in the world.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and honey-slick, “I read somewhere that physical closeness actually helps with concentration.”

You scoff under your breath, flipping a page with more force than necessary.

“Really?” you say flatly. “Is that why you’re pressed against me like a clingy kneazle?”

“Exactly,” he says, completely unbothered. “I’m only trying to help. Besides…”

His hand drifts. Not far. Just a touch lower—his knuckles grazing your waist, thumb resting just under the curve of your ribs.

“Thought it might be nice,” he continues, a smirk curling in his voice, “if we found a way to meet each other halfway. You get to study. I get to be inside you.”

Your quill halts mid-stroke. Ink pools into the corner of the parchment like blood.

You stare down at the words that no longer make sense. And then, slowly, you lift your head to look at him.

Fred Weasley looks entirely too pleased with himself.

You exhale through your nose, steadying yourself like you’ve just been hit with a gust of cold air and not an indecent proposal in the middle of the library.

Fred watches you, waiting. Not pushing, not quite. Just lingering—close enough that you can smell the faint trace of peppermint on his breath, feel the heat radiating off his body like a second skin.

You set your quill down with quiet precision. Fold your hands atop your notes. And turn your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going to let you fuck me in the library,” you say, evenly. “That’s absolutely insane.”

His smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens, like he was counting on that exact answer.

“Didn’t say anything about fucking,” he replies, all innocent mischief. “I just want to sit.”

You arch a brow. “Sit.”

“In you.”

You blink at him. Once.

He leans in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “I won’t move. Promise.”

It’s the way he says it—soft, breathy, conspiratorial. Like a dare disguised as a favor. You hate how your thighs clench at the idea. Hate even more how easily he picks up on it.

“I’ll be quiet,” he whispers. “You won’t even notice me.”

That’s a lie, and you both know it.

But your body is already betraying you—heat curling low in your belly, your skin prickling where he touches you, your resolve bending in the weight of his attention like wet ink on a fragile page.

You glance down at your notes. Then at the empty aisle between the stacks. Then back to him.

“Five minutes,” you mutter.

Fred grins like you’ve just handed him the bloody crown jewels.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just shifts in his seat.

His hand slides lower, resting at the curve of your hip, fingers splayed wide. Possessive. Warm. He watches your face like he’s testing for hesitation—and finds none. Not anymore.

You pretend to keep your eyes on your notes. Pretend to stay still. But you don’t stop him.

He tugs, gently.

Not hard, not urgent—just a subtle pull, guiding you from your chair onto his lap like it’s nothing. Like you belong there.

Your skirt rides up immediately. Of course it does. The way you’re straddling him now—knees pressed to either side of his thighs, spine perfectly arched to keep your balance—it leaves you scandalously bare beneath the table. No barrier but him.

And he’s already hard.

You feel it—thick and heavy beneath you, his breath catching the moment you settle your weight into his lap. It makes your cheeks flush, even though you knew exactly what you were agreeing to. He keeps one hand on your waist, steadying you, and the other drifts—lower, bolder.

“Still want to study?” he asks, voice like velvet dragged over skin.

You swallow. Nod once.

Fred hums. You feel him shift again, hips tilting just slightly as he reaches down, the motion masked by the way you press in close, like lovers sharing a secret. Or a sin.

A moment later and some clothes shuffling, he’s inside you.

Thick and slow, inch by inch, and the stretch makes your mouth fall open in a silent gasp you don’t let out. Your hands grip the edge of the table like it’ll save you.

Fred groans softly against your shoulder, voice barely a whisper.

“Fuck, love. You’re always so warm for me.”

He bottoms out, then stills. Just like he promised.

And you—gods help you—you try to breathe.

You pick up the quill with shaking fingers.

Ink drips like sweat down the stem as you try to find where you left off—something about defensive charm layering, maybe. You’re staring at your notes, reading the same line again and again, and it still refuses to stick.

Fred hasn’t moved.

Not really.

But he shifts, ever so slightly—adjusting his grip on your waist, fingers spreading wider, anchoring you down. And then—

He flexes his hips.

Just once.

A deep, slow roll, barely an inch of motion—and it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. Your entire body goes taut, the quill scratching a long, jagged line across the page as your mouth parts in a sharp, involuntary gasp.

You bite it back immediately. Clamp your teeth down on your lip and squeeze your thighs around him like that’ll stop the trembling.

Fred hums, the sound reverberating low in his chest.

“That wasn’t a sound, was it?” he murmurs, lips grazing your neck like a ghost. “Because you said you could handle it.”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

He’s pulsing inside you, hard and hot and perfectly still again, but your body is aching—clenching around him like it wants more. Like it’s begging.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Open them. Force yourself to focus on the textbook, the words swimming like murky water. You pick up your quill again, start writing:

“Counter-spell applications rely on—”

Another roll of his hips.

Deeper this time. Slower.

Your pen jerks mid-stroke. The line splinters. Your breath stutters.

Fred chuckles, soft and sinful.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Need me to stop?”

You can feel the smirk without looking. You know damn well he’ll keep doing it until you crack. And the worst part is—you’re not sure you want him to stop.

Your fingers tighten around the quill like it’s the only thing anchoring you to this plane of existence. You scribble out the half-sentence you just butchered and try again, jaw clenched, back stiff.

“Do that again,” you hiss under your breath, “and I will hex you.”

Fred’s lips brush the curve of your ear, lazy and amused.

“You’d have to say the incantation out loud, darling.”

You freeze.

The bastard is right.

You whip your head toward him, eyes narrowed, face flushed. “I swear to Merlin, Fred—”

But the rest of the threat chokes off when he flexes his hips again—another slow, deliberate push upward, grinding just right, and your breath catches so hard it makes your vision blur.

He groans, low and quiet, like he’s savoring you. His hands grip your waist tighter now, thumbs stroking circles just beneath your ribs.

“Fuck, I love when you talk like that,” he mutters, nipping your jaw. “So bossy. So mean. Like you’re not soaking for me right now.”

You make a strangled sound in the back of your throat—one that would’ve been a moan if you hadn’t bit it down just in time.

The parchment in front of you is ruined. Your handwriting is illegible. Your thighs are trembling with the effort of staying still while he isn’t.

