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[allthesmutl0vers]

Introducing: Callum 'Cal' Jacob Weasley

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This character is of my own creation, and all credit belongs to me.

©️ Elle's Cove (allthesmutl0vers) 2025

Pronunciation: Cal-lum - 'Cal' like like the beginning of 'California'.

(Voldemort will be the father of Tom and Mattheo in his backstory - it makes it easier to follow some of the cannon events in the og. storyline.)

Backstory:  

Twin brother of Ron Weasley and the black sheep of the Weasley family. From a young age, he has always been curious about the darker sides of magic—often staying up late to eavesdrop on late-night conversations between his parents about the first Wizarding War. 

What started as an innocent childhood curiosity about the Dark Arts only grew more inquisitive the more the adults in his life—even his siblings—tried to stamp out his curious nature. His older brothers sometimes even resorted to violence when they tried to get their point across: The Dark Arts are absolutely and irrevocably evil. 

Due to his explosive and sometimes abusive homelife, Callum often spends the holidays at Hogwarts—refusing to go home and listen to his family boast and pretend that Molly and Arthur don’t fight every other day, that Ron is best friends with precious little orphan Potter an the insufferable Hermione Granger, or how every child is perfect except for him. During the summers, he spends the majority of his time with his best friend, Tom Riddle, at Riddle Manor, just down the road from Malfoy Manor. On the chance he is home—he locks himself away in the attic that he claimed after threatening the ghoul that once occupied it. Sending owl messages late at night or sneaking away to steal whatever rare and/or forbidden items his customers request.

While Callum despises most of his family, he has a soft spot for his youngest sibling, Ginny—who was too young to remember most of the abuse inflicted by their older brothers and occasionally their father on a night after too much Firewhiskey. Ginny also shares a curious nature for the Dark Arts, but primarily from a scholastic perspective. Having spent many nights in Callum’s dorm room listening to his low and soothing voice read her to sleep with whatever Dark Arts tome he has nearby when she wants comfort during a thunderstorm. Sometimes even humming a soft and gentle tune that Molly used to rock him to sleep with as a baby before everything went to shit. 

His curiosity for the Dark Arts morphed into an obsession once he started Hogwarts. Sorted into Slytherin house, unlike the rest of his family, he found a new one in his peers. While at first, the Slytherin boys were hesitant, if not cruel, to the young Weasley boy—a bond was formed over the years over sleepless nights in the common room talking about everything under the guise of Dark Arts, and the shared stories from their perspectives of the previous war passed down from their parents.

While Callum refuses to truly trust anyone in this world, the bonds he has formed in his new family keep him from well and truly going off the deep end. 

Once he entered his Sixth year, Callum was very advanced in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms. These skills allow him to make his own money, much like Fred and George—but far more sinister. Using a mix of his ability to blend into any social situation, his disarming charm and sensual wit, and his acquired skills, to steal and deliver rare relics and forbidden contraband to his countless customers—his friends’ parents and family.

Personality:  

A true chameleon, able to blend and adapt not just his wardrobe but his entire personality to any/all situations he may find himself in. Whether it’s dressing up in his best robes to attend the annual Malfoy Christmas party or dressing down to the snug dark jeans and a black hoodie that he occasionally uses to break into any place he can’t charm his way into.

A master thief who can steal anything off/from anyone. While his fingers do their best work while turning you into a puddle at his feet, they can also steal a watch right off a person’s wrist while talking right to them. He takes pride in his work—even if nobody outside of his group knows he does it. 

Untrusting is an understatement. While Enzo may have his little black book of conquests, Callum has his own. Filled with pages of the jobs he’s done and complete with proof of payment as well as the exchange—just in case anyone gets the bright idea to short him on payment or betray his services. 

Manipulative on a level that matches Tom. You never know if he is being honest or not—which he finds incredibly amusing as he watches you try to figure him out. The way you don’t even realize that he’s wrapping you tighter and tighter around his long finger until it’s too late. The way you do absolutely anything he asks, thinking it will make him stay—that everyone else was wrong about him being incapable of love and your delusion that you are any different from the rest. Only to be left in pieces that he has no intention or desire to pick back up. Until he needs something from you again, that is. 

Physical Characteristics:  

Very tall—6’5”, an inch taller than Fred and George, and six inches taller than his fraternal twin, Ron. He has short Weasley-red hair and almond-shaped eyes that are a dark blue around the edge of his irises and morph into a steel-grey towards his pupils (central heterochromia). He is tall and toned—muscular but not as much as, say, Mattheo is. 

His dick is long (8’) and thick, with a Jacobs’ ladder on the underside of his shaft—making you count all seven bars as he slowly stretches you to accommodate him, all with a gaze that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, he might think of you as something more than a cock sleeve.  

Habits: 

He doesn’t smoke weed often—mostly at parties in the common room when he has no business arrangements to take care of and has time to breathe. 

He hates being drunk. Not because he can’t handle his liquor—but because of the numerous times Arthur would come home from a long day at the Ministry only to pop open a bottle and end up fighting with Molly about their countless kids they can’t afford and when it was really bad, end up dragging Callum by his collar out to the shed for whatever reason he could come up with—usually Callum’s quiet and reserved behavior, but on the nights Arthur got violent, Callum’s curiosity for things he has ‘no business’ meddling with. 

He’ll occasionally accept a drink to be polite in social situations that require it, but a minute later, the glass is in the hands of one of his friends who is more than happy to take it off his hands—usually Tom. 

True playboy. Being pansexual, he is open to sex with anyone he deems worthy of his valuable time. He never officially came out, but when a poor Ravenclaw boy left his dorm room in the early hours of the morning before dawn, hair tousled and barely keeping his fucked-out expression together, nobody batted an eye. Nobody was dumb enough to. 

Likes:

Loves to read and will spend hours with Tom in the library going through the restricted section as they work their way through the books and taking the information they need. 

He doesn’t play Quidditch, although he enjoys the game. However, he will make suggestions or comments about his friends’ performance after a match—whether they’re welcome or not. 

Equally loves both tits and ass. I mean, how could you possibly ask him to choose between that girl’s perfect tits and that guy’s plump ass he just wants to bury his cock into? It’s more cruel than his father, really.

If Callum were to fall in love, it would have to be someone who challenges him. And not in the playful, ‘pick me’ way where you always let him win. No. It would have to be someone who challenges the very core of his being. Someone who actually makes him have to think about his answer before he gives it. 

Male, female, non-binary, etc. None of that matters to him. You may not be pansexual, and that’s okay—he doesn’t care about your sexual preferences either, so long as you never judge him for his. 

Actually quite enjoys the prank boxes that Fred and George come up with—though he’d never admit it to another living soul. He’s never used them, but he’s pondered all of the ways the items could be manipulated to suit his desires. 

Dislikes:

His family—Ginny, is the only exception, given that she was too young to remember the worst of the abuse he endured, actually treating him with kindness as she secretly shares his younger curiosity for the Dark Arts.

Manipulative people—ironic, I know. But there has always been an unspoken rule between himself and his friends—never manipulating each other. But pretending to be into the things he is into in an attempt to manipulate his emotions will only end in humiliation. 

Example: Lavender Brown. The girl who thought she could go from one brother to his twin in an effort to make Ron jealous. While he may not like his twin—you don’t manipulate his family. That right is reserved only for him. And when Lavender tried to use Callum as a pawn? She ended up on her knees in the center of the courtyard with a blind fold on her eyes and lips parted wide as she begs for his cock, only for the blindfold to be ripped away as the surrounding students laughed.

Friends:

Tom Riddle—his best friend and closest confidant. The only person in the entire world that he trusts completely without question. Often assisted by his best friend on robberies that require more than two hands. If there is one person in this world that Cal actually wants but can't have; it's Tom Riddle.

Mattheo Riddle—Tom’s own twin brother who is more than happy to be a wingman or distraction to the unfortunate soul’s friends that Cal has set his eyes on for the evening. And unlike his brother, the person Callum trusts the least to keep a secret because Mattheo is incapable of keeping his yap shut—especially around Theo. 

Theodore Nott—the only other person who will stay sober (from alcohol) during a party just so they can have a somewhat intelligible conversation over a joint or a few cigarettes.

Draco Malfoy—his second closest friend and the resident drama queen of Slytherin. And the only person that Callum will let talk his ear off about how his clothes weren’t tailored just right, or how some insipid first-year spilled pumpkin juice all over his new robes as if it’s the worst thing that could ever happen in Wizarding history. 

Lorenzo Berkshire—bottom to the stars and Callum’s favorite fuck. With a mutual understanding that it will never be more than friends, Enzo is his favorite to fuck. The way his lips part so damn pretty as unintelligible whimpers manage to slip past the moans he makes—fuckk. It’s enough to drive anyone wild.

Blaise Zabini—don’t tell him, but Callum would 100% fuck his mother if Blaise wouldn’t cut his dick off in his sleep. Something Blaise made very clear when Mattheo voiced the same thought in a drunken stupor. Besides that, Blaise is the one who always has just the right thing to say—even if it’s not what you want to hear. Scratch that—especially when it’s not what you want to hear. Simply because you need to hear it.

Goal in life:

While Tom’s ultimate goal is power—Callum’s is control. The need that drives the deepest parts of himself. There is no such thing as disorder or dysfunction when it comes to Callum—one of the many reasons he and Tom are so close. Every move is premeditated, every touch intentional, and every record of every job he’s ever done is written neatly in the little black book he keeps under his mattress. 

Ready to rule by his best friend’s side with precise control, Callum will do anything for control. He isn’t above using a curse or two to make his demands a reality—but often enough, he never needs to use it. His charm and siren-like seduction can and have reduced almost everyone to their knees. 

Almost.

(Are we looking at a potentially more explosive story than Albus and Gellert?)

Elle thinks so. 🫦

Taglist @joelmillerdilf @stanley83 @lonely-isthe-muse @k-kizkhalifa @erika5373919882920 @willowlovestheweasleys @celestia-ihardlyknowher

Comment on this post ->here<- to be added to the taglist

©️ Elle's Cove (allthesmutl0vers) 2025 I do not give my permission to copy, print, translate, or repost my work.

[allthesmutl0vers]

New story coming!

Based off of this one-shot that I just honestly fell in love with so...

✨ ta taaa✨

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Summary Nobody really knows how y/n Waters and the notoriously mischievous Weasley twins became best friends, but one thing is certain; they've been inseparable ever since. So it really was no surprise to anyone that y/n, and at least one of them get together. But goddamn, nobody saw her ending up with both. But with a war on the horizon? It's still anyone's guess.

c.w Slightly au (they don't leave Hogwarts before graduation is really the only major difference) twincest, darkish-romance (dark themes at times), mentions of death of a family member(s), depression, off-page suicide (no major characters were harmed in the making of this chapter(s)), heavy smut (lawd help you bestie - but we both know you like it), dealer!Weasleytwins (I promise you are NOT ready for this), slow-ish burn, weed smoking, growing, and selling, (I will add a more in-depth cw warning on individual chapters, Fred and George are their own warning; let's be real.

a.n kind of a re-write of Managing Mischief, which has been abandoned bc it's one of my oldest/first fics, and tbh the grammar and spelling - I simply cannot be bothered to re-write it on its own. I will be working on this fic as well as From The Ashes (which I am happy to announce will be getting regular updates starting on Saturdays)

Taglist @joelmillerdilf @stanley83 @lonely-isthe-muse @k-kizkhalifa @erika5373919882920 @willowlovestheweasleys @celestia-ihardlyknowher

(Comment ->here<- to be added to the taglist)

©️ Elle's Cove (allthesmutlovers) I do not give my permission to copy, print, translate, or repost my work.

