#in the past i was used to afab/amab only really being used when it was relevant to the convo

[fabulouslygaybean]

i reeeaaaally hate how the trans community has circled back to perpetuating yet another gender binary with afab/amab. it's like we've done a 180 and all of a sudden trans people are basing their opinions of other trans people on their fucking genitals, just like transphobic cis folk do but in a different, more "progressive" flavor

[lorelune]

O4O: part i

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega for omega, soft smut || wc: 10.3k  || ao3 ||

Jing Yuan has been content riding out his heats alone for centuries. You, despite being another omega, are happy to lend a hand if Jing Yuan will have you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

💦🎀 this piece is apart of SPRING FEVER: an omegaverse collab! 🎀💦

part i (here) — part ii — part iii (coming soon!)

notes: hello omega jing yuan omega jing yuan save me... the way omega jy has haunted me for months. MONTHS. this fic is incredibly indulgent soft, needy smut with non-traditional a/b/o dynamics. THANK YOU to the lovely @owlespresso for beta reading!! please read the tags and enjoy!! <3

CW: a/b/o dynamics, omega jing yuan (with afab and amab anatomy), omega reader (afab anatomy), past yingxing/jing yuan/dan feng, bottom jing yuan flavors (though reader does not do any penetration), use of toys, worldbuilding around omegaverse, lots of biting, milfy jing yuan, mommy kink without the word mommy (at least not in this part 👀💗!!),

Jing Yuan has not shared his heat with anyone in a very, very long time. Centuries, most certainly. Jing Yuan doesn’t find it very useful to keep track of that length of time— he finds it cumbersome if anything. There’s no use holding onto a past that only forces him to redigest pain. 

Jing Yuan rarely has heats. He keeps a diligent schedule of medication and only has to go through them once every decade or so. Occasionally less, if the Luofu is passing a particular star system or comet field. His heats are always cumbersome. He can conceal his omegan sensibilities often, but it is more difficult prior to a heat.

Preheat is a different beast.

When Jing Yuan sequesters himself in his estate for the better part of a week, anyone who knows he’s even there assumes it is to go through a rut. A week is a standard amount of time to take off for a rut and is expected. However, a heat has a standard time off of about two and a half weeks. Much longer to accommodate preheat and nesting needs. 

Jing Yuan rarely indulges his own. 

The Luofu, at large, assumes he is an alpha. This is manufactured, however only partially. Generally, the citizens of the Luofu assume, given that he is the General and he has a larger, broad-shouldered stature, that he is an Alpha through and through. He always wears scent patches in public, which is normal for both omegas and alphas. Betas, too, occasionally. Depending on the subtype. The Charioteers know that he is an omega, but they are committed to some amount of discretion and guard the information as a secret. Lady Fu, an alpha, will occasionally scold him for being so secretive. Like he harbors some sort of self-hatred that he is an omega. 

It is simply more convenient for him to be seen as an alpha. Jing Yuan doesn’t wish to disturb this perception.

And therefore, it is much easier to wait as long as possible between heats and bear them alone. Whatever instincts he has can be satiated with toys and a half-decent nest. Jing Yuan has always considered this enough. ‘Enough’. 

(It’s not sating. Jing Yuan cannot lie to himself about this. He remembers laying with Yingxing, and how the alpha made him feel more full and content than Jing Yuan had ever thought possible during a heat. Or ever, truthfully. He remembers how calming Dan Feng’s presence had been— grounding and reassuring, too. Jing Yuan was fucked, filled and protected. An omega’s dream.)

Jing Yuan... copes with what he has. A large, plush bed with a downy mattress, a few donated, alpha-scented garments, and a collection of inflatable, knotting toys. He always leaves his heat with lingering cramps, a brutalized hole, and a yearning that takes a few weeks to quiet itself. 

It is natural that he craves his mates. Even if they are long dead (not dead. Not really. Not the same as they once were, anyway.)

And certainly, never to be his again. The mating mark on his neck has long faded.

Jing Yuan tracks his heat so such yearning can be anticipated and planned for. He knows when his heat is approaching, down to the specific day it will occur. He titrates off his suppressants carefully, and maps out a portion of time off for himself a year or so in advance. 

Which is why it is very odd that he starts exhibiting preheat symptoms in the middle of the day, a random day, during a tactical meeting.

Even if he had been titrating down his dose in anticipation for a planned heat in a few months time, it is far, far too early to begin feeling symptoms. The familiar itchiness prickling under his skin is entirely unexpected. Jing Yuan has to put a particularly large amount of effort to get through this unnecessary meeting without letting a single symptom slip. He can only adjust in his seat so many times before it is improper, or juggle the cradle of his jaw from one hand to the other before it is clear something is wrong. 

If any of the Charioteers and their advisers notice anything amiss with him, they say nothing. The only one who looks off-put is Fu Xuan. She’s a spitfire alpha herself, and perhaps she’s keen enough to notice that Jing Yuan is beginning to feel... unwell. Though he is masking his scent as he always does, he imagines that the flush in his cheeks is becoming increasingly obvious.

Fu Xuan gives Jing Yuan a wary look as the meeting is dismissed.

“General,” She says curtly. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” He gives her a rich laugh as he stands, muffling a groan as his stiff back and knees ache. He’d sat for too long. He feels light-headed as he rights himself and Fu Xuan glares at him.

“I doubt that,” Fu Xuan huffs. “I will not interrogate you in public, nor do I think you would give me an honest answer even if I did—”

“So little trust in me, Master Diviner—”

“ However, I will urge you to go home. ” She takes a step closer and sniffs the air. It’s just the two of them in the meeting room now, the rest of the parties in attendance having filtered out. Subtly and without fanfare, she takes his hand in her own, and presses her wrist to his. Jing Yuan keeps an easy grin on his face but can’t help the way he tenses his fingers, flexing them at the contact. “Do you need an escort?”

“Is Lady Fu worrying for me? How kind.”

“I’m— not, ” Fu Xuan huffs now and more roughly smears their wrists together. The scent gland she is almost abusing is swollen and hot to the touch. It takes all of his composure not to squirm with her treatment. “I’m no fool. If you have a heat starting, you should be comfortable at home, not in a war room.”

“Master Diviner, you think I’m an omega?” Jing Yuan says with a smile. He knows she is already privy to this, but he can’t resist teasing her a bit.

“You are insufferable. Even in this state. Go home. I will take you there myself.”

