St4rg1rlsworld

⨳ CALL OF DUTY EDITION ⨳

All works belong to @silverlullabies do not copy or translate my work, feed into ai, or claim as your own

All works are 18+, minors do not interact

✧ Day 1: Bondage - Price ver.1 ; ver.2 (noncon)

✧ Day 2: Breath play - Graves

✧ Day 3: Orgasm Denial - Keegan

✧ Day 4: Sensory Deprivation - Task Force 141

✧ Day 5: Sex Pollen - Soap

✧ Day 6: Knife Play - Ghost

✧ Day 7: Gloryhole - König

✧ Day 8: Sharing - Price and Nikolai

✧ Day 9: Creampie/Breeding - Soap

✧ Day 10: Cockwarming - Price

✧ Day 11: A/B/O - Makarov

✧ Day 12: Filthy Talk - Nikolai

✧ Day 13: Distracted Sex - Price

✧ Day 14: Sthenolagnia - Ghost

✧ Day 15: Overstimulation - Gaz

✧ Day 16: Exhibitionism - Graves

✧ Day 17: Mirror Sex - Price

✧ Day 18: Facefucking - König

✧ Day 19: Somnophilia - Soap

✧ Day 20: Temperature - Valeria

✧ Day 21: Double Penetration- Soap/Ghost

✧ Day 22: Public Sex - Alejandro

✧ Day 23: Crying - Graves

✧ Day 24: Brat Taming - Price

✧ Day 25: Hate Sex - Ghost

✧ Day 26: Marking - Gaz

✧ Day 27: Free Use - Soap

✧ Day 28: Phone Sex - Price

✧ Day 29: Pet Play - Makarov

✧ Day 30: Sex in Dangerous Environments - Ghost

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred won’t share you. A slip of the tongue, a name you didn’t mean, and suddenly everything explodes — jealousy, anger, desire. He claims you, and neither of you can resist. A heated argument becomes a wild, unrestrained night where boundaries vanish and passion takes over.

Warnings: Mature content / Smut / Strong language / Jealousy & possessive behavior / Emotional intensity

You were already close when it started.

Too close to think clearly.

Fred’s hands rested on your waist, thumbs tracing slow, absent-minded patterns as if he had nowhere else to be, as if this was the most natural place in the world. You leaned into him without thinking, drawn by the familiar warmth, the quiet crackle of tension that always sparked when he looked at you like that — amused, intent, entirely focused.

His lips brushed yours once, then again, deeper this time. Unhurried. Confident. Like he had all the time in the world.

You smiled into the kiss.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your mouth, voice low, roughened just enough to make your pulse jump.

“I’m right here,” you whispered back.

His hands slid higher, then lower again, teasing, grounding. He kissed along your jaw, your cheek, then down the side of your neck, slow and deliberate, like he was mapping familiar territory he never tired of exploring.

You sighed, head tipping back without thinking, giving him access.

“Fred…” you breathed.

He hummed softly, pleased, lips lingering at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s it.”

The room felt smaller. Warmer. Like the rest of the castle had faded away.

His mouth moved lower, kisses unspooling down your neck, unhurried but purposeful. One of his hands slipped beneath the edge of your shirt, fingers warm against your skin, making you shiver despite yourself.

Your thoughts blurred.

Your body reacted faster than your brain could keep up.

And then—

“Ced—”

The sound left your mouth before you could stop it.

Before you could even realize what you’d said.

Everything stopped.

Fred froze.

His lips left your skin. His hand stilled. The warmth vanished so suddenly it felt like stepping into cold air after fire.

Silence filled the space between you — thick, heavy, unmistakable.

Slowly, Fred pulled back just enough to look at you.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

You blinked, still dazed, heat flushing your face. “What?” You frowned, confused. “I—what do you mean?”

His jaw tightened.

“What,” he repeated, slower now, sharper, “did you just say?”

Understanding hit you like ice water.

