#permanent contraception

[tubal-facts]

Update 22 April 2024 -- Backup of the Childfree-Friendly Doctors List

Here's our backup of the list of childfree-friendly doctors.

https://doctors.tubalfacts.com

Pages: 8 Characters: 1,728,234 Headings: 130

Estimated Number of Doctors

US

All Doctors: 2,168

Gynecologists: 1,798

Urologists: 370

International

All Doctors: 161

Gynecologists: 114

Urologists: 47

Canada

All Doctors: 136

Gynecologists: 103

Urologists: 33

[ptlsalp]

Can I still get my tubes removed if I already had my tubes tied?

Yes, but insurance coverage might be an obstacle. Here's how I figured it out:

[thecurvyprince]

It's so ridiculous being transgender as an adult. You'll have spent your entire life being conditioned (even by your own self) to believe that so many things just aren't options for you. You deeply internalize the "knowledge" that it would be impossible to be who you want to be and have the body you want to have.

So then you might find yourself in situations where you sheepishly ask a doctor who specializes in trans healthcare if you can have the minimal of help, just enough to keep surviving, because you know that if you asked for what you want, that the answer would be "no" (it has always been "no"). And then are surprised by your own excitement when the very thing you secretly wanted is offered to you with full sincerity as a very real option and with absolute intent to follow it through with you.

As though the whole time you were keeping it as this buried secret, this personal ache of want. But you never actually allowed yourself to consider it anything more than a dream. So when it becomes real and you can finally conceptualize it as a real choice, only then are you able to feel just how badly you wanted it the whole time.

Does that make sense?? It couldn't be real and even though you're desperate for it because you're not sure you can survive without it for much longer, you still don't allow yourself to consider how deeply you WANT it. You never know just how excited you'd be about it. You expected for so long to have to settle for less and never considered that you'd have the choice.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Prewar!Cooper Howard has a breeding kink because he loves being a dad. He and Barb married and started trying for kids later in life than most folks around them, so much of the sex they had, especially early on, was focused on getting Barb pregnant. If he'd had his way, they would have had a whole litter of children, but hey, sometimes life doesn't work out the way you want. Still, there's the fun of trying, and there was a lot of trying. After the divorce, he's shocked when he meets someone else, and even more shocked when he feels those same urges with you. He's been trained to try and knock one in basically every time, he jokes.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

He's also incredibly possessive, and it drives him wild to think about getting to see you all swollen and filled out with his child. Particularly with you being younger that him; the ugly part of his brain is barking at him to stake a more permanent claim on you every time a guy your age so much as looks your way. Personally, he thinks he's too old to have more kids, but between his secret urges, your forgetfulness when it comes to your pill, and your twin high sex drives, well...sometimes accidents happen.

He'd be over the moon, once he knew you were happy as well (he would also worry about the news potentially being hurtful to Barb, but that'd be an issue for tomorrow). Showing you off in public, knowing that other people see how gorgeous you are and know you fully belong to him, it really gets him going, and you certainly take notice of how amorous he is when you're out together (combined with how vigorously he fucks you when you get home). Thinks you're insanely sexy pregnant and likes to watch you ride him with a big belly. You'd both better be a lot more careful about your contraception after the first baby if you don't want another, because getting to see you that way only makes his kink worse.

The Ghoul has a breeding kink because he's incredibly possessive. It's been literal centuries since he's come across anything in this world that he cares for enough to want to claim it, and you're officially claimed. He wants everyone, including you, to know that you belong to him and only him. Other ghouls can smell him on you much more strongly if he cums inside you, and he enjoys the way filling you full scratches his most primal itch. It's just an added benefit that he's almost positive he can't actually get you pregnant, but...there are records of ghouls reproducing with other ghouls. Haven't stranger things happened?

The little thrill he gets at the idea is just nature trying to take over.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

You'd be hard-up to get him to admit it, but he wants you to need him. He wants an excuse to baby you and pamper you and force you to let him do things for you without the vulnerability of admitting that he wants to do those things for you anyway because he's deeply in love with you.

You complain that your feet hurt during your journey for the day? He'll carry you everywhere you want to go from now until the end of time, if that's what you want. Stomach and appetite troubles? Name whatever you want, he'll find it for you, no matter how many caps he has to pay. Tired? "Of course you're tired, sweetheart. Let's stop for today. Here, sit down. Do you need some water? Eat this, you need some calories. Let me rub your legs and feet for you." It is endless and sort of surreal for you to adjust to.

Speaking of journeys, I think he also secretly wants to settle down a bit. He does already after he meets and falls for you, seeing how much the constant trekking back and forth across the irradiated desert takes out of you, and he definitely would want to do so expeditiously if you were pregnant. It's not like secure places don't exist in this world. He can keep you, and anyone else who may come along, safe just fine.

He'd be afraid to fuck you if you were pregnant, worried that he'll hurt you or make you sick or make something bad happen with the pregnancy. But if you reassure him, maybe beg a little, he'll do his best to make sure your urges are satisfied. Sit on his face and let him slide his tongue through your insanely sensitive folds, lie back and let him fuck you with those agile fingers while he jerks himself off. You'll miss being properly penetrated, badly, but you won't go without.

He wants an excuse to be even more protective of you than usual. Give him a reason to literally pluck men's eyes out for daring to so much as look at you, a reason to never let you out of his sight ever again. If you thought he was ready to commit violence to keep you safe before, you haven't seen anything yet.

I can't imagine it would be easy to have a big family in the Wasteland, but reminding him how much he loves being a dad would certainly have the thought on his mind.

[love-fictional-ppl]

Bf!James Headcanons

Summary: sfw + nsfw headcanons for bf!james

Pairings: James Potter x gryffindor!fem!reader, platonic!marauders x fem!reader, platonic!lily evans x fem!reader

Warnings: language, James is a simp, nsfw stuff duh, underage drinking, switch!james, boobjobs, mention of pegging, cum (idk i think im js kinda fascinated by cum), oral(male and female receiving), breeding, slight choking, contraceptives, way more I just don’t feel like listing.

A/N: characters are set in their 7th year.

SFW:

First off, we all know this man is a simp for his girl. Like he is down bad.

This man will go and buy you candy from Honeydukes, he will buy you all sorts of stuffed animals, you name it.

Give him homemade gifts! He loves it! Collages, bracelets, small gift baskets, flowers and flower crowns

James absolutely loves when you have a shared class with him, the way you walk hand in hand to the class and sit a seat away from him. He constantly is passing notes back and forth with you and getting in trouble for it, but he doesn’t care one bit.

Sirius loves to tease James for how “pussy whipped” he is. James can’t even deny it.

Permanent puppy dog eyes when he looks at you.

Surprisingly good at gossiping with.

You steal his clothes and he is perfectly fine with it, in fact he prefers it. Sometimes he’ll even bring you a random piece of his clothing bc he wants you to wear it.

You were James’ date to the Yule ball. Sirius spiked the punch. Remus was a victim of the punch.

Oh god. One time the marauders went out to the shrieking shack and got super drunk, James wouldn’t stop whining for you. When the boys came back they sent Lily to fetch you. You got stuck sitting with one very intoxicated James Potter in the common room, you both wound up falling asleep on one of the sofas. The next morning you were woken up by James running to throw up.

Loves to take you on picnics next to the Black Lake. This boy can’t help spoiling you.

He just sneaks in the kitchens and the house elves give him all the food for your dates.

James’ parents adore you, their house is practically your second home.

You come to every quidditch game, you wear one of his scarves and wear as much gryffindor clothing as you can.

You scream James’ name and cheer for him, you give him a kiss after each game and you give him a little more than kiss when they win.

Play with his hair. He will start purring.

He smells like grass, sandalwood, cigarettes from sitting next to Sirius and aftershave

Will use your lotion, perfume, lipgloss, chapstick, boy don’t care.

NSFW:

Oh my lord. James is in love with your body. He wants to touch every part of you all the time.

mating press, full Nelson, cowgirl, missionary are his favorite positions. And let me tell you, he knows how to hit.

Boob jobs. He’s obsessed with them, he loves to make it messy by cumming all over your face and tits.

Ultimately James is a sub leaning switch. He’ll fuck you just how you want tho don’t worry.

James loves trying new things. He will come to you with porno magz he snatched from Sirius asking you timidly if you want to do that stuff.

He has the highest sex tolerance ever. James’ always hard and always needs to go, he can fuck 3-4 rounds b4 he’s down.

Peg him.

He’s so loud when he’s subbing. James will moan and whine and babble at you. When he’s in charge tho… he’ll dirty talk and groan and grunt, occasionally a whimper.

He loves to cum on you, on your face, tits, ass, thighs, pussy. He wants to see you drenched in it. He loves how messy and gross you look after.

James loves to cum inside of you also, he has a massive breeding kink. He will keep pumping you with his loads, so make sure to tell him to stop and learn sum morning after spells.

Prefers giving head over receiving. Don’t get me wrong, he loves blowjobs but he loves the taste of your pussy a tad bit more. James eats like a god too. He will overstimulate you just so he can slurp up your juices.

The blowjobs are great in their own way, the soft warmth of your mouth, how expertly you work his cock, oh and the gag reflex that drives him crazy. He almost busts on the spot.

He loves to fuck you in the showers after his games, his way of blowing off steam. After a particularly hard game, his hand may snake around your throat causing your vision to blur and you to lose your breath.

Getting handled by James is the definition of getting manhandled like a rag doll. He forgets his own strength.

He hates condoms, would rather pull out or some other contraceptive.

Baby is definitely a pervert and steals your panties, you know but just don’t care since he always returns them. He takes them to sniff and lick sometimes James wraps them around his cock and masturbates to the thought of your tight little cunt.

He is a fan of degradation and praise, giving and receiving.

Mommy kink. He will suck on your tits too, if you could produce milk, he would love it. Just wants you to baby him.

He has really sensitive nipples, do what you want with this info.

Good with after care, he’ll clean himself up then grab washcloth and wipe you down, afterwards lying down, cuddling you and thanking you.

Not proofread! I was bored ash so do what u want with this😭 ngl I kinda wanna write a stepdad!james fic next

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Thinking about Astarion having to deal with his reclaimed mortality once the initial euphoria of it is wearing off: 

When he’s startled from sleep, woken by his own racing heartbeat. 

Him jumping at the movement in the corner of his eye, only to find it’s just his own reflection staring right back at him, puzzled, before he watches his cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

The sun slowly losing its appeal as time goes on because Astarion keeps getting nasty sunburns after days spent outside, trying to make up for centuries confined to darkness. Whenever he comes home with itching skin and drenched in sweat, he finds himself almost missing hiding in the shadows. 

The odd sensation of feeling more and less at the same time: while some of his senses are now dulled to better suit mortality, others feel heightened to the point of sensory overload—a gust of wind feels like fire licking at his skin and he gets so very anxious whenever he loses Tav in the crowd, unable to distinguish them by the once divine scent of their blood any longer. 

Since he has a reliant supply of his own blood pumping through his veins now, he’s feeling aroused so much easier and more often than not at quite inconvenient times. He enjoyed having sex with Tav before, but now that he’s mortal again, he finds that he’s having to overthink intimacy once again—where his desires used to be driven by burning hunger, lust now feels like a pleasant, more natural bodily reaction. Having to seriously consider contraceptive measures, should his partner be able to get pregnant, is also a rather novel experience for him.  

Bathing still feels as good as before, at least. But where he spent hours in the bathroom out of pointless vanity then, Astarion now has to wash himself because his body would stink of sweat and, well, life otherwise. It will be years before he openly excuses himself for having to use the bathroom whenever nature calls.

And food—food would be the hardest to adjust to. It takes a lot of trial and error to find something that pleases his virgin taste buds (although he swears there’re some odd pieces of memories flashing in front of his eyes whenever he's snacking on wild strawberries or awfully sweet citron tarts). He ends up acquiring a taste for raw cookie dough, shredded cheese and sardines, eating little else for the next two years or so. To everyone's astonishment, he's gotten food poisoning only once or twice.

Astarion is no stranger to pain or injury, but he’s appalled by how long it takes to recover from the most minor cuts and bruises. It’s a well-kept secret between him and Tav that his first common cold had him convinced he was dying for a fortnight straight. 

Crying is much easier now, too.

Ironically, it’s mortality that forces Astarion to strive for more permanent, detail-oriented plans for the future. Now that life is finite, he wants to use the time he has wisely. He might keep travelling the realms until he breathes his last, or settle down, eventually. He might learn a new profession or accumulate some wealth in less honest ways. Maybe, one day, he wants to have a family, heirs to whatever he decides to make his own. 

Once Astarion has come to terms with being a mortal elf again, he realises living is not just about a beating heart. Living is about having endless possibilities but limited time. Choices and decisions that lead to only one thing: death. 

Now that Astarion is living again, he finally understands that death is just another part of the journey.