You grit your teeth and look straight ahead, breath coming in shallow pulls. “You’re such a smug little shit.”

Fred grins against your skin. “And you’re still sitting on my cock. Funny, that.”

You don’t respond.

You can’t.

Because right now, your body is trembling—coiled so tight with heat and frustration you’re not sure whether you want to slap him or sob into his shoulder.

Fred’s breathing hasn’t changed. He’s not panting. He’s not desperate.

He’s enjoying himself.

Smug, unhurried, infuriatingly calm as he brushes your hair aside and presses a kiss to the back of your neck like this is some sweet little moment and not a full-blown test of will.

You’re still trying to focus—gods help you, you are—but every word looks the same. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t remember what the difference between an incantation and an invocation is, because he’s so deep inside you and every tiny twitch of his hips sends lightning straight to your core.

Another flex.

Another gasp you barely bite back.

Your quill drops.

Fred notices.

“Mmm?” he hums, nuzzling your jaw. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reach for the parchment again with shaking fingers—and he rolls his hips, slow and deep, just once.

It punches a whimper straight from your throat.

“Please—”

The word slips out before you can stop it.

Barely audible. Raw. Desperate.

Fred stills.

You go rigid.

You hadn’t meant to say that. You hadn’t meant to say anything.

And Fred?

He smiles.

Wide. Wolfish. Victorious.

“Please what?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Go on, love. Use your words.”

You press your thighs tighter around him, like that’ll somehow dull the ache—stop the pressure building and building with every slow, sinful shift of his hips. But it only makes it worse. Makes him feel bigger. Deeper.

He hasn’t even started moving properly, and you’re already unraveling.

It’s pathetic.

And he knows it.

Fred’s breath ghosts over your jaw, smug and slow, waiting for you to answer. His cock twitches inside you, thick and perfect, and you swear your vision goes white for half a second.

You clench around him, a broken little twitch you can’t stop, and his fingers dig just slightly deeper into your waist.

“Please what?” he whispers again.

You hate him. Gods, you hate how much you want him.

The quill is long forgotten. Your parchment’s a lost cause. There’s ink on your fingers, your thighs are shaking, and your arousal is slicking his cock so thoroughly he could slide in and out with nothing but your own desperation.

And maybe that’s what finally breaks you.

Because when you look at the mess of your notes, when you hear the smirk in his voice, when you feel him shift again, dragging against that aching spot inside you with slow, agonizing precision—

You lose.

Your breath shudders out of you, and your hips rock down helplessly.

“Just move, Fred,” you whisper, desperate and cracked. “Please. I can’t—fuck, I can’t focus.”

The silence afterward is deafening.

You feel him still. Hear the pause in his breath. And then—

“Atta girl.”

He doesn’t wait for another invitation.

Fred doesn’t give you a second to brace.

His hips draw back—slow, torturous—and then snap forward, driving up into you with a force that punches a moan right out of your throat.

But before it escapes—

His hand is on your mouth.

Firm. Gentle. Possessive.

Like he knew you’d be too loud. Knew you’d give yourself away the second he started fucking you properly.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing the skin just below it. “Can’t have anyone hearing how sweet you sound, love. We’re still in the library, remember?”

You do not remember.

You can’t remember what you were trying to write.

His hand on your hip pulls you back into every thrust, setting a pace that’s deep and deliberate—none of the teasing now. No slow grinding. Just the heavy, wet slap of your bodies connecting, over and over again, obscenely quiet beneath the table, hidden in the shadows of the back corner.

It’s filthy.

And somehow, the way he holds you there—one hand muffling your moans, the other guiding your hips like you’re something he owns—makes it even filthier.

Fred’s mouth doesn’t stop moving.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he breathes, voice rough and aching with how much he wants you. “Taking me so well. Stuffed full of cock while pretending you’re still the smartest little witch in the room.”

You whimper against his palm. He groans, deep and desperate.

“Bet you like this more than studying, don’t you?”

You shake your head. You nod. You don’t know anymore.

All you know is the thick, relentless press of him inside you, the slick heat between your thighs, the way your body trembles every time his tip kisses that one perfect spot, again and again.

“Gonna make a mess of these notes,” he whispers, teeth catching your earlobe. “Gonna have you dripping all over your parchment.”

And you will. You know you will.

You’re already there.

His pace picks up—still measured, still careful, but harder now, more urgent. Like he’s chasing something. Like he knows you’re close and wants to bring you with him.

You’re panting against his palm, your moans muffled and raw, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how intensely it’s building inside you. It’s not just the pressure—it’s the heat, the stretch, the words. Fred is still in your ear, voice low and wrecked.

“Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he breathes. “So tight around me—fuck, I can feel it. You’re close, I know you are.”

You nod helplessly, trembling in his lap, hips rocking without rhythm now. Your thighs are shaking, your vision’s gone hazy, and you’re so close—one more thrust, one more whisper, one more anything—

He groans into your neck, his grip on your hip tightening as he drives into you with one last deep, devastating roll.

“That’s it,” he groans softly. “Come with me. I’ve got you.”

And you do.

You fall.

Hard.

Your orgasm crashes through you like a wave breaking over stone—violent, full-bodied, unstoppable. Your head tips back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open against his palm as you moan into his skin, thighs clenching around him as your body convulses with pleasure.

Fred comes right behind you, with a choked, guttural sound buried in your hair. You feel him twitch inside you, thick spurts of heat filling you as his whole body shudders beneath yours.

You’re both breathing hard, slumped together in the chair like melted wax. Your notes are crumpled beneath your knees, parchment spotted with ink and who-knows-what else. The table is skewed. One of the books is halfway to the floor.

Neither of you moves.

For a long, perfect moment, the only sound is your breathing.

Then Fred shifts slightly—just enough to press a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Well,” he murmurs, smug and completely unrepentant, “that’s one way to motivate you.”

You elbow him in the ribs.

He just laughs, arms wrapping around your waist like he has no intention of letting you go.

You groan softly, still slumped against him, every limb boneless, every nerve still buzzing with aftershock.

Fred doesn’t move.

If anything, he shifts his hold on your waist, snugging you closer like he didn’t just completely ruin your ability to walk in a straight line.

You squirm.

Bad idea.

