#marriage cw

[selfshippingquotes]

S/I, after proposing to Romantic F/O: They said yes!

Platonic F/O: What was the question?

S/I: Will you marry me?

Platonic F/O: No??????

[crystalkiseki]

why did this sound like such a marriage proposal anyway

[drjohndisco]

Proposal

Pairing: Bee/Daniel

Warnings: mentions of food.

Word Count: 326

Summary: Bee talks about potatoes and Daniel proposes.

[A/N] I have no knowledge of the sg-1 seasons part seasons 4/5, but I based this conversation in season 8 (as it was inspired by one that occurs then - which I now can't find). Hopefully this makes sense. :]

‘You know, I think Jack was correct about the potatoes. They mash well, but they never have good consistency once that’s done. They go all cardboard like,’ Bee stated, flopping down on the couch. Daniel was currently standing by the fridge.

‘I don’t understand you, sometimes…’ Daniel sighed.

‘So, it's a mediocre mash, not a good mash…like Jack said.’

‘You do realise I don’t really care about potatoes, right? I was just continuing the conversation to make fun of him.’

‘They also don’t quite taste right. But then again…’ Bee broke off, noticing that Daniel was staring. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing, just looking at the person I’m in love with.’

‘Nerd.’ Bee said affectionately, reaching over and throwing a pillow at Daniel.

He ducked, and the pillow hit the fridge, knocking down the ring box he’d placed there and a bottle of wine. Daniel caught both and placed the wine on the floor.

‘Oh, well, I guess now’s a good time as ever.’ Daniel muttered, glancing down at the red box.

‘What was that?’

‘Nothing, I just, uh, I have a question…’

He was kneeling now, and he could feel the floor through his clothes.

‘Yeah?’ Bee replied, finally processing the position Daniel was now in.

‘Bee, will you marry me?’

‘Daniel, are you being serious right now?’ Bee asked, voice cracking.

‘I am, do you have a response?’

‘Yes! Of course I will!’

Daniel then stood up and stepped forward half a step, before kneeling again in front of them and slipping the ring on their finger. After he'd done this Bee reached their arms up around his neck and hugged him.

'Does this mean we can open the wine now?' Bee mumbled, face still in Daniel's chest.

Daniel laughed and let them go gently.

'Yeah, I suppose now is as good as any.' He said, reaching backwards and taking the bottle from the floor before raising it. 'Here's to us!'

'To the future,' Bee replied. 'together.'

'Together!'

[fates-theysband]

won't you stay with me, my darling?

FALSE ALARM I AM BACK BABY!!!

anyway uh. this is the thing ive been working on for two damb weeks. anyway herein lies uno reverse cards, getting dunked on by one's work buddies, and a. uh. um. [turns and runs out of the room]

--

The setting sun came as a relief. Fate’s office was quiet for the first time all day–all meetings with management concluded, all calls returned, all profiles received, reviewed, and filed away. The only thing he had left to do was wait for one brief meeting that could very well be hours away. Plenty of time to think, and nothing to interrupt him.

All the better, because while his office may have been quiet (save for the occasional soft rustling of Lady Pawdington adjusting her position on his lap) his mind was not. He was all at once paralyzed with indecision, sick with dread, vibrating with anxiety, and yet giddy with excitement. It was all too much, and he considered fabricating an excuse to leave early, to retire to his quarters and at least agonize about this in a more comfortable setting.

“No,” he murmured under his breath as he recalled what sight awaited him there, resting his forehead against one hand and using the other to gently scratch Lady’s head. He’d worry the velvet right off that little box on his bedside table if he spent another night turning it over in his hands, pondering the right time or if he even should.

Maybe he’d discuss it with someone else once this last meeting was finished. He just had to wait for–

“Uh, Fate?”

The sudden sound snapped him out of his ruminations, and he looked up at the source. A small figure in an oversized robe, with cat ears and gleaming yellow eyes. Spawn #89. Rico Chatte.

“Forgive me,” Fate responded, sitting up straighter in his desk and attempting to compose himself. “I didn’t expect you to arrive quite so early. Let’s go over your conduct for today.”

“Uhhhhh-huh,” they responded, raising an eyebrow suspiciously but pressing no further. “Sure. Let’s hear it.”

He rifled through the stack of profiles he’d left on his desk for this meeting. As usual, the correct ratio of life to death, although, as expected if not appreciated, they’d completely ignored everything else he’d asked of them for this batch. But that wasn’t a cause for termination, and he was in no mood to nettle them for it tonight, so he let it slide. “As I’ve come to expect from you, everything is in order. Nothing else to really say, so, unless you have any questions for me, I believe we can conclude this meeting.”

There was a silence as the two parties stared each other down, Fate silently willing Rico to leave as they seemed to be attempting to puzzle something out. The whole scene put him in mind of the moment right before a duel, that long few seconds before both opponents draw their weapons and attack.

