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dilvei · 5 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ( y! emperor x m! assassin reader )

yandere! emperor x male! assassin reader

warnings:

attempted murder

attempted poisoning

mentions of torture

some dubcon tumble & kissing in the sheets ey

directory: part one, part two [ coming soon ]

this definitely could've gone to a much, much darker route but instead it turned out kind of cute(?). i once had a similar idea to this one but as like a longer fic but i don't have the time for that so eat this instead y'all ��🌈

requested by @n4muqr

✾ | much is unknown of the current reigning emperor, dimitri, and what little is known about him is all rather rudimentary, really—merely the common knowledge shared and repeated by most already.

✾ | for instance, it is often said by the masses that dimitri is akin to a sleeping lion. a calm and quiet presence... until a single misstep is made in his presence, prompting his unbridled fury. the emperor does not merely desire perfection, he demands it with an almost relentless, crazed fervor. the emperor will not— cannot simply stand by when something in his vicinity does not reach that impeccable state.

✾ | another topic, oftenly brought up, is his cruelty. the amount of enemies dimitri has amassed on his path to the throne is not few, and those who remain are, well, tortured and tormented inside the cold dungeons for as long as they draw breath.

✾ | but none of those rumors are the ones that pique your interest in the emperor. no. what fascinates you about dimitri is the fact that he has yet to marry, and has remained so for several years of his reign, much to the utter bewilderment of his own people and his own court.

✾ | and the reason for it is so ridiculous that, the first time you heard it, you nearly topple over from laughter. the emperor is unmarried not because he is unattractive or ugly—the opposite really, if the rumors are to be believed—but because he deems that there is no one perfect enough yet to stand by his side. ridiculous, really. but what is an emperor if he is not arrogant?

✾ | still, the fact that there is no direct heir to the throne due to this is utterly hilarious to you. even more comical is the moment when, one day, you are given the task to assassinate said emperor.

✾ | you hold no loyalty for powerful men like dimitri, especially when they are reputed to be arrogant fools. and yet, curiosity stirs within you as to who issued such an order, for you are certain that you are not the only one sent to assassinate dimitri. his little brother perhaps? he is, after all, next in line to the throne.

✾ | a day after you receive the task, you simply... wait, and you remain waiting even as news of failed assassination attempts after another reaches your ears. not one assassin has succeeded, and it baffles you, really; it is either due to the emperor's extreme luck or, perhaps, his perfectionism has extended to other aspects of his life—namely, the protection that surrounds him.

✾ | so, you plan. disguising one's self to infiltrate the palace would take too long, and the likelihood of success is slim, especially given dimitri’s vigilant eye monitoring everyone’s movements. in the end, only one course of action comes to mind.

✾ | in the dead of night, you silently scale the towering walls of the palace—walls too high for most, surely, but easily surmountable for someone like you. with a mask covering the lower half of your face and more daggers than one should be permitted to carry, you ascend with ease.

✾ | landing on the balcony with barely a sound, you smile as you successfully arrive at the chambers of the arrogant emperor dimitri.

✾ | lock picking the door inside is awfully easy, and as you step into the bedroom that is almost suffocating with its golden splendor, you finally see him. you see the emperor.

✾ | dimitri is in bed, unguarded, with eyes closed and lips parted, so breathtaking to behold that, for a moment, you forget you are here to kill him, to murder him.

✾ | as you edge closer to his still body, you observe the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each soft breath. how his golden eyelashes flutter as the cold night air sweeps in from the open balcony window. it seems almost a waste to kill such beauty.

✾ | and just as you brandish your cold dagger to his neck, your other hand ready to silence his dying cries, dimitri's eyes shoot wide open, an icy gaze staring directly into you.

✾ | despite only just waking, the emperor is fast, sharp and alert, and in a blink, dimitri has already swiftly caught both your wrists with his hands in a vice-like grip, rendering you motionless as you both stare into each other’s eyes in tense silence.

"You shouldn’t be up at such an hour, Your Majesty,” you slowly quip with narrowed eyes, breaking the silence between you as you struggle to free your hands from Dimitri’s grip. Your efforts are futile; his hold on you tightens further.

No doubt, that bruises will soon bloom like dark flowers on your skin, assuming, that is, Dimitri ever lets go of his grip.

With an almost empty sharpness in his gaze, Dimitri inches his face closer to yours, his expression thin as he responds, “And you, should not wander as you wish in your emperor’s chambers. Wherever did you learn your manners, stranger?”

"Well, certainly not around here, Your Majesty.” You let out a sharp laugh before kneeing him in the stomach. But, to your surprise, you flinch instead of the emperor. It feels as though... you just kneed a solid rock.

At your failed attempt, Dimitri merely raises a brow and sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. “I must admit, this is a first. No assassin thus far has attempted to climb my palace walls only to knee me in the stomach. I must say, you do make a memorable first impression.”

"I'm flattered, Your Majesty," you say with a faux smile as you continue to struggle against his grip. Another sigh escapes the Emperor's lips.

Suddenly, perhaps finally finding himself tired of your antics, Dimitri pulls you towards him with a firm grip, effortlessly throwing you onto his bed, pinning you under him with only a hand as though you weigh nothing.

Well now, this is bad.

Dimitri hovers above you, his warm breath caressing your neck, his gaze piercing you with a cold, steely silence. Then— he rips off your mask, revealing your complete face, twisted with frustration; Dimitri's eyes seem to gleam as he notices it.

"Must you really rip it off?"