[tamayula-hl]

I have illustrated many Dad!Ominis, but as I have not yet published my headcanon on DadOmi, I would like to explain it in drawing and text because I am not good at English😳

In my headcanon, Ominis discussed this with his girlfriend, MC, while he was still at school, and they chose to drop the Gaunt name and elope together. The pair jumped ship on a steamer to the USA soon after graduation. As you know, the Gaunt family has ties to the USA, as the mother of the founder of the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the USA was born a Gaunt, and there is a Slytherin wand buried in the garden of that school.

(This is an illustration of that scene that I posted on Twitter in May, but there are lots of things I want to correct 😂)

They then started a new life together in the USA, where Ominis was lucky enough to get a job as an employee at MACUSA, which had just moved to New York and was short-staffed. (I have no idea of the details of how Ominis, under a pseudonym that presumably hides his Gaunt family origins, was hired as a permanent employee, and whether his obvious posh English could hide his identity in the US. Never mind the details!🤣)

And secondly, how Ominis became a father in the place where he eloped. In my personal opinion, he would surely be reluctant to leave offspring, even if he became a couple with the woman he loved. A witch named Rionach Steward, daughter of the founder of Ilvermorny School, has become so thick with Gaunt blood that she is rumoured to be a Parselmouth. She remained celibate for the rest of her life in order not to leave her cursed blood to future generations. Ominis is very serious and thoughtful and, like Rionach, would not want to leave the Gaunt blood flowing in his body to future generations.

Where Rionach and Ominis differ, however, is that he is a man. If Ominis were heterosexual and had a healthy body, it would be difficult for him to completely abstain from sexual desire for women. (As an aside, I think this dichotomy is the spice that makes Ominis' smut more attractive.)

Two young, loving people who are financially strapped and starved for entertainment are sure to indulge their carnal desires. Soon, they find out that MC is pregnant.

In other words, in my headcanon, ominis become fathers for the pathetic reason of contraceptive failure. I guess there are two sides to this, but of course I am convinced that Ominis is not the kind of irresponsible man who would run away from an unwanted pregnancy. Ominis will be very bewildered, but he will be cheerful in front of his pregnant wife and will support her with dedication, as in the manga and illustrations I posted the other day! During MC's pregnancy, Ominis will be repeatedly struck with anxiety, but as he sees his wife's belly growing bigger day by day, he will gradually develop paternal feelings for her. And after the birth of his first child, when he holds his baby for the first time, Ominis will be moved by the preciousness of the creature in his arms and the weight of life, and he will awaken as the best dad…!

I hope that Ominis, who became a father after unexpected events in his elopement, lives happily ever after, chewing on how precious a healthy family is😍.

Of course, it's all my headcanon, so I like different people's different ideas about Ominis' future! Anyway, I am happy as long as I see Ominis living a long and happy life..!

Thank you for reading my long story 🫶🫶🫶

A Japanese translation of the text is placed in undercut. (ほぼTwitterで書き散らかしていた妄想をまとめたものです。画像内の文章を和訳する元気はありませんでしたすみません…😂)

（機械翻訳にブチ込む用に書いた文章なので、ちょっと変ですがご容赦ください🙏）

私の脳内設定（headcanon）では、オミニスは在学中にガールフレンドであるMCと話し合って、Gauntの名を捨て、二人で駆け落ちすることを選びました。 二人は卒業してすぐにアメリカ行きの蒸気船に飛び乗りました。

その後二人はアメリカで新生活を始め、ニューヨークに移転したばかりで人手不足のMACUSAでオミニスは運良く職員としての仕事を手に入れました。 （おそらくGaunt家出身であることを隠している偽名のオミニスがどのように正社員として採用されたか、また、明らかなposh Englishを話す彼がアメリカで素性を隠しきれるかどうかについては、私は細かいことは全く考えていません。こまけえこたぁいいんだよ！）

ご存知の通り、アメリカのIlvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardryの創始者の母はゴーント家の生まれで、その学校の庭にはスリザリンの杖が埋まっているなど、Gaunt家とアメリカには縁があります

そして次に、駆け落ち先でオミニスがどのようにして父親になっていったかです。 私の個人的な意見ですが、彼はきっと愛する女性と夫婦になっても、子孫を残すことを嫌がるでしょう。 Ilvermorny Schoolの創設者の娘のRionach Stewardという魔女はParselmouthという噂があるほどGauntの血を濃く継いでしまいました。彼女は呪われた血を後世に残さないために生涯独身を貫いた。 オミニスはとても真面目で思慮深い性格なので、Rionachと同じように、彼の身体の中に流れるGauntの血を後世に残したくないと思うでしょう。

しかしRionachとオミニスが違うところは、彼が男性ということです。 Ominisが異性愛者で健康的な身体を持っていれば、女性に対する性欲を完全に断つというのは困難でしょう。 （余談ですが、この二律背反こそ、オミニスのsmutをより魅力的にさせるスパイスだと私は思います）

金銭的な余裕もなく娯楽に飢えた、若い愛し合う二人は、きっと肉欲に溺れるはずです。 そして間もなく、MCの妊娠が判明するのです。

つまり私のheadcanonでは、オミニスは避妊失敗という情けない理由で父親になります。 これについては賛否両論かと思いますが、もちろん、オミニスは望まぬ妊娠から逃げ出すような無責任な男ではないと私は確信しています。 オミニスは非常に困惑しながらも、妊娠中の妻の前では明るく振舞い、先日投稿したmangaやイラストのように献身的に彼女をサポートするでしょう！ MCの妊娠期間中、オミニスは何度も不安に襲われるでしょうが、日に日に大きくなる妻のお腹を見ていくうちに少しずつ父性が芽生える。 そして第一子が誕生後、初めて赤ちゃんを抱いた時に、オミニスは腕の中にある生き物の尊さと命の重みに感動し、最高のパパとして覚醒するのです…！！

駆け落ち先の予想外の出来事から父親になったOminisが、健全な家族がどれほど尊いものかを噛み締めて幸せに生きていてくれればと思います😍

もちろん、全て私のheadcanonなので、オミニスの将来については、色んな人の色んな考えも好きです！ とにかく私は、幸せに長生きしているオミニスが見れればそれで幸せなのです…！

長い文を読んでくれてありがとうございました🫶🫶🫶

[meret118]

More women are tying their tubes in light of abortion bans. But these surgeries may fail more than some realize

. . .

A new study published in NEJM Evidence suggests that tubal sterilization isn’t always guaranteed to prevent pregnancy 100 percent. In fact, it could be less effective than some other birth control options, like the hormonal arm implant or a hormonal intrauterine device. Researchers say this could change how people view tubal ligation as a so-called “permanent” contraception option, and how providers discuss birth control options post-Dobbs.

. . .

Ten years after the surgery, the estimated percentage of those who got pregnant was 8.4 percent.

-----

My mother almost bled out from a burst etopic pregnancy due to a failed tubal sterilization. Please read this if you're thinking about getting one.

[tubal-facts]

Update 22 August 2024 -- Backup of the Childfree-Friendly Doctors List

Here's our backup of the list of childfree-friendly doctors.

https://doctors.tubalfacts.com

Pages: 8 Characters: 1,840,443 Headings: 131

Estimated Number of Doctors

US

All Doctors: 2,262

Gynecologists: 1,886

Urologists: 376

International

All Doctors: 166

Gynecologists: 118

Urologists: 48

Canada

All Doctors: 139

Gynecologists: 106

Urologists: 33

[ptlsalp]

Can I still get a bilateral salpingectomy if I've already had a tubal ligation?

Yep. That's what I did.

[north-blue-hearts]

How does Law use his devil fruit powers as a contraceptive? Does he cut off his balls before cuming hard? 😋

Considering that having your heart removed doesn't kill you - specifically it doesn't stop the blood from flowing through your system, then I have to conclude that cutting off his balls wouldn't stop him from cumming.

I think, based on what we've seen of the fruit, that it would be likely he would cut the tip of his dick off. Just a small bit. Enough you could attach it to the pad of your finger and hold that little piece against your lips and when he cums inside your sweet throbbing cunt he instead fill your mouth, hot and thick sperm racing past your lips.

>.>

Or he attaches it to the end of his fingers and shoves them down your throat when he cums.

Imagine him praising you as he shoves his fingers down the back of your throat as he paints your sweet mouth white.

Alternatively, I can see him using scan and just shambling your egg, or his sperm, out of your vagina before anything definitive happens. (I'd also just let him permanently remove all that baby making equipment and then not have to worry about it all. )

[kwanisms]

Birthday Gifts — h.jisung

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ idol!Jisung × f!reader (feat. one kiss between the reader & Felix) wc: 1.5k summary: Meeting Felix really changed your whole world but with Felix came Jisung who could potentially ruin everything or make it better. It's a 50/50 chance you haven't been willing to take before. But maybe, just maybe, you can make an exception at their shared birthday party. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; party themes?? It's a house birthday party lol; idol au warnings: adult language, female reader, party setting, reader & Felix share a kiss one time but there's nothing going on between them, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! special tags: @anyamaris & @mint-yooxgi cause of told them about the dream that inspired this. also tagging @yoonguurt cause she's the bestie and always gets a tag 🍄꒰｡•◡•｡꒱🍄 join my taglists: permanent | group Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. 

a/n: this is based off a dream I had last night so Happy Birthday to Felix and Han. Yes, I'm posting this even tho I'm officially on hiatus so if you see this, shhh no you didn't. 🤫 thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (use condoms and other contraceptives pls), quickie (like it's super fast lmao sorry Ji), use of a singular pet name (baby), he cums inside her and that's about it. Very short and sweet lol

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

[21:04]

You knew it was wrong and that you should have told him to stop a long time ago but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to Jisung. Not at his birthday party. Granted, he was sharing the day with Felix but it was still his day, too.

“Fuck,” Jisung grunted from behind you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “C’mere,” he gasped, turning you back around to face him, taking your lips in a searing kiss.

That was how it had started. With a kiss.

“I want my birthday present,” Felix announced suddenly, causing you and everyone else to turn and look at him. The others were baffled but you knew exactly what he meant. He’d come up to you at the start of the party, one you had planned so meticulously, and pulled you aside.

You apologized for not getting him a present but he assured you that the party was more than enough but you were adamant. You still wanted to give him a gift. You promised anything he wanted within reason and a cheeky smile had spread across his face.

“Anything I want?” he asked in that deep voice. You nodded firmly.

Meeting Felix had been a happy accident with him running, quite literally, into you at an aquarium in the states when he was touring. He’d tripped over a bump in the carpet and went down, unfortunately taking you with him.

If he hadn’t been so engrossed in the conversation with Changbin and Hyunjin, he might not have tripped at all. A visit to the first aid station and several hundred apologies later, the two of you were thick as thieves, even combining groups to finish walking through the aquarium.

After exchanging contact details, Felix promised to keep in contact as often as he could while you learned everything you could about kpop and a group called Stray Kids.

As fate would have it, the company you worked for had an opportunity to expand its market into South Korea and you jumped at the chance to move to Seoul for the job. You settled into your apartment and job and called Felix as soon as you were able to spare some time and it was like you hadn’t been thousands of miles apart.

You met the rest of his members, befriending them all quite quickly. Through Felix, your friend group exploded and you were soon a regular member of the group. Felix had begged you to plan this party, enlisting the help of Jisung with whom you remained friendly with.

You always kept your distance from Jisung who attributed this to you being shy but in reality, you were so insanely attracted to him that you couldn’t trust yourself to be alone with him. You knew if he made even the slightest move on you, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself and would take whatever he offered you.

“Anything you want,” you promised, smiling as Felix leaned in to whisper in your ear. So when he announced he wanted his gift, looking right at you as everyone turned to face him, you already knew what he wanted.

At the mention of a gift, Jisung had perked up. It was his party too after all. “I want a present, too!” he pouted as a few heads turned in his direction, a couple guests snickering as you glanced at Felix. Your best friend smiled calmly. “You can ask her for one,” he replied. “But you can’t ask for the same gift.”

Jisung rolled his eyes at that but after you crossed the distance and grabbed Felix by the face, pulling him into a kiss, Jisung backpedaled so fast. “Wait, no. I changed my mind,” he croaked as you and Felix parted. “I want the same present.”

His comment earned him a soft smack upside the head from Chris while the rest of the guests chuckled lightheartedly, even Felix joining in. You laughed along with them but you knew deep down if Jisung really wanted something, he went for it.

Felix you could trust yourself to stop kissing. But Jisung? You knew if he kissed you, it would end the same way. With your pants around your ankles and his cock buried in you from behind.

So when he cornered you later after the cake had already been cut and served, pulling you out of the main room into one of the unoccupied bathrooms of the apartment, you knew you were doomed. Any sense you had, left the moment he shut the door, turning the lock.

“Jisung,” you said softly as he moved to stand in front of you. It was meant to be a warning but your voice was too shaky. Luckily, he didn’t notice. “Why can’t I have the same present as Felix?” he demanded. You shut your eyes tightly trying to push him out of your mind.

