#wizards on drugs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yua0ra · 17 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬: 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

WARNINGS: unserious drabble of drugged!mattheo riddle x drugged!fem!reader, established relationship, underage drug use, nothing angsty or severe, just fun hallucinations, pet names, a bit of fluff in the end, playful banter, teasing. SFW, not proofread. english is not my first language.

miscellaneous ☆ and illegal lol

SUMMARY: Mattheo and you trip on hallucinogens.

WC: 3.9K AN: I definitely didn’t write this while being under the effects. highly recommend reading this while high. also, all my wizarding knowledge really comes out when i’m, ehm, in another world.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

It was supposed to be a quiet evening in the Room of Requirement—just you, Mattheo Riddle, and the kind of bad decisions that usually started with him smuggling in something “special,” to something that he said was to “expand your horizons.” Quiet was, of course, a relative term when Mattheo was involved.

“This,” Mattheo declared, holding up a bag of shimmering, powder-coated gummies, “is going to change your life, baby.”

“You mean ‘end my life,’” you said, eyeing the bag with suspicion. “What is that, anyway? Fizzing Whizbees’ shady cousin?”

“Behold,” Mattheo declared, holding the bag up like it was the Elder Wand. “Glowplum Gummies. Made from the juice of the rare Lumisfruit, grown exclusively in enchanted caves in the Alps.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure they’re not made in some dodgy Knockturn Alley backroom?”

“Please,” Mattheo scoffed. “Knockturn Alley wishes it had this level of sophistication. These are artisanal.”

“That word doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

“It means ‘cool and probably illegal,’” he said, shaking the bag. “Come on, live a little.” You crossed your arms. “Trust, this is the pinnacle of wizarding innovation.”

“The pinnacle of wizarding innovation is a bag of candy?”

“Don’t be a snob,” he said, shaking the bag so it caught the light. The gummies inside sparkled in an unnervingly magical way, as if they were tiny galaxies trapped in jelly. “These aren’t just any candies. They are enchanted with springwater, and probably a little bit of chaos.”

You peered into the bag. They smelled faintly of lavender and honey, with an undercurrent of something metallic, like the air before a storm.

“Probably? That doesn’t sound reassuring.” your tone already heavy with regret.

“They’re fine,” he insisted. “I’ve had them before.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better. Tell me, how many times have you ended up in the Hospital Wing because something was ‘fine’?”

“Not the point,” Mattheo said smoothly. “The point is, these will change your life. Temporarily, but still. It’s like… experiencing magic in HD.”

“Magic is already HD,” you pointed out.

“Alright, Captain Logic,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Just trust me, pretty girl. They’re harmless. Mostly.”

“Mostly’ is not a selling point, Riddle.”

But, of course, he popped one into his mouth anyway, chewing with a look of pure smugness. “See?” he said, his voice slightly muffled. “Completely fine.”

You eyed the bag, then him. “What do they taste like?”

“Like the best thing you’ve ever eaten, but also like nothing you’ve ever tasted. Very philosophical.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“Look,” he said, shoving the bag toward you, “just try one. If you don’t like it, I’ll… I don’t know, I’ll let you copy my Potions notes for a week.”

“That’s not much of a bribe.”

“Two weeks, then.”

You sighed, plucking a gummy from the bag and against your better judgment, you popped it into your mouth.

It fizzed immediately, like sherbet, but then the flavor shifted. First, it was sweet and floral, like candied violets dipped in honey.

Then it turned tangy, a sharp burst of citrus that made your tongue tingle. A cool, minty sensation followed, as though you’d just bitten into the winter wind, before it melted into a warm, spicy glow that spread through your chest. It was unlike anything you’d ever tasted—otherworldly, but somehow comforting.

“Okay,” you said reluctantly, “that was… good.”

“Right?” Mattheo grinned. “And now we wait.”

You swallowed, the last traces of the gummy’s warmth lingering in your chest like a cozy fireplace. “Wait for what, exactly? For me to spontaneously combust? Start speaking Parseltongue? What did you do to me, Mattheo?”

Mattheo grinned like a cat who’d just tipped over the milk jug. “You’ll see, gorgeous. It’s like waiting for fireworks—only better. Or worse. Depends on your mindset, really.”

“Comforting,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “You’re about as reassuring as Peeves with a slingshot.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he replied, lounging back against the desk. “But don’t worry. Nothing terrible happens the first time.”

