Nice day for a white wedding

[morphs]

The Marriage Consummation Meme a smut meme

The wedding bells have rung - or the correct sacrifices have been made, depending on your culture. Whatever the case may be, you're married now, and the night is yours. However, there is one expectation on you: it's time to consummate the marriage. Whether you're in love, in this marriage because it was arranged, or absolutely in hate with your new spouse, you're with them now. Have you two been intimate before this, or is your first time...with them or first time period? Do you know what you want and are you full of lust, or do you have no clue what's going on? Maybe you even have to seduce your partner who wants nothing to do with this! ...or, most forbidden of all, you're not the one getting married to this person. You just have to be with them on their wedding night, because you want them no matter what! Comment with your character and include your preferences. Comment to others. Thread out wedding night smut and shipping.

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Mary Crawley | Downton Abbey | M/F

[thequitecontrary]

Sabazel | OC | ota

[waytowar]

[handsofahealer]

I've found a use for you. His father's voice was cool as it always had been, though the cant of his mouth had been less sharp. Eiridan saw the shadows of his own features pushing through the other man's face and his belly churned in disgust.

Then I have to be part of the line. His bright eyes glittered, hard, angry.

It was so quick, easy even after all the bitterness and resentment. Just a couple of witnesses and the scratch of a quill against parchment. Coventus, now.

His wife to be, his father informed him, was the daughter (and lieutenant) of the leader of confederation of steppe tribes to the west. So some barbarian queen, but likely she'd just want to ride her horses and bathe in blood and leave him mostly to his own devices.

The perfect wife in other words.

They hadn't met until the ceremony itself. Eiridan was surprised to see that he had an actual inch on her. He had thought she'd be some kind of towering giant. But instead she was small, lean and wiry, her rolling bowlegged gait revealing a life spent in the saddle. An elaborate headdress framed her wide-cheek boned face, her dark eyes startlingly intense.

The ceremony happened without a hitch, and then with nothing to hold them back, both halves of their now joined families proceeded to drink their way into a stupor.

Eiridan was generous with the wine, siting next to his wife, half watching her, with his gaze wandering at times to Sabazel's contingent, idly curious. He leaned back, and drank deep, watching over the rim of his cup as one of the many riders that Sabazel had brought with her yanked at a one of the serving girls, trying to pull her into his lap.

[waytowar]

Some skilled servant had found a way to beautify her hawkish and severe features, outlining her eyes with khol and smearing clay-based cosmetics along her eyelids in rich russets to highlight her bronzy skin. But all on her own, beneath the bronze and gold and flashing jewels in her hair, beneath the brocaded silks and the wide, tooled belt, she wasn't unhandsome.

She laughed brassily and boldly with her men, and they retreated often into their own tongue to pur assessments of the foreigners to each other. Insults, often, based on the catlike cruelty of their laughter, and she leered at her delicate-featured husband the way any towering, self-indulgent and egocentric man would. Coiled a length of his golden hair around her bronze fingers just to lean predatorially close, and kiss him soundly, biting his lower lip and humming with relish.

"You're staring," she informed him later, while they sat at the head of the tent, and poured more wine into the shallow dish of his goblet. She tossed her head back, swallowing the contents of her cup all in one go, and hissed a satisfied sigh, pouring more for herself.

Even the servants were ornamented for the wedding, and her men, all bearded, brutish fellows with oiled curls and flashing earrings and hungry eyes.

[handsofahealer]

It was...strange. Familiar in a way, the cant of her mouth, the glitter in her eyes, the casual possessiveness as her fingers wound in his hair.

Perhaps, it will be easier than I thought it would be.

As she drank deep, so did he, eyes flicking to one of her men, watching the flicking light of candle and flame catching the golden necklace looped around his throat, a ruby the size of a pigeon's egg resting against his tanned, ruddy skin.

"Mmm?" He asked, half distracted, half drunk.

[waytowar]

"I said you're staring," she hissed, and slapped his thigh. "Everyone can see you, whore, at least fuck him with your eyes the day after the wedding."

She rolled her eyes so hard they hurt, drinking again, pouring again, lifting her other hand to make a commanding motion to the musicians, who frantically changed the tempo of their song.

[handsofahealer]

Eiridan jerked at the slap, her hand hard and calloused, and his eyes cut over to hers, sudden and sharp. He tensed, his hands clenched for a moment around the stem of his goblet.

But that was...all she said. There were no histrionics, no flounces, nothing. Also she actually noticed, which was more than most of the empty headed ladies had done after he had fucked their husbands.

He relaxed, fractionally. "My eyes are my own tomorrow?" He laughed, "But yours tonight?"

[waytowar]

She smiled slyly, eyes slipping from Eiridan to her men, and she covered her mouth with her goblet so that it couldn't be seen.

"If your eyes are too longing tonight, I'll never hear the end of it. I'd be honor-bound to refuse being married to a slut before we were consumated, you know? All my men will mark it."

"But tomorrow? Wellll, that's more forgivable, and the deed was done. I'm only half a fool, and not a whole one."

