🍓AN: this was supposed to be a quick small headcanon thingy but yall know Fred has me in a chokehold
🍓Pairing: perv!Fred Weasley x Female Reader.
🍓Warnings: NSFW. pervert fred. disgusting behaviour so read at your own risk
🍓Word Count: 1.6K
🍓Taglist: @its-jennarose
🍓Masterlist
Perv!Fred who's always openly flirting with you at any given chance. Testing the waters, seeing if you’d let him push the limit and when you do he'd make sure to put it to good use. Like when he saw you enjoying a lollipop. His eyes half-lidded as they follow the slow movement of you swirling it around with your index finger and thumb.
"Is that cherry?" He asked you as you popped the candy out by the stick.
"Raspberry. Last one though" you replied knowing that's his favourite flavour.
“You want some?”, you joked bringing the candy out to him for a second.
Before you could put it back in your mouth his hands are reaching for it, gently wrapping around your own.
He leaned in, taking the candy in his mouth like it’s not completely covered in your saliva. You're speechless as you see him twirling it around his mouth. His tongue swirling around the lollipop.
The thought of sharing saliva with Fred instantly made you thoroughly hot and bothered. Fred never breaks eye contact almost like he was daring you to say how disgusting he was. But the taunt never came. You averted your gaze patting your cheeks to feel exactly how heated your skin was while Fred silently enjoyed the treat, greedily sucking at the sweet and tangy raspberry flavour mixed with the taste of you.
Perv! Fred would always insist on accompanying you to Hogsmeade, especially when it was time for your start-of-semester shopping. While others preferred to unwind at the Three Broomsticks or Honeydukes, you took pre-term shopping very seriously. And Fred was sweet enough to agree to be your little helper.
Unbeknownst to you, the shopping spree was just as enjoyable for Fred as it was for you—perhaps even more, since he got to watch you try on dozens of short, fitted clothes, often at his suggestion. Fred would always insist that he loved helping his close and dear friend pick out the perfect outfits, even though he had no real sense of girls’ fashion. You never questioned him tagging along because he was always so sweet and patient as you spent hours deliberating which skirt worked better for a casual look or which dress suited you best.
“How does this look?” you asked, stepping out of the fitting room, slightly tugging the dark denim shorts that clung to your thighs like a second skin, paired with a cream-colored button-up shirt that wrapped tightly around you, almost as if it were sewn onto your body.
Fred took his time, looking you over from head to toe. He didn’t miss how smooth your legs looked under the bright store lights, or the way you innocently tried to tug down the shorts that kept riding up your thighs. He hummed, pretending to be in deep thought, stringing together words that could pass as authentic fashion advice.
“Let me button up those first,” Fred pointed out, gesturing to the two undone buttons on your shirt. Swiftly, he closed the distance between you in a single stride, his long legs making it effortless. Without hesitation, he reached for the first button, expertly closing it. The close proximity made you blush, as you could smell the faint hints of cedar wood cologne mixed with the warmth of a nearby fireplace.
This gave him the chance to discreetly glance at your chest, he couldn’t help it.
“There” he said, stepping back to take in the whole outfit. In reality, though, his eyes lingered on how your bra was slightly visible through the sheer material of your shirt and its light color, exactly why he had suggested it.
He’d do the same with dresses, often picking the tightest ones with the least fabric. While you changed behind the thin fitting room curtains, he would run around to return the hangers to their place, catching little glimpses of you in just your underwear. Of course, you didn’t know, and no one else did. This was all for his eyes alone, a secret he kept carefully.
“Fred!” you’d yell at him whenever he ‘accidentally’ walked in while you were changing, always apologizing so earnestly that you couldn’t help but feel bad for thinking he did it on purpose. But, of course… he did.
Perv!Fred was hopeless whenever you pulled out your lip gloss. The moment the cap clicked open, his thoughts went scattering; his eyes inevitably drifted to your mouth and stayed there, even from across the room.
“Let me try,” he had asked one, reaching for the tube before you could swipe it on yourself. His grin was shameless.
“I want to see what’s so special about your gloss that you feel the need to reapply every twenty minutes,” Fred teased as you giggled.
He hunched his shoulders, lowering himself to be at the same level as you to put it on.
“Guide me, yeah?” he whispered, already bringing the applicator near your top lip. The simple command made your knees weak as you parted your lips lightly.
Fred’s touch was unexpectedly gentle. He traced the gloss along your top lip, then steadied your chin with his free hand before finishing the sweep across your bottom lip, his gaze flicking between your mouth and your eyes the whole time.
The sparkly gloss made your lips look so kissable. He couldn’t help but imagine how he’d love to ruin your perfectly glossed lips, all smudged and covered with saliva as your pretty lips wrap around his aching cock.
You puckered up your lips imitating a kiss “Pretty?” you asked cheekily.
“Prettiest.” Fred couldn’t help but smile, the word coming out softer than he expected all while fighting the urge to do something reckless.
Perv!Fred who loved passing you little notes with the filthiest jokes or comments. Somtimes funny ones or sometimes straight up filth.
You unfolded the note he passed you in class one day which read: ‘If you keep biting your quill like don’t be surprised if I start thinking of dangerous thoughts’
Or when you mentioned about struggling with your flying lessons Fred so thoughtfully offered to tutor you with a note, filthy writing and even a filthier message inside: ‘Y’know, about your terrible broom skills. Ever tried riding a broom at night? Faster, riskier.. might have to hold on to me really tight ;)’
The note stared back at you as you sat surrounded by your friends. Heat coursed through you. You cast a quick glance around to make sure no one had read the filthy message over your shoulder. When you finally dared to look up, your eyes met the sender’s. Fred held your gaze, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he lounged lazily on the sofa, knees spread wide in careless confidence. Manspreading. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to jump him and maybe settle between his toned thighs.
Perv!Fred who’d pocket your panties at any given chance. You’d mentioned the disappearance of your lingerie to your friends, questioning them if they had mistakenly taken them as in the girls’ dorm — clothes mix-ups were common. But it was Fred who’d sneak into your room, having memorized your schedule, so he could easily slip past and browse through your drawers leisurely to retrieve his favourite piece: a baby-pink coloured lace one that was fairly new, as you had only worn it once. Sometimes he’d even reach down into your clothes hamper, fishing out one that had clearly been worn. Fred knew he was being a pervert, but he couldn’t help being addicted to the sweet scent of yours clinging to the flimsy fabric as he took a deep inhale, his nose buried deep in your panties.
When he’s back in his room alone, trousers halfway down, your panties wrapped around his fully erect dick. He’d carefully palm himself, dragging the fabric up and down his shaft. Imagining it was your delicate hands working skillfully on his dick. He’d cum hard every goddamn time. Making sure to wash the panties before returning them.
Perv!Fred who loved playing the caring and sweet friend when you’d complain about your aching feet and legs. Just a simple whine from you about your sore feet was all it took for Fred to grab your legs and gently placing them on top of his lap as you both lounged on the couch in the Gryffindor common room.
Doesn't matter what you're wearing, sweatpants or a skirt, Fred always found your legs super sexy. Gently grabbing your thighs with his warm hands softly kneading the flesh. The massage he offered is so soothing that you barely see the look of hunger in his eyes as he'd bullshit you about being a trained masseur and honestly you don’t care because his hands are doing magic.
Perv!Fred whos always sneaking off with you to secluded corners or broom closets. The closet providing barely any space to breathe as you’re chest to chest with him, bodies crammed. Him not caring about Filch possibly catching you both with the way your letting out little mewls due to his skilled fingers working quick on your body. Hot lips leaving a trail of kisses down your throat as he’s whispering dirty things into your ear.
“Shit babe, you’re gonna get us caught. Do you want to give Filch a show, hmn?” he warned you as he had your skirt bunched up, his hands resting at your waist,your shirt almost half off, clinging onto your absolute pervert of a boyfriend. You loved every second of the thrill.