Just standing so close, he was invading your senses from the heat radiating from his body to the sound of his voice in your ears, drowning out every other sound to the smell of his cologne. You needed to leave this room and fast if you wanted any chance to salvage your strained relationship with him.

“Can we talk about this later?” you asked, trying to push past him for the door but he wasn’t having it. Instead he pinned you against the door. Your breath caught in your throat.

‘One.’

You looked up to meet his heated gaze.

“Why do you always avoid me?” ‘Two.’

“Can we not do this right now? This party is for both you and Felix,” you replied. “Let’s just enjoy the party, please.” Jisung shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Not until you answer me.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, placing your hand on his chest and pushing him away. Jisung accepted this and took a step back. “It’s because I know myself,” you started. “With Felix, I can control myself. I can kiss him easily and then stop.” Jisung said nothing as you continued.

“But with you…” you trailed off. “With you I know I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Realization dawned on Jisung’s face as you spoke.

“If I kissed you,” you added, meeting his gaze once more. “It would only end one way.”

Jisung closed the distance between you with one step. “And what way is that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Your words failed you as you looked into his eyes, a gaze so intense that it made heat rush to your core looking back at you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“With our pants around our ankles, me bent over that counter, and your cock buried inside me.” ‘Three.’

No sooner than the words had been said did Jisung have you pinned against the door, lips against yours in a rushed and messy kiss. It was soon after he had you pinned against the sink counter, your hands gripping the sides of the vanity as he rutted against you, allowing you to feel his hardening cock through your pants.

Which led to where you were currently.

He’d turned you to face him, lips moving against yours as his hands fumbled with your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them before pushing them down along with your panties as you did the same, hurriedly undressing his lower body.

“Up,” he commanded, helping you up onto the counter as he lowered his fingers to your waiting cunt, rubbing through your folds to find you were already pretty wet. Almost pathetically so. It was stupid the effect he had on you. Jisung wasted no time, spitting into his hand and rubbing it along his length before taking himself in his hand to line up with your aching core.

Without another word, he pushed into you, gliding much easier than you expected until he was bottomed out. You whined into his shoulder, clawing at his shirt to hold on for dear life as he started to pound into you mercilessly, hips rocking against yours. You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from making too much noise as the party continued on outside the bathroom.

“Ah shit, baby,” Jisung rasped in your ear as your walls clenched around him. “You gonna cum already?” he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek. You nodded, holding back whimpers and moans as you buried your face in his neck.

It was embarrassing how fast he was able to pull an orgasm out of you, your thighs squeezing around his waist as he helped you ride it out before chasing his own high and emptying his load into you with a shudder and a low groan which he muffled in your shoulder.

It was so quick it made your head spin and as you both came down from your highs and came back to the reality of the situation, Jisung couldn’t help but chuckle, prompting you to pull back and look at him.

“What’s so funny?” you huffed. Jisung shook his head before meeting your gaze.

“You were wrong,” he said simply. You stared at him incredulously.

‘Wrong?’

“How am I wrong?” you asked as he shook his hair out of his eyes.

“Well,” he started. “I didn’t bend you over the counter.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[shibaraki]

KINGDOM OF ASHES ┊TODOROKI TOUYA

synopsis: when you are suddenly uprooted from your life to enter an arranged marriage with Prince Touya you are unprepared for how greatly he defies your expectations, nor for how quickly you fall for him.

tags: FEM reader (referred to as ‘wife’ ‘daughter’ and 'lady’), royalty au; prince todoroki touya, arranged marriage, no quirks, historical setting, perceived unrequited love, fictional contraceptives, horseback riding, fluff, angst, protected vaginal sex, vaginal oral sex (reader receiving), dubcon, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, hurt/comfort, canonical child abuse, bathing together, outdoor sex, talk of not having children/preventing pregnancy

wc: 12k

The evening before your wedding is quite fitting. Dark clouds have blanketed the skyline and large drops of rain cascade lazily down the windows, accompanied by a cold draft that intrudes the confines of your quarters, wailing like a lost child. Arriving earlier in the year than anyone expected, the Todoroki kingdom was known for its unbearable summers, but what followed was always a season of rainfall that felt unending.

Prophetic, maybe.

In the morning that follows, you would be wed to Prince Touya Todoroki, the firstborn son of King Enji. Your union had been entirely arranged with between negligent fathers, a Lord with land that held valuable ore, and the King in need of a bride for his son.

Your knowledge of the prince was limited, but that was the same for both nobles and commoners. Prince Touya was something of a ghost to the peoples, a determined boy known for his frail body; he'd been born too early and suffered for it. For years it had been rumoured that King Enji had ordered him killed, his weakness a dark stain on the family name. Touya had not been seen publicly since he was 11 years of age.

Upon your arrival to the palace, you had been covered in a white shawl and quickly led by a servant to the large bedroom you currently reside in. They relayed strict orders for you to stay put until the morning, insisting that you were not to wander the grounds nor come into contact with anyone but the handmaidens assigned to you.

Where you could not see much, imprinted into your memory are the hallways leading to your bedroom, imposing and dull. Walls that tower drastically above your head, littered with tapestries and family portraits featuring only the youngest children. You’d scanned every single one, and none of them included the eldest son, your dearly betrothed, and each of the siblings had worn a permanently detached expression.

As your escort had been making the bed, you’d asked about the absence of your soon-to-be husband and pity had flitted across her face before being carefully masked. The blatant caution surrounding him had not comforted you in the slightest.

The wind picks up and your hair stands on end at the sharp drop in temperature, arms crossed over your chest in an attempt to keep the warm kindling. Sparing a glance at the clock sitting on the bedside table, you realise that the night has drawn closer while you were lost in thought. If you wanted to be at your best for tomorrow's events you would have to retire to bed.

So you rest fitfully, the bed is nothing like your own and you’re scared, but the morning comes sooner than you expect. The assigned handmaidens bustle into the room before you have even rubbed the sleep from your eyes, rushing into your bathroom and beginning to fill the tub. With a heavy heart you slip the straps of your nightgown over your shoulders, the material pooling at your feet, and allow them to guide you into the water.

The maidens manoeuvre you as if you were a doll, lifting your arms and washing you with a cloth, pouring various divine smelling salts into the bath with you. Despite the lack of autonomy, you’re grateful that they’re here. You aren’t sure you could bring yourself to do it in their absence. Practiced hands scrub at your skin until you are a clean slate, a blank canvas for the prince to paint as he pleases. No crevice of your body is left untouched, not even the underneath of your nails, which are scraped free of any dirt. With morbid curiosity, you cannot help but watch as the water retreats down the drain — the ashes of your identity along with it.

When you return to the bedroom you find your dress hung from the large wardrobe door, silhouette haunted and draping across the flooring where the train flares. The fabric is notably heavy and expensive, white in colour to signify your proposed innocence, silky under your fingers. Beside it hangs a thick veil that appears to go on for miles. You would have to wear it for the entirety of the ceremony, forbidden from removing it until you are alone with the prince.

“You will look beautiful, I’m sure,” the oldest maiden present reassures you as she pulls down the gown with great care, her fingers crooked and wrinkled from decades of work. You wish you could have known their names, but after today you would likely never meet again.

“Not that anyone will truly see me,” you murmur, stepping into the dress stiffly, your movements mimicking that of a soulless puppet.

“Your husband will see,” she insists firmly, tugging the straps over your arms in two gentle motions. You'd been informed that there was no need for undergarments — the dress needed to be easy to remove. It was elegant, albeit simple, but not at all what you imagined you’d be wearing on the day of your wedding.

“Are you able to tell me about him?”

The elder handmaid's motions noticeably pause for a short moment before she gestures toward the vanity chair. Once seated you are given the chance to see your reflection, barely recognisable, and patently flawless.

“He doesn’t talk much with the staff, so I can’t be of much use to you. But I can reassure you that he is kind in his own way, my lady. I don’t think he will mistreat you”.

You meet her narrow eyes in the reflection of the mirror and they are nothing but sincere. At the very least, she believes what she is saying, and you take great comfort in it. Brick by brick you attempt to rebuild your mental fortitude, stilling the shake in your breath. Resolved, you nod, and her shoulders visibly relax with the relief.

The veil is lowered over your face.

All that is known to you in your journey to the ceremony are the floorboards beneath your feet, dark in colour and unnaturally charred in certain areas. You do well to ignore the implications, and quell your anxiety by counting each knot, tethered by the grip of a maternal hand. It squeezes in succession, tighter with every step, coaxing your thoughts from any fear as you stumble. The only thing to indicate distance is the daunting, heavenly song of a choir as it grows in volume.

You enter another room. Murmurings and whispers tell of it's grandeur — but it is nothing you are permitted to see. Stifling is the pointed weight of their stares against your back, pervasive in a way. Undoubtedly, given the chance, the lords and ladies of the Todoroki Kingdom would peel away the fabrics from your body if only to placate their own short comings. An understandable curiosity.

Why was it you were chosen, not them?

The elder guides you to a large cushion laid at the foot of the alter, plush beneath your knees as you kneel. You are left bereft in her absence. It was entirely possibly that you would not feel a kind touch again.

Not soon after you are seated, the hushed voices echoing throughout the venue are halted all together. There is no solace in the ephemeral silence, soon broken by the thunderous sound of a group of people rushing to their feet.

A body kneels on the cushion beside yours, mirroring your posture. It cannot be anyone but the man you know to be your betrothed.

“…In the presence of His Royal Highness we will begin the ceremony…”

You find difficult in swallowing. A bitter tang on your tongue. Throat swelling with the bloat of your heart, ears filled only by a pitched, white noise, you wonder if your family is in attendance; if they felt any guilt, or perhaps, they were simply glad to reap the fruits of your involuntary sacrifice.

“…Now, if you will join hands…”

Still puppeted by metaphorical strings, you do as instructed. Holding your right hand out with your palm facing upwards, it is all you can do not to flinch as a large scarred hand appears above your own. Prince Touya appears to hesitate, before decidedly intertwining your fingers together. You do not quite fit the spaces between each knuckle — the skin is smooth, blistering. It carries a heat you suspect will never truly dissipate.

In your periphery, the priest leans forward with a long, elegantly embroidered piece of cloth, and rests it over your wrists, swaddling the space where they kiss. He loops it over twice, symbolic of how your lives are now tied together.

You cannot look away from the hand now legally bound to your own. The skin is discoloured, a deep shade of russet that you recognise to be burn scars. Above the static, the priest is still waxing poetry to the guests about love and duty, how one cannot exist without the other, and your jaw aches with the effort to keep it held shut.

Unexpectedly, from the right you hear a hushed muttering of, “Didn’t think I’d be falling asleep at my own wedding”. To your bleeding heart, it feels like something of an olive branch. You can’t help but to laugh quietly, returning the sentiment. Given the way his figure immediately stills, Touya hadn’t intended for anyone to hear. Yet in the same breath, his grip squeezes, and you begin to hope.

The vows are shared — scripted and foreign in your mouth. Promised to him in mind, body and soul. You daren't count all the lies you had told before the Gods. Something dark and ugly settles in your gut as the both of you are each handed a small cup of red ginseng tea, a well known aphrodisiac, in order to encourage the consummation of your union. To you, it felt like confession. We know you do not truly want one another.

You drink it. The ginseng is slightly salty, the taste clinging like powder to the corners of your mouth, but it is otherwise easy to stomach. The applause that reverberates around the room is not. Wincing at the pinch of your now-husbands nails into the back of your hand, you are atleast comforted by his own discontent. It lessened the loneliness.

It was done. You are now the wife of a Prince.

Surprisingly, there is no room for shame to brew within you as Touya takes you to his quarters, delicately guiding you to the large bed and helping you atop it. The veil falls, the weight of it audibly thudding across the linens, and finally you come face to face with the man you are to spend your life with. Stray strands of saturated red hair hanging over narrowed eyes, paired with irises a piercing blue. His features are strong and distinct in the Todoroki family, yet you do not fear him. A soft curve to his cheeks that is almost youthful, no air of cruelty. He’s terribly handsome even when expressionless.

The stretch of silence causes you exceeding discomfort, though, infuriatingly, your husband seems completely unperturbed. Almost expectant. Touya scrutinises your reflexive flinch at the abrupt knock to his door, enacted in a quiet rhythm that must be purposeful. Due to his lack of surprise, this must be an expected visit. Unveiled but not yet bedded, you turn your head so whoever is there will not see your face, given you are still not broken in — it’s still forbidden.

“Did you manage to find some?” you hear Touya's low murmur, a frown settling on your face as he thanks the stranger and returns to his knees in front of you. Before you can question him, a cup is thrusted towards you, and you take it with both hands, gasping at the stinging heat. Rippling in staccato rings, the liquid appears to be wine, a dark rouge colour, aside from the flowered plant floating on the surface.

“This is…?”