[handsofahealer]

"I'm a slut for looking? Your people are even more severe than mine." Eiridan, mouth twisted, his bright eyes sardonic. "But, fine, fine, is this better?" He turned, pale lashes slung low over his eyes, and peered at her, lips barely parted.

"Better?" His gaze didn't shift, but the corners of his mouth quirked up.

Asra | The Arcana | Ota

[mastermagician]

[whatsina_name]

It was kind of a whirlwind engagement, all things considered- something something political alliance between their families after a war, which frankly is quite the turn around. Phillip, being himself, was immediately resentful and suspicious of this arrangement, mostly because of what it meant for his freedom, but... after about ten minutes with Asra he really couldn't bring himself to even try to take it out on the other man. Still kind of mad at his parents, though.

But it's far too late to object, and they're alone in his-- their-- room after the ceremony and the following celebrations are over. He sits on the bed, looking over at Asra with a small smile and a hint of red on his cheeks. He's... really beautiful, both outwardly and as a person. If he had to be forced into a marriage, it certainly could have been a lot worse.

"I guess... that all happened," he says, a little sheepish. It was pretty overwhelming.

[mastermagician]

"Oh, it was so beautiful!"

Asra floated toward Phillip pressing both hands to his heart, trembling, wondering if it was all a dream, and hoping dearly that it was anything but. He was flushed with feeling and wine, and as he drifted closer, touched his fingertips to Phillip's shoulders. His hair had been oiled and combed back, set with a net of gold chains and pearls, which matched the whites and golds of his sweeping robes.

"And you were beautiful, I... I know it means so little, in the face of all this, but I'm so happy that it was you! And I'll do my best, everything I can, to make you happy, too. I promise."

[whatsina_name]

Phillip flushes a little deeper as he looks up at Asra, taking in every inch of him for the millionth time that evening before he shrugs off the jacket of his suited, leaving him in the (tight) well tailored dress pants and slightly unbuttoned shirt. He feels kind of naked without all of his accessories, but at least he's got a number of earrings still in that make him feel more like himself.

He reaches up to catch one of Asra's hands. "You're... always beautiful," he says quietly, cheeks burning even though he means it, "And I will too. I want... I'd like us to be happy together." Whatever that means for them, but he hopes it does mean them.

[mastermagician]

Asra slipped their fingers together to twine, and lifted Phillip's hand up to him while he leaned. Kissed the backs of Phillip's fingers, just above where the ring lay.

And then leaned in to sit beside him, cheek against his husband's shoulder, both hands around Phillip's in his lap.

"What... what makes you happy? What can I do that you... ah... that would make your days more lovely?"

[whatsina_name]

Phillip takes the hand Asra isn't holding and slides it around the other man's waist, holding him close while he gently tips his cheek to press against Asra's head.

"You being there does that pretty well." He feels like such a ridiculous romantic, saying that, but... he kind of is one. And it's true. There's just something about Asra that makes him feel a little more at ease, like he doesn't need to watch his back quite so much. "...What can I do for you?" They haven't know each other all that long, in the grand scheme of things, so maybe this is the wrong time to ask. Or maybe it's the perfect time.

[terraria]

[ It wasn't really a fancy affair. Despite the jewels that nobles liked to adorn around his neck and the fancy ornaments they gave him for his time, Aspen wasn't one to be materialistic. A passionate kiss in the forest, their hands intertwined, bound together by vines and petals pulsing with magic - that was really all Aspen needed. It wasn't as if he had family, after all.

Thankfully, all those jewels and gold amounted to a comfortable little inn room, Aspen pulling his braid over his shoulder as he started to undo his thick hair from its plait. He finds a few flowers in them and chuckles to himself, waiting for Asra to come out from the bathroom. As much as it would be nice to share the tub together on a day like this, the sunset painting their room in a wash of golden-oranges and reds, it wasn't as if they could both fit. A big room (and a feather-soft bed) made for a small bathing chamber, unfortunately.

He raises his eyes when he hears a creak of the door, smiling with a quirk of his brow. ]

Have you thought of where to go next?

[ He reaches for his bag, not bothering to look back at Asra as he goes to start brushing his hair - now wavy, like the water lapping the shore. It's quiet, idle talk: so obviously routine and unneeded that it's a clear sign of his nerves. ]

asano keigo | BLEACH | ota

[loudmouths]

[juugo]

That stupid bastard.

Despite Yhwach's defeat and Aizen's resumed imprisonment, Soul Society had proven to be far from finished with their current substitute shinigami. Their latest crisis, perhaps predictably, had not only pulled Ichigo away for weeks on end, but it had dominated much of his focus for months, to the point that he found himself offering a fresh round of apologies when he'd finally returned. That he had finally caught up to Tatsuki last was yet another detail worthy of cursing.

It was Tatsuki that had finally told him what everyone else had avoided: that Keigo was getting married. Had gotten married. Had left that very day for his honeymoon. It was Tatsuki that told him, as Ichigo stared on in stunned silence, that the stupid bastard had even sent Ichigo an invitation, one that was no doubt sitting in a pile on his desk in his room. It was Tatsuki that yelled after Ichigo, even as he'd started running before he knew where he was running to, what hotel Keigo and his new spouse were staying at.

Unable to think clearly, Ichigo wasn't sure how exactly he'd ended up at the hotel, or how he'd mustered the patience to find the room Keigo was in, to wait until the stupid bastard was alone -- something about going out to arrange some surprise or other. But the moment he was certain he'd have a minute alone, Ichigo was pounding on the door.

Still dressed in the same everyday clothes he'd worn to catch up with his friends, and glaring murder at the door, he wasn't likely a pleasant sight to spy on one's honeymoon. Frankly, any plan or intention beyond finding that stupid bastard hadn't even materialized as of yet.

And to be fair, Keigo couldn't know. He couldn't possibly have the slightest clue about the feelings Ichigo harbored, but had spent years trying to ignore. He couldn't possibly have known. So this ugly anger, this possessiveness that constricted in Ichigo's chest? It wasn't fair. He had no right. But he wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't thinking about anything besides his own hurt, his own jealous need.

[loudmouths]

Keigo hasn't always been forthright with his feelings, for as emotional a person he could be. Some things were just better left unsaid, especially when it came to things as unsteady as his relationship with Ichigo. It was too complicated to approach directly and Keigo never really knew what to say in regards to his own feelings. What little hints he did drop over the years seemed to be largely disregarded or not picked up upon, leaving him to assume that it was a venture not worth pursuing for the sake of his own feelings.

So he tried to move past them. Ichigo was still a dear friend to him, and he knew he'd never truly get over how he felt for him, but he also knew it would be too painful holding onto a hope for something more. He had started dating his now-wife at some point in between the last time Ichigo had been whisked away yet again, and their relationship had developed quickly. He loved her; she seemed to care deeply enough for him, especially when she readily accepted his proposal. Keigo was fully prepared to move on with her in his life and close the chapter on his unrequited feelings for his best friend.

Until he appeared at his hotel room.

Keigo felt the pulse of reiatsu before Ichigo knocked at the door, and with it came a sorrowful nostalgia of the excitement every time he felt his presence. He wanted to ignore it, to pretend he suddenly couldn't feel the aura of Ichigo's soul, but his old habits overtook. In this case, he was assuming that Ichigo was coming to apologize, again. Apologize for not showing up to the parties, the ceremony, not even sending a congratulatory text message or email.

So when he approached the door and opened it, Ichigo wouldn't be greeted by the usual excited smile or outburst of happiness that Keigo was known for. Instead, Ichigo would see Keigo, still in his tuxedo, looking fairly unimpressed.

"Nice of you to show up finally. You're a bit late. Show's over."

[juugo]

In all honesty, Ichigo had no grounds to be angry. He hadn't ever communicated any sort of interest toward Keigo. The few occasions he'd even considered pursuing something more than friendship he'd swiftly reminded himself that Keigo would be better off free of his bullshit. He'd thought he'd been resolved to that fact, and yet here he was, out of place in this fancy hotel, glaring at his best friend on his goddamn wedding night.

It grated at him. It grated at him such that Ichigo didn't hear the words Keigo was saying to him, didn't register his friends abnormally subdued response to his presence. He didn't even realize that he was standing in the hallway of a hotel, that someone could come around the corner at any minute, or that he had no idea when Keigo's new wife would return.

Without forethought or consideration, he moved. He lurched forward, crashing mouth first into Keigo with bruising intensity. His hands came up immediately after, clutching Keigo's jawline more than simply framing it. Pushing forward into Keigo's space, into his body, Ichigo's demanding tongue pressed against the seam of the other boy's lips. Insistently, he kissed Keigo breathless, his hands only dropping from Keigo's face to clutch the lapels of his tuxedo, to pull the other man's narrow chest against his.

Ichigo didn't dare think about what would happen next, how Keigo would shove him off, or how he would explain the sudden outpouring of his bottle feelings. He didn't dare think about anything beyond the taste of champagne and frosting on Keigo's mouth, or the scent of him.

nishikiyama akira | yakuza | ota

[unwise]

[ 0 or kiwami versions available! let's au. 👀 ]

/eyes

[obsidien]

[Sidurgu hates this arrangement. Hates his new "partner" even if this is the first time he's properly laid eyes on the man. Hates this get-up, this bloody suit that he's ripped the tie off of, he's had to wear. Hates this godsdamned bloody room and all its trimmings.

Hates everything about this situation.

(He misses his blade, his usual table with his ridiculous friends by his side.)

He's parked himself against one of the walls, arms crossed over his chest, one knee bent and crossed over the other. Nishikiyama is going to have hell of a time trying to get this to work if he wants to finish this part of their arranged marriage.]

Blinding godsdamned suite-- who thought this was a good idea? [Why are these people so disgustingly ostentatious? Like they rub their pricks with money.]

Nico Acosta | OC | M/F

[anoranza]

Evie Montgomery | OC | F/M

[la_bonne_chose]

keeler ⋆ starfighter ⋆ m/m

[enckegap]