“Okay, spill it. You’re acting weirder than usual. What’s going on?” Rico’s question pierced the silence like a hole punch, and their tone poked just as many holes in what Fate had thought was a perfect facade of nonchalance.

The keeper of world order scoffed dismissively at the feline reaper’s accusation. “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing going on. I’m simply…pondering something. Nothing you need to worry about.” Silently, he cursed himself for the slight hesitation.

“Are you kidding me?” Rico leaned forward, resting one hand on Fate’s desk and regarding him with narrowed eyes and alert ears. “The entire time I’ve worked here, the main thing I have ever needed to worry about is you pondering things. If you are pondering something, I need to know what it is as soon as possible for my own mental health.”

“The dilemma currently troubling me is not one I would consider it appropriate to ask an employee’s advice on,” Fate responded, more sharply than he intended. He cleared his throat, taking a breath to compose himself. “I apologize for the outburst. It’s a…personal matter, is all. Not to worry, I’ll figure it out on my own time. See you tomorrow.”

Rico made no move to leave, although their expression changed from accusatory to confused. “A ‘personal matter’? What, are you and Charlie having relationship issues or something? They make it seem like everything’s fine, but…”

“That is none of your business,” Fate hurriedly cut Rico off before they could say anything further. Of all the people in the Office for his beloved to have as a close friend… “And, actually, it’s quite the opposite,” he added, quietly, glancing aside and feeling his face warm slightly.

“‘Quite the opposite’, huh?” Rico said, looking (appropriately) like the cat that ate the canary. “Thinking of taking a big step?”

There was no denying it now. Fate sighed and turned back to face his subordinate. “If you breathe a word of this, especially to Charlemagne, the consequences will be dire,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah, my lips are sealed, I’ve kept a lid on juicier stuff than this,” Rico waved away the warning, rolling their eyes. “Let’s hear it.”

“Lately I have been wondering if I should…” he paused to swallow, trying not to choke on what came next. “...ask them to marry me.”

The silence descended on the room again, both parties seeming in deep contemplation. The reaper spoke first once again. “Honestly, I think you should go for it.”

The encouragement came as a pleasant surprise. “Is that so?” Fate responded.

“Yeah,” Rico confirmed. “They talk about you like you hung the moon. It drives me nuts. I can’t mention you in conversation around them without hearing about this or that sooooo cute and charming thing you did last time they saw you.”

Fate turned bright red at that revelation. “I…I had no idea they spoke of me that way.”

“They do. Frequently. I’d put a lot of darksouls on them saying yes if you popped the question. And I have.”

“It heartens me to hear that. I appreciate the encouragement. Although I do wish to warn you that office betting pools are against–”

Rico cut him off as they began backing away from his desk toward the door. “Hey, won’t do it again, I think you letting this one slide is a fair trade, I’ll get out of your hair now, go get ‘em, tiger!” They gave a final thumbs up before slipping through the door entirely, closing it behind them and leaving Fate alone in his office.

He glanced down at Lady Pawdington, who was in turn looking curiously up at him, and ran a hand over her head once again. Now if only he could think of a good place…

–

Inventory day at the Emporium was usually a lively occasion, or at least as lively as that dusty old hall could get. But today Charlie wasn’t much in the mood for banter. Too much to think about. Instead they contented themself with the calming rhythm of unpacking and repacking desk widgets, outfits, and visages into storage boxes, only faintly noticing the sounds of their employer softly humming and jotting down names and quantities.

The thoughts were burning a hole in their mind. They were itching to tell someone, but if this somehow got back to him…well, it probably wouldn’t be a disaster, but it’d definitely take the wind out of their sails (heh) to know the surprise was spoiled. And as much as they wanted to tell everyone lest they explode from having to keep their anticipation inside, there was another part that wanted to keep this fully secret, to give nobody else the satisfaction of knowing. All the same, though…a bit of advice would not go amiss. This was not something they could afford to mess up.

They decided to chance it. “Hey, Mortimer?” they asked, glancing over at the skeletal pirate sitting a few paces away. “Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

“I’d be disappointed if ye were to ask me a normal one!” Mortimer quipped in response. “Fire away.”

“So, you’re pretty worldly, right? Lot of life experience? Probably have seen just about everything?” Charlie began, twisting in their seat so the two were facing each other.

Mortimer buffed their nails (or where their nails would be, if they still had flesh) on their shirt in mock dismissiveness. “Not to toot me own horn, of course, but aye, you could say ol’ Mortimer’s weathered just about every storm there is.”

“Good, good. I’ve got a little hypothetical for you,” Charlie continued, entwining their fingers and resting their chin on them. “So, let’s say, for the sake of argument, you have this friend. And your friend has been…courting someone for a long time.”