“I’m afraid I can’t return home just yet,” He hums. He imagines he has a few hours before proper pre-heat sets in. “I have a lunch date that I cannot miss.”

“You— a lunch date?”

“Yes, of course. It’s a scheduled event, dear Diviner.”

“Do not patronize me.”

Jing Yuan laughs as she fumes. He has the urge to ruffle her hair, but thinks better of it. The complicated updo would surely be ruffled, and Jing Yuan is already getting an earful as it is. 

“I would never.”

Fu Xuan yanks her arm away with a growl. She wears some type of masking perfume, she always has, but with her frustration swirling, a bit of her actual scent peaks through. It’s light on the back of his tongue, floral almost. Nearly inedible, but the kind of scent Jing Yuan that makes him nostalgic—

(For a master with a scent like frost-covered roses, and a packmate with a scent filled with springtime lilac blossoms in fat clusters.)

“If this lunch is really so necessary, may I escort you there at least? Or will your alpha be meeting you here?”

“They’re not an alpha.” Jing Yuan hums. His stomach feels warm regardless. “And I’ll be just fine getting there myself.”

Fu Xuan looks at him, questioningly. Her lips open, then close once more. There are questions she clearly has. And for all her brashness and hot-blooded fervor, she understands decorum better than most. She pries out of care and her good intentions, and Jing Yuan can respect that if nothing else.

“I’ll concede,” Fu Xuan sighs. “ However, please let me know if there’s anything else you need. You have my number.”

“Noted.” Jing Yuan rises, and feels the heat clouding his head sink lower in his body. He’s being engulfed. 

Fu Xuan deadpans, “General—”

“Have a good rest of your day, Master Diviner,” He calls with a light laugh, slipping away before Fu Xuan can give him any further grief.

...

As the Arbiter General of the Luofu, Jing Yuan knows its streets and secrets very well. There’s more than one way to arrive at his favored terrace garden without being seen or smelt by the public. It is helpful that this path is lined near an aqueduct stream, surrounded by lush greenery and clumps of fragrant azure asters. This path is tucked away, straddling an external tunnel of the Luofu’s inner tunnels. Really, only the Calibrators aboard the ship use it, and as there are only a few and they tend to keep to their delve, Jing Yuan has very little fear walking this way at his own leisure.

He is glad you tend to take your lunch dates in the privacy of this particular garden, under the gazebo and nestled atop its many silken blankets and pillows. A conventional restaurant in this state would be doable, but unideal. 

Jing Yuan can smell you as he approaches. It makes him pause, just outside the gate. His hands hovers over his jade abacus as he opens his mouth to taste you in the back of his mouth.

(Warm, a familiar scent that he associates with the rare indulgence of relaxation. It’s not overly sweet or ripe, but balanced and full-bodied. Not quite floral or fruity, and not deep enough to be akin to an aged black tea. Perhaps like the roll of a hearth or the beeswax of a lit candle.)

He’s sighs. It calms him instantly. 

Even if you aren’t an alpha, you are familiar, as is the current setting.

You’re sitting at a low table in the shade of the gazebo. There are several plates of cheeses, cut fruits, salted meats, and nuts laid out. You’re ladling sticky honey into a small dish as he enters, and look up at the sound of the gate closing.

You smile when you see him.

“General,” You smile. “I apologize, I started setting up lunch without you. Everything should still be chilled.”

“No need to be sorry,” he laughs gently, brushing a hand against your shoulder before rounding the table, and taking a seat across from you. “I could never complain about your diligence. You have chosen quite the spread today, haven’t you?”

You flush with a nod, and gesture down to the table, “The markets were lovely today, I had to splurge. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

“Only if you do the same.”

“I-I can do that,” You smile at him softly.

Despite your familiarity, you still regard him with some amount of anxiety. Jing Yuan has long since placed this has less to do with his status as General, and more than likely due to a deepened amount of affection that Jing Yuan... entertains. Enjoys. Thrives off of, even. He perhaps returns it, though he hasn’t told you that explicitly.

Besides, you believe him to be an alpha. He’s sure that, if you did know his secondary gender, such affections would fade quickly. The allure of what he could provide as an alpha is quite different from what he can provide as an omega.

Jing Yuan takes a sip of sparkling juice, and as he lowers the thin-necked glass, you look at him strangely. A crease knits itself between your brows.

“Did I get some on my face?” Jing Yuan chuckles and wipes at the corners of his mouth with his thumb.

“No... you just,” You stumble with your words, hands flexing in your lap. “Are... are you alright? Your cheeks look quite warm, and you’re sweating around your hairline.” 

You always have been keen to bodies other than your own. It’s not the most common trait. 

“... Am I?” Jing Yuan could choose to lie at this moment. It would be easy to say he was using a new brand of suppressants, or blame it on a stressful day. However, he doesn't like lying to you, only twisting the truth when entirely necessary. “I do suppose I’m at that point in my cycle.”

“Oh!” You startle and sit up more straight. You push a plate at him. “Pre-rut? You should eat, then. You’ll need your strength. Do— do you have someone I can call? I don’t mind.”

Your worry is cute. 

Jing Yuan can’t help thinking about it. You are an omega full of so much care and urge to help. Jing Yuan has seen it and experienced it many times, and has also seen how it has gotten you into unfortunate situations. You have a trusting mind and spirit, and more than once, it has been used against you. 

Jing Yuan likes keeping you close, so he can look after you, even if it’s from a distance.

He stares down at the plate. There’s a pile of glistening orange grapes, a few roses of sliced, cured meats, a chunk of honeycomb, and buttery looking crackers. It does look delicious, however Jing Yuan has always struggled to eat in his pre-heat. When he looks up at you to decline, your expression looks even more worried, almost sour.

Before he can speak, you are. Petal-soft lips lips downturned. “Are you... not in pre-rut, General?”

He deflates, slightly. He is old— and. He does not wish to steer you away from what is a correct assumption. You are his most trusted companion.

“I am not,” He says softly, and picks up one of the grapes. He squeezes. The skin is taut and tight. “And, please call me Jing Yuan. Formalities can be dropped, yes?”

“I— yes, of course.” You look from his plate to him. “So, you’re... pre-heat?”

“I am, yes.”

“Oh!” You immediately heap his plate with several other kinds of fruit, and grab a clean glass and pour ice water from a pitcher into it. “I apologize— for. Making such an assumption.”