[allthesmutl0vers]

*slaps my WIP* this bad boy can fit so much angst in it

[allthesmutl0vers]

he's just a baby 🥹🫶🏻

girls will look at a man and say “he’s just misunderstood” as he murders people

[allthesmutl0vers]

Soooo. I have some news. 🫣

I'm turning this into a full fic. 🙂‍↔️

Gonna start pre-Freddie and reader, and give y'all the whole shebang with some filthy, and I mean filthy smut - and of course some biting your laptop/phone in cuteness aggression fluff.

Gotta feed my babies 🙂‍↕️❤️

Release tbd, be sure to follow for updates, and comment on the tag list to be added!

@celestia-ihardlyknowher @joelmillerdilf @staley83 @k-kizkhalifa @erika5373919882920

Whispered Confessions and Potential Arson

Fred and George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Request from this anon request

CW NSFW, Established Fred/Reader relationship, pining!George, unprotected p! in v!, creampie, dom/sub relationship, switch!Fred, spanking, God kink (like one line) light bondage (cuffs), sub!reader, dom!twins, alcohol consumption, implied aftercare, poly!relationship, praise, degradation, breeding kink if you squint, oral (m! and f! giving/receiving), anal, double-penetration, is it really twincest if no sword-crossing, fingering, fireworks and other Weasley twin shenanigans

WC 5.6k

Music Inspo

15 Minutes - Sabrina Carpenter (requested)

Make Your Move - The Relapse Symphony (I get the feeling George would like them)

a.n I kinda got carried away with this one so its a little long. hope that's okay. part 2 maybe? 🥹🖤

H.P/Slytherin M.list H.P/Slytherin Taglist Requests/Asks: OPEN

Dating Fred was easy. For the most part, at least. Sure, you had to deal with him landing himself into detention with his twin brother or his friends sometimes, but that was nothing in comparison to how he made you feel.

Every touch lighting a fire deep inside of you that craved nothing more than to let him devour you until there was nothing left. The way his large and calloused hands delicately guide you through the busy corridors between classes, brushing just against your lower back like he's afraid to break you.

The same hands that wrap around your wrists like a vise, pinning you either on your back or with your face buried in his pillow, crying out his name as he drives into you relentlessly, making your breath catch in your chest with every deep thrust.

So, yes. The occasional detention is a small price to pay for Fred to be yours.

What you didn't know, however, is that Fred's twin brother and your best friend, George, has been watching everything from the sidelines. Wanting nothing more than to feel your lips against his just once. To run his equally large, slightly softer hands up your sides the way his twin gets to, to feel the touch of your delicate skin under his fingers just once.

Fred knows about this, of course. And while he was initially angry with his brother, he couldn't help but understand. I mean, you're the most perfect girl in the world. How could his brother not fall for you? And he'd be lying if the thought of sharing you with the person he trusts the most, hasn't crossed his mind a few times since finding out. To see just how far those pretty little limits of yours can be tested.

Safely, of course.

All of these things coupled together, along with the fact that Fred landed himself in detention again, but with Lee Jordan this time, is what set the ball in motion for what your grandchildren will call either the greatest love story ever heard, or the most heart-shattering tragedy.

With a war on the horizon, it's anyone's guess. Which is why we have to cherish the time to fuck, that we have left. Or whatever the philosophers say.

The common room is warm, and the fire crackling in the fireplace casts a warm glow on the near-empty room. Most students have gone to bed or snuck out for the night. The book sitting on your lap is a comfortable weight, completely capturing your attention even as the couch dips next to you.

"Hello, gorgeous."

George's voice manages to break your focus, drawing your gaze up to his, his lips curled into a cheeky grin that is almost identical to Fred's, George's lips seemingly a little more red, surely from all of the cinnamon candy he eats, probably tasting the same, too. Not that you've ever thought about it, though.

"Hey, Georgie. What's up?" Your naturally warm and kind voice hits his ears. The way your eyes look up into his forces him to swallow, masking any of his feelings for you with a grin and a laugh.

"Oh, just thought I'd keep my brother's girl company," he responds, his voice filled with its usual charm and wit, but there's the faintest lingering feeling that you can't name behind his words, almost as if he's reminding himself that you're not his. Which would be crazy, right?

You nod your head, dismissing any thoughts about him that aren't simply friendly, which has become increasingly harder, and has caused a pit of guilt to start to carve deep inside of you.

"That's really kind of you, I appreciate it. What did you have in mind?" You thank Godric for your voice coming out even as you turn your attention to him.

George watches as you close your book, your delicate fingers wrapping around it as you lean forward to set it on the coffee table in front of you. Sitting back in his seat on the sofa, unable to help but let his eyes roam over your slender figure once before clearing his throat and running his fingers through his red hair.

"Y'know, me and Fred have been working on some new fireworks. Thinkin' about making a different set for each of the houses to put on their own displays," he responds. The sparkle of mischief growing in his brown eyes, his voice smooth and warmly charming.

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you playfully roll your eyes. "As if you two need to be doing anything else with gunpowder. You're going to burn down the school one of these days, mark my words."

The laugh that rumbles from his chest shouldn't make your heart flutter, but it does. The warm and rich sound, which reminds you so much of your boyfriend but is so different at the same time, makes your head spin, and that pit of guilt carves deeper.

"C'mon, that'll be Seamus and we all know it," he responds, nudging your arm with his elbow and sending a shiver down your spine when it most certainly shouldn't. "I promise, it'll be fun. Besides, I think Fred and Lee have at least another hour."

The way your eyebrows knit together in concentration, weighing the options in your mind, makes his cock twitch to life in his jeans, the hardening muscle straining more against the fabric the longer you look at him like that---so fuckable.

"Okay. I suppose we can go, so long as we're back by the time Freddie comes back."

George forces himself to tear his gaze away from yours, focusing on anything else as he tries to level out his breathing. A faint blush rises on the back of his neck, which is barely covered by his red hair. 

“Great. Let’s get going. I know the perfect spot to light them off. " He pushes himself off the couch, waiting for you to follow him out of the common room and through the chilly, moonlit corridors.

“You’re going to get us into trouble, you ass,” your carefree laugh carries through the night air as the next firework explodes high in the sky. A beautiful array of red and gold sparks shining even brighter than the stars, taking the form of a roaring lion’s head before dispersing into shining flecks. “But you’re bloody brilliant. I’ll give you that.”

George’s chest swells with pride. He smiles wide and dazzlingly as he walks closer to you, holding a shot glass of Firewhiskey. “Ah, I aim to please, darling. " His voice comes out low, bordering on flirtation. His fingers brush against yours when you take the glass, and his deep brown eyes lock down on yours in a gaze that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Especially when it comes to you,” he adds, his voice low and slightly strained as if he’s physically holding himself back. He takes another step closer to you, his towering and broad frame barely a foot apart from your smaller frame, further closing the gap between your bodies, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Too close, but for some reason you can’t pull away. 

You take the shot of Firewhiskey, the smooth cinnamon whiskey burning your throat in a desperate attempt to focus on anything else besides your boyfriend’s twin brother looking down at you with an expression that borders on reverent longing and desperate hunger. 

“George, I—”

“I love you.”

His confession spills from his lips before he can stop them, his heart hammering against his sternum at the sight of your eyes widening, looking as if a stunning spell has struck you. The subtle hitch in your chest, and the way you look up at him in a mix of confusion and surprise makes him want to kick himself for confessing his love so abruptly, having surprised even himself. He and Fred had talked at length about how to approach the subject of his feelings for you, and this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. 

But damn him, he can’t bring himself to regret it for even a second.

“Well, well. What have we got here? Finally confessed, eh, Georgie?” 

Fred.

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice behind you snaps you back to reality, making your stomach drop when you notice George’s towering frame is somehow now mere inches from yours, your face slightly angled up towards his. You can’t process Fred’s words right away, the shotglass slipping from your fingers and landing with a soft thud on the grass at your feet, hurriedly taking a few steps away from George to put some distance between you both despite already having been seen by Fred.

“Freddie, I can explain,” you rush to respond, scrambling your brain for any excuse or reason why you were so close to his twin brother. 

Fred’s eyebrow arches slightly, a small smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, taking a step closer to you. “Mm. Is that so, love? Well, by all means, explain,” his voice takes on a slightly teasing tone, not harsh but rather amused, challenging you to come up with an excuse, his eyes raking across your flustered face and reddening cheeks. He’s always thought you were most attractive when you’re flustered, coupled with the fact you’re not outwardly denying your attraction and proximity to his twin brother, make him want nothing more than to take you right here, right now. 

But he’s patient. They’ve been waiting for this moment for months now, and he’s not about to rush it. 

And neither is George. Who takes a few steps toward his twin brother, turning to face you with him, an equally amused and mischievous smirk on his lips, the tip of his tongue slowly darting out to wet his lips, capturing your attention before you force yourself to focus on Fred again, clearing your throat softly.

“We came out here so George could show me your guys’ new fireworks,” you start, your slender hands trembling softly at your sides with nerves. Have you ruined everything? Fred’s tone is playful and teasing, but there’s something else to it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Go on,” Fred responds, George and him each taking a step closer to you, his tone low and husky. 

“And don’t leave anything out, gorgeous,” George adds, his fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach out and pull you close.

Are they… into this? 

You nervously pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your cheeks heating up even further, looking down at the grass under your feet. “Then we were just drinking and talking…” your voice trails off as guilt and desire swirl deep inside of the pit in your stomach. 

Two long fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to look up at them both once again, both of them now towering directly in front of you. Fred’s thumb gently swipes across your bottom lip. “Ah, ah. You’re forgetting one little detail, baby. Wouldn’t you agree, Georgie?” 

George tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk pulling on his lips as he looks down at you. His brown eyes burning with restrained hunger. “Oh I do, Freddie,” George chuckles huskily, one of his hands reaching up, his fingers brushing against your cheeks next to Fred’s under your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. “I believe she is forgetting how close we were standing,” he leans down, his face mere inches from yours just like it was before. 

“Right after I told her I loved her.” 

Merlin, the way they talk about you like you’re not even there fuels the fire of desire inside of you, pushing out more of the guilt until there’s only a sliver left, just enough to make you nervous as you decide to take a risk.

“Maybe I just forgot,” your voice comes out flirtatious, a hint of nervousness behind it that makes you look even more desirable as you try to hide it with a smile, but the way your gaze flickers to Fred’s as if searching for reassurance is a dead giveaway.

Fred’s fingers slide down your chin, resting around your smooth and slender throat, just hard enough to remind you who is in charge. A low, rumbling chuckle coming from their throats as George pulls back and Fred’s face takes his place in front of yours, leaning down just enough for his lips to brush against yours in a whisper of a kiss. 

“I highly doubt that, baby. You were going to kiss him, weren’t you?” His tone neither questioning nor accusatory, but rather amused and husky with desire. His fingers wrapped around your throat tighten just enough for you to feel the pressure from the pads of his fingers. “You were going to kiss my twin brother whilst I was in detention, eh?”

Your gaze flickers to George, shame and arousal washing over you as you nod your head, looking back at Fred again. “Would you be mad if I did?” You challenge, your soft voice making your throat vibrate under Fred’s fingers. The slight teasing in your tone going right to both of their cocks already straining against the fabic of their jeans. 

Fred leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear and his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“I would be mad I missed it,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers tightening even further around your throat for just a moment before he lets go completely. Smirking at the small hitch in your breathing as he pulls back, looking down at you as he drags his lower lip between his teeth. “Now, be a good girl f’me and do it, eh?”

You barely have time to process his words before George takes his place in front of you, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing against your soft lips, the ones he’s been dreaming about kissing for as long as he can remember. His brown irises barely visible around his desire-blown pupils.