He’s still inside you—softening, but not by much—and the movement pulls a tiny, wrecked gasp from your throat.

“Don’t move,” you mutter, breathless.

Fred chuckles, lips brushing your temple. “You’re the one squirming, love.”

You reach back blindly and slap his arm. “Let me up.”

“Mm. You sure?” he asks, far too pleased with himself. “I quite like it here. Warm. Cozy. Smells like sex and ink.”

You shove at his chest until he reluctantly lets you go. Pulling off of him is a mess—literally—and the way he groans as you do it makes you shoot him a look so sharp it could flay a lesser man.

But Fred Weasley is not a lesser man.

Still seated, flushed and smug, he watches as you tug your skirt back down and reach for your wand with slightly shaking hands.

“Scourgify,” you whisper, casting a quick cleaning charm on your thighs, the chair, the floor—everywhere the scene of the crime might’ve left a mark.

You glance at your notes. A mess.

Ink stains, quill snapped, one page with a streak that could only be described as biological.

You flick your wand again. “Tergeo.”

Fred lets out a low whistle. “Look at you. So responsible. So neat.”

You turn to glare at him, cheeks burning. “You’re not helping.”

“I never help.” He stands, stretches like a smug bastard, and zips himself up with a flourish. “But I do inspire, don’t I?”

You don’t answer.

You’re too busy mending your crumpled parchment with Reparo, gathering the remains of your dignity and the notes you now barely remember writing.

Fred slides in beside you again, arm slung lazily around your shoulder, head tilted like he’s admiring your work.

“Back to studying, then?” he asks, as if he didn’t just rail you through a library chair.

You don’t look at him.

But your lips twitch anyway.

[fgwzls]

୨୧ TEXTS WITH HP CHARS (except they have a fat crush on you)

๑ summary: title ➜ fluff , smau. hp masterlist — pre relationship

𝜗ৎ featuring @ Lorenzo Berkshire, Sirius Black, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Fred weasley, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood, Severus snape, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Barty Crouch Jr, Regulus Black, Newt Scamander, Theseus Scamander, Neville Longbottom, Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley(in order)

HELLOOOOO

©fgwzls/lecz3li (05.14.26) tag: @maeverrrb , @dreamydaredevil , @ilbeyourprettyprettyplease , @coldalpsmcu , @lilyyyyy08 — (hope you guys dont mind being tagged since yall r in the taglist of my other acc💔)

[gottalovesae]

Day 21: Roster ⭒ Theodore Nott + Draco Malfoy

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵︵‿୨♡୧‿

Characters: Theodore x Draco x fem!reader

Kinktober prompt: Threesome

2,057 words

Warnings: NSFW 18+, p in v, unprotected sex, Oral (female and male giving and receiving), fingering, cumming inside, nipple play, breast play, riding, scratching, choking (not really), restraints, using magic to make a vibrator, squirting, multiple positions, multiple rounds, anal, double penetration, rough sex, multiple orgasms, voyeurism

Yours Truly: THEEEESE TWO- Enjoy!

Taglist: @regu1ar-huh @bellaciao0

Kinktober masterlist

THANK YOU!

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The Slytherin common room was shrouded in the perpetual gloom of the Black Lake's underwater glow, casting eerie green shadows. It was late, well past curfew, the fireside reduced to embers that barely warmed the chill air. She, a fifth-year Slytherin with sharp wit and sharper ambitions, lounged on a velvet armchair, her emerald robes discarded in favor of a simple black slip that clung to her curves. She flipped through a potions textbook, but her mind wandered to the two boys who occupied far too much of her thoughts.

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Both pure-blood heirs, both devastatingly handsome in their own ways—Draco with his platinum hair and aristocratic sneer, Theo with his brooding intensity and tousled dark locks. She had fallen into a friends-with-benefits arrangements with each separately over the past year. Draco's encounters were all fire and possession, his hands claiming her body like it was his birthright. Theo's were slower, more deliberate, his touches unraveling her with a quiet hunger that left her breathless. They knew about each other—Slytherins thrived on secrets, after all—but an unspoken rule kept their paths from crossing: her time with one never overlapped with the other. It worked, mostly.

Tonight, though, fate—or perhaps the devilish luck of Slytherin—had other plans. The heavy door to the boys' dormitory creaked open, and Draco strode in first, his tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He spotted her immediately, a predatory smile curling his lips. "Hey," he says, voice low and laced with intent. "Fancy finding you here alone."

Before she could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows near the stairs—Theo, his prefect badge glinting faintly, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. "Malfoy," Theo said flatly, his gaze shifting to her. "Didn't realize you had dibs tonight."

Her heart stutters. She sat up straighter, crossing her legs to hide the sudden flush creeping up her thighs. "Boys," she said coolly, though her pulse raced. "This isn't a queue."

Draco's eyes flicked to Theo, a spark of rivalry igniting. "She's not your property, Nott. I was here first."

Theo stepped closer, his tall frame casting a long shadow. "And? She's not yours either. We've kept this civil so far."

The air thickened with tension, the kind that could snap into a hex or something far more heated. She watched them, a thrill uncoiling in her belly. She'd fantasized about this—both of them, together, their egos clashing over her body. But saying it aloud? That was a risk even for a Slytherin.

"Why fight?" she interjected, her voice steady despite the heat building between her legs. "You both want the same thing. Me." She uncrossed her legs deliberately, letting the slip ride up her thigh. Their eyes followed the movement, Draco's jaw tightening, Theo's breath hitching.

Draco recovered first, a smirk returning. "Share? With Nott? I'd sooner hex myself."

But Theo's gaze lingered on her, dark and considering. "She's right. No point in arguing. Unless..." He trailed off, a sly glint in his eye mirroring Draco's ambition.

"Unless what?" Draco demanded.

"We make it interesting. A competition. Whoever makes her cum the most wins. Loser backs off for a month." Theo's words hung in the air, bold and challenging.

Her stomach clenched at the idea. "And if I say no?"

Draco knelt before her, his hand sliding up her calf, fingers tracing the sensitive skin behind her knee. "You won't. Admit it—you've thought about this."

She had. Of course she had. Theo moved to her other side, his fingers brushing her hair from her shoulder, lips grazing her ear. "Say yes. Let us show you what the two of us can do."