"It obscured my view of your face, oh assassin. Your mask was a hindrance to us both," he answers, voice as smooth as velvet. With his free hand, and an empty gaze that all but screams danger, Dimitri’s fingertips softly caress your face before slowly, but surely, descending to your neck. You gulp.

Before he can act in a way you do not desire—specifically, choking you lifeless beneath him—you lean forward, rising to press your lips against his in desperation.

Not for his mercy, no—heavens, no. Your lips are coated in poison, a venom strong enough to probably lull a lion into instant slumber, and soon, will render Dimitri paralyzed as well.

Unsurprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly—because you’ve seen it, seen the hint of desire brimming inside his eyes, a flicker that escapes the mask the Emperor puts on—Dimitri kisses you back. And if your swift brush of lips could ever be labeled as a kiss, then what Dimitri unleashed upon you could only be deemed a ravage.

He wastes no time slipping his tongue past your lips, savoring and exploring your mouth as one might indulge in a delectable, forbidden fruit. Despite your efforts, you find yourself drawn into his passion, grappling beneath him as he intensifies the kiss with each passing moment, as though melding your bodies together.

There is no room to breathe, and your head reels from the lack of air.

A bruising grip is placed on your waist as Dimitri somehow deepens the kiss further, his tongue exploring every inch of you, and as you attempt to pull away, he presses forward, biting your lip almost as a form of punishment.

A low whine escapes your throat, seemingly satisfying Dimitri as he hums softly into your mouth. Then, finally, ever so finally, he ends the kiss, leaving you gasping for air.

Tears well in your eyes as you gaze up at him, a half-smirk playing on his lips while he hovers above you, still gripping both your wrists firmly in his single hand, still unaffected by the poison after how much time has passed. How... is this be possible? Is Dimitri perhaps immune to such poison?

As realization washes over you, the half-smirk on Dimitri’s face transforms into a full one. "The poison on your lips is sweet, oh assassin," he whispers, "but in my opinion, the kiss is far, far sweeter."

"You...!"

As you prepare to kick the Emperor in his groin out of extreme frustration, he releases his grip on you, rising from the bed before straightening his attire. "You have passed, my assassin. And henceforth, you will serve me, and me alone," he announces, voice ringing clear inside your head.

You blink, letting his words sink in before narrowing your eyes at Dimitri, who is now sitting languidly on one of his many comfortable chairs in the room. “Just what are you talking about?” His words make little sense, and you feel an undying urge to hurl the nearest object right at his face.

"Who do you think orchestrated the countless assassinations on my dear self, oh assassin of mine? I seek only the finest, and while I knew no one could truly ever succeed in killing me, thus far, your attempt has been the closest."

You push yourself off the bed, striding towards him with your fists clenched. "This is all beyond ridiculous. Do you have any idea how many of us were tasked to end your life?"

"I do."

You cross your arms with a sigh. "So, what now? Is my task over?" The room is far too cold now after you have tasted the warmth that is your Emperor, and your job is clearly over, now that you have, somehow, been forcefully given a new one instead.

Dimitri responds, "You are to be my assassin. I will point the way, and you will obediently follow, with no questions asked. To kill whomever I send you to kill, to dispose of their bodies with no witnesses in sight, and to return to me when I have need of you. Is that clear?"

You roll your eyes at his arrogant tone but then nod obligingly upon seeing the slightest hint of anger in his expression. "Yes, yes. Is there anything else you require of me, Your Majesty? If not, I will be taking my leave now."

"Remain still,” he commands, and a distant part of you screams in frustration as your body effortlessly complies. He approaches you slowly, offering a small smile before placing your mask back over your face.

"When we are alone, just the two of us, I expect you to address me by my given name, my assassin.” He pauses then, lifting your chin with a finger. You tense.

"And...?" you ask back, your voice shaky.

The Emperor’s gaze flickers towards your lips, concealed beneath the mask, as he issues his last command. “That last method of yours. I forbid you from employing it on anyone else,” he muses, tightening his grip on your chin, almost painfully so.

“Your lips are reserved solely for mine.”

#👑 | ✦ ∘° DIMITRI !!!#dilvei.writes #yandere emperor #yandere x male reader #yandere male x male reader #x male reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere core #banner by cafekitsune

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grandline-fics · 3 months ago

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Can I ask for some luffy x femreader angst where they get knocked off the sunny and can't swim? Your writing is so good

DESCRIPTION: You get knocked off of the ship

WARNINGS: angst, comfort, good ending

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 1,322

A/N: Who can say no to some angst? Thank you for this request. I hadn't intended it to be this long but I'm happy with the result and hope you are too.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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Nothing is ever straightforward or as it truly seems on the Grand Line, anyone who goes there with that belief are swiftly taught the harsh lessons. If they are strong and adaptable enough then they get another day on the waters. If they aren’t? Then they either join the many ships and skeletons that are scattered beneath the waves or allowed to return to safer seas with their tails between their legs and dreams of adventures and fame broken along with their pride. As much as the Strawhats, and more-so their Captain are impulsive and quick to race headlong into their adventures, they respect the seas under Nami’s strict guidance. “It’s looking clear now but once we cross the boundary of the next island’s atmosphere it’ll most likely change.”

You all nodded at her warning, Nami was never wrong with these things. So when she made a statement like that you knew knew to make the most of the clear skies, bright sun, and calm sea now while you all could. As soon as you approached the boundary you would all be on guard until you knew for certain what the next island would bring you all. You stretched out from your spot on your deckchair and slowly sat up with a slow yawn building in your chest. You could have stayed lounging for a while longer but knew you were dangerously close to falling asleep, something you wanted to avoid just in case the next stretch of the journey required all hands on deck. Needing to stay alert you began to walk around in search of something to occupy you.