“I’ma kiss you now, sweet girl. That a’right with you?” The sweetness in his tone contradicts the dark desire swirling in his eyes, making your heart flutter and your head swim, nodding your head softly, the warm, smoky scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket. 

George lowers his head slightly, teasingly hovering his lips just above yours, his eyes roaming your flushed face before landing on your slightly-parted lips. “Use your words,” he growls, eyes never leaving your lips, wanting to watch you speak the words he’s desperate to hear.

“Yes, it’s alright with me,” your voice comes out a little more rushed than intended, shifting slightly on your feet in anticipation. You’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the lust and longing that you no longer have to hide coursing through your veins.

“That’s our good girl,” Fred murmurs from behind you, his large hands sliding down your sides, his chest brushing against your back, effectively pinning you between them. 

George’s hand snakes behind your head, his fingers running through the long hair at the nape of your neck, his eyes finally locking on to yours again as he finally closes the distance between you.

Cinnamon. You were right. His lips taste like cinnamon with the faintest hint of the Firewhiskey you shared earlier while watching the fireworks. A whole new kind of explosion erupting inside of you as his tongue softly traces the seam of your lips, and of course you part them, allowing his tongue to glide against and tease yours. 

A soft moan is dragged from your lips as Fred’s hands travel down to your thighs over your skirt, squeezing the plush flesh, and you can feel the hardness of their cocks against your lower stomach and back. Brain filled with nothing but every dirty thing you want them to do to you.

“Fuck…” George groans softly against your lips before pulling back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We need to go,” he adds roughly, looking up at his twin over your shoulder, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly in the strands of your hair. 

“Now.”

“You and that muggle music of yours, I swear,” Fred chuckles huskily, listening to you hum the lyrics to ‘15 Minutes’ on the brisk walk back to the Gryffindor common room, his grip on your waist tightening.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, a faint blush painting your cheeks. “It’s a good song,” you respond, trying your best to sound innocent when the lyrics are anything but. “Besides, it’s not wrong,” you add, squeezing George’s hand you're holding. “I can do a lot in fifteen minutes. And I won’t need two to make you finish.”

George’s jaw ticks with frustration, his hand squeezing yours back, his grip firm but not painful. “Is that a challenge, little minx?” He asks gruffly, their pace quickening as the common room comes into view.

“What happened to sweet girl?” You can’t help but tease, raising an eyebrow playfully at him as Fred says the password for you three to enter. 

“Sweet girls only get called sweet when they behave accordingly,” his hand lands on your ass in a sharp slap, making you gasp and blush redder than a tomato as you step into the common room.

Fred laughs lowly as he slings his arm around your shoulders, both of them casually guiding you to their dorm room, ignoring the whispers and curious looks from your housemates. “Oh yeah, spanking her ass gets her all riled up. Don’t it, baby?” He teases looking down at you with a wink.

The door to their room closes with a soft click of the lock. The familiar and comfortable surroundings of their dormitory and the privacy make it easy to relax. “Maybe so. But that doesn’t mean I can’t rile you up just as much,” you tease back, looking up at them as your fingers trail down your chest, teasing the buttons of your shirt. “And yes. It is a challenge,” you finally respond to George’s question. 

Their eyes follow the path of your fingers and you notice the subtle differences between them when they're aroused. 

Fred, you already know, gets more teasing. Frustratingly using his wit in a way that makes you want to both slap him and drop to your knees for him at the same time. His breathing is heavier and slightly ragged.

George, on the other hand, seems to become more firm, even dominant. His quick retorts and commands flow from him with a natural ease, making every order impossible not to obey. His breathing is shallow and controlled. 

George takes a step closer, Fred leaning back against his wall with a smirk as he bites his bottom lip. 

“Well, we never turn down a challenge. Fred, start a timer,” he responds, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling out one of their desk chairs and taking a seat facing you. 

“Two minutes each?” Fred asks from somewhere behind you, and you swear you can hear the shit eating grin on his face. 

George never takes his eyes off yours, beckoning you closer with a curled finger, and the tip of his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip in a way that makes your breathing stutter. 

“Nah. She said she doesn’t need it, remember?” He responds to his twin, his eyes roaming your body hungrily as you stand between his legs. “On your knees, sweet girl. Lemme see you put those pretty lips to use, eh?” He swipes his thumb across your lips as you sink to your knees between his long legs. Parting them to respond when he cuts you off. 

“Ah, ah. Timer’s already started, baby. Better get to work.”

If your hands weren’t already preoccupied with unbuckling and unzipping George’s jeans, and if they weren’t so damn tall, you’d reach behind you and slap your boyfriend. Or take his cock in your hand too, you wouldn’t be opposed to that. 

George’s control slips for just a moment as you take his long and thick shaft into your hand, the tip red and leaking with precum. You can see it in the way he sucks in a short breath, a low groan escaping his lips when you lick the slit on the head of his cock, the sound only heightening your arousal.

What is it about men being vocal that is so hot?

When your tongue licks a slow, long swipe up the underside of his shaft, it takes everything inside of him not to cum right on your face. The way your eyes are blown wide with enthusiasm and arousal, the way your pupils dilate when he runs his fingers through your hair, gathering it into a pony behind your head. Because God forbid something prevent him from seeing every inch of your face when you finally take his cock into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he moans gruffly, bucking his hips up into your mouth as your lips stretch around his shaft, the head of his cock hitting the spongy back of your throat, listening to the soft gag that follows. “So damn beautiful.”

Fred can see the way your body reacts to his twin’s praise. The way your body shudders ever-so-slightly at being called beautiful while you take every inch of George’s cock that he gives you. The way you try to rub your thighs together under your skirt, no doubt having soaked through your panties already. 

“And already soaked through those fuckin’ panties too, eh, baby?” Fred palm his aching cock over his boxers, his jeans and shirt already long forgotten, his teasing eliciting a moan from you that makes George grip your hair tighter and moan again from the vibration of your moan and the way your head bobs faster.

By now, Fred would have had you face down, ass up on his bed, pile driving into you until you scream. But the way his twin takes his time with you, not rushing even though you’re on a timer, only adds to the fire burning deep inside of him. Not a jealous fire, but a primal, almost animalistic fire. He’s never watched you with someone else before, but Godric help him, the way you suck his twin’s cock is almost enough to make him smash the damn timer on the ground and say fuck it. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to watch. The act is surprisingly thrilling to him, making him kind of wish he was being forced to watch, rather than doing it willingly. 

And George wouldn’t be George if he didn’t know his twin like the back of his hand.

“Grab the cuffs out of my nightstand. One wrist attached to the bedframe,” his twin’s husky but controlled voice snaps him back to reality, his movements staggering slightly as he follows the command.

“Fuck, look at him, sweet girl,” George purrs, pulling your head off of his cock with a wet pop, turning your head to look at Fred with those puffy lips still connected to his twin’s cock by a strand of saliva and precum. “Got’m lookin’ all pathetic and tied up while you’re suckin’ my cock.” 

Well fuck. That shouldn’t make him as hard as it does. 

Nor should it make him whimper, but he does anyway. Sounding just as pathetic as George is making him out to be. 

“You like watching, Freddie?” Your sweet and slightly hoarse voice hits his ears, his eyes locked on your slender hand still stroking George’s cock. His cock bobbing against the fabric of his boxers under his free hand. 

“Yes. Keep going,” his usual witty tone lost in desperation to watch you continue, forced to sit back against the headboard of his bed, excitement and lust running through him like a live wire. 

George smirks, lifting you off of the flood with ease, laying you back on Fred’s bed, your head resting on the comforter beside his waist. “Don’t mind if I do,” George responds as he sheds the rest of his clothes, his large hands grabbing you from behind your knees and pulling you to the edge of the mattress, pulling a small gasp from your lips as he swiftly removes your skirt in one fluid motion. 

“George! This is a new shirt,” you gasp when his fingers rip open your white blouse, sending buttons flying around the room, seemingly having had enough of not feeling your skin under his fingers all to himself for the moment. 

“We’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, his large hands sliding up and down and grabbing your sides as if trying to carve every inch of you into his memory. “Fuck, we’ll buy you ones simply for us to tear off.” 

Your back arches, pressing up against his chest your legs wrapping around his waist, tilting your head back to meet Fred’s gaze, watching as he strokes his long and hard cock with his free hand, the other cuffed to the wooden headboard behind him. 

“That feel good baby?” Fred asks as George’s lips finally travel down to your soaked pussy. His lips wrapping around your puffy and needy clit and sucking in a way that has your hands flying to his head, fingers tugging at the soft red strands.

You nod your head dumbly, still looking up at Fred. “Mmhm, feels…so good,” you murmur, your breath coming out in short and heavy pants between moans and gasps of pleasure. “Oh God,” you moan louder when George pushes two fingers inside of your warm and wet entrance, your arousal coating his fingers before with drawing them, giving you a small slap against your slick folds, the sensation only heightening the pleasure coursing through your body, making your clit pulse with need. 

“Don’t bother crying out for him, little minx. He left the second you let me kiss you,” George warns from between your thighs, pressing feather-soft kisses along your folds before darting his tongue out to flick your clit again, swiping over the sensitive bud with precise licks and flicks that are meant to drive you right up to the edge, but not enough to let you fall over it. 

It’s only when your panting and shaking, begging him to let you cum, does he finally relent. Pulling back and licking your arousal from his lips. “With pleasure, sweet girl. Ride him,” he responds, nodding to his twin behind you, and you don’t need to be told twice.

“Oh fuck,” Fred moans, his muscles tightening as you sink onto his long and painfully hard cock. The warm and wet walls of your pussy wrapping around him and taking him deep, feeling even better after having been forced to watch, his free hand grabbing your waist so hard it’ll be sure to leave bruises. “Take this fuckin’ cuff off, George,” he adds in a groan as you start to ride him, barely able to focus on anything else except for the feeling of you fucking yourself on his cock. 

With a low chuckle, George removes the cuff from the headboard, Fred’s hand immediately finding the other side of your waist, holding you up as he thrusts into you, pulling moan after gutteral moan from those sweet fuckin’ lips of yours. “Yes, please…” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for, head swimming with arousal and unable to think of anything else besides Fred filling your pussy and the way the bed dips between Fred’s legs as George’s hands snake up your chest from behind, one hand rolling your nipple between his fingers and the other sliding up to your throat and forcing you to look up. 

“Please what, sweet girl? You want more?” George asks, his teeth nipping at your ear. “One cock just ain’t good ‘nough for you anymore, is it?” He continues as his fingers slide from your nipple to your clit as Fred continues to thrust up into you, his strokes slow and deep, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. “Answer me,” he gently slaps your clit to get your attention, making you gasp and shudder, Fred growling with warning and desire as you tighten around his cock.

“N—no, one isn’t enough anymore,” you whimper, too lost in the submissive and love-fueled headspace you’ve found yourself in to care how pathetic you sound. “I need more…so much more, please.”��

George kisses down your neck, his hands leaving your throat and pussy, making you whine at the loss before you hear a soft click of a cap opening behind you. “Ever had this little ass taken, sweet girl?” George asks, his voice low and husky with desire. 

You shake your head, your pussy fluttering around Fred and your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. “No, Georgie.” 

He growls from behind you, Fred holding you still as George slides his lubed fingers across your tight hole, not breaching the tight ring of muscle, but merely putting pressure on it, the new feeling making you stiffen on instinct. 

“Shh. Relax, baby. We’ll take good care of you,” Fred murmurs, pulling you down against his chest in a kiss, his hands sliding up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You let your body relax as much as possible, Fred’s cock still buried deep inside of you, moaning against his lips as George’s finger finally breaches the tight ring of muscle. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna have to take it nice’n’slow with you, aren’t we?” George groans with pleasure, his long finger slowly sliding in and out of your tight hole, letting you adjust before he adds a second finger. 

