#and deliver it to the bride’s suit

[milky-aeons]

'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!

WRITING REQUESTS

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs headcanon #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #kunikida doppo #kunikida doppo x reader #atsushi nakajima #atsushi x reader #atsushi nakajima x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #🎋 — writing requests #gorgeous bead dividers by pommecita!!

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Ascended Astarion who refuses to take your virginity until you're officially declared his consort. He'll kiss you until you can't breathe, leaves bite marks all over your inner thighs, cups your breasts with his hands and rolls your nipples gently with his thumbs. He'll hold your legs apart at the ankles and grind into you, letting you feel how hard he is. No matter how you beg him to fuck you (even with just the tip, anything at all), no matter how you plead and pout and maybe, once or twice, cry for it, he always pulls away.

You deserve something more special than this for your first time, he says. You deserve the wedding, the feast (the food you can't eat and the wine you can't taste). The softest of marriage beds, the sweetest possible claiming. Oh, he wants you, but he wants to give you that luxury more.

And so you wait. You accept the proposal when it comes and show off the ring (golden, diamond-studded, jewels so large you can't begin to fathom the price) to anyone in the palace who crosses your path. Astarion's dressmaker comes to your rooms and fits you for a wedding gown that, when it's delivered, turns out to be less of a gown and more of a negligee, gauzy and light and so sheer that it's see through. When you ask Astarion about it, he only smiles.

The wedding comes sooner than you know and you process almost none of it. At the altar, Astarion looks at you as though he wants to eat you alive. When he kisses you, his tongue slides filthily into your mouth and you nearly bruise him with your grip at the shock of it. It takes nearly half an hour for the heat in your belly to die down. The reception is worse. As you sit at your table at the head of the hall, receiving well-wish after well-wish from a very long line of people you don't seem to recognize, Astarion subtly reaches under the table and places a hand on your thigh. When you stumble on a 'thank you' to the latest guest, he trails his fingers further up your leg, igniting a path of fire on your skin. You are wearing underwear, thank the gods, but you can feel the fabric growing wet between your thighs.

He strokes his thumb over your clit once, then pulls away. When you have the courage to look over at him, he presses the digit to his lower lip and licks it.

By the time he pulls you into the bedroom, you're more than ready to give yourself to him, your husband, your lord. He kisses you hard, clutches your face in his hands, bites your mouth so the blood flows freely between you, coppery and slick, just how he likes. He slams the door behind you and rips the sheer expensive tulle that drapes you to shreds. You look fucking gorgeous, he growls in your ear, all decorated for him, his wife. Oh, he'll give you what you want.

You expect him to slow down at least a little once he has you on your back on the bed, hands clutching nervously at the sheets. You want this, yes, but he had said it would be soft. He had said it would be sweet. And it's only your first time, you with no real idea what to do. You can't keep up with him like this.

Astarion crawls over you and kisses you deep, and it seems like he's good for his word. It's everything he promised, a flick of the switch performed so fast it's like he's reading your thoughts. You help him shed his suit and start to lay back down, but then he tells you to turn onto your stomach. It's easier this way for the first time, he says, and you have no reason not to believe him, so you turn.

When he positions himself between your outstretched legs and cups your cunt, you shudder. He laughs at you, lightly, calls you beautiful, lets his hands roam all over your body. So sweet and soft for him, everything he wanted in a bride. All his, forever. And you saved yourself for him like you knew all along he was waiting. He fits his hips to your ass, lets his cock, hard and smooth on your skin, drag. He's already gotten to claim your life. Your mind. It's a gift to take your body, too.

He thrusts into you without warning, without stretching you, without checking to see if you're wet. The choked sound you make is just as much from surprise from pain. He promised, you think. He promised.

Something tears inside you as he pulls back out, slowly, and you cry out, the pain forcing your body to at least try to fight back. He shushes you, grabs your wrists from behind and pins them on your lower back. He's sorry it hurts, he is, but you do look so very pretty like this, spread out beneath him, his to do what he likes with. Innocent. Fresh.

Just relax, and it'll feel better- he's very, very good at this. Calm down. It'll feel good soon.

His pounding continues, relentless, his cock sawing in and out of you like a blade, and as the tears start to spill down your temples onto the sheets you are truly afraid of him for the first time.

Forever, he whispers into your ear. The word reverberates in your mind, his voice louder and louder until it's all you can hear. The only voice you'll ever hear again. Forever mine.

#astarion x reader #ascended astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #ascended astarion smut #.nsft #mdni #.astarion #tw dubcon #tw virginity #tw general nastiness #girl i want him.

[chosos-mascara]

gojo's bride

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - mafia au, violence, arranged marriage, guns, killing/shooting in one scene, you're on the run, bounty hunter toji, marriage

side characters: suguru, sukuna and toji

5.4k words

Throughout childhood, an image of marriage is painted by your family. A contract between soulmates; a display of love to a person. Notes of a traditional wedding decorated with chairs of close friends and relatives, smiles wide and eyes glassy. Or, maybe you were better suited to a romantic elopement followed by a getaway, littered with intimate moments before announcing yourself a wife. In the end, the outcome is the same, one drilled into you by your parents since a young age. Perhaps while innocent, you had indulged within the images of a princess-like gown and florals winding around an ornate staircase - though with age and your growing understanding of your father's business values, you'd understood this wasn't a day to look forward to. 

When those in your clan would mention a prospective husband, someone your father would pick by hand, your heart would race excitedly, hands grasping over your chest as you swooned in adoration. There had been a semblance of what you'd pictured your future husband to look like, though that had since dwindled. When hitting twenty, reality setting in that this was another thing you would not experience normally, you tried to push the idea away. To your family, you were a pawn, and your marriage would be nothing other than an advantage to them; because when born as a woman within the world of Japanese illegitimate business, there were more hurdles than most. Your life had been seemingly filled with one sacrifice after another, and marriage was looking to be the largest one yet. 

Which is why, a courthouse wedding planned only twelve hours prior hadn't been what you'd envisioned. Despite the loss of formality and tradition there had still been anxiousness bubbling within the pit of your stomach, hands clammy as you took hold of the man you'd barely known while reciting an unbreakable oath. Instead of a dress, you'd been in cargos and a long sleeved top, though Gojo had displayed a little more care over the ordeal - a crisp blue shirt and slacks, black lenses over his eyes an a Rolex on his wrist. He slid the ring over your finger, delivering vows that had meant very little to either of you, and you'd repeated the action moments later, heart racing when the officiant had announced that you were now bound by law. Geto and Sukuna signed the certificate, and the four of you left to return to the shitty apartment you'd been hiding within for the past week. A weight had been lifted, but a new one had only taken its place. 

"Now, the reason we're gathered here is due to an important announcement within the family." Your father spoke, lips curving upward into a smile as his eyes darted to your own. It had been obvious when your parents had requested your presence for dinner there had been an ulterior motive, with yourself being left alone unless there had been news, or you'd been in need of discipline. It had usually been the latter, with being in your twenties and having a powerful father while being rebellious to his rules, there had been frequent fall-outs. Though within the moment his cold stare met yours, you'd understood exactly what he'd been about to say. 

"I've picked a partner for my daughter, finally." Through his thin smile, jagged teeth had shown. "Next week, she'll become a Zen'in, and our clan will reap the benefits of being united with one of the top three." For such a disgusting statement, he spoke with confidence, watching through beady eyes as the chatter of close and distant family members erupted, though mostly from excitement.  "What?" The quiet protest fell between conversations of others, any further objections died on your tongue. He looked down at you, a vacant stare before continuing. Your gaze fluttered to your mother to ask for a semblance of empathy, yet you were met with the same ruthless eyes. 

"Naoya Zen'in, my future son in law, will aid in managing business, merging with his father's company." The name had rang alarm bells through your already cascading mind, oblivion on the horizon. Naoya, a bigger misogynist than any man within your clan, a person referred to as scum by anyone with half a brain. 

There had been an uncomfortable cough opposite you, your panicked gaze meeting the dark eyes of your cousin. He's raised a brow, placing serviette beside plate as his head tilted toward large wooden doors - the only exit from the dining hall. You took a moment to think, mouth agape and heart racing, before standing. A large push through your daze of emotion had been all it had taken to activate the flight response, leaving your seat to run toward your room.

Once your head had hit pillow, tears flooded through your eyes, face plush to soft sheets in order to drown out the sobs raking over your body. The Zen'ins had been one of three leading clans within the mafia, alongside Kamo and Gojo. Three lineages known to be the dirtiest of all, though due to honor had been treated as if royalty. You'd heard Sukuna speak of Naoya in passing, and his disgust with the man he'd only met in passing.

"Hey," Sukuna's voice filled the air between muffled cries, body shaking and breaths heavy as you'd turned to face the figure walking through the room. Shifting, you sat with your back against the headboard, a pillow in your lap as the mattress dipped to allow space to your only friend. "I'm so sorry-" Sukuna began, bringing a hand to his face and sighing. "This is bad."

The weight of the situation before you had grown heavier when your cousin had admitted his own alarm. Sukuna feared no one, and had taught you to follow him on the same path of callousness; jobs executed with little remorse or care. Your partnership had resembled siblings to outsiders in the sense that you'd been family no one would cross, even if Ryomen had been a relatively new name within this world. With the company founded by your grandfather, there had been just enough time to spread word of the name, though when comparing feats to that of Gojo or Kamo, Ryomen had appeared ant-sized. 

"I can't," You stuttered over words between labored breaths, a harsh squeeze over the pillow clutched within your grip, pressing into your stomach. "Sukuna, I really can't do this."  Brown eyes scanned over you once more, concern riddled within the pupils, down turned eyebrows creating a crease at his forehead. He hadn't seen you like this before; distraught, scared. Since childhood, the pair of you had pushed emotion from your psyche, swearing vow to be honest only with the other. Each of you had promised to be the only person to trust in the harsh world you'd been brought into. In adulthood, you'd met with him significantly less, and Sukuna had built a name for himself as the Ryomen with the dirtiest hands. Yet, the vow would not be broken.

"There's a place downtown," Sukuna's voice had been hushed, a sigh from his lips before continuing. "Tonight, we'll leave. You can stay until I find a way to get you out of this mess." The statements he'd spoken had been frantic as he'd tried to make sense of the visions in his head - if he would've simply been born with more intelligence, perhaps he'd have been better aid when you'd needed him most. 

"What's that going to do?" You laughed through helpless sobs, rolling eyes at the promise he'd made - though with trembling lips and fingernails scratching anxiously over the skin of your arm, your body had demonstrated the true terror within you.  "Dad's not going to cancel a deal halfway through, not with the Zen'ins." Reiterating your point, you tried to push him away from an ill-planed escape, however much you'd needed him to give his all.  "We'll figure this out, okay?" Tattooed fingers smoothed through his hair, dullness within his gaze as he watched over your deflated form.

It had been midnight when you'd left. With only a backpack for belongings, you'd stuffed it to the best of your ability before slipping through the bedroom window, prayers whispered as you'd absconded the building. Hopefully, your family would notice your disappearance after you'd left their surveillance lines. 

Sukuna had waited a block away, engine running as he'd awaited your presence in the passenger side. It hadn't taken much pleading before Suguru had agreed to house you, only having to hear the Zen'in name before allowing you to seek refuge, though he couldn't deny his concerns of being found even while in a safe house. After holding his breath while waiting for you, you'd finally emerged, slumping against the passenger seat. Sukuna had now been in control of your fate, shifting into drive. 

The journey hadn't been long, reaching the building within a half hour, though concern riddling your mind upon entry. A run down apartment block, ivy curving into single-pane windows to grow along the white-washed brick inside, cracked tiles beneath your feet left unwashed and elevator jolting upon movement. Your travels had been led mostly in silence, each remaining expressionless despite the mental hellfire you were wading through. 

Stopping at a wooden door, a brass 206 nailed into the middle of the wood, Sukuna had only had to knock once before it had opened. Stomach dropping, you stepped back, frantically looking to your cousin to voice your shock and betrayal when seeing the blue eyes behind the door. It hadn't made sense why Sukuna had brought you to a Gojo hideout - one of the leading clans alongside the Zen'ins. 

"Don't worry." The familiar brown eyes met your own, stern countenance and monotone voice as he'd placed a hand over your shoulder, a light push forward. "Satoru isn't like his family."  After Sukuna's reassurance, the Gojo had opened the door wider, stepping to the side to accommodate both you and your cousin as you passed through. The apartment's interior hadn't reflected the halls outside, being well decorated and clean. Following Sukuna through to the kitchen, you watched as he seated himself at the table, inked hand reaching to his pocket to fish out a carton of straights, pulling one from the pack and setting it to his lips. The amber of his lighter emerged after only one flick of the steel, lighting the end of the cigarette and taking a drag. 

"This is Gojo Satoru." Sukuna broke the silence, gesturing toward the white haired male you'd met with moments prior. The smoke drifting upward from the end of his cigarette wafted as he waved his hand, stopping as a painted nail pointed behind you. "That's Geto Suguru." Turning, you were met with a new face, though a name you'd recognised. 

Both males introduced had been tall, differing builds yet similar black ink etched into their skin. Satoru had been lanky, yet his height and demeanour gave an aura you hadn't often experienced, one of importance. Gojo's limbs had been decorated, though the most notable artwork had been the clan mark of Gojo: an eye on the right side of the neck. An immediate sign of strength for those who understood its meaning. Geto had been much broader, manner radiating from physical build rather than an intense aura. His physical strength had been clear. 

"Goes without saying that you can't leave the apartment." Sukuna's words had been low, eyes fixed to you with an intimidating stare. The heartfelt and honest personality he'd shared with you had switched when in the presence of others, Sukuna instead watching through an emotionless gaze as you reacted to his words. The instruction had been one that had your brow furrowing and arms crossing, though Geto had interrupted before you'd had the chance to counter.  "Naoya Zen'in is dangerous." Geto leaned back on a countertop, both hands supporting his weight as he continued. "Not because he's strong - it's because he's weak. People follow him only through fear." Geto shifted, eyes straying to the floor before meeting yours once more. "Naoya doesn't kill - he tortures, molests, creates hell for those who don't give him his way. Even then, he's too cowardly to do anything with his own hands." Suguru's statements had your blood running cold, a lump forming within your throat. 

"If he finds you, it's over." Sukuna continued from his friend, another puff of smoke passing his lips. He leaned back, usual stoic expression saddening you after the anomaly of sympathy he'd displayed earlier that evening.  "It's not just your life on the line right now; if they know we're involved, there's consequences-" One thing you'd despised throughout your life had been being treated as if a child, awfully long explanations from those who'd considered themselves smarter than you; almost always describing words of common sense.  "I know." Quick to interject, you'd stopped Geto's lecture, straightening yourself. "I'll stay here." You met your cousin's eyes as he stood from the chair, opening the window situated behind the sink to throw the smoked-cigarette through, closing it once discarded. 

Sukuna had departed shortly after, cautious as not to raise suspicion. Between his few visits, you would be on no-contact, careful not to expose your whereabouts to your own family, or any clan allied with them. After twenty hours, your parents had reported you missing, stomach churning when details of a bounty had been explained in grueling detail by Gojo. He'd sat through an uncomfortable conversation within his own clan's meeting, reciting the disdain from the Zen'ins when the topic of Ryomen had been brought up in passing. 

It had been three days before Sukuna had visited once more, tense body radiating nothing other than intense stress. He'd attempted to appear un-phased by the events surrounding you, but when seeing the tired eyes and hunched back, you'd understood he'd been suffering. He'd slumped down in the kitchen chair once again, lighting up a cigarette before beginning to formulate words. The actions had mirrored that of your first evening in confinement, a feeling of deja-vu as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. 

"They're getting restless." He spoke, deep voice much rougher due to lack of sleep and an increase in his smoking habit. Gojo sighed, taking a seat beside him. You fiddled with your thumbs above the table, helpless to the strains both you and your cousin had faced. "Sukuna." Speaking his name had caused his eyes to flicker up and land to your expression. "I don't think there's anything we can do." His stop-off at the apartment had been limited, agreeing between the four of you that his visits should not exceed ten minutes. His departure had grown closer with every passing second, but a conclusion had yet to be found. 

"We'll find something." His reassurance had fallen to your deaf ears, instead of bringing comfort, his statement had instead made you feel as if your concerns were brushed off. He'd began to slip away, leaving yourself seated at the table, still helpless to the world surrounding you. There was nothing you could do in the small apartment, even if you'd wanted to aid in finding a loophole, or a solution. 

The following morning had marked four days missing, in which you'd grown increasingly depressive and bored. The new roommates you'd gained had often left for jobs and abandoned you to your own devices - which had been daytime television and chores. Being on the run had meant you were unable to use a phone or computer, and being alone most of the time had eradicated the chance of passing time through conversation or games. 

On the odd occasion only one of the males had been home, there had been one you'd preferred to the other. Gojo's presence had felt much greater than Geto's (even if he'd been more annoying). Gojo had at least made attempts at conversations. When overcoming the sense of pity Gojo had displayed toward you, he'd been pleasant to talk with, speaking of shared interests such as movies and music. Gojo had been passionate, often becoming excitable when remembering certain scenes or moments within his favourite media - though he could become equally as shut-off. There was a darkness within Gojo you knew he'd held close, and when childlike wonder had worn off, there was a very different person beneath. 

Geto had been mostly silent, though you could feel the heavy judgement through his body language. His gaze had been heavy on your skin, eyes narrowing with each movement and shoulders tense. It had been clear Geto did not trust you, and had more reluctance toward befriending you than Gojo had. 

Bringing a damp garment to hang over metal pole, you threaded fabric through the bars of the indoor clothes-horse, hanging them to dry. Much of your time spent in the apartment when both men had been home had been within the kitchen, mostly as not to burden the others with your presence. Though as you grabbed another shirt to dry, you'd noticed a tall figure at the door. 

"Are you doing laundry?" Gojo questioned, shoulder pressed up to the frame as he watched your movements. You nodded, returning back to the task at hand. "My bag was small so I've run out of clean clothes." Exhaling, you drooped the cotton over, straightening out a few creases. He smirked, finally pushing himself from the wood to waltz toward the cupboard, pulling a bag of sweets from a shelf and tearing it open. Placing a hard-boiled candy between his lips, he gestured the bag toward you.  "Want one?" The query had been muffled and accompanied by a few clicks of the sweet against his teeth. You shook your head, a small smile as if to thank him before he'd shrugged and brought the bag back toward his chest. 