“No need to apologize.” He soothes and lays a hand over yours. “I’m aware of what the vast majority of the Luofu assumes my secondary gender to be. It does not bother me. If it did, I would have corrected the greater public long ago. I apologize for not telling you directly until now.”

“It’s— okay,” you reply. Perhaps a bit hurt. “I never asked. I just— I just thought. Wrong.”

(Please be kinder to yourself, he thinks. It hurts to see you saddened on my account.)

“Nonsense,” he laughs and gracefully takes the water you offer. He downs the glass down his parched throat. He— hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. “No harm done. If anything, I’m grateful that you now know.”

(Regardless of how it could change your feelings toward him.)

Jing Yuan has tempered heartbreak for millenia. Another one— is not nothing, but it is manageable. Perhaps not during preheat, but he still has time to mourn. 

“I’m glad too,” you tell him, and squeeze back his hand. You only scent him sometimes, always so shy about it, but now you firmly rub the scent gland in your wrist against his. His aches, and the sensation and exchange of pheromones nearly makes him wheeze. He straightens his spine. 

“Was that—?” You almost pull away.

“No, it’s very welcome.”

You stare at him, intent and soft, before settling. Tentatively, you rub at the gland in gentle circles.

“You should eat,” you say after a moment. “Do you have an alpha I can call? Or— um, anything you need me to pick up for you?”

“I am fine.” Jing Yuan will text Qingzu for the essentials, rather than troubling you. “I’ll finish lunch with you, and then see myself home.”

“... No alpha to pick you up?”

“None to speak of, no.” Jing Yuan manages a smile.

(It has been— centuries since Jing Yuan had an alpha to care for and stake a claim on him. The notion of finding another has been put out of his mind since he himself had to confine Dan Feng to the Shackling Prison and exile the man Yingxing became. Even after meeting them as they are today, Jing Yuan knows they are no longer his mates.)

“Oh.” 

Every one of your emotions is so clearly on your face. You look so sad for him and you squeeze his hand. He has half a mind to pull away, and remind you that he does not need your worry. However, he is in pre-heat, and by Lan, he is craving worry.  

“And... heatmates?” You ask. “I don’t want to pry, but it’s hard to spend a heat alone.”

“Once again, none.” Jing Yuan replies without hesitating. The silence that follows is poignant as you study him. 

“I see.” You frown again, clearly thinking. Jing Yuan can see the thoughts turning around just behind your eyes. You pile on even more fruits to his plate. “Eat, eat. You need it.”

“This much fruit will give me a stomach ache, I fear.”

“Some of it, at least!” You huff at him. “For me, please?”

Jing Yuan meets your gaze, easy and soft. There’s no threat, only the heat that matches your scent and the feel that radiates in his chest.

(You are not his alpha. You are something entirely different— something that he wants so badly to hold.)

“For you.”

...

By the end of lunch (in which, Jing Yuan does manage to eat a decent amount of the fruit you’d put on his plate), Jing Yuan’s pre-heat has begun to simmer into a more uncomfortable territory. He desperately wants to shed his uniform and armor, and slip into a robe and no bottoms. He hasn’t begun to slick yet, but he will surely start to by sundown.

Jing Yuan stands after the meal, stretching. It’s proper afternoon now, and the birds of the garden chirp eveningsong. 

“Jing Yuan?” You ask as he stretches his arms above his head. His name sounds lovely in your mouth.

He hums, “Yes?”

“Do you want a heatmate?” You ask quietly. 

He looks at you. 

You’re fiercely meeting his gaze, even though you’re clearly struggling to. Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth, and you’re fighting a frown from the crinkles on your forehead. Regardless, you stand your ground and ask a question that is surely difficult to broach, especially so directly.

“I—I am offering.” You stammer. “To clarify.”

“To be my heatmate?”

“Yes— I hate to think of you suffering alone, Jing Yuan. If I can be by your side to ease it, if only a little, I would like to be.”

“That is very brave of you to ask.” He smiles with a tilt of his head. “And bold.”

“I— I’m being honest.” You almost whine. It’s so cute. “Is that a no?”

“No, not at all.” Jing Yuan replies. “However, I wouldn’t want you to help solely for my benefit. If you wish to enter my nest exclusively to be an aid, and not out of... personal wants, I would feel guilty.”

“It’s— it’s personal wants too.”

“... Is it now?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Even though I’m not an alpha, as you thought?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain.”

“ Yes, Jing Yuan.” 

“I cannot give you a knot—”

“I do not need one!” You break, much to Jing Yuan’s amusement. “I am happy to be by your side, regardless of that! If anything, I’m more than happy to share a nest with you without the assurance of a limp and a potential pup.”

Jing Yuan smiles, almost unrestrained, and your cheeks heat deliciously. 

You stammer, and poke at his chest, “You’re teasing me—!”

“I apologize, you must forgive me—”

“ Rude—!”

Your bury your face in his chest and nuzzle there. It’s— clearly a self soothing action, one you realize a moment too late isn’t quite proper. You stiffen, beginning to draw away, before Jing Yuan catches you by your scruff and holds you there. 

“You’re alright,” He holds a wide palm there. “I apologize for teasing you. I mean so warmly.”

“... Scoundrel.” The sound muffles into his chest.

“Am I?”

You peer up at him, so warm in the cheeks and eyes... almost watery. Something in his chest feels sticky and molten. 

“ Yes—” You dare to meet his eyes again. “But, one I’m very fond of.”

Jing Yuan steels himself.

You are an omega. It is not your pheromones addling his mind. There is clarity in the attraction and affection he has for you, one not influenced by the urge to be knotted and bred. Though, Jing Yuan wants that, maybe part of him needs it. There is a trunk full of toys and implements he has tucked away that will sate the urge. The feelings that he carries for you will not so easily be placated.

“I would like it very much if you were to share my heat with me,” He speaks softly, just for the two of you to hear. Not even the garden birds will know his words. “If you are still offering.”

“Yes,” You say quickly, tentatively wrapping your arms around his waist. “Yes.”

He chuckles, easy and low, and presses his nose into your hair. Perhaps it’s pre-heat, making him sentimental and mushy. He usually hides out and bears it alone in his comfiest nest so these feelings typically do not get expressed in any other way other than delirious, anguished cries while a knotting toy takes the edge off. 

Jing Yuan finds these are nice to indulge, as your scent envelopes him.

...