“Boiled pennyroyal and wine,” he says, voice entirely flat and void of emotion. It's both explanation and instruction. Dread settles in the pit of your stomach, the evolving tremor in your hands causing the wine to lap messily at the rim of the cup. It was a tea well known for preventing pregnancy.

“You... do not want children?” you ask weakly. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sound ricocheting between your ribs.

“No,” he replies sharply, before his tone lowers into something considerably softer, adding, “not right now” in what is a poor attempt at making you feel better. It's difficult to say whether or not you are relieved by the prospect. Bringing the hot lip of the cup to your own, the liquid warms your throat as you swallow it, and the aftertaste lingers awfully bitter.

Touya is slow to undo your gown, gently slipping the fabric over the curve of your shoulder. It is neither sensual or teasing, rather he’s being cautious, as if he expected you to run off like a skittish animal. The skin of his palms are rough with scarring but he handles you with so much care you barely notice, his fingers hooking into the sleeves and exposing your breasts to the tepid air.

You had never concerned yourself much with the appearance of your body until that very moment. Insecurities crawl their way into the forefront of your thoughts and you shrink into yourself, worrying that he might not want you, might not like what he saw.

He exhales shakily and shifts closer to you, your knees now touching. “Stop that,” he mutters. His tone is firm but not scolding, and he takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look back at him. Reflecting back at you is nothing short of lust.

“You’re beautiful”.

“You aren’t unhappy with me?” You ask meekly, hearing the quiver in your voice. There is a flash of frustration in his expression, which is quickly painted over with one of amusement. He lifts a hand to undo the buttons of his shirt, tugging the collar roughly to the side to expose the extent of his scars.

The laugh he offers in response is hollow, “I should be asking that of you”.

In an aborted motion, you move to touch him, your hand hovering awkwardly in the space between your bodies. Touya huffs irritably at your hesitance and pulls your arm forward, fingers coming into contact with the marred skin. He’s warm, and his pulse flutters beneath the heel of your palm.

“Could I ask, how did this happen to you?” you ask.

“Not very good at dirty talk, are you?” he laughs again, comforted that this one is bright and genuine. He gently guides you back until you are laid out along the mattress with only your upper half unclothed. Touya looms over you with both arms resting either side of your head, his knees tucked under your legs. Your blood thrums at the realisation that you are now pinned to the mattress, like a butterfly.

“Have you ever fucked anyone?”

Dilated pupils flicker across your face in search of any discomfort or anxiety. You shake your head, too embarrassed to speak. He hums in acknowledgement but seems neither pleased nor disgruntled by the confession. The seed of insecurity in your stomach takes root as you ask, “Have you?”

“Yes,” he says plainly. It doesn’t come as a surprise to you.

“Will you continue to?”

There is an edge to your voice at the thought of him sharing a bed with someone else. You’re aware that some wives allow their husbands to take a mistress -- it is looked down upon, yet especially common in arranged marriages in which there would be no love lost. But even though he was practically a stranger you felt deathly possessive of him. As your husband, he was now yours alone to love.

“Would that bother you?” he smirks, an infuriating air of condescension along with it, “will you tell me to stop seeing other women?”

Jealousy has caused you to overstep. “You’re my Prince and my husband,” you shiver, wishing you could move away and bow your head in apology, “I shouldn’t make demands of you”.

No punishment follows. Instead, the fleeting, tender press of his lips to your temple. “You are my wife,” he murmurs, “if anyone is going to demand things of me, let it be you”.

His given permission sparks like flint to rock in your centre, and you try not to preen. “It would bother me”, you tell him, and the smirk softens. In some way, you think he looks enamoured by your jealousy, by you, as if being wanted wholly was completely new to him.

“Then no,” he relents, “I won’t”.

Relief clouds your senses, and you are startled from your lull of security by the touch of a hand to your breast, his thumb slowly circling your nipple. Instinctively, you arch upward to follow the warmth amidst the chill of the room, skin alight under his touch. You ache to see more of him, weighted by a sense of vulnerability given your own nakedness, but as you reach to unbutton his shirt mottled fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you. A quiet thought whispers that perhaps you weren’t the only one here feeling insecure.

Wordlessly, Touya's hands then clutch at the softness of your hips in order to turn you onto your knees, so you would present yourself to him. You resist it, twisting to give him what you hope to be a pleading look. “I’d like to stay on my back,” you tell him, “I want to see you”.

His mouth falls agape, shaping around words that he can’t find. In processing your request, the pressure of his blunted nails grows steadily against your skin. The answer becomes clear when he relinquishes your hips, dragging your lower half unceremoniously into his lap as you turn. He begins to unbutton his shirt with a trembling hand, the other preoccupied with mapping out the lines of your body. Your knees press together reflexively as he hooks the back of your thigh, prying them open to expose your sex, and something about the salacious look in his eyes makes you feel as if you’re being revered.

A shiver rushes through your body as his thumbs settle into the creases of your thighs and gently pull apart your labia. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, silken shirt finally falling open and revealing the expanse of his torso. He’s lean, toned, his shoulders and chest broad, his stomach seems to be the softest part of him. He’s held together by scars, raised and uneven, the pigment a little darker than the rest of his skin.

“Still want to be on your back?” he asks expectantly, as if it were a given that you want to be turned away from him.

“Yes,” you insist, bravely tracing the pads of your fingers along the glossed skin that covers his forearms, only pleased that he’s allowing you to touch him. His breathing shutters, eyes falling closed briefly under your tender ministrations.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not if I take my time with you”.

Your worries must show patently on your face, you think, as he immediately seeks to reassure you in an offhanded manner. It was already becoming obvious to you what kind of man Touya is, one that does not seek comfort or depend on anyone – a man that hides his affections in plain sight.

Without a modicum of shame, Touya laps at his fingers until they're sodden, and your lungs seize as you feel them press up against your pussy. Their movements are languid, lightly circling your entrance before spreading your wetness over your clit. You can’t help the appreciative hum that vibrates through your chest like a soft purr.

“Touya,” you breathe.

You’d touched yourself before but it had never felt like this. A mans touch was foreign. His fingers are longer, thicker, and acted with more experience than your own. He sinks into you slowly, instructing you to exhale and relax your hips, lips grazing along your inner thigh. Heat simmers under your skin the longer he stares, not at your pussy but at your face, waiting for any indication that you’re uncomfortable.

“That’s it,” he rasps, voice thick with hunger. All this intimacy wouldn’t be good for your heart. You knew it wasn’t common. With only the horrors passed to you through word of mouth, in the months leading up to your wedding, you’d prepared yourself mentally for pain and inconsideration. The expectation was that you would be manhandled and sore, not that your body would be gently coaxed into bliss.

Two fingers curl upwards inside of you, a come hither motion towards your belly, and both thighs clench against his shoulders. As if to sate his own urges rather than your own, Touya leans forward with haste and takes you between his lips, tongue tensed to trace patterns over your clit.

His breathes come hot and laboured through his nose. “Fuck,” you choke, barely a whisper that tapers helplessly into another moan. Almost. The sensation begins as something like a trickle, pleasure slowly seeps into your lower body and the intensity grows into a wave, your chest rising and falling with the tide. Your fisted grip on the silk linens tightens, legs seizing forcefully around his head, and he groans happily as you cum around his fingers.

“Gods. Look at you,” barely cognisant, you watch as Touya grins while bracing himself over the pillows, forearms either side of you, mouth pulled taut and still slick with arousal. When he licks his lips to taste you again, you finally think you understand what temptation means.

“You’re perfect”.

Spurred into action, you fumble as you reach for his belt and pull at the buckle, the tremors of your orgasm still fluttering between your legs. He laughs warmly at your attempts, taking purchase of your hands and resting them atop your sternum so he can attend to it himself. Embarrassment floods you, having wanted to do something for him, too.

All is forgotten when he rolls his hips, the length of his hard cock sliding against you. Pleasure frissons through you as a relieved sigh falls from his lips. He’s big, you think. From above he seems to get lost in it, lost in you, his hands kept busy massaging firm shapes into your thighs. When the head of his cock catches against your entrance you tense involuntarily, and he hushes you.

“Breathe,” he commands gently, pressing himself into you slow, “I’ll make it feel good”.

The stretch is unfamiliar and minutely uncomfortable, made easier by your earlier release. As you exhale, the sting lessens until there is no pain at all to be felt. Skin to skin, he waits in the cradle of your hips, letting you adjust to his length, his expression straining as your sex pulses around him.

“Please”.

Given permission, Touya moves. The tedious pace inwhich he pulls out has to melting into the sheets, savouring the drag of his cock. Your breasts shake with each rock of his body, his eyes enraptured, half lidded and following every movement. Your inhibitions are lost, hands flying up to grip his biceps, nails embedding themselves into the pinked skin of his shoulders. He indulges, bends to nip at the sensitive skin of your chest, and you arch into his mouth as he continues to transverse the length of your body to tuck into the crook of your neck.

The rhythm is purposeful, deliberate, playing to the obscene wet slap of skin bouncing around your newly-wed quarters. He groans and the sound is so unrestrained it has your toes curling against the bed. “I’m going to– again–!” you warn between stuttered breaths, too far gone to be ashamed by the clumsy jerking of your own hips as you attempt to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck– yes,” he grunts, movements devolving with the desperate need for release, “cum for me, baby”.

Quaking, tension weaves into the sinew of your body as the air catches in your throat. Eyes squeezing shut, your arms lock around the expanse of his back as you crest, in a feeble attempt to cling to reality.

You resurface in time to feel the final, abrupt thrust of his hips as he cums inside you, abdomen clenched as he curls into himself. Panting through it, Touya's brittle whines are hot against the underside of your jaw, limp arms still wrapped around him to keep his comforting weight close. You don’t want to let go.

The contentment does not last. Your arms fall away as he sits upright, his cock gradually softening inside of you. His vermillion hair dishevelled in all directions, a thin sheen of sweat along his forehead, a blush adorning his cheeks. The unkempt and blissed is a charming look on Touya -- it tempts for further intimacy that you aren't sure is allowed.

“Are you in pain?” he asks.

Blinking, you reply in wonder, “There was no pain at all”. He snorts, a tired yet cocksure smirk pulling at his lips. He is considerate even as he pulls out, massaging aimless shapes into your pelvis to soothe any aches, but that does not stop you grimacing at the emptiness that is left behind – nor at the sensation of his cum slipping down onto the bedsheets.

The chill is gone, air thick with the smell of sex. He curses grumpily at the mess and gets to his feet, hastening over to the bathroom only to return with a wet cloth to wipe you with. You fight the haze just to watch him kneel between your legs and gently clean, exhaustion seeping steady into your bones, wearing a tired smile at the small act of care. You think that perhaps, you really could grow to love one another.

It isn’t until you are falling into sleep that you realise he never kissed you. Not once.

The morning after the consummation of your union you awoke alone in your bed, and as your arm had slid along the mattress you noticed there was no warmth to be found. In hindsight, the absence of a loving kiss was somewhat predictive; as for the entire month following your wedding is largely spent alone or with the gardeners, Izuku and his mother Inko, whose family had supposedly been hired to tend Todoroki land for generations.

It did not take you long to realise you might have been naïve in thinking this marriage would be a loving one so soon.

Prince Touya seemingly avoids you at every turn, even going so far as to retire to bed late when he thinks you are already sleeping. He treats you like you are unsightly, yet when he climbs under the sheets he would cradle you against his chest, unaware that you’re awake, and press a tender kiss to the back of your hand – never your lips. Not only do you find his behaviour confusing, it hurts, much more than you thought it would, given you had been strangers not long ago.

But you’d vowed to him your life and your heart, let him have your body and honour. You hoped he would eventually do the same.

Regardless of his attempts to stay away, you would still make the effort to find him on the palace grounds. As lost as you might become in your endeavours, you were determined to have him face you at least once a day as a reminder. I am here, I am your wife.

Such is your goal for the day. Left to your own devices once again you find yourself wandering by the kitchens, lured in by the delicious smell of baked goods. You weren’t often informed of happenings in the palace – even after being wedded to the Prince you held no real standing – but you had heard excitable whispers from the staff that morning. Princess Fuyumi would be visiting, and she was known to have a sweet tooth.

The scent is tempting, and it calls to core memories from your childhood that you might’ve otherwise forgotten. Muffled voices and girlish tittering can be heard down the hallways, interrupting your moment of nostalgia and piquing your curiosity.

“...It’s too bad Prince Touya is married now, he never comes to see me anymore...”

You stumble at the mention of your husband's name and quickly conceal yourself flat to the wall, hand pressed against the cold brick to steady yourself. The maidens seem to have taken no notice, and had they caught you there would be no consequence, yet your pulse still echoes loudly in your ears.

“He’s a good lay, isn’t he?”

“I’ll miss his mouth, that’s for certain,” another laughs, “my beloved husband has never made me feel that good”.

Your blood turns to lead, a heavy stone settling into the pit of your chest with the realisation that these were the women he had been with in the past. He had touched them, tasted them, much in the same way he had you.