Instead of leaving, Gojo had seated himself at the table, the perfect view to the chore you'd been partaking within. His eyes had burned into you, yet you'd attempted to continue as usual, facing away from the blue eyes to push cotton over wire. But after hanging another garment, you sighed, head over shoulder to lock your gaze once more. 

"Am I entertaining you?" He hadn't replied until you'd finished, your body turned to face him fully, eyes locked onto yours as he shrugged, a crack of the candy between his molars.  "Never done it." He commented nonchalantly, picking another sweet from the bag. The rustling lasted a few seconds before he was back to eating, a dramatic exhale from his nose.  "That's cause you were a trust-fund baby." Walking toward him, your bare feet tapped against the tiled floor as you brought an arm upward, fingers outstretched and sight locked onto the bag within his hand. Just before you'd been able to dive a hand into the plastic, he moved it to the side, leaving your fingertips bare. 

"Feisty for someone who's living in my apartment." He commented, blue eyes narrowing as he watched you roll your eyes yet admit defeat through your gestures, instead flopping down on the chair beside him. You sat in silence for a few moments, eyes wondering to the window above the sink - the only window within the apartment that hadn't been covered by curtains and allowed some semblance of light to cascade through. Although you'd appreciated this, there had still been some annoyance to the reminder of the outside world, and how you'd been unable to step foot within it. 

The fifth day, you'd finally brought yourself the courage to ask. 

At the table during breakfast, the opportunity had arisen in which you had both men seated with you, coffee situated before each body.  "Can you bring me shopping today?" The request would likely be denied, a faint memory of Geto's obvious distrust and worry that you'd be seen and captured if stepping foot outside. But, you'd hoped that being on the outskirts of Tokyo, you were unlikely to be recognized, and with both men beside you, you'd be well-protected. Perhaps the idea had been completely idiotic, and when met with Geto's stern expression and furrowed brow, you'd understood the likelihood had been slim to none. 

"Well," Gojo had began first as expected, the less stern presence easing your anxiety. "We're meeting Sukuna first-"  "She's not coming." Geto had been quick to shoot the idea down before Gojo had allowed a semblance of hope to form. He stood, bending over the table to gather the plates from breakfast. As he leaned across, his shirt had lifted upward, revealing a handgun against his stomach that he'd had tucked into his trousers. You hadn't allowed your sight to linger too long on the weapon, though it had crossed your mind when pleading with him. "I'll keep my hood up, please Geto-san." You bowed your head, squeezing eyes closed while trying desperately to find an excuse. Swallowing back your pride, you continued. "I need tampons." 

You hadn't looked up until you were sure Geto's expression would have softened, though when returning your gaze upward, he'd been visibly taken aback, eyes wide and lips parted.  "Whaddya say Geto-san?" Gojo's added emphasis on the term had caused you to outwardly cringe, a reminder of one of the lower moments in your life.  "Be quick." Short and spiteful, yet the words you'd wanted to hear most. You'd fought to hide the growing grin across your face, undeniably shocked by the permission you'd been granted. Gojo laughed at the display, hand languidly laying itself upon your shoulder before giving you a light shove. "Get your coat, sweetheart." 

When approaching the pink haired Ryomen, you'd expected a foul expression, rant, or some form of physical punishment - yet instead he'd remained still, face unreadable. He'd been leaning against broken brick, cigarette in hand, pushing himself from the back-wall of some run-down establishment to stand upright. Seeing him like this had feared you more - Sukuna wasn't one to be lax over broken rules. There would be a significant reason he hadn't reacted to your presence. 

"She insisted-" Geto had began his defensive speech, though had stopped when Sukuna had raised a hand with the shake of his head. Holding the half smoked cigarette had been bloodied fingers, cuts decorating pale knuckles. "Probably better she's here for this." The words had your chest tightening, drop within your stomach when your gaze lingered over the wounded hand, being left to imagine the face that had been on the other side of his fist. "They've got a bounty on you. Saying we owe them money - the Zen'in's own you now." 

There hadn't been long to process his statement as he'd taken a step forward, another drag of his cigarette through stiff lips. "They've got Toji on her." 

Although you hadn't understood the weight of this comment, you could feel the men beside you tense, a quick glance toward Geto telling you all you'd needed to know. His skin had paled, and eyes widened. 

"Are you armed?" The question had added mass to your shoulders, a realization that your freedom had been coming to a close. Toji would have to be bad for all three men within your vicinity to be uncomfortable.

"Sukuna, we can't-" Eyes watering, you'd traced over the handgun tucked within your waistband, metal cooling trembling fingertips. "You can't do anything. This is it." 

Sukuna shook his head defensively, quick to begin a bitter reply and deter you from a path of righteousness. Though, the pop of a gunshot had taken stage before he'd had a chance to stutter more than a syllable, hands flying toward belt. Your fingers wrapped around the grip of the weapon you hadn't intended to use as you searched the alleyway for a body, adrenaline fueling your faster reaction time. Two men had stood at the entrance, the taller of the two aiming his own pistol in your direction. As he took steps toward you, the sunlight had hit his face, revealing a tilted smile, lips kissed by a thick scar. 

"Hands up, pretty girl." His voice had been rugged and deep, teeth bearing as he'd awaited your movement. You'd hesitated before raising both hands, persuaded only when his friend had taken a step forward, shotgun between his hands aimed toward Geto, who had been stood closest to the alley's entrance. 

"Toji. She's not armed." Sukuna's monotone voice didn't waver as he'd glanced at his allies. He'd hoped his lie would pass - you could sense his tension if the other's hadn't. "Ryomen. This your cousin?" Toji exhaled in amusement. "Been looking for her. Healthy bounty on your head, kid." His laughter had been entwined with malice, blood running cold as you'd met with green eyes. 

"You hate the Zen'ins. What changed?" Sukuna had asked, though had been shut down through Toji's quickfire response.  "Money's money. Hand her over, 'n we'll let you live." He'd used his left hand to usher you toward him, jagged smile increasing the panic you'd felt frozen by. 

Sukuna had withdrawn his own weapon, and Toji's expression soured at his movement. 

It had been a split second decision. 

You pulled your pistol from your jacket, aiming toward Toji's chest and pulling trigger. His eyes had widened in shock as he'd stumbled backward, wounded. It hadn't been fatal, though enough to stun him as your barrel aimed toward his partner.  His body had fallen backward much faster than Toji's had, a clear display of you accuracy. Before the black haired half had time to react, you'd ran, left hand instinctively grabbing hold of Sukuna's wrist. 

Only when Sukuna had slumped against the kitchen table, drops of blood dripping over the aged wood, had realized he'd been wounded. Your eyes set over the bullet hole in his bicep, a crimson patch darkening his jacket sleeve. 

"You were shot?" Your concern had been evident as the question had came to fruition through a concerned shout. He'd smiled in amusement, a gentle shake of head and pained laugh through chest.  "When you shoot someone who's aiming a gun, they'll pull the trigger." There was a tightness in his voice as Gojo had pulled his arm through the final layer of clothing, revealing the injury over skin. Geto had already placed a few items over the kitchen table, latex gloves stretched over hands after pushing his sleeves back, inspecting the wound. 

"Satoru, tourniquet." With Geto's voice quiet, Gojo disappeared for a brief few moments before re-emerging with a tie in hand, wrapping it over Sukuna's upper arm and pulling it tightly. "You're lucky that Zen'in had started to stumble before he shot, or you would've had Sukuna killed." 

"Zen'in?"  "He doesn't like the name, goes by Fushiguro. But, he's a Zen'in." Gojo explained while taking a seat at the table. Sukuna had leaved forward, wincing as a needle threaded through the wound.  "And, you're lucky there was an exit wound." Geto had added to the statement. "Though, your quick thinking likely saved one of us - so thanks, I guess." It had been obvious that the gratitude had pained him to say, though you'd accepted it anyway. 

"Do you think they'll find me soon?" You questioned, picking at the hem of your shirt as Geto finished the stitching. The fact you had little control over the outcome of both you life and your allies lives had irked you, a heaviness residing in your chest.  "It's likely they're already narrowing it down - Toji will tell them what he knows if they offer him enough money."  "You should just give me over, Sukuna. Get the money." A half joke, an attempt to lighten the mood. Though, when the tired, annoyed eyes had met your own, you'd realized the words had only hurt him more than intended. 

"What if you returned home with a husband?" Getou's abrupt inquiry had caught you off guard, but you considered the scenario nonetheless, fighting the urge to question why he'd asked, instead manifesting an educated answer.

"My father would have him killed." You spoke with a sourness, eyes remaining to cling to the floor. His attempts at a solution mirrored thoughts you'd had over the past week, though no fix had been found. The only options you'd had were to remain in hiding, or to accept your future as a Zen'in, benefiting everyone other than yourself. 

"What if you married someone they couldn't kill?" His suggestion left you dumbfounded, a muddled flurry of stutters as you'd exhibited your confusion to his ask. "Good luck finding someone powerful and willing to marry me." 

A person the Zen'ins couldn't touch would be a rarity within this world. Now your name had been made known to them, your place as a pawn in the Ryomen and the Zen'in's game, there had been an impossible chance of escape. You were raised purely for the benefit of your clan.

"I know someone." Geto's comment pulled you from your thoughts, another bought of self-deprecating laughter and rolling eyes shot toward him. There had been a glimmer of hope within your mind, yet you wouldn't display it to the men before you, instead residing back into refusal to protect your own ego. If you'd taken his words as banter, you would suffer less pain than to cling onto the premise of false-hope. 

"Satoru." Geto stated, gesturing to the pale, white haired and blue eyed friend beside him. Gojo's reaction had reflected your own; bewilderment. The brunette glanced between the two of you as you'd remained in mutual silence, awaiting his explanation.  "Satoru, think about it." Your eyes met Gojo's briefly before he'd returned his attention to his friend. "You'll be in her position soon - the strongest of you family and heir of Six Eyes; do you think your father will die before you give him a grandson to continue the business?" His theory had weight to it, but you brushed him off, watching Gojo's expression change from confusion to thought. "Geto, come on-" You began, voice gaining his attention. 

"I'll do it." Gojo spoke through upturned lips, both gazes returning to settle over his face. "I couldn't turn down the opportunity to mess with affairs that weren't mine to begin with - and fucking with my family is an added bonus." His playful grin paired with the prospect of being legally bound to him had sent heat through your body, mouth ajar while you'd lost yourself within the vision of a wedding day between yourself and Gojo Satoru.

"Gojo, this is serious." You began, narrowing your expression when looking into his own. "This is your future on the line." You took a sharp breath inward. "Not to mention, marrying me would mean having children down the line-" The rant had started, and Gojo had allowed a playful smirk to etch over his features.  "I'd be happy to fu-" His interruption was much to your distaste, the unwanted suggestion causing your stomach to churn.  "Use your brain for a minute and think about this as an adult!" The sudden outburst caused his eyes to widen before relaxing, mouth still curved upward as he leaned into the back of his chair.  "I've already decided, sweetheart. We'll go to the registry office tomorrow - Suguru and Sukuna can be our witnesses."

For a marriage planned with less than a day prior, it had been executed with ease. The four of you had been brought into a small room, a registrar stood to your left as you'd taken Gojo's hands within your own. As he'd held your fingers between his, a cheap ring Sukuna had sourced from a nearby jewelers slid over your finger, you'd swallowed back your anxieties and listened as he'd recited his vows. 

You'd repeated the action, his calloused hands maintaining the gentle contact between your own as you had spoken much more timidly than he had. Though you'd done so with some reluctance, you had looked into his eyes as you'd repeated after the registrar, a fluttering in chest. Even if this wasn't real, nor was it love, there was some form of excitement within your fear. Though, you wouldn't tell a soul. 

After only ten minutes, you'd left bound by law' a much larger meaning within your families than to yourselves. From this day forward, you were to be labelled as a Gojo. You had expected that crippling weight to ease as you held the wedding certificate in your palm, yet somehow, it had just changed into a new anxiety. 

You had gone against your parent's wishes, as had Satoru, and for that, you knew there would be a cost. 

reblogs and comments help creators more than just liking <3

a/n: after posting the teaser for this in MARCH, i have finally finished it!! i hope you enjoyed :,) i'm putting tags below, i'm so sorry if you forgot about this and are confused by the notif !!

tags: @ritsatoru @tomiokas-lunchbox @outrofenty @cherryblossiren @thisbicc @obitohno

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru jjk x reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fic #satoru fic #gojo fic #gojo satoru fic #satoru gojo fic #jjk fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen fics #anime x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo fic #gojo marriage

[toms-cherry-trees]

Congrats on 1.5k, Mars!! 🥳

Here's my gif submission for you - maybe something fluffy here with our love, Tommy? 💙

Thank you so much!

I am SO sorry this took so long! Life moves too fast and I do too slow :( I hope this fluff meets the expectations because I went out of my comfort zone to write pure fluff with no dash of angst for angsty Tommy

Mars 1.5K Celebration

The One || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: None really, just Tommy being possessive but in a funny/romantic way and a bit cheeky

Everything is a haze. The autumnal wind pricking your cheeks like fine pins, the rustle of the dried autumn leaves swirling around your feet. Church bells echo far away in the distance, or so it seems, for you cannot hear anything above the thumping in your ears. An unpleasant heat crawls up your spine and settles inside your head, your face blazing as the wooden doors swing open and the gazes of a hundred people or more turn in your direction. All eyes, all attention on you, the quiet noises of the hall come to an abrupt halt upon your arrival. The smiles are on every face; they had all been waiting for you.

After all, you are the bride.

The church is packed; you can only guess who half the guests are. Your entire extended family only makes up a quarter of those seated inside, and the groom’s family is no more than a handful of people sitting in the first rows. Even adding friends and acquaintances, you still can only wonder why there are so many people inside. But everyone smiles at you like they have known you your entire life. You try to smile back, despite your face being barely visible under the exquisite embroiders of the long veil. 

Suddenly, you swing from not being able to feel anything to feeling it all in an overpowering wave. The diadem you wear is too heavy, burdening down the crown of your head and promising a most marvellous headache for later in the evening. Your feet keep catching on the hem of the gown; your grip around your father’s arm tightens, terrified of the meagre possibility of tripping and faceplating in the aisle. You are positive one of your earrings is ready to fall, despite feeling the tight bite of the clasp secured on your earlobe. 

However, it all fades into nothingness the moment you focus your gaze upon the altar. Tommy stands there, dashing in his suit with a corsage of lilies of the valley pinned upon his breast, matching the dainty white flowers from your bouquet, mixed with softly coloured carnations. Arthur stands at his side as best man, a cheeky smirk upon his lips as he leans closer to Tommy to whisper something in his ear, both sets of blue eyes locked on you. 

And then the groom smiles.

He actually smiles, an event so rare one ought to write the date down to never forget such an occurrence. He actually seems to be attempting to hold back, biting his lower lip tight to avoid his mouth from breaking into a full grin. But the closer you come, the harder it becomes for him to hold it back. He stares at your approaching figure like he has just won the biggest prize in the lottery and is just waiting for it to be delivered to his eager hands. 

The moment you are by his side, he lifts your veil and throws it back. Tommy has half a mind to tell Jeremiah to skip the paraphernalia and just go straight to the pivotal moment. Not even bother to ask if anyone opposes the union; that person would find themselves filled with lead in an alley before the end of the day. 

“I am glad to see you came, Mrs Shelby” His warm breath caresses your ear, and even though your eyes are fixed on the priest, you know he is smirking.

“I am not yet Mrs. Shelby sir. I still have time to change my mind. That is why I have the car with engine running around the corner”

Your cheekiness is met with a playful tap of his shoe against your heel “I’d love to see you try to get away from me, love” While the ceremony progresses, he keeps his arm around you, not caring that it is not proper. After all, Tommy had never been one to care for appropriateness and he is not going to start now, now with his little wife so close to being his forever. When Jeremiah asks the crowd if anyone opposes the union, Arthur takes a step forward and points his finger at the masses, as if daring a soul to open their mouth. But no such trouble arises and at last, comes the moment your heart has been in somersaults for.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride”

~

People dance and glide across the dancefloor, glasses of champagne and whiskey coming and going at a dizzying pace. The most formal instances of the celebration had been left behind and the guests are now letting loose. Arthur has his tie around his head and it's being spun in place by John and Finn, just like little children playing ‘pin the tail’, although this seems more of a ‘plunk the drunk’. Ada is engaged deep in conversation with two other women, and whatever it is she is saying, the listeners seem to agree wholeheartedly with her. Polly is dancing with one of your uncles, and you presume by the look in her eyes that their night might end upstairs. 

You sit next to Tommy, his arm lazily thrown over your shoulders while you feed him bites of cake. For you he endured all the silly things, like cutting the cake together, drinking champagne with your arms linked, and he held your hand tight during the speeches to keep himself from tossing a piece of bread at John’s head. He let himself be paraded like a prop for your happiness, and now he relishes on one of those sweet moments where there are only you two and everything else is just background noise. 

“I am glad to see you did not run away, Mrs Shelby” He brushes his thumb down the line of your jaw, tickling your skin in a most marvellous way. The smile makes it to your lips without you noticing; you’ve smiled so often that evening you are positive your cheeks will be numb tomorrow.

“Hm, well yes. I decided that I wanted to try out what you had to offer” Your hand cups his cheek, delicate touch of your fingertips against his sharp cheekbone making him lean into your touch instinctively, his head tilted in the right angle to press his forehead to yours “Besides, the getaway car ran out of petrol”

“If it had not, I would have sent John out to put nails in the tires” His index lifts your chin, the gentle yet firm gesture ensuring you do not shy away from his gaze “You see, once something is mine, I never let it go, even if it tries to escape me” He leans in for a kiss, but you stop it with a gentle touch of your fingertip on his lips

“You see, I am yours now. But that does not mean you get to slack” Your hooded gaze fixates on his lips, still parted and ready for that kiss “You have to do a very good job to keep your wife…fulfilled. Isn’t that what they say? Happy wife, happy life?”