Her resolve crumbled under their touches. "Fine. But my rules: safe words. 'Serpent' to stop. And you take turns—no ganging up unless I say."

They nodded, the agreement sealed with a shared, hungry look. Draco stood, offering his hand. "My room. Now."

Draco's dormitory was all dark wood and silver accents, the four-poster bed dominating the space. She entered first, the door clicking shut behind Theo. The air hummed with anticipation. She turned to face them, slipping the straps of her nightdress down her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. Naked now, her skin prickled under their stares—Draco's appreciative and possessive, Theo's intense and appraising.

"Beautiful," Theo murmured, stepping forward to trace the curve of her hip.

Draco shoved him aside lightly. "My turn first. Rules are rules." He guided her to the bed, laying her back against the cool sheets. His mouth crashed onto hers, tongue demanding entry, hands roaming her body. He cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they pebbled hard. She arched into him, moaning into the kiss as he pinched one peak, rolling it between his fingers.

Theo watched from the edge of the bed, his cock straining against his trousers, but he held back, eyes locked on where Draco's hand dipped between her thighs. Draco spread her legs wide, exposing her slick pussy to the room. "Already wet for me," he taunted, glancing at Theo. "Let's see how long she lasts."

He lowered his head, breath hot against her folds before his tongue flicked out, lapping at her clit. She gasps, fingers tangling in his blond hair. Draco ate her out with fervor, sucking her clit into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to sting. Two fingers plunged inside her, curling to hit that spot that made her vision blur. He pumped them relentlessly, his free hand holding her thigh down as she bucked.

"That's it," Draco growled against her skin. "Cum on my tongue. Show Nott how good I make you feel."

The pressure built fast, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She cried out, orgasm ripping through her, slick coating his chin as she shuddered. Draco licked her clean, smug as he pulled back. "One for me."

She panted, body still tingling, but Theo was already there, stripping off his shirt to reveal toned muscles scarred from Quidditch. "My turn." He flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so her ass presented to him. His hands kneaded her cheeks, spreading them to expose her fully. "Such a pretty pussy. Dripping from him already."

He didn't tease; Theo dove in, tongue thrusting into her entrance, fucking her with it while his thumb circled her clit. She moaned into the pillow, pushing back against his face. He added fingers, three now, stretching her wider than Draco had, scissoring to rub her inner walls. His other hand reached around to tweak her nipple, pulling until she whimpered.

"Come on, baby," Theo urged, voice muffled. "Give me one. Let me taste it."

She shattered again, faster this time, her pussy clenching hard around his tongue as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Theo hummed in approval, lapping up her release before withdrawing. "One for me. Tied."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Not for long." He undressed swiftly, his cock springing free—long and pale, veined and curving slightly. He positioned her on her back again, hooking her legs over his shoulders. "Watch this, Nott." With one thrust, he buried himself inside her, groaning at the tight heat.

She whines, the fullness overwhelming after the oral. Draco set a punishing pace, hips snapping forward, cock dragging against her sensitive spots. He leaned down, capturing a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his hand wrapped around her throat—not squeezing, just holding, a reminder of control. "Feel that? My cock owning this pussy."

She clawed at his back, nails leaving red trails, the edge building anew. Theo stroked himself slowly, mesmerized by the sight of Draco pounding into her, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. She came hard, walls milking Draco's length, but he didn't stop, fucking her through it until she sobbed from the overstimulation.

"Two," Draco panted, pulling out just before he lost control. His cock glistened with her arousal.

Theo wasted no time, flipping her onto all fours facing him. He shed his pants, his cock thicker than Draco's, with a slight upward curve. "My go." He rubbed the head along her slit, teasing her entrance before slamming in. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, the stretch burning sweetly.

Theo gripped her hips, thrusting deep and slow at first, grinding against her clit with each roll. Then he sped up, one hand sliding to rub circles on her swollen nub. "Look at me," he commanded. She did, eyes locking as he fucked her relentlessly. His free hand pinched her clit, the sharp sensation pushing her over.

She came with a wail, pussy spasming, squirting a little onto his thighs. Theo growled, holding her steady. "Two. Still tied."

The competition intensified. Draco claimed the next round, sitting on the bed and pulling her onto his lap, facing away. He guided her down onto his cock reverse cowgirl, hands on her ass as she rode him. "Bounce, darling. Harder." She did, slamming down, his length hitting deep. He reached around to finger her clit, the dual penetration from his cock and fingers sending her spiraling. Her orgasm hit her like lightning, her cries echoing off the stone walls.

"Three for me," Draco announced, voice strained.

Theo took over seamlessly, laying her on her side and lifting one leg high. He entered her from behind, spooning close, his cock stroking her g-spot with precision. His hand snaked around to play with her breasts, twisting nipples while he whispered filthy encouragements. "Cum again. Soak my cock." She did, body convulsing, tying it at three.

Sweat slicked their skin, the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping and her moans. She was a mess—hair tangled, lips swollen, pussy aching but craving more. The boys switched again, Draco eating her out while Theo fucked her mouth. She sucked Theo eagerly, tongue swirling around his head, hollowing her cheeks as he thrust shallowly.

Draco's tongue worked her clit, fingers inside, and she came around them, the vibration of her moan making Theo groan. But he pulled out before finishing. "Four for me."

Theo retaliated by bending her over the bed, ass up, and spanking her lightly before plunging in. He fucked her hard, hand fisting her hair, pulling her head back. "Scream for me." She did, orgasm ripping through as his cock pulsed inside her.

"Four."

The turns blurred—Draco using a vibrating charm on a silver ring from his wand, sliding it onto his finger to buzz against her clit while he thrust; Theo binding her wrists with a soft silk tie, teasing her with feather-light touches before ravaging her. She lost count, each one more intense, her body trembling from the onslaught.

By the tenth—five each—they were all fraying. Draco had her on her back, legs spread wide, cock driving deep while Theo knelt by her head, feeding her his length. She gagged slightly as Theo hit the back of her throat, but the fullness from both ends pushed her to cum again, pussy clenching Draco.

"Wait," Draco gasped, pulling out. "Tie at six? No—wait, that's seven for me if she..."

She came untouched from the intensity, slick dripping. Theo laughed breathlessly. "Call it even. Or keep going."