“I lied earlier,” Jing Yuan says as you enter the threshold of his estate. “I apologize sincerely.”

“Oh?” You ask with a tilt of your head, accepting a pair of house slippers eagerly. “... What about?”

“I am in pre-heat unexpectedly. Though I have been tapering suppressants for an anticipated heat, it has come far earlier than planned . Things are... not as I would like them. You’ll need to excuse me for a few moments.”

Jing Yuan, like any omega, is particular about his home and nest, especially around his heat. He knows his home and inner chambers are not to his liking and he’ll need to prepare them. Even if you aren’t an alpha entering his nest, you are a guest and companion he is very fond of. You deserve only the best.

“Of course, whatever you need,” you assure him. “Do you need me to grab anything while you do so? I don’t mind running to the market—”

Jing Yuan turns on his heel, grabbing your arm firmly, “You’re not leaving.”

“O-Oh.”

Your eyes widen, and heat rises in your cheeks. Your throat bobs as you swallow and nod. Jing Yuan— were he not in pre-heat, would perhaps be a bit embarrassed by his brazeness. However, now? The idea of you leaving his home sends him reeling. You cannot leave— not until you smell like him and his nest. Not until— not until this is over.

“I sent a request to Qingzu to fetch us a few things during the walk over. She’ll be here shortly. I do, however, have a bowl of fruit that could be cut up while I get myself sorted. How does that sound?” 

You nod eagerly, happy to follow instruction. Jing Yuan knows this about you and enjoys it thoroughly.

He sets you up in the kitchen with a bowl of sunsiettas, a box of meldberries, and a few bunches of perfectly ripe, round kaishen grapes. Jing Yuan leaves you to the task, which he can already tell you will do dutifully. You thrive off of praise and direction. It’s a dangerous trait of an omega to carry, even more terrifying to hold openly as you do. Jing Yuan knows it has burned you before.

However, he intends to indulge you well and kindly, as it pleases him very much.

His mind, far-too warm and itchy, yearns to spin fantasies as he locks himself in his room with a shake of his head. 

He must keep it together. Just for awhile longer. His bed is— not a nest. Not the nest he wants (needs) it to be. His duvet, thick and luxurious as it is, needs a fluffing and a fresh scenting. His pillows are not arranged to his liking, and he needs to poke through his linen closet and add some extra layers as well. He needs to make sure there’s lube nearby with clean toys. Water out. His phone charged and volume on— (though, he already sent a message to Qingzu stating his heat has hit and he’ll be out for at least a week. ‘Defer to Diviner Fu :3’ , which is Jing Yuan’s payment to Lady Fu for the list of errands he had sent her.)

Jing Yuan shakes his head with a laugh. The little alpha will certainly be pleased when she hear she’ll get to play General for a while. 

Pre-heat drives him forward. He sheds his many layers (without aid, which is objectively a headache and he regrets not asking you for assistance initially. However, Jing Yuan is fairly certain that if he were to be fully bare around you, regardless of his pre- heat or not, he may jump you and drag you into his nest—)

Pre-heat is also making him somewhat irrational.  

He throws on his favored robe, a silken, cream-colored garment with delicate gold and red embroidery around the hems. The sleeves drape at his wrists and a sash ties it snugly around his waist. The itch that’s been rolling around just under his skin feels duller, with the less restrictive garment. The fabric crosses over his chest in a way that is... revealing. Probably too revealing, under any other circumstance, especially given that you have never seen him in anything less than his daily regalia. 

The thought of looking so indecent around you has its allure to it. One that Jing Yuan lets himself entertain with a smitten smile as he works.

He is attracted to you, surely. This he knows and has known. 

Jing Yuan acknowledges that this is both emotional and physical. You are dear to him, truly. In a way that is unique to any of the connections, he holds in the present. Your presence is one he thoroughly enjoys, and, more than once, (many times), has craved during his late-evening ruminations in his courtyard. He— has thought about inviting you over, if for nothing else than a chat in the moonlight and tea or wine to your preference, however—

He has always stopped himself.

Yearning, he will allow in the ways he has learned to manage it over the centuries. Small doses of longing that can be enjoyed and swallowed down, without festering. Being brazen with his wants and feelings is... slipperier. Especially concerning you, as you are dear to him, and Jing Yuan, for better or for worse, would like to share space with you for as long as he can manage. 

This attraction is regardless of secondary gender. 

Jing Yuan has not cared about secondary gender for a great while (since he shared a bed with a short-lived alpha and one of Long’s Scions, who, like all Vidyadhara, did not have a secondary gender at all.) 

Your presentation as an omega was never a deterrent to him. If anything, it was something of a comfort. Jing Yuan was claimed long ago, and he knows that no alpha’s claim will feel the same as Yingxing’s and he wouldn’t want anyone, especially you, to attempt to emulate it. The ownership of a claim was not something he sought. Jing Yuan has had his heart broken enough for this lifetime. He is sure you could rend his heart asunder, however it would not be in the way of losing a mate that he is biologically tied to. 

Statistically, Jing Yuan is lucky that such a loss did not cause him to become Mara struck five hundred years ago.

He is very content with whatever your relationship could become. If nothing else, the prospect of it allures him. Especially now that you know his presentation and clearly seem undeterred yourself. If— if anything. Your scent calmed and cooled when he’d told you on the terraces. 

Another thing that Jing Yuan will have to parse when he isn’t so wet that he’s leaving puddles in his wake. 

For now, Jing Yuan’s nest is satisfactory aside from a few personal items. 

Now, all it’s missing is you. 

...

Jing Yuan does not find you in the kitchen, but rather the foyer, wishing Qingzu a goodbye with a wave and shout. 

Jing Yuan must—

(Temper his instincts because you are far too close to the door and you need to be in his nest and his teeth need to be in you and his scent on you—)

“Jing Yuan,” you say to him warmly, with a smile. There are a few canvas bags on your arms. “How are you feeling—?”

Jing Yuan can’t stop himself from dragging you away from the tall set of doors and back to the kitchen. You squawk at his firmness, but don’t reject his touch. He helps you heft the bags onto a low table. His own arms shake, with both the strain and his own heat-induced weakness.

“It’s really progressing, huh?” You tentatively raise a hand, and place it on his forearm to stroke there.

Jing Yuan practically purrs when you rub over the silken fabric, “It is. Quickly. However, my nest and appropriate supplies are ready. Did Qingzu deliver all that I asked?”

“It seems so.”