Touya hadn't been dishonest about his conquests, there was no reason to be. And you had been aware, even before his admittance to you, that he’d likely had other partners. But simply knowing and coming face to face with them were entirely different. Their gossiping offers kindling to an anger you hadn't known existed before now; it is less about him bedding them, rather, you wished they wouldn't discuss it so openly. At the very least, out of respect for you.

Twenty seconds is all you'll allow. As the time is up, you slap your hands to your cheeks to startle the tears out of your system and supress the hurt. A valley fold, a reverse tail -- one corner at a time, you take the insecurity and shape it into the mental image of an origami swan, and you tuck it away.

Clutching at the fabric of your skirt, heart steady, you choose to focus instead on the positive. Even though he clearly wasn’t touching you, Prince Touya was no longer seeking them out for sex. He’d respected your wishes, and the knowledge placates your anxiety.

Lifting the drapes of fabric pooling at your feet, you quickly turn to flee the corridor as the voices grow louder. Following the winding corridors, you make your way through the palace in search of the training area where you knew Touya would be with his brother, Natsu. You were still completely lost on the layout of your new home, every day that passed you seemed to find a new place to explore. In truth, you didn't think you were ever going to get used to living here.

Stepping through a large doorway into a padded room, your sights are set in on the distant figures of two men parrying with their swords. The left figure built, the right more lithe, quick on his feet. Your husband is smiling, and it is not because of you. A draft billows into the open space, and you wrap your arms around your chest, all the while childishly fantasising about Touya rushing over to offer you his coat.

“Are you alright?” a gentle voice calls out to you, and your body flinches at the sound.

“Heavens,” you gasp, alarmed hands clutching at your chest as if to smother the startled beat of your heart.

You whip around, and in doing so, come face to face with your new sister in law. Much like her other siblings she is undeniably beautiful, but with eyes much brighter in person, and a sweet smile that naturally begins to undo the knots in your sternum.

“My apologies, Princess Fuyumi,” you bow deeply and meet her gaze as you lift your head. “I was just looking for Prince Touya”.

At the mention of her brother, the placid smile widens into a grin. She is so content in her own presumptions of your marriage that you almost feel guilty. She takes your hands into hers with renewed enthusiasm, “How is he treating you? I trust all is going well?”

You try to muster up a genuine smile, intermingling a smidgen of truth in with the lie so it might be more acceptable, “It is going well. Though, I haven’t been able to spend much time with him”. But the Princess is as observant as she is kind. Fuyumi’s expression fractures slowly, grip tightening around your fingers and running the pad of her thumb along the line of your knuckles. The act of comfort is overwhelming after so long without a kind touch.

“Arranged marriages are difficult in the beginning, I can tell you from experience,” she offers sympathetically. “you were two strangers, now forced to navigate life together, you mustn't let yourself be disheartened by these growing pains”.

“It will eventually get easier”.

You nod in agreement. Fuyumi needn't know that she was only repeating to you what you had already been telling yourself -- though from her mouth, you heard it as a plea for her brother rather than a comfort.

“My elder brother has been through a lot of hardship,” Fuyumi continues with an almost motherly cadence, casting her gaze across the training grounds to observe as Touya and Natsuo continue to spar, the sharp sound of their weapons colliding can be heard even from this distance.

“He doesn’t know how to show love because it was never shown to him. He was hidden away and told he was unsightly. When Shouto was named heir and he had his claim to the throne stripped from him, political marriage was his only use. And even in that, he had no choice”.

A frustrated, pained retort of 'neither did I' sits heavy on the edge of your tongue. You remain silent, briefly glancing towards the tall ceilings to will away the sting behind your eyes. Unawares of your presence, Touya moves seamlessly with his weapon, wielding it as if it is an extension of his body. In spite of his irregular bouts of ill health, his body is lean and strong, his instincts impressive and reflexes refined. You knew from the books he kept in his personal library that he was intelligent, driven and curious. He would’ve been a good king.

Fuyumi settles her hand between your shoulder blades, the warmth seeping through your clothes, “If I know him as well as I think I do, I would say he likely avoids you because he thinks that is what you want”.

You balk at the notion, brow pinched with doubt as you glance towards her. “Why would I want that?”

Her expression is melancholy, and not once does she look away from her brothers. “He knows that if given the choice, you would not have picked him”.

“That's--!”

“--But! I think you’ll be good for him,” she interrupts, “I trust you’ll make him happy, though I didn’t expect him to run from his feelings so quickly”.

Before you can give a rebuttal, a yell of victory calls for your attention. Across the room, your husband throws his hands up in celebration as he stands over his brother, the tip of his sword tucked against Natsu's throat. Touya brandishes a bright grin, genuine and joyous; one that steadily dims as he meets your eyes, and narrows at whatever he sees beyond your figure.

A squire strides in through the doorway, pausing at your side. Your back straightens expectantly. Touya helps his brother to his feet, all the while keeping his dubious glare on the attendant, his shoulders strangely stiff. You had never seen him so apprehensive.

Voice monotonous and dutiful, the man falls forward into a deep bow, “King Enji wishes to meet with you before the evening feast, my Lady”.

Touya's strides forward with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, footfalls loud as he hurries. He does not slow in his approach, crowding in uncomfortably close until he has inserted himself between the two of you, and the squire takes tentative step back.

“What does the bastard want?” Natsuo demanded, while Touya's remains surprisingly silent, maintaining a wide stance with half of his body shielding you from view. Fuyumi reaches forward for your hand, clasping it between her own, and pulling you further back to her side for reassurance.

You sought no comfort from the action, rather it frightened you. They were defensive on your behalf for reasons you couldn't understand. They were protecting you from a servant who was here at their father's behest, and seemingly, they did not want you anywhere near the king.

“I am not privy to that information, Your Highness,” the squire replies, “and the King does not think you are either”.

In the end, it is a helpless affair, one you cannot run from. Fuyumi releases you as you are beckoned, and the concern in her expression so stark it disarms you. As you pass Touya, he reaches for your arm.

“Be careful,” he murmurs, gently circling his thumb against the sensitive skin of your wrist, holding you in place until the servant pointedly coughs.

Guided deep into the maw of the Kings quarters, you feel a daunting sense of nostalgia. A prophetic dread hangs over your disposition just as it had the night before your wedding, only this time your source of comfort is the phantom warmth of your husbands hand.

The squire takes pause outside two large doors, arching atleast ten feet tall and guarded by two armour fitted knights. Without preamble, he pulls taut the rope hung beside the doorframe. A bell rings and both doors slowly swing open in return, the wood complaining beneath the movement.

King Enji stands foreboding by a wall of full length windows that look out onto the gardens. The room itself appears to be an office type space, a grand and beautifully carved desk sitting in the centre of the room with a large cathedra behind it and two cushioned arm chairs opposite.

The squire bows to his King, and then to you, before taking his leave.

“Sit”.

The fine hair on your arms stands on end despite the lack of a chill. Now alone together, King Enji stirs an instinct buried deep in your marrow that is almost primal. You, a well meaning rabbit, lured into the den of an apex predator. Enji is a colossal, imposing presence even without his armour. A king revered and feared by millions and rightly so – if the sensation of fury could be given a human form, it would surely take on his appearance.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Your Royal Highness,” you speak clearly as he prefers, and keep your back straight when you bow before taking your seat. Any attempts to smooth the tremble in your reply prove to be futile, but as you meet his calculating, amused stare, you realise that it pleases him.

“Touya was born a month early, were you aware of that?” Enji asks as he walks the length of the room to an array of glass bottles, the sound of wine being poured only slightly louder than the blood rushing in your ears. You shake your head in response, still unable to trust your voice.

“He almost killed his mother. A monstrous little thing,” he hands you a cup, half full of red wine, and the liquid swills against the lip of the glass as you shake.

A baby, you think. Not a monster, a baby.

“For months he refused to be taken from his mothers breast. He was weak, falling ill at the slightest change in weather. An embarrassment to the bloodline, really”.

There is a pregnant pause, and for a moment you fear that he expects you to speak, but he instead glares at the wine you have not yet sipped.

“Do you dislike wine?” he asks, and you quickly hold the cup to your lips, swallowing back the bitter taste while fighting to keep your expression neutral. It was strong, and left your tongue unbearably dry, but it satisfied him.

“He grew to be stubborn and sharp tongued. Qualities that I would not mind had his confidence not been so baseless, pathetic. He caused me nothing but trouble,” the King returns to the grand chair adjacent to where you sit, his form still seeming to tower over you even while seated.

“It is unfortunate that the fire did not kill him”.

You feel your helplessness more than ever in that moment, beneath the weight of his heinous grin. He is telling you all this because you cannot do anything about it, because he wants you to view your husband as weak, pathetic and disfigured. Touya was born into failure, that’s what his father thought, and he would not let his son escape from that reality. Not even with his own wife.

“Your union with Touya has been of great benefit to me, and for that I thank you,” he says, his index finger tapping heavily against his wine glass. “I can only apologise that these are the cards you were dealt”.

He felt sorry for you. He pitied your marriage to his son. This was not a meeting between a father and his new daughter, no, you were here to be undermined and intimidated. It was all a show of power, a show of wealth and status.

‘I did this to my own son, think what I could do to you’.

“You will forgive my imprudence,” Enji begins after swallowing all the liquid in his glass in one, quick gulp, “but did Touya finish inside you on your wedding night?”

Momentary white hot embarrassment, coupled with anger, flashes through you at his question, his lack of respect for privacy within your marriage, and his lack of respect for your husband. Your grip on the wine tightens so much you fear it might shatter.

“Touya may have failed as my heir, but he still has a duty to carry on our bloodline,” he continues, “that falls to you”. You remember what Touya had given you to drink that night, the lengths he had gone to ensure you could not be impregnated, and allow yourself a deep inhale to steel your resolve.

Loosening your shoulders as you meet his prying eyes you answer, “yes, Your Majesty”.

You are met with another member of staff upon your dismissal, there to escort you back to your quarters. The journey across the palace feels longer, suffocating, and paranoia prickles at your heart.

You had lied to a King.

To your surprise, Touya is waiting for you on the edge of your shared bed as you are led back to your room. There is an apparent nervous energy puppetting his body, wild eyes flickering across the length of your clothed figure.

“Bathe with me,” he instructs you.

“What?” you stammer, crossing your arms anxiously across your stomach. He huffs with frustration.

“I said, bathe with me”.

The bathroom you share together is much larger than you think it needs to be, but you find yourself grateful for the length of the tub as your husband undresses himself beside you without a care. He climbs in, the surface of the water rising slightly against his weight, gentle waves washing against his chest.

Once it becomes clear he is not going to look away you reach for the clasp at the back of your neck, undoing the buttons and shifting your arms out of the sleeves. This gown in particular has two underskirts, proving troublesome to remove without the help of your maidens, the material eventually pooling at your feet.

Your nakedness in front of him still stirs feelings of vulnerability and insecurity in you, despite having slept together. Touya’s stare is inescapable, the weight of it can be felt on every part of your body. In his eyes is an odd glimmer of trepidation, as if he were searching for something, but you weren’t sure exactly what.

You enter the bath at the opposite end of the tub, thankful for the depth as the water rises to cover your breasts. He doesn’t comment on the distance, but he does lean his body forward to rest his arms atop his knees.

“It is not like you to want to spend time with me,” you mutter with cautious annoyance. He scrutinises you, hesitant as his fingertips tease the surface of the water, almost close enough to reach for your own hand.

“Did he hurt you?”

It clicks, then, what he had been studying your body for. Bruising, or injuries, left behind by his father.

“No,” you reply quietly. You dare not look at him, watching the expression on your face distort within the water's reflection, “he did ask me if you had… tried to conceive with me, on our wedding night”.

A sharp inhale. “What did you tell him?”

“That we tried, of course,” you frown, lifting your head in brief irritation, “do you not trust me, or do you simply take me for a fool?”

“You ought to be careful what you say to me, or else you could land yourself in trouble,” his eyes narrow, cerulean irritation reflected back at you but you felt no true malice from him. You never had.

“You would not hurt me,” you reply in a whisper, far more afraid of your own tendency to be too honest than you were of him, though he could not have known that. Your hands wring together nervously, the water rippling around the movement, lapping the skin of your upper arms.

“What gave you that impression?” he snorts humourlessly.

“Everyone I’ve conversed with…” the words catch in your throat, your anxiety, a prong collar around your neck. Acknowledging that you saw through his act felt like you were stepping out of line, that you were disrupting the script. “They spoke of your unique kindness. You are known as a considerate man, Touya, not a cruel one”.

There is a brief period of unbearable silence, wherein neither of you know how to move forward. Your thoughts run amok in your mind, having learnt so much in so little time, you didn’t even know whether it would be appropriate to ask Touya about his mistreatment. He had been so sure that his father would harm you that he’d abandoned his plans for the evening just to wait for you.

“You don’t feel safe here, do you, Majesty?” you murmur.