“Aye,” Mortimer responded, sitting forward on their stool. “Don’t suppose me friend and their love interest correspond to anybody I’d know in real life, do they?” Skeletons weren’t the most expressive bunch, and yet it was somehow clear they were smirking knowingly.

“You can think that, if it helps you contextualize it,” Charlie responded with a shrug. “The point is, your friend comes to you one day with a dilemma. They would like to propose to their beloved, but they aren’t sure about a few things.”

“Well,” Mortimer put a hand to their chin in thought. “I’ve received me fair share of marriage proposals, and given a few of ‘em, so I’m happy to give ye–er, sorry, this hypothetical friend yer askin’ on behalf of –some nuggets of wisdom.”

“Great! So they’re not overly worried about the possibility of being rejected–it’d hurt for sure, but no need to count their chickens in either direction here. But I don’t–THEY don’t,” Charlie hurriedly corrected themself, “have much experience with this sort of thing. They’ve only really seen it in stories. They don’t really have the time or resources for anything big or showy, but…would it really be enough to just drop to one knee and ask?”

Mortimer seemed to ponder for a moment, before answering, “If I know the captain–and I’d say I do, I did plunder their wardrobe, after all–they’d probably rather ye do that than make a big show of it. I can picture the old sea dog keelin’ over on the spot if ye so much as asked ‘em in public!” They punctuated the statement with a guffaw.

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh in response. “You’re probably right. Wouldn’t be much of an occasion if that happened,” they joked. “I’m just nervous, I guess. You probably understand how it is.”

“Aye, that I do,” Mortimer replied. “But with the way they are around ye…well, I’ve been thinkin’ about what I’d say in me speech at yer reception for a long time.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” Charlie said with a shake of the head and a small chuckle. 

“Ol’ Mortimer can always tell which way the wind’s gonna blow,” the quartermaster boasted.

“I guess so.” More quietly, they continued, “You’re not gonna tell anybody, are you?”

“Nay, never,” Mortimer responded. “But I’d better get to hear how they reacted.”

“You’ll be the first to know. Swear to it.”

–

The silence in the top-floor office almost seemed to hum with anticipatory energy. Or, the sole being occupying it mused to himself, perhaps that was just projection, an attempt to reduce the weight on his mind by unfurling it and laying it across the entire room.

He’d made special preparations for tonight–no chance anyone could interrupt, no chance anything could interfere. Just him, his beloved, and the view from his office window–the night sky combined with the lights from Cosmopolis City below looked uniquely stunning tonight. Hopefully it was a romantic enough setting to warrant a proposal–anything else he could think of had felt too contrived, too obvious, too much. 

Fate glanced uneasily from the window to the clock on the wall. Charlie should be arriving any moment now. They’d reacted unexpectedly when he’d asked them to meet him in his office after they finished their shift–they seemed to noticeably relax, as though something had been worrying them and he’d just given them carte blanche to forget it entirely. Then they’d said, “I’ll see you then. Can’t wait,” kissed him, and headed back into the Emporium. That had only been a few hours ago, but it felt so long ago, and the sentiment they’d expressed–can’t wait–was one he shared.

Faintly, from the small entryway just outside his office, he heard the unmistakable ding of the elevator pull him back into the moment. Adjusting the box in his pocket one more time for good measure, he took a deep breath and then strode toward the door.

–

The elevator whirred toward the top of the building, announcing with faint tones every floor it passed. Charlie still retained their floor visibility clearance, despite everything, and they wished more fervently than ever before that they hadn’t. The building was far too tall, the wait far too agonizing. It was by no means uncommon for Fate to ask them to meet him in his office once they finished their shift, but the way he’d carried himself…they’d seen him that nervous exactly once before, and it was when the two of them met for their first date.

The memory brought a smile to their face. He’d been a little late–only by a few minutes, although he’d apologized profusely nonetheless and was clearly distressed that he hadn’t been able to make the exact time. They’d wasted no time forgiving him, their worries that he would stand them up or that they’d misinterpreted his intentions fading away. They could tell whatever worries he’d had were quelled in that moment too, and the only memory of that night they treasured more than the sight of his brow unfurrowing and his lips slowly curling into a subtle smile was the goodbye.

The two of them had been standing in the elevator outside the Emporium, preparing to go their separate ways for the night. Fate was asking, with a level of verbosity typical of one who hadn’t had much experience navigating romance, if they’d like to go out with him again sometime, and Charlie, still giddy about even getting to go out with him this time, had cut him off with an impulsive kiss and a delighted “Yes!!!”