There are— three more bottles of lube. A few pearly-looking medicine pills, a specialty item from the Alchemy Commission. Several stacks of ready-made meals and electrolyte powder. There are several vials of milky-looking oils he had her grab for more scandalous purposes as Jing Yuan would like to avoid any type of friction abrasion. Lastly, there are few unmarked boxes with new toys.

“You’re so well-prepared.” Your eyes are wide as you take stock of the haul. Jing Yuan bundles things into a basket and ushers you to his nest.

“I have gone through many heats,” he chuckles. “I have learned the best tricks.”

“I-I can see.”

As you enter his bedroom, you stare at his nest with wide eyes. You jump when Jing Yuan locks the door.

“... Is that alright?” Jing Yuan asks.

“Yes, yes, of course. I just—” You swallow. “I haven’t ever helped another omega through a heat. If you have any pointers or preferences, let me know while you’re still in your full mind, please? I’d like to make this as comfortable for you as possible.”

Jing Yuan thinks for a moment. With a tilt of his head, he rests his hands on your shoulders. Your scent is spiced, a bit nervous, but also undeniably aroused. Your gaze darts down to his exposed collarbones and chest, then quickly back up to his eyes. Heat rises fiercely in your cheeks. 

“Your presence will be helpful in and of itself,” he assures you with a squeeze. Carefully, he hooks his thumbs on your outer garment and pulls it down, undoing buttons and ties along the way. Your lips part, breath hot. “I’ll guide you as I need. My heats tend to be mild, though they do last a full week. There will be lulls, which I tend to be quite worn out during. I’ll need your assistance more than anything.”

You nod, taking in his response. 

Jing Yuan— he’s holding it together. Slick is beginning to drip down his inner thighs and there’s an ache in his core that feels heavier and hotter by the minute. However, he does want to do this part slowly. He prides himself on his patience. Piece by piece, he takes off your day clothes and tosses them into his nest. Without them, your scent is stronger. Your neck is bare from any topical or adhesive blockers.

“During the rest of it though?” You ask, softly. “When you’re in the throes of it.”

Jing Yuan hums, letting a shaking hand rest on the curve of your waist, “I’m not certain. It’s been quite some time since I’ve shared a heat with anyone.”

“... Really?”

“Yes.” Jing Yuan presses his lips to your forehead without thinking. The heat of it, of you, sinks into his own. He feels like he’s going to burn up. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” You answer, and push yourself closer to his neck. Your lips part to taste his scent on the back of your tongue. “You are a catch. I know you have quite the lineup of suitors... I just assumed.“

“You also assumed I was an alpha.”

“The General is a skillful liar.”

Jing Yuan clicks his tongue, sliding a hand below your last garments. Satin, lacey things that are almost sheer. Thin. He could tear them easily, but doesn’t. His touch lingers.

“ Jing Yuan,” he reminds you. You stammer before pitching into him. He carefully walks the two of you backwards. His legs are close to giving out. “And I’d like to think of it as a skillful withholding of unnecessary information.”

“ Jing Yuan is very good with his words,” You murmur into the soft skin of his neck, lingering around one of the scent glands there. They ache, sore and unstimulated.

So carefully, you stretch up on your tiptoes to nose at one of them. Your scents bloom together and his eyes almost roll back into his head at the meld of it, the relief and rush of connection. 

It’s the last push Jing Yuan needs before dragging you into his nest with a stifled moan. Coherency is shattered and all he can do is crave, crave, crave.

...

You are a good heatmate.

Astoundingly good. Attentive, kind, and so soft. It’s a relief to Jing Yuan, who’s heat-addled mind is so used to loneliness and cold. You do not have the scent or knot of an alpha, but you’re more than enough. It’s presence and comfort in a way Jing Yuan so, so missed. It’s enough in a different way— and that difference is good. 

(You are not Yingxing or Dan Feng, and Jing Yuan is grateful that you aren’t.)

Jing Yuan finds himself on his back, with you wrapped around him. You let him pillow his cheek against your collarbone. His nose presses against your scent gland, and he pants against it with an open mouth and spit slicked lips. Your hand lays over his chest, cupping his breast while gently thumbing over his nipple. He’s so swollen there, aching.

He cries out as you pinch, as if it could relieve any of the pressure roiling around under his skin.

You curl closer into him with your lips against his temple. “Does that feel good?”

He can only keen and hope you understand that it’s a plea for more. 

You must because a moment later you’re squeezing with your entire hand. It’s— too big of a handful for you. Your fingers are soft and your touch gentle. The visual of the plump flesh of his chest bulging out from between your fingers rewires Jing Yuan’s brain for a craving he never knew possible. A rush of slick gushes from his cunt and— it’s so much. He lurches into your neck, licking blindly at your scent gland. Vaguely, he notices you stiffen and your scent grows a little sharper. 

It’s worry. Jing Yuan can’t have that.

With every ounce of his strength, Jing Yuan rolls you below him, and sits on your hips. You let him, so pliant and agreeable, and lay below him. Jing Yuan’s breath catches and drool slips to the corners of his mouth.

You are beautiful. You look debauched, and you’re not the one in heat. You’re flushed and damp with sweat, just as he is. The robe he’d draped you in is mostly open, revealing supple skin and your last bastion of modesty in the form of a cute pair of panties that Jing Yuan will fantasize about later. 

You look up at him in awe, lust-hazed just like him. There’s little composure to be had as your fists ball up in the sheets around his thighs. Your gaze goes glassy as you look from his face down to where he’s seated atop you and back again.

“No teeth,” he assures you. It is the last coherent thought he has, if only to provide your some comfort.

You look up at him sweetly and nod, grabbing the plump flesh above his hips. “No teeth.”

(A claim wouldn’t take, anyway. Not really. Omega-to-omega pairings lack the necessary pheromones to stake a claim on each other. The most it would do would indicate that whoever has been bitten is a submissive-leaning packmate. Which— Jing Yuan actually would not mind biting you. He would like his teeth in your neck if you would ever allow him.)

He groans at the thought, lowering his head as a silver mane of hair spills around his face.

Jing Yuan is drenched and hard, leaking from the tip of his cock and seam of his cunt. It’s— filthy. You’re soaked too, with a mix of him and undoubtedly yourself too, though Jing Yuan can’t scent it over the smell of his own heat. It’s regrettable as he is sure the mix of you must be divine. Heavenly. 