You froze. “What do you mean, first time? What happened the last time you ate these?”

“Well,” he said, scratching his chin like he was reminiscing about a fond childhood memory. “Last time, I may have ended up in the Greenhouse having a very intense conversation with a Snargaluff.”

You gawked at him. “You had a chat with a man-eating plant, and you thought, ‘Yes, let me convince my girlfriend to try this too’?”

“To be fair,” Mattheo said, holding up a finger, “the Snargaluff was quite pleasant. Called me ‘chap.’ We really bonded.”

Before you could come up with a scathing reply, the floor suddenly rippled beneath your feet, like a stone tossed into water. You yelped, clutching the edge of a nearby table for balance.

“Uh, Mattheo?” you said, your voice rising in alarm. “Why is the floor moving?”

Mattheo’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s starting! This is the best part.”

The room shimmered like someone had sprinkled the air with powdered starlight. The walls seemed to stretch and yawn, like they were waking up after a long nap.

And then, just as you thought it couldn’t get weirder, the floor tiles beneath you began to rearrange themselves, sliding around to form a massive checkerboard.

“Please tell me this is just a bad dream,” you said, gripping the table tighter.

“Nah,” Mattheo said cheerfully, stepping onto one of the newly reconfigured tiles. “This is real life, baby. Or at least, as real as it gets on Glowplums.”

Suddenly, the tiles around Mattheo lit up like a disco floor, each one glowing a different color. He glanced down, then smirked. “Guess who just became the king of wizard chess?”

“King? More like court jester,” you shot back, trying to ignore the fact that the table you were holding onto had just grown a pair of eyes and was now blinking at you in mild confusion.

The table cleared its throat—yes, throat—and said in a prim, clipped voice, “Excuse me, but do you mind? You’re wrinkling my varnish.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your tone. “Should I move to a less sentient piece of furniture?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” the table sniffed. “Some of us have standards.”

Mattheo burst out laughing. “This is brilliant! You’re getting sass from a table.”

“And you’re about to get a hex to the face,” you retorted, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that your legs were wobbling like jelly. “Why didn’t you warn me this would turn the furniture into back-talking divas?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Besides, it’s not always furniture. Sometimes it’s fruit. One time, I argued with a particularly aggressive pineapple for twenty minutes.”

“I’m not surprised. You’d argue with a ghost if it looked at you wrong.”

“Only if the ghost started it,” he said with a wink.

Just then, the checkerboard floor shifted again, and one of the tiles beneath you began to rise, lifting you into the air like a podium. You let out an indignant squawk. “Mattheo, do something! I’m being abducted by Hogwarts’ interior design!”

Mattheo doubled over, howling with laughter. “Oh, this is amazing. You’re like the queen of the weirdest chess set ever.”

“I swear, if this tile tries to move me diagonally, I’m throwing you into the Black Lake.”

But before he could respond, a low rumbling sound filled the room. You both froze, glancing around.

“Uh… what was that?” you asked, your voice a mix of irritation and genuine fear.

Mattheo tilted his head. “Could be the cloud dragons.”

“Cloud what?”

As if on cue, a swarm of tiny, translucent dragons swooped down from the ceiling. They looked like they were made of mist, their wings glinting with faint rainbows. One of them sneezed, releasing a miniature lightning bolt that nearly singed Mattheo’s hair.

“Okay, nope,” you said, clinging to your podium-tile. “I am officially done.”

Mattheo, meanwhile, was staring at the dragons with the giddy expression of someone who’d just found a lifetime supply of Chocolate Frogs. “Oh, come on! Look at them—they’re adorable!”

“Adorable? They’re trying to electrocute us!”

“Not on purpose,” he said, ducking as another lightning bolt whizzed past. “Probably. They’re just a little… sneezy.”

You glared at him. “I’m never eating anything you give me again.”

“Sure you will,” he said with a grin, dodging another bolt. “You can’t resist my charm.”

“Charm? You’ve got the charm of a Blast-Ended Skrewt.”

“Hey, that’s unfair. Skrewts are lovable in their own way.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, my love” he said, grabbing a glowing tile and tossing it at one of the dragons like a Frisbee. “You’re having the time of your life.”