There was no motivation to train in you just at the moment and it was too nice of a day to wander to the kitchen or go below deck to the library or bar. As you casually scanned the ship your gaze zeroed in on Luffy as he perched happily on Sunny’s head, his legs swinging lightly as his body all but vibrated with excitement. Nami’s mention of crossing the island’s boundary soon meant it would only be a matter of time before the island came into view and the next part of everyone’s adventure would continue. You couldn’t help but smile at Luffy’s infectious enthusiasm. “You bounce anymore you could fall into the ocean, Captain.”

Luffy laughed at your teasing voice and turned to grin brightly at you. Almost immediately he moved his seat to allow you the room to sit comfortably on the lion’s head with him. When you joined him, Luffy’s smile grew wider. Together you both talked happily about what you thought the next island would bring, guessing what there was to explore and see. You only broke the conversation when you felt that the sun had gotten a little dimmer than it had been and felt the ship lightly sway. Had the water gotten choppier? “We should probably head onto the deck. I think we’re nearly in the new territory.” You began as you slowly got to your feet again. The Sunny jolted as it hit a rougher swell of a wave and you swayed but managed to regain your balance. “The water’s changing fast, c’mon Luffy.”

Luffy nodded and reluctantly bounced to his feet. Ordinarily he would have just remained on Sunny’s head until the end but with you here, it made him just cautious enough to prioritise your safety over his lack of thought for his own. Luffy stepped behind you and planted a hand on your shoulder when another rocky wave surged the ship only this one was accompanied with a strong gust of wind. As expected Nami launched into action, calling for everyone to get to their positions as the storm rolled in seemingly from nowhere. “Luffy! We need you to-”

Usopp’s shout was swallowed by a shriek of wind but the beginning of his call was enough to snap Luffy’s attention for the briefest of seconds. At the same time an enormous wave slammed against the starboard side of the ship, showering seawater over you all and with enough force to tilt and rock the ship upwards and sideways at once. With Luffy distracted and the violent lurching of the Sunny, the two of you tumbled. Acting only on instinct you managed to grab a hold of Luffy’s collar and throw him onto the safety of the deck. However you were unable to save yourself and fell backwards into the darkening, swirling waters.

Luffy scrambled to his feet, yelling out your name as he leant over the railing of the Sunny, eyes desperately searching the violent waves in search for you.You weren’t the strongest swimmer in the crew but even the likes of Sanji would have struggled to break through the surface in water like this. Sharply he turned to his crew who only just realised what had happened. “Jinbe! Save them!” His order was sharp and held none of his usual cheer. The helmsman wasted no time in leaping into the water while Luffy returned his panicked gaze to the water. “Come on…”

The seconds were an agonising wait, drawing out to the point it felt like an eternity. He didn't even know he’d been painfully holding his breath until Jinbe’s figure broke through the water and landed back onto the deck with you held securely in his arms. Chopper reached you first and took you into his care swiftly. When you let out a choking breath and rolled onto your side, Luffy was on you in an instant, hugging you tight and lifting you off the ground. Even when Chopper yelled at him to be gentle and let you go, Luffy only loosened his hold but still kept you in his grip; his eyes were steely and fixed only on you.

“Luffy…I’m okay. Promise.” You spoke weakly and your hand reached out to touch his cheek, hating to see him so serious. Quickly you pulled your hand back when he flinched at the touch, fearing you’d overstepped with the usually affectionate Captain. It wasn’t your touch that Luffy took issue with, it was that your skin was so cold. Quickly he pulled you to your room and nudged you inside, only now letting your go fully. “You need to change.”

To hear Luffy so insistent and serious was something you weren’t used to but you could see the worry in his face and while you couldn’t speak you nodded and grabbed fresh clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to dry off and change. When you reappeared you paused to see Luffy pacing, a literal ball of nervous energy and biting the inside of his mouth harshly. This wasn’t the Luffy you knew and you could tell his thoughts were spiralling with memories he never liked to dwell on. With a small sigh you set your hand on his arm and pulled him to sit comfortably on your bed before settling down beside him, facing him fully. “Luffy, I’m safe. This isn’t like you.”

“You’re still cold…” Luffy mumbled, his eyes glancing down at your hand on his arm. He hated this feeling that was twisting in his body uncomfortably. Even worse he hated seeing you worry about him. With a frown he grabbed the blanket from your bed and wrapped it around your body tightly before pulling you close, his hands rubbing against your arm and back. Part of him told him it was just to get you warmed up. Another part of him felt it was for his unshakable selfishness of reassuring himself that you’re only safe with him. Then when you sank further into his hold and closed your eyes, Luffy felt himself finally begin to relax. Nothing was ever straightforward on the Grand Line, for one thing it could make a nasty way of making people have a closer look at their feelings whether they had been initially aware of it or not.

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

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pampushky · 4 months ago

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Foot of The Gallows

trafalgar d. water law/reader - friends to enemies to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation (not by law)

ao3 link | masterlist | ask away

Trafalgar D. Water Law is a surgeon centuries ahead of his time and is set to be put to death for alleged witchcraft and dark magic, although there’s little evidence besides the fact that his patients all seem to survive, and the pale white splotches that dapple his skin, marking his face with the pattern of a skull. You’re a former childhood friend, now bittered with age and arguments, simply trying to make your living as an apothecary, wanting nothing to do with the man you had once been joined at the hip with. What happens when his closest friend manages to convince you to save his life by invoking a little-used law, saved only for cases where the justice system has failed?