He wants it in his mouth.

Jing Yuan slinks down your body, licking and sucking at patches of your skin. You try to bat him off, haul him up and away from your own leaking sex, but he resists. He needs a taste or he’ll die, probably. His heat can be quelled in a number of ways, he presumes.

With his face buried in your cunt, surrounded by your scent, the ache for a knot is dulled. When you cry out on his tongue, it is almost deafened.

Jing Yuan drinks you up— he should pay more mind to your clit, probably, if he wants to get you off properly. However, he is so immensely distracted by your entrance and the essence of you that’s leaking out. There’s a rapidly widening damp spot beneath your ass. A steady flow that Jing Yuan needs in him. 

He seals his mouth over your cunt, and prods his tongue inside of you. He presses so close, suffocating with his nose tight to your clit, to lap at your insides. 

You— you wail above him. Your hands bury in his increasingly tangled mess of hair for any sort of leverage. Jing Yuan doesn’t let up; he doesn’t think he can. Your tone crashes into one that’s softer, more airy, begging for more. For less. Jing Yuan can’t entirely tell. He isn’t sure he cares, truthfully. All he knows is that your thighs tighten around his head with each suck and slurp.

The sound of it is heavenly.

Your thighs press around his face. Flush to his cheeks are the scent glands in the apex of your inner thighs. Not everyone has them, as they’re something of a recessive trait among all secondary genders. The scent that comes off them is your own, however muskier and deeper. It sticks to the inside of his nose and pours down his throat like a nectar. You mewl when he breaks away to lap at one, coaxing out more of the scent. He gluts himself on it.

He needs, he needs, he needs.

“Jing Yuan,” you pant above him, propping yourself up with one arm while the other blindly reaches among his nest. “Do you need it? Knot?”

He— 

(He needs to be filled. He isn’t picky if that feeling is quenched with his cunt, ass, throat, or nose. The scent of you is almost enough, even if he clenches down on nothing and feels hollow in his belly. The sensations are so dull with you nearby. He feels heat incensed, but in a way that craves closeness with you and not the manic pursuit of a knot.)

It’s refreshing. Jing Yuan regrets not propositioning you for this treatment sooner.

“Are you offering?” Jing Yuan purrs. He places his thumbs over the scent glands of your inner thighs and presses down on the swell of them, just under your skin.

Your back bends off the bed and you throw your hand over your mouth. Teary eyes meet him and you nod. From the folds of the nest, you pull forth a knotting toy with a shaking grip. 

It’s beautiful for a toy. It’s a model that Jing Yuan had seen in a few high-end adverts on the few social medias he moonlighted on. It’s a flesh-like plastic cock, with an inflatable knot at the base. A little, wired remote drags along the blankets of his nest as you hold the phallus out to him. The plastic of the toy is a light gold, cut with veins of blue. It looks otherworldly and unreal. Jing Yuan has never cared for much realism with his toys, though this one is human enough. 

He makes a mental note to get Qingzu a bouquet for purchasing it for him on such short notice. 

The head of it feels cool against his cunt. It’s a welcome sensation as it feels like his body is burning up from the insight. He lays over you, wrestling you a bit to be flat below him, with his thighs caging yours. He growls when you try to grab the toy from his hands to assist.

It makes you pause.

Your soft palms cup his cheeks, “Do you not want me to help?”

“The angle—” The angle won’t be right, Jing Yuan wants to say. His words feel lost in his throat as he slowly begins to push inside himself. He gasps and tries to duck into your neck, to like and suck at the gland there and feast on your scent.

“I can try—?”

“ No.” 

Jing Yuan wants you just like this. In his nest, smelling like him and arousal and safety. The toy that’s sliding into his cunt is mostly irrelevant, as is the twitch of his cock as he slowly and methodically fucks the toy into himself. Little by little, he bullies it into his underused hole. The stretch is— is not bad. It would be far more uncomfortable if he weren’t in heat and pouring slick. 

You ask more quietly, just as he bottoms out. You still haven’t let go of his face. “Are you sure?” 

He is, but he can’t find the words to say so. Instead, he nods and tucks himself closer to you. You pet down the back of his neck and push on his scent glands. They ache with his heat. The pressure and direct contact makes him grunt as he adjusts to the toy in his cunt.

You hush him and nuzzle in his cheeks, “You’re doing so well. So good, Jing Yuan.”

He keens and pulls back the toy cock, only to shove it back into himself a moment later. Praise from you is a drug. He’s sure. You’re unbearably earnest and sweet and you are too kind to him. You whisper more of them into his ear as he fucks himself, deep and slow. He feels the sentiment of your words more than he hears it. Deeply affectionate and caring. If he were more lucid, he would be disarmed by you, speechless even. Perhaps he is already speechless, but he blames that on the heat haze and how the head of the toy is pressing deliciously into his sweet spot.

He narrows his focus on the spot and fucks him on the toy in earnest.

Jing Yuan will have an arm ache after this. Many aches, actually. It will be worth it. It is easiest to bear with you underneath him, tilting your hips up to grind against his dripping cock. It’s not the friction his body craves, but it’s welcome. It sends sparks down his spine and he whines into your neck. 

You nip at his neck, high on the side of it, and Jing Yuan lets loose a cracking moan. It’s almost embarrassingly loud. Were Jing Yuan able to feel shame in that moment, he’d be red-faced.

Instead, he tips his head to the side, allows you room to mouth and suck marks as you desire. You catch on quickly, and hum, licking broad stripes and soaking him in your scent. Your marks. It surrounds him.

He fucks himself on the toy faster.

(It’s nothing like the heats he had while he was mated with Yingxing and Dan Feng. Not at all. They were shorter, back then. Perhaps it was his youth or the relentless pace and haze Yingxing kept that burned Jing Yuan out faster. Or, maybe it was that Dan Feng always made sure he was wrung out, despite not craving him in the same way Yingxing had. It was carnal then. It still is now, but it does not feel as manic. You are gentle without qualifiers, sweet without expectation, and happy to let him rut into you and back onto the toy as much as he pleases. Your kisses are bruising, but not bloody like Dan Feng’s. There’s a different pace, a different scent, and a different intent.)

Jing Yuan once enjoyed the desperation that Yingxing put into everything he did (including him). He had fallen in love with Dan Feng for his poetics and distanced care. You have neither of these. It is unfair, ultimately, for Jing Yuan to draw comparison. 