The slight jolt of the elevator halting, followed by the whir of the opening doors, cut off the reminiscing. They patted the ring box in their pocket (logically, they knew it hadn’t gone anywhere, but with how many different trains of thought they had chugging in different directions, it felt important to ensure that they hadn’t forgotten the thing entirely), and made their way toward the door. They knocked once, heard Fate respond “come in” from the other side, and pulled the door open.

There he was, standing on the other side, hands behind his back, wearing a nervous smile. The moonlight shining through the windows illuminated him beautifully, and as he extended his hand to take theirs, Charlie found themself reminded of a romance novel. Two lovers, alone under a beautiful night sky, about to pledge their eternal devotion to one another.

Or, well, they hoped that last part was true and not just wishful thinking.

Fate pressed a kiss to their hand. “Good evening, my love,” he said, in that gentle tone they could only hope he reserved for them alone. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“I could say the same for you,” Charlie replied, feeling their face warm and chuckling shyly. “Nobody better to spend such a beautiful night with. Although…the night sky’s not exactly the most beautiful thing I see right now,” they teased.

It never failed. Fate blushed harder than Charlie had ever seen before and his composure, while not completely gone, was clearly shaken. “Well…it’s interesting that you should mention the night sky,” he murmured, and though his glasses still concealed his eyes it was clear he was having trouble looking at them. “I thought it might create a…a suitable atmosphere.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. Surely he wasn’t also…they asked, “A suitable atmosphere for what?”

“There is…something I need to ask you. Something I have wanted to ask you for quite a long time.” He released their hand and reached into his pocket.

The anticipation was killing them. “And that is?” 

The silence as Fate lowered himself to one knee was as agonizing as it was brief. Charlie watched with a quiet excitement threatening to burst forth prematurely as he revealed what was in his hands: a small velvet box, which he opened to reveal a ring.

“Charlemagne, will you marry me?”

The excitement, no longer premature, burst forth immediately. Through delighted giggles, Charlie answered, “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just have something to show you. You’re not going to believe this,” and fumbled in their pocket for a moment, pulling out their own ring box. Popping it open, they continued, “Fate, will you marry me?”

The two of them remained like that for a moment, staring at each other, in awe at what had just happened. Fate spoke first. “I…believe we both have our answers, don’t we?” He rose to his feet, and Charlie wasted no time throwing themself into his arms, nearly knocking the both of them to the floor.

“I love you,” they sobbed joyfully, burying their face in his chest and squeezing him tighter, desperate to get as close as they possibly could. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

Softly, Fate replied, “And I love you. Eternity is a long time, but I can think of no one better to have by my side throughout it.”

Charlie broke the embrace, pulling back just enough to reach up and pull Fate into a kiss. Eternity may be a long time, but they could happily spend all of it in this moment.

[reasonsforhope]

"Colombia’s congress has voted to change a law that allowed minors to get married with parental consent.

The proposal would make the minimum age for marriage 18, and seeks to protect the rights and development opportunities for minors. It still must be signed into law by President Gustavo Petro.

Currently, the country’s civil code allows person as young as 14 years old to get married with parental consent.

The initial proposal to reform the law – presented in 2023 – used the slogan “they’re girls, not wives” and aimed to prevent young girls from being forced to marry, to be subject to different forms of violence and to miss out on education and development opportunities.

“Minors are not sexual objects, they’re girls,” congresswoman Clara López Obregón said in a statement after the proposal was greenlit.

Child marriage remains a widespread practice worldwide and affects around 12 million girls per year, according to the UN’s agency for children, UNICEF.

But there’s been a global drop in child marriages over the past few years, according to the agency’s statistics. “Ten years ago, one in four young women aged 20 to 24 was married as a child. Today that number has fallen to one in five,” UNICEF said.

In Latin America, poverty is the main factor leading to minors getting married, according to UNICEF."

[quarterlifekitty]

am so late but medieval fantasy with arranged marriage/wrong bride trope and a "supposedly" cold duke who found out that their wife/partner's family is toxic and how DARE they make their beloved life's hell aaaaa

I LOVE the trope of like arranged marriage to super fucking scary guy but then it’s actually soooo easy to get him pussywhipped. At first I thought of this for ghost but PSYCH you ghost hoes because it’s Nikolai time tbh

cw: arranged marriage, allusions to abuse

Duke Nikolai is getting married, so it is whispered, purely for two reasons: legitimacy and heirs. He’s known far and wide for some less than savory reasons, and he was not born into nobility— his service to the kingdom has seen him be granted wealth and land quickly. While a marriage to him would grant greater wealth and stability, it would be considered something akin to social suicide.

Enter you, a lady of noble birth and some small renown. Only child of a rapidly declining house, finding you a match is the only way to save your family from complete destitution.

You have had a weak constitution for most of your life, and as such have lived in isolation. You’ve received almost no socialization, a cowering thing with no poise or dignity to speak of. You are, in a word, unmarriageable by noble standards.