His strong arm falls from your shoulders to your waist, pulling you close so abruptly that even your chair drags across the floor. “Well Mrs Shelby, how about we go upstairs so I can show you how much of a good job I can do to keep you full and filled?”

#marsie writes #mars 1.5k celebration #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby blurb

[moumouton4]

A very intimate sex with aged Muichiro up after Marriage? They could be in the hot springs ir in Muichiro’s mannsion? 🤭

-🧡

First Time As Bride and Groom || Muichiro Tokito x fem!reader

A/n : Gosh it's a plot I've had in mind with another character around August 😍 I think the plot is self-sufficient, so let's keep the hot spring for another time !

Warnings : Muichiro is aged up ofc , he is a but stressed at first, penetrative sex, mention of bulge, soft vanilla sex, pregnancy maybe if you squint but the end if open on this subject, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 1892

He has been standing close to you all day, a silent protector whose eyes only on your remained. You were glowing in that wedding dress ( could be a suit as well ) despite having already seen you in so many other outfits or without, you've never looked so enchantingly beautiful in the past. His eyes drifted down to the delicate skin of your left arm, where the lace at the bottom of your top reached, descending to your hand, where your wedding ring adorned your finger just above the engagement ring he'd given you almost a year ago.

All these little details - the way your hairstyle loosened with hours of dancing and celebrating, how your eyes shined with the lights hung across the room - he was able to catch a glimpse of this because he'd stayed close to you all evening. And yet there as you walked, soft silent steps on the tiled floor of Muichiro's mansion, testament of your years of experience as a slayer, your little hand in his, he had the impression that it was the first time all evening he'd stood so close to you. He could smell your perfume as if he hadn’t all evening, and he noticed some glitter in your hair as if it wasn't the first thing he had seen earlier when he first kissed your forehead upon seeing you out of the horse-drawn carriage.

As per usual you were leading the way, he who usually was a bit distracted by the world around you was now keenly aware of the destination you were heading to. His hands got clammier with the increasing anticipation of what was to come. Finally you arrived at your shared room, a room as the name says it you have been sharing for at least 4 years now. You both knew what was going to happen tonight - well more this morning - and somehow even if it wasn't something new that was about to unfold here, he felt kinda giddy at the thought of it… you were married now.

You let go of his hand as you finally entered the room, your dress graciously sweeping across the floor, you just couldn't stand your heels anymore. So you sat on your bed to finally be able to take them off. Meanwhile Muichiro took care of the door that he closed carefully. Once this was done, he turned around, leaning his back on it, watching you from afar, a slight pressure rising in his stomach. It was as if he was… stressed ?

Feeling the tension in the air, you rose from the bed, sighed with relief when your feet finally made contact with the chilly floor ( best sensation after you take your heels off ) as you close the gap between you and him. Your hands came to rest on his chest and started unbuttoning his tuxedo, meanwhile his instinctively came to rest on the curve of your hips.

Then you worked your way up to the bow he had around his neck. When you finally untied the ribbon, freeing his throat it was as if he was breathing for the first time since the beginning of the day, however a lump formed in his throat because he knew it was coming. He had no choice but to be up to the task, and not let down your expectations. Your arms circled his neck and pulled him into you, so you could untie his hair that also had been stylized. His face came to rest against your shoulder, his mouth peppering kisses on your skin. He sighed with contentment when you delivered his hair from the tension of the hair band.

Slowly his hands traveled up your back “Can I ?” he asked politely, as if he didn’t already know the answer. His fingers toying with the zip at the top of your dress while he waited for you to answer.

A quiet “Yes” escaped your lips, prompting him to slowly unzip the back of your dress, then sliding it down your shoulders. Meanwhile your fingers were busy unbuttoning his dress shirt, slowly revealing his toned chest, onto which you left a quick kiss,effectively staining his immaculate skin with your lipstick.

As he finally got your dress off of you his breath hitched. You looked absolutely ravishing, and he had only one desire, to quickly get rid of the last pieces of garment and have you in your bed beneath him. However, when you turned your back to him so he could unclasp your bra, the self-confident look he had had the second before disappeared, giving way to a certain apprehension he had managed to conceal until now. His fingers fumbled slightly against the silky fabric, he frowned 

to his inability to do something as common to him as undressing you. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but before he could do anything, you turned back to him.

"Muichiro ? Are you all right ? I asked you if you wanted to sit down but you didn't answer" you asked softly, an ounce of concern etching on your face.

"Sorry" he murmured, leading you cautiously to the bed, where he let you settle on the fresh sheets. He took his place beside you, silence filling the room once more.

"Are you tired ?" you roused him from his reverie by placing your hand on his "Can we postpone this until tomorrow if you like ?" you offered, the day had been long and you understood that he might not be in the mood to make love tonight.

But he shook his head, his strands of hair bouncing to the sides delicately "No it's not that"

You tilted your head to the side, not understanding what the problem was. I mean sure you were a little stressed for your first time as a groom and bride, it was both exciting and stressful but you- wait a minute.

"Are you stressed... about it ?" you asked, hoping not to upset him.

"Don't say things that make you look stupid" he was quick to refute. But inwardly he was rather insulting himself, because he knew you surely were able to hear his heartbeat as he sat there, which seemed to want to get out of his chest as quickly as possible.

You rubbed the back of his hand in a comforting manner "Me too" you confessed. His eyes widened at your revelation "You know, there's nothing to worry about, we can just do what we always do. No need to put on a show" you hoped your words would put him at ease.

In response he ran his hand through his hair, a long sigh escaping his lips "We're married now... I just thought I'd better live up to it" he mumbled, clearly not comfortable with the vulnerability his words brought.

You leaned in slightly and kissed his jawline, your hair tickling his bare chest "You're always more than up to the task Muichiro" you whispered, your breath brushing his ear, prompting a shiver to run down his spine.

Him ? Up to it ? He lifted his head, his blue eyes boring into yours as if he wanted to make sure your statement was true. You nodded, and finding what he was looking for, his hand intertwined with yours, your wedding rings reflecting the little light that was in the room. He moved a little closer to you and for his other hand unclasped your bra "You're the most precious creature in this world" he whispered, his eyes now wandering down to your chest.

You blushed at his compliments, a small moan escaping your mouth as he pulled you to his knees, his hands naturally taking the place your underwear had had a moment before. He continued to explore your body, his mouth now busy sucking a hickey from the tender skin of your neck. You leaned against his warm chest, the warmth emanating from him comforting. But the longer you stayed on his lap, the more you became aware of the bulge forming in his suit pants.

"I need you Y/n" he murmured, his hand already making its way to your panties to remove them.

"Then take me" you sighed with a groan as he continued marking your neck.

He lifted you off him for a moment, settling you a little further back on the soft mattress so he could get rid of his increasingly tight clothing. Hearing the sound of his belt, you instinctively looked up to see him, your eyes lingering for a moment on the bulge in his pants before making eye contact with him. He glanced briefly at your panties, letting you know in non-verbal language that he wanted you to take them off while he peeled off the remaining layers of clothes he had on.

So you did, and when he returned to your side he wasted no time, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently laying you down on the bed. His erect cock, which was jutting from between his legs poking at your thigh. You shivered in anticipation, and you weren't the only one, as he breathed heavily above you. And suddenly he captured your lips in a searing kiss, with a force that was far from the chastity with which he'd pecked your lips when you were pronounced husband and wife.

His hand came to gauge the temperature between your legs, to make sure you were ready for him or if you needed him to prepare you. But once his hand made contact with the warm wetness between your legs, a growl went up his throat "You wanted it that bad huh ?"

There he was, the teasing man you married, it didn't take long for nature to take its course. He lined up with your entrance pushing enough to just fit the tip "I'll be gentle" his words melted your heart ( "Please don't" 😂 )

His hips continued to do the work until he was perfectly and fully nestled deep inside you. Your breaths froze for a moment, while you could feel each other's heartbeat.

"Are you ready ? Can I move ?" he asked to be sure of your readiness before starting to thrust in and out. It didn't take long for the room to fill with your moans, soon followed by his own low ones. His head nestled in your neck, where he resumed his work of leaving more love bites.

He pressed your body against his, leaving no space where air could slip in and separate you "You are divine" he praised.

Your hands moved from his forearms to rest on his hips before wrapping around him to pull him even closer to you. When he was satisfied with the marks on your neck he raised his head and sloppily kissed your mouth, his growls sliding directly between your lips. His eyes never leaving yours, as if a secret conversation were unfolding between these four walls.

It certainly wasn't the first time you had made love. But for a moment you saw his eyes sparkle as if something important was happening. As if you were living in a moment suspended outside time, just the two of you. That was the difference. He had made you his so many times before in so many different ways, and tonight he made you his in an even more beautiful way.

#demon slayer #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba imagine #kimetsu no yaiba smut #muichiro tokito #muichiro tokito imagine #muichiro tokito x reader #muichiro tokito smut #kny muichiro #muichiro x reader #muichiro smut #request #smut #miri-writes

[marvelobsessed134]

This is my first masterlist. Second masterlist is on the pinned post in my profile

How to request, guidelines etc.

Marvel Women

Kate Bishop

Rizz You Up

Kinktober day two: Ghostface!Kate

Kinktober day eight: overstimulation

Natasha Romanoff

Caught

Little skirt

Package delivered

Watching you

Young, and dumb

Need help

GP!Beefy!Nat wakes up to you riding her abs (Drabble)

Captivity (My pretty little mermaid)

Dirty thoughts

Sundresses and breeding kinks

Wanda Maximoff

Control

Best friends sister

Julia Cornwall

In her web

Marvel Men

Bucky Barnes

Honeymoon Suite

Meet Cute

“Want me to suck your cock while driving?”

The one with the slutty maid and the sexually frustrated super soldier

Love me tender series

Steve Rogers

Sam Wilson

Peter Parker

Tony Stark

Mötley Crüe

Nikki Sixx

I’m only me when I’m with you

Don’t be shy, honey

Streamer!Reader headcannons

Behind closed doors

Good girl

Small town romance

Who do you belong to?

You shouldn’t be doing that…

Sneaking around

Kinktober day eleven: public sex

BDSM head cannons

Somebody’s watching me

Better? Better.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Tommy Lee

Midnight Comfort

Teenagers In Love

Runaway bride

Can we keep him!?

Friends help each other

Go team

Maroon

Little drummer girl

Sparks Fly series

Pretty When You Sleep

Plus One

Kinktober day nine: manhandling/tights ripping

Halloween party shenanigans

Attention you deserve

Surprise

Delicate flower series

First time

BDSM head cannons

It’s gonna be okay

Vince Neil

Thunderstorms

Sweet dreams

Please

It’s the little moments

Shades Of Cool

Our honeymoon (part one) part two

Kinktober day one: daddy kink

Plaything

She’s a riot grrrl

Mick Mars

Mermaid Motel

Streamer!reader headcannons

You know you want it

Kinktober day four: pet play

Multi-members

Two is better than one

Halloween/fall headcannons

Groupie Love (Gang Bang)

Cinderella (only writing for Tom and Eric)

Tom Keifer

Did you do that to her?

Up behind her with a pool stick

BDSM headcannons

“What is it, honey?”

Tom finding out you’re pregnant

Eric Brittingham

A pleasant surprise

Kiss (only writing for Paul, Tommy, and Gene)

Paul Stanley

I can see you

Underneath the surface

I fall to pieces when I’m with you

Prank call gone wrong

Teach you how

Tommy Thayer

You’re enough

One bed?!

Gene Simmons

Kinktober day 6: possessiveness

Guns N Roses

Izzy Stradlin

Kinktober day 5: handcuffs

Kinktober day 7: crying kink

Slash

Kinktober day 10: vouyerism

Barbie The Movie

Barbie

Starting to really like the real world

You can be the boss (STRLTRW part two, series masterlist coming soon)

CEO!Barbie AU masterlist

Marvel Cast/other celebrities

Sebastian Stan

Put me in a movie

W.A.S.P. (Only writing for Blackie)

Kinktober day 3: humiliation

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Domesticated

Daisy Jones and The Six

Daisy Jones

Her good slut

G!P Daisy x Stripper!Reader

LA Guns (Only Kelly atm)

Mistaken

Cindy Crawford

Picnics

Joan Jett

Our secret moments

#masterlist #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel women #marvel men #Motley Crue #Cinderella #cinderella band #glam rock #hard rock #rock n roll

[andydrysdalerogers]

Can I Count on Forever? ~ Chris Evans

Chris Evans x Senator Reader

Word Count ~ 4.2K

Songs: The Man by Taylor Swift; Paper Rings by Taylor Swift; Lover by Taylor Swift 

Its been three years since you met Chris and today, you take one of the biggest steps of your life.

Part Three of the "Can I?" mini series - Part One // Part Two // Main Masterlist

Warnings: fluff, SMUT (p in v, oral – female receiving, slight dominance kink), mentions of cheating, accusations of cheating, political nonsense. 

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Just a quick message. While I have tried to keep this politically neutral, I will say that I have no idea what any real-world person’s views are and will not assume. Also, I am not an expert in politics and will not claim to be.  In the US, we have an election in November. Please, inform yourself on all of your local, state and federal races and issues and remember to register and vote.  You can’t complain if you don’t vote! 

Your POV 

Clack.  

Clack.  

Clack.  

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked to your destiny. It was the end of a fairy tale or the start of one, and you weren’t sure if you could get through the double doors. You thought back on your life, closed your eyes and prayed.  

It had been a year since Chris proposed and it was here, your wedding day.  As you woke on that bright May morning, you reached for your fiancé and found the bed empty.  But a smile crossed your face.  He wasn’t in the hotel with you.  He was at home with Dodger and his groomsmen while you were at the hotel with your bridal party.  As you stretched, there was a knock at the door.  “Room service!” 

Curiously, you opened the door, and the bellman pushed a cart in. “Mr. Evans asked us to deliver breakfast and champagne to you to start your special day right.  Congratulations ma’am.”  He stepped back out and you squealed.  Opening the cover, Chris had sent your favorite breakfast, along with coffee and champagne. Savoring the meal, you sent a text to Chris.  

YN: Thank you, love, for my breakfast!  My fiancé: You’re welcome.  Only six more hours before I see you again and you make an honest man outta me.  

You hugged the phone to your chest when your maid of honor knocked yelling for you to open.  

A few hours later, you were waiting in your bridal suite, your father comes in and sees you for the first time.  “Oh, my baby, you look beautiful,” tears forming in his eyes  

“Thank you, daddy,” your own tears welling up.  

“No, don’t cry.”  He handed you a tissue.  “Chris is a lucky man. I am so happy you found each other.”  

The wedding planner knocked.  “We’re ready for you.”  

As you stood at the double doors, you thought back to how you got here. How you fought for each other, against the world. The doors opened and all you could see was Chris.  

Chris POV 

I stood at the altar, waiting for those doors to open again and let my beautiful girl come to me. The past three years had been a whirlwind, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  All the bridesmaids make it down the aisle and little Stella finishes with her flowers and the music changes.  Everyone stands and the doors open. My jaw falls open. I can’t see anything else but her. She’s an angel, all in white, gliding on her dad’s arm. The tears are building up in my eyes at how beautiful she looked, my little senator.  

Once she reached me, I could feel a tear rolling down and she reached up and wiped it away.  “Please stop crying,” she whispered.  “You’re gonna set me off.”  

I could see her lip tremble a little bit.  I kissed her hand, "I love you," I whispered.  

We kept it traditional, reciting words that have been said by couples like us thousands of times over.  When I slip that ring on her finger, it was like a part of me that was missing got put back and I’m overwhelmed.  

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.  Chris, you may kiss your bride.” 

“Finally,” I breathed as I took her face in my hands and kissed those lips that had haunted my dreams since the first day I met her. It was perfect and when I pulled away, her lips were just a touch redder and more swollen, her eyes danced.  

“I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Evans!” 

The whole church cheered, and I took my wife’s hand in mine and walked out. After three years and one horrible misunderstanding, I finally have my girl on my arm as my wife.  

The reception is amazing.  YN and the wedding planner did a great job. It's intimate and romantic but not over the top.  Her father wanted to take out a house loan to pay for whatever YN wanted but she refused. “I don’t need you to be in debt Daddy.  Give me a reasonable budget and I’ll make it work.” That is my girl, always modest. But this is a once in a lifetime, if I have any say in it and I want it to be her dream. I talked to her dad on the side.  

“Mr. YLN, I just want YNN to have everything she wants, so get your budget together and I’ll double it. I want this to be a gift to her but never find out, because her smile will be my thanks.”  

It worked like a charm because I can see the tears in her eyes as she looks at the room and see her vision come to life. “Oh my...” she whispers. I take it all in, the crystal vases holding the red roses, tea lights on all the tables. The walls have a soft light to them, and the dance floor is decorated with lanterns and rose petals.  “It's perfect.”  

“It's you, my beautiful wife.” 

It's hours before I can take her home, well, to our honeymoon suite.  She’s exhausted, riding up in the elevator. I scoop her up in my arms, her heels already dangling in my hand. “You going to sleep, baby?” 

“Hmm, no, not yet. Just tired.” She smiles at me. “It was the perfect day.”  

“Oh yeah? Something important happened?” I tease as we get to our honeymoon suite.  

“Not really,” she shrugged. “Just tied myself to the perfect man.”  

“Sounds fun.” I had one more surprise for her. I opened the door and carried her in. The room was decorated in candles and roses, a bottle of champagne next to her favorite snack.  I had always dreamt of that night we had by the fire after I had proposed.  It was perfect and I wanted to recreate it for her.  Except this time, the hotel laid out blankets and pillows in a beautiful bed.  

“Chris,” she whispered, and I could tell she loved it. 

I set her on her feet and pressed my front to her back. I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I was an idiot the first time I made love to you in front of a fire.”  I found the zipper on her dress and slowly began to bring it down. “I was apologizing for being the biggest jerk in the world after you protected me. I wasn’t appreciating the setting or taking my time with you.  But this time,” the zipper was down and i kissed her shoulders, “this time I want to worship you because you made me the happiest man in the world.”  I pushed the bejeweled straps of her gown down and she gasped at the sudden cool air.  