As much as you wanted to deny it, the ridiculousness of the situation was starting to chip away at your irritation. It was hard to stay mad when your boyfriend was swatting at cloud dragons with a glowing tile, grinning like a maniac. Or it could be the drugs. You shrugged your shoulders.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

“Deal,” Mattheo said, winking. “I can’t wait to follow me for the rest of your life, beautiful.”.

“Ugh.”

Chuckling he turns nodding. “Now, let’s negotiate with Harold. He’s the real boss around here.”

Harold. You turned to see a new arrival, waddling into the Room of Requirement like he owned the place.

He was… well, difficult to describe. Imagine if a penguin had collided headfirst with a pygmy Puffskein, and then someone had enchanted him with an extra dash of cosmic glitter for good measure. His sleek black-and-white body sparkled faintly, his tail shimmered like a comet, and his beady eyes glowed with unnerving intelligence.

You blinked. “Mattheo, what in Merlin’s name is that?”

Mattheo glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Oh, that’s Harold. He shows up sometimes when things get interesting.”

“Interesting?!” you sputtered. “What part of this situation made you think a glittery penguin-thing was normal?”

“Harold’s not just any glittery penguin-thing,” Mattheo said, feigning offense. “He’s like… I don’t know, the unofficial mascot of bad ideas.”

“Great. Just what we needed,” you muttered, watching Harold waddle over to the still-sulking armchair. The creature stared at it for a long moment, then let out a series of hoots that sounded vaguely like judgment.

“Uh, Harold?” Mattheo said, crouching down to meet the creature’s gaze. “Everything alright, buddy?”

Harold flicked his glittery tail and hooted again. Then, in a surprisingly posh voice, he said, “This chair is an affront to wizarding design.”

Your jaw dropped. “He talks?!”

“Of course I talk,” Harold said, his tone dripping with disdain. “Unlike you, I’m not an uncultured lump of magical chaos.”

“Hey!” Mattheo said, looking mildly offended. “I am extremely cultured.”

“You’re swinging glowing tiles at invisible dragons,” Harold replied. “Hardly the behavior of a sophisticated wizard.”

You snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. “He’s got you there, Matty.”

Mattheo threw you a mock glare. “Oh, sure. Take Harold’s side. Betray me for a penguin-Puffskein hybrid.”

“Can you blame me? He’s clearly the most sensible being in this room.”

Harold puffed up proudly, his glittery tail sparkling even brighter. “Thank you. At least someone here has taste.”

“Alright, Harold,” Mattheo said, crossing his arms. “If you’re so sophisticated, what exactly are you doing here?”

Harold tilted his head, blinking slowly. “I came to observe the chaos, of course. And to judge your life choices, which, frankly, are appalling.”

Mattheo let out a bark of laughter. “I love this guy.”

You rolled your eyes, still perched on your glowing tile pedestal. “Harold, do you have any advice for getting us out of this… whatever this is?”

Harold gave a long-suffering sigh. “If you’d like my help, you’ll need to do one thing first.”

“What’s that?” you asked hesitantly.

He smirked—or at least, you thought he smirked. “Admit that eating Glowplum Gummies was a terrible idea.”

Mattheo opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it. “Done. Worst idea of my life. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Hey!” Mattheo protested, looking betrayed. “You’re throwing me under the bus and the penguin?”

“It’s a comet-tailed penguin-Puffskein hybrid, actually,” Harold corrected smugly. “And your friend here has excellent survival instincts.”

You smirked. “See, Mattheo? Even Harold thinks I’m the sensible one.”

Mattheo groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is why I don’t trust magical snacks. They always turn my people against me.”

Harold hooted in approval. “And yet, you keep eating them. Truly remarkable.”

The room had quieted, as much as a space filled with glowing tiles, invisible flapping creatures, and a judgmental glitter-penguin hybrid could. Harold was perched smugly on the sulking armchair, the dragons had retreated to the ceiling in a huffy, sneezy cluster, and Mattheo was still sulking about being outvoted by both you and a sentient magical anomaly.

“So… now what?” you asked, still balanced awkwardly on your glowing tile pedestal.

Mattheo perked up immediately, his grin returning like it had never left. “Now? Now we see what else this room can do.”

You groaned. “I should’ve known you’d say something stupid.”

“Oh, come on,” Mattheo said, hopping onto another tile, which immediately lit up and started playing a jaunty little tune. “You can’t tell me this isn’t the most fun you’ve had in ages.”

“That’s a low bar,” you muttered, finally climbing down from your glowing pedestal, only for the floor tile beneath you to give a delighted ding and spin you around like you were on some cursed carnival ride.

“Whoa!” you yelped, grabbing onto a nearby bookshelf to steady yourself. The bookshelf, naturally, tutted disapprovingly.

“Careful!” it said in a raspy voice. “Do you know how long it takes to organize my volumes? Rough handling will not be tolerated.”

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Mattheo, meanwhile, was busy trying to catch one of the sneezy cloud dragons, again. He leaped from tile to tile, each one lighting up in vibrant colors as he went, and managed to grab hold of a tiny dragon by its tail. It let out an indignant chirp and zapped him with a miniature lightning bolt.

“Oi!” Mattheo shouted, shaking his hand. “You little—”

“I warned you,” you called, trying not to laugh. “Don’t pick fights with the local wildlife.”

“Wildlife?” Harold said, looking appalled. “Those are storm sprites, thank you very much. And they have more dignity than most wizards.”

Mattheo looked between you and Harold, clearly debating whether to retort, then decided against it. Instead, he plopped down on a particularly fluffy-looking rug, which immediately huffed and shuffled away from him.

“Did that rug just move?” he asked, looking both offended and impressed.

“You’re lucky it didn’t bite you,” you replied. “I’m starting to think everything in this room has a vendetta.”

“Everything in this room has taste,” Harold corrected, flicking his glittery tail. “Which is why they dislike your… energy.”

Mattheo gestured around dramatically. “This from the penguin-puff hybrid who’s lounging on a talking armchair. You’re all part of the chaos!”

“We’re refined chaos,” Harold replied, puffing out his chest.

You laughed, finally giving up on trying to restore order to the room. “Alright, baby. What’s your grand plan now? Or are we just going to sit here and wait for the rug to start giving life advice?”

Mattheo grinned mischievously, the kind of grin. “Actually, I was thinking we test the limits of this place. Harold, you’re in charge of navigation. Lead the way.”

Harold blinked at him, unimpressed. “I’m not your tour guide.”

Mattheo waved dismissively. “Fine, I’ll figure it out myself. Come on, let’s see if the ceiling turns into the night sky or something.”

As Mattheo started hopping from tile to tile again, you glanced at Harold, who gave you a resigned look. “You’re friends with him, I assume?”

“Unfortunately, a bit more” you replied. “But he grows on you.”

“Like a magical fungus?”

“Exactly.”

You followed Mattheo reluctantly, keeping an eye on the storm sprites, the talking furniture, and Harold, who waddled behind you like he was already regretting his involvement.

As Mattheo hopped further into the checkerboard chaos, his laughter echoing around the shimmering room, you followed cautiously, feeling the glowplum’s lingering effects buzz in your veins. The tiles beneath your feet rippled softly, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light, and the storm sprites above flitted in slow, dreamy arcs like glittering jellyfish in water.

“Alright,” Mattheo called over his shoulder, pointing at the ceiling. “Moment of truth—let’s see some stars!”

You looked up, half expecting the ceiling to transform into an open sky. Instead, it gave a lazy yawn and stretched, as if the enchanted room itself had decided it couldn’t be bothered. “No stars,” you said, trying to hide your relief. “Looks like your grand plan has fizzled out, Riddle.”

“Pfft, give it a second,” Mattheo said, tapping his wand on one of the glowing tiles. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“You? Preaching patience? That’s rich,” you retorted, stepping onto a slightly less wobbly tile. “You can’t even wait for toast to pop.”

“Because toast takes forever,” he said, as if this were a universally accepted fact.

Harold waddled up beside you, his glittering tail swishing gently. “For what it’s worth,” he said with a sigh, “this room doesn’t respond to reckless optimism. You’ll need a touch more subtlety if you want results.”

“Subtlety?” Mattheo asked, giving Harold an incredulous look. “We’re standing in a disco-themed fever dream, mate. Subtlety left the building hours ago.”

- ★、

The banter felt light, the sort of easy humor you and Mattheo always fell into, but as the minutes ticked by, you noticed something shifting. The vibrant colors of the tiles began to dim, the glow softening into a muted amber. The storm sprites, once frenetic and zippy, now floated lazily above, their translucent bodies losing their sharp edges. Even Harold seemed less sparkly, his glitter dulled to a faint shimmer.