It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement born from desperation on both sides. You’re engaged without even having met, your first meeting at the altar. Your handmaiden tries not to cry as she prepares you to wed the dark head of such an unsavory house— she’s heard every rumor, and fears for what will happen when she can no longer accompany you.

Nikolai cannot help but be amused by how you tremble against his hold. He sees you as a frightened doe. At the reception, he pulls you into his lap and rubs a thumb into your hip as he holds you, settling your frayed nerves.

The trend continues in your wedding bed when he keeps your back to his chest and has you come apart on his fingers before giving you his tongue, despite your protests about properness. But that’s what happens when you marry an uncouth commoner who’s made a name for himself in brothels across the continent instead of some high-born pup who’d be content to have you bleed on his sheets for the three minutes it would take him to cum and fall asleep.

Before, Nikolai saw this marriage as a union in name only. You’d have your dalliances with whatever stableboy or neighboring lord you pleased, while he chased the skirts of maids and tavern women. But when he has you tucked against him that first night, he gets the strange feeling that the bond you’re forging is one that can’t be traded or ignored. That there’s something to this… matrimony thing.

You’re still a bit fearful of him. He understands. You’ve been raised to think of your husband as the master, the one who decides your fate and keeps your bones unbroken as an act of generosity. But what he cannot stand is the flinching.

Your parents and teachers tried no small number of ways to try to make you an attractive, upstanding lady, you admitted— not angry at their methods, but ashamed at how they hadn’t worked. And he burned inside— a feeling not felt when a woman is your wife in name only.

Don’t worry, lanyashka. He has enough anger for the both of you.

[cowboyshit]

[bogcreacher]

dap me up husband!!

[katsurolle]

miserable wives and their pathetic husbands a.k.a. three living rooms worth of divorce

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Diluc x Reader

Summary: Kidnapped Reader begins to feel touch starved after being trapped for so long and finally reciprocates Diluc’s need for physical affection. Cue a steamy make-out session.

MDNI.

Warning(s): YANDERE content (do not read if you are not comfortable), kidnapping, imprisonment, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent (concerning touch), forced affection, forced kissing, steamy, !! heavily suggestive ending (smut implied)!!, slight hair pulling, slight isolation, forced marriage, they make out and both of them get somewhat turned on *gasp*

—————————

“Just one kiss. Please, darling.”

“No-“

Your protests were silenced by Diluc pushing his plush lips onto yours. The kiss was soft, delicate, and loving, something filled with longing after not seeing you for hours. However, the romance of it all didn’t mean much to you when you had been backed into the corner of your shared canopy bed with no way to escape.

You tightly fisted your hands into the sheets as his lips pressed insistently against yours, a discarded book next lying open on the silken bedding. You had been entertaining yourself pretty well before Diluc, your husband, had gotten home from a long day of work and business, deciding that he wanted to relish in your company after being deprived of it for so many hours. Your husband was a working man, and unfortunately for you, he only became more desperate to hold you after being separated most days.

Diluc’s arms caged you in while his thigh pressed against yours, heat seeping through the thin fabric. His winter clothes had been switched out for lighter ones with the coming spring, and you could feel every tensing muscle in his body as it shifted against your shamefully thin loungewear. You could feel the twitching of his body, the stiff movements that came with him resisting the urge to run his hands all over you. He knew you didn’t like him touching you. He knew that he was pushing it by kissing you with such intensity.

Today though, today was different. You didn’t mind the way his lips were bruising yours with each practiced tilt of his head. An all too human part of you was so tired of resisting every day, and it craved the warmth that you felt in those moments after he was done kissing you; those moments when he brought his gloved hands up to caress your face as you avoided his painfully adoring expression.

Hesitantly, you brought your tense arm up to graze the hair near the back of his head, each movement feeling slow and forced. But god, you were so desperate for the thought of being touched, and could no longer keep up the act of repulsion to the little physical touch Diluc gave you; you were tired of being careful to avoid every brush of skin, every silent show of affection.

Diluc knew it made you uncomfortable, and for the first few months of your “stay” you would have rather gagged yourself before you ever kissed him willingly. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and besides the maids who would barely look you in the eye, he was the only one you could reach out and hold.

Your hand landed on the back of his ponytail and you did you best to ignore how quickly Diluc stiffened under the shift in weight. His lips froze against yours in shock, but you pushed your hand further into his hair before anxiety made you pull it back. Your fingers curled into his locks, slightly tugging at the base where a ribbon held it back, and the first thing you thought was how absolutely soft it was.

You heard Diluc shakily breathe in, his eyes wide as he stared at you in disbelief. His hands landed firmly on your hips in an awkward attempt to put them somewhere. You could feel his fingertips digging into your skin, hands tense as he felt the new sensation of your fingers running through his hair.