You marry the man you utterly detest, that’s what happens.

Chapter Directory

sunshroom

thunder root

numbing nettle

snowdrop iris

lion's bane

willow tears

#series masterlist #trafalgar law #one piece fanfiction #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece x reader #one piece x you #law x you #law x yn #one piece x y/n #one piece insert #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers really #ao3 #not actually unrequited love #trafalgar one piece #soulmate au too ig

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luvfy0dor · 10 months ago

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“High Tide Came and Brought You in ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; minimal cursing, perhaps ooc

Description; BSD men taking their partner on an aquarium date!

A/n; I haven't really gotten inspiration for the ask I was working on, so I hope this suffices for now 3: this post

Chuuya Nakahara ♡

ೃ⁀➷

It was no mystery that Chuuya loved to take you out on exquisite dates- he felt that the two of you deserved to relax and enjoy a day or night out every now and again. He liked to bring you places where you've never been and give you experiences that you don't get every day, even if it's not fancy. If you asked, he would bring you to The Cheesecake Factory (because apparently it's not fancy enough for some people.) He just cares that you get a good experience and you both leave happy.

Today he wanted to bring you to an aquarium. You dressed yourself appropriately and joined him in the car, where he smiled and leaned over the center console to give you a kiss. You happily returned it with your hand on his cheek before pulling away and returning to your seated position. "Do you think they'll let us pet the stingrays?" You asked, pulling down the sun visor and opening the mirror to briefly look at yourself. "Probably." He replied, backing out of the parking space and driving off into the road. "It'd be real cool if they did." You nodded in agreement.

"Aren't they slimy?" You asked while watching other cars out the window. "I guess we'll find out." You laughed softly and filled your mind with thoughts of the fish to hype yourself up. Aside from the stingray, you wanted to walk through the tunnel that was built through one of the tanks. Watching the sharks and other aquatic animals swimming in front of you was cool, but overhead? That was even cooler. The aquarium wasn't far, so it didn't surprise you when your thoughts were cut short by the car turning into the large parking lot. Chuuya searched through the columns of cars while the both of you searched for a space. You found one and pointed it out to him before the both of you got out of the car and started towards the aquarium. He held your hand while while you walked through the parking lot and while standing in line.

"Look at this, darlin', they got a whole section just for jellyfish." He says, pointing to a paragraph in the pamphlet as the last person in front of them finished paying. He handed it to you and stepped forward, pulling out his wallet to get tickets for the both of you. While he did that, you took interest in the photos on the paper, your eyes scanning over the pretty tanks decorated with corals and rocks. Your attention was redirected to him when he tapped your shoulder. "Come on." He nodded his head towards the entrance and grabbed your hand. You smiled and walked with him, immediately pleased by the soft lighting filled with blues and other cool tones. Straight ahead of the two of you is a large tank filled with tropical fish and your eyes widened in astonishment. "This is amazing, Chuuya!" You enthusiastically said, hyped up about all the wonderful creatures sitting before your eyes. He smiled with his hand on your lower back as you walked closer, getting a better look at it.

"It's real cool. What should we go to first? The jellyfish? You looked pretty excited about that." He lightly teases while standing at your side. "Yeah, that's a good idea." You find a nearby directory, find the jellyfish section, and start your trip there, Chuuya in tow. "Jellyfish are so pretty. Did you know that pissing on a jellyfish sting doesn't help." You say and he nods. "I did know that." You roll your eyes. "Atleast pretend you didn't. Oh, look! There it is!" You say, spotting the glow of the jellyfish tanks in the otherwise dark area. You're like a moth to a flame as your pace quickens, stopping right infront of the dwarf lions mane jellyfish. "They're so pretty." You state, holding Chuuyas hand tightly. He smiles and takes the chance to plant a kiss on your cheek. "You're quite a beauty yourself, y'know?" You nod, your eyes wandering to the other jellyfish tanks. "I do, you'd never let me forget." You say with a grin. He smiles with you and lets you lead him around the large aquarium. "Good." His arm falls around your waist and holds you close while you tell him about the animals. The smile on your face made him feel butterflies as you turned to face him.

"Oh my gosh, they got seahorses over here too! Look how cute he is." You say, peering through the small circle of glass. He bent down ever so slightly to look with you and smiled. "You really think that's cute?" He scrunches his nose. "A little." You step back and turn to face him, watching his expression return to his regular one. "Whatever you say, doll. Wanna go see some other animals?" You hum in approval of the idea. "Yeah." And with that, the two of you were off to tour the rest of the aquarium with excitement and fascination in the variety of animals. Chuuya bought you some food afterwards, eating with you while standing in the parking lot and laughing together. You had made another memory with Chuuya, and every new one made your heart swell. You just loved him so much, and he loved you too, which made the aquarium trip all the more special. Even if you had never cared about sea life before, the fact that Chuuya would explore the topic with you was what mattered most.

Nikolai Gogol ♡

ೃ⁀➷

Going on an aquarium date with Nikolai was your idea, highly inspired by a bunch of couple tiktoks that were filmed with the large tanks and beautiful animals in the background. When you pitched the idea to him, he seemed pretty hyped. He had a bit of an odd infatuation with fish- whenever he was out on a boat he would look for the dead ones floating on the top of the water and pointed them out excitedly when he spotted them. He still did that too this day, but he seemed just as satisfied to see the living ones swim around in gorgeously decorated tanks.