“Oh fuck,” I murmured as I took in the lacy white corset, teeny tiny white panties and stockings. She looked like a goddam angel that was going to send me straight to heaven.  I lifted her out of the gown and spun her to look at me. “This is like a present for me,” as I run a finger over the top of the corset.  

“Unwrap me Chris,” she said in a low sultry voice.  

And I crumble.  

Because there is no way I would say no to this gorgeous creature right now.  

I kiss her softly and pull away, kissing her forehead before turning her around again. I undo the ribbon holding the corset closed and let it fall away.  I kneel down and roll down the stocking and tip her foot so she can lift, and I can remove one stocking, repeating on the other.  I run my hands up her legs, feeling her shiver under my touch, listening to her breath hitch. I kiss right under each cheek, giving a nibble on one.  

“Chris,” she moans, “stop teasing.”  

“Is that an order Senator?” I smile against her skin. “Or is it a request?  Because,” I spin her again, so she is facing me while I’m still on my knees, “if it's an order, then we have a problem.”  

“What problem?” 

“I remember you promised me that I would only take orders from you in public.”  I kissed around her belly button. She moans and her head tilts back. “But I would give the orders in our bedroom.”  

“We’re not in our bedroom,” she argues.  “We’re... oh.... oh fuck,” she whimpers as I kiss over the scrape of lace she calls panties and press against her mound.  

“Want to try that again, Mrs. Evans?” I pull the lace down just enough so I can get my nose close to her center and inhale that scent that is only her.  

“I...” she studders and I chuckle. I yank the lace away from her body, ripping them off.  

“Chris!” 

“No,” I say in a husky voice.  “No orders from you, Mrs. Evans.  You want something, you beg for it.  because until we get back from our honeymoon, you are not in charge.  Who is in charge?” 

“Fuck,” she cries as I let my finger circle her clit.  “You’re...hmm... you’re in charge.”  

“Good girl.” I stood up and lifted her into my arms, wrapping her legs around me. “Such a good girl for me.” I walked us over to the fireplace bed and laid her down.  I took a long look at my prize, my angel, my wife. “God, I’m a lucky bastard.”  

I didn’t realize I said that out loud until she giggled. Then she grabbed the end of my undone bow tie and yanked me on top of her. She kissed me hard and then pulled away. “Please Chris, let me see my husband naked.”  

“Fuck me.” I pulled the tie off, straddled her and grabbed her wrists. I tied them together and lifted her arms above the head. “Naughty girl,” I said. “No touching now. Bad girls don’t get to touch.” She wiggled under me, trying to get relief from me.  

“I’m sorry, baby, please, I’m sorry. Let me touch you.”  

“No.” I stood up and started to strip. I unbutton my shirt slowly, working the cufflinks she had given me as a wedding present off carefully. She licked her bottom lip and I smirked. I was shirtless, which, if she had her way, she would keep me like this every day. I moved quickly with my belt and the button of my slacks.  She whimpered and I bit my bottom lip. “You should have stayed being my good girl, little senator.” 

“Chris, you’re being mean,” she whined.  

“Am I?” I let my pants hit the floor before I crawled up her body.  I kiss her inner thighs, sucking little bruises as I go. “I’m sorry sweetheart.” I kiss right above her clit, and she bucks at the sensation. I pin her hips and licked from the bottom to the top of her pussy. God, I love the way she tastes, the way she coats my tongue in her arousal. Fuck, do I love being in between her legs. “So good,” I tell her, “taste like heaven.”  I work my tongue in her, fucking her while my thumb presses down on her clit. “Fuck baby, you’re even tight for my tongue.”  

“Chris,” she mewled.  She was close, so fucking close.  

“Come for me little senator. That’s an order.”  I shoved two fingers into her cunt and sucked on her clit at the same time.  she shattered, crying out as her orgasm fluttered through her body. I made it last for as long as I could. I tease her relentlessly and get her right back on the edge. Then i pull away and she cries in frustration because I know her orgasm is fading.  I climb up her body, tasting every inch of skin I can until I can wrap her legs around my waist. “Hang on, baby.”  

She grips the straps around her wrists and then I force my way home.  She screams as I bury myself in her to the hilt.  But I’m not cruel.  I wait until she is comfortable and then rock into her, leting her feel every inch, every ridge, every vein of my cock along her ways. Fuck, she feels so good. I’ve only fucked her bare a couple of times and the feeling of her heat, how wet, how needy she is, I’m going to fucking die a happy man.  

“Harder Chris, fuck, please harder.” I grab her legs and push them over my shoulder so I can fuck her into the mattress.  She feels like fucking heaven and tighter in this position. I can’t believe I get to do this with my wife. She’s moaning and crying out from all the stimulation.  I don’t want to ever stop.  

Your POV 

Chris is fucking you to within an inch of your life.  You are in heaven, lost in the heavenly glow of sex and you need him.  “Chris, please,” you pleaded.  You know what he wants because you want it too.  He pulls out quick, making you cry before he flips you to your front and gets your ass in the air.  

“This pussy is magically,” he says, looking it over before he fills you again.  You have always loved this angle. You can feel everything and when he moves, you can feel his balls hitting your clit.  Its perfect.  

“C-chris, I can’t hold on,” you whine. “Husband please!” 

“Oh shit,” he moans, “that’s fucking hot.” He thrusts faster. “Say it again. Say! It!” 

You’re on the cusp of euphoria. “Chris, Husband please!” He ruts into you, reaching down to circle and stroke your clit and you break. You scream your release, gripping his cock, squeezing him until he released into you, coating you in his cum.  

“Fuck!” He pumps a few more times until he stops, lowering you gently to the bed, not ready to separate. You lay there on your sides, legs tangles to keep you connected, catching your breaths when you start to giggle.  “And what is so funny, my wife?” 

You take a breath to speak.  “You have a kink, baby. You like it when I called you husband.” You turn to look back at him. 

He smiles before leaning over and kissing you again. “I also like calling you Wife and you like it too. You clenched involuntarily and Chris hisses. He caressed your thigh. “Told you.”  

After Chris cleans you up and you both crawl into bed, you find myself laying on top of his chest. “I wish we could stay this way forever.” You place a kiss on his chest.  

“I wish we could too, little Senator, but then how will you rule the world?” 

Its a valid question. One you are excited to figure out.  

You’ve been married for two months and now you are at the National Convention. Getting married during an election season was crazy but your team and Chris’s said it would give you the best boost.  You were set to become the youngest and second woman nominated for the office of President.   

As you stood in the wings of TD Gardens in Boston, Chris watched as you paced back and forth, looking over your note cards for your acceptance speech. “Sweetheart, don’t be nervous.”  

“That’s easy for you, Chris, you’re an actor.  You perform for millions.”  

He chuckled and shook his head. “I act in front of a camera for twenty people and then they watch after its edited. YN,” he stopped you and wrapped you in his arms. “You are a brilliant speaker. The people have nominated you, they believe in you.  I believe in you.” He tilted your head up so you would look at him.  “Go out there and be a rock star, Little Senator.”  

The convention went off without a hitch and it was the final three months of the campaign. It was grueling, city after city, town hall after town hall.  Chris could only be on the road with you for a few days at a time as ASP launched into the primer source for facts in the election.  He had to host panels and discussions. Video chats in between calls and meet and greets was not how you imagined your first few months of marriage but it could all be worth it. 

Chris POV 

I was late for our video date. “Fuck.” I was jogging to my office in the ASP offices so I could call YN, when I was stopped by Megan. “What’s up?” 

“Chris, there is an article floating around that claims the Senator had an affair right before the wedding.”  

My heart stopped.  

“What?” 

“The Enquirer has photos of her entering a hotel room that did not belong to the campaign. The room was rented out by someone named M. Capuano.” 

We made it to my office. I closed the door. “What does my wife’s team said?” 

Megan grimaced. “That’s the thing. They said they aren’t worried about it. Rachel said that she spoke to the Senator and if questioned, they are going with no comment.”  

I smiled. “That’s my girl. We’re saying the same thing, Megan. Thanks.” I turned to pick up my phone.  

Megan scoffed.  “There is no way we can go with no comment, Chris. They will tear her apart. You have to talk to her about.  She’s just not bringing herself down but you as well.”  

“I’ll talk to her. Give me five minutes.” Megan rolled her eyes and left my office as I called my wife. “Hello, my little Senator.”  

“Hi handsome!” She was flushed from running for her phone. She was heartbreakingly beuatfiul, her cream colored blouse clung to her curves that I love and gave just the hint of clevage. “How were your discussions?”   

“Really good, looks like the live numbers will be out highest yet.” I smirk. “Execpt for my last meeting.”  

She frowned. “With who?” 

“Megan. She wanted to bring attention to the fact that there is an article going aroung saying my wife is having an affair.”  

YN gasped. “Chris, you know I would never...” 

“I was nervous for just a second and then she told me the name the room was reserved under and it took everything in me not to laugh.” 

She looked confused. “I don’t understand.” 

“Sweetheart, remember when you had a swing in Virginia and I was able to see you and we kept it on the low.”  

“Yes,” she dragged out.  

“Well I couldn’t reserve the room under either of our names so my uncle helped me and reserve the room for me. M. Capuano. Uncle Mike.”  

I watched as the realization clicked. “Oh my gosh, they think I am having an affair with M. Capuano but really I’m having an affair with my husband.”  

I smirk as she laughs. “I don’t know what you are laughing at Senator. You’re having an affair.”  

“I sure am. The man really is hard to resist. Dark gripable hair, a beard that feels so good on my skin. Bluest eyes I ever seen. He’s built and has those arms that can hold you to him all night long.”  

“Fuck sweetheart, you can’t say stuff like when when I don’t have time right now.” I looked at my calendar on my computer. “I can be with you tomorrow morning and stay through the weekend.”  

“I’m looking forward to it Mr. Affair.”  

“I’m going to rock your world Mrs. Affair.  I love you.”  

“I love you more.”  

YN POV 

You’re nervous.  

This day is always nerve-racking.  

This isn’t your first one either.  

And hopefully it isn’t your last.  

Its election day. 

While you hadn’t given up your senate seat yet, it was something you were willing to do if the right opportunity presented itself. Say, being the President of the United States.  

But first, you needed to be elected there. You were back in California, awaiting for the results. Votes were being tally, the electoral college was making its decision and all you could do was wait.  

Which is not the easiest thing to do.  

Chris had been on the phone with his ASP team, checking results in major battleground states, counts on issues that were concerning to younger Americans. Every time he looked up to you, he would you a smile and mouth “i love you” to try and calm your nerves. Three years of this and he knew how to calm your nerves.  

The campaign had been hard, a woman running against an older, backward thinking man. The scandal of the car photos came back into play but your opponents own philandering with a woman not his wife, nullified that right away.  You had no secrets, other than your relationship with Chris.  You were caareful to only show what you wanted to the public to know.  Chris was or rather still is a famous movie star. He may have slowed down his films but he was never not working. ASP was his pride and joy, besides you, and it relected on how much the platform grew.  

It was nearing 8pm in California and the states were starting to be called. Every political forecaster predicted this race to be the tightest its ever seen. No one expected you to receive the nomination.  No one expected to make it this far. No one believe. Except Chris.  

He believed in you.  

You can feel him right behind you before he wraps his arms around you.  “Did you ever imagine being here Senator?” 

You shake your head. “I imagined a lot of things. I had dreams. But, to do this with you, now,” you look up at him, “I never imagined it like this.”  

For hours, you and. your family stood around, watching results. Chris mentioned that you should rest but you were too keyed up to lie down or even sit down. Hour after hour passed and the race was down to the final couple of states. Then the news anchor interrupted the talking heads on the news.  

“We are now prepared to make the call in Oregon. This evening has been historic in so many ways. But now we are ready to declare Oregon for...” 

Clack.  

Clack.  

Clack.  

Your heels clicked on the floor as you walked to your destiny. You assumed it would be hard, to run for president. To deal with the fall out. Your opponent had been cordial in his speech. He talked about uniting the country and not letting politics create a divide.  He was right, the country had to come together now and move forward.  

Chris POV 

Watching my girl waiting to be taken to her seat for the ceremony, it was heart wrenching.  She was so stoic and unnaturally quiet. She had on a beautiful red dress with white accents and her coat was the same blue as the american flag. She had been so brave through all of this. She kept her head up and was gracious. The embodiment of class.  She just had one more thing to do before we could move forward.  

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” 

“I’m scared,” she whispered.  

“Don’t be.  I’m right here.” I took her hand and we were walked to our seats. The ceremony was beautiful in the cold January air.  We listened to the poet laureate and the national anthem done by Taylor Swift. But then it was our cue, to do the part of the ceremony as instructed by the head of the inguration committee.  I smiled as I held out the bible, open to her favorite passage.  

I watched as my girl placed her hand on the bible and then raised her right hand.  

I, YN YMN Evans, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God.” 

The roar of the crowd sounded as she finished her oath. I leaned over to kiss my wife, my president. “Congratulation, madam President.”  

“Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting the new President of the United States and new First Gentleman, YN and Chris Evans!” 

Walking out to the inagural ball is surreal. This was our life now for the next four years. But I wouldn’t change it for the world.  As Harry Styles sang Adore You for us again, I held my wife in my arms. “Did you count on this, madam President.” 

She frowned for a second. “I don’t know if i like you callng me that. But no,” she smiled. “I was only counting on you.”  

“You can always count on me, love. Count on it forever.”  

“Just as long as I’m still your forever.”  She sighed as she leaned against me.  “Still not sure about the madam president thing.” 

“How about in public, you are madam President, but in private,” I spin her around and draw her close again, “you’ll always be my little senator.” 

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[random-thot-generator]

Thots go brrr so...

More medieval AU, this time with Good King John (Price).

Good King John who just wants his bratty Princess, dammit. A.K.A. - When a Good King Goes Bad

TW- MDNI 18+ Only- explicit sexual content, sexual situations and language, brief bloody violence, bit of bdsm- spanking, brat taming, mentions of bondage and impact play, my usual brand of fluffy smut

Notes - I know, I know... I've got two unfinished series and an embarrassing amount of WIPs in my drafts folder, but I can't help it. Soo... sorry, not sorry. No beta- embrace the imperfections.

warning banner by: @cafekitsune

-

Good King John, who went to a lot of trouble to earn your hand in marriage, only to have his best knight, Sir Simon - the Ghost, duped into delivering a chambermaid to him, instead. Oh, how you must have laughed, wicked little Princess that you are, thinking you had got one over on him. And you did, you tricksy little minx. Your trick worked, Princess, but playtime is over, now. It's time to come home and take your rightful place by his side as his queen.

Good King John, who makes the long journey to your kingdom to fetch you home himself, only to be thwarted again when your father, the conquered king, informs John that you snuck out of the castle under cover of darkness and escaped to parts unknown. John knows this is a lie, of course, but he can't fault your father for trying to protect his only child. Still, the wedding banns have been posted throughout the realm, so he will be taking his bride-to-be home with him, whether you or your father like it or not.

Good King John, who sends his spies out into your father's kingdom to discover what they can of your where-abouts. He knows well enough that it's the servants who are privy to everything that transpires within the walls of any castle, and so directs his spies to concentrate on them, specifically. It isn't long before their inquiries are soon rewarded.

Good King John, who is informed by one of his spies that you have disguised yourself as one of the servants at the castle. You've been masquerading as a male youth, a stable hand of all things, working and sleeping in the stables with the horses. His spies also report that you have also concocted a most devious scheme to lead John on a wild goose chase. You paid a sailor in silver coin to spread the rumor that he saw you boarding a ship bound for the Silk Coast, which is many weeks and leagues away. John can't help but be impressed by your adept little mind, wicked as it is. He has to reach down and adjust himself at the thought of soon having you all to himself.

Good King John, who decides to play along with your ruse, so orders his knights to commandeer a ship and begin the preparations for the long voyage to the Silk Coast. He must make it seem like he's fallen hook, line and sinker for your devious little plot. Later that evening, while dining with your father, the conquered king, and your stepmother, his trophy queen, John reveals to them his plans to follow in your wake and bring you home. He then requests to borrow one of your father's many servants for the journey. Thinking King John has fallen for your trick, your father happily acquiesces to his request. "You may take whichever servant suits your needs best," the conquered king offers magnanimously.

Good King John, who arrives at the stables before dawn, waking the stablemaster and telling him he is there to select a 'lad' from among the stable hands present. John spots you immediately, sleeping on a pile of hay. "That one will do," he says, pointing you out. The stablemaster, no wiser to the ruse than anyone else, kicks you awake and tells you to go with King John. Unable to refuse, what else can you do but go along with him or risk exposing yourself.

Good King John, who feels near giddy with excitement, knowing he now has his princess in hand. Sure, he could forfeit the gold he spent on chartering a ship and simply take you back to his castle, but then he'd have to lock you away and keep you under constant guard even after the two of you are wed. John knows he will have to win you over to tame your shrewish heart, and so decides to allow your ruse to continue.

Good King John, who boards the ship with you, having you lug his heavy saddlebags as you follow along behind him, instructing you to ready his cabin for him while he discusses the upcoming voyage with the captain. You nod and just barely catch yourself before you curtsy before him. Stable hands don't curtsy, you silly ninny! You give a quick bow and scurry away to do his bidding, thinking you'll sneak off the ship while he's distracted with the captain.

Good King John, who is no fool when it comes to your tricks, locks you inside the cabin then orders the captain to set sail immediately, trapping you aboard the ship with him. He returns later to find you glumly staring out of the porthole. "What's the matter, lad? Already feeling seasick?" he asks you, making a valiant effort to hide his smug smirk. He then has you join him on deck to watch your home recede into the distance as the sails billow and snap before catching the wind There's no escape for you now, but as soon as you put into the next port, you'll be gone.

Good King John, who orders you about like the servant you supposedly are, telling you to help swab the decks, then puts you to work in the galley. By the time he tells you to fetch his dinner and turn down his bed for the night, you're exhausted. Nothing pleases him more than to see your pinched expression when he sends you out yet again after dinner, this time to fetch him hot water so that he can wash. Even better is your look of dismay when you return only to be ordered to help him disrobe and bathe him.

Good King John, who revels in your awkward state as you help remove his clothing, stripping him down until he proudly stands before you in all his nude glory. You've never seen a grown man naked before and struggle to keep your eyes averted from his crown jewels as he patiently waits for you to wash every bare inch of his skin. Is this thing supposed to jut out like a jousting lance, you wonder as you take him in hand and drag your soapy fingers over his length.