…Clearly your touch was not unwelcome.

Feeling emboldened, you went further. With one of your hands still nestled in his hair, you rested the other one on his chest. You curiously ran it up to his collar, distracted by the new feeling of the coarse clothing and the strong body that shuddered underneath your light touch. You felt his heart beat unimaginably fast against your palm, heat seeping into your skin already from the light contact.

You quickly glanced up at his eyes and immediately became aware of the intensity of the look he was giving you. His gaze roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, searching fervently for something in your expression. You had never been the one to initiate anything before, much less encourage his behavior. You had always been quite cold to your captor ever since he had swept you away and locked you up in his mansion, too paranoid and in love to keep you anywhere but under his watchful eye.

You suddenly felt very nervous. Diluc’s blood red eyes reminded you of a predator, following every slight movement you made with rapt attention.

A primal part of you was scared of breaking eye contact with the dangerous man in front of you and you felt your heartbeat quicken for the first time in a while; whether it was fear or excitement, it made a fire light in your body.

Slowly, you leaned into him, ghosting your lips against his as he sharply inhaled, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as you focused on the rhythmic thrum of his heart. You moved the hand over his heart to join the other nestled in his hair. You pressed your chests together, practically melting into him as the lonely place in your heart sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you.

You were the closest to him you had ever been, and you were returning the affection he had showered you with since the day he took you away. In the moment, you were unaware as to what exactly was going through Diluc’s mind. This was a sign of you willingly accepting his love. A thing you had only ever seemed to acknowledge reluctantly. His self restraint snapped, and then his hands were everywhere.

What had gone from a sensual kiss of longing was now a passionate fight for breath, with every harsh press of his lips to yours ending and beginning again at a dizzying pace. His exhales met yours in quick, desperate pants, as he seemed only able to pull away for a second before attaching himself to you again.

You soon lost your balance from the onslaught and fell back onto the bed. Diluc paused for a brief moment before following you and carefully placing himself over you, putting his weight on one forearm and using his other hand to impatiently tug open his collar.

“Diluc?” You said, dazed by the sudden change in his behavior.

“Hot,” was the only thing he said, forgoing elaborating to instead nudge his face into the crook of your neck. You tensed as you felt his lips brush against the sensitive area, each exhale adding more heat to already damp skin.

You nearly screamed when you felt his lips settle onto your skin, his teeth latching onto your neck happily. He bit painful heat into your throat, marking each new spot he found with eagerness as he moved down your neck. He began pressing fleeting kisses up to your ear, which he then happily bit and abused. His tongue ran across the shell languidly, a teasing motion with a meaning more sensual behind it, and an unexpected bolt of electricity shot through you.

Diluc seemed to be caught between deciding to pin you underneath him or allowing your hands to be entwined in his hair. Eventually, he guided your hand up to where it had previously been, and you automatically pulled on the long strands just to ground yourself. He moaned at the feeling. You teased the ribbon away until it fell from his nape, watching bright red locks spill over the broad shoulders now caging you in.

Errant strands floated above you, teasing at your face and skin as Diluc ran his hands up and down the side of your waist. He panted in your ear and his hot breaths bounced against sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms.

You jumped as you felt his hand run to your thigh and squeeze, the firm grip making something light up in your stomach. You inhaled shakily, gasping as your realized that you were going to get what you wanted and more. Tonight was going to be a long night.

—————————

[selfshippingquotes]

S/I, talking to F/O: Never in my life have I met someone as repulsive as you are. Marry me.

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - mdni. cw pregnancy mention but only as a joke (calls reader a MILF), marriage discussion. f!reader (has breasts, is refers to with feminine terms), gojo and reader are in a “semi established” relationship aka idiots in love. self ship coded. wc 1.1k

“Do you really think right now is the time for this discussion, Satoru?”

Your knees are pulled to your chest to make room for your almost comically oversized boyfriend in your apartments’ barely big enough for one bathtub. He’s all limbs and broad shoulders and big arms and the sight, while delectable, makes you feel annoyed as you try to soak away what remains of your own post-mission injuries.

There’s a laceration on your right elbow, a blooming bruise on the opposite bicep, a slash on your thigh. The worst of it was handled back at the school thanks to Shoko but you refused further treatment, knowing a nice soak and rest would fix you up. Gojo showed up unexpectedly as soon as he heard you’d been roughed up today, holding your hand reassuringly the entire time.

You should have known better that his offer to take you home and immediately leave was not as listed on the label. He entered your apartment, kicked off his shoes, and followed you straight to the bathroom without a single word. It’s how you ended up here.

“No time like the present if you ask me. Every other time I’ve asked you’ve said "let's talk about it later” and now it’s later.”