Her voice hoarse, managed, "Together. Both of you. Now."

They didn't argue. Theo lay back, pulling her on top, impaling her on his cock. Draco positioned behind, slicking himself with her arousal before pressing against her ass. "Relax," he murmured, inching in. The double penetration stretched her impossibly, pain-pleasure blurring as they filled her.

They moved in tandem, Theo thrusting up into her pussy, Draco grinding into her ass. Hands everywhere—Draco's on her breasts, squeezing and slapping lightly; Theo's on her clit, rubbing furiously. She was lost, sensations overwhelming, orgasms chaining one after another until she couldn't distinguish them.

"Fuck—!" Draco came first, spilling hot inside her ass, the clench triggering Theo. He followed, flooding her pussy, their releases mixing as she shattered between them.

They collapsed in a tangle, breaths ragged, bodies spent. No winner declared—the competition forgotten in the haze of satisfaction. She lay between them, sated and sore, a sly smile on her lips. "Best night ever. Rematch?"

Draco chuckled, kissing her shoulder. "You're on."

Theo nuzzled her neck. "As long as we share."

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[georgeplease]

The One Where We Have to Fuck or Die

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Fred gives Reader his test vial of a new love potion for the store. They quickly realize if they don’t have sex then it’ll kill her.

Tags: Porn Logic, Aphrodisiac, fucking like rabbits, both reader and Fred are in their late 20s-early 30s

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

It started as a normal Saturday for (Y/n). She had slept in, made some breakfast, cleaned her flat, and had been getting ready to relax for the rest of the day. That was until a familiar owl had found its way to her window, dropping off a letter with her name scrawled across the front. The handwriting was all too familiar, making her roll her eyes as she retrieved it from the owl before sending him on his way.

Having met the twins in her first year at Hogwarts was a pivotal moment, developing a fast friendship with the both of them after a prank gone wrong. That fateful afternoon sparked a 12 year long friendship between the twins and her.

Yet, there was always something between her and Fred, others may say they were destined together, they chose to believe they were just really good friends. It’s part of the reason he could send a letter like this, asking for her to rush down to his shop and help him. As annoyed as she would act, she would always rush to his side.

It didn’t take long for her to get dressed and make her way to Diagon Alley, easily finding her way through the busy street to her favorite store. As (Y/n) entered the shop she turned waving to George as she passed through toward the back. The store was as crowded as it usually was for a weekend, causing her to weave through several other customers before she was able to each the employees only section. The letter she had received from Fred to come to the store said it was an urgent matter, but having known him long enough, she was positive he was lying. But yet, here she was.

Not wasting anytime, she pushed into his office, seeing him sat at his desk, feet resting as he smirked upon seeing her enter.

“Well, if it isn’t my most loyal test subject.”

“What is it now, Fred?” She asked, crossing her arms, clearly not assumed by his mood.

Standing up, Fred walked around his desk, handing her a glittery pink vial, causing her to raise an eyebrow as she grabbed it from him. Looking at it, it was clear what it was supposed to be, having seen many of the Twin’s famous love potions before.

“A love potion? Don’t you already have several different kinds?” She asked, curious as to where this was leading.

“Not just any love potion, this is specifically for our older couples. You know, to help them spicy up their lives.”

“Like Viagra?”

Fred raised an eyebrow, not understanding what that was. He quickly shrugged it off, turning back to his sales pitch. “No, no. This is better than any muggle product.” Moving behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s the number one reason most people get divorced?” He gave a second for her to think before answering for her. “That’s right, lack of passion. Imagine how many people we could help if we sold passion in a vial. How ‘bout that?”

“Work on your sales pitch, but I do like the idea.” placing a hand in her chin, she observed the vial closely. “I figure you want me to test it?“ Looking over her shoulder she sees Fred nod. “Have you tested it on anything else?”

“Tested a few drops on some plants, didn’t kill them so it should be fine for human consumption.”

“That sounds promising.” She teased, sliding away from his grasp. “What’s in it for me?”

“Besides being so horny there’s no way you won’t have an amazing orgasm once you go home?” He teased, before continuing his pitch. “Usual price, 50 galleons and unlimited supplies if you so need it.”

Fred stuck his hand out, waiting to see if she’d take his offer. After pondering for a few seconds, she reached out with her free hand shaking it. A deal with the devil, some would say.

Uncorking the vial, she pressed it to her lips, swallowing the liquid. Luckily, he had been able to get it to taste more pleasant than his other attempts, reminding her of fresh strawberries with cream. Her eyes moved to look at the ceiling, waiting for the desired effects to happen. Awkwardly she began to look around the room to pass the time, feeling a little weird to test this kind of potion in front of her friend, but money is money. And she trusted that Fred would not kill her.

As she took a look behind him, her attention was drawn to his work station. Her eyes were drawn to the ingredients he had used, haphazardly tossed about. There were the components to making a love potion, a rather simple potion. No, what caught her eye was the other ingredients he had mixed, a good amount well known aphrodisiacs along with an odd collection of ingredients that have her an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Walking over, she got a better look at them, understanding why she felt so uneasy. Mixing these ingredients together are well known for causing the person who took the potion to die if certain conditions weren’t met.

Wide eyed, she snapped to look at Fred, her body feeling warm as she felt it begins to take effect. He seems none the wiser to his fatal error, his arrogant smirk pissing her off. Throwing the empty vial at him, she turned on her heel to face him.

“You fucking moron.” She spat, panic raising in her voice, her legs subconsciously clenching together as that heat began to grow between her legs. “You didn’t make a better love potion, you made an aphrodisiac with poison.”

Fred’s face contorted, not understanding why she seemed so ticked off. His brows pushed together, as he walked over to her, trying to better understand the situation, while also a little ticked off she had thrown the small vial at him. He began to watch her more closely than before, thinking that something about his potion had caused her reaction.

Trying her best not to act on the deep ache, she moved farther from Fred. The feeling was almost too much, her hand subconsciously moving toward her crotch, wanting to swirl circles to dull the ache. Instead, her other hand moved to hold the other one, interlocking her fingers together behind her back.

“What are you on about?” Fred asked as he moved closer.

“Fred, this potion is going to kill me. How fucking dense are you?” (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair, tugging at it to try and regain her focus as her thoughts grew more perverse.