Good King John, who is almost cross-eyed with the pleasure of your touch. Your soft hands have already lathered him from stem to stern, but to feel them now wrapped around his cock as you bathe him is almost his undoing. "Gods above! That's good enough, lad," he rasps out in a gravelly voice, clamping a hand around your wrists to stop your hands before he paints the front of your homespun tunic with his seed. You blink up at him with a fevered gaze, breaths softly panting.

Good King John, who listens to your exhausted little snores drift up from your pallet on the floor later that night, wanting nothing more than to pull you up on the narrow bed with him and test the strength of the ropes supporting his thin mattress. It is too soon for such things, unfortunately. Your curiosity has definitely been piqued, if your wide-eyed stare and firm grip on his cock were any indication, but he'll have to win over your heart and mind, if he's going to convince you to stay of your own accord. You're a willful creature, too smart and opinionated for your own good, but that's what first attracted him to you. He knows he's playing with fire, keeping you in his quarters, but he's certain he can control his desires long enough to win you over.

Good King John, who spends a week in close quarters with you aboard the ship. During this time, the duration of his sponge baths has lengthened considerably, taking much longer than the first time. John is more than happy to allow you to take your time as you become intimately familiar with his body, relishing your touch despite how torturous it is. He groans and his head falls back as your soapy hands cup his balls and lather his cock. Forcing himself to make you stop yet again finally breaks his iron will. Something has got to give, he decides. It's time to end this ruse of yours.

Good King John, who is at his wit's end, forms a most devious scheme of his own. After encouraging you to bathe and change in his cabin, he pretends to leave, saying he needs to speak with the captain. He waits outside the door and listens until he hears the splash of water, then enters the cabin again. There he finds you in all your naked splendor, a mortified expression on your face. "Well, well, what do we have here? I leave behind a young lad and return to find a comely wench in his stead." he says with a mock frown, not bothering to hide how his eyes rake over your nude form.

Good King John, who leans against the door, blocking your only exit as he glowers down at you. You grab the nearest bit of clothing, one of his shirts it turns out, and quickly don it to hide your nakedness from his hungry gaze, but it's too little too late. His blue eyes burn you with their avid intensity. A lie is already sitting on the tip of your tongue to explain your presence in his cabin, but then he takes the wind completely out of your sails when he reveals that he's known who you are the entire time. "Come now, Princess. No need to fret. I am your betrothed, after all. You don't need to hide from me. We'll treat the rest of this voyage as a pre-honeymoon, so we can get to... know each other better." All you can do is gape at him before the reality of your situation finally sinks in. "I will never marry you," you vow.

Good King John, who chuckles at your bluster, which only incenses you more. Unlike everyone else, however, he doesn't shrink away from your viperous temper, laughing at you when you begin to hurl whatever you can get your hands on at his head. He ducks a hairbrush, a cup and a bar of soap as he stalks forward to grip your arms, yanking you into his chest. "Rage all you want, Princess. It won't change your situation. Now calm yourself before I turn you over my knee." You sputter and spit, eyes narrowed in fury. "You wouldn't dare lay a hand on me!" you hiss at him.

Good King John, who takes your words as a challenge and is having none of your sass. Pulling you over to the bed, he sits down and has you draped over his knees so fast your head spins. Your bare bottom is exposed when he rucks his shirt up your back, holding your squirming form with ease as he brings his large hand down on the globes of your ass with a loud crack! You gasp in shock at the sound before fire needles into the skin of your bum. It's not a bruising strike, but the humiliation of being spanked lights a fire in your belly. Your efforts to escape double, but it's all for naught. He holds you in place like a misbehaving toddler and smacks your ass again. "Keep it up, you little brat," he says with a dark laugh. "You're long overdue for a proper punishment, anyway, you spoiled little thing."

Good King John, who spanks you until your cheeks glow red, your bratty behavior inciting his lust like nothing else. He's already hard as granite and having you squirming and moaning on his lap is only making it worse. His large hands knead and massage your plush bottom, watching the way your hips grind against his flexed thigh. He can see your 'punishment' has affected you in much the same way when he glimpses how swollen and wet your pretty cunny has become.

Good King John, who can't resist the temptation and slides his calloused fingers along the cleft of your bum, following its path between your legs, hissing at how wet he finds you. You go still at the contact, breath hitching in your throat as your back arches to his touch. No man has ever touched you down there before, and the feeling confuses you. Though you're loathe to admit it, you like how he's touching you, and Gods help you, you want him to keep doing it!

Good King John, who is hanging onto his control by a thread. Reining in his raging libido, he sits you up on his lap and brushes the last of your angry tears from your cheeks. "There now," he soothes, shushing you. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Just needed a firm hand to calm you down, aye?" He slides his hand between your legs again, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet folds. "Would you like me to make you feel better? Hmm?" What else can you do but nod vigorously, desperate to see what else he can do with those rough fingers of his.

Good King John, who brings you to the edge of bliss, sliding his fingers through your wetness, worrying the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. "Poor needy girl," he coos in your ear. "I'll make it all better. You'll see." And he does. Great gods above, he does. His hands work you like a piece of malleable clay, all your fury now spent, sending you to the heights of ecstasy as you wail and writhe on his lap, two of his fingers buried in your spasming cunt.

Good King John, who soon has you addicted to the things he can do with his hands and his tongue and his cock. You find yourself going out of your way to cause trouble, just so he will "punish" you again and again. The memory of his cock in your mouth makes you drool with want. The thought of his tongue slithering up your pulsing channel makes your thighs clench as you soak through your small clothes. Whether he's binding you to the bed to edge you until you're a dripping, crying mess or slapping your greedy quim for coming without permission, even when he's pounding into you from behind to "teach ya a lesson, Princess," you're more than willing to submit to his whims.

Good King John, who has no illusions about you, despite your eager participation in bed. Given the chance, he knows you'll still bolt like a scared rabbit at the first opportunity. Then the captain speaks the dreaded words. "We're coming into port, my lord." Though wary, John can see how excited you are at the prospect of being back on land again, so agrees to take you into the port city for a short walk, so long as you dress in your stableboy clothing to draw less attention.

Good King John, who warns you not to attempt an escape. "This is not your father's kingdom, Princess. There are pirates and cutthroats who wouldn't hesitate to have their way with you before slitting your throat. Do not leave my side, understood?" You eagerly agree, thinking he's simply trying to scare you. You're certain once you mention who your father is, these so-called pirates and cutthroats will be tripping over themselves to escort you home, especially when you tell them of the reward your father will pay out for your safe return.

Good King John, who allows you to lead him into a bazaar. You marvel at all the strange sights, all the exotic languages and unfamiliar smells. In truth, you lose yourself in the experience for a bit, catching yourself enjoying John's company. He is so well-traveled and knowledgeable, telling you about all the different places he has been, all the wonders he has seen. "Once we're wed, I'll set aside some time for us to travel. Would you like that?" he asks, and your current situation is once more at the fore of your mind. You can't fall weak to his charms. You must escape. He is your enemy, the man who conquered your father's kingdom and took you from your home.

Good King John, who pays no attention when you tug him into a busier section of the bazaar. There are throngs of people milling about, vendors hawking their wares, their loud cries and the bustling crowd serving as a distraction. Before he realizes what's happening, you let go of his hand and duck between two stalls, making a mad dash down a narrow alleyway. Your only thought is to evade and escape, knowing John and his men will be hot on your heels. Your path is winding and mindless, leading you further into the labyrinth of the city until you find yourself standing outside of a dingy looking tavern. Surely you can find someone inside who will be willing to help a poor damsel in distress.

Good King John, who is frantic with worry. He wasn't lying about the unsavory nature of this particular port city. Pirates and cutthroats do indeed frequent this port and would not hesitate to harm you or worse. Telling his men to fan out and find you, he takes his trusted knight Sir Kyle with him, questioning anyone who is willing to stop and listen. It's an old fishmonger who finally points him in your direction, saying a lad fitting your description nearly bowled him over.

Good King John, who slows in front of the same tavern you yourself found mere minutes before and sends Kyle in to search for you. No sooner does his knight enter the tavern when a startled cry sounds from an alleyway before being cut off. John feels his heart shoot straight up into his throat when he peers down the dark passage to see two men wrestling to subdue you. One of them snatches the cap from your head, your hair spilling out before the other one strikes you across the face. John sees red, bellowing like an enraged bull as he charges down the alley with sword unsheathed.

Good King John, who meets the blackguards head-on, his rage knowing no bounds as he hacks and stabs and slashes at the men who would dare to put their hands on you. By the time Sir Kyle finds him, John has hacked the men to death, blood flying from the tip of his sword as he draws back to strike again. "My lord!" he shouts, rushing to his king's side. "My lord, they are done for. Stop!"

Good King John, who is still seething with rage, turning a murderous eye on his own man. "My lord, 'tis I, Sir Kyle! Please, sire, we must be away. Grab the Princess and let us make haste back to the ship before you are discovered!" At the mention of his princess, John's fury evaporates as he turns his worried gaze to you. The devil who struck you has knocked you unconscious, your limp form collapsed against the wall. "My love," he whispers, gathering you into his arms before motioning for Kyle to lead the way back to the ship.

Good King John, who is beside himself with guilt and worry. He stares down at your still form, cursing himself for not keeping a closer eye on you. He knew the risks but was lulled by your sweet smiles and girlish charms, despite knowing your penchant for trickery. Now look what his failure has wrought. His beloved princess lying still as death in his bed. Even the ship's doctor cannot give him answers. "She seems hale and hearty, save for the goose egg on the back of her skull. I cannot say with any certainty when she will awaken, sire, or... even if she will awaken. I'm sorry, my lord. There is nothing more I can do."

Good King John, who sits by your bedside all through the night, rubbing warmth into your chilled fingers and stroking your brow. "Come back to me, my love, and I swear I'll return you to your home. I will leave you in peace and never plague you again if you will just open your eyes." Yet his pleas go unanswered, his bitter tears dampening the soft skin of your hand.

Good King John, who awakens to the feel of your fingers carding softly through his hair. Sitting bolt upright, he stares into your eyes, now open and alert. You frown, the prettiest pout he's ever seen on your lovely face. "My head hurts, John, and I've a powerful thirst. Is there wine in the carafe?"

Good King John, who calls the ship's doctor to his chambers to give you a thorough check-up. He pokes and prods, then calls you well and gives you a remedy for your pounding head and strict instructions to remain abed until the dizziness wears off. You lie in wait for John's return, certain you're due for a proper scolding, disappointed that it won't be one of his 'punishments' you receive, instead. However, John doesn't return. Servants do, with food and drink in hand. Hot water and soap are delivered as well, along with a lovely dressing gown and slippers. You sit on the edge of the bed and bathe, one eye on the door, expecting John to "surprise" you again, but still, he does not appear. You eventually fall asleep, head still turned towards the door in expectation.

Good King John, who honors his promise to you, even if you weren't awake to hear it at the time. His guilt knows no bounds, so he determines to deliver you safely back to your father. He tells the captain to turn the boat back towards the shores of your father's kingdom with a heavy heart. He knows he will surely pine for you the rest of his days, knowing no other woman will do now, that only you will ever hold his heart. He resigns himself to a lifetime of loneliness.

Good King John, who requests regular reports on your health and well-being, receives a request from you, delivered by the ship's doctor. "The Princess requests your presence in her chambers, sire. She's in a right fit of temper, if I do say so myself, my lord. She chucked a book at me for not answering her questions to her satisfaction." John can't help the wry smile on his face. His feisty princess doesn't put up with any guff. She's a warrior through and through, his lion-hearted minx.

Good King John, who enters his old quarters to find you pacing the worn floorboards. "Where have you been?" you demand, bottom lip jutting out as you cross your arms. "Is ignoring me my punishment for running away? If it is, it's not working. I don't care if I ever see you again!" A sad expression dims his ocean-blue eyes, but his smile is as kind and indulging as ever. "I understand your ire, my lo— ah, Princess, but fret no more. You will soon be relieved of the burden of my presence. We arrive at your kingdom on the morrow. I'm sure your father will be overjoyed to have you home again."

Good King John, who bids you a strained farewell and quickly removes himself from your cabin, leaving you to blink in shocked silence after him. He's returning you to your father? You slump on the bed, unable to process his sudden change of heart. Had your escape angered him enough that he's finally decided to wash his hands of you? Even at your worst, John withstood your tantrums and waspish words. He'd always been so kind and attentive and... loving. As realization sets in, a sadness like you've never known before settles in your breast.

Good King John, who sends his man Sir Kyle to collect you when the ship docks the next day. "Where's John?" you ask, as the knight hands you up into a waiting royal carriage. Sir Kyle avoids your sharp gaze, his mouth set in a grim line. "The king has gone ahead to meet with your father, my lady. I doubt you will see him again." Your heart constricts in your breast as the door slams shut and the carriage lurches into movement.

Good King John, who is in the throne room with your father when you arrive. The knights who guard the door deny you access, their pikes crossed to block your way. Oh, you throw a right strop until your ladies-in-waiting come to collect you, leading you down the corridor as you shriek like a harpy at the top of your lungs. They lock you in your chambers, leaving you to batter at the door with your fists until your strength is exhausted.

Good King John, who returns to his own kingdom a broken man. He spends his days staring out the windows and rubbing at the ache in his chest that has plagued him since he saw you last. He doesn't shirk his responsibilities, managing his kingdom and holdings with a firm and fair hand, but his heart is no longer in it. It has been cleaved in two and he fears it will never mend.

Good King John, who glowers down at a missive sent by your father, the conquered king. As he reads it over, a dozen carts laden with chests of gold and precious gems are delivered as well. His heart seizes in his chest as he reads the message your father has sent.

'May this find you well, Good King John. It shames me to say that since your departure, my castle has not known peace. You have surely bewitched my daughter, for nothing will soothe her anger except the promise of being reunited with you. I beg your mercy, good king. Please accept my daughter's dowry and know I fully endorse your marriage, if you are still inclined to take her as your bride. I wish you all the luck, good king, for you will surely need it.'

Good King John, who reads the missive several more times before a royal carriage with your father's crest comes clattering into the courtyard. He stares on in awe as a shrill voice erupts from the depths of the carriage. "Get this bloody door open! I want to see my husband! NOW!"

Good King John, whose smile could light up the night sky as he watches you step out of the carriage, sharp eyes searching the crowd until you spy him standing on the steps with his guards. Without a care for decorum, you snatch up your skirts and run to him, kitten heels pounding up the steps until you're standing before him, panting for breath, hair coming loose from its pins. Your eyes blaze with ire but are now tempered with an emotion much softer. "You're a fool if you think you're getting rid of me that easily, my husband."

Good King John, who roars with laughter as he catches you up in his arms and hugs you tightly to his chest. His heart is fit to burst when you cup his whiskered face in your hands and whisper, "Don't you ever leave me again, John."

Good King John, who kisses you soundly on the lips before whispering back, "Never again, my love. Never again."

-

Dark Knight! Ghost drabble (prequel)

#captain john price #john price x reader #Good King!John Price #medieval au #john price cod

[jokingmisfit]

Tv Princess

Gabriel x reader, Platonic Dean x reader, Platonic Sam x reader

Prompt- “Give me five minutes to get over myself.”

Warnings- Forced (Fake) Marriage, Forced Kiss(?), Reality Warping

Idk man if you find something for me to warn for let me know, I’m really bad at warnings.

TV show after TV show. Sam, Dean, and I “acted” out the scenes. It was Sam’s idea to play along but at this point I was getting tired.

Dean delivers another cheesy line, and the world shifts, or rather glitches, around us. This time it seemed a bit too different. Where is Sam and Dean?

I walked a bit through the room. I noticed my shirt and pants are now a dress. My outfit fits the room's aesthetic. Or perhaps, maybe it’s more of the era?

Red and gold accents around a room that’s lit only by the many windows. It looks like one of those crappy dramas based around old day royalty.

I see a mirror and decide that if I am going to be here alone I might as well make sure I still look good. Ribbons in now tangled hair and white fabric create a perfect dress. Though, I thought white wasn’t a common color. That is when it hit me.

I’m in a wedding dress.

A knock on the door pulls me from staring at myself. I look over to see a girl dressed a lot like a maid.

“Princess, it’s time.”

My heart stops for just a second. This lady really just called me princess. Dear God, help me…

“Yes. Yes, of course. Just give me five minutes to get over myself.”

The girl stepped into the room more. She looked terrified. I felt kinda bad for her. “Princess, I know it isn’t my place, but I know you are scared of your marriage, but we don’t have time... It’s a bad idea to keep the Prince waiting.” 

This is going to happen anyways right? If I play along and get it over with it’ll be over. “You know what, you are absolutely right... Let’s go.”

She nodded enthusiastically and we made our way out of the room. We were greeted in front of two large doors by a man in an old timely suit. He didn’t make eye contact or say anything, he just held out his arm for me.

After taking his arm the guards opened the doors. I heard music starting to play as I stared down the aisle. The man all the way at the end of the way was none other than the damned trickster who did this to us. I hid my anger with a deep breath. I observed the room and people in it as we made our way to him. 

When we finally made it to the end the man who greeted me gave the trickster my hand and we all moved to a more appropriate spot. The trickster sends a smile to me. I just glare back.

He leans towards me. His smile is now leaning towards a smirk.

“You know it really is best to play along.”

I really want to punch him in the nose at this point. This better end soon. It was funnier when Sam and Dean were being hit in the “family jewels”.

~~Time Skip~~

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me actually do this!

The trickster grabbed my hand and pulled me in. Our lips met and I wanted to die. It was different. I imagined it to feel gross or weird, but it was soft and sweet. I could feel him smile into the kiss. This is. This. It. made me feel sick. I liked it and hated it at the same time.

He finally pulled away. I had no idea what to do or say next.

“You alright, Princess? We gotta a whole ball to attend after this…” He trailed off, then wiggled his eyebrows like a weirdo. “I mean, unless you wanna go straight to the honeymoon?”

I gave a tight smile, biting my lip. “Sorry prince charming, but I don’t roll like that. Thanks for the disturbing offer.”