Sighing, you listen to the gentle slosh of the warm water over the lip of the tub as he slides in behind you. Two long legs frame your body and you lean back against him, back pressed to his chest while he reaches around and cups each of your goosebump prickled breasts and squeezes them playfully.

“You’re asking me to marry you while squeezing my tits and making honking noises? Am I getting that right?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, yes.”

He chuckles and kisses your jaw, right beneath your ear. It’s his favorite spot, so unassuming yet so intimate. He knows you dab a little perfume there to give him something to look forward to and despite the stress and soil of the day, he sniffs hard and presses an additional kiss.

You reward him with a giggle and he leans over the top of your head, wrapping himself around you and gently running his fingers along the little reminders of how rough today was on you.

It motivates him to press his question even further.

“We don’t have to get married tomorrow, you know. We’ve been at this for long enough that we can wait but it’s time, babe.”

You want to understand his thinking but continually come up short, wondering why he wants something so permanent all of a sudden. Maybe it’s getting older, maybe it’s wanting to have someone to come home to that is more than his semi live-in girlfriend. So without thinking too deeply about it, you ask.

“This isn’t a no or anything so don’t immediately jump there,” you rush to clarify before speaking what’s on your mind lest he get the wrong idea. “But why? Why now?”

The answers are so clear to Satoru that he doesn’t have to think about them for a moment more, instead rubbing his thumb gently around the blue outline of the bruise on your arm.

“I could ask you the same. Why not? Why are you so convinced marrying me would be bad?”

Marriage used to be something he considered would be a burden. Love seemed like the least likely reason he’d marry, perhaps instead marrying reluctantly one day for the sake of his clan or to have kids or something. It never had romantic connotations until the day he realized he wanted to marry you.

Three years ago, a night not that dissimilar to the one the two of you are currently sharing, the realization hit him like a speeding train he couldn’t avoid. It was a culmination of nearly ten years worth of feelings, sure, but he knew as sure as he knew his own heart that you were it. The One, as they say.

Your injuries that night were worse than these ones and Shoko privately shared her concerns with him that your left arm would never fully recover from where it was snapped clean above the elbow. She did everything she could to heal it and you were confined to a sling for several weeks.

He was all too eager to come and take care of you, a little taste of what waking up and falling asleep next to you every day was enough to easily confirm you were it. You are it, still, years later and many long nights and early mornings since. Your grumpy mornings, your lazy afternoons, your evenings spent counting the stars twinkling lazily above your heads on the little adjoining balcony you spent most of your time on.

He was already in love with you, hanging on your every word and vying for every piece of attention you’d give him, but he knew that the rest of his life would be senseless if he couldn’t spend it by your side. Seeing you be so fallible, so painfully human and fragile, terrified him but it motivated him just as much.

Here he sits, still motivated to make you his forever, and he says he isn’t a romantic.

Scoffing, you turn your head to look up at him and gauge how he’s feeling. His face is impassive, brow raised, and suddenly you feel guilty for making him think the reason you’re apprehensive about marriage is him. It isn’t him, it never has been. It’s you.

“Marrying you would be the best thing to ever happen to me, Satoru but I don’t think it would be the best thing to ever happen to you.”

Now it’s his turn to scoff incredulously, pulling your head against his chest so he can rest his chin on top of it. The water sloshes even more and you shift, trying to avoid the friction from your half damp skin against his but there’s no use. He’ll take a little pain if it means he gets to have you this close.

“I know it would be the best thing to happen to me. Ever. In all my life.”

You laugh, shaking your head and wincing as you bend your elbow and the soreness catches up with you. He moves to cradle your arm gently in one of his palms, using the other to keep your cheek pressed to his chest.

“I’m afraid you’ve finally convinced me,” you whisper and he laughs. You wince again as he shifts and drags you with him, water splashing over the edge of the tub while he situates you in his lap facing him the best that he can. Your chest presses against his and you’re face to face, his eyes searching you for any trace of second thoughts.

“You mean it?”

You cup his cheeks in your palms and nod, a coy smile breaking into a grin to mirror his own as he pulls your left hand away from his face and pulls it to his mouth to kiss the back of your ring finger.

“Yes, I’ll marry you. I’d be honored to be your wife even if I think you’re setting yourself up for a lifetime of disappointment.”

Dropping your hand, he slides his arms around your torso and picks you up squealing and thrashing while water drips off of your bodies and back into the tub below. It’s a distraction tactic, of course, to keep you from delving any further into your own fears and doubts, but a man will do what a man must to make his fiancé smile.

“I think I’m setting myself up for a lifetime of laughing and great food and watching you turn into a MILF.”

Snorting, you swat his chest playfully with one hand and reach for the towels on the rack next to you with the other. You dry his hair first, giggling with each funny face he makes until you finish and wrap the towel around his shoulders.

“Are you threatening to turn me into a MILF, sir?”