So, hand in hand, the two of you walked to the nearby aquarium. It kind of surprised you that you'd never thought to have this date with him before because of the close proximity, but it no longer mattered. His hair was tied back in its usual braid and his right eye was uncovered, exposing the pretty color to you and anyone who caught a glance. He looked as handsome as ever while he yapped to you about the various pet fish he had during childhood. You happily listened, never dismissing him disinterestedly. He talked just as much with his free hand as his mouth most of the way there, showing his expressive personality. The chatter between the two of you died down when you stepped up to the window to pay the entry fee, and he stood beside you while staring at various pieces of decor.

"Do they have food here?" He asked as the lady behind the counter swiped your credit card. "Probably, I don't see why they wouldn't." He hummed in agreement. "Yeah." He was silent when the lady returned your card to you. He didn't let go of your hand until you entered the aquarium and he instead opted to put his arm around your shoulders. "Do you think the restaurant serves fish? I'm kinda craving flounder..." He whispered in your ear just as you stared at the first large fish tank. You rolled your eyes and pushed him off of you. "I don't wanna talk about eating them right now, especially not in front of them!" You said, pointing at the fish through the glass. A small smile peeked through your expression of exaggerated disgust and he gave a knowing grin back, just chuckling and looking down at his feet. "You don't think they look tasty in the slightest?" He says, walking closer to you and putting his hand on the small of your back. "Not one bit." You affirm, standing your ground.

"Tsk tsk tsk...whatever you say, babe." He teases. "What other animals do they got here?" He asks you, to which you shrug. "I dunno, I didn't take a pamphlet. We'll have to figure it out, I guess." You looked around for a directory only to be met with decor and wall art of other purposes. You hum while looking around, pulling him along. You both stop to see every new animal that enters your vision, both pairs of eyes lighting up at the sight of the fauna. "Aren't they all so pretty, Kolya?" You murmur. He agrees and averts his attention to a man standing in the center of the aquarium. He double takes before patting your shoulder and pointing. "Oh my god, he's got a crocodile!" He whispered to you, turning you in said direction. Your jaw dropped and you immediately walked closer. "Oh my gosh, can I pet it?" You ask the trained professional. He laughs and nods, holding the baby croc out for you to touch.

You run your fingers across it's scaly skin and feel your heart beat faster in your chest. You knew it wasn't dangerous, but it felt thrilling. Nikolai watched you and followed suit, running his hand along the animal, too. "We should get one some day." He says glancing at you. "Well, they're not really recommended as household pets, as a matter of fact I'm not sure it's legal..." he hesitates and Nikolai shrugs. "Damn, that's a shame, huh, dove?" He asks, turned to you with his iconic, sly, smile. You nodded along once again. "Yeah, surely."

He shrugs again and grabs your hand. "It's alright, we'll have other animals some day." He beams. "Let's go pet some stingrays now, yeah?" And with that, the two of you were headed to the petting tank. The rest of the day was well spent by seeing and petting sea creatures with your boyfriend, enjoying the usual shenanigans that was destined to occur when the two of you were together. You decided to call it a day after getting some food inside the aquarium, which did have seafood, much to Nikolais pleasure. You walked down the stairs of the entry way, your arm around Nikolais waist. You couldn't help but feel exhausted after the day you had, but it's okay, your boyfriend would help you relax!

"Oh, sweet cheeks, I got you a souvenir while we were in there." He says, his smile from ear to ear. You hadn't seen him buy anything at all, or even look in the direction of the gift shop, so you immediately knew that the gift wasn't going to be ethically sourced. He reached into his portal and pulled out the crocodile he said he wanted as a pet earlier. You immediately freaked out and pointed to the portal. "Oh my god, Kolya, put that back right now! You're gonna get arrested, oh my god!" You stressed, your eyebrows knitted together. He just chuckled and put the animal back. "I'm just kidding, don't worry. The actual souvenir is these." He closed the portal and pulled some small, glass turtles out of his pockets. "They reminded me of you, and I know you like your little trinkets." He said, handing one of them to you. "And they're matching, I thought you'd like them." He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your heart thumped in your chest and you nodded vigorously. "Aw, thank you, Kolya. I love them so much." The smile on your face was enormous. Anything from Nikolai was always spontaneous yet thoughtful. You pulled his face down quickly to give him a peck on the lips, eliciting a quiet hum and grin from your lover. His hand rested on your cheek, even as you pulled away. "I love YOU so much." He says with a slightly scrunched nose. You flash your teeth when you smile, running a hand through his bangs. "I love you too, Nikolai."

A/n; me when I post 💔🙏 BUT ANYWAYS HI midterm season is OVER so that means new quarter and all my late assignments don't matter so I don't gotta stress over them. ANDANDAND swim season is over, I have one more practice so I'll have SOOOO much more free time. It's kinda bittersweet, though. I really like swimming but it's alright I guesssss 3:

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wisteria-blooms · 10 months ago

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sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.”

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?”

“Open it up and see,” offered George.

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper.

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid.

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away.

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy.

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house.

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed. You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth.

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you.

“Wow.”

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams.

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair.

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance.

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house.

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about.

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter.

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked.

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease.

You seethed silently.

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day.

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned.

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house.

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth.

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week.

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother. “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance.

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment.

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event.

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies.

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry.

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted.

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent.

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.”

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie.

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned.

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle.

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.”

You almost retched.

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs.

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back.

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh.

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried.

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom.

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement.

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought.

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward.

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he?

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could.

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it.

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.”

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you.

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were).

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna—

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

#charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x you

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parmahamlarrie · 10 months ago

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Welcome back to another post for the directory of fic recs on my blog! If you would like a specific theme or trope, let me know! As always, these are all fics I have read and loved, not all the fics out there. You can find more Arranged Marriage fics here! **This post will be updated as I have more fics in this theme to recommend!**

Here's Your Perfect || @brightgolden || 54.1k Omegaverse, Age Difference, Rich Louis, Kid Fic

Just for Tonight (I can be yours) || @sadaveniren || 42.4k Omegaverse, Royalty AU, Historical, Prince Harry, Coming of Age, Arranged Marriage

Canyon Moon || @eeeveelou || 40.8k Omegaverse, Werewolf AU, Angst, Pining, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Arranged Marriage, Lion King AU

We Don't Need No Pier of Paper (From the City Clerk) || @2tiedships2 || 26.1k Omegaverse, Soulmate AU, Online Dating, Arranged Marriage

Sigh for Sigh || Anonymous || 10.8k Omegaverse, Arranged Marriage, Regency, Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending

Young Pup || Black_Bird_Singing || 5k Omegaverse, Loss of Virginity, Arranged Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Royalty

You All The Time || @londonfoginacup || 2.1k Arranged Marriage, Fluff

#tracksintheam #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dsource #fic rec #fic rec list #larry fic rec #my fic rec lists #arranged marriage

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ihopesocomic · 1 month ago

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Do you guys have a directory of all the slang used commonly by lions?

Mostly. Tho I guess it wouldn't hurt to throw in Fangs of the King, Traveler's breath, and fuzzbrain. - Cat

#ask #ask us stuff #cat answers

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asongofgoldenfireandblackblood · 10 days ago

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Players Wanted:

House Lannister ✷ Hear Me Roar

The sovereign Lords of Casterly Rock and the undisputed masters of coin in Westeros, House Lannister is the wealthiest House in the Seven Kingdoms, with golden mines that seem endless, and ancient strongholds said to rest on foundations of treasure buried so deep that dragons themselves could not reach them. Lannister legends speak of deals made with sorcerers and golden lions prowling in their bloodline, and a daring lady who, alongside her cunning sisters, ran from duty to carve a path of her own. Together, they command the Seven Kingdoms from the shadows, shaping the realm with a deftness no king could ever match.

A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood is especially seeking Lord Jason Lannister, his Lady-Wife, Johanna Westerling-Lannister, their second youngest daughter and companion to Princess Visenya, Lady Cerenna Lannister, and Lord Jason's younger twin brother and one of the closest advisors to Lord Otto Hightower, Ser Tyland Lannister.

Learn more about House Lannister HERE, send us a raven with any questions and when you're ready to apply, join our Discord to chat with our players who want to see more from House Lannister, and reach out to our two active players for their house so far, Cerelle (Nick) on @cerellelannister2 and Tyshara (Emma) on @tyshara-the-lioness

home — navigate — wanted — discord — apply — directory — faq

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sehtoast · 11 months ago

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The Art of Worship (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | 2.6k words | Webweaver, gore, dismemberment, display of a corpse, blood, face fucking, choking, rooftop sex, p in v sex, blood as lube -- yes, you read that right, multiple orgasms, Homelander is his own warning, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

Homelander was fucking furious.

Rage and indignance burned in his gut, igniting a flame that scorched anyone and everyone that dared cross his path or, worse yet, cross him outright.

The only person safe from him was Benjamin. His sweet little Benjamin. So calm and collected, patient and kind in the face of this– this slight. This brazen fucking insult.

Vought wanted publicity. Demanded it. Spectacles and events, mountains of money, free advertising from all the social media hype. Of course they'd want to pit their beloved Spider-Man against Webweaver, just as they'd done with A-Train and Shockwave. There was money to be made. They’d dangle his precious little spider over a lion’s jaw for a penny if the opportunity came about. What did he expect?

They were to have a bundle of competitions, each one specially designed to determine who was the better Spider.

Who was more fit for The Seven.

Of course Homelander had gone nearly ballistic when he found out.

Benjamin, though… He simply wasn’t taking it seriously. Subject to rants and raves every morning and night as the competition neared, the bug simply always said, “It’ll be what it’ll be.”

But this couldn’t be. Homelander wouldn’t fucking stand for it. He didn’t believe for a second that the wall crawler would leave him were he to lose his place on the team, but to see someone else sit in his seat? To tolerate some airheaded jackass, some cheap fucking knockoff thinking he was better in any capacity? Absolutely not.

He wasn’t going to allow it.

He’d worked himself into a frenzy by the time he tackled his lover’s competitor out of the sky. Completely consumed by rage, by fear and anxiety– but, more than anything, the burning need to protect. He zips through the city, dragging Webweaver’s face across building after building, smearing pulp-like blood across the surfaces.

“Did you really think,” he sneers, “I’d ever let someone like you into The Seven? That I’d let you replace Spider-Man without putting my fucking foot down?”

He can hear the whimpering. There’s still time to play, he decides, as he lands upon a skyscraper with two antenna towers that would be just perfect for what he had in mind.

He drags Webweaver’s limp form between the two, fiddling about with his hands and wrists to figure out how to fire his webs.

Imagine his surprise when it turns out to be a mechanism rather than the organic method by which Ben produces them. No bodily-intent needed to make sure the webbing’s consistency and tension would be just right.

With a roll of his eyes, Homelander begins to craft his masterpiece. He’s seen his little spider do this tons of times; so, really, how hard could it be? He works, eventually deciding it’s far more convenient to remove Webweaver’s arm than to lug his dead weight around.

Once it’s perfect, he has his fun. Picks him apart piece by painful piece, starting at the legs. Webweaver is in and out of consciousness as Homelander dismembers him, but what fucking fun it was to see the look of horror on the face of the thorn in his side when he snapped that first length of bone and ripped his flesh clean off.

“Like picking the legs off a bug,” he mocks.

Homelander mounts each limb in the web, creating a work of art piece by piece, topping it all off with a dripping, mangled, decapitated head. He doesn’t even bother pulling the mask off– it’s shredded perfectly. In his satisfaction of a job well done, he can’t help but feel his work of art is enough to rival Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. Surely, after this, he’s an artist in his own right.

When he arrives home to find his Benjamin waiting on the couch, he has to stop the bug from attempting to drag him into the shower.

“It’s a surprise,” he tells Ben when the origin of the viscera is questioned. “C’mon, I made you something!”

The look of abject horror on Ben’s face when they land on the rooftop tickles a mote of fear in his gut. He’d done this just for his little spider. Declared him the victor before the competitions could even begin. Painted the city red just for him.

“D’you like it?” He asks, the mixture of excitement and anxiety stirring in his gut. “I did it for you.”

Ben’s chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. He plucks at one of the tight strands of webbing, listening to the twanging vibration as he takes it all in.

At first he’s scared. It’s like seeing an alternate version of himself in that web. If things were different, would Homelander have done this to him? He doubts it, but… somehow, some way, it stirs something in his core.

Homelander had killed– no, slaughtered a man for him. It wasn’t even the first time John had killed for him, but this..? This was something else entirely. This was more than protection, more than retaliation.

It looked like a fucking offering to a beloved god from their most devout follower. The care and creativity that had gone into it… Benjamin would be a liar if he said there wasn’t something alluring about the fact Homelander had done this.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more his horror was replaced with something else entirely. Something wicked.

He turns to Homelander, who stands there looking like a kicked puppy. Ben had spent too long in thought, and his poor, darling Johnny began to feel rejected.

“John?” He whispers, drawing his blood drenched lover’s gaze away from the ground. “You did all this… for me?”

With big, blue, scared eyes, Homelander nods.

It’s as if Ben’s body moves on its own. Each step forward barely registers, the hands rising to Homelander’s face are numb to sensation, cupping his cheeks as if they had a mind of their own. Before he can even realize, Ben is leaning in to take Homelander in a searing kiss, gasping and breathing in lungfuls of the iron-laced air and each of John’s little breaths.

He can taste the blood on Homelander’s lips, and something sinister rears its head inside.

“You,” he gasps between kisses, tongue laving into John’s mouth for more, “are so…”

He backs Homelander up against one of the antenna towers, taking a fistful of his suit, other hand gripping his red-stained undercut to angle him deeper into the kiss.

“So fucking hot,” he breathes as they separate.

A sick grin spreads across Homelander’s blood splattered face. That swell of pride bubbles within him once more, particularly when he sees just how bloody his little spider’s lips had become from their kiss. More than pride though, he feels himself twitch in his pants.

Benjamin looks gorgeous covered in that worthless fuck's blood.

He grips him by the jaw, pulling the web-head back in for another kiss, slipping his tongue between his lips. Homelander takes him fiercely, overcome with a deep, desperate hunger that demands appreciation for his work of art.

How goddamn thrilling to not hear a single complaint as he tore the t-shirt clean off Benjamin’s body. He spins the bug, pressing his bare skin to the cold metal, relishing the opportunity to be had in his gasp.

He takes control.

“Mine,” Homelander growls as he marks Benjamin with more blood. He extends a hand, catching a few dribbles from the stray limbs above, moving back to claim his territory.

With a red right hand, he paints his name over Ben’s chest in big, bold letters. The crimson blends with the leather of his glove, appearing as if his very essence was what smeared onto his little love bug. He finishes it off with a bloody grip at Benjamin’s neck, leaving behind a perfect print.

“So, you like my handy-work, huh?” He smirks, trailing the tip of his nose up the corner of Ben’s jaw. Homelander hears him gulp in response, feels those hands grasp at his forearms, and all he fucking wants is to put him on his knees and mmm…

He has such delicious ideas in mind.

“Maybe you should show me how much you like it.”

The glint of excitement in Ben’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed before the web-head is falling to his knees, just like he wanted. What a fucking sight he was to behold, too. The way he nuzzled against Homelander’s clothed cock before undoing his belt. He mouths over it and, despite barely being able to feel it through the fabric and cup, John’s entire lower region twitches in excitement.

He sighs in relief when his cock meets the cool night time air, engulfed in heat near immediately as Benjamin swallows his length. Throat training the boy had been the best decision in the world, truly.

“Ohhh…” Homelander leans his head back, stained hands threading through those unruly chestnut locks. “That’s it– fuckin’ take it.”

John grinds into Ben’s mouth, burying himself deep and staying there until that hot, needy throat clamps down around his cock in a gag.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts. “Hold it.” He hears the sound of Benjamin sputtering below. Homelander looks down with a grin. “Thaaaaat’s it, keep it in there. Atta’boy, Benny. My little spider– mine!” Homelander pulls out to the tip, watching his precious Benjamin choke and gasp, grinning wickedly at the threads of saliva still connecting them.