Your stomach dropped.

“I—” You swallowed hard. “Fred, I didn’t mean—”

“What. The fuck. Did you say?” His voice rose this time, disbelief cutting through it like a blade.

Your heart hammered painfully in your chest. “It was a mistake,” you rushed out. “I swear. I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, pulling his hands away completely now, stepping back as if distance was the only thing keeping him from losing control. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

You sat up fully, panic creeping in. “It’s just—Cedric’s been helping me study lately, and he’s been around so much and my head’s been full and it didn’t mean anything, Fred. Nothing. Please.”

He stared at you like you’d struck him.

“So he’s in your head,” Fred said flatly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

You shook your head quickly. “It was a name. A slip. That’s all. It doesn’t change anything.”

Fred let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t moan someone else’s name by accident.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

“I want you,” you said, voice shaking now. “I’m here with you.”

“And that’s the problem,” he snapped. “If I’m here with you, I don’t want anyone else anywhere near your thoughts.”

You stared at him, stunned. “So what, you’re just… stopping?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Absolutely.”

Your chest tightened. “Fred—”

“No,” he cut in, running a hand through his hair, agitation written all over him. “I’m not doing this. I’m not sleeping with you while you’ve got another bloke rattling around in your head.”

“That’s not fair.”

He looked at you sharply. “Neither is that.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

“If it passes,” he continued, voice lower, controlled with effort, “if you figure out whatever this is — then fine. Come find me.” His gaze met yours, wounded and stubborn all at once. “But I’m not sharing you. Not even like this.”

Then he stepped back, putting physical space where intimacy had been seconds before.

You sat there, stunned, heart pounding, anger flaring hot and fast beneath the shock.

“You’re overreacting,” you said, voice tight.

Fred’s mouth twisted. “Maybe. But at least I know whose name I’m saying.”

He turned away before you could answer.

And just like that, the warmth was gone — replaced with something sharp, unresolved, and aching.

You didn’t chase him.

And he didn’t look back.

The next day was worse.

Fred was still Fred — laughing too loudly at breakfast, leaning back in his chair like the world had never offended him once. He joked with Lee, stole someone’s toast, flashed that effortless grin that used to be yours.

Just not at you.

When his eyes met yours, something shut down. The smile vanished. His jaw tightened. He looked away.

You didn’t speak either.

You told yourself you were right. You hadn’t done anything wrong. A name wasn’t betrayal. Not really. Still, by the third day, the tension sat behind your eyes like a headache you couldn’t shake.

You noticed everything.

How he never sat near you. How he never reached for you. How, according to Lee, Fred had started sitting next to some girl in class — someone you didn’t even know.

The jealousy surprised you with its violence.

So when Cedric found you that afternoon, it felt like relief — unfair, unwanted, but real.

“Hey,” he said gently, holding up a stack of notes. “I thought you might want help with this part. I’ve got time.”

He smiled the way he always did — kind, steady, unthreatening.

You hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You sat together, talking, flipping pages. It was easy. Too easy. Like slipping into a familiar rhythm.

Then his hand brushed yours.

Once — accidental, you told yourself.

Again.

And again.

When you pulled your hands into your lap, his knee touched yours under the table, lingering just long enough to make your spine stiffen. His gaze held yours a second longer than friendly required.

Something was wrong.

You stood abruptly. “I—sorry. I just remembered I need to—something. I should go.”

Cedric blinked. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “I just—later, okay?”

You left before he could answer.

You were halfway down the corridor when someone shouted your name.

You turned.

Cedric jogged toward you, slightly out of breath, holding your notebook. “You forgot this.”

“Oh. Right.” You took it — and his fingers stayed wrapped around yours a moment too long.

You flushed.

He noticed.

His expression shifted — softened, sharpened, emboldened all at once.

“I heard some things,” he said carefully. “People saying you and Fred… aren’t together anymore.”

Your stomach dropped. “Who said that?”