He laughed… Did he actually find that funny? The trickster took my hand and led me down the aisle and to a much bigger clearing.

“Then perhaps we should just dance.” It was hard to ignore the actual charm he had. I let out a small sigh as he pulled me into a waltz.

You know. Now that I think about it…“What’s your name?”

He stopped for a second. He seemed genuinely confused, before he covered it with a chuckle. 

“I’d rather not give information to someone who wants me dead.” He said smiling with a playful tone and stare.

I retorted quickly, “I’d love to say you telling me your name would help us knock you on your ass, but it won’t… Honestly, I’m just tired of calling you “he” and “the trickster” in my head.”

I looked up into his eyes for the first time since he pulled me in. His eyes showed adoration and enjoyment. Why does he look like that? I must look so stupid staring up all wide eyed. Among that he’s using us like a puppeteer, of course he’s entertained… But, why does he look so loving?

The trickster pulled me in a bit tighter. He looked a little concerned as he did, but he leaned into me like he was using me for comfort.

“Gabriel… You can call me Gabriel.”

#spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #gabriel #spn gabriel #archangel gabriel #supernatural gabriel #gabriel x reader #spn gabriel x reader #supernatural gabriel x reader #archangel gabriel x reader

[thebadgerclan]

The Feast of Sankt Nikolai

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You celebrate the Feast of Sankt Nikolai

A/N: Idk when I decided that Nikolai is a MASSIVE simp for his wife, but tell me it doesn’t fit 😂

Crown and dress references at the end

There was always a ball for the Feast of Sankt Nikolai.  It wasn’t only Ravka’s biggest holiday, it was also the King’s Saints’ Day, which could not go uncelebrated.  Your husband had shifted the focus of the party to the holiday rather than himself, loving the festive season as much as his people. If not more.  The kitchen staff had been working all week to prepare the feast, the servants had been up since dawn cleaning and decorating the ballroom, and you’d been ushered into a bath at 3 bells to prepare.

Aside from the party Nikolai threw every year for your birthday, this was the biggest ball of the year, with the entire court and their families in attendance.  After you’d bathed, your maids had draped you in a woolen robe and sat you down to work on your hair and makeup.  You envied Nikolai in this regard: he didn’t have to spend hours preening before a ball, he could wake up ten minutes before it started, throw on a suit, and be done.

When you were done, you were dressed in a gown of red velvet with an off-the-shoulder neckline, the cuffs of the long sleeves, hem, and neckline trimmed in white fur.  It had been fashioned after the version of Sankt Nikolai that visited children’s homes in the night and delivered presents, something you’d always found charming.  Your hair was curled and pinned into an updo, diamond snowflakes pinned throughout, a tiara of glittering snowflakes nestled atop your head.  Such was the theme of your other jewels for the evening: snowflake earrings and a diamond snowflake pendant around your neck, your engagement and wedding rings on your finger.

Nikolai entered the bedroom, dressed in his military dress uniform, and stopped dead in his tracks.  Your maids curtsied and excused themselves, leaving you with your husband.  “My love,” he whispered, stepping forward and taking your hands in his.  “You are absolutely radiant.  I… Saints, I could look at you all day.”  You felt your face warm, and Nikolai kissed you sweetly.  “But there’s no time for that.  Not if we want to make the party.”

Your husband took your arm and led you down to the ballroom, nearly falling down the stairs with how frequently he turned to look at you.  You were announced and you entered, taking in the beauty of the ballroom.  Tinsel and garland was strung from the ceiling and candles lit the entire room.  Wreaths of evergreen graced every table, and the feast was already laid out.  Brown sugar glazed ham, scalloped potatoes, roasted green beans, freshly baked rolls, wine, champagne, ale, and beer graced the table, and Nikolai forwent a formal speech in favor of simply declaring “Enjoy yourselves!”

Court business had been banned from this ball, and everyone was glad for the break.  Laughter flowed as freely as the wine, and you found yourself laughing at the Duchess of Caryeva’s story in a very un-queen like manner.  Your husband had his arm slung around your shoulder, keeping you close to him as you conversed with members of your court.  When the feast was cleared away, Nikolai reached beneath the table and handed you a wrapped parcel.

“Kolya,” you said, taking the gift from his hands.  “Now Y/N, darling, I don’t want to hear ‘You didn’t have to get me anything’, because we both know I make it my duty to spoil my bride absolutely rotten.  This is just a taste of what I have for you tomorrow morning.”  You shook your head, but you were smiling as you tore the paper, revealing a rare, first edition of your favorite novel.  “Oh, Nikolai,” you said, and the King leaned in close.

“So, did I do good?”  “Yes!” you cried, throwing your arms around him.  “I love it, thank you!”  Nikolai kissed you deeply, not caring that his entire court was watching, pulling you even closer to him.  “Of course, my dear.  Now,” he said, reluctantly pulling away and standing.  “If my queen would be amenable, I should like to ask for her hand in a dance.”  A servant took your book, promising to deliver it directly to your rooms, and you stood, taking Nikolai’s hand.

The King led you to the floor, bowing before you as you curtsied, before taking your hands.  The musicians struck up a waltz and you spun around the room, a smile on your face the entire time.  Nikolai leaned forward to kiss you every so often, which made you giggle, and when the dance ended, your husband brought you to the side of the room and refreshed your drinks.

The rest of the evening was spent dancing, drinking, laughing, and overall shirking the responsibilities of the crowns you wore.  The servants brought out desserts: cookies, cakes, candies imported from Kerch, and the party lasted for several hours.  In fact, most of the court was still drinking and dancing at 2 bells.  But soon after that, people began leaving, and the musicians began playing a slow song.  Nikolai pulled you into his arms, swaying back and forth slowly.

“Happy Saints’ Day, Kolya,” you whispered, and he laughed softly.  “I’d nearly forgotten that was today.”  “Did you?  That’s half of the reason we had this ball.”  “Hmm,” was all Nikolai said, tightening his arms around you, kissing your forehead.  In truth, he’d spent the entire evening watching you.  Watching you laugh, watching you smile, watching you dance with various members of the court.

You were dazzling, you were graceful, you were bold, everything a queen should be.  And you were his.  With all the choices you’d had in a husband, you’d picked Nikolai, and was grateful for that every day.  Nikolai had never believed in true love, but then he’d met you, and every expectation he had about true love went out the window.  Never in his life had Nikolai known such joy, such passion, such devotion.  And he was so devoted to you; the King knew how many admirers he had within his court, how many ladies prayed for the day he took a mistress, but they would be sorely disappointed.  There was no woman as beautiful as you, as regal as you, as perfect as you.

“Where’d you go?” you asked, drawing Nikolai out of his revere.  “What, darling?”  “You had that look on your face.”  “What look?”  You smiled, cupping his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.  “That look you get when you’re so stupidly in love with me that you start smiling like a drunkard.”  The King indeed had a dopey smile on his face, and he tipped your chin up to kiss you.  “It’s because I am so stupidly in love with you that I can seldom think of anything else.”

He kissed you deeper, and you squealed as he dipped you towards the floor.  “Nikolai!”  “Hush, woman, let me kiss my wife.”  Your squeals turned to laughter as your husband kissed your neck, then your collarbones, before standing you upright.  “Perhaps if you want to kiss your wife, you’ll take her upstairs.”  A devilish look crossed his face, and Nikolai tucked an arm under your legs and lifted you into his arms.  “Perhaps I’ll do just that.”

#nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone season 2

[hihimissamericanbi]

Enemies to lovers AND only one bed? Babe, you're speaking my favorite language here. Tell me more.

well hello there, snitchy snitch!!

Okay, picture this. Sapphic enemies to lovers. Wedding trope. Our MCs are the sister of the groom and sister of the bride. They have disliked each other from the moment they met, back when their siblings first started dating. One is "Miss Priss," the other is "Surly Girlie." Our story takes place at the bachelorette party, a weekend away at the beach. Both our MCs arrive late (so they are grumpy AF already) to find they have to share the only room left. and there's only one bed.

NOW. IS THIS NOT THE PERFECT PANSMIONE. Harry and Draco are getting married. Hermione and Pansy never mended things after the war; they still despise (read: are obsessed with) one another. Now, they've had to work together (ew) to plan this stupid joint bachelor trip for the whole crew. To top it all off, Pansy's portkey got cancelled last minute, and Hermione got caught up in a work emergency at the ministry (at least what I was doing was important, parkinson; sorry if I don't feel bad your fancy first-class portkey got bumped). They spend the first night in their shared bedroom bitching each other out and sleeping as far away from each other as they can get, rolled over to each side and huffing in exasperation.

Honestly this works great for any HP ship pairing. Jily having to work together to plan Wolfstar's bachelor trip. Wolfstar exes-to-lovers planning Jily or Jegulus' trip. Drarry planning Ginsy's. You get the idea.

Below the cut for more stream-of-consciousness fic, incl NSFW art from @upthehillart :D

@hpsaffics you're getting a tag here too :)))

After much description of hot girls in bathing suits (hermione's ass) (pansy's legs) and both of them just absolutely losing their minds over each others' bodies, with lots of sniping back and forth to cover up how embarrassingly into each other they are, they end up last ones at the muggle bar the second night, too tipsy to try apparating. Fuck it, granger, dance with me. Oh boy, do they DANCE. It's so fucking hot, they can't get enough of each other, the feel of their bodies close, their flesh beneath each others' hands, that LOOK in pansy's eyes that says I'm going to eat you alive and you're going to say thank you. But just before something drastic happens, like hermione putting her lips to pansy's neck like she's been wanting to for honestly a very long time, longer than she cares to admit, Harry bursts onto the dancefloor "there you are!!! we've been looking everywhere for you get in the uber right now!"

The spell is broken, and, faces beet red, they let harry drag them back to the air bnb. they take turns showering, being sure to change into pj's in the bathroom (Pansy in a giant band tee shirt and booty shorts, Hermione in a lace pink matching set). Hermione is tying her hair up in a specially-charmed silk scarf and going over some notes from work that got delivered by owl while they were out, and pansy thinks she's the loveliest thing she's ever seen. Pansy's caught staring. "what?" "nothing, granger." there's a pause, like maybe they each want to say more, but instead, pansy just turns out her light with her wand. "night, granger," she whispers.

There in the dark, they both lay on their backs, listening to each other breathe. they end up having a tension-filled, intense exchange where they are truly vulnerable with each other for the first time. apologies are given and accepted in the softest whispers. tentatively, pansy reaches out a hand beneath the covers, drags the back of her fingers gently over the soft skin of hermione's arm. "i really am. sorry. i never meant any of it. you." deep breath. "you're the most incredible girl I've ever met. I've always thought so."

and then--

Hermione moves with that intense decisiveness of hers. She rolls over, straddles pansy, grips her face and kisses her long and deep. Pansy opens her mouth to her instantly, and a stupid little moan escapes and it's the most pathetic sound she's ever made but she will make it again and again if it's hermione who pulls it from her. "Want you," Hermione whispers into pansy's neck, finally latching on and sucking, biting, coaxing blooming bruises of violet and and blue to her pale skin. She shoves her hands up underneath pansy's tee shirt, not an ounce of hesitation, grips her tits hard. kneads them, dances fingers over her nipples, seeing which touches elicit the most gasps from the beauty beneath her. pansy is arching and writhing with pleasure, and hermione grins into her mouth, wicked and brutal. The witch who kept a woman in a jar for months for slandering her friends, the witch who destroyed horcruxes and single-handedly kept two boys alive for the better part of seven years, the 20-something witch ruthlessly bulldozing over all the old white bureaucratic wizards at the ministry, is now the witch taking pansy apart inch by inch and fuck if pansy isn't thrilled to be broken by those powerful hands, sucked dry by plush lips, devoured by sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as they sink into her skin over and over.

But Pansy has a few tricks up her own sleeve. She grips hermione with strong thighs and rolls them over, "Can I take off your scarf?" she breathes it her ear. "wanna pull your hair while i suck on your tits." Hermione whimpers and pulls her scarf off and pansy gathers those fucking curls into her fist and pulls, careful of course not to damage the curl pattern. Pansy licks a long stripe up her now-bared neck and over her ear, then whispers, "pull your top down. let me see." Hermione obeys, of course she obeys, pansy is commanding and relentless and if pansy wants to look hermione will let her. she fingers a strap of her camisole down off one shoulder, skims her fingertips over the top of her breast, just over the nipple still hidden beneath the fabric. Pansy's mouth is dry and her cunt throbs as she anticipates finally getting a glimpse of her nipple, already hard and poking through the silk and lace. "all the way," pansy murmurs. "take it out. show it to me." hermione whines and squirms and finally digs her hand all the way in and pulls out her breast, so fucking full and delicious with large brown nipples that beg to be kissed, so of course pansy does. Pansy looses her patience and pulls the camisole all the way down, exposing both breasts to her gaze and her wandering hands. she dives in, laving attention all across hermione's warm skin, nipping and licking and sucking and groping. her hips have started grinding down against hermione's pelvis, and hermione is arching up to meet her. "wanna make you come," pansy growls between hermione's tits. "how do you like it?" hermione stills, and pansy looks up. "um," hermione bites her lip. pansy kisses it out from behind her teeth. "yes, baby? what do you want? let me give it to you." Hermione take a deep breath. "i thought i was going to have my own room. i may have brought a few... toys." "oh, like what?" Hermione rolls over, digs around her her bag by the bed, and shyly pulls out an ENTIRE FUCKING STRAP. The magic kind that connects sensations from the strap to the wearer's clit. "I was hoping i might get lucky, going out and everything this weekend." Pansy's speechless. "Would you, um, let me fuck you with it?" hermione asks, big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Cut to, pansy on all fours, legs kicked wide, ass up, facing the mirror by the bed, watching hermione completely naked and fucking her with her cock, her curves bouncing and slapping with every thrust, the sounds wet and loud and crude, mixing with Pansy's gasps over and over and over. Pansy's tee is shoved up by hermione's demanding hand; she's gripping the skin of her shoulder, her other fist burying in Pansy's hip and pulling her back onto her dick even as she fucks into her, hard and deep and fast. Hermione is strong and her grip bruises and Pansy couldn't move if she wanted to. "M close," Hermione murmurs. "yes, yes, yes," pansy chants in reply, all other words fucked right out of her brain. "touch yourself for me, baby, wanna watch you come first." but when pansy collapses down to one shoulder so she can use her other hand to rub her clit, she gasps in shock. Hermione has wordlessly and wandlessly charmed her fingers to vibrate. pansy shouts when her charmed fingers makes contact with her aching clit, swollen and needy from what feels like a lifetime of getting handled by hermione fucking granger. just a few passes through her folds and over her clit has Pansy shaking and coming with a muffled scream, Hermione following right behind her, the force of her orgasm plunging her cock even harder into pansy's pulsing cunt. it kicks off a second orgasm for pansy, back to back, and she screams and screams until hermione finally pulls out and gather pansy into her arms, shushing her and smoothing her hair.

They clean each other up take turns in the bathroom, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

maybe this wedding won't be so bad after all.

ps: below is my headcanon depiction of pansmione from a fic i cannot recommend enough . Art and fic both by @upthehillart

watch out the girls are naked and hot

#ANDDD SCENE #wip tag game #smut game #celine's smut #celine spills #desperately seeking snitch #pansmione #pansmione smut #hp sapphics #enemies to lovers #and there was only one bed #hermione x pansy #upthehill art

[petitelepus]

FOX'S WEDDING, PART 7

KITSUNE!RENGUKO KYOJURO X FEM!READER

Summary: You and Kyojuro start working out for real and you are dying. Luckily, the rewards are damn good and worth it.

Warnings: Kissing

A/N: Female Reader, Kitsune Kyojuro, Kitsune Senjuro, Kitsune Rengoku, Monster Musume!AU

PART 1 II PART 2 II PART 3 II PART 4 II PART 5 II PART 6 II PART 7 II PART 8 II PART 9 II PART 10 II PART 11 II PART 12 II PART 13 II PART 14 II PART 15 II PART 16 II PART 17 II PART 18 II PART 19

Days went by and you or Kyojuro neither mentioned the fact that you had kissed him after going out on a date to a local zoo that was run by demihumans. The next morning when you woke up, you realized just that you had kissed your fiance for the first time and due to your embarrassment, you didn't mention it…

The problem was that Kyojuro didn't bring it up either, thinking that you needed time to figure out your feelings… Which you did, but he didn't need to be that consideration, dammit!

So the two of you circled around each other while maintaining healthy ways of living.

Senjuro, Kyojuro's little brother was honestly a blessing from God. The young fox would happily help you around the house, and no matter what needed to be done, he was helpful and willing to assist you the best way he could.

He would wake up with you or sometimes even earlier so he could help you prepare breakfast for you two and Kyojruo who ate like a horse. He would also help you with laundry, and then around the rest of the house, such as dusting the furniture or vacuuming and washing floors.

One day, about a week after your kiss with Kyojuro, you got a visitor. Someone had rung the doorbell and while you and Senjuro had your hand full, Kyojuro went to open it.

"Mister Smith!" The older Kitsune smiled at the sight of the human male, "Please, do come in! I'll ask my beloved bride to prepare us some tea!"

"Tea sounds great," The man in a dark suit nodded as he walked into the building and after taking his shoes off, he and Kyojuro walked to the living room where you and Senjuro were folding clean and dry laundry.

"Mister Smith!" You blinked as you put the shirt on your hands down and went to greet the man, "It's nice to see you! Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Tea would be great." The man said and you nodded as you turned and went to put the electric kettle on and while it heated the water, you set the cups and took out your green tea.

"Kyojuro and Senjuro, would you like some tea also?" You asked over your shoulder as you put the cups down and Senjuro's head popped into view from behind the couch.

"Yes please, big sis!" The younger fox called and you glanced at Kyojuro who smiled and nodded, "Yes, please, my Hime!"

"Alright, thank you, four cups of tea coming!" You nodded before looking at the men, Kyojuro and Smith standing by the doorway, "Please take a seat and I'll prepare tea."

"As my beloved bride wants!" Kyojuro smiled and Mister Smith nodded as they took a seat, Senjuro soon joining them. Soon, the kettle was done and the water was boiling so you poured some hot water into cups where the green tea bags were. Once you were done with that, you sat on the table opposite Mister Smith.