He feigns ignorance at your words, denying you a response in favour of reaching for one of the many washcloths folded on a shelf by the tub. He dips in between your bodies, the cotton growing dark as it absorbs the water.

He tips his head toward you, holding the cloth out while nervously swiping his bottom lip with his tongue. “May I?” he asks.

“Oh!” you fight the urge to sink beneath the surface and stew in your embarrassment, heat simmering beneath your skin that you naively wish to blame on the steam, “do not feel obligated, your Highness, I can–”

“You are my wife,” he interrupts, “even if I weren’t obligated, I want to”.

There it is again, the intimacy, the sudden affectionate actions that cause your mind to reel. You wished he would just decide what he wanted, to leave you be entirely or to let himself be loving.

“Why are you crying?” He frowns, reaching out his other hand and hesitantly swiping his thumb across the dampness of your cheeks, yet you pull back from his touch. His voice is quiet, rough, it mingled so softly with the echo of the water you almost mishear him. You’re tempted to laugh at the question, at how oblivious he has been to your loneliness, words coming between stuttered breaths, Touya’s expression blurred behind tears.

“You needn’t pretend to care about me, Touya—” He clicks his tongue sharply with frustration, fingers gliding down your throat to cup the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his.

“That is quite an assumption to make,” he rasps.

“What am I supposed to think?” You tremble, fingers meeting the raised skin of his chest as he moves to your end of the tub, “you haven’t touched me since our wedding night. You haven’t even kissed me”.

“That’s what this is all about?” He breathes, the words warm against your lips, his nose pressed to your cheek, “my sweet little wife wants me to kiss her?”

“Don’t mock me,” your voice still meek despite your efforts. To your disappointment he pulls back, only slightly, instead choosing to run the wet cloth over the curve of your shoulder and down the planes of your back.

“My sister scolded me while you were gone, you know,” he eventually says, “she said you do not have the ‘glow of a newlywed’”.

You don’t know how to respond, so you remain silent under his ministrations, complying when he quietly asks you to raise your arm from beneath the water. He takes your hand delicately, thumb twisting your wedding ring as he drags the cloth down the length of your bicep to your wrist.

“I’ve been... neglectful,” he admits in place of an apology, giving a subtle shrug of his shoulders, “I was never meant to be anyone’s husband, and I don't particularly know what love is”.

An exhale of breath, his fingers intertwine then with yours, ”but I would like to try”.

“Okay,” you faltered, a small flame of hope flickers in your chest that you’re quick to smother. At the very least, you would give him the opportunity to try, nothing else.

A strained air of awkwardness descends upon you both as you exit the baths and begin to dress yourselves. Touya still hovers close by, lifting his towel to dry the stray drop of water that cascades the dip of your collar, your heart stuttering where it sits beneath your ribs.

His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your nape when you struggle to hook the clasp, carefully fastening the back of the gown for you.

“Thank you,” you bow shortly, fighting the heat spreading through your body. Somehow, you find that small touch flusters you far more than bathing with him did.

The feast for Fuyumi is a moderate affair, attended only by close friends of the Royal Family. Uncharacteristically, Touya keeps his hand resting on the small of your back as you enter the dining hall together, and to your relief, neither of you seem to garner much attention from the guests.

A musician is seated at the grand piano, playing a soft alluring tune to serve as background noise to the conversations around you. You distantly wonder if your wedding had taken place here, unaware of the heterochromatic eyes following you across the room.

You take your seat beside your husband, a server immediately leaning over your shoulder to place the starter in front of you, then another cutting in from your left to fill your glass with sake. Now that you’re surrounded by families of wealth and high standing it becomes glaringly obvious how little they think of your husband, and by association you, as evidenced by how the two of you are blatantly ignored.

Touya slumps back into his chair with a loose grip on his drink, the other arm sliding across your lap to take your hand with a pointed glare toward the head of the table. You dare not look and begin using your free hand to eat.

“What is it?” you inquire under your breath, savouring the taste of the wagyu beef. Your circumstances could certainly be much worse.

“Shouto is staring,” he gripes, lifting his chopsticks and playing with his matsutake gohan like a picky child. Todoroki Shouto, the youngest sibling and heir, the one you had yet to meet. You raise your head to glance in the direction of the King, knowing that is likely where he’d be seated.

He is staring. Unblinking, his head tilted toward his father as if he were still listening to the man, yet his gaze remained on you. Even at this distance you can sense he is young, a youthful swell to his cheeks and a peculiarity you cannot seem to put your finger on.

But his eyes are harrowing. He seems desperately lonely.

“Do you dislike him?”

Touya snorts, “he is the golden child. Everything I am not”.

“He’s only a boy,” you say, tone forlorn and low with the King's words fresh in your mind, “just like you were”. The sharpness in his demeanour dulls into something soft, contemplative, and the squeeze of his hand causes your wedding ring to press uncomfortably into your skin.

Somehow you manage to eat from all five courses, conscious of the leftovers and not wanting to seem rude, but the people around you have no issue pushing their plates aside once they’ve had their fill. Even with a Lord for a father you’d been taught to never waste a meal, and it served as a harsh reminder that some people did not need to concern themselves with such customs.

Touya does not eat much, his distasteful scowl remains a permanent fixture well into the evening. Once people begin to step away from the table to socialise he suggests that you retire to bed early, the sharp rebuttal on your tongue quickly swallowed as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Believe me,” he rasps, “you will not be missing anything. I almost envy you”.

The bed is cold when you climb into it, as it always is, and Touya joins you late, as he always does.

You are coaxed from sleep by the sensation of a warm, heavy hand cupping your cheek. Blinking against the morning light that floods into the bedroom, your eyes slowly adjust to the silhouette of the figure still laid beside you. Touya watches as you shake off the last dregs of sleep, his lips crooked as he fails to stop himself from smiling.

“You’re here,” you mumble, voice still slurred and dipped in exhaustion. The smile tightens, a flash of guilt reflected back at you in azure eyes.

“I’m here,” he assures quietly, “I thought if you felt up to it, I could take you riding”.

You recall then his promise of trying to be better. Pushing up onto your elbow, forgetting yourself as you reverse your positions, you lean into his space excitedly. “A date?” you ask, rubbing the thin overnight crust from your eyes. Touya smirks, the chub of his cheeks deepening the laughter lines by his eyes, your enthusiasm entirely contagious.

Once you’re dressed, switching your skirt for riding pants, he leads you out to the stables. You had not yet explored this part of the gardens, a little wary of the stablemen and perhaps the horses themselves, but Touya navigates it well. In the castle the staff will often avert their gazes from him, but here he is greeted loudly, giving you the impression he visited often.

“It’s good to see you again, Your Highness!” an older man with fair, sand-coloured hair calls out to him, a wilting piece of hay hanging from between his lips.

“Jin,” Touya raises his hand in a familiar manner, “my wife and I both require mounts. Bring out Yua for her”.

The man nods before turning to comply with the demand, opening the gate to the third stall and guiding out a beautiful chestnut coloured horse.

“She’s our sweetest girl,” Touya murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Suits you, don’t you think?”

He brushes a surprising kiss to your temple and you lean back into his warmth, ignoring his flirting in favour of watching Jin saddle up your mare. Adjacent to Yua’s stall stands another mare, this one a little taller and blue in colour, that seems to be growing impatient.

“That one’s Nozomi, she’s mine,” Touya explains after following your line of sight, “She’s a Blue Roan. Rare in these parts”.

“She’s beautiful,” you reply in awe. Jin quickly saddles both Yua and Nozomi, Touya leaning forward to observe with obvious contentment. This was something he enjoyed, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that he was sharing it with you.

“I’ve had Nozomi since I was young, but she’s still cautious around new people,” he says, hooking his fingers beneath the girth strap of Yua’s saddle to make sure it’s secure enough for you. As he’s distracted the Blue Roan stares at you inquisitively and exhales a low, breathy whinny, as if to say ‘come here’. You step forward and raise your hand slowly, allowing time for her to duck her muzzle into your palm affectionately.

“Traitor,” he scolds half heartedly, poking Nozomi in the thick of her shoulder, and she huffs a snort in response.

Touya offers to help you mount and you accept, an abrupt squeak falling from your lips as he lifts you effortlessly and deposits you onto the saddle before swinging himself up onto his own steed with ease.

You welcome the cool caress of the breeze as the two of you ride out of the castle gates. Touya turns his mare toward a clearing in the woods, her relaxed walk evolving until she is galloping ahead of you, his vermillion hair blowing against the wind.

“Race you!” he yells over his shoulder, and you laugh incredulously.

Yua is spirited, but she listens well as you loop the reins around your hands and squeeze your legs against her sides, encouraging her to follow. Her easy trot speeds up until she’s galloping, only a few metres behind Touya and Nozomi, your body rising and falling with her movements.

Despite the ugliness that lies within the family, the Todoroki land is beautiful, fertile and green even with the sparse seasons of rainfall. As you ride the forest seems to breathe around the two of you, inhaling the scent of petrichor and wildflowers as the wind combs through your hair, taken by the sensation of freedom.

You could understand why Touya, of all the siblings, came to love riding.

Nozomi begins to slow as she nears a meadow and Yua sidles up beside her elder, whinnying loudly. You take a moment to appreciate the surroundings – wildgrass untouched, splashes of colour found in every corner and the gentle sound of running water in the distance.

Touya climbs down from her, and with assistance you dismount your horse into his embrace. “There’s a stream just ahead, we can sit and let them drink,” he says, eyes appraising the length of your legs in the riding breeches.

“Stop staring,” you spluttered, the embarrassment only making his grin widen.

“A man can’t stare at his wife?”

You tuck your chin to your chest in an effort to hide your own smile, knowing it will only encourage him. Leaning into his side as his arm wraps around your shoulder, he begins guiding you down to the brook with both reins in hand.

As the stream comes into view the mares walk forward instinctively, ducking their necks to lap at the clear water. He knots the reins loosely around a thick tree branch, patting Nozomi firmly on the back before gesturing for you to sit on a clear spot in the meadow.

You sit with your legs curled to the side, leaning against his shoulder as he plays with your fingers in his lap. The day is perfect, a rare day of clear skies without unbearable heat, the sun warm on your cheeks where she kisses your skin.

“Would you be angry if I asked you something personal?”

“Only if you won’t be angry with my answers,” he conceded.

“Why don’t you want children?” you ask, your voice suddenly startling a partridge out of the long grass. Touya inhales sharply, twisting to watch as it takes flight, a far-off look in his eyes.

“At present, Shouto will be the one taking the throne,” he begins with a shallow sigh, “I was deemed unfit because of my condition. Fuyumi is a woman, and therefore has no claim. Natsuo rescinded his right to the throne when he took the oath and became a knight”.

You nod as he speaks, keeping your gaze fixed on his expression as it sours, “If we were to have a son and something happens to Shouto, the claim would go to him, because I was the first born”.

“Oh,” you whisper.

He turns his hand, your palms kissing as he intertwines your fingers, “I wouldn't want our child to bear that burden”.

His reasoning is understandable, and it placates the small insecurity you held that perhaps he simply didn’t want children with you.

“Do you want children?”

You hum amusedly. “I’d want happy children,” is your decided answer, and he snorts a short breath of laughter, grip squeezing. An silent show of gratitude.

The breeze picks up momentarily and your body turns into his embrace to syphon his natural warmth. His chin nudges against your temple in a bid for attention, and you lift your head to grant him it. His face is closer than you expect, eyes heavy-lidded and dilated as he gauges your reaction.

Short, soft breaths ghost against your lips, and you feel the ache in your chest spread to your stomach, tilting your chin towards him with want. You jolt as he finally kisses you, a tongue tentatively tracing along the seam of your mouth, waiting for signs of discomfort just as he had on your first night. The longing has been accumulating for so long that you feel as if your strings have been pulled taut.

And so they thin, and inevitably snap.

His hand finds your hip, shifting until you are laid amongst the wildflowers, bracing himself over you on his elbows and knees, but as he deepens the kiss he lets his weight sink onto your body. It is every bit as comforting as you remembered it to be.

Like a flood gate had been opened, yearning and want takes ahold of you. Your hands flock along the length of his arms, needing to touch everything, everywhere, but not wanting to seem clumsy or naïve.

He smiles against your mouth, a welcome feeling, and slides his hands beneath your hips to squeeze at your ass through your breeches. The moment slows and the surroundings fade away, your husband seemingly content only to press himself to every inch of you and kiss you breathless.

“Touya,” you sigh happily, muffled by his mouth. He pulls back minutely, followed by a wet string of saliva still connecting your lips.

“How’s that for a kiss?” he asks, and it might’ve sounded mocking had it not been so eager, “or was that not enough for you?”.

Your legs fall open when he pulls you into his lap, hands tightly fisted into the material of his shirt. “We shouldn’t,” you sigh, your resolve crumbling as he begins to forge a path of wet kisses down the column of your throat, “not... not here”.