“Is it just me,” you murmured, “or is the room… calming down?”

Mattheo paused mid-step, frowning. “Yeah, it’s definitely less… sparkly. Maybe it’s winding down.”

Harold let out a knowing hum. “Ah, the glowplum wears off. Happens to the best of us. You’ll be back to your boring, non-sparkly selves soon.”

You shot him a look. “Lovely.”

The tiles beneath your feet stopped rippling, settling into a steady, solid pattern. The enchanted checkerboard began to resemble an actual floor again, though faint traces of its former chaos still glimmered at the edges. You could feel the warm, spicy glow in your chest fading, leaving behind a hollow sort of clarity. The surreal haze was lifting, and with it came the sharp edges of reality.

Mattheo sat down on the now-stable floor, his usual grin replaced by a more subdued expression. “So, uh… that was something.”

“Something is one way to put it,” you said, sitting across from him. Your voice felt clearer, less buoyant, and you realized how much the glowplum had altered your perception. “I think my brain needs a vacation.”

“Mine, too,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But, you know, at least we didn’t end up cursed. Or stuck as furniture. Or eaten by Harold.”

Harold huffed. “I don’t eat people. I have standards.”

“Good to know,” Mattheo said with a faint smile, then looked at you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Just… coming back to normal is weird. It feels quieter now.”

“Quieter,” he echoed, leaning back on his hands. “But also kind of nice, right? I mean, no glowing tiles threatening to yeet us into another dimension.”

You chuckled, the sound grounding you. “Yeah. Nice.”

For a while, the two of you just sat there, the room around you returning to its default, neutral state. The armchair had stopped stretching, the storm sprites had vanished entirely, and Harold had curled up in a corner, his cosmic tail dimmed to a gentle flicker. The Room of Requirement felt oddly still, as though it, too, was recovering from the chaos.

Finally, Mattheo broke the silence. “So, uh, we’re never telling anyone about this, right?”

“Not a soul,” you agreed, smirking. “Though I’m keeping Harold as evidence if you ever try to drag me into another one of your ridiculous plans.”

“Fair enough,” Mattheo said with a laugh. Then, after a moment, he added quietly, “Thanks for… putting up with me. Even when I’m a complete idiot.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “You’re not a complete idiot,” you said, your tone softening. “Just… mostly an idiot.”

Mattheo tilted his head at you, that familiar, lopsided grin creeping onto his face. “Mostly an idiot, huh? That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Well, you’re my idiot, aren’t you?”

His grin softened into something warmer, and for a moment, the absurdity of the evening seemed to melt away. The glowplum haze had faded, but there was still a kind of magic lingering between you, one that had nothing to do with enchanted tiles or sneezing storm sprites.

“Always,” he said, his voice low and teasing, though his expression held a sincerity that made your chest feel a little too tight. “Though I’m starting to think you enjoy the chaos as much as I do.”

You huffed a laugh, leaning back against the now-motionless floor. “Enjoy is a strong word. Survive might be more accurate.”

“Survive?” Mattheo leaned closer, his dark eyes glittering with mischief. “You were thriving in there. Don’t think I didn’t notice you making friends with the talking table.”

“Thriving?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “I was this close to hexing you and the table.”

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “Thriving.”

You groaned, but the sound dissolved into laughter as he stretched out beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. The room was quiet now, save for the faint hum of magic that always seemed to linger at Hogwarts, and for once, it was a peaceful kind of quiet.

“I mean it, though,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now. “Thanks for sticking with me through… whatever that was.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you murmured, nudging him lightly.

He smirked, but the edges of it softened. “I am, aren’t I?”

You turned to look at him, expecting more teasing, but instead found him gazing at you with that rare, open expression he only ever showed when it was just the two of you. It made your heart twist in that stupid, familiar way it always did when he let his guard down.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You are.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you in a way that felt safe and certain. Then, with a lazy grin, Mattheo flopped back dramatically. “Alright, but next time, you’re eating the snack first.”

You laughed, the sound echoing softly in the now-normal room. “Not a chance, Riddle. I’m still recovering from this one.”

“Fine,” he said, grinning up at the ceiling. “But don’t think I won’t keep trying.”

And despite everything, you knew he would—and, if you were honest with yourself, you’d let him. Because chaos with Mattheo, as ridiculous as it always was, felt like home.

#⋆. 𐙚 ˚ yua0ra’s works #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #wizarding world #harry potter #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle oneshot #hp #hp fanfic #tw drugs #mattheo riddle drabble

78 notes · View notes

cherry-pop-elf · 7 months ago

Text

Warming Up The New Client

Fred Weasley x Reader

Sum: Was another one of those little bets you and Fred did. You lost, but you are kinda the biggest winner between the two of you. Especially when one of the Weasley’s business partners come in to discuss important things. Let’s see if he can keep his head straight

Warnings: 18+, cock warming, blow jobs, semi public, kinda cracky because not everything needs to be a porno you gotta laugh, accidental choking, worried boyfriend because whoops this has become a sitcom, after care. Lowkey tho any fic you’ll read from me will have it, unless stated otherwise. HEALTHY AND REALISTIC SEX

“MR WEATHERBIRD! What are you doing here?!” Fred would panic, as he would force his chair to push into the desk. Was followed by a thump, as your body hit the back of the desk. Hardly any space for you, and his legs, in the confined space.

Why were you under his desk, and between his legs? Well you lost a bet. Was a harmless one. Just those lazy Mondays, at the shop, where you both needed something to help stimulate the day. A bet where it didn’t matter who won or loss, because there weren’t really any losers when the fun is the game.

Your prize for losing was to give the winner a blow job. Nothing too crazy. That is until unaware company arrived. That being a man that the Weasley twins were meant to do business with. Seems like George must have missed the man. Well, he arrived via fire place. George wouldn’t have seen him arrive, unless in the office with you two.

“Is now a bad time, Mr. Weasley? I figured Mondays would work best for you. Tis a joke shop, after all. The slowest day of the week, as your largest income bracket is through the school children. A Monday morning felt the most reliable to arrive.” Damn his logic, that was what Fred thought. He had a point.

“No no! It’s fine, you are right. Just surprise, that’s all. Take a seat. Let’s talk!” He would grin his award winning smile, as you remained stuck in your hiding place. Left with a choice to make. Stop what you are doing, or see how far you could push the button. Well, you married a Weasley. What’s a little bit of risk?

“Wonderful. We have much to discuss.” Boy was this going to be boring. You knew it, Fred knew it, but hey. You are certainly going to make it more enjoyable. Or worse. Either way, it’s gonna be fun.

As the older gentlemen began his garble, you were busy with your own garbling. Letting his cock press into your cheek, as you tried to find a way to move your head. You didn’t want to just keep thumping your head on the wood. That’s not fun at all.

You were shifting your head all over the place, as you tried to get comfortable. Made for your boyfriend to struggle with paying attention to the boring work jargon his business partner was making. Was certainly difficult to make sure he looked like he was listening, and not currently getting sucked off. Certainly difficult indeed, when those freckled cheeks of his were rosey.

“You seem a bit warm, Mr. Weasley. Are you feeling well?” The older gentlemen would ask Fred. Ever the charismatic man he was, he was oh so quick to think on the fly. Lie out of every situation. Such a charming gift to have.

“Fever fudge. You know how my brother and I are. We always self test our products. That way if anyone gets hurt, it’s us. We only ever field test with mostly our siblings. We know how they would react to what we make, but not to strangers. No. We don’t act like it, but we try and keep things safe.” That seemed to win over Mr. Weatherbird. Charmed the man as much as he could charm a gaggle of girls in a quidditch stand.

The devil on your shoulder was going to be the death of you, and him, with what it was whispering to you. Wanting to try and make his facade crack somehow. Just a little bit. Enough to make him sweat under the pressure. Just a little bit. You don’t want to actually put him at risk of anything, but gambling is gambling. Win big, or die trying.

As you finally managed to force Fred’s chair back, you could properly move your head. Made him need to sit awkwardly, to not make it appear that he was pushed back. Didn’t want the man to get suspicious. Seems he wasn’t, as he was busy with papers. Gave Fred time to look down, and see your devious face. Stuffed with his cock. Was so arrousing, you could feel his cock twitch on your tongue. With fresh flavor for you to enjoy.

He would shoot you a glare, only for the man to look back up. Forced him to meet the clients eyes, as to try and act as chill as possible. Never did he think he would want to do paper work right now. Anything to not just cum down your throat. George was the moaner, not him. But you were seeing if they were identical in a few other ways.