"So…? What brings you here, Mister Smith?" You asked but you were smiling, already knowing the reason behind his visit. The man smiled as he reached for inside his jacket and pulled out red and yellow wallets.

"I'm here to deliver the royal Kitsunes' own debit cards!" The human male said as he handed Kyojuro the red wallet and the yellow one to Senjuro. The brothers blinked as they opened the wallets and saw small bundles of money and their very own bank cards.

"Wait, does this mean we can buy stuff now?" Senjuro asked as he glanced at Mister Smith who smiled as he sipped his tea and nodded, "Yes, young lord Senjuro. Lord Kyojuro's bride," He looked at you, "Requested that the two of you would get your own debit cards so you could buy things you want without her always being there."

"How thoughtful of my Hime!" Kyojuro exclaimed as he looked at you and smiled, "You are so kind!"

You blushed and tried to hide it by sipping your own tea, but you burned your tongue the second you sipped the drink. How Smith didn't burn his tongue, you didn't know.

"I just want you guys to be able to buy food you want or something else in case I can't be there with you." You explained and the fox brothers nodded, understanding your reasoning.

Mister Smith smiled as he pulled two cards from his pocket and slid them to the brothers, "So, here are the PIN codes you need to remember if you want to buy anything. Do not show or tell them to anyone else but yourselves in case someone would steal them."

"Understood!" Kyojuro nodded happily and Senjuro nodded also, copying his brother. Mister Smith nodded, pleased that the brothers accepted the new change happily, "Then, I wanted to come and ask about your relationship. You have been living together for almost 2 months already. How are you all getting along?"

"Oh, everything is perfect! Senjuro helps me around the house when Kyojuro goes out for his daily jogs, we went on a date a week ago to the new Zoo, and then we-!" You cut yourself off, remembering that kiss. You blushed and tried your tea which was much cooler already, but still hot.

Senjuro looked confused why you had turned quiet all of a sudden, while Kyojuro smiled as he held his tongue. Mister Smith nodded, seemingly satisfied with your reply and you were thankful that he didn't try to pry any further.

"I'm happy to see that all three of you can live in harmony. Many would fail when suddenly put in your shoes, but you have made it work with each other." The human male nodded as he finished his tea and got up, "Then, I will take my leave, you have my number, in any case, something happens."

"You're leaving already?" You asked, confused, but the man just smiled and nodded, "Yes, I have other families to visit and I'm already running late."

"I see. Well, thank you for your help!" You nodded and you and the brothers wished the human male a good day as he took his leave and left the house.

You were extremely pleased that Mister Smith was able to bring the brothers' debit cards. They were old enough to buy stuff without you monitoring them or their money use. You smiled as you looked at them, "Now you two can buy anything you want, like food, books, movies, or such, without having to have me there."

"But I like having you keep me company!" Kyojuro exclaimed suddenly and you blushed as you frowned a little, "I can't be always with you, Kyojuro. What if you were on your daily jog but got hungry all of a sudden? This way you can walk into the closest convenience store and buy yourself something to eat."

"I…" Kyojuro nodded slowly, "I understand your point."

"Can I…" Senjuro started carefully, "Can I buy myself books and movies I'm interested in?"

"Of course!" You nodded happily, "Just don't use a fortune!"

The three of you were all smiles as you talked about the books and movies Senjuro was interested in. Based on what you had seen Senjuro read, he favored many different genres, so maybe he liked different movies also? When you were all finished with your teas, you got up to take everyone's cups but as you reached for Kyojuro's cup you felt something in your back crack and you flinched in pain.

"Ouch…!" You groaned and the fox brothers noticed your flinch immediately.

"Is everything alright, my Hime?" Kyojuro asked and you waved your hand in a carefree manner, "Oh, just my back acting up. I should probably stretch and maybe exercise or otherwise move more."

"Why won't you join big brother for his jog?" Senjuro suddenly asked and you blinked in confusion, "But I just did a little over a week ago?"

"No, I mean, for his afternoon jog, not morning. That way the two of you can spend more time together…" Senjuro looked down and frowned a little, "The two of you have been a little… I don't know if distant is the right word, it's like something happened between you two?"

You and Kyojuro flinched. Had it been that obvious that you were feeling a little nervous around each other? The two of you glanced at each other, your eyes meeting before you looked at Senjuro again.

"I'm sorry if we worried you Senjuro." Kyojuro apologized and you nodded, "We didn't mean to. I assure you, everything is okay between me and your big brother. We aren't fighting, we aren't mad, sad, or anything like that."

"Then… What happened?"

You bit your lip nervously and before Kyojuro could tell the truth, you exclaimed, "You know what? You are right Senjuro!" You turned to look at Kyojuro with a little forced smile, "If it's okay with you, I would like to join you on your jog!"

"I would be honored!" The older Kitsune exclaimed himself and the two of you were all smiles so Senjuro wouldn't worry again. The young fox wasn't that young, but he still shouldn't be worried about what was going on between his big brother and his bride.

The next day came quickly, breakfast went by, followed by lunch, and soon enough it was time for your and Kyojuro's afternoon jog. You liked Kyojuro, you really did, but you despised exercising.

"Kyojuro?" You called your fiance's attention as the two of you were stretching before the jog you were going to take. The older Kitsune hummed as he turned to look at you and you winched already, "You know I'm in bad shape, don't you? So, how about we make a small run around the block and call it a day?"

You knew you were shamelessly trying to swindle your way out of the jog to the park and back, but you had a feeling your words had no effect on the Kitsune because that smile of his didn't go anywhere. No, it grew wider.

You knew you were shamelessly trying to swindle your way out of the jog to the park and back, but you had a feeling your words had no effect on the Kitsune because that smile of his didn't go anywhere. No, it grew wider.

"In that case, we can stop by the park to rest and I'll teach you some good basic exercise moves to strengthen your body and mind!" He shouted happily and you groaned out loud in defeat, but your whining and complaining fell to deaf fox's ears.

"Now, let's go!" Kyojuro cheered and you grumbled but despite your sour attitude, you followed after your fiance. It was clear that Kyojuro was taking it easy for you, slowing down and cheering you on, but as you thought earlier, you were in really bad shape… Yet you still made it to the park and to the familiar bench where you had talked with Kyojuro and asked him out on a date.

The two of you sat on the bench, or you more likely collapsed on it. You were panting hard as you tried to fix your irregular breathing. Kyojuro was all smiles as he handed you the familiar water bottle and you drank almost half of the bottle.

"Carefully my beloved! I don't want you to choke!" Kyojuro said happily and you lowered the bottle and glanced at the fox next to you, "I don't know how you do this every day Kyojuro!"

"I do take weekends off so my body can rest!" He nodded and you grumbled at the idea of jogging like this almost every day. The two of you rested in silence so you could catch your breath, but there were other things taking over your mind.

How you shared both of your own families' backgrounds with each other on this very bench and how you asked him out on a date… Followed by a kiss before nighttime.

Once your breathing was even, you prepared yourself mentally for this conversation. You turned to look at your fiance and carefully started, "Kyojuro…?"

"Yes, my precious Hime?" He asked as he looked at you and you tried your hardest to keep eye contact but you found your gaze wandering to your hands.

"There is… Something I want to talk about…" You said carefully and he smiled, "About what?"

"About…" You swallowed nervously, "What happened a week ago…"

"Yes?" He nodded and you felt your mouth dry, "I… Uh…"

"Hm?" He just smiled wider and you had enough.

"Ah, never mind, forget it." You shook your head, trying to shake off that blush that burned your cheeks so viciously. Instead, you asked, "What's next, boss?"

"Now, we start with some simple exercises!" He said as he happily jumped up on his feet and you whined, "Nooo…!"

"Yes!" Kyojuro smiled, "Now get up and I'll show you the right stretching and then we can start!"

"You're a demon…!" You groaned and the damn fox had the guts to laugh at you, "A Yokai actually! Now, up!"

You did as your fiance told you to and he showed you how to stretch and you followed his example. Then came the fun part. The real exercises, as you liked to call them.

The push-ups and lunges that he made you do and the blank he made you hold…!

It was brutal to poor little you who barely moved or rather exercised besides the housework and visiting the grocery store, and now that you had Senjuro helping you with housework and Kyojuro carrying your heavy grocery bags, you moved even less.

Now, finally, he had you on your back on grassy ground with your feet pinned to the same ground.

"Kyojuro…! I can't…!" You whined but he didn't take a no for an answer. No, he smiled and he held your legs, "You can do it! Just a couple of sit-ups and we are done and can go buy something to drink!"

"No…!" You whimpered, "I can't…!"

"Do this and I'll give you a reward!"

"No reward is worth this!" You cried out in a mixture of pain and frustration. Your body was hurting from being pushed to the limit and you were frustrated because you wanted to match Kyojuro's expectations.

"I can't…"

"Just try one time! If you don't like it, you can stop!"

"I already know I won't like it!"

"You never know unless you try!" Kyojuro was still smiling and believing in you, even if you were acting like a petty brat. You both hated and loved it.

You shut your eyes as you growled, giving in and using all the strength your abdominal muscles possessed and you somehow managed to lift your upper body up and against your bent knees. That's when you felt something touch the top of your head. As you went back down you opened your eyes, confused.

"What-?" You blinked and Kyojuro smiled, no, he absolutely beamed in joy, "You did it! Can you do it again?"

"I-!"

"I know you can do it!"

How the Hell could you not try when he was being your biggest cheerleader at the moment? You groaned as you closed your eyes and forced yourself up again and-!

It happened again! Something touched you but your forehead this time! You opened your eyes as you went back down and you saw Kyojuro smiling down at you.

You blinked, confused, "Did you just…?"

"What?" He seemed genuinely clueless. Maybe you just imagined it, "Ah, nothing…"

"You're doing so well! Do you think you can do one more?" He asked and you groaned as you put the hands behind your head and pushed-!

You opened your eyes as you felt something press against your lips and you saw Kyojuro, kissing you. You felt your eyes widen in shock and your muscles ache and give up, making you fall back on the ground. You were staring at the Kitsune and he chuckled as he grinned, "How did you like your rewards?"

Wait, those were your rewards? You were sweaty and gross and he still kissed you willingly? He… Wanted to kiss you?

"Do you want to do a couple more sit-ups or are we done here?" Kyojuro asked and you stared at him for a second before blushing.

"It depends…" You mumbled in embarrassment, averting your gaze because you couldn't stand to look him in the eyes, "Does it mean that I won't get any rewards in the future if I won't do more sit-ups…?"

"I promise you, I won't stop no matter what! Not anymore!" He said happily and you were feeling both so happy and embarrassed because of how open he was about his feelings… But you didn't hate it.

"Then, can you help me up? I don't think I can move anymore." You groaned weakly and Kyojuro nodded as he got up on his feet and offered his hand to you. You accepted his help, and he yanked you up with one single pull. You were reminded at that moment just how freakishly strong the Kitsune really was.

"Would you like us to go and buy you something to drink? I'm afraid my water bottle is empty!" The fox asked and you nodded. Your throat felt absolutely parched and you could use something to drink.

As the two of you prepared to leave the park, you found yourself suddenly craving something more than just water, soda or any health drink there was. You slowed down and Kyojuro stopped when he felt your hand pull the back of his red tracksuit.

"What is it, my Hime?"

"About my rewards…" You mumbled quietly, not quite daring to look him in the eyes, "You said you wouldn't hold back anymore…?"

"Yes!" He nodded, smiling proudly.

"Then… Can I have one proper one now?" You asked as you glanced at him bashfully and his smile grew if that was even possible, "Whatever my precious bride needs!"

You felt like your heart could have burst out of your chest as Kyojuro gently placed his palm on the back of your neck and looked at you deep into your eyes. As he leaned in, you closed your eyes, suddenly feeling too vulnerable or self-conscious under his gorgeous eyes.

Finally, his lips touched yours and you couldn't help but smile. He kissed you because he liked- No, because he loved you and wanted this just as much as you did.

Why had you stopped kissing him after your first kiss in front of his room? Because you regretted it? No, you were embarrassed by yourself but now you were sure you had no reason to feel that way anymore.

He had called you with many names and all of them were endearing, some even overly sweet. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before and you loved it.

As you two pulled apart, you opened your eyes and grinned. "So, all I need to do from this moment forward is to ask and you will kiss me?"

"Yes!" Kyojuro nodded enthusiastically, "Only if you want me to!"

"In that case…" You smiled a little, "You can always ask for a kiss too. If you want one, I mean?"

"Then can I have one right away?" He asked and you nodded, but just as you were about to kiss-!

"WO HOO!"

"GET A ROOM!"

The two of you jumped apart and you turned to look and saw some random guys laughing at the two of you. You grounded your teeth together, wanting to throw a stone at them or shout at them at least, but you didn't want to look bad in front of your fiance.

After all, the two of you had been so into each other that you had forgotten that you were in a public place, in the middle of the park on a sunny day… Where anyone could see you two kissing each other.

You and Kyojuro glanced at each other and you smiled, "So, that drink? Are you offering?"

"I do have a money card now so I can buy you things you might want or need!" He said happily and you smiled, "Lead the way."

#rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku senjuro #monster musume!au #monster musume #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #reader #reader insert #kitsune #nine tailed fox #writing #my writing #story #my story #kissing #ENJOY!

[gingerteaonthetardis]

autumnal writing prompt:

fallen leaves but it has to take place inside the TARDIS. any doctor + companion and/or pairing

hiiiii thank you for your prompt and for your patience <3 tbh, i loved this concept and i spent a fair bit of time on the execution, trying to get the vibe close to what i was seeing in my head. not sure if i succeeded. but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

i went with the tenth doctor for this one, set post-runaway bride, reflecting on the loss of rose.

to read on ao3, click here!

-

When the time came, he let the TARDIS guide him there.

He never knew where it had been or would be. He never knew what it would be like either. That was part of the Solarium's charm: it was a place which could only be found when it wasn't sought. Its unpredictability made it what it was.

And it had been a night for unpredictability. But he'd delivered the bride safely home. Snow still sugared the shoulders of his suit when the halls began changing.

"I'm not ready," he felt himself say. The words echoed hollowly ahead of him, down funny sharp turns and looping passages. He was raw and exposed and though he was very alone, he didn't feel alone—he felt stifled by memories, ghosts crowding the edges of his vision.

He needed time. He needed more of it, reams of it, an endless fountain of it. He needed all the time there was, and more—because that's what it would take.

But he followed the lights anyway. What else could he do?

Down corridors and stairwells, he let the ship lead him. Up a spiral staircase. Behind a false wall. The TARDIS was rarely consistent, but she was kind: she let him take the long way 'round.

When the arched doorway finally presented itself, the weak light was already filtering out through the cracks. Dry, brown leaves skittered and hushed as he put his palm to the creaky wooden door and pushed.

Autumn.

Inside the Solarium, it was autumn.

Outside, too. The atmosphere beyond the high, domed glass and iron lattice work appeared blue—a pale, eggshell blue, verging on grey. Clouds melded seamlessly with sky. The chill of it was almost a visible thing.

Within the Solarium, everything was in its proper place: the sundial, made now of stone, though in the past it had been many things—wood, then ceramic, then glass, then gleaming quartz; the pond where nothing lived and nothing grew, but the water itself danced. The ivy still crept perpetually up the lattices.

And in the center of the room, the tree still stood.

The tree in the Solarium belonged to no particular genus, had no particular name, though he'd searched the TARDIS library to find one. The bark of its massive trunk was smooth and unobtrusive, marred only by the occasional scar of some long distant, unknown trauma. It never fruited, though he'd seen it in every season. Its leaves often changed shape or grew irregularly, patchy and strange.

And at present, it was an explosion of colour.

The Doctor said nothing.

Gold, gold. So many golden leaves hung from those broad branches. Shades varied from the palest sunrise to a hue so rich and dark as to be nearly orange. In some spots, clusters of browning, dead leaves hung, poised to fall.

His eyes avoided those patches, drawn instead to where the vibrant colour was thickest. It was the gold of hair, of puddled sunlight, of a young sun. In spite of himself, he began crossing the tiled floor.

The loose laces of his plimsolls disturbed the occasional fallen leaf, a crackling announcement of his presence. But he still approached slow, like he would meet a wild animal. He stepped cautiously over where thick roots had broken through the floor.

It was only when his hand began to lift, fingers extended, that he paused.

"I'm not ready," he whispered, scarcely a moment before a vibrant daisy-heart-yellow leaf broke free and fell—right into his waiting hand.

     "I'll never get used to this. Never. Different ground beneath my feet," and she's jumping, bouncing on her heels, and she's smiling, and it’s lovely, "different sky… What's that smell?"

     "Apple grass," he tells her, eager to share everything he knows.

     "Apple grass… It's beautiful. Oh, I love this. Can I just say, travelling with you, I love—"

"No."

The Doctor's hand spasmed, and the leaf fell, taking with it the scent of a different world. Apple grass. Such a crisp, fresh smell. He could never smell it again without thinking of her.

His throat felt tight. He wasn't ready.

Yet how many times had he stood just like this and let the memories wash over him?

Often they were green—hopeful springtimes of gentle past, a balm when he needed it most. Reminders of the goodness which existed in pockets of the universe, waiting to be discovered.

Sometimes, they came frost-fanged and bitter, serrated edges cutting him to the bone. Regret was grey. Steel grey.

All his companions had bloomed and withered here, on these unreal branches.

But this—the season the tree offered him was too cool and serene for what he felt. This… gentle giving-way. There was a storm inside him.

She had not passed gracefully into another season; she had been torn from his world, and her world, and the TARDIS, and him. How could that be beautiful?

How could that be golden?

He moved in a rush, grasping suddenly at the nearest withered clutch of leaves. He was only just tall enough to reach, and when he closed his fist, he came away with—

     Pleading. "Help her."

     But he isn't moved. "Everything has its time," he says, "and everything dies."

—and,

     "No." Sarah Jane stands firm. Sure in herself. "The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world, or a relationship," and the guilt cuts him open as he thinks of her, the leaves on her tree; then he thinks of Rose. "Everything has its time—"

—and,

     "Why don't you ever just say what you mean?"

     "Rose—"

     "It's always talking with you, but you never…" She shakes her head, hair catching the light of the console. He wants to hold her so badly he can barely speak. "Just tell me this, Doctor: you and me, is it ever gonna change? Will we ever…?" She drifts off, uncertain.

     "Everything changes." It's not really an answer, but it's the best he can do. "I promise."

—and in a blink, his fist closed. The brittle memories crushed to dust in his hand.

They were still there, of course: in him, in the TARDIS herself, and they always would be. They would grow anew, changing shape over time. Even at the topmost parts of the tree, people who were long gone lived forever: his granddaughter, with her untameable smile; an old historian who loved cocoa and cake and driving him spare; a young boy who was so brave, and so clever, and so very foolish; an Edwardian adventuress who followed him into madness.

The companions of his many lives.

They crowded their way up into the highest branches. One day, Rose would live among them, a golden crown to this ancient tree.

But even that knowledge held no comfort.

"No more," he said, "please."

Around him, the room gave a faint, irritated huff—like a creaky groan and a hum at once. And from somewhere else, a wind stirred. Focused and strong. Pay attention, it seemed to say, or else did say, in its own language.

A leaf the colour of liquid gold wriggled and broke loose, and he knew better than to run from it. All he could manage was to stand his ground as it smacked, with unusual force, into his chest.

The image burst over him.

     "Anything else?"

     "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

     He sees where the woman—the bride—is looking. Over his shoulder. His gaze follows her, and he feels all the air leave his lungs. There is an infinite space between one heartsbeat and the next. But it’s real. It’s really her. No hologram or vision or ghost. No memory.

     In the darkness, a light. Blonde hair glinting, her eyes holding his. And then he's running. Running flat out.

     She's all he can see.

     The feeling inside him is like nothing else. Like being reborn.

     Her smile crosses the distance, gilded and lovely, meeting him before his arms can reach her. But even before his touch lands, he knows he’s already home.

The Doctor blinked. A hand rose to wipe down his own face, smearing the tears he hadn't felt fall. His from another time.

His feet stumbled forward, and he caught himself against the tree's giant trunk.

"Not a memory," he whispered to the silence, in all its enormity, its electric potential. "Not yet."

Prescience, passed down to him by the brush of a leaf. This had never happened before.

But then, there had never been anybody like Rose before, had there? She'd left her mark on the TARDIS, on the vortex itself, every bit as much as she'd left her mark on him.

The pads of his fingers felt out a scar in the wood. One he hadn't seen before. It had an odd shape to it, an asymmetry that reminded him a little of an animal in profile: a jagged protrusion, and the swell of a haunch.

Something with its nose to the sky.

He traced it twice before he understood. The muzzle. The howling. His chest felt weightless, for a moment. Uncompressed by longing and grief, his hearts beat freely.

The Doctor, with his hand to the wolf, wheezed out a shocked laugh as he suddenly remembered that these leaves were also the colour of flame. Of timeless, endless burning, searing and rewriting.

     "I bring life."

From its bark and its branches, from its roots and its high crown, the tree seemed to shiver out a very long sigh as he finally grasped its message. Everything has its time, it breathed. Its hope was golden.

The shades of it all swirled together and tangle, an infinite vortex, laden and dripping with life still to come, and it was beautiful.

The Doctor smiled, removed his hand, and turned from the tree.

Her time—and his—and theirs—was not yet over.

There was more to be done. And he was ready.

#wow tenrose angst? from me? groundbreaking #anyway i hope you enjoy <3 sorry about the long wait!! #fic and chips #tenrose #dw fic #timepetals #prompt fic #ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #abbey writes #idk how to tag fics anymore. seriously. how do we tag things here without being So Annoying. someone tell me

[chosos-mascara]

gojo's bride (teaser)

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - mafia au, mentions of violence, arranged marriage

this fic also includes suguru, sukuna and toji!

Throughout childhood, an image of marriage is painted by your family. A contract between soulmates; a display of love to a person. Notes of a traditional wedding decorated with chairs of close friends and relatives, smiles wide and eyes glassy. Or, maybe you were better suited to a romantic elopement followed by a getaway, littered with intimate moments before announcing yourself a wife. In the end, the outcome is the same, one drilled into you by your parents since a young age. Perhaps while innocent, you had indulged within the images of a princess-like gown and florals winding around an ornate staircase - though with age and your growing understanding of your father's business values, you'd understood this wasn't a day to look forward to. 

When those in your clan would mention a prospective husband, someone your father would pick by hand, your heart would race excitedly, hands grasping over your chest as you swooned in adoration. There had been a semblance of what you'd pictured your future husband to look like, though that had since dwindled. When hitting twenty, reality setting in that this was another thing you would not be experiencing normally, you tried to push the idea away. To your family, you were a pawn, and your marriage would be nothing other than an advantage to them - because when born as a woman within the world of Japanese illegitimate business, there were more hurdles than most. Your life had been seemingly filled with one sacrifice after another, and marriage was looking to be the largest one yet. 

Which is why, a courthouse wedding planned only twelve hours prior hadn't been what you'd envisioned. Despite the loss of formality and tradition there had still been anxiousness bubbling within the pit of your stomach, hands clammy as you took hold of the man you'd barely known while reciting an unbreakable oath. Instead of a dress, you'd been in cargos and a longsleeved top, though Gojo had displayed a little more care over the ordeal - a crisp blue shirt and slacks, black lenses over his eyes an a Rolex on his wrist. He slid the ring over your finger, delivering vows that had meant very little to either of you, and you'd repeated the action moments later, heart racing when the officiant had announced that you were now bound by law. Geto and Sukuna signed the certificate, and the four of you left to return to the shitty apartment you'd been hiding within for the past week. A weight had been lifted, but a new one had only taken its place. 

send an ask/comment to be tagged when the fic drops! <3

honestly this is taking forever to write and i just wanted to share something from what i've been doing :')

#gojo fic #gojo teaser #gojo marriage #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jjk x reader

[badgirl411]

A Work Of Art PART 3: (Modern!Nikolai Lantsov x Reader AU) FANFIC

Pairings: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader, Sturmhond x Reader

Summary: The day of the gala rolls around and (Y/N) bumps into a familiar face, however as the night rolls on and the festivities come to an end she is faced with a surprise that leaves her with questions.

Warnings: strong language, alcohol, crime, breaking and entering

Authors Note: Hello all, apologies for the delay in the chapter its been a hectic week back to work.  As well as working I have been trying to work on getting into the Film and TV industry so even on my days off i’m working from home. Thank you all again for the love you’ve shown towards this it is appreciated. IF ANYONE WISHES TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST DO NOT HESITATE TO SEND ME A MESSAGE TO BE ADDED.

The gala was tomorrow and to say you were stressed was an understatement, everything was in place there was nothing left to do except pick up your dress but yet your mind threw every possible fuck up into your thoughts.

You are running around your office doing god knows what when the loud vibrating of your phone knocks you from your frantic daze. Lunging for the phone you aggressively tap the call button to greet the person on the other end of the phone.



Genya calling…



Genya was your tailor, the mastermind behind your gown for the gala. She came highly recommended through several employees of Lantsov Art and Antiquities and so you agreed she had to be the one to have this commission. Since your first appointment you and Genya had grew close often meeting for a glass or two of wine to take the edge of the day.

“(Y/N) my darling hello, I have exciting news it’s ready. You got time to swing by and pick it up?” She excitedly squealed on the other side of the phone as she delivered the news your gown was ready.

“Genya sweetheart I am so glad you called, of course I will swing by right now. I need some air anyway!” A sigh of relief took the weight off your shoulders, everything truly was in place for tomorrow. Grabbing your keys you rush out the door eager to see the masterpiece your friend has created for you.

After a quick pit stop at the coffee shop to grab you both some fuel in the form of caffeine you arrive at her shop, the large windows displaying her genius pieces. On one side a floor length scarlet red dress, the bodice layered with lace and hugging the bosom of the mannequin. It was fierce, striking and gave an air of femme fatale, in the opposite window a baby blue two piece suit the suit elegant yet screamed professional.

In the middle of the floor a young bride stood in front of the assistant and wept at the sight of herself in the dress made for her special day. You shared a small smile with her as you greeted Genya who had emerged from the back of the shop.

“(Y/N) my darling come come!” She ushered you through to her office where hanging in a long black covering your dress sat. “And you brought coffee, I knew you were a good one the first time I met you.” She gladly accepted the coffee taking a large sip before breathing a sigh of relief.

“You ready?” Genya grinned widely excitedly jumping from one foot to the other.

You gave her an excited nod nursing your coffee before she pulled the zip on the covering off to reveal the dress. A gasped fell from your lips as your eyes began to well with tears at the sight of the garment you would be wearing on your special night. Your fingers glided over the fabric imagining yourself with the piece on.

It was golden the bodice tight adorned with sparkling lace, it would fall elegantly off your shoulders hugging your body in all the right places before pooling by your ankles. The skirt woven with flecks of black material and intricate stitching, she had made a dress reminiscent of your favourite art piece.

“You made it inspired by The Fold, how did you know?” You were confused, delighted and in awe of her talent all at once.

“It’s a funny story actually, you said surprise you and I had no idea what to do I mean I had a few ideas I wasn’t totally on board with any of them thought until I came back to the shop one day and found a note on my desk that said the piece was your favourite and so I asked several members of your staff about the piece and they all confirmed. So after visiting the gallery to view the piece I came up with the perfect idea. I still have no idea who left the note on my desk though.” She tells you the story whilst you both nurse the cup of coffee in your hands.

“How strange, they were right though. I adore the painting but this this is pure genius Genya. It is really beautiful. I can’t thank you enough, please tell me you are still coming tomorrow?” You shift excitedly.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world (Y/N).” She pulls you into a hug before you have to make your way back to the office to finish the last dregs of paperwork before locking up for the night.

The next day rolls around quicker than you even realised, making your way to the salon to get your hair styled for the evening ahead. You are a block from the salon when you see a flash of blond hair, as you journey closer you see its Cole he’s standing with a male and female discussing something intently. As he turns he sees you venturing closer and waves you over gracing you with a boyish smile. As you greet each other and exchange pleasantries he rests a hand on your shoulder before turning back to the pair standing in front of you both exchanging a shared look only they know.

“Tamar, Tolya this is (Y/N) she’s a friend.” The pair glance at each other both raising a brow at Cole before greeting you.

After a short conversation you explain your perceived rush telling them about the gala, handing your business card over to Cole you tell him to text you anytime and that you would talk soon.

After all the primping and styling you arrive fully decked out at the venue stepping out the car with caution fearing you may break your ankle in these goddamn heels. The venue is breathtaking a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling reflecting streams of light all over the venue, the art and family pieces are placed around the facility with perfect precision. Everyone looks great, equally dressed to the nines.

The evening is going swimmingly with idle friendly chat, the bubbles are flowing and your head feels light your attitude carefree. You’ve earned this night you are going to enjoy it, not even Vasily could ruin this for you.

After being introduced and the news broken the crowd gives a round of applause and you make a small speech thanking everyone for their attendance and confidence in your abilities.

Yourself and a few other head to a bar The Crow Club, owned by a few friends of yours. You spend a few hours with the small crowd exchanging stories, sharing a few drinks and laughing into the night.

It’s the small hours when you stumble into your apartment kicking off your heels and making your way to your fridge for a glass of refreshing cold water. Hoping it eases the spinning in your head and the dryness in your throat, you blame Jesper for that after he appeared from behind the bar with a round of tequila.

Something grabs your attention from the corner of your eye, stunned at what you see the glass falls from your grasp shattering on the floor of your kitchen. Settled on the arm chair in your living space is a painting  with a small envelope attached.

With shaking hands and a now shockingly sober mind you open the envelope, inside a note lies it reads…

“Something as beautiful as you (Y/N) deserves something equally as beautiful.”

Staring at the small piece of paper in disbelief you turn it over in your hands dropping it to the floor when you see the word it reveals.

                                                  Sturmhond.



How did a world famous art thief and one of the most wanted men in the world know your name?

Know where you live?

How did he get in?

Then again it doesn’t surprise you given his track record.

The thing that sends a chill down your spine and your mind into overdrive is what painting it is.



The Fold.

TAGLIST: @xceafh @sweetOpia-uwu @spencersfish @luvly-writer

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x reader #modern!nikolai lantsov x reader #sturmhond #sturmhond x reader fanfic #modern!sturmhond x reader #sturmhond smut #nikolai smut #nikolai lantsov x reader fanfic #shadow and bone

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fall 2022 Anime Overview- Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

It’s time to start reviewing the anime I watched in the fall season! There’s some anime I chose to save for later, like Bocchi the Rock! (which I’m watching now and enjoying) and Raven of the Inner Palace, though I’ve heard great things about it and it’s a rare shoujosei adaptation so definitely go check it out! I might do a review of that when I do get to watch it, since it’s been overlooked this season with so many heavy hitters.

But onto what I did watch! And this one has so much to chew on it gets a whole post to itself.

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury

A top contender for anime of the year for me. It’s not over yet though, so I pray it sticks the landing with the next season(s).

The anime follows Suletta Mercury, a girl who arrives at a new school (and new planet!) with her giant robot Aerial. Quickly she discovers a girl named Miorine, who’s desperate to escape to Earth because her bigwig father has decreed that people can duel with their giant robots for Miorine’s hand in marriage. Mio is not at all on board with this, especially because her current fiance is an abusive jerk. Suletta confronts the jerk fiance, challenges him to a duel and...well, you can probably guess what happens, especially if you’ve seen Revolutionary Girl Utena.

(And if you haven’t, go watch it! Though look up content warnings if you’ve got specific triggers or don’t often deal with darker media. I’ve got an episode breakdown here!)

Anyway, Gundam said Gay Space Rights.

Meanwhille, Suletta’s mother, Prospera (yes, it’s a codename AND a reference to The Tempest) has a thirst for revenge after a horrible wrong was done to her by the terrible corporation Mio’s dad heads, and has secret plan brewing behind the scenes. There’s alson conflict between Earthlings and the space-faring people who are exploiting them. Meanwhile all poor Suletta wanted to do is make some friends and enjoy a couple of dates!

This anime is so good so far, and was specifically targeted for me in so many ways it’s not funny. A fun cast of characters? Well written queer girls? Shadowy parental manipulation? A protagonist who’s sweet and shy yet supremely dangerous? Good action that’s driven by good character dynamics? Lots of cool women kicking ass? Tangled relationships and tons or well written relationship drama?

I’ve definitely enjoyed a few mecha shows (like Planet With),but I tend to bounce off them, in part because I have a hard time telling what’s happening when robots are fighting and the technobabble starts flowing. That still is occasionally an issue in this show, but because the fights are so driven by character conflict and there’s clear stakes I can follow along with (like the fact using a Gundam for too long is supposed to kill you), it’s not as much as an issue as it usually is. And Gundam knew exactly how to lure me in. The second I heard the whole first episode was a Utena reference, it pulled me in and I’ve enjoyed every second since.

The whole first episode echoing Utena does show the show’s pedigree (the series composer actually wrote the Utena light novels) and offers a little reassurance for audiences hoping it delivers on its queer storylines But the show is no rip-off, and it it very much does its own thing from that point on. Suletta isn’t Utena, and Miorine isn’t Anthy and this is apparent from the first episode. Suletta is achingly insecure, Miorine isn’t resigned to being a bride and has a short temper and abrasive attitude. The show isn’t about gender or compulsory heterosexuality (so far), it just has a lot of complex female characters in a wide variety of roles and has a developing romance between two women as the central relationship.

But like Utena, abuse is a huge theme, but very specifically parental abuse. Both Miorine and Suletta are being used as tools by their parents in a complex political game- Miorine is aware of this (though not the full scope of it, probably) while poor Suletta is very much in the dark. The way the parents use their children is chilling, but not without complexity- there are reasons to sympathize with Prospera, even if her treatment of her daughter is unforgiveable. She feels like a person, even thought we don’t know her full story.

The show also isn’t subtle about it’s political themes!

That particular conflict has been bubbling in the background, but handled well so far (there are some great, more subtle moments, like the news showing the ‘weapons’ from the protest above, which included ‘molotov cocktails’ clearly put there by the police, and...an umbrella.) But even if works have themes I like or agree with, what really matters to me is the characters and if they’re executed well. Fortunately, the show has a loveable cast whose journeys I look forward to with both excitement and trepidation.

Whether it’s the wonderfully angry Chuchu and her legendary [redacted] in episode 4, or the unpredictable arc of what started out as the show’s biggest (teenage) jerk, or seeing the funny romantic rivalries Lilique unwittingly gets entangled in, the show makes you care about these kids.

It’s also, as a side note, the best treatment of fat people I’ve seen in anime. There are a ton of plus-sized people in different roles, and they’re never made fun of (except for one mild comment in a later episode that is quickly shut down, and the person apologizes). Lilique is a chubby girl who’s allowed to just be the cute romantic one of the group and is canonically popular with the boys. Considering how anime is usually the opposite of body-positive, it’s really nice to see.

The central relationship of the show is, of course, Suletta and Miorine. And it’s a really fun relationship to follow. Even with the Utena reference and casual acceptance of gay marriage, I was a little worried about being baited by the show. But I’m happy to say I’m really satisfied with the development of the relationship so far. Both Suletta and Miorine are layered characters, and it’s great to watch the girls’ feelings grow as they miscommunicate and struggle and learn more about each other. We watch what starts as an engagement of convenience grow into a real bond, and root for these girls every step of the way. And yes, they’re bringing the gay.

But the relationship, and the show, is not without its shocking twists, and the very last minute of the last episode of this show left me a puddle on the floor and begging for more.This show can grab your heart and rip it out and you’ll thank them for it.

All I’ll say is fans of fascinating, screwed up women will be happy. I’m certainly happy! For now, at least. I like this show a lot, so I hope it doesn’t screw up it’s second season. It’s built up a lot of trust for me, but I’ve had that trust betrayed before. Such is the curse of being an anime fan, and a fan in general.

But for now, I whole heartedly recommend it, and encourage everyone to check it out! It’s got all the good things and there’s a ton to speculate on. Come freak out and theorize over that post credits scene where [redacted] with me.

#gundam witch from mercury #gundam the witch from mercury #mobile suit gundam #gundam #mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #revolutionary girl utena #anime overview #fall 2022 anime #my reviews #recs