“No one will see or hear us,” he mouths at the exposed skin beneath the collar of your blouse, “but if you truly want to endure the twenty minute ride home to our bed, I’m happy to oblige you”.

He knows neither of you have the patience for that. You’re right where he wants you.

“Will you kiss me again?” you ask, and his lips align with yours. He kisses you tender, over and over, coming up only for short breaths of air before returning to you.

You feel as your body loses rigidity, melting like softening butter beneath his hands, the heat pooling notably between your legs. He pulls the hem of your blouse out from your waistband, his fingers quick to slip beneath and bunch the material above your breasts.

Emboldened by his affections you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt and this time he doesn’t stop you. Resting your hand against his bare chest, right where his heart sits, you marvel at the pace of his pulse.

You excite him just as much as he excites you.

“I need to taste you again,” he says, the request thick in his throat as he lets himself want, “it’s all I’ve been able to think about”.

“Please,” you breathe.

His movements are a touch frantic as he pulls off his shirt and carefully lifts your hips from the soft grass to spread it beneath your body. Once you’re comfortable he makes work of your breeches, tight as they are on your thighs, and tugs them off your legs.

He hooks the crotch of your underwear and pulls it aside, resting his thumbs in the crease of your thighs. Propped up on your elbows you watch while he slowly eases your legs apart, his gaze unblinking and ravenous.

Such a pretty pussy. You recall the words he’d said to you on that first night and feel yourself throb, his mouth falling slack at the sight.

Touya bows forward and takes you into his mouth, running the flat of his tongue through your folds and laving over your clit as he inhales deeply through his nose. Your thighs clamp either side of his head reflexively, and the hazy groan given in return frissons through you.

You feel his fingers flirting with your entrance, his tongue focused only on caressing shapes into your clit. He plays with you, sinking into your warmth only to the first knuckle and retreating, rubbing your wetness between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re not being fair,” you whine, hips rolling up desperately to entice him, and he gives in easily. You remember his instructions to breathe when he finally presses his deft fingers inside of you, fucking you slowly with his hand. A sob falls from your lips, hands dashing into his windswept hair, your cunt pulsing as you squirm with sensitivity.

The pressure builds gradually until it is spreading like wildfire, thighs trembling where they hang over his broad shoulders. Your back arches, chest heaving and hands still tightly fisted into his hair. He moans wanton at the muted sting in his scalp, and you chase the sensation, holding him firmly to your sex as you crest. Molten bliss washes over you, diffuses through you, warming from the inside out.

Touya sits up to brace himself, forearms either side of your head and his grinning mouth obscenely wet. A soft gasp passes your lips as he reaches between your bodies to pull his cock from his pants, sliding himself through the mix of saliva and cum.

This time, as he sinks his cock inside of you, he does so with his mouth pressed to yours. Heat rises to the surface of your skin when he tempts your tongue into his mouth, suckling on it with a pleased hum that reverberates like a purr.

The drag of his cock inside you is as good as you remembered, the smooth rock of his hips seducing you into bliss, whines muffled and swallowed by his fervent kisses. The sun is bright above you, bathing you in her warmth where you lay hidden between the tall grass, the slap of wet skin drowned out by the rush of the stream.

His rhythm changes, both arms slipping beneath your body and holding you tight to his chest while he grinds tight circles into you. “Touya,” you moan languidly, nails curling into the marred skin of his shoulders as you cling to him, his pants hot against your cheek.

He pulls your orgasm from you like loose thread from a sheet, slowly unravelling and unending, your body trembling in his embrace all the while. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, “so fucking beautiful like this”.

You finally feel blanketed by loves potential, held, as he rides you through to your last wave with leisurely strokes until his hips slowly come to a stop.

He lifts his head to look at you, a blush blooming from his neck to his ears and his hair pointed in all directions. It takes a moment for you to realise that he’s still hard. You hadn’t taken the medicine, so he couldn’t risk finishing inside of you.

“Let me,” you mumble, still catching your breath as he complies and pulls out of you. There are a few seconds of mourning, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness as you wrap your hand around his cock. His brow furrows, collapsing onto one arm with his mouth agape in relief.

He grunts, “Tighter”. With three long, firm strokes, he cums across your bare stomach, whimpering as his hips buck clumsily into your fist.

“That was…” your voice tapers off in disbelief, and he laughs breathlessly.

His cock begins to soften and he leans his forehead against yours, eyes held shut and savouring the afterglow before pushing himself upright. He presses a tender kiss to the inside of your knee as he tucks himself back into his pants, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to clean you up.

You reach to cup his jaw as he does, brushing your thumb along the line of his cheekbone, the pink skin smooth beneath your touch.

“Do you apply any ointments to your burns?”

He turns into your palm, “No, there’s no point”.

“That isn’t true,” you say, your voice purposefully gentle, “it’s important to protect your skin, scars are far more susceptible to sunburn you know”.

“Is that so,” he murmurs offhandedly, his lips moving against your love line, folding the soiled handkerchief and shoving it back into his pocket to dispose of later.

You hum an affirmative. “I could make some for you, I’ll have to find some beeswax and…”

He studies you wordlessly through loose, crimson bangs with fond eyes as you list off the ingredients you’d need. Nozomi and Yua whinny impatiently from the brook, reminding you that if you did not return to the palace soon a search party may be sent out. You wished you could carve out this space in time and remain there forever.

The sun dips behind a cloud.

“Let’s go home”.

[fereldanwench]

A Personal, and Final, Reflection on A Certain Fandom

Having spent the past week and a half away from the Tumblr side of the C*b*rp*nk community after a resurgence of old wank (not hashing out the details–IYKYK), I heavily weighed the pros and cons of saying anything else. Ultimately, I decided for my own peace of mind and ability to fully move forward, I do want to say a few things (or a lot of things, given how long this is). This blog is my personal archive first and foremost, and I think writing a “final chapter” will help me find closure. I’m also choosing to publish this because, at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I think my mistakes and subsequent revelations might be good learning experiences for others, too. 

Like many of us, just by the nature of when this game was released, I entered this fandom during a very fragile, tumultuous time in my life–Well, sort of, let me back it up a little: I actually initially entered it during a great time in my life. It was July 2021, I had just enjoyed about 6 weeks off from work after quitting a demanding job that had sucked the life out of me for almost 10 years, and I had started a promising new job. I even bought the game with the first paycheck from said new job!

Unfortunately, while I had been told that this position was temp-to-hire, not only was it not a path to a permanent role, but because I completed all the work in my contract over a month sooner than they anticipated (early September vs late October), I was being let go early because they had nothing else for me to work on. I was literally told over the phone, “You did amazing work, you got us caught up through November, but we don’t have anything else for you.”

Cue about 6 months of recruiters ghosting me, exhausting interview processes, demoralizing rejections, and scam upon scam upon scam, all culminating in me returning to the job I had been so happy to leave a year earlier. And while my old coworkers were ecstatic to have me back, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete failure. I took what I thought was a calculated risk, I thought I could do something better for myself, and I couldn’t. It’s something I’m still struggling with today, honestly.

On top of this, I also experienced a debilitating physical health episode in January 2022 which led to me being effectively bedridden for about 3 weeks. [CW: Menstruation, sexual health] I’m not sure of the exact cause–maybe a bad reaction to emergency contraception, maybe unsafe menstrual underwear, but it resulted in menorrhagia so severe I fainted from blood loss. My insurance had literally just ended, another wave of COVID was hitting, and I didn’t want to risk getting infected sitting in an ER for hours only to rack up a few thousand in debt to get a blood transfusion. So rest, iron supplements, and lots of meat and spinach and orange juice was the best I could do.

All of this led to my world becoming very small. I wasn’t working, I could barely do my hobbies or see my local friends, and simple everyday tasks like showering drained me of all my energy. When I was stuck in bed and could barely keep my eyes open for more than a few hours at a time, gossip was a welcome, low-effort distraction from the physical pain and fear that I might either have to put myself in thousands of dollars of medical debt or risk lifelong damage (or worse) from the blood loss.

I also found myself having groups of friends in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’m extremely introverted (even online, though less so than IRL), I have social anxiety, and the handful of times I have been “in” a group I was never really in it. I was always on the outskirts and usually just close to one or two people, max.

Regretfully, this set the stage for me to get caught up in the culture of rumors and speculation that permeates this fandom more than I think it has any other fandom I’ve been a part of.

Academically, I know about things like groupthink and tribalism, and I could see how those influenced the groups developing in the fandom, but I had no direct, personal experience with those phenomena. I think in conjunction with the other struggles I was dealing with, I ended up being incredibly susceptible to an us-versus-them mentality, which led me to feel justified in being unkind to people I knew had been unkind to my friends, even if deep down I knew what I was doing was antithetical to who I strive to be. 

I don’t share any of this for sympathy points or to smear anyone else or to avoid accountability–I still chose to act like an ass on a couple of occasions, and regardless of what I was going through, that was still inappropriate. I’m still responsible for my own behavior no matter what’s going on. 

But I do want to contextualize my fuck-ups for two reasons:

The first reason is ego-driven, full-stop. Not even gonna gloss it over. I can’t defend being an asshole nor do I want to, but I think it’s normal and healthy to look back on your mistakes and go, damn, why the hell was I acting like this? 

Even on my best days, I can be very stubborn and self-important and pedantic and judgemental, and I certainly can’t say that I’ve never inadvertently offended someone–Sometimes a joke might not land as I hoped. Sometimes I get tangled up in my own thoughts, burdened by an excess of nuance and details, and I express things poorly while I try to account for all sides of things. Sometimes I can get a little too opinionated about blorbo stuff. Sometimes there might just be a full communication breakdown or an insurmountable personality clash–But I can also confidently say that I have acted with good intentions in this fandom far, far more than I have with spite or because of petty rivalries.

And when I did get caught up in the drama and gossip and the wank? I was literally at the lowest point I’d been in a very, very long time. 

Again, because I feel like I can’t say this enough, that doesn’t make acting like a dick in a Discord server any more excusable, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt anyone, and that doesn’t mean that someone I hurt during that time has to forgive me or stick around for me to grow. Hurting someone because you’re hurting is still not okay. But I’m pretty sure every single one of us has had a bad day (or two or three or 365 or–) and made an isolated bad decision (or two or three or–) because of it–None of us deserve to be wholly defined by those moments or denied a chance to learn from those mistakes and be better.

And I think the most important takeaway for me personally is that I have learned from these mistakes and I have not repeated them. Some of these mistakes even helped me realize that I needed professional support for my mental health, and they played a role in my seeking medication and therapy last year. I still have a lot of work to do, but the silver lining to all of this is that I am in a much better place today than I was 2 years ago (even if this year also fucking sucks for non-fandom reasons and I would still very much like a goddamn break.)

The other reason I wanted to share my journey of navel-gazing and healing a wounded ego ~*self-discovery*~ is I think there’s a very good chance my story might sound familiar to others in the fandom. Maybe someone else can learn from my hardships and mistakes, too. Maybe you too were dealing with chronic fatigue or mental health issues or financial stress or isolation or all of the above and then some, and it led you to fixate on things that were harmful to you, to form unhealthy relationships with equally hurt people, and to act in a way that you know doesn't reflect who you are. The past several years have been so hard on so many of us, and I think we’ve all brought a lot of pain and misery into the community even if we weren’t trying to.

A somewhat shameful realization I had last year was I could recognize that kind of behavior in other people, but I completely missed it in myself. I could see how people were making this fandom their whole world and how it was so damaging to them, but I was doing the exact same thing and I just let it go completely unchecked because I thought I knew better. It was a brutal lesson in the pitfalls of pride. 

--------

So I was initially thinking at this point, I would take the time to address a few specific lies, rumors, and insinuations that have been said about me over the past couple of years. Because while I was a jerk in a couple of situations, most of the things said about me are exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.

And I did start writing a lot of that out, but as I was doing it, I was just overcome with a huge feeling of OH MY GOD I just don’t fucking care anymore. As one of my dear, long-time fandom friends has pointed out, there’s a great line about just this kind of thing from one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite games: “Why should it [bother me]? They don’t know me. I know me.”

I also really don’t want to run the risk of pulling anyone back into the fray (especially if they’re not even in the fandom anymore or if we’ve talked privately about certain issues) by even alluding to shit that happened years ago.

Instead, I would like to offer three of my big takeaways from the experience of being falsely accused of awful things:

You do not know nearly as much as you think you know about people’s fandom relationships. The one semi-specific thing I will mention is that I had been explicitly named a few times as being in cahoots with people I don’t think I ever even spoke to or that I had already drifted away from–Just because you saw two people existing in the same public space doesn’t mean they’re besties, bestie. Also, friends don’t always have to agree with each other, nor should we be expected to participate in a public spectacle of shaming if we do have a disagreement. People are allowed to resolve their differences privately.  