Perhaps, he’ll feel guilty over it later. For now, his arm gives out and he falls into your chest with a keen. His back arches, hips raised, and the new angle is so, so good. You run your hands through his hair, and move your thigh, just right, so he can grind on it to his heart’s content.

He’s close; he can feel it in his belly.

What sends him over the edge is the feel of your lips against his hairline, the way your lips have curled into a soft, easy smile as you kiss him there. You stroke down his back, like how a good lover would.

You are a good lover. 

He shudders as orgasm grips him. The sound that rips from his throat is shattering, as overwhelming as the heat that boils over in his guts. And you are such a good lover, that the little remote must have already been in your hand, as in the moment he comes, the knotted base of the toy begins to swell. Jing Yuan can’t— can’t chase his orgasm. He can feel his eyes growing wet while his body feels out of his control (he hates that, he really does). You, however, are a good lover and reach and stretch, matching his angle with the toy and fuck him through it yourself. The knot catches once inside him, then a second time, and with the third, it locks him and the toy together.

And with what can only be called a sob, Jing Yuan fully collapses on top of you.

He can’t keep himself upright, he realizes. His thighs tremble terribly, and his arms are the same. His eyes are filled with tears he didn’t expect and doesn’t know what to do with. It feels vulnerable. Too vulnerable, in a way that Jing Yuan has avoided for centuries now. 

Before the feeling can consume him, you’re coaxing him onto his side and wrapping yourself around him. A sheet gets pulled atop the both of you and you’re nosing into him wherever you can.

“It’s okay,” You tell him. “You’re okay, I promise.”

A muffled sound that comes from your throat, followed by the low roll of a purr. 

Oh. 

All for him?

He shoves himself closer, skin to skin in all the spots he can reach. His tongue laves at your scent glands as his cunt flutters around the toy. He claws at your back before locking his arms around your waist. 

You’re purring for him.

He can help but do the same, even chirping without meaning to as he nips at your jaw. Jing Yuan trails his lips to your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. You curl and laugh at his touch, and Jing Yuan steals the lovely sounds from you with a kiss. It’s something deep and consuming, and Jing Yuan needs more of the taste of you. You squirm into it, gasping and opening your mouth for him to explore as he needs. Your openness continues to undo him. 

It’s all the reassurance he needs. Any poisonous feelings fall away, and Jing Yuan, for the first time in far too long, finds himself content and knotted. 

...

Jing Yuan has never had a heat quite like this one.

It is certainly more mild, and certainly a bit shorter than what he was expecting. The worst of it lasts five days, followed by three days that he can’t quite call post-heat. Though the desire in him is less feverish, he still craves your presence so much it hurts, and the idea of you being out of his nests sends him into a toothy panic those days. The ‘no teeth’ rule is modified to allow some biting, as long as it doesn’t involve any scent glands.

(However, Jing Yuan still would not mind putting a claiming bite on you. He makes a note to bring this up when he’s feeling some clarity of mind and can... attempt to court you properly.)

The most intense days of his heat are spent with a knotting toy in his cunt, rutting against your soft thighs, or with your hands wrapped around his cock. He eats you out whenever he can muster up the energy to shimmy between your legs and luxuriate there. Any down time is spent dozing in the warm sun rays that his bedroom is perfectly placed to receive. 

The latter days of his heat, Jing Yuan is more lucid. 

It’s in those days he truly enjoys his heat. Though the burn of arousal still lays within him, it is easily tempered with your presence in his nest and your many shared bite marks. Your time awake is spent lazily kissing, speaking in low voices, and sharing laughter and cups of cool water, one after the other. 

Jing Yuan, partially, did not think he would ever get to experience this type of connection again. with you or any other partner. The intimacy of the act is so deeply vulnerable, and after the spiritual loss of both Yingxing and Dan Feng, he never endeavored, or wanted to endeavor to, open himself up in that way again.

He, perhaps, convinced himself he did not need to.

(Nevermind the many nights, both heat-addled and otherwise, Jing Yuan spent craving nesting companions. Nevermind how many nights Jing Yuan lay alone, accepting his losses and mourning mates he’d never hold again. Jing Yuan could never choose to be selfish.)

It helped when Yanqing was little. He was just a small pup with golden eyes like Jing Yuan’s and a fiery spirit, even when he was so small. Jing Yuan had never considered himself maternal, however having a pup to take care of brought out latent instincts he’d spent the better part of his life pretending didn’t exist. As Yanqing aged, however, he was less receptive to such affections and connections. After presenting (far too young, poor thing, traumatized body), Yanqing wouldn’t share a nest with Jing Yuan unless he fell ill. Even then, Jing Yuan would have to coax him into it.

It quenched something in him. It allowed Jing Yuan to let himself care in the direct way he craved. With his position as General, how often does get to show care with his hands, and not with his words or stratagems? Not with sacrifice or poetry, but with his body and scent. 

Jing Yuan realizes now that there truly have been so many urges and behaviors Jing Yuan simply did not indulge.

And as his heat breaks, Jing Yuan thinks he’d like to start indulging them more.

...

On the last day of his heat, you stir around nightfall. You are exhausted, Jing Yuan knows this. Though his heat has provided him with a surprising amount of stamina, you are in standard condition, and looked wrung out halfway through day two of his heat. Jing Yuan’s grateful you’re as fond of midday naps as he is. 

You are cradled against his chest, your cheek pillows on his breast. He’d thrown a robe on while washing up, and hadn’t elected to remove it. The silky texture of it feels lovely against his flushed, sensitive skin. You seem to enjoy it too as you grip at the fabric of it in your sleep, nuzzling into his chest.

Your brow scrunches and a little sound pops from your throat as you try to burrow closer. It’s a hopelessly sweet gesture, desperate and honest. Jing Yuan can’t help but chuckle and smooth a hand over your mussed-up hair.

When your eyes crack open, your voice is raw, “‘S morning?”

“No, nighttime.” Jing Yuan nods to the darkened window.

You raise yourself up just enough to look, hum, and then fall back on top of him, “Feels like it should be morning.”

“We haven’t been keeping a very consistent sleeping schedule,” Jing Yuan rarely does, but he imagines that you and your position with the Sky Faring Commission have quite a regular routine. “You can keep resting.”

“I don’t wanna’,” Though, you shove your nuzzle into his chest, smearing him with your scent. “I wanna stay up and talk to you.”