That was until Mr. Weatherbird started to lean over the desk. Just trying to be polite, and show him something on the papers. Had Fred quickly slam himself back under the desk. Forced you to take his cock all the way down your throat, and gag on it. Had you cross eyed, and trying so damn hard to not gurgle on it. Guess you weren’t quite enough.

“What was that noise-?” “What noise?” “Sounded like someone was choking….” Fred, ever quick, was able to come up with the perfect lie. A lie melted in truth, to keep the seal on the little secret at hand closed.

“We have a product here called puking pasties. A pastry used to help kids throw up. For one reason or another. Not to mention we have many things that stink so bad you wish to obliviate yourself from the memory. Just kids being kids. George has it under control.” He would brush off the worry, as you tried to find your ability to breathe again.

Was rather difficult, as you were now trapped entirely under the desk this time. How your head was pressed against the desk, and held no way to move your head. Just gagging around his cock, with drool soaking all over your clothes.

The more you tried to steady yourself, the more his cock twitched in your mouth. Feeling your tongue trying to adjust itself. How your throat kept clenching and your lips desperate to move.

Before you could make any other noises, he was quick to wave his wand. Had his gramophone kick to life, and play that loud swing music those twins loved. Nothing like some big band to liven up the scene. Along with hide more of your gagging, and sputtering, in the hopes to finish this meeting.

“That’s better. Now, as we were saying-“ The droning was starting to get to him. All his mind could think about you was choking on his cock. Had him aroused, but also very worried he was hurting you. It’s not hot if it’s not consented on. Was an accident, yes, but he loves you and wants you safe. He had to figure out how to get you out of there, before things get worse.

“Say uh. Mr. Weatherbird, um-“ Wow was it getting harder to talk. Wasn’t helping that you were still scrambling. Your hands reaching into his lap, to try and push him back some. When trying to reach the front of his chair, you got a full grab of your favorite stress toy instead. Had his eyes go cross, for a moment, as he had to bite his lip. Trying so hard, but he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Oh, I know it’s alot. You are so new to this world of business. I respect it. You two are stars, I can see it. I’ll do my best to help guide you both. You two are already doing so wonderful. Truly business savvy. Your parents must be so proud. Here, I’ll leave these papers for you and your twin to discuss over. Just send an Owl if you have any questions.” He gave a tip of his hat to Fred, as Fred himself did his best to give a flustered nod.

Mr. Weatherbird would give a wave goodbye, and vanished through the fireplace. As soon as he did, Fred pushed himself back. Made for a rather pornographic sight, and sound, as he popped his cock out of your mouth.

You were just covered in your own drool. Face more flustered than his own, with your lips swollen from being stretched for so long. How you were panting hard from the stress of the scene. It was all too much. You were just so perfect in his view. He just had to add to it.

He barely had time to close your eyes, as he leaned back. His cock just spilling his cum all across your face. Across your drool stained chest. You were just covered in so much. You were surprised he even had so much in him. Guess this was some life or death edging, so to speak.

With your breath caught, it was his turn to pant. Just leaning back in his office chair. His body slack, as he was seeing stars. That release was so needed, and so intense. He swore he pulled his back out from it.

“That could have gone better…Or worse. Depends on if we look at this from a positive view or not.” You would joke, as he gave a dry laugh. Happy to know you were ok. You knew he was worried, you could just tell. There was something sweet about it. That even with such heat of the moment he was looking out for you.

You would let him collect himself, as a cleaning charm solved all your problems. You also were polite to help out his dick away for him. After care goes both ways, after all. When he would come back to reality he would take care of you. You knew that. Until then, you’ll make sure he is cared for to.

Once he had his time to no longer sweat himself a new pool, he would pull you into his lap. Just cuddling you. A means of apology, without saying it. You knew he was trying to not have you humiliated. It wasn’t intentional in any way. The way you would play with his hair conveyed it. Both of you using your own silent little love language.

“So….Whens your next meeting?” The fact you asked that made his head spin. You wanted to do that again? That risk? The choking? The fear? The adrenaline? The insanity of it all?

“…….Thursday, after lunch….” He’s a Weasley. They were all adrenaline junkies. That’s just one of the many things that made you love him. Love him, kiss him, and bump your noses together. His adorable bird nose, with yours.

“You are such a minx, and I LOVE it.”

568 notes · View notes