Not all conflicts/disagreements are inherently abusive or toxic. When you are hurting or dealing with unresolved trauma or starting to confront uncomfortable truths about yourself, the slightest disagreement can feel like a personal attack, but that doesn’t mean it is. Sometimes differences might be irreconcilable, but sometimes they might not be if you don’t automatically assume the worst of someone with a different perspective than you. Sometimes we just need to give the other person a little grace and the benefit of the doubt that they’re doing their best. And sometimes we might need to consider that it’s actually our own behavior driving the conflict and not the other person.

Even in situations when someone has clearly been unfairly targeted/victimized, that doesn’t mean they can’t also be a perpetrator of harassment/abuse to someone else. Victim and abuser are not mutually exclusive roles. I would wager a lot of us are familiar with the cyclical nature of abuse, and to quote a line from one of my favorite movies (admittedly a bit of a flippant line in the context of the film, but it still rings true): hurt people hurt people. Accountability for shitty behavior is never conditional, regardless of the pain we’re experiencing. 

--------

I titled this my final reflection, and I want to clarify what that means:

First of all, I’m not leaving this fandom (don’t everyone clap at once ha ha ha). I’ve been in various online fandoms since the early 00s, and while this has been one of the more challenging communities for me to navigate, it’s not enough to make me give up something I love this much. My blorbos are my perpetual muses, and I feel like virtual photography is the creative outlet I’ve been searching for my entire life. I love this game and hobby too much to stop creating and sharing.

I’m also not leaving Tumblr. While I’ve had this specific account since 2016, I’ve been here since 2010–Tumblr is not just this fandom for me. I have many friends (some I’ve known since my original account in 2010!) from other fandoms, and I’m not losing the best place to hang out with other people who are special to me just because one fandom got a little unpleasant. (I mean, look, I weathered the DA fandom here circa 2012-2015–This ain’t my first rodeo.) I also have a lot of hope for the Tumblr Communities feature, and I’m really hoping the VP community we’ve set up can continue to grow and flourish.

But I am no longer addressing any of this wank. If you have a problem with something I’ve done or said to you and you want to address it with me directly (preferably in a private space just so we don’t keep putting this shit on people’s dashboards), I am open to conversation and apologizing where needed.

Otherwise, this is the last time I’m talking about it anywhere. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, publicly, privately–I’m done. I’m washing my hands of it. I don’t want to hear anything else about what other people have done or who they’re friends with or who they’re following or what they’re saying about me or my friends or any of it. This bullshit has taken up too much of my time and energy, and I have very important smutty shots to take. 

And I am probably going to continue to be less active in the fandom on Tumblr, at least for a while. You probably won’t see me here much until September at the earliest. This time away has been really good for me, and I think I need to continue with limited Tumblring and making the time I am here more structured. Plus, with some of my other fave video game series returning this fall, my blog will probably shift back to a more well-balanced multi-fandom space. 

I’m also going to need to diversify my dash a little bit more, which means I will likely end up unfollowing some mutuals, particularly if we don’t interact often, if you don’t tag, or if I see any mention of fandom drama–It’s nothing personal, but I know breaking mutualship can hurt a little, so if following me after that makes you uncomfortable in any way, please don’t feel like you have to stick around. I totally get it. Similarly, if it would make you uncomfortable for me to continue to interact with your posts after unfollowing (because I probably will if you post in certain tags), please feel free to block me. 

Okay. Christ, that was long. Shut the fuck up already, right? This is why I can't do social media with character limits. ghdfjgjhkfdgkfdg

Seriously, though, that's it. People are welcome to comment on this post if they want, but I really have nothing else to say about any of this so please don’t be offended if I don’t reply. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just… Well, done.

[twice-in-a-blue-moon]

Last month I had my tubes removed for permanent birth control, how do you think the brothers and dateables would react to knowing there’s now no need for any protection? (Ps I love your writing)

The Brothers and Dateables Finding Out You Had Your Tubes Removed

Brothers and Dateables (separately) x GN! reader

AN: Hi! I hope you are healing well if you aren't already healed. Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: fem bodied reader but no pronouns are used otherwise, smut, creampies, overstimulation, a little bit of possession, a little bit of dumbification, begging, size kink if you squint, oral, multiple orgasms, teasing.

Minors DNI!

Lucifer

He’s mildly surprised but he’s not complaining.

He’s quite proud that you made a decision that’s best for you, he’s more than happy that you’re happy and comfortable in your body.

Lucifer’s always played it safe and used protection, and if you both decided to go without, he always made sure to pull out early so that there was little chance of anything happening.

So now that there is no risk of having any offspring, Lucifer will revel in the thought of cumming inside you. 

You’ll find yourself having more office sex with him, now that he doesn’t have to worry about keeping contraceptives outside of the bedroom. 

The rattles of the desk doors harmonizing nicely with your moans as he fills you up.

Mammon

“You had yer tubes removed? What kinda tubes were they? You didn’t mean water pipes did ya?”

Mammon’s not dumb, just didn’t understand what you meant at first. But after you explain, his eyes go wide.

He’s definitely excited about this new development in your sex lives, already thinking about the many ways he can cum in you.

He’s pretty possessive, so he’s been dreaming of claiming you with his cum.

No surface in his room will go untouched by the two of you the next time you have sex. The bed, the car, the pool table, you name it. 

He’ll end up overstimulating the two of you wanting to cum inside you over and over again.

Leviathan

Very relieved as he’s always been nervous of getting you pregnant, he’s not really the fatherly type. 

Levi wants to center his attention solely on his otaku lifestyle and you, he can’t exactly worship his faves (yes, you’re one of his faves <3) if he’s got a baby in his lap.

He’s watched a lot of hentai that includes creampies, he’s always wanted to try it and now here’s his chance! As long as you are okay with it obviously :)

Once he feels your soft walls around him without protection, it’s over for him. 

He’ll get pussy drunk feeling you release on his cock, and when he pulls out, he feels himself stiffen seeing his cum leak out of you, asking shyly if he can go again. It’s a vicious cycle that neither one of you care to break. 

Satan

The first thing Satan does is make sure you are healed or are healing properly. He’s come across this topic in some of his reads, so he wants to make sure you are taking care of yourself.

Much like Lucifer, Satan’s always been incredibly safe, he really doesn’t want a tinier ball of wrath wreaking havoc around the house.

So once you are healed, the long nights of true, unbarriered, skin-to-skin pleasure begin.

He basks in the warm feeling of you around him, adoring the way you mewl for him to fill you up, on the brink of bliss yourself.

He’ll kiss you passionately as he finishes inside you, like the true, love making gentleman he is. 

Asmodeus

Asmo knew that you weren’t interested in having children, so he’d been incredibly vigilant in making sure that nothing of the sort happens, especially with how often you two have sex.

He’s thrilled to hear the news, knowing it’ll make you happier. Not only that, but he’s excited to feel all of you properly now- without protection or the looming threat of conception as he takes you raw. 

He wants you to feel every unadulterated ridge and vein, and he wants to feel the soft, velvety clench of your walls around him.

Since this is the first time (of many) that he’ll be cumming inside you, he wants to take his time- there’s no rush.

It’s deep and slow, tender and loving as he thrusts his release deep inside you, feeling the way your own high gushes around his dick.

Beelzebub

I don’t think Beel would be incredibly reactionary either way, but he’s certainly supportive of your decision.

He’s another one that has taken many precautions as he knew how you felt about having kids.

He won’t rush into cumming inside you right away. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t want to cross any boundaries. 

But once you reassure him that it’s okay, he’ll give you everything he’s got, watching your lower tummy bulge as he pushes his thick cock deep as he fills you up.

And once he pulls out, he’ll begin to lap up your combined juices, loving the way your tastes mix nicely and the way you squirm overstimulated. 

Belphegor

This man is also relieved that you got your tubes removed. Does not want to be a dad, he’s too tired to take care of something that small.

He’ll rest with you as you recover from your procedure.

After you’ve healed, he’ll pull you into his lap and ask you to ride him. 

You feel so good and warm around him, and he’ll never tire of watching you bounce yourself on his cock.

After you’ve both reached your orgasms you’ll lift off of him, his cum dripping out of you, down his shaft. The mere sight rousing him more. 

Diavolo

He’s very happy for you! Though he is a tad bit bummed that he won’t be able to make a family with you, but there’s plenty of other options to having children, and he’s happy that you did what’s best for you.

This man adores you, he’s wanted to cum inside you for so long, wanted to give you all of him.

The next time the two of you are intimate, expect Diavolo to prepare such a romantic setting.

Rose petals on the bed, chilled wine on the table, soft lighting, and sensual music playing in the background. 

He’ll bring you to orgasm multiple times as he fucks you the way you like, painting your walls white as he does.

Barbatos

This man does not have the time for children, so he’s glad you made the decision to get your tubes removed. 

He’ll take care of you as you heal, you couldn’t ask for better love and treatment.

Barb’s pretty indifferent to finishing inside you, but he’ll do so if you ask him too.

He’s content with just having an intimate moment with you, enjoying having you so close to him after a long day.

But he’ll make sure you enjoyed the experience after finishing inside. He’ll try to move so that he can clean you up, but finds it hard to leave as you pulsate deliciously around him. 

Simeon

He’s so supportive of you. And don’t worry, there’s no need for children when you have Luke!

He’s never really given thought to releasing inside of you though, he’s just enjoyed your love making sessions with a barrier between you, being so close and becoming one like that was enough.

When you tell him you want him to go without, he’s a combination of excited and nervous. Excited to give you all he is, nervous that it’ll end up an awkward experience.

He builds both of you up to incredible highs through his tantric form of sex.

It’s heavenly, to truly feel each other is wonderful. The way you take his seed and the way you feel as you release is unforgettable. 

Solomon

He’s pleased that you made this decision, your comfort is important to him. 

And as much as he would like to start a family with you, he can’t bear the thought of watching his own flesh and blood die before him. So it’s for the best.

But as soon as you tell him, he’s already thinking devious. He wants to watch you take his cock as he fills you up. 

And he makes good on those fantasies, listening to you beg and squeal for him to cum inside you. It strokes his little ego.

He’ll give you what you want after teasing you, struggling to keep his usual composure with the way you milk him for all he’s worth. 

[terrence-silver]

Is Terry the type to baby trap his beloved or would he just let it happen

---

Depends vastly of the circumstances.

He adapts.

Ideally, I feel Terry would, much like anyone else under the sun pretty much, deeply want for his partner to want to have his children more than anything else. To thank him for the opportunity. To be grateful. To look forward to it with every ounce of their being. Heck, to even beg, if possible, so he can relish the act, the attention and the supremacy he has over another living person being so enamored with him. He wants to draw that out of them. Incentify them. Inspire them. Be the only man they'd ever conceive having offspring with. But, if push came to shove, and they were hesitating, showing signs of being willing to slip away from his grasp somewhere in the near or distant future (ha-ha, nice try), giving out mixed signals, being hot and then cold? Not being dedicated enough to him and a future legacy? Hey, extreme situations require extreme measures, right? And this extreme situation calls upon him to do just do what he wants to do and simply impregnate beloved and ensure they're tied to him permanently, one way or another, seeing as how he ain't willing to relinquish something he desires and covets. He's gonna secure beloved one way or another, morality flying out the window. He relishes in either outcome, you see --- be it consensual in nature or of more dubious circumstances, because it's all sport either ways and whatever the method, however dark, however disturbed, he'll come out victorious. On top.

The ends justify the means, after all.

Of course, he can very easily use the oldest trick in the book and humbly state that a slip up happened and that --- boom --- beloved ended up pregnant seeing as how they weren't diligent enough to mutually take good care; simply something that happens in the heat of the moment and the height of passion and beloved does makes him oh so passionate, he might say (something that isn't a lie whatsoever, nonetheless, it's a serviceable tool to sell this story believably) --- still, it's hilarious that a control oriented perfectionist and micromanager like Terry would ever subscribe to accidents and overlooking something so crucial, regardless, he'll gaslight, he'll sweetly manipulate, he'll convince, he'll blame the fact that beloved makes him so horny that contraceptives just became an afterthought for a moment there and it's all a big part of his baby trapping scheme. To hide the fact this wasn't an innocent slip up and that he very much planned this all along; a need that only gets stronger and more pronounced as Terry Silver ages, I feel. He might think he's old and that as such, he's willing to lie, cheat and scam if it means securing himself at least an ounce of happiness by any means necessary as fast as possible, because time's running out and he's back is against the wall and that's bullshit. He doesn't like his back against the wall. He bites when he's against the wall. It's now or never. All the stars aligned. Love and desire and that one chance he's not gonna let go, becoming more insidious and unpredictable than ever.

But that is, he's just as willing to gloat over what he's done.

I think he cannot resist gloating (which is often this man's downfall).

It's in his nature to highlight the perverse and evil things he's done.

Enjoy himself while doing it.

Beloved might be there with their newborn and Terry could very well be barely containing himself from just looking them straight in the eye and telling them that he's done what he's done because it was pre-planned that it would pan out like this all along because he always gets what he wants the way he wants it. Heck, the idea alone makes him hard with absolute rotten glee.