“You’ve gone mental. Don’t tell me you never been horny before, love?” Fred teased, watching the way her face flushed like a virgin.

“I’m being serious.” She said, fanning herself as she felt her body warm up. “You’ve basically just signed my death warrant if I don’t get shagged as soon as possible.”

“So you’re saying, you need dick not to die?” He laughed, almost not taking her seriously.

“Shut up.” She spat, moving away from him as he moved closer.

“Have you gone sick in the brain?” He asks, reaching to take her temperature, which she skillfully dodged. “Honestly, woman, if you wanted me that badly you didn’t need to make up such an insane lie.”

“Fred, fucking listen to me.” She said, stepping forward and grabbing his face to look at his ingredients. “Think real hard about what these ingredients do. I know potions wasn’t your strong suit, but fucking think.”

As Fred surveyed the ingredients, he tried his best to recall his potions class. As his mind ran through all the things Snape had said, he came to the same horrifying conclusion she had come to moments ago. His head whipped around, noticing how want she looked, her eyes struggling to stay locked on his face, and the way her legs shook as they clenched together.

“Oh, I fucked up.” He mumbled, his brain racing as he tried to think of an antidote. Fred bolted from his spot, looking at what ingredients he had left. His mind was racing trying to figure out how to make an antidote before his potion killed her.

Her eyes watched him, panic rising through her body as she felt how the heat began to rise within. The potion Fred had brewed was a lot more fast acting than she was expecting. Even though her brain was being quickly consumed with impure thoughts, she began calculating how much time she had before it would inevitably kill her, but her thoughts kept getting interrupted.

Her eyes trailed down his body, wanting nothing more than to pull his trousers down and go wild with him. It felt insane, she had known him since they were teens and they had never once come close to hooking up, despite all the rumors that had swirled saying otherwise. Speaking of rumors, her mind couldn’t help but focus on the rumors of how good Fred was in bed, remembering how they spoke so highly of his ability. How the girls he did hook up with swore he was the best fuck they had ever had.

Letting out a drawn out whine, she stomped her foot, closing her eyes tight as she tried to fight back from thinking of him like that. It felt so shameful, like she was no better than a common pervert to think that way about Fred. Shaking her head, she used all her brain power to push the impure thoughts out, which she was successfully able to do.

Given the large amounts of aphrodisiacs he had mixed in, she figured they had less than 30 minutes before the effects became irreversible. No matter how fast her and Fred worked, she would still be dead before he figured the correct concoction. The only solution was that they had to have sex now. Eyes widening, she felt a new emotion besides instensely building lust, dread.

“We don’t have fucking time,” she cursed, her breathing becoming more labored as she tried to speak, “we have to do it.”

“It?!”

“It!!!” She shot back, already moving to throw her shirt off her body, exposing him to the way her chest heaved.

Fred nearly had a heart attack seeing her chest. It wasn’t like he was a virgin or anything, he had seen his fair share of tits, but this was his best friend. His insanely hot best friend he has had a massive thing for for years now, but still his best friend. His best friends who was surprisingly good at removing her clothes as fast as she can, most of her clothes now thrown about his office. His best friend who looked as if she was going to jump him any second now.

“We don’t have time for you to guess who to brew the antidote, unless you’d rather I die than fuck me.” Her voice was strained, trying hard to focus on her words than succumbing to the lust.

Fred didn’t respond immediately, causing her to look at him, worried he might just let her die rather than fuck her. Most of her clothes were already thrown around the room, she felt way too exposed for a serious moment like this. Raising her eyebrows, she shot him a concerned look, silently pleading that he wouldn’t just let her suffer for his mistake. It seemed to have knocked some sense into Fred, who quickly responded.

“Right,” he stuttered out, “you’re right.” He quickly said, beginning to unbutton his shirt, his mind racing with a million thoughts. “I am so bloody sorry, (Y/n).”

“Shut up, if you get all sad and shit it’ll be difficult for you to get hard.” She replied, trying her best to seem cold and calculated. Her thoughts were only occupied on getting this done as soon as possible, no need for feelings. “You can think of ways to make this up to me after I’m no longer dying.”

“Wait,” Fred said, making (Y/n) stop in her tracks, “let me just…” he reached over, pushing her close to him before apperating them both into the apartment above the store, right in his room. “This will be better.”

The environment from his office to his room was definitely better, no longer could they hear the muffled sounds of customers from within the store. Fred’s room was messy, clearly he hadn’t assumed this would be how his day would be going. As he threw his clothes onto the floor where the rest of his laundry seemed to end up, he tried to think of sexy thoughts to get himself aroused. But looking back at his friend, who was giving him the most fuckable bedroom eyes he had ever seen did the trick.

(Y/n) ripped off her underwear, tossing them into the room before laying on the bed, crawling backwards as she let out a shaky moan, her mind unable to fight off the lustful thoughts anymore. Her hand reached between her legs, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but only making her more needy. Some part of her felt humiliated, to be reduced this easily from a potion, no longer able to spit out any kind of insult at him as she stared up at him. All she was able to do was speak directly from her lust, not able to cover it up with any kind of quick witted reply as she normally would.

“Fuck,” she shakily moaned, her eyes then locking onto Fred’s, “need you. Badly.”

Now, here’s how Fred’s usual hook ups turn out. He charms them into his bed and then shows them how it’s done. Never in his life had he ever been lost for words, yet a situation like this rarely occurs. So you must forgive him for not knowing what to do watching his best friend of over ten years touch herself and talk to him like that.

Fred made his way to the bed, sliding in between her parted thighs. He felt like a total prat for even struggling to take control of the situation and fuck her. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Fred steadied himself, reaching down to stroke himself a few times. His cock stood tall and proud, making her clench in need as she looked down.

As he lined himself up with her entrance, he found the situation awkward given their history. She deserved better than a standard fuck, a little romance and, though he hates to say it, a little passion. Looking down at her, his hair falling perfectly over his face, he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

(Y/n) looked at him incredulously, already completely naked in front of him. The rational part of her brain wanted to tell him no, to keep their feelings out of this and just do what they have to to keep her from an early grave. But god, did she want to kiss him. To not feel like this decision is inevitably going to ruin your friendship.

She quickly nodded her head, her lust answering for her as she shot forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.

It should’ve been awkward, like kissing a sibling. They both should’ve hated the kiss, but instead it was electrifying. Their mouths melded perfectly together, as if they were meant to be.

As they made out, Fred got to work, rubbing the tip of his cock against her cunt, trying to coat it in her slick before he slid in. His eyes almost rolled back when he felt just got wet she already was, groaning into her mouth as his hips subconsciously pushed forward. (Y/n) whined against his mouth, her eyes screwing up as the tip of his cock bumped into her inflamed clit, mumbling out his name.

It was all too much, her body felt on fire as she began to beg him to fuck her, tears welling as the potion came to a head. Her head was swimming with lust as she felt his length press against her.

Fred began to push in, trying to go as slow as possible. God, it felt way too good to be true, as if she was meant for him the way she perfectly sucked him in. As he pulled back from the kiss, he couldn’t help but watch the way he stretched her open.

“You feel s’good,” Fred groaned as he was fully sheathed in her.

“Fred-,” her voice called out, the air from her lungs having been knocked out from the feeling. Her nails were digging into his back as she felt him bottom out, his words almost too much to hear at the same time. “Move. Move now, need it,” it would’ve sound like her usually bossy tone if it wasn’t as whiney as it had been.

His hips moved back, almost agonizingly slow before snapping forward with enough force to move her up the bed. She couldn’t tell if it was the potion or if Fred was actually this good in bed, but it was driving her crazy how good she felt. A part of her feared she may be ruined for life, that nobody else would ever make her feel this good ever again. Not that she’d ever admit that to him, his ego already too inflated for his own good.

“Need me that bad that you’ll beg for it?” He smugly spoke, his hips snapping forward to accentuate his point. “Need me to fuck you nice and hard?” He teased, clearly not feeling as awkward as he once did.

Reaching out, his finger masterfully found its way to her clit, swirling around it. (Y/n) threw her head back, loudly whining as she ground against him. Her hands went to cover her face, embarrassed that she knew the potion wasn’t entirely to blame for how horny she felt in this moment. That fucking her best friend was better than any rumor she had ever heard.

“Come on, tell me how good you feel, (Y/n).”

God, did she want to smack him upside his smug head, to wipe that grin off the cocky bastards face. But she couldn’t hide the way his words made her feel, how he cunt clenched tightly around him each time he spoke. Bringing her arm over her face, she attempted to hide from him, too flustered by his dirty talk. Nobody had ever talked to her like this and she definitely didn’t expect Fred would be the one to do so.

His hips started to slow, causing her eyes to snap open. Panic began to rise in her chest, both sides of her brain not wanting this to stop. It was a bluff, he felt way too good to stop. And he didn’t want her to die either.

“Need you to tell me how bad you want this cock.”

Exasperated by his sudden need to hear her, she let her lust driven brain speak freely. Throwing her head back, she didn’t even filter her thoughts out.

“Please fuck me, need to feel you fill me up. Feels so fucking good, Fred.” Her hips attempted to grind up against his, but felt his hand hold her down. “Wanted this, wanted to feel you stretch me out for so long.”

“You’re so bloody perfect.” Fred’s his snapped back into hers, a new sense of vigor taking over as he pounded into her. “Gonna make this pussy mine.”

His eyes met hers and for the first time they saw each other since this whole mess started. She stared up at him with her pupils blown out in lust, but with so much trust in him.

His hips stuttered as he felt unbelievably close, his mouth opening as his eyes shut, letting out a groan. “Oh, fuck. Feels so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

As he spoke, her hips began to rise, grinding against his groin as she met his thrusts. The deep need to release filling her mind to the brim. Her head moved to look at the clock on the wall, but Fred’s hand moved to stop her from looking.

“Focus on me,” he spoke, his voice deep as his hips began to hammer into her harder, “just focus on me.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing how he looked at her for the first time was eye opening. All the love and adoration he felt for her as his hips continued to pound into her made her legs lock around him, keeping him in place. Throwing her head back, her vision turned white, her voice cracking from the intensity she felt as her body tensed up around him, finally releasing.

And Fred was right, this was one of the best orgasms of her life. Mind shattering, earth breaking, pure bliss from such a tiny vial of poison.

His hips began to slow as she clenched around him, sucking him deep. Feeling him twitch inside her as he shot his load into her, his hips pressing firmly against hers as he released his seed. Her eyes clenched shut and her nails dug into his shoulder blades, hard enough to leave marks.

Unexpectedly, he leaned down, pressing a passionate kiss to her lips, his hips still pressed firmly against her. (Y/n)’s hands flew to his hair, tangling into his ginger locks as she kissed back, riding out their climaxes together.

Once the emotions came down, he rested his forehead against hers, savoring the remaining moments before he had to pull away. Looking back down, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then pulling out, apologizing as he saw her wince at the feeling.

As Fred pulled out, (Y/n) felt her body begin to feel normal again, no longer under the control of the potion. Between the mix of sweat and the feeling of his cum leaking out of her, she felt that her thoughts were finally hers, no longer clouded by lust. Looking over, she saw Fred running a hand through his hair, seeing him in entirely new light than before. And suddenly everything made sense to her.

All those failed dates, countless nights spent wondering why nobody ever made her feel like this. It all clicked into place in her mind.

They were both laid in Fred’s bed, staring at the ceiling, coming to terms with everything they just did. No longer with the looming threat of death, it gave them a moment to reflect on what this meant for them. It was clear that they could not ignore this and move on from it, not when they both felt the same.

Fred makes the first move, moving closer to her, doing that thing where he pokes at her head when she’s over thinking. He gets one of those smiles that just lights up the room before he speaks to her.

“Soooo… round two?” Fred half heartedly joked.

Her hands reach to grab her pillow and push it into his face, softly smothering him. She playful pulled away from his embrace, needing to run to the bathroom to clean the mess.

“Shut up, I need to get cleaned up.” She spoke, trying to sound irritated but the smile on her face betrayed her.

He playfully reached out, missing her warmth next to him as she searched the room for something to cover herself with.

“Hopefully that afternoon crowd will keep George busy, because I’m not done with you.” Fred yells after her, laughing at her embarrassment as she wrapped a blanket around her and ran down the hall to his bathroom. “I have years to make up for not doing this.”

“Yeah, you can think of ways to make up for nearly killing me while your waiting.”

Tag list: @lowdownlolo @samsamsantos @clpritchett @almostpurplelady @wwmalufa @artzygurl @shininjjongg @hellohelohelo @multi-fandom-imagine @hehehhe1d @novausstuff @h-0-error @tatumrileyslover @marauderslover18 @renaholicss @vyxz-00 @lunacurlclaw @buendiabebeta @theacreativity @lousypotatoes @starziux @erika5373919882920 @rotravelsblog @stupidfer @liviacarol88-blog @calablack @aki-ham @elizabethblood9 @itsaperiwinkleworldv2 @reenfluffmarshmallow @liviacarol88-blog @

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Theo: I cut my finger

Y/n: I can kiss it, so it'll get better

Theo: That works?

Y/n: Yeah, my mum used to do it when I was little

*later*

Theo: I need you to punch me in the mouth

Draco: Fucking finally

[tinymarikit]

His Smile

part 2

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

summary: you were gushing about george's smile

content: fluff, 2nd pov, short fic

a/n: excuse any cringe writing and errors. i know it's my first post but i've been on a decade long hiatus that I even forgot my email and have to make a new tumblr account.

p.s. this was inspired by a tiktok edit of george weasley. ariana's song below was used in said vid. here's the link.

p.p.s. this might also be self-indulgent. let me blabber about my man's smile pls ;^;

Fred Weasley maybe most girls' favorite. But George Weasley was yours. Especially, that most radiant smile of his.

The very one that has you enchanted the first time you saw it on the face of second year George as he and Fred came running down the halls to get away from an enraged and slime-covered Filch.

The very one where the corners of his eyes crinkle so adorably even with that little spec of mischief gleaming in them. Especially, then.

You swear that that smile of his could light up the darkest room in Hogwarts. There's just something in them, you know?

The type of something that makes your heart flutter and ache with too much adoration for a boy. But no one's blaming you for your very obvious, fat crush on him.

Which was why it pains you — no, offends you how your very own friends could even say such things about him.

"Ugly twin?? How dare you utter such rubbish right in front of me!" you huffed.

"It's not that serious," one of your friends chuckled in amusement at your exasperated reaction.

"We just find Fred more attractive, that's all," the other shrugs.

"Yeah, Fred's smile-"

"Nuh uh!" you exclaimed as you cut your friend off with a raised finger before she could even dare finish that sentence.

"George Weasely has the best, most adorable, radiant, handsome smile Hogwarts has and will ever see. Period. Fred could neee-vah compare!" you jabbed your finger on the table like you were stating absolute facts. Which you were, excuse them!

"His smile could blind a troll to death with how resplendent it is! Fred's smile is brassy and cocky. But my George's? Absolute cinnamon roll. Oh! And, don't even get me started when he laughs!"

Your friends could only shake their heads as they watched you clutch your heart dramatically like you've been struck by cupid himself at the thought of George Weasley's smile and laugh. Your friends find it truly astonishing just how down bad you are for this Gryffindor boy.

"Resplendent? Never heard that one before. What an interesting word to describe someone's smile. With passion, nonetheless."

It felt like the world suddenly took a pause. Well, your group seems to be.

You turned your head rigidly like an unoiled mechanical machine in sheer dread, praying that it wasn't who you know it was. That maybe by some astronomical miracle, it wasn't him who was behind you.

But, alas, the universe is not on your side for your eyes met brown ones cascaded by those familiar orange locks that you adore.

There, stands George and Fred who seemingly had been on their way to their supposed spots in the Gryffindor long table when they heard you rave about George.

"Looks like you have quite a fan here, Georgie. I say I'm quite jealous. No one seems to notice my adorable, radiant and handsome grin that could blind a troll to dea-"

Fred gets elbowed by George. Hard. Poor bloke had a bit of a cough fit paired with a series of groans.

In the midst of that twinly chaos, you remained frozen and caught like a deer in headlights.

"I was having a bad day so far. But you've lifted my spirits quite a bit there," George grins at you. And, despite the teasing tone in them, that smile was soft in a way that makes one's heart flutter involuntarily.

"As a token of my gratitude, I think you deserve this," George takes out a big box of chocolate frog from his pocket and grabs your hand to place it on.

To say that your heart is in your throat by now, would be an understatement. Because, not only did George freaking Weasley heard you gush about his smile, he also grabbed your freaking hand and placed a chocolate frog in them. You're just about ready to combust from embarrassment and happiness alike.

Fortunately for you, you were able to squeak out a thank you before George and Fred finally left. By then, you finally allowed yourself to collapse on your seat. Your friends think you might actually faint.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"What took you two so long?" Ron frowns, hand already outstretched when Fred threw him his every-flavored beans.

"Oi! It takes a bit while to grab five people's candy stash. Some of you lot hid it a little too well, you know," Fred huffs at the audacity to question him and his twin's — albeit delayed — charitable actions for the group.

"Plus, we got caught up by something interesting on the way," Fred grins as he elbows George. Hard. Definitely, his retaliation from his brother's earlier assualt.

"Whu ish Fwed tawking avout?" Ron asks with a mouthful of beans that Hermione scolds him for with a 'Don't eat when your mouth is full, it's disgusting!' and a wack on his head.

George glares at Fred as he took his seat. "Nothing," George replies as he opens his chocolate frog.

"Nothing, he says. It ain't nothing if Mr. I don't -share -my - sweets gives his largest chocolate frog box to a girl-"

That seems to have caught everyone's attention.

"What..?"

"A girl?!"

"George shared his sweet??"

"There's no way he gave the largest one!"

George groans at what Fred had just unleashed. Stupid twin brother.

"It's just one sweet—" George tries to argue.

"That's not what you said when I grabbed your licorice wands yesterday. Your least favorite sweet, might I add!" Fred crosses his arms with a huff.

"Because you took five instead of the two you said!" George huffs back as the Weasley twins glared at each other.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Lee chants with a grin.

And, chaoes ensues.

a/n: planning to make a series about this. of reader, admiring george. but we'll see XD. edit: i made it into a series! here's parrt 2!