He shrugged. “I just thought—since we’ve known each other so long… And I’d be lying if I said you haven’t been on my mind for a long time, Y/N. I really like you—”

He leaned in.

And before you could react—

“Oi! Diggory!”

Fred’s voice cracked through the corridor like a whip.

Cedric froze.

Fred stormed toward you, fury rolling off him in waves. “Have you lost your mind? Or do you always go after girls who aren’t yours?”

Cedric straightened. “I thought she was free.”

Fred laughed sharply. “Thought wrong.”

He stepped between you without hesitation. “Just because our dads get on doesn’t mean I’ll like you if you don’t learn one thing.” His eyes were ice-cold. “You don’t touch what’s mine.”

Cedric opened his mouth.

“Do it again,” Fred finished, voice low and dangerous, “and I’ll rearrange that pretty face.”

Fred grabbed your hand and pulled you away before Cedric could reply.

You didn’t resist.

Back in the common room, eyes followed you. Whispers sparked. Fred didn’t care.

He dragged you into his room, shut the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

Fred didn’t shout at first.

That was almost worse.

He paced once, then turned to you, hands planted on his hips like he was trying to physically hold himself together. His jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, “Do you have any idea,” he said slowly, “how that looked?”

You scoffed. “I didn’t do anything.”

His laugh was sharp, disbelieving. “You didn’t do anything,” he repeated. “You let him! Like I didn’t exist.”

“That’s not fair,” you shot back immediately. “You’re the one who acted like I didn’t exist for three days.”

Fred stopped pacing.

His eyes snapped to yours. “Because I was angry.”

“And I wasn’t?” Your voice cracked despite yourself. “You walked away from me. You didn’t even ask what it meant — you just decided I wasn’t worth staying for.”

“That’s bullshit,” he snapped. “I asked. You brushed it off.”

“Because I made a little mistake and you acted like it was a crime.” you fired back.

Fred dragged a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. “It wasn’t just a 'little' mistake. It was personal.”

You swallowed. “I said his name once.”

“Once was enough,” he said immediately. “You’re minimizing it because facing it would mean admitting you crossed a line.”

“Do you know how that felt?,” he said lowly. “To hear another man’s name when I was touching you? When I thought we were—” He stopped himself, jaw clenching. “When I thought I had all of you.”

You opened your mouth — then stopped.

“No,” he continued, voice lower now, more dangerous. “Don’t brush it off. Don’t pretend it’s nothing. Because it is something. It’s humiliating. It’s like being told I wasn’t really there with you at all.”

Your throat tightened. You looked away.

“I wasn’t thinking,” you said quietly.

“That’s the problem,” he snapped. “I was. Every second.”

The air felt too thick to breathe.

“I wanted you,” he continued, quieter now, rough with restraint. “I chose you. And in that moment, I realized I wasn’t the only one in your head.”

You stepped closer despite yourself. “You’re right,” you said, forcing the words out. “It was wrong. If the roles were reversed… I’d have lost my mind.”

Fred’s shoulders dropped just a fraction.

“I didn’t pull away to punish you,” he said roughly. “I pulled away because if I stayed, I would’ve said something I couldn’t take back.”

That broke something in you.

You stepped closer. “I never wanted anyone else. I was overwhelmed. He was around all the time. It didn’t mean—”

“It mattered,” Fred said, cutting in. “Because I love you.”

“You scared me,” you whispered.

He nodded once. “You scared me too.”

And for the first time in days, when Fred looked at you, he didn’t look away.

He held your gaze like he was daring you to flinch first — like he was staking a claim without saying a word. Then, slowly, deliberately, he stepped into your space until there was nowhere left to retreat.

His hand came up, firm at your jaw, tilting your face back to meet his eyes.

“Say it again,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught. “Say what?”

“That you’re here,” he replied. “With me.”

“I’m here,” you whispered. “With you.”