The next thing you know, George is sliding his long and thick cock into your ass. You gasp and let out a guttural moan at feeling so completely full, nails digging into Fred’s shoulder as they both start to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first, but picking up speed and momentum as you adjust. 

“You’re a goddamn vision, baby. Takin’ us so fuckin’ good,” Fred groans his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your hips, his chest rising and falling with a mix of exertion and a primal need to continue fucking you into oblivion. 

You cry out in pain and pleasure as George lands a sharp slap to your ass, making you moan and your entire body shudder. “Such a perfect little slut for us. Look at those fuckin’ tears,” he growls, one hand tangled in your hair and forcing you to look up at him behind you, the other wrapped around your throat - not hard enough to cut off your air, but just enough to make your head feel light before relasing, mascara streaking down your cheeks, and those big eyes filled with tears of pleasure. “Stunning.”

“Please… I need to cum,” you whine between moans and gasps, the coil in your belly unbearably tight. “Fuck, I’ll do anything.” 

Fred and George instantly still, the silence only broken by the soft whimper of protest escaping your lips. 

“Anything, you say?” Fred’s lips curl into that same mischievous grin that he gets when he’s about to do something reckless. 

And damn if you weren’t willing to do whatever you needed to to relieve the pressure built up inside of you. “Damnit, Fred, yes. Anything,” you moan, rocking your hips back against their cocks inside of you, feeling their hands tighten on your hair and body. “Just please don’t stop, please just let me cum.”

“Bloody hell, that fucking begging,” George punctuates his groan with a hard thrust in your ass, making you cry out as they both start to thrust again. “Could listen to it all fuckin’ day. Gonna fill you up nice’n’full, ain’t we, Freddie?” 

Fred moans, his large cock twitching inside of your pussy. “Damn right we are. Make her walk around stuffed with our cum everywhere she goes,” he thrusts hard, matching George’s equally hard thrusts with his own and making you see stars. “You want that, baby?” 

“Yes, fuck, yes…I need it,” you mewl, high on the feeling of their cocks buried deep inside of you, thrusting with abandon. Sweat clings to your skin, the air heavy with the sound of moans, slapping skin, and the obscenely wet sounds of your dripping pussy and thouroughly lubed ass. 

“You can cum now, sweet girl. Give us all you’ve got,” George growls from behind you, his command sending you spiraling into Nirvana, crying out their names in a deperate prayer, the only thing tethering you to the Earth is their hands on your body and the feeling of them both spilling their hot, thick cum deep inside of your tight holes. Fred’s moans mixing with George’s grunts and groans as they ride you and themselves through your highs. 

After a long, hot shower, and a change into one of Fred’s shirts and a clean pair of George’s boxers, they lay down on either side of you on George’s bed. It’s not a perfect fit, but none of you mind the close contact, not wanting to be away from each other for even a second, whispering sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep, thoroughly fucked and completely cherished. 

“You’re not giving me commands every time. Just so that you know, this time was a fluke. A one-time thing,” Fred whispers to George over your head, his fingers brushing soothingly over the soft skin on your thighs, a small smirk on his face. 

George scoffs a quiet laugh, rolling his eyes as he continues to brush his fingers through your hair. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Freddie.”

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[allthesmutl0vers]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ɢʀʏꜰꜰɪɴᴅᴏʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚. 🂼 Losing Game. | pt 2

Short Summary: Tom tells you to meet him in the Potions classroom—something quite unusual on a Friday evening, especially the day you get to know you lost the second bet as well…

Warnings: 18+ only! impact play, fingering, slight choking, unprotected p in v, praise, cum play, creampie

A/N: I should have studied instead of writing this. I didn’t. I need Tom to make bets with me next.

wordcount: 2,0k

read part 1 before! <3

You should know it is not just another ordinary tutoring lesson. Not at 8pm on a Friday. Not in the potions classroom he claims to have the right to use as a head boy. Especially not on the day you got your exam results back—the one you should have outscored him on—but, again, didn’t.

The truth is, you didn’t intend to. Didn’t even try.

Not because you didn’t want to—by any means, even now that your relationship has improved, you would still gladly take any chance to humble him.

But what he had told you—what he’d want from you in case you lost again—stuck with you. The tone of his voice, the smug expression on his face—the one that, since childhood, has made you want to wrap your hands around his throat—sends your mind spiraling. Keeping you up at night, having you press your thighs together as his words replay in your head.

If I outscore you tomorrow, I get to fuck you—properly.

Thoughts you never expected you’d have played in your mind—not about him. Not about Tom Riddle, the person you are supposed to despise.

So, naturally, when he tells you to meet him that evening, not in the library like usual but in the Potions classroom—you can’t help but think.

Assume.

Expect.

You get ready. Scrambling through your drawer until something catches your attention—a matching set of lace underwear. You contemplate. If this is just another tutoring session, you’ll feel pathetic, but if it’s not…

You decide to put it on.

It’s already dark when you leave your dorm. One hour before curfew means most people are in their respective dormitories, allowing you to reach the classroom without being seen. A flicker of hesitation forms in your chest when your hand touches the cool metal of the door handle, but after a second, you push it down and step inside.

Your eyes scan the place as you walk further into the only faintly illuminated place, but there is no sign of him. Cauldrons and open textbooks on one of the desks are the only things that catch your attention, and you assume it might just be another ordinary tutoring session after all—

“Delusional, you said?”

You shriek as his words cut through the silence, turning around to face him, but you don’t get the chance to respond. His lips are on yours just a split second later, stealing your breath away while his hands make quick work of your robes, carelessly dropping the freshly washed fabric to the floor. You make a low sound of disapproval at that, but he doesn’t stop, fingers now hastily working at the buttons of your blouse—never breaking the kiss.

He wants you bare in front of him, no, needs to finally see what you have been hiding from him until now, feel your gorgeous curves without the barrier of clothes. To mark you as his.

Tonight he would finally get to touch you properly, not like the first time he had you on your knees in here, not like the countless times he had you pressed up against bookshelves in the library during your tutoring lessons since then, kissing down your neck like a man starved.

A cool breeze sends a shiver down your spine as the last piece of fabric falls to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your underwear—and by then he must have realised, because he just stares at you for a short moment, eyes wandering over your exposed skin with the same spark in them as he had at the party.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Tom muses, his thumb tracing along the waistband of the lace adorning your hips. “You lost on purpose,” he adds, fingers tilting your chin upwards so you are forced to meet his gaze. “so I’d fuck you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up—because deep down you know he is right, and that you shouldn’t have underestimated how quickly he’d find out about it. Still, you refused to admit it, shaking your head.

“No, I—“

Slap.

Before you can even finish your sentence, his palm comes down on the side of your face, not hard enough to hurt, merely leaving a slight sting that feels, if anything, more pleasant than painful. Only when his hand caresses over the spot he has just struck do you look back up at him, darkened eyes staring down into yours.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Before you know it, his hand is wrapped around your upper arm, dragging you towards the middle of the classroom, bending you over one of the desks so your upper body is flush against the cool wood.

Your breath catches as he nudges your legs apart with his knee, fingertips brushing over your inner thighs, slowly travelling up until he reaches the damp fabric of your panties. Tom’s second hand presses down between your shoulder blades, making sure you stay exactly where he wants you as his fingers slip beneath the lace, pushing the material to the side. He huffs at the sight of your cunt, already glistening with arousal, not yet touching you—but thinking of how he will ruin you tonight.

“Tom—“ you whimper weakly, instinctively trying to close your legs at how exposed you feel, bent over in front of him as his palm brushes over your cunt, feeling your need for him. But he doesn’t allow it—his leg stays firmly between yours, keeping you spread open for him.

“Too late to be shy now, sweetheart.” He mocks, fingers slipping between your folds, gathering your arousal as he trails lower, teasingly circling your entrance before he pushes inside, drawing soft moans and gasps from you. He knows just how to curl them to have your back arch, working you open, preparing you for him.

“So wet for me already. Been thinking about this the entire day, haven’t you?” He drawls, withdrawing his fingers before he brings them to your mouth, fingertips pressing against your lips as he asks you to part them for him. “Taste yourself. Taste your shame.”

Reluctantly you obey his command, allowing him inside until you feel him press against your tongue, tasting yourself on his skin. He waits for you to pull back, to tell him he’s ridiculous like you have done so many times—but it never comes, instead, you swirl your tongue around his fingers, cleaning yourself off him just like he told you to.

And that’s when he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

The next thing you hear is his belt dropping to the floor with a thud, and you turn your head to watch him undo the zipper of his trousers, meeting his eyes—eyes that shine with a dark hint of satisfaction. His fingers then travel down your spine with the faintest touch, tugging at the waistband of your panties until they too fall to the ground, left to pool at your ankles.

And then, you feel him. Pressing against you before his tip slips between your folds, coating himself in your slick, faintly brushing over your swollen clit—teasing you, testing your restraint even as you try to buck your hips against him, chasing any friction you can find.

He wants you, needs you just like he knows you need him—but he craves to hear you beg for him, he longs for you to finally shatter and submit to him.

“You think you deserve it yet? Beg for it, beg for me to give you what you want.”

“Fuck you, Riddle.”

A harsh slap on the curve of your ass sends your body jolting forward as far as the wood beneath you allows you to. “And here I thought we were over that name.”

“Tom— fuck, please. Please, I want to feel you,” you whine, too lost in the ecstasy of his touch to complain. His fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back as he leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your skin.

“Again.”

You are aware he is toying with you, shamelessly using the position he has you in to prove his point—prove that he is in power. And yet—

“Merlin, Tom— please.”

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes, allowing you to rest your head on the desk as he aligns himself with your slick entrance, hands finding a firm grip on your hips, which you know will leave bruises for you to remind you of him—his touch. You feel him pushing past your resistance then, splitting you apart around him with the most blissful sting.

He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, burying himself to the hilt with one sharp, calculated thrust that has you cry out, knuckles turning white from how hard you are holding onto the edge of the desk.

And when his hips are flush with yours, feeling how tight and warm you feel, wrapped around his length so perfectly, a low groan spills over his lips, grip on your hips tightening as if he wanted to stay there forever.

Only when you manage a soft, desperate “please” does he finally move, torturously slowly pulling out of you, letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock before snapping his hips forwards, burying himself deep once more.

“So greedy.” Tom growls, giving you one more teasing roll of his hips, enough to make you whimper before he sets a steady rhythm, pulling you back against him with every thrust. “Who would have known.”

Your walls clench tightly around his length as he repeatedly brushes against your most sensitive spot, one of his hands wandering underneath you, finding your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bud.

Your whimpers and moans only spur him on, seeing how your legs tremble. His hips snap against yours mercilessly—almost as if he had a point to prove.

“Feel you clenching around me,” he rasps, hand leaving your clit to wrap around your throat softly, tilting your head backwards. “Come for me. Make a mess, sweetheart.”

It’s the nickname that has you finally tumble over the edge, his name falling over your lips like a prayer as you do, the coil in your lower stomach finally snapping. Your walls eagerly pulse around his cock, drawing a muffled groan from the brunette behind you, his fingertips digging into your flesh at the added sensation.

He fucks you through your orgasm and its aftershocks, never letting up his pace until your body goes limp on the desk, soon spilling himself deep inside of your cunt, painting your walls white with his warm release.

Tom’s chest rises and falls with every deep breath he takes, leaning over you.

“Okay?” He whispers, wiping a strand of hair from your face, pressing a kiss just below your ear.

“Okay.” You reply weakly, thighs trembling, his cock still buried within you. A satisfied grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, placing another kiss on your shoulder before he gently pulls out of you.

A soft whimper falls over your lips as he leaves you empty, hearing him get dressed as you lay boneless on the rough wooden surface. He returns to your side afterwards, his hand tenderly running up your inner thigh.

“Look at you,” he purrs, “so pretty with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

Normally you’d complain, run your mouth, but now—you just hum in agreement, too exhausted to find a snarky comeback.

He laughs softly at your state, two of his fingers gathering his release, pushing it back inside of your sensitive walls. “Can’t let anything go to waste, can we?”

Tom helps you up then, steadying you when your knees are about to give in. Handing you your clothes, he lets you put them on, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“From now on, no more bets. You are mine.”

And when you wake up in his bed the next day, his arm protectively wrapped around your waist—you know he wasn’t lying.

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is as always appreciated <33

[allthesmutl0vers]

Whispered Confessions and Potential Arson

Fred and George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Request from this anon request

CW NSFW, Established Fred/Reader relationship, pining!George, unprotected p! in v!, creampie, dom/sub relationship, switch!Fred, spanking, God kink (like one line) light bondage (cuffs), sub!reader, dom!twins, alcohol consumption, implied aftercare, poly!relationship, praise, degradation, breeding kink if you squint, oral (m! and f! giving/receiving), anal, double-penetration, is it really twincest if no sword-crossing, fingering, fireworks and other Weasley twin shenanigans

WC 5.6k

Music Inspo

15 Minutes - Sabrina Carpenter (requested)

Make Your Move - The Relapse Symphony (I get the feeling George would like them)

a.n I kinda got carried away with this one so its a little long. hope that's okay. part 2 maybe? 🥹🖤

H.P/Slytherin M.list H.P/Slytherin Taglist Requests/Asks: OPEN

Dating Fred was easy. For the most part, at least. Sure, you had to deal with him landing himself into detention with his twin brother or his friends sometimes, but that was nothing in comparison to how he made you feel.

Every touch lighting a fire deep inside of you that craved nothing more than to let him devour you until there was nothing left. The way his large and calloused hands delicately guide you through the busy corridors between classes, brushing just against your lower back like he's afraid to break you.

The same hands that wrap around your wrists like a vise, pinning you either on your back or with your face buried in his pillow, crying out his name as he drives into you relentlessly, making your breath catch in your chest with every deep thrust.

So, yes. The occasional detention is a small price to pay for Fred to be yours.

What you didn't know, however, is that Fred's twin brother and your best friend, George, has been watching everything from the sidelines. Wanting nothing more than to feel your lips against his just once. To run his equally large, slightly softer hands up your sides the way his twin gets to, to feel the touch of your delicate skin under his fingers just once.

Fred knows about this, of course. And while he was initially angry with his brother, he couldn't help but understand. I mean, you're the most perfect girl in the world. How could his brother not fall for you? And he'd be lying if the thought of sharing you with the person he trusts the most, hasn't crossed his mind a few times since finding out. To see just how far those pretty little limits of yours can be tested.

Safely, of course.

All of these things coupled together, along with the fact that Fred landed himself in detention again, but with Lee Jordan this time, is what set the ball in motion for what your grandchildren will call either the greatest love story ever heard, or the most heart-shattering tragedy.

With a war on the horizon, it's anyone's guess. Which is why we have to cherish the time to fuck, that we have left. Or whatever the philosophers say.

The common room is warm, and the fire crackling in the fireplace casts a warm glow on the near-empty room. Most students have gone to bed or snuck out for the night. The book sitting on your lap is a comfortable weight, completely capturing your attention even as the couch dips next to you.

"Hello, gorgeous."

George's voice manages to break your focus, drawing your gaze up to his, his lips curled into a cheeky grin that is almost identical to Fred's, George's lips seemingly a little more red, surely from all of the cinnamon candy he eats, probably tasting the same, too. Not that you've ever thought about it, though.

"Hey, Georgie. What's up?" Your naturally warm and kind voice hits his ears. The way your eyes look up into his forces him to swallow, masking any of his feelings for you with a grin and a laugh.

"Oh, just thought I'd keep my brother's girl company," he responds, his voice filled with its usual charm and wit, but there's the faintest lingering feeling that you can't name behind his words, almost as if he's reminding himself that you're not his. Which would be crazy, right?

You nod your head, dismissing any thoughts about him that aren't simply friendly, which has become increasingly harder, and has caused a pit of guilt to start to carve deep inside of you.

"That's really kind of you, I appreciate it. What did you have in mind?" You thank Godric for your voice coming out even as you turn your attention to him.

George watches as you close your book, your delicate fingers wrapping around it as you lean forward to set it on the coffee table in front of you. Sitting back in his seat on the sofa, unable to help but let his eyes roam over your slender figure once before clearing his throat and running his fingers through his red hair.

"Y'know, me and Fred have been working on some new fireworks. Thinkin' about making a different set for each of the houses to put on their own displays," he responds. The sparkle of mischief growing in his brown eyes, his voice smooth and warmly charming.

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you playfully roll your eyes. "As if you two need to be doing anything else with gunpowder. You're going to burn down the school one of these days, mark my words."

The laugh that rumbles from his chest shouldn't make your heart flutter, but it does. The warm and rich sound, which reminds you so much of your boyfriend but is so different at the same time, makes your head spin, and that pit of guilt carves deeper.

"C'mon, that'll be Seamus and we all know it," he responds, nudging your arm with his elbow and sending a shiver down your spine when it most certainly shouldn't. "I promise, it'll be fun. Besides, I think Fred and Lee have at least another hour."

The way your eyebrows knit together in concentration, weighing the options in your mind, makes his cock twitch to life in his jeans, the hardening muscle straining more against the fabric the longer you look at him like that---so fuckable.

"Okay. I suppose we can go, so long as we're back by the time Freddie comes back."

George forces himself to tear his gaze away from yours, focusing on anything else as he tries to level out his breathing. A faint blush rises on the back of his neck, which is barely covered by his red hair. 

“Great. Let’s get going. I know the perfect spot to light them off. " He pushes himself off the couch, waiting for you to follow him out of the common room and through the chilly, moonlit corridors.

“You’re going to get us into trouble, you ass,” your carefree laugh carries through the night air as the next firework explodes high in the sky. A beautiful array of red and gold sparks shining even brighter than the stars, taking the form of a roaring lion’s head before dispersing into shining flecks. “But you’re bloody brilliant. I’ll give you that.”

George’s chest swells with pride. He smiles wide and dazzlingly as he walks closer to you, holding a shot glass of Firewhiskey. “Ah, I aim to please, darling. " His voice comes out low, bordering on flirtation. His fingers brush against yours when you take the glass, and his deep brown eyes lock down on yours in a gaze that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

“Especially when it comes to you,” he adds, his voice low and slightly strained as if he’s physically holding himself back. He takes another step closer to you, his towering and broad frame barely a foot apart from your smaller frame, further closing the gap between your bodies, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. Too close, but for some reason you can’t pull away. 

You take the shot of Firewhiskey, the smooth cinnamon whiskey burning your throat in a desperate attempt to focus on anything else besides your boyfriend’s twin brother looking down at you with an expression that borders on reverent longing and desperate hunger. 

“George, I—”

“I love you.”

His confession spills from his lips before he can stop them, his heart hammering against his sternum at the sight of your eyes widening, looking as if a stunning spell has struck you. The subtle hitch in your chest, and the way you look up at him in a mix of confusion and surprise makes him want to kick himself for confessing his love so abruptly, having surprised even himself. He and Fred had talked at length about how to approach the subject of his feelings for you, and this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. 

But damn him, he can’t bring himself to regret it for even a second.

“Well, well. What have we got here? Finally confessed, eh, Georgie?” 

Fred.

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice behind you snaps you back to reality, making your stomach drop when you notice George’s towering frame is somehow now mere inches from yours, your face slightly angled up towards his. You can’t process Fred’s words right away, the shotglass slipping from your fingers and landing with a soft thud on the grass at your feet, hurriedly taking a few steps away from George to put some distance between you both despite already having been seen by Fred.

“Freddie, I can explain,” you rush to respond, scrambling your brain for any excuse or reason why you were so close to his twin brother. 

Fred’s eyebrow arches slightly, a small smirk tugging on the corner of his lips, taking a step closer to you. “Mm. Is that so, love? Well, by all means, explain,” his voice takes on a slightly teasing tone, not harsh but rather amused, challenging you to come up with an excuse, his eyes raking across your flustered face and reddening cheeks. He’s always thought you were most attractive when you’re flustered, coupled with the fact you’re not outwardly denying your attraction and proximity to his twin brother, make him want nothing more than to take you right here, right now. 

But he’s patient. They’ve been waiting for this moment for months now, and he’s not about to rush it. 

And neither is George. Who takes a few steps toward his twin brother, turning to face you with him, an equally amused and mischievous smirk on his lips, the tip of his tongue slowly darting out to wet his lips, capturing your attention before you force yourself to focus on Fred again, clearing your throat softly.

“We came out here so George could show me your guys’ new fireworks,” you start, your slender hands trembling softly at your sides with nerves. Have you ruined everything? Fred’s tone is playful and teasing, but there’s something else to it, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Go on,” Fred responds, George and him each taking a step closer to you, his tone low and husky. 

“And don’t leave anything out, gorgeous,” George adds, his fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach out and pull you close.

Are they… into this? 

You nervously pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your cheeks heating up even further, looking down at the grass under your feet. “Then we were just drinking and talking…” your voice trails off as guilt and desire swirl deep inside of the pit in your stomach. 

Two long fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to look up at them both once again, both of them now towering directly in front of you. Fred’s thumb gently swipes across your bottom lip. “Ah, ah. You’re forgetting one little detail, baby. Wouldn’t you agree, Georgie?” 

George tilts his head to the side, a sly smirk pulling on his lips as he looks down at you. His brown eyes burning with restrained hunger. “Oh I do, Freddie,” George chuckles huskily, one of his hands reaching up, his fingers brushing against your cheeks next to Fred’s under your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. “I believe she is forgetting how close we were standing,” he leans down, his face mere inches from yours just like it was before. 

“Right after I told her I loved her.” 

Merlin, the way they talk about you like you’re not even there fuels the fire of desire inside of you, pushing out more of the guilt until there’s only a sliver left, just enough to make you nervous as you decide to take a risk.

“Maybe I just forgot,” your voice comes out flirtatious, a hint of nervousness behind it that makes you look even more desirable as you try to hide it with a smile, but the way your gaze flickers to Fred’s as if searching for reassurance is a dead giveaway.

Fred’s fingers slide down your chin, resting around your smooth and slender throat, just hard enough to remind you who is in charge. A low, rumbling chuckle coming from their throats as George pulls back and Fred’s face takes his place in front of yours, leaning down just enough for his lips to brush against yours in a whisper of a kiss. 

“I highly doubt that, baby. You were going to kiss him, weren’t you?” His tone neither questioning nor accusatory, but rather amused and husky with desire. His fingers wrapped around your throat tighten just enough for you to feel the pressure from the pads of his fingers. “You were going to kiss my twin brother whilst I was in detention, eh?”

Your gaze flickers to George, shame and arousal washing over you as you nod your head, looking back at Fred again. “Would you be mad if I did?” You challenge, your soft voice making your throat vibrate under Fred’s fingers. The slight teasing in your tone going right to both of their cocks already straining against the fabic of their jeans. 

Fred leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear and his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“I would be mad I missed it,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers tightening even further around your throat for just a moment before he lets go completely. Smirking at the small hitch in your breathing as he pulls back, looking down at you as he drags his lower lip between his teeth. “Now, be a good girl f’me and do it, eh?”

You barely have time to process his words before George takes his place in front of you, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing against your soft lips, the ones he’s been dreaming about kissing for as long as he can remember. His brown irises barely visible around his desire-blown pupils.

“I’ma kiss you now, sweet girl. That a’right with you?” The sweetness in his tone contradicts the dark desire swirling in his eyes, making your heart flutter and your head swim, nodding your head softly, the warm, smoky scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket. 

George lowers his head slightly, teasingly hovering his lips just above yours, his eyes roaming your flushed face before landing on your slightly-parted lips. “Use your words,” he growls, eyes never leaving your lips, wanting to watch you speak the words he’s desperate to hear.

“Yes, it’s alright with me,” your voice comes out a little more rushed than intended, shifting slightly on your feet in anticipation. You’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the lust and longing that you no longer have to hide coursing through your veins.

“That’s our good girl,” Fred murmurs from behind you, his large hands sliding down your sides, his chest brushing against your back, effectively pinning you between them. 

George’s hand snakes behind your head, his fingers running through the long hair at the nape of your neck, his eyes finally locking on to yours again as he finally closes the distance between you.

Cinnamon. You were right. His lips taste like cinnamon with the faintest hint of the Firewhiskey you shared earlier while watching the fireworks. A whole new kind of explosion erupting inside of you as his tongue softly traces the seam of your lips, and of course you part them, allowing his tongue to glide against and tease yours. 

A soft moan is dragged from your lips as Fred’s hands travel down to your thighs over your skirt, squeezing the plush flesh, and you can feel the hardness of their cocks against your lower stomach and back. Brain filled with nothing but every dirty thing you want them to do to you.

“Fuck…” George groans softly against your lips before pulling back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We need to go,” he adds roughly, looking up at his twin over your shoulder, fingers tightening ever-so-slightly in the strands of your hair. 

“Now.”

“You and that muggle music of yours, I swear,” Fred chuckles huskily, listening to you hum the lyrics to ‘15 Minutes’ on the brisk walk back to the Gryffindor common room, his grip on your waist tightening.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, a faint blush painting your cheeks. “It’s a good song,” you respond, trying your best to sound innocent when the lyrics are anything but. “Besides, it’s not wrong,” you add, squeezing George’s hand you're holding. “I can do a lot in fifteen minutes. And I won’t need two to make you finish.”

George’s jaw ticks with frustration, his hand squeezing yours back, his grip firm but not painful. “Is that a challenge, little minx?” He asks gruffly, their pace quickening as the common room comes into view.

“What happened to sweet girl?” You can’t help but tease, raising an eyebrow playfully at him as Fred says the password for you three to enter. 

“Sweet girls only get called sweet when they behave accordingly,” his hand lands on your ass in a sharp slap, making you gasp and blush redder than a tomato as you step into the common room.

Fred laughs lowly as he slings his arm around your shoulders, both of them casually guiding you to their dorm room, ignoring the whispers and curious looks from your housemates. “Oh yeah, spanking her ass gets her all riled up. Don’t it, baby?” He teases looking down at you with a wink.

The door to their room closes with a soft click of the lock. The familiar and comfortable surroundings of their dormitory and the privacy make it easy to relax. “Maybe so. But that doesn’t mean I can’t rile you up just as much,” you tease back, looking up at them as your fingers trail down your chest, teasing the buttons of your shirt. “And yes. It is a challenge,” you finally respond to George’s question. 

Their eyes follow the path of your fingers and you notice the subtle differences between them when they're aroused. 

Fred, you already know, gets more teasing. Frustratingly using his wit in a way that makes you want to both slap him and drop to your knees for him at the same time. His breathing is heavier and slightly ragged.

George, on the other hand, seems to become more firm, even dominant. His quick retorts and commands flow from him with a natural ease, making every order impossible not to obey. His breathing is shallow and controlled. 

George takes a step closer, Fred leaning back against his wall with a smirk as he bites his bottom lip. 

“Well, we never turn down a challenge. Fred, start a timer,” he responds, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling out one of their desk chairs and taking a seat facing you. 

“Two minutes each?” Fred asks from somewhere behind you, and you swear you can hear the shit eating grin on his face. 

George never takes his eyes off yours, beckoning you closer with a curled finger, and the tip of his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip in a way that makes your breathing stutter. 

“Nah. She said she doesn’t need it, remember?” He responds to his twin, his eyes roaming your body hungrily as you stand between his legs. “On your knees, sweet girl. Lemme see you put those pretty lips to use, eh?” He swipes his thumb across your lips as you sink to your knees between his long legs. Parting them to respond when he cuts you off. 

“Ah, ah. Timer’s already started, baby. Better get to work.”

If your hands weren’t already preoccupied with unbuckling and unzipping George’s jeans, and if they weren’t so damn tall, you’d reach behind you and slap your boyfriend. Or take his cock in your hand too, you wouldn’t be opposed to that. 

George’s control slips for just a moment as you take his long and thick shaft into your hand, the tip red and leaking with precum. You can see it in the way he sucks in a short breath, a low groan escaping his lips when you lick the slit on the head of his cock, the sound only heightening your arousal.

What is it about men being vocal that is so hot?

When your tongue licks a slow, long swipe up the underside of his shaft, it takes everything inside of him not to cum right on your face. The way your eyes are blown wide with enthusiasm and arousal, the way your pupils dilate when he runs his fingers through your hair, gathering it into a pony behind your head. Because God forbid something prevent him from seeing every inch of your face when you finally take his cock into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he moans gruffly, bucking his hips up into your mouth as your lips stretch around his shaft, the head of his cock hitting the spongy back of your throat, listening to the soft gag that follows. “So damn beautiful.”

Fred can see the way your body reacts to his twin’s praise. The way your body shudders ever-so-slightly at being called beautiful while you take every inch of George’s cock that he gives you. The way you try to rub your thighs together under your skirt, no doubt having soaked through your panties already. 

“And already soaked through those fuckin’ panties too, eh, baby?” Fred palm his aching cock over his boxers, his jeans and shirt already long forgotten, his teasing eliciting a moan from you that makes George grip your hair tighter and moan again from the vibration of your moan and the way your head bobs faster.

By now, Fred would have had you face down, ass up on his bed, pile driving into you until you scream. But the way his twin takes his time with you, not rushing even though you’re on a timer, only adds to the fire burning deep inside of him. Not a jealous fire, but a primal, almost animalistic fire. He’s never watched you with someone else before, but Godric help him, the way you suck his twin’s cock is almost enough to make him smash the damn timer on the ground and say fuck it. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, he continues to watch. The act is surprisingly thrilling to him, making him kind of wish he was being forced to watch, rather than doing it willingly. 

And George wouldn’t be George if he didn’t know his twin like the back of his hand.

“Grab the cuffs out of my nightstand. One wrist attached to the bedframe,” his twin’s husky but controlled voice snaps him back to reality, his movements staggering slightly as he follows the command.

“Fuck, look at him, sweet girl,” George purrs, pulling your head off of his cock with a wet pop, turning your head to look at Fred with those puffy lips still connected to his twin’s cock by a strand of saliva and precum. “Got’m lookin’ all pathetic and tied up while you’re suckin’ my cock.” 

Well fuck. That shouldn’t make him as hard as it does. 

Nor should it make him whimper, but he does anyway. Sounding just as pathetic as George is making him out to be. 

“You like watching, Freddie?” Your sweet and slightly hoarse voice hits his ears, his eyes locked on your slender hand still stroking George’s cock. His cock bobbing against the fabric of his boxers under his free hand. 

“Yes. Keep going,” his usual witty tone lost in desperation to watch you continue, forced to sit back against the headboard of his bed, excitement and lust running through him like a live wire. 

George smirks, lifting you off of the flood with ease, laying you back on Fred’s bed, your head resting on the comforter beside his waist. “Don’t mind if I do,” George responds as he sheds the rest of his clothes, his large hands grabbing you from behind your knees and pulling you to the edge of the mattress, pulling a small gasp from your lips as he swiftly removes your skirt in one fluid motion. 

“George! This is a new shirt,” you gasp when his fingers rip open your white blouse, sending buttons flying around the room, seemingly having had enough of not feeling your skin under his fingers all to himself for the moment. 

“We’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, his large hands sliding up and down and grabbing your sides as if trying to carve every inch of you into his memory. “Fuck, we’ll buy you ones simply for us to tear off.” 

Your back arches, pressing up against his chest your legs wrapping around his waist, tilting your head back to meet Fred’s gaze, watching as he strokes his long and hard cock with his free hand, the other cuffed to the wooden headboard behind him. 

“That feel good baby?” Fred asks as George’s lips finally travel down to your soaked pussy. His lips wrapping around your puffy and needy clit and sucking in a way that has your hands flying to his head, fingers tugging at the soft red strands.

You nod your head dumbly, still looking up at Fred. “Mmhm, feels…so good,” you murmur, your breath coming out in short and heavy pants between moans and gasps of pleasure. “Oh God,” you moan louder when George pushes two fingers inside of your warm and wet entrance, your arousal coating his fingers before with drawing them, giving you a small slap against your slick folds, the sensation only heightening the pleasure coursing through your body, making your clit pulse with need. 

“Don’t bother crying out for him, little minx. He left the second you let me kiss you,” George warns from between your thighs, pressing feather-soft kisses along your folds before darting his tongue out to flick your clit again, swiping over the sensitive bud with precise licks and flicks that are meant to drive you right up to the edge, but not enough to let you fall over it. 

It’s only when your panting and shaking, begging him to let you cum, does he finally relent. Pulling back and licking your arousal from his lips. “With pleasure, sweet girl. Ride him,” he responds, nodding to his twin behind you, and you don’t need to be told twice.

“Oh fuck,” Fred moans, his muscles tightening as you sink onto his long and painfully hard cock. The warm and wet walls of your pussy wrapping around him and taking him deep, feeling even better after having been forced to watch, his free hand grabbing your waist so hard it’ll be sure to leave bruises. “Take this fuckin’ cuff off, George,” he adds in a groan as you start to ride him, barely able to focus on anything else except for the feeling of you fucking yourself on his cock. 

With a low chuckle, George removes the cuff from the headboard, Fred’s hand immediately finding the other side of your waist, holding you up as he thrusts into you, pulling moan after gutteral moan from those sweet fuckin’ lips of yours. “Yes, please…” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for, head swimming with arousal and unable to think of anything else besides Fred filling your pussy and the way the bed dips between Fred’s legs as George’s hands snake up your chest from behind, one hand rolling your nipple between his fingers and the other sliding up to your throat and forcing you to look up. 

“Please what, sweet girl? You want more?” George asks, his teeth nipping at your ear. “One cock just ain’t good ‘nough for you anymore, is it?” He continues as his fingers slide from your nipple to your clit as Fred continues to thrust up into you, his strokes slow and deep, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. “Answer me,” he gently slaps your clit to get your attention, making you gasp and shudder, Fred growling with warning and desire as you tighten around his cock.

“N—no, one isn’t enough anymore,” you whimper, too lost in the submissive and love-fueled headspace you’ve found yourself in to care how pathetic you sound. “I need more…so much more, please.” 

George kisses down your neck, his hands leaving your throat and pussy, making you whine at the loss before you hear a soft click of a cap opening behind you. “Ever had this little ass taken, sweet girl?” George asks, his voice low and husky with desire. 

You shake your head, your pussy fluttering around Fred and your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. “No, Georgie.” 

He growls from behind you, Fred holding you still as George slides his lubed fingers across your tight hole, not breaching the tight ring of muscle, but merely putting pressure on it, the new feeling making you stiffen on instinct. 