He tips Ben’s head back to gaze up at him.

“I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, and you’re gonna behave yourself.” He orders. In the background, faint drips of blood can be heard splattering against the ground. “Show me just how grateful you are that I saved your bacon, babe.”

Ben nods obediently before swallowing him once more. Homelander swears he sees stars once that tongue swipes his tip, and galaxies as he sinks further inside. He begins to thrust, hand directing Ben’s head with each motion to maximize his bliss.

He really likes the sound his little spider makes every time the head of his cock beats the back of his throat.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he chuckles through his teeth. “You couldn’t wait to suck my dick when you saw what I did for you– I just know it. You wanted to thank me so bad!”

Homelander pushes in until Ben’s lips are wrapped around the base of his cock. He holds there for a moment before setting a faster pace, thrusting blissfully into that hot, wet mouth that was just so perfect for him.

“You wanted to get on your knees the second you saw it,” he continues. “You know I deserve this for protecting you. Fuck… suck that cock, baby.”

He tilts the bug’s head back to rest against the metal frame, admiring the tears painting his cheeks and those gorgeous swollen lips. When the hands gripping his thighs clench, he pats Ben’s cheek sweetly.

No, he thinks to himself. This is my masterpiece.

He gives his little spider ample opportunity to breathe once more as he pulls out, gripping his cock to smear spit and precum across his lovely little Benjamin’s face.

Van Gogh only wishes his brushes stroked such beautiful swirls.

When that tongue juts out to beg for more, John wastes no time at all in burying himself all the way in one smooth motion. This time, though, he leans down to grasp Ben's neck. With a light squeeze, he’s overwhelming even himself– and yet he still fucks into that impossibly tight heat.

Ben’s eyes water even more, and he grips Homelander’s thighs with all of his might as he fights his gag reflex. He can’t breathe, he can’t speak, and the hand squeezing his throat is pressing perfectly against his carotid arteries.

His vision swims into blackness.

Over the deafening thrums of his own heartbeat, Ben hears Homelander cry out his release, feels him thrust forward impossibly closer, pushing his head back against the metal frame with each motion.

“Good boy, good– ah! Good fucking boy!”

He’s buried too deep to spare even a taste of come in Benjamin’s mouth, and the bug fights to not pass the fuck out from lack of oxygen. By the time Homelander pulls out, Ben's almost confident he’s turned at least a few shades of purple if his desperate, heaving gulps of air were anything to go by. He slumps onto his side before rolling onto his back, uncaring that he now lays in a puddle of his rival’s blood.

The sky is clear and the moon smiles back at him, but there’s no time to bask in it when his jeans and underwear are being dragged off his body by his voracious lover.

Homelander spreads Ben’s legs with little patience before plunging into his cunt, groaning through clenched teeth as the soft, velvety walls practically pull him in. Beneath him, Ben whines and squirms.

“Too mu– w-wait a sec!”

But he doesn’t care. Not when that heat beckons him forth all the more and consumes him whole. He ruts without care, fucking into his little spider like an animal. Fuck, maybe that’s exactly what he was, all bloodstained, fangs bared, eyes swirling red in his frenzy. Each snap of his hips caused them to slide around in the slick remains of Benjamin’s foe.

His little spider looked so fucking perfect in a halo of vengeance.

“Mine,” Homelander snarls, nails biting into the softness of Benjamin’s hips. Below, his little spider whines and keens, eyes rolling back despite all of his attempts to steady his vision. His pussy lips are parted like flower petals, and thrusts at just the right angle cause his swollen bud to slide against Homelander’s cock. The more Benjamin writhes, the more blood stains his body.

He’s a sight to behold, especially once one of his slicked hands reaches between them to slide over the base of Homelander's cock. Each stroke drags a little more of the thick liquid from his fingers and each glide of his cock becomes smoother until Homelander realizes just what his little love bug had done.

Benjamin used the fucking blood as lube.

A thought that, as soon as it fully manifested in Homelander’s mind, had him thrusting harsh and deep before spilling his load inside his lovely little Benjamin.

“Fuck–” he mewls, rutting through the waves, cock twitching with every little spurt. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck… You little fucking slut!”

Ben had hardly realized what he’d done. In truth, he just wanted something to ease the friction. Wet as he’d been, he just needed more– and, without that godsent bottle of lube usually within arm’s reach at home, he had to take what he could get.

By the time Ben opens his eyes, Homelander is engulfing him in a kiss that is far more tongue than lips, and he’s only able to whine once he feels his love start moving again. This time, though, John is a little slower, a little more gentle. Enough that Ben found himself falling over the edge of bliss without fear of being fucked through the roof. As he came apart, so did Homelander.

Again, and again, and again. Each round requiring more and more of the crimson liquid to keep things comfortable.

By the time they finished, the rooftop had dried and the corpse no longer dripped. Both Ben’s clothes and John’s suit were completely ruined, but a naked journey home is much less humiliating when the sky is the path taken. They looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie, drenched from head to toe in dried blood.

Homelander holds Benjamin tight in the shower. Trails his fingertips over the bruises on his throat, on his hips and legs. He wants to apologize, but he earned this.

Instead, he kisses him– softly, this time.

“I’m never letting you go.” He states firmly, as if that’s all the explanation he needs to give for everything he has or ever will do. “I’m never fucking letting you go.”

Benjamin, on wobbly legs, leans his weight against his beloved Johnny.

“I love you, too.”

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #antony starr #the boys fanfiction

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