Something dark and relieved flickered across his face.

“Good,” he murmured — and then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle this time.

It was hungry. Controlled. Like days of restraint snapping all at once.

His mouth claimed yours fully, unyielding, his hand still at your jaw, thumb pressing just enough to make your pulse jump. You melted into it, fingers clutching at his shirt like you needed the anchor.

He backed you up without breaking the kiss, step by step, until the edge of the bed hit the backs of your legs.

Fred broke away just long enough to say, low and certain, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Then he pushed you down.

Not roughly — decisively.

He followed you immediately, body crowding yours, solid and warm, the weight of him grounding and unmistakable. One knee pressed between yours, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His hand slid to your waist, fingers digging in like he was reminding himself you were real.

You gasped when his mouth found your neck.

“This,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough, “is mine.”

Your hands slid up his back, nails grazing skin, and he groaned softly at the contact — a sound that sent heat straight through you.

He kissed you like he was reclaiming something he’d been afraid of losing. Slow, deep, relentless. Every touch deliberate. Every movement sure.

When his forehead rested against yours, his breath was uneven.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did.

His expression softened just a fraction — enough to make your chest ache.

“There you are,” he murmured. “That’s who I want. No one else.”

Your answer was lost when he kissed you again, deeper this time, hands roaming, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you at all.

The room seemed to fade — the world narrowing to heat and breath and the way his body fit against yours like it always had.

His mouth lingered at your ear.

“Stay,” he whispered.

You did.

And the door stayed closed long after the fire burned low.

Later the fire crackled softly as you sat curled on the sofa, knees tucked beneath you, staring into the flames more than actually reading the book in your hands. Your body was pleasantly tired, your thoughts finally calm.

“Y/N?”

Ginny’s voice was careful. Hesitant.

You looked up.

She stood a few steps away, arms folded loosely over her chest, her expression a mix of concern and uncertainty — not teasing, not playful. Worried.

“Hey,” you said softly. “What’s wrong?”

She exhaled, clearly relieved that you didn’t look upset — but still not convinced. She moved closer and sat on the arm of the sofa.

“I just wanted to check on you,” she said. “About you and Fred.”

Your stomach dipped. “Okay…”

“I was walking past his room earlier,” Ginny continued, lowering her voice, “and I heard you shout. Like—really shout.”

You stiffened.

“And,” she added quickly, “I’m not judging, I swear — I just… you sounded upset. And you used the F-word. Very loudly.”

Your face went warm instantly.

Ginny noticed — and frowned. “See? That’s exactly why I’m asking. Are you two okay? Because it didn’t sound like a normal argument.”

You hesitated for half a second — then let out a breathy laugh.

“Oh,” you said. “Ginny.”

Her eyes widened. “That wasn’t a fight?”

“No,” you said, mortified but smiling now. “It really, really wasn’t.”

She blinked. “So you weren’t yelling at him?”

“Nope.”

“…at all?”

You shook your head. “Different kind of situation.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Ginny’s lips parted slightly. “Oh.”

You nodded, burying your face in your book. “Yeah.”

Ginny stared at the fire for a second, processing — then groaned softly and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh my God,” she muttered. “I was worried sick.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, laughing quietly. “I didn’t realize—”

“I thought he’d made you cry,” she went on. “Or that something awful happened. I was halfway through writing a letter to my mum..”

You peeked at her. “Please don’t.”

She dropped her hands and looked at you again — this time, finally smiling. “So… everything’s okay?”

You nodded, warmth settling comfortably in your chest. “Yeah. We’re okay.”

Ginny sighed in relief. “Good. Because for a second there, I was ready to hex my own brother.”

You snorted. “That’s fair.”

She stood, shaking her head. “Next time,” she said dryly, “maybe keep the language down a bit.”

You groaned. “Ginny!”

She grinned over her shoulder. “I’m just saying — ‘Oh my fucking—’ echoes more than you think.”