The blood rushes from his head further downward as he pictures the insinuation you’re making and he smiles devilishly.

“If that’s what you want, consider it a promise.”

[fates-theysband]

pornbot sent me an ask saying "do you like h0me videos? 😉" ma'am i have a tumblr url describing me as being bound in holy matrimony to a nerdy looking dilf from an indie game about skeletons and i regularly post about how much i want to kiss said nerdy dilf do i look like your target audience

[abbyfmc]

Yandere story idea #20(+18)

Yandere ex vs Yandere husband x female reader:

Your yandere fiancé becomes your yandere husband, and both you and he are very happy together. This makes your yandere ex FURIOUS, which your yandere husband notices and not only gives him a stern warning, but mocks him behind your back; to the point that when you and your yandere husband have sex, he moans very loudly on purpose. He also makes sure that your yandere ex knows how much you enjoy it.

[verecunda]

Genuinely do not understand those people who are like "but we don't know Celegorm intended to rape Lúthien!!!" What the actual fuck do you think he kidnapped her for... so he, Curufin and Celebrimbor would have a fourth for a bridge night???

[gabessquishytum]

King Robert tends to sneak out of the castle a lot. His advisors and guards despair, trying to impress upon him the danger of the monarch just wandering around villages. They argue even beloved monarchs have enemies who might seek to hurt him while he's dallying about, outside the safety of the palace and his armed guards. The King nods and smiles......and continues to sneak out.

Hob, please don't call him "king" or "Robert," loves getting out of the castle! It's not like regular people really know what a king looks like, even if it's their monarch. When he's out Hob is amazed by his people.

Hob has helped raise a barn, brought in crops, been taught to knit by sweet old ladies, celebrated one of the pagan-ier holidays in a village square (the mead and food were fantastic), got into numerous sword fights to defend the honor of young ladies and men..... It's fantastic and real, and Hob would argue it makes him a better king.

Yes, Hob is aware that his various counselors (and his mom the Dowager Queen) want him to get married and stop venturing out, but all the stuck up potential consorts or soooo stuffy and entitled. Hob does think any of them have helped dig a well for a town that needed water or helped celebrate the birth of a new baby in a village pub!

Besides, there might be this beautiful new artist in town, Dream, who rents a room over the inn and takes simple commissions, who is so lovely. Hob is working so hard to be charming and learn more about him,,,but Dream is tight lipped as to where he's from. Still Hob knows he's wearing him down.....Hob got a small smile from his targeted buffoonery last time!

👑🤴🏽👑🤴🏽

Since they won't stop, Hob has decided he's going to see if he can convince Dream to marry him! Marrying him has to be better than those self serious "royals". But when he goes to see him, Dream is gone,, like he was never there. Hob is heartbroken.

He guesses he's meant to marry one of the snobs. He lets his council choose. They decide to accept the Endless Kingdom's offer - Prince Morpheus.

This is the romcom we ABSOLUTELY deserve with these two beloved idiots <3

Hob is disconsolate after Dream leaves - he doesn't even have the heart to sneak out of the castle. The villagers are quite worried about him until he finally turns up one evening, basically to say goodbye to all his friends. He explains that a spouse has finally been chosen for him, and that as a married man it will be inappropriate to go out gallivanting and putting himself in potential danger. He will have a duty to spend time with his new husband, too. And his friends all understand - they accept his heartfelt invitations to the wedding. He's brought gifts from the castle for all the kids who've basically adopted him as a big brother. And he definitely sheds a few tears in the arms of the old ladies before he leaves.

Meanwhile, Prince Morpheus is en route to his new spouse's kingdom. He doesn't want this marriage at all, but after he ran away (and then got caught and dragged back home) his parents forced him to accept to situation. They won't even tell him where he's going or who he's marrying - a punishment for his disgraceful behaviour! Dream is fully expecting to be married to some awful old man. But when he gets out of the carriage he finds himself in a rather familiar place... he almost laughs out loud! He quickly has to pretend to be heartbroken over the impending marriage, when he really he's nearly vibrating with excitement.

They don't meet until they get to the altar (it's tradition, for royal marriages). Hob’s eyes light up and he looks over towards where his village friends are sitting like "are you seeing this??? it’s dream!!!" Everyone else is quite confused about why King Robert suddenly looks so happy, but his friends are able to heartily applaud the marriage. He truly deserves to be happy!

As for Morpheus - or Dream, as he prefers to be called - with the wedding officially performed, he can throw himself into Hob’s arms. His parents are pissed off to see their wayward son looking so content, but Dream no longer cares. The fates have been kind to him, and delivered him into the arms of the only man he has ever wished to marry. He can't wait to spend many years sneaking out of the castle with Hob, getting up to all kinds of mischief, and finally enjoying life.