#georgexreader

[angelus-scripturae]

memeulous smut ? xx

Ugh!! I have been WAITING for an excuse to write for him. Gosh thank you so much. (i made it a drabble if that’s okay. if you want a full one i’m happy to write it)

George smut drabble

(no gender specified however female anatomy is mentioned)

WARNINGS: Oral (male receiving), Penetrative sex, dom george

This man is a rough dom. Argue with the wall it’s just fact. He’d also LOVE overstim <3

This man you’ll be pounding into you and I mean POUNDING (like god speeds) while you’re beneath him just screaming his name. Alex better be out when this is happening or imma feel so bad for him. Your moans would be echoing off every surface in that room. You’d be squirming under George from the overstimulation. He’d be having none of it. He’d have you bent over doggy style, one hand holding your hands behind your back and the other around your waist to keep you in place. He ain’t stopping until you say the safe word.

I also think you’d both establish a traffic light system. Like if you were asking him to stop, he’d slow down and ask “what colour” if you replied with red: he’d stop no questions asked, green: he’d keep going, yellow: he’d slow down. Or if you were trying something new he’s continuously ask what colour to see where your limits were with that thing in particular.

On that note i think he’d very much be up for trying ne things. Bondage? Hell yeah. Ice play? You got it. BDSM? If you want to. He strikes me as the type of person to do whatever his partner wants but will definitely tell you if it makes him uncomfy.

I’m conclusion: I’ve thought about fucking this man way to much.

Thank you so much for the request! home this was something along the lines of what you wanted! xx

MASTERPOST

[ickle-ronniekins]

clarity, george x reader

hey guys! happy new year! it’s 2020, which is crazy, ‘cause wasn’t it just 2009 like a second ago? anywho, i’m sick with a cold and am working on requests (i promise!) but i recently discovered the whole soulmate au thing and i really wanna try it soooo...here’s hoping this isn’t terrible! i posted about it yesterday about the idea but i did change some things (i rewrote the end five different times i shit you not) also ps sorry this is hella long

prompt: soulmate au; everyone has a journal that allows them to write back and forth with their soulmate

A/N: so as i’m writing this it kind of reminds me of when harry wrote to tom riddle in CoS haha. anywho—i still want the reader to be a ~magical being~ so i do still want them to go to hogwarts (does that count as an au, then? WHATEVER, lol) however even though they can write back and forth with their soulmate, there’s this lingering restriction on soulmates revealing their identities because of the impending war and voldy and stupid fucking umbridge and all this stuff so they’re sworn to secrecy, not even names, not even hints, until one of them breaks

warning(s): mentions of war, blood, bodies, anxiety, not proofread

So sorry my writing’s been sporadic. Potions is dragging, love.

The words appeared very lightly, you almost didn’t catch them at first. Grinning giddily to yourself, you pulled your journal close to you so only you could see the fragile script in front of you. Potions. With Snape. You were just in Potions with Professor Snape. Is it possible that your soulmate had passed you by on your way out of the dungeons?

Well, of course it was. The castle was only so large, after all. It was proving rather difficult to keep your identity a secret.

You wanted to know who he was the second he first wrote you and made you blush. But, there were rules. Rules you both didn’t want to follow.

Is it four o’clock yet? He asked you now.

You grinned with excitement. Each time his handwriting appeared, it filled you with an overwhelming sense of closeness to him—since this, of course, was as close as you’d gotten.

The impending war put so much worry on your heart—for you, for him.

Biting your lip, you wrote back, I reckon Snape’s class isn’t going terribly well?

A quick response appeared. It’d certainly be better—if you were here.

You wanted nothing more than to know his name, hear his voice, be there with him.

The feast anxiously awaits your arrival, you wrote back cheekily, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice and watching as a cackle of students filtered into the Great Hall. Desperately, you searched the crowd for an inkling of him. There was none, of course. You had no bloody idea. Sighing greatly, you slumped back into your seat, poking at the food on your plate. How long could you possibly keep this going? Your soulmate didn’t really feel like one, especially when you didn’t even know his name.

Are you here, in the Great Hall? he wrote. I just walked in. C’mon, any type of sign that you’re here—at least tell me the color of your hair so I can eliminate some people—that isn’t too daring, now, is it?

How you wanted to. You wanted more than anything to tell him. But the worry that pulled at your heart—it was too much.

With utmost regret, you scribbled, You know we can’t, darling.

His response wasn’t exactly what you’d wanted. What you wanted, truthfully, was maybe for him to break—for him to finally reveal himself to you in a fit of fury, because he was so irrevocably in love with you that he just couldn’t stand it anymore. You could practically feel his sadness when, after a few painful minutes, he just answered, I know...

You looked around you, anxiously searching for some type of answer, but there was none. Many around you were scribbling quickly in notebooks in front of them. It was useless, really, to search for someone you barely knew in a sea full of people.

These restrictions are bloody ridiculous, he wrote one cozy, autumnal afternoon. He was frustrated. You could tell. The pressure of his quill marks and his messy handwriting showed you just how frustrated he was. It’s not fair that they’re keeping us from one another. It drives me bloody mad.

He had already left Hogwarts. Any hope you had of maybe locking eyes with him in the Great Hall and just knowing, deep down, that he was the one...those feelings of hope we’re gone. He was even further away now than you could imagine. You were no longer under the same roof.

In the common room next to the fire, you gripped the pages of your journal tightly. You knew how he felt, of course you did. I’m sick of it too, love... Your heart ached for him.

It seemed silly, but it was the truth. How were you supposed to feel about the man you were to spend the rest of your life with when you barely knew anything at all?

An idea of sorts came to him. You could almost feel his excitement and adrenaline rush. He answered, softer now, What if, instead of in writing, we just plan to meet...

His writing trailed off. You knew he recognized the danger of this idea, with every single slip of parchment and message being watched and intercepted.

I don’t care, you know. I don’t care what they do to me. As long as I can finally meet you.

Slowly, you flipped through the many pages of your journal, reading some of your conversations with him from the past years. It had proven extremely difficult to not give any hints about your identities over the years, so of course, you reread, every single day, the hints that he had given you.

He was one of many children. He was an inventor. He inherited his mum’s love for cooking and was a damn good one, if he did say so himself. He loved Hogwarts in the wintertime. His dad was overly fascinated with Muggles and their way of living. And he was funny—really funny, but he didn’t need to tell you that. He was always making you laugh.