“Me?” Jing Yuan smiles, smitten. He pinches your cheek. “About anything in particular?”

“... Not yet.” Your eyes slip closed. “Maybe later. I want to say things to you, but I feel... mushy. Inside my head.”

“Pheromone drunk?”

“‘Something like that,” Your words slur. “Not that I’m complaining. You smell so good, Jing Yuan.”

When you say his name, he shudders. The hand that’s been playing with your hand slips to your nape and squeezes. You keen at the contact and tangle your legs with his. It’s an impossible amount of closeness you are seeking, but Jing Yuan must attempt to give it to you. It’s abashed and honest, and in the stillness of night, how can he not indulge?

“Do I?”

“ Mhm.”

“Like what?” 

You’re falling asleep, clearly. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open even as you inhale deeply. Your lips part and you take his scent into your mouth. 

“Earth after rain,” You hum. “Sunbeam and linen. Warm milk.”

He squeezes you.

(A long time ago, Yingxing had complained about his scent. ‘Complained’. His face had been flushed crimson, telling him how distracting his sweet, rich scent had been. Dan Feng thought it was the funniest thing, considering Yingxing so clearly enjoyed Jing Yuan’s scent, as did he. They’d described it similarly— “petrichor” Dan Feng had told Jing Yuan while sweeping his mane back from his neck— “the smell of sunshine” Yingxing had told Jing Yuan after berating him.)

“How complementary.” Jing Yuan purrs and pulls you closer by the waist. Your face is smushed against his chest, but you don’t complain. You keep your lips parted to enjoy his scent. “And you like it?”

“So much,” You assure him, droopy-eyed. 

So good for him, so so good.

Jing Yuan presses the tip of his finger to your lips, a bit chapped from the dehydration and exertion. You chirp with it, a bit more awake.

He hushes you, and pushes his finger further into his mouth, “Sleep now, dear. You need to rest.”

“‘So do ya’,” You try to say, though it comes out garbled as Jing Yuan lays his finger on the flat of your tongue. Your eyes widen and go a bit crossed to look at his wrist, then up to his eyes. 

Jing Yuan isn’t entirely sure what compels him, but something does. Gently, he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. He idles there, and pets down your side.

“I’ll sleep soon, I’m sure you know.” Jing Yuan says softly. “Will you indulge me?”

(He asks to be selfish.)

Without hesitating, you nod.

(And you let him.)

Jing Yuan doesn’t explain himself. He doesn’t need to. Maybe it’s the specific sweetness his scent must take on, or the night air in contrast to the warmth and comfort of his nest, but you understand what he wants and give it to him without so much as a word.

Your lips open a little wider and Jing Yuan slips another finger inside. You stroke your tongue on his fingers as you close your mouth, eyes going dazed and heavy-lidded. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent into the deepest parts of your lungs. You suck on his fingers gently. 

Jing Yuan watches with still, even breaths.

Later, he will analyze why this scratches so many itches in his brain. Why his post-heat mind feels more calm and sated than he thought possible. Why he wants more of this, always, even if he doesn’t have a name for it yet.

For now, he is so, so content to have you this way. You are lulled back to sleep so easily, sucking on his fingers with your cheek still smushed against his breast. Even as you sleep, Jing Yuan doesn’t remove his fingers. He explores the inside of your mouth with gentle, easy pressure, so as to not wake you. It’s exploratory, more than anything. 

He plays with you in such a way until he’s too drowsy to continue. Satisfied and warm, he drags you under the covers and holds you close, scenting you one last time before letting himself fall into a contented, new kind of sleep.

...

You depart suddenly, while Jing Yuan is in the kitchen deftly chopping fruits and assembling little parfaits. 

You had been in his bathroom, freshening up with whatever products you’d like from his stash. Jing Yuan had left you your own robe for when you exited, quietly beaming that he’d have yet another article with your scent on it.

However, when you do leave the bathroom, you are fully dressed in the day clothes you arrived in a week ago. You stand at the doorway of his kitchen, pausing, wide-eyed.

“I n-need to go,” Your voice wavers, like you’re going to be ill.

Something squeezes in between Jing Yuan’s ribs. There are thin, transparent patches on your neck on either side. Scent blockers. Your eyes look watery. Jing Yuan immediately sets down the knife he had been working with.

“Is everything alright?” asks Jing Yuan. He knows something is wrong, even if he can’t smell you, you’re clearly distressed and disheveled.

“It’s— it’s nothing. It’ll be okay.” You tell him. Your voice trembles and you shake your head. 

“Are you sure? I can help.”

“It’s— it’s really nothing. I need to leave. I-I’m really sorry.”

You look from him to the foyer that leads to his front door and back again. There’s a desperate look in your eye that Jing Yuan has never seen with such an intensity before. It makes his heart ache and his hands feel clammy. He sighs.

(And a quiet, ever-present voice in his mind says, “they all leave, eventually.”)

“Alright.” Jing Yuan gives you a smile, the best he can muster. He knows it must be sadder than intended, as your expression falls and you look like you’ve been punched. 

“I’m so s-sorry.”

“It’s alright,” It isn’t. Not fully. “Handle whatever it is that you must. I’m only a call away. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Okay.” You take a shaking breath and shudder out the exhale. You’re trying not to cry and it takes everything in Jing Yuan’s being not to rush to you and attempt to mend whatever is causing you distress but—

(He can’t. He can’t do that. You have asked him to leave you be and Jing Yuan has spent his entire life honing his ability not to chase, even when he so, so badly wishes to.)

You give him one final, fleeting look, “Thank you. I— I’ll see you at our next lunch, okay? I’m sorry.”

It looks like there’s more you want to say, but you’re already out the door before you can. Jing Yuan hears it open and shut with a soft thud that vibrates throughout his home. It leaves Jing Yuan standing alone in his kitchen, frozen, while the robe he wears slips down his shoulders. He bears your marks, and reeks of your scent. His nest grows colder each minute. And though his heat has ended, the yearning for you has not.

If anything, the feeling is far stronger than it was before.

He latches onto the fact you will have your lunches. That— he will find some clarity then. That he can inspect you for damage during the next sunshine-filled meal you share, and prod to see if the last week and half did not carry the same type of... meaning for you, as it did Jing Yuan. He will need to make sure you’re well. He’ll fret until then, he knows this.

(A more dormant, possessive part of him wishes he snatched you back from his foyer and threw you back into his nest. If something was wrong, he could. If something needed fