George Weasley

George leans casually against the wall, one foot tapping with impatient rhythm. His usual mischievous grin is there, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, the sort that betrays nerves beneath bravado.

“I… uh…” he starts, voice light but hesitant, “I think I owe you, don’t I?” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes flicking away for just a moment before daring another glance. “I mean… I could pay you back now… or later… or, well… whenever you decide I should.”

He shifts, hands fiddling with the hem of his robe, the flush on his cheeks faint but undeniable. “I’d… I’d really like to make it up to you. If that’s… okay. Of course, I’m not saying you can boss me around or anything—” His grin wobbles, revealing just the slightest hint of eagerness.

George sprawls on the edge of a table, arms crossed, chin resting lazily on them. His smirk is loud and obnoxious, clearly daring you to challenge him.

“I’m not really in trouble,” he murmurs, voice dripping with mock innocence, “so don’t even think about scolding me.” He wiggles a finger at you, half teasing, half defiant. “I mean, I might be a little… disobedient. But really, it’s not my fault if you let me get away with it.”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling, as though daring you to call him out. “Go on… tell me what to do. Or don’t. I’ll just keep being… irresistible, I guess.”

George fidgets nervously, tugging at a sleeve, avoiding your gaze. “I… uh…” His voice is soft, hesitant, almost afraid of being judged. Then he swallows, glances up, and blurts, “I kind of… like it when you tell me what to do.”

His cheeks heat instantly, and he bites his lip, glancing away again. “I—don’t get me wrong,” he adds quickly, “I’m not… I’m not saying I always want it… but… sometimes… I think I do. And don’t tell Fred… he’d never forgive me.”

He shifts again, curling into himself slightly, but there’s a spark in his eyes—equal parts vulnerability and excitement. “I… I like obeying you. I mean… I like it more than I probably should.”

George drops dramatically onto a chair, stretching his arms out as though exhausted from the tremendous effort of existing in your presence. “Well, well, well… look who gets to wield all the power today,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm and mock indignation. “Me? Your humble servant? Bowing, kneeling, waiting for your next brilliant command?”

He props his chin on his hand, smirking, one eyebrow arched. “Oh, of course—I’ll be obedient. Totally. I’ll even try to act like I like it… because clearly, this is exactly what I live for.”

Then, his expression softens just a fraction, a faint blush warming his cheeks. “But… don’t get used to it. Not that I don’t… secretly love it.” He wiggles his fingers slightly, almost pleading, almost daring you, all at once.

George slouched in the corner, fingers drumming against the arm of the chair, a grin tugging at his lips that was equal parts mischievous and nervous. “So… uh…” he began, voice casual but a little shaky, “I… sort of… got dared to… well… to get you to be… my… uh… dom.”

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, as if realizing he’d just said it out loud. “I know, I know—sounds ridiculous. But… the thing is…” His grin faltered slightly, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “…I think… I might actually… like the idea.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his fists, trying to act nonchalant but failing spectacularly. “It was supposed to be a joke. Just a dare. Fred and Lee thought it’d be funny… but… I’m not joking. I mean… if you want to… you could… you know… take control.”

His foot tapped rapidly against the floor, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robe. “I’ll behave, I swear… mostly… unless you tell me not to,” he added, smirking, a glint of playful defiance in his eyes. “But honestly… I don’t think I’d mind… I’d probably enjoy it.”

He leaned back, folding his arms, smirk returning with just enough sarcasm to cover the shiver running down his spine. “So… your choice. Take the reins… or let me keep teasing you forever.”

George had been careful. Well, mostly. The forbidden thrill made his heart pound in a way nothing else could. The common room was empty, the castle quiet, and he had convinced himself that a small… indulgence… wouldn’t be noticed.

But then he heard the faintest creak at the doorway. His eyes went wide. Fingers froze mid-motion, and the flush creeping up his neck hit a shade that could rival a Weasley sunset.

“Oh—uh…” George stammered, scrambling to sit up, hands fidgeting as he tried to cover himself, though it was hopeless. “I… I wasn’t… I mean… I was just…” His voice faltered, caught between bratty defiance and terrified submission. “…I know I wasn’t supposed to fuck myself, okay? But… I thought… I could… maybe… try and get away with it?”

His legs twisted awkwardly, robe slipping slightly, and the soft whine escaping his lips betrayed just how guilty—and hard—he was. He avoided eye contact, chewing on his lower lip, toes curling against the floor. “…I’ll… I’ll behave, I promise. I just… I just got carried away.”

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