You fed off of these five and only things for years. Years, they had sustained you, but right now, it wasn’t feeling like enough. Nothing felt like enough.

I want you to be safe, you told him. You need to be.

And then, you wrote again. Promise me that you are. Safe, I mean.

Your answers had been more sporadic and choppy and less long and interesting. He’d told you after he’d left Hogwarts that he’d been working on something, something to ease the pain of the impending war, something that he was excited about. The glimmer of those feelings kept you afloat in what felt like a world in which you were drowning slowly.

An answer came when you were asleep. I’m safe, darling. We had a long night. Promise me you’ll focus on your classes and graduating and keeping yourself safe and sound and I promise everything will be worth it.

All these years of writing and waiting and hoping seemed to be taking it’s toll on you both. There had been days where you hadn’t talked with one another at all, days where you didn’t even have the energy to pick up you quill and write a single thing. You barely had enough energy to discuss the news of you finishing school.

He told you one stormy night that he’d gotten hurt, that he’d lost one of his ears. In a moment of panic and worry, you’d written back as quickly as you could with questions you knew he couldn’t answer. What happened? Where are you? I’ll find you, let me come and help you.

A stern “no”, and then a softer, “I’m okay, I promise,”, had not helped your nerves at all. Things were getting worse. Voldemort’s army were taking out witches, wizards and Muggles alike, one by one, as the world you knew and loved was crumbling in pieces around you.

It was an awful feeling, knowing your soulmate was out somewhere in the world, hurting—in pain—and you couldn’t do anything at all to help him.

As the war worsened, your family was tortured for information. Death Eaters had stormed your home, questioning you on the whereabouts of Harry Potter, a boy just a year younger than you, a boy whom you went to school with—but you didn’t know. It didn’t matter, though. You were left with stinging burns, open wounds, broken ribs and gashes along your arms and legs.

It’d been exactly four days since you’d written your soulmate.

Please, love, let me know that you’re okay, he pleaded. You swore you could see tear drops next to the words he’d written. You told him swiftly, with all of the energy you could muster, that you were.

It seemed as though the sky had turned permanently dark gray. Storm clouds had swallowed the world whole. There was an eerie, cool wind that sent chills down your spine, and it was quiet—too quiet—the kind of quiet it is when it’s snowing outside. But this wasn’t the good kind.

Word had gotten to you that Hogwarts was under attack. The school you grew up in was being pummeled to the ground with those that you loved inside of it. He was there, he had to be there. Maybe, just maybe, in a moment of clarity, you’d find him somehow. You hadn’t thought once—you apparated almost immediately, the pull behind your naval nearly knocking the wind right out of you, but before you’d left, you wrote him one last thing. I’m going to Hogwarts. If we don’t survive...know that I love you. Salty tears escaped your eyes and landed on the pages of your journal.

You did, of course, even though you hadn’t met yet. Love him. You knew it deep in your heart. He was your soulmate, after all, even if you didn’t survive.

But the second before you apparated, you saw scribbly, messy handwriting on the journal placed delicately on your desk. It was so quick that you almost missed it, but you know you couldn’t have dreamt it. It was all too real. My name’s George Weasley—find me as quickly as you can.

Of course you knew him. He was one of the most well known people at Hogwarts when you were in school there. Heart thumping as you landed on your feet in the middle of the Great Hall, you noticed the blood, the bodies, the debris all around you. You swallowed over a lump in your throat. What would happen now that he revealed himself?

You’d been waiting years to hear his name.

Where was he?

And you saw him, hoisting himself on top of rubble, firing spells in every which direction, with his brothers next to him. A piece of debris slid against your cheek and left a stinging burn in it’s place. You touched your fingers to it gently, only to see some blood appear. You winced and fumbled over bodies and bricks and rubble.

He knocked a Death Eater over the edge of the bridge.

“George?”

He whirled around immediately—his face tired and his eyes bloodshot and sad. There were cuts and bruises all over his head, his red hair matted down by dirt, a large gash in his arm glistening with bright blood.

“It’s you,” his voice was hoarse and dry. He brought a hand to your cheek and wrapped it around the back of your neck. His hands absentmindedly made their way through your long, messy hair. His eyes were glassy. You tried to choke back your tears.

You placed your hands against his chest. “Finally.”

A moment of clarity hit when you realized that you’d met the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

“I love you, you know—” he said in a moment of panic, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a hospital of sorts—St. Mungo’s. Everything was still hazy. You rubbed your temples, head throbbing, and swallowed. Your throat was extremely dry. You reached for the glass of water on your beside table.

There was a news clipping there. Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you read slowly. There’d been a war a few months prior. Lord Voldemort was dead—he had died at Hogwarts. Wasn’t that the school you’d attended? You furrowed your brow.

Your memory was very fuzzy.

A red haired man walked slowly into the room with some sort of book in his hands.

Why did he look so familiar?

He stopped in his tracks when your eyes met his. Careful, so as not to scare you, he grinned lightly and said softly, “You’re awake.” There was a hitch in his voice.

He tried to tell you many things about your life. Your name, your age, where you went to school. What had happened during the war. That he was your soulmate. He mentioned something about journals and how he and you had communicated only through them for years. You couldn’t seem to understand. You wanted too, but you just...couldn’t. He didn’t really tell you anything about his life—just yours. Perhaps you needed to remember yours first. Having him near you gave you a sense of warmth, though.

“The doctors say she may not remember for a while, mate,” another man who looked exactly like him had whispered one afternoon. He patted his brother on the shoulder. “Maybe try and start from the beginning.”

The beginning. Had you forgotten everything from the beginning?

Panic rose in your chest.

Through a very frustrating conversation, trying to get you to remember anything at all, he reintroduced himself, as if to start new. “I’m George,” he told you.

George, you thought. Familiar. You smiled at him.

Everyday, he stayed by your side and watched as your memory seemed to improve, even slightly—bits and pieces coming back to you. You’d attended Hogwarts. Your father was a wizard, but mum was a Muggle. Your favorite class at school was Charms. But him—he was still hazy.

You could tell it was hurting him, but he’d never let on. Your heart ached.

“When did we meet?” You asked him one day, sitting up in bed and blowing on your hot soup.

He loved it when you asked him questions. “During the war, actually,” he told you. “It was only for a moment, though. Very fleeting, but very wonderful.” He smiled at you.

You grinned back at him, feeling a surge of familiarity enter your body. You reached out and placed your hand on top of his, squeezing lightly. You saw him swallow over a lump in his throat, his eyes yearning for you to remember.

And now?

You asked him, “Can I...can I read your journal?” It was the book he brought with him every single day.

Tears welled up in his eyes, he gently placed the book into your hands. “Of course you can.” He stood up and placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I’ll have a word with the doctors—I’ll be right back,”

When you were sure he was out of the room, you opened the pages. Some were ripped and tattered, but you could still read the passages and differentiate between your writing and his. I just can’t wait to spend my life with you. You’d said that. Your heart skipped a beat.

I hope you that when we finally meet, he’d written, I am going to kiss you and never stop. I know it sounds silly because we haven’t met, but I love you...more than anything in this world.

Your cheeks flushed red at the thought.

As you sat there in bed, imagining what it’d be like to press your lips to his, slowly biting your bottom lip, he sauntered back into you room and snapped you back into reality. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were smiling until he startled you.

You placed the journal gently on your bedside table and took to cooling off your soup again. George was busy tidying up around the hospital room. When you took a slow sip, it was as if your taste buds had been reawakened. “Bloody hell, this is delicious—where did you get it?”

George smiled gratefully at you. “I made it this morning,” he told you. And just like that. Clarity. “I love cooking, actually, nobody really knows that but I got it—”

“—from your mum,” you cut him off.

He stood at the other end of the room, peering at you.

“Yes,” he said.

It was like everything came back to you at once—the writing, the moment he revealed himself, the war, seeing him for the first time—it was everything. Your soulmate.

Smiling greatly, you continued. “And your dad, he—he loves Muggle things, doesn’t he? He’s fascinated by them, everything about them—and you’ve a lot of siblings, don’t you?” He’d sat down next to you and pulled your hands into his. “And you absolutely hated Potions class—” at this, he laughed through a sob. A feeling of bravery entered your body. “And you promised me that when we finally met, you’d kiss me and you’d never stop.” You inched closer to him. “Guess we never really got a chance, did we?”

With tears in his eyes, he gently caressed your cheek and glanced longingly from your eyes to your lips. With a tiny nod from you, he laughed into the kiss that was years in the making. You felt like you were reentering your body. He kissed your forehead, your jawline, your neck, your shoulders, your hands— “You remember,” he said quietly.

You let out a soft hum as you pulled him close again. He gave you the most genuine and heartwarming smile when you told him, “I could never forget the man I love. I just can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane

other tags: @toranyx @wolfwistleweasley @t1nycak3 @hyuangel @iluvharrypotter172

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! :)

[theyoungest-weasley]

i just got a request for a Fred Weasley fic with fluff at the end and a little angsty as well.

as you all know i am an idiot so in the process of responding to this ask i deleted it.

im going to go off what i remeber and start writing! but if the anon wants to send it again or add any specifications or whatever else just lmk!!!

[girlwsoftsound]

In The Mood || George Daniel Oneshot

Word Count: 1,792 Warning: Smut. Summary: “this is v smutty but could you possibly right something about (Y/N) playing with herself one afternoon when she thinks she's in the flat alone but George comes home early and well ~you know~ the rest” Author’s Note: Well this is certainly something lol! Very very smutty, but also very very fun to write. Hope you like it as much as I do. Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!

You swore no ulterior motive by it.

Girls have their urges, and they come at random times just like they do with men. Sure, they can hide them better, but sometimes action needs to be taken. Sometimes, they cannot wait for their boyfriend to come home from fucking around at a basketball game with his bandmates to satisfy their urges. Sometimes, a nice group of candles, soft music, and a hand is all a girl needs.

George said he would be gone for four hours. You could not wait that long, as much as it pained you to admit it. Your body feels on fire, and everything basically calls for you to do something about it. Your smell is heightened, your sense of touch has makes you feel sensitive - it is as if you have this itch that you have to scratch. You feel a bit silly, like a pitiful dog in heat, but it is the truth. You need to fix this, and fast.

Taking a few vanilla candles from your drawers intended for losses in power, you set them up around the bedroom. They find homes next to photographs of you and George, on bedside tables, in front of mirrors - anywhere they can possibly set the mood. Smooth jazz from some old record George owns, with no lyrics but beautiful music, plays softly throughout the room. He sometimes listens to it when he’s strung out, be it on work or stress, lying back and shutting his eyes to the world. You sometimes join him in his relaxation. Tonight however, it was soundtracking a much different type of relaxation.

Sitting on the bed, you forgo covering yourself up in blankets. You usually do that if you are worried about getting caught, though the only real person that could catch you is George. Sometimes, you want a night to yourself and not to edge George on. You do not want to be unfair to him. Tonight though, you are sure you will not be caught. He has spoken about this basketball night for a long while, so there is no way he will leave early unless there is some freak emergency. You pay no further mind to the covers other than to toss them further down the bed. Along with them go your pants and underwear. There is no use for them, either.

Your back hits the pillows, and a familiar pattern begins. You start up top, where you knew George likes to mess with you while making out. Your hands travel across your neck, down your chest to your breasts. You palm them through your shirt, imagining his larger hands doing the same. You imagine the breath from his lips hitting them, hitting your neck as he kisses you so. You shiver, and it brings a giggle to your lips. Oh, how he messes with you.

A few moments of fun teasing and feeling yourself up lead to curiosity. Your lower half, cold and yet burning for touch, takes priority. With a little help from some lube on your bedside dresser, you lower your fingers down and rub them ghostlike across your clit, just enough to elicit tension within you. Your eyes flutter shut, and one of your fingers enters you, testing you. You enjoy the feeling, all the while still knowing you are longing for more. George is more. He is much more, far more than any finger. On any other night, you’d long for a dildo or more, but this night does not have you feeling adventurous. It has you simply wanting to get off. You want past the games, right into the pleasure. Sighing, you enter in a second.

In and out you go, moaning slightly when you hit the right spot. It feels good, really good, but you find yourself not exactly getting off from it. More is needed, or rather, more is needed elsewhere. Your fingers switch from their place inside you, trained then on your clit. You begin with a slow pace, because slow paces for you always build up to much more, the type of more that left dents in your headboard and moans leaving your throat. Breathing in slow, you gradually work up from that pace. Imagining George’s tongue down there helps, because he always is so skilled and leaves you writhing. It cannot be denied that he is skilled on that front.

Another sigh leaves your lips as your fingers move in a quicker circular fashion. It’s that familiar heat, that dash to the finish that you crave every time either George’s or your fingers go at it. Your free hand grips at your breast, kneading it and gasping at the tender touch it brings. Without even realizing it, a soft and breathy ‘George’ slips past your faded-pink lips. Your face flushes because the noise embarrasses you, but your mind quickly flies onto a different subject, one that overwhelms you far more than the feelings below your waistline.

George is standing at the door. His lips are curved up in a salacious smirk, his hips are cocked to the side against the doorframe, and he is staring you down with hazy, hooded eyes that make your stomach twist into knots.

Fuck.

“Someone called my name?”

You open your mouth, but your desperation for speech goes unfulfilled. Mouth dry, all you can do is stare over yourself with your jaw slightly agape. He saunters forward, slow and steady, teasingly so, until his knees meet the end of the bed. You see his eyes flicker down to your exposed lower half, those knots twisting even further. George licks his lips.

“Impatient, were we?”

“Y-You weren’t supposed to be back,” you cower out. “I-I thought you would be gone all night.”

“Ross twisted his ankle so we called it a night early,” George explains, distracting you with his fingers just barely touching your shin in soft, back-and-forth movements. “Were you just about to cum?”

“George.”

“I already heard that, I need an answer,” he says, drawing impossibly more color to your face. Shifting, you bring your legs back into yourself and curl into a ball sitting up. George looks disapproving. He’s on the bed in front of you in moments.

“Are you shy, love?”

“I-I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“You don’t need to feel shy around me.” He punctuates his words with kisses to your skin, sending goosebumps across in ripples. “You’re wonderful. I love you. Walking in on you just now was one of the most incredible and sexy times I’ve ever experienced encountering you. If you want me to, I can help you finish.”

You smile bashfully. “Really?”

“It’d be rude of me not to,” he replies with a softer smile.

At your nod, George moves forward and crawls to meet his lips to yours. He’s soft and sweet, tasting like minty gum and going slow. He’s building you up just how you like, working from your lips to your jawline with his skilled ones, dotting your sensitive skin with love. He elicits a few more gasps of his name to his happiness. You melt into his firmer touch given in response.

As fast as his work began up top, George is quick to move to your more exposed bottom. Inching your legs apart and down where they were, he nestles in and presses a few delicate kisses to the inside of your thighs. Your hands find a home in his locks, slick with sweat from the game but still so beautiful to behold. He moans at the touch, and the feeling is wonderful against your skin. You take note to give them a few tugs before the night is over.

“Are you going to be loud for me, love?”

You smile, scratching his head for encouragement. “Depends. I was having a pretty good time before you came here. You’ve got to show me up.”

Something wicked flashes in George’s eye. “Challenge accepted.”

Barely a moment to breathe, George dives in on you, his tongue giving you one, grand lick that forces an involuntary moan out of you. Then, leaving you reeling, he sucks on your clit. The suction drives you wild. He is always so good at this. You wondered in the beginning of your relationship with him if he ever was taught how to properly give head because of his skill in doing so. You pictured Matty when they were young and naive teaching him on fruit while they both were high as hell, and even told Matty one time when he was high. It made him laugh so hard he nearly cried. When you told George about it, he laughed about as hard, but followed it up with a promise to show you next time he ate fruit. Needless to say, he went from eating fruit to eating you out faster than either of you expected.

In this moment, you are simply grateful he has these skills at all. You could not be happier to have him finish what you started, to take you to that ultimate high, because in the end, no amount of jazz or candles or skilled finger work can compare to the way he makes you feel. Nothing can beat the firm grasp he has on your thigh and waist, or the way he keeps you close even when the pleasure starts to build. Not even your favorite toy can beat out the way George’s tongue flicking and sucking your clit sends electricity through your body. He’s one of a kind. He could never be replaced.

“You gonna’ cum for me?” George asks, hearing your whines start to get more tense and high. His thumb rubs at your clit in his mouth’s absence, and you struggle to respond with the way it makes your head feel even more hazy.

“Cum for me, {Y/N}.”

Tensing up, your hips fighting against George’s other very firm hand at your waist, you cum with a drawn out moan, fierce at first and then tapering off as your high rippled through you. George’s mouth meets you as you come down, gently licking at your folds, bringing you down ever-so-tenderly. When your moans subside and your hips sink into the bed, George climbs up you to meet your lips. His kiss is salty, and you eagerly accept it.

“So, did I meet your challenge?”

Pulling away, you giggle and rub his back. “You fuckin’ crushed it. God, you are incredible.”

George smirks. “Better than your hand?”

“Of course you dumby,” you reply, pushing at his shoulder. “I’m glad you came home.”

Smiling, George nuzzles your face. “Yeah well, I’m glad I came home, too. Love you so much, {Y/N}.”

“I love you too, George. No matter where you are.”

[snatchmymira-blog]

fred weasley

reblog if u agree

[xharrypotterimagines]

GEORGE X READER (Yule ball struggles.)

There I stood. On the top of the stairs.. alone. Could my night get any worse? I think not. I still managed to clean up nicely, I mean.. who needs a man? Right? I can take care of myself, and dress up nicely just for me. I walked down the stairs looking for someone familiair. But sadly I couldn’t spot any of my friends. I didn’t want to spent my night mocking about some asshole of a boy, so I headed to the only place that was familiar to me. The only place in the room that felt save. The bar. I walked over there and sat down on the bar stool. “Two shots please.” Just to start the night ofcourse. “You are not old enough to drink yet.” The barman sneered. “Ethan, we all know that you have alcohol over there behind the bar. I know that for sure.” You looked at the group of teachers in the corner. Ethan raised his brow. “So let’s try it again. Ethan, can I have two shots please?” Ethan sighed. “Drink it fast, I can’t get caught.” You rolled your eyes. “Ofcourse I’m drinking it fast. It’s a fucking shot.” Ethan laughed. “You are quite sassy when your mocking over a boy.” You patted Ethan on his shoulder. “You know me to well, my drinking buddy.” He smiled at you and handed you the shots. You tilted the first shot, and the shot gave you a silly feeling. You drank the other shot very fast. “Brrr. How much alcohol is in here?” You whispered at Ethan. “Let’s just keep it on.. a lot.” You sighed. “Shit.” Ethan laughed. “Just give me a butter beer.” You sighed. “Aah, (y/n) I already thought I could find you at the bar.” George said behind you. You winked at him. “Where is your date? Before I steal you away ofcourse.” You said smirking. “You are dangerous for me (y/n). I’m with Angelina.” You sighed. “Damn.” George smirked at you. “Who is the lucky one who got to take you to the ball?” He said observing you very closely. “William was supposed to take me. But he fucking ditched me.” George gave you a thoughtful look. “He is an idiot to ditch you. I wish you went with me when I asked you.” He said with a bit of disappointment in his voice. “I really wanted to go with you, I wanted to go with you more that with William. But you didn’t ask me..” He held his hand out to you. You grabbed his hand and walked with him to the dance floor. “You look so beautiful.” His gaze at you made you blush. You brought your lips to his ear and whispered something in his ear. “You look very hot yourself.” Your voice made him shiffer a little. “That was hot.” He said, bringing his face closer to yours. You looked him deep in his eyes while laying both of your hands on his cheeks. George was the first one to give in. He kissed you passionately, he kissed you like you had never been kissed before. “George Jesus?!” George jumped up and turned around to face Angelina. “You slut! You are stealing my man!” Angelina screamed at you. “I’m so sorry Angelina, I don’t want to seem like an asshole.” Angelina slapped him across the face. “You certainly do! Fucking playboy!” George laughed a little while rubbing with his hand over his cheek where he just got slapped. “I love (Y/n) I just can’t hold my feelings back.” Angelina turned around crying.

“That was harsh..” you said whispering. “I feel like such an asshole.” He said sadly. “Do you really love me..?” George smiled. “Yes, since the first time YOU flirted with me.” You snorted. “You flirted with me!” George grabbed both of your hands. “Yes. I definitely flirted with you. Beautiful.”

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Who do you ship Fred with?

(It's for a GeorgexReader request but Fred needs a partner 😂)

tbh I have heard about FredxHermione ship but... I don't really see it 😬😂

[mysweetgeo]

Hey if you accept requests can I please request a GeorgexReader based on Devil in her Heart? It’s my favorite song 🥰

absolutely i can !! sorry for the delay, and i hope this is up to your expectations !!! i’m sorry this is isn’t really an x reader fic, i was unsure of how to write this one !

Devil in Her Heart

Request: Hey if you accept requests can I please request a George x Reader based on Devil in her Heart? It’s my favorite song🥰

Warnings: Implied smut !!!! No actual smut but it is heavily implied !!!

(She’s got the devil in her heart)

George didn’t know what he was getting into.

But her eyes, they tantalize

She’d been like a seductive temptress, pulling all the stops to grab his attention, not that she needed to—his eyes were already glued to her.

Dressed in a tight black mod dress with fishies that clung to her thighs, George hadn’t known what to do with himself once she caught his eye.

(She’s going to tear your heart apart)

Her lips, however, were stained in a deep red, resembling blood. Possibly the blood of her latest kill.

Oh, her lips, they really thrill me

George couldn’t resist her seductive looks and her curves as she waltzed her way to the lady’s toilets, a finger curling in her direction as a suggestion to follow her.

I’ll take my chances, for romance is so important to me

As if drawn by an invisible string, he was following in her direction. The thrill of getting his hands on the curves of her hips sent a shiver up his spine, and an appreciative throb into his groin.

She’ll never hurt me, she won’t desert me

Upon arriving at the door to the lady’s toilet, George knocked gently, hearing a sultry voice call out to him, “Come in.”

She’s an angel sent to me

He opened the door and saw the mystery woman sat on the bathroom sink, legs spread as she grinned seductively in George’s direction.

His eyes widened at the scene displayed before him, “Christ,” he mumbled under his breath.

(She’s got the devil in her heart)

When he’d been eyeing her earlier John had nudged him, “It’s a trap, mate. She’s a maneater, y’know.”

George hadn’t believed a word he’d said.

No, no, this I can’t believe

“She’ll use you and leave you,” Paul joined in after George had shaken his head at John’s poor advice.

(She’s going to tear your heart apart)

“And how would you two know?” George questioned.

“John had her once,” Paul said with a nod in John’s direction.

“Used me and left me out to dry,” John confirmed.

“She probably found out about Cyn, there’s no way she does that to every bloke,” George denied.

No, no, nay will she deceive

“It’s the truth, Georgie. Just tryin’ to give ye fair warning if you decide to dip yer willy in there,” John retorts.

George rolled his eyes, whatever nonsense John was going on about couldn’t be further from the truth, he was sure of it.

I can’t believe that she’ll ever, ever go

He soon found that John, in fact, was telling the truth.

Not when she hugs me and says she loves me so

She’d used George for exactly what she wanted, a good quick lay—with promises and a longing for more.

She’ll never hurt me, she won’t desert me, listen can’t you see?

When George met up with John and Paul later that week, tail tucked between his legs after attempt after attempt had been made to meet with the temptress, he was completely and totally embarrassed that he had been so quick to dismiss their advice just to get his dick wet.

(She’s got the devil in her heart)

“Told you so,” John had said as he slung an arm around George’s neck to lock him in a headlock.

“Quit teasin’ him, John, he’s just a youngin’ yet,” Paul defended, but not making an attempt to free George from John’s grip.

Oh, no, no, no, this I can’t believe

“Oh cheer up, Georgie! There’s sure to be many more fish in the sea! Or birds between yer legs,” John teased, fluffing George’s hair as the younger lad desperately tried to free himself.

(She’s going to tear your heart apart)

“He’s right, y’know!” Paul called after them.

No, no, nay will she deceive

The three lads stumbled into the next bar after John had released George and George had fixed his hair.

Upon walking in, the temptress was there once again, this time in a deep red dress with a matching lip stain.

Don’t take chances, if your romance is so important to you

“Don’t fall for it, George,” John nudged him as he saw the woman eyeing George once again, “You dip yer toes in again and it’s over for you.”

She’ll never hurt me, she won’t desert me

“You’re right,” George conceded.

She’s an angel sent to me

But after several pints, George couldn’t tell up from down, let alone right from wrong.

(She’s got the devil in her heart)

He found himself in the lady’s toilet once again, thrusting into the temptress as her painted nails scratched at his pale skin.

No, no, no, no, this I can’t believe

She whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you came back,” in a seductive voice after they’d both finished.

(She’s going to tear your heart apart)

And George knew he was only to be let down again, as she would reject him tomorrow, and the next day and the next.

No, no, nay will she deceive

“Me too,” he affirmed, sucking a hickey under her jaw.

(She’s got the devil in her heart)

And when he let her follow him home, he thought maybe this time.

’Cause she’s an angel sent to me

This time she’d stay.

(She’s got the devil in her heart)

No, she’s an angel sent to me

[angy-mouse]

hey mouse i was totally not binge-reading my way through every series you have and was just wondering about the relationship dynamics. idk if its just me but it seems like live in whore and demon team boys relationship with each other is different? idk any nonspoiler information you can give i will gobble up like delicious soup

the relationship is a bit different, basically demonteam all three boys love reader and reader loves the boys, but they have the best friend/brotherly relationship with each other that they do irl. liveinwhore goes from georgexreader best friends/fuckbuddies to dreamteamxreader fuckbuddies to dreamteamxreader relationship in everything but name to 'huh im chill with sharing my lover both sexually and domestically with specifically these 2 other men there might be a reason for that' and one day they'll reach peak bisexual polycue status like theclub has.

i serve soup.

[ickle-ronniekins]

lazy sunday, george x reader

request: from anon: Hi!! Could you write a george x Reader one shot where the reader is really short? The plot is up to you, I love your writing! | dear anon, i thoroughly and wholeheartedly suck. i understand (and hate myself for it) that this request has been sitting in my inbox for ages. truthfully, i didn’t know what to write for a very long time. writer’s block had settled itself very nicely in my brain, until it didn’t. i deeply apologize for the delay, i hope you love it darling x

A/N: maybe i’ll make the reader a muggle who can’t accio the shit out of things so when george teases her and she can’t use magic it proves difficult for her?? and of course he’s no help, hahah

prompt(s): none

warning(s): pure fluff y’all

George Weasley found most of his pleasure in teasing you relentlessly.

He found himself doing these things on a daily basis—placing things on high shelves you couldn’t reach, pushing up on his feet just an inch or two when you were desperately trying to kiss him, and smothering your whole body with his when given the chance.

“Georgie, put me down!”

He loved to pick you up and spin you around in circles as you tried with all of your might to release yourself from his tight hold, but you couldn’t. He loved watching you become flustered.

One lazy Sunday afternoon proved to be an especially difficult one for you, as you were busy cleaning the apartment and were looking for your glasses. You were so upset—George adored you in your glasses. You couldn’t see a thing. Blind as a bat without your contacts, you were.

You’d checked every single place you could reach, and they were nowhere to be found. Had you misplaced them somewhere else? Had you checked every crevice of the apartment, twice? Were they somewhere out of reach?

“Looking for something, love?” came a cool voice.

Your boyfriend sauntered into the kitchen, where you were standing on top of the counter, checking the tops of the cabinets for your spectacles.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

He leaned against the wall and smirked at you.

“Georgie, have you seen my glasses?”

He pulled them out of his back pocket and spun them slowly in his fingers. “You mean these?”

A wave of relief washed over you, and you jumped down from the counter, your feet hitting the marble with a muffled thump in your slippers, and you waltzed over to George. He placed his hands behind his back, keeping your glasses far out of reach, and he asked you, “Oh, you need them now?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Smug bastard. “Yes.” You knew that look.

And then he took them from behind himself and kept them above his head, eyeing them as he spoke to you. “Are you sure they’re yours? How can you tell? You can’t even see—”

He was cracking himself up with his stupid, silly jokes.

“Very funny, George. C’mon, now, I’ve got to finish cleaning so we can head to your parents’ for dinner—”

You tried to reach for them, but George kept inching himself higher and higher so they were completely out of your grasp. You did not like when he did this, especially when he made you jump for things, but you had no choice. You hopped once, twice, three times before you were almost able to grab them. At least he was charming.

“Ugh,” you groaned.

His 6’3 frame swallowed you whole, and you were wishing more than ever to just kiss that smug grin off his face. So what did you need to do? Improvise.

You pressed your body against his, and in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice, you said, “Darling? Can I please have my glasses back? I promise, if you give them to me now, later on, when we’re alone, I’m all yours—”

George thought about this for a moment. When he didn’t answer right away, you pushed yourself up on your tippy toes and kissed him sweetly. Before you knew it, he couldn’t resist—his hands were around your waist as he kissed you back, and after running one of your hands through his bright red hair, you twisted it around your back and grabbed your glasses from him. In his ear, you laughed lightly. “Ha-ha, thanks, Georgie.”

“If you weren’t so bloody cute in those things, I would’ve teased you forever,” he told you cheekily, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. “But since you asked so nicely and promised me something in return…”

You could feel him smiling into your shoulder, and you bit your lip. He pressed a kiss to your temple when you said, “I reckon I probably wouldn’t have been able to resist you regardless.”

He spun you around so you were facing him now, and he winked at you. That damn wink.

“Glad we’re thinking the same, love.”

tag list: drop me a message if you’d like to be added: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! :)

[cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc]

took a refreshing shower

now to get to work on writing an ingame georgexreader, which is what i suck at because i barely write ingame stuff. help.

good ! im proud of u :}

good luck bb <3 /p

[thatslikely]

currently working on stowaways (georgexreader) and I'm so in love I hope you guys love it so much too! it's at 2.6k words so I think it'll become my longest fic!!

it should be out soon, so stay tuned and excited! also we're close to 100 followers so please send me suggestions for how to celebrate!

love you guys <3

-krista

[girlwsoftsound]

Make Do || George Daniel Oneshot

Word Count: 2,285 Warning: Smut. Summary: “Imagine poor G trying to have sexy time with a broken collarbone and he gets frustrated cause he can only hold your hips with one hand and you can only be rough on one shoulder. 😂 Someone being this to life.” Author’s Note: This was so much fun to write, my goodness. Be sure to throw in a like or comment if you liked it! I love seeing feedback from you all. Please feel free to read my other work here! Enjoy!

“This sucks.”

Suck, it did. A week or so back, he had the misfortune of falling off the tour bus. Matty claimed he was off his ass, Ross and Adam blamed his slides, Jamie feared it was a mixture of both, but in the end George was left in the emergency room with a broken collarbone. It left a major dent in plans, especially gig-plans. While he suffered trying to get fixed up with the docs, Jamie scrambled to find a replacement. Somehow amongst all his calls, he managed to send a text to you to come quickly to the hospital. Thankfully you were nearby, the tour taking the boys only an hour or so outside of London, where you were stationed in the home you shared with the broken giant. An hour of driving brought you to the foot of your poor boyfriend’s hospital bed, in sight of his agonized and visibly upset face. He received many kisses that night, along with plenty of emotional support.

Jamie worked things out quickly, as he always seemed to do. He found a great replacement for George before he even made it home that night, which let the band at least sleep easy knowing they did not have to cancel any gigs. Of course, it was not a very big comfort for George. He still had a broken collarbone and Lord knows how long to wait for it to heal. He laid in your arms that night upset, conveying to you all his worries and fears until sleep took him. The biggest fear he had, of course, was that he would never be able to play well again. You promised him life would return back to normal before he knew it.

In some aspects, it did. He continued to follow the band on tour, mixing for the shows and partaking in more safe tour bus shenanigans. However, in other aspects, George found himself held back. He couldn’t drum, he couldn’t sleep certain ways, and he had to switch to using his other hand more, which was not as easy as he had hoped. It brought him down emotionally, putting him in a stupor that you were not quite sure you would be able to fix. You tried everything - making him ice cream, watching his favorite shows with him, hugging him extra. Nothing worked. Eventually, you decided that there was only one thing you had not resorted to yet to try and cheer him up: sex.

You had to act methodically to get George to sleep with you. Since his injury, he did not exactly have much of a drive to do anything, let alone have sex. If you were going to get him in bed, you needed to really entice him well.

The night about a week and a half out from his injury, George sat on the couch at his home rather sad. It was the first night he was not with the band, and it was really bringing him down. Slouched, he watched TV in a haze. All the while, you sat in your bedroom and plotted. You curled your hair, giving it a bit of bounce that George had mentioned in the past he enjoyed. You also switched into a fancy piece of lingerie, something you had bought once for George yet never gotten the chance to put on. It is black and lacy, covering only your breasts with thick fabric before fading into thin, see-through fabric elsewhere. That, and a pair of matching black lace underwear, made you look irresistible. A little of your vanilla lip gloss that he loved, and you were sneaking your way into the living room.

George was oblivious. He did not remotely realize you were around, so much so that when you walked in and wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, he jumped. Turning to look at you, he nearly cussed. All that came out was a mangled attempt at words though, for your appearance quickly rendered him speechless. You smirked and kissed the side of his head.

“You were looking a little lonely over here,” you purred, pausing to nibble at his ear. “I thought you might like a little distraction.”

“Mmm.”

Running your hand down his chest, you heard George sigh, a big sigh that made him visibly appear more relaxed. He tilted his head back, allowing you to nibble up and down his neck, pressing kisses where you knew he loved them most. A loan moan escaped his lips, and after your mouth left a beautiful mark just below his ear, you had done enough to get him interested. Standing up, George walked around the couch and, after taking a moment to take in your appearance, motioned for you to follow him into the bedroom with his finger. Smirking, you followed him obediently. He waited for you to sit on the bed. When you did, you sat properly, innocently, playing with his patience and restraint. He shook his head.

“You’re naughty, you know that?”

“I’m only trying to cheer you up,” you replied, a twinkle in your eye. “I have no idea what you mean by me being naughty.”

“Oh,” George murmured, stepping close enough to ball up some of your top’s fabric in his hand, “so this was by coincidence?”

“Perhaps.”

“How come I don’t see you wearing it often, then?”

You grinned, tutting at George. “So many questions. Are you going to go back out and sit in front of the telly, or are you going to do something about me?”

George’s hand firmly grabbed your arm, pushing your back down on the bed. You giggled as he knelt on other side of you. You had done it, that was for sure.

“You’re going to regret being such a little minx tonight.”

“Am I, George?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Leaning down, George went for a kiss. It was passionate - one of those kisses that leaves you lightheaded and your lips a bit sore. You leaned your hips up off of the bed to get some friction from George, eliciting a low growl from his throat. He pushed back down against you, but then grumbled and pulled his lips away from you. You frowned, seeing his passion disappear as fast as it came.

“This sucks.”

“What, love? I thought we were having fun.”

George’s face softened, but you could see him remain frustrated. “I can’t…I want to er…I want to hold you down.”

“So…hold me?”

“I’ve got only one arm love,” he explained, gazing to his other one still in a sling. “I can’t hold you like I want to because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to prop myself up off of you. You’d suffocate.”

“Kinky.”

“{Y/N}, this is serious.”

“It’s okay,” you replied, pulling him back down for a kiss. “We’ll figure this out. Let’s…ooo! Let’s find a different position to try out. Something where you aren’t so forced into control, but still have the freedom to do as you want.”

Pushing George off of you, you trotted over to your bedside table and pulled out a book. George watched in amusement as you flipped through it in search of different positions to try, nearly laughing as you scanned past images that made your eyes widen. Eventually, you stopped and smirked, satisfied with your findings. You pushed the book back into its place in the table-side drawer and walked to stand right before George. A finger of yours went to stop his pout, poking his cheek to make him laugh. When he finally broke into a chuckle, you placed your hands on his hips and kissed along his chest and arms. Those chuckles soon turned to light hums and noises that brought a smile to your face.

“Lay down, babe.”

George listened. Up him you crawled, pressing kisses all over his body as you straddled his waist. George’s unhurt hand reached to grab your waist, holding you close to him so that he could not only grind against you, but take charge like he enjoyed. You smiled against his skin, meeting his movements and peppering kisses all over. One benefit of George’s condition was his distaste to wear shirts. They were too much work to put on with his injury, which made him only agree to wear them when he needed to be outside the house. At home, he went shirtless. It made your time with him smoother for sure. You sucked on his nipple and ran your tongue along it, earning a whimper. You really were glad you had easy access.

It did not take long for you to feel George’s arousal against you. He was needy, and you knew he had a lot of pent up frustration after all that had occurred. Feeling you up against him, and knowing he would have a chance to release a lot of that frustration and stress, made it fairly easy to become aroused. You hardly minded. You loved seeing George needy like this. It made him more fun to be with. His hand gripped your waist hard, a groan escaping his lips. You hummed, running a finger down his chest.

“Is someone eager?”

“Love, please.”

Smirking, you reached to pet up and down his thigh. George grumbled in response. “You want to fuck me, George?”

“Love-”

��Say it.”

“Fine…I want to fuck you, {Y/N}.”

You smiled. “Good.”

Getting up once more, you moved your way to the end of the bed and pulled down George’s trousers. They came off easier than you thought they would, pleasing both you and George, who really did not want to struggle more because of his lack of arm. You kissed his thigh. Then, you grabbed his boxer briefs and slid them down. With them off, you could get to work.

Before you went to climb back onto him, you decided to give George a bit of fun. Bending down, you kissed up his thighs until you could kneel between his legs and have him to himself. You brought your hand to hold George’s base, and pressed a kiss to his tip. You swore his eyes rolled into his head before they fluttered shut, a low moan filling the room. Smiling, you took in just his tip, licking just below the head to drive him wild. He shifts in his spot, but you can tell his arm is making it hard for him to move how he likes. Not wishing to drive him too insane, you gave it a few strokes and then got on the side of him.

“Alright, now listen carefully to what I tell you to do,” you told him, rubbing his knee. “Fold your leg up so that your knee’s in the air and your foot is on the ground.”

“Should I put right hand blue, too?”

You smacked his thigh, causing him to laugh. “You’re an ass.”

“What do I do next?”

“Well,” you said, placing your hand on his knee, “I suppose you just…go along for the ride.”

Getting up, you moved so that you were straddling his leg, facing his knee. George hummed as you lowered down and guided him into you. Full of him, you too let out a moan. He filled you nicely, and the position did wonders for you. Moving up and down, it revealed another secret: each movement worked at your clit. George’s hand gripped you tightly as you moved up and down, pressing bruises into your body and grunting as he thrusted up to meet you. His arm was all but forgotten in that moment.

Placing your hand on his chest, you turned as he thrust into you to view him in the moment. His head was thrown back, blissed out yet scrunched up in concentration. After a moment, you watched his eyes open to look at you. You could not miss the extra oomf he gave into his thrusts after looking into your eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

You smiled, leaning to press a kiss to his knee. “Feeling good, b-babe?”

“So fucking good.”

“Mmm.”

You continued to move up and down and grind down on George, bringing grunts and moans from him and from you when he decided to meet them. Minutes passed, and then you felt a familiar heat building in your stomach. It’s almost too much, and you can feel George also losing a bit of his concentration with louder grunts emitting from him. Turning back again, you see him looking positively wrecked.

“You gonna’ cum, George?”

“F-Fuck, yeah.”

You grinned. “Cum for me, George. C’mon, babe.”

George met your challenge. Grunting, he tried his best to speed up. His thrusts dug harder into you, and he spoke a slew of encouragements to you to try and urge you further. You needed little help though, with your clit being stimulated with each thrust. In only a minute, you were gasping and whining above him. A little more encouragement from George, and suddenly you snapped. George only needed to hear his name from your lips to lose it as well, whimpering your name through grunts. As you stilled, he brought you off of him and into the crook of his unhurt shoulder. You rubbed his chest with a sigh.

“Told you we could have a little fun.”

Smiling, George pressed a kiss to your head. “Leave it to you to cheer me up.”

“You look like one side of you was absolutely ravished, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“Your neck,” you said with a giggle. “I um…I left some marks on the side you weren’t hurt on. It looks a little silly.”

Rolling his eyes, George nudged you closer to him with his hand. “Yeah well, they were worth it. Thank you.”

[georgemackayhey]

fluffy quarantine georgexreader? or reader is trying to work from home and george is bored and trying to get their attention

Yes! George is very considerate of your time and lets you work in peace most days. But somedays when you’re bored enough to work ahead, and George knows you have plenty of time spare, he cannot deal sitting idly in front of the tv when he knows you're one room away and the two of you could least of all be bored together. So he’ll come in the room and start by quietly reading to himself in the corner, but then he’ll start reading out loud, trying to get you to giggle, to tear your eyes away from your laptop screen for long enough for him to score your full attention. But you’re somehow too engrossed in whatever it is you’re doing. And George will not rest, because there is literally nothing else to do, so he makes it his personal mission to get you to stop working. So he’ll go to the kitchen and make your favorite dessert. The smell will nearly pull you away from your work, but it’s not enough. So while it bakes, George will float by the doorway asking silly questions like “where do we keep the spare coffee maker” “should we get a dog?” “two dogs? What if the first get’s lonely.” And while you laugh and give him simple answers, you’re still wrapped up. So on his seventh or eighth walk by when he’s asked what you should name the hypothetical dog he’s decided to adopt, you pick up a throw pillow near your desk and chuck it at him in the doorway. “I’m almost done!” You promise with a laugh, calling him some silly name as he laughs too. “I do hope you have a spare weapon because you’ve just started a war.” George nods, coming toward you with a pillow in the clutch. You manage to fight off his attack, sparing a kiss to settle his antics and agreeing to join him in the kitchen for your favorite dessert and a conversation about the terms and conditions for adopting a new furry friend.

Send more blurbs while I pull myself together?

[jefferson-lafayette-love-blog]

Upcoming Story

Considering it's a new year, I'm excited to start off this new blog! The first story I hope to upload is titled 'To Be A Man' which is a GeorgexReader fanfic. I'm kinda planning it to be long, so as soon as it's finished, then I'll upload the first part. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Hey, darling! Will you be giving us a sneak peek of your works in progress? I’d love to see what you’re working on. Also, can you let us know what you’re planning on publishing next? ❤️

hi, love! 😊😊 oh, I have been away for this entire week! haha sorry about that, I had a crazy-busy week (including Saturday) and so yesterday I died for the entire day 😂😂😂 but I would love to give an update! so, for a full detailed list of my current work in progress you can go here (it has been updated with newest requests and I have removed some as well since I am dead stuck with them so sorry if you don't find your favorite one anymore) buuuut what I am working as of right now... are the following:

Sirius Black: Just Give Me A Reason - Chaper 2

George Weasley: Wolves - Part 2 which centers more GeorgexReader (also, Lupin!reader)

Theodore Nott: Smile - Chapter 1 (I am so stuck with this one but I love the plot so I am trying my best to continue it)

Severus Snape: I Like Me Better - reader and Severus move in together

I really hope to have something up between today and tomorrow, I will be going away from Wednesday to Saturday so, if I don't it won't be until Sunday 😁😁😁😁