“Shh. Relax, baby. We’ll take good care of you,” Fred murmurs, pulling you down against his chest in a kiss, his hands sliding up and down the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You let your body relax as much as possible, Fred’s cock still buried deep inside of you, moaning against his lips as George’s finger finally breaches the tight ring of muscle. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna have to take it nice’n’slow with you, aren’t we?” George groans with pleasure, his long finger slowly sliding in and out of your tight hole, letting you adjust before he adds a second finger. 

The next thing you know, George is sliding his long and thick cock into your ass. You gasp and let out a guttural moan at feeling so completely full, nails digging into Fred’s shoulder as they both start to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first, but picking up speed and momentum as you adjust. 

“You’re a goddamn vision, baby. Takin’ us so fuckin’ good,” Fred groans his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your hips, his chest rising and falling with a mix of exertion and a primal need to continue fucking you into oblivion. 

You cry out in pain and pleasure as George lands a sharp slap to your ass, making you moan and your entire body shudder. “Such a perfect little slut for us. Look at those fuckin’ tears,” he growls, one hand tangled in your hair and forcing you to look up at him behind you, the other wrapped around your throat - not hard enough to cut off your air, but just enough to make your head feel light before relasing, mascara streaking down your cheeks, and those big eyes filled with tears of pleasure. “Stunning.”

“Please… I need to cum,” you whine between moans and gasps, the coil in your belly unbearably tight. “Fuck, I’ll do anything.” 

Fred and George instantly still, the silence only broken by the soft whimper of protest escaping your lips. 

“Anything, you say?” Fred’s lips curl into that same mischievous grin that he gets when he’s about to do something reckless. 

And damn if you weren’t willing to do whatever you needed to to relieve the pressure built up inside of you. “Damnit, Fred, yes. Anything,” you moan, rocking your hips back against their cocks inside of you, feeling their hands tighten on your hair and body. “Just please don’t stop, please just let me cum.”

“Bloody hell, that fucking begging,” George punctuates his groan with a hard thrust in your ass, making you cry out as they both start to thrust again. “Could listen to it all fuckin’ day. Gonna fill you up nice’n’full, ain’t we, Freddie?” 

Fred moans, his large cock twitching inside of your pussy. “Damn right we are. Make her walk around stuffed with our cum everywhere she goes,” he thrusts hard, matching George’s equally hard thrusts with his own and making you see stars. “You want that, baby?” 

“Yes, fuck, yes…I need it,” you mewl, high on the feeling of their cocks buried deep inside of you, thrusting with abandon. Sweat clings to your skin, the air heavy with the sound of moans, slapping skin, and the obscenely wet sounds of your dripping pussy and thouroughly lubed ass. 

“You can cum now, sweet girl. Give us all you’ve got,” George growls from behind you, his command sending you spiraling into Nirvana, crying out their names in a deperate prayer, the only thing tethering you to the Earth is their hands on your body and the feeling of them both spilling their hot, thick cum deep inside of your tight holes. Fred’s moans mixing with George’s grunts and groans as they ride you and themselves through your highs. 

After a long, hot shower, and a change into one of Fred’s shirts and a clean pair of George’s boxers, they lay down on either side of you on George’s bed. It’s not a perfect fit, but none of you mind the close contact, not wanting to be away from each other for even a second, whispering sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep, thoroughly fucked and completely cherished. 

“You’re not giving me commands every time. Just so that you know, this time was a fluke. A one-time thing,” Fred whispers to George over your head, his fingers brushing soothingly over the soft skin on your thighs, a small smirk on his face. 

George scoffs a quiet laugh, rolling his eyes as he continues to brush his fingers through your hair. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Freddie.”

Taglist @joelmillerdilf @staley83 @k-kizkhalifa @lonely-isthe-muse @erika5373919882920

Comment on the taglist link to be tagged in future posts link

©️ I do not give my permission to copy, print, translate, or repost my work. - Elle's Cove (allthesmutl0vers)

[allthesmutl0vers]

This is coming today, I promise! I just need to compose myself enough to finish it bc aghhh these MEN 🫠🫣

But here is a little snippet

"Two long fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to look up at them both once again, both of them now towering directly in front of you. Fred’s thumb gently swipes across your bottom lip. “Ah, ah. You’re forgetting one little detail, baby. Wouldn’t you agree, Georgie?”"

hihihi!! i saw ur requests are open so I'll take the opportunity hehe.

so basically it's about fred weasley x fem!reader X george weasley. so basically a threesome and/or a poly relationship. I'll get straight to it— so basically the twins hear the reader humming a song that goes like "i can do a lot with fifteen minutes, only gonna take two to make you finish..." (15 minutes by sabrina carpenter wink wink) and the twins hear it and feel challenged. so they go through their way to prove reader wrong, and maybe they could challenge each other on who'll finish first xD

im new to tumblr so i don't know much what to say in an request other than the basics 🥹 but yeah, take your time if you ever pick this and i love your works especially how you write!! lots of love <3333 !!!!

Ooh okay! I'm actually in love with this, like hello? 🫠 We love Paris. 🙏🏻 Let me write this and I'll get back to you! (Also let me listen to the song because I haven't listened to any of her music before🫣)

Thank you so much for the request, love. You'll be able to find it >here< once I write it and link it. 🫶

You're so sweet 🥹 I'm so happy you enjoy my writing 💞 I promise I'll update more, and thank you for your patience love, I'm just getting back after being on-hiatus.

H.P/Slytherin M.list H.P/Slytherin Taglist Asks/Requests - OPEN

Taglist: @k-kizkhalifa @staley83 @joelmillerdilf @lonely-isthe-muse

[allthesmutl0vers]

What do we do when we have writer's block?

We obsessively change our entire blog theme, and learn how to code to make it pretty.

There is no other option.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[allthesmutl0vers]

hihihi!! i saw ur requests are open so I'll take the opportunity hehe.

so basically it's about fred weasley x fem!reader X george weasley. so basically a threesome and/or a poly relationship. I'll get straight to it— so basically the twins hear the reader humming a song that goes like "i can do a lot with fifteen minutes, only gonna take two to make you finish..." (15 minutes by sabrina carpenter wink wink) and the twins hear it and feel challenged. so they go through their way to prove reader wrong, and maybe they could challenge each other on who'll finish first xD

im new to tumblr so i don't know much what to say in an request other than the basics 🥹 but yeah, take your time if you ever pick this and i love your works especially how you write!! lots of love <3333 !!!!

Ooh okay! I'm actually in love with this, like hello? 🫠 We love Paris. 🙏🏻 Let me write this and I'll get back to you! (Also let me listen to the song because I haven't listened to any of her music before🫣)

Thank you so much for the request, love. The link for it can be found >here< along with my H.P/Slytherin M.list linked below ����

You're so sweet 🥹 I'm so happy you enjoy my writing 💞 I promise I'll update more, and thank you for your patience love, I'm just getting back after being on-hiatus.

H.P/Slytherin M.list H.P/Slytherin Taglist Asks/Requests - OPEN

Taglist: @k-kizkhalifa @staley83 @joelmillerdilf @lonely-isthe-muse

[allthesmutl0vers]

From the Ashes

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader x Regulus Black

Part One

Prologue Summary/Moodboard H.P/Slytherin M.list H.P/Slytherin Taglist Asks/Requests

Requests/Asks: OPEN

CW: Mentions of death and war, on-page character death(kinda), body disposal, survivor's guilt, insomnia, drinking, Google translated French, DeathEater!Mattheo and DeathEater!Regulus is its own trigger warning, let's be honest.

Part One

~ Y/n ~

One Year Later

“Are you sure you’re ready to be back, Ms. Waters? Nobody would blame you if you wanted to take another year. Or perhaps we should revisit the idea of learning from home?”

I shift my gaze from the fireplace to Headmistress McGonagall, standing by her desk with a sympathetic expression that makes a ball form in my throat. “I’m sure, Headmistress,” I clear my throat and steady my voice. “I want to be here. I should be here.”

McGonagall sighs softly, thankfully not fighting me on the subject of my return to Hogwarts again. “Alright then, if this is really what you want,” she takes a step closer to me, her hands clasped in front of her waist.

“I want you to know that I understand why you did what you did. " Her tone softens even further as if she is sharing a secret. 

My eyes snap back up to hers as that damn ball forms in my throat again. “I got people killed, Minerva,” my tone comes across as more ashamed than I would prefer to show. McGonagall’s first name slips from my lips on accident; I guess that was bound to happen at some point. Having been through a literal war together. 

“You did no such thing,” her voice stiffens, sounding just like a professor again, her eyes narrowing as if she is about to give me a lifelong detention. “You did what you did because you care. Not because you wanted to get people hurt. That blame falls on Voldemort and those who willingly followed him.”

I will myself to believe what she is saying, having repeated the same thing to myself time and time again, night after night. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

McGonagall steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I can understand that. As I’m sure a lot of people could, all of them probably feeling the same way you do right now. That people died because they didn’t do something different,” her fingers gently squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring gesture. 

“That doesn’t make it true. You did what you felt was best, and who knows? Maybe you saved even more people in the process; best to look at the glass half-full in these times, dear.”

Her hand drops from my shoulder, and she straightens up. “Now, why don’t we head down to the Great Hall? The other students should be arriving soon. Have you decided whether or not you want to be sorted again?” 

“No, I’m not going to be sorted again,” I say as I follow McGonagall out of her office and down the empty corridor. I was sorted into Slytherin, and I want to stay there." My tone is more steady than I thought it would be, and I thank whatever God there is for it.

The silence that follows my response only lasts a few moments; the only sound filling it is our shoes against the stone floor before she finally speaks. “You realize some of the returning students in Slytherin may try to cause trouble, given that you didn’t take Voldemort’s side. They might hold a grudge.”

I barely blink as I listen to her response. Used to people thinking that Slytherins view the world just one way. Black and white, good and evil, all of that. I expect some students to feel that way, those who followed him willingly. But as far as I know, those who willingly followed him are either still in Azkaban, dead, or otherwise dropped off the face of the Earth. 

But there is a nagging question in the back of my mind, one I’ve never asked before. Whether it’s because I didn’t want to hear the bad answer or because I didn’t know how to face the alternative is still unclear to me.

“Are they coming back?”

~ Mattheo ~

The blood on my hands makes it hard to get a good grip on the fucker’s jacket as I drag him to the shallow grave where he will rot in the ground. This place is too good for him, too clean. But fuck it, what are you going to do?

“Just can’t help making a mess, can you?” Regulus raises an eyebrow as he watches me drag this fucker across the forest floor. The not-so-subtle mocking tone in his voice makes my fucking eye twitch.

I drop the fucker’s arms and stand up straight, my breathing heavy with exertion. “You could fuckin’ help, you know,” my words are clipped as I take a deep breath. “It’s not like I killed him myself.”

Regulus scoffs a dry laugh, pushing himself off of the tree he was leaning on, and brushes off his jacket. “True, you didn’t kill him. I did.”

This motherfucker. 

A low growl vibrates in my throat, warning him not to push me further, and he raises his hands in mock surrender as he grabs the dead asshole’s legs to help me dump him into his shallow grave. 

“Easy, tiger. You know I’m right,” he grunts as we drop the dead body in the grave, pulling out a handkerchief from his jacket to wipe his hands. “You just tortured him.”

“Not nearly enough,” I grit, pulling out a zippo lighter from my pocket. “He deserved worse than he got,” I place a joint between my lips and light it before tossing the lighter on the fucker’s dead body. “...especially for threatening her.”

I watch his jaw tick on the other side of the makeshift grave, the flames roaring and casting a glow in the night air. His eyes are down on the flames, on the dead body inside of the shallow grave.

“I know,” he finally breaks the silence that has built between us as I blow out the smoke from my joint, my hands and fingers still stained with blood. 

I ash the joint over the grave, the ash disappearing into the flames. “Do you think she’ll be there?”

He finally looks up, locking his eyes with mine, and I smirk when I see his eyes crack with a hint of vulnerability. “She better be,” he says, his eyes rising again to look behind me. I turn my head, following his gaze to the Hogwarts castle behind us. 

My fingers tighten around the joint, and my jaw clenches. The echo of my name on her lips is ingrained into my mind. The way she looked at us that day, surprised, a little shocked… but still y/n. Our y/n. The way that the dirt and blood caked her beautiful skin, a feral look in her eyes as she tried to reach us, and her voice hoarse from screaming all night during the battle.

Fucking beautiful.

And so damn vulnerable.

It’s another reason why we had to kill the Auror who ‘helped us transition.’ Which is really just the Ministry code for interrogating and torturing those of us who were technically still kids and weren’t sentenced to Azkaban.

How the two of us weren’t sentenced, I’ll never fucking know. Before the battle, we followed my father closely, his most trusted confidants, and killed without mercy. 

I can still remember the smell of his breath and the pain that would radiate throughout my face as his fist connected with my jaw. His threats to hurt y/n when nobody was around to listen made my blood boil every time. The fact that he was questioning her just for knowing us, for being our closest friend before the war…

Well, I got my pound of flesh. Several of them, in fact.

~ Regulus ~

If people avoided us before, they aren’t now. Their whispers follow Mattheo and me as we approach the castle gates, his hands now free of the blood from torturing that Auror, slicing through his body with the same calm brutality as they whipped ours with at the reintegration center.

But I don’t care because she is here somewhere in the sea of students. I didn’t lie when Mattheo asked me if I thought she would be here. I know she will. She has nowhere else to go. 

And I have nowhere else to be.

The castle lights glow against the night sky, and there are no bloodstains on the stone steps from the battle—it is almost as if it never happened. But just because you wash the ground and rebuild the walls, nothing will lift the lingering scent of death that clings to every molecule in the air.

Truthfully, I don’t want to be here, and neither does Mattheo, but it was either this or house arrest with another Auror teaching us. No fucking thank you. Besides, I’ve been away from mon chéri for too long already. (my dear)

“Black, Riddle. Long time, no see.”

My gaze snaps to the side, landing on Marcus Flint. 

Putain génial. (Fucking awesome)

He saunters up to me and Mattheo, a sly grin on his face that makes me want to bash his head against the stone wall he was leaning against. 

“Flint, I see they let you out of that cesspit,” Mattheo laughs from my side, his humor dry and sarcastic. “What made you decide to come back?”

Marcus looks off to the side, winking at a girl who can’t be older than a sixth year, making the urge to bash his head in seem even more tempting. “The ass, mate, why else?” Marcus’ gaze shifts back to us, a smirk on his face as he waits for us to agree with him.

“Ah, still the charmer, aren’t we?” My voice drips with condescension. Flint’s family all joined the Death Eaters willingly, but I was there when Marcus got his dark mark. I saw the hesitation in his eyes, the flicker of doubt that crossed them before he howled with pain at the spell that made him what he now pretends to be—one of us.

He blinks dumbly a few times before he laughs, patting my arm like we’re the best of friends. “You’re something else, Regulus, you know that?” He jokes, but his laughter dies, and he pulls his hand back the second he sees the danger in my eyes. “Yeah, well… I’ll see you guys around.”

“Save some bitches for the rest of us this year, eh, Riddle?” He turns his humor to Mattheo in one last attempt to rub elbows with people he doesn’t even deserve to look at. 

A cruel and charming smirk tugs at the corner of Mattheo’s lips, a look of mock amusement in his eyes. “Don’t count on it, Flint. But I might try to leave some of them interested,” his words are good-natured, but his tone is anything but—filled with the same sense of entitlement and ego that has followed Mattheo our whole lives. 

I scoff a chuckle and shake my head as we walk around Marcus, not waiting around to hear whatever fumbled response he musters up. 

A group of older students is formed around the entrance to the Great Hall, waiting to be re-sorted. I get it; war changes people and leaves marks that go deeper than physical wounds, but that’s no reason to run from your house. To abandon your family.

Or, what you have left of it, at least. 

~ Y/n ~

“Lost, Waters?” Millicent’s grating and nasilly voice grinds against my eardrums as I sit down at the Slytherin table. Her sickeningly sweet, vanilla perfume wafting through the air even four seats down. The sarcasm in her voice is unmistakeable and filled with venom.

Fitting. 

I let out a small huff of breath, turning my head away from her. “Good to see you too, Bulstrode,” my voice comes out surprisingly even and controlled, turning to look at her with a raised eyebrow in an attempt to look even more aloof. “Have a nice summer?”

Her jaw tightens, along with almost every other Slytherin at the table as if I just killed her cat that she drags with her everywhere. The entire table going eerily silent.

Weird. 

“Best not to talk about what you don’t know…princess.” 

My breath catches in my chest, his warm breath cascading down the back of my neck, a hint of smoke on his breath that overpowers Millicent’s sickening vanilla perfume. I’d know that voice anywhere. Low, rumbling, with a charming cockiness that makes you want to both kiss and slap him.

“Mattheo…” 

I barely breathe his name, turning my head to look up at him, Regulus standing beside him. "Regulus..." Their presence demanding respect like always, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in their gazes. Almost…vulnerability? As if they missed me as much as I missed them. The sight of them standing in front of me, bringing up a storm of emotions inside me.

The corner of Mattheo’s mouth tugs up in his signature cocky grin, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes. “The one and only. Miss us, princess?” His low and playful voice hits my ears again, bringing me back to myself. 

I clear my throat softly, my gaze flickering to Regulus and his calculating and reserved expression before looking back at Mattheo. “Yeah. It’s good to see you both,” my voice comes out more forced than I intended it to. I am happy to see them, but it’s not the same as before. 

Mattheo’s eyes narrow, his charming and aloof expression cracking slightly. Clearly not pleased with my lack of enthusiasm, but he masks it quickly with another charming smile. 

“Yeah. I can see you’re practically jumping out of your seat,” he responds, the tension and sarcasm in his voice evident as he sits down next to me, Regulus sitting down on my other side without a word, per usual. 

I stiffen in my seat, my fingers drumming against my thigh under the table over my robes. “Well, I’d ask what you guys have been up to, but apparently that’s a touchy subject,” my gaze flickers to Millicent again, who has gone back to her conversation with her friends. 

“Nobody is ready to talk about it, petite étoile. Best not to pry,” Regulus’ French accent comes out soft and silky, like a ribbon ready to wrap around me and pull me closer to him, drawing my gaze to his. The way his black hair falls in little curls down his forehead makes me want to push them back, to run my fingers through them like I used to. (little star)

I swallow and straighten up in my seat, forcing myself to look away only to find Mattheo still sitting on my other side, their bodies forming walls on either side of me, and I thank whatever God there is for the sorting and re-sorting ceremonies beginning. McGonagall’s stern voice calling the Great Hall to order and giving me an excuse to not respond as they get up from their seats on either side of me, and move further down the table when Draco Malfoy and Lorenzo Berkshire take their seats further down the table. 

“See you around, princess.”

Mattheo’s words linger in the air, playful, but with a lingering darkness. It’s not a question but a statement, as if nothing can keep them away from me. 

Not even me.

Part Two (In progress)

Taglist (link)

@k-kizkhalifa @staley83 @joelmillerdilf @lonely-isthe-muse

[allthesmutl0vers]

Out of curiosity.

Hypothetically. If I were to write a fic where Draco speaks a different language, and not because accents make me bark like a dog, which accent do you think would fit him best?

Slytherin/Harry Potter Masterlist

Slytherin/Harry Potter Taglist

Request/Asks

Taglist: @joelmillerdilf @staley83 @k-kizkhalifa @lonely-isthe-muse

[allthesmutl0vers]

Lurking for more stalker!mattheo like:

⊹ ࣪ ˖ introducing stalker!mattheo… ⊹ ࣪ ˖

stalker!mattheo… who places claim on you the moment he lays eyes on you. slowly falling deeper into his own madness and obsession as the days go on, vowing to never let you out of his grasp, even if you don’t even know that you’re in it yet.

"The world isn't ready to see who I would become if this-" his thumb pressed on her pounding pulse "— ever stops."

stalker!mattheo… who is violent beyond belief when it comes to you, willing to kill or hurt anyone who disrespects you in the slightest. keeping dark eyes on you at all moments of the day and night, in silent promises to keep you his own twisted version of “safe”…

“I want you to be mine. Selfishly, thoughtlessly, mine.”

stalker!mattheo… who would willingly do ungodly things for your eyes to grace him even for just a moment. basking in the glory that is your attention.

“I never craved attention, until i tasted yours.”

stalker!mattheo… who acts as calm as he possibly can when meeting you for the first time, flashing dashing smiles, and charming winks but giving away how twisted he truly is in his soul with how his eyes glimmer at you in such malicious ways that he doesn’t even realize himself.

“I can lose everything, but not you… Oh god, not you…”

[allthesmutl0vers]

SmutL0ver's Harry Potter - Slytherin Tag List

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Gen. M.list H.P/Slytherin M.list

(m.list links may not be available right away, I am still getting everything linked together)

I am not responsible for your media consumption.

a/n Marauders content coming! This is exclusively an 18+ blog.

Comment your username below to be added to the taglist for new posts!

If you only want to be added to Gryffindor or Slytherin content exclusively, just add that to your comment.

[allthesmutl0vers]

SmutLover's Harry Potter Masterlist

Includes Full Stories, One-Shots, and Headcanons

Requests/Asks: OPEN

Gen. M.list H.P/Slytherin Tag List

Reminder: I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the Trigger Warnings.

Slytherin Full-Stories

The Weight of Blood - Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott x Regulus Black x Draco Malfoy (Ongoing-Almost Complete) NSFW

From the Ashes - Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader x Regulus Black (Ongoing-Most Recent/Current Work) NSFW

Slytherin One-Shots/Headcanons

Draco Malfoy x Sick!Fem!Reader - Fluff

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader - NSFW

Gryffindor Full-Stories

Managing Mischief - Fred and George Weasley x Fem!Reader (Ongoing-On hiatus) NSFW

His Patronus Harry Potter x Reader (Coming Soon)

Gryffindor One-Shots/Headcanons

George Weasley x Fem!Reader - Fluff

Dating Fred and George Weasley Headcanons - NSFW

Weasley Twins x Fem!Reader - NSFW

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader - NSFW

Short skirt!Fem!Reader Harry Potter Headcanons - NSFW

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SmutL0ver's Supernatural Taglist

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Gen. M.list Supernatural M.list

(still getting all posts linked together, so m.list links may not be up right away)

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a/n more of my Supernatural works can be found here on Ao3. This is exclusively an 18+ blog.

Comment your username below to be added to the taglist for new Supernatural content.

My full stories are currently on hiatus, but I am still accepting one-shots, headcanons, asks, etc.

[allthesmutl0vers]

SmutL0ver's Supernatural Masterlist

Includes Full Stories, On-Shots, and Headcanons

Requests/Asks: OPEN

Gen. M.list Supernatural Tag List

(m.list may not be up right away, I am still getting everything linked together)

Reminder: I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the Content Warnings.

Supernatural Full Stories

Intentions - Sam x Fem!Reader x Dean x Castiel (Complete) NSFW

Break Me - Sam x Fem!Reader x Dean x Castiel (Coming soon-Complete) NSFW - Read on Ao3

Entirely Forbidden and Completely Fucked - Fem!Reader x Sam x Dean (Ongoing-On hiatus) NSFW

The Fate of Us - Fem!Reader x Sam x Castiel x Dean (Ongoing-On hiatus) NSFW

Supernatural One-Shots/Headcanons

Sam x Fem!Reader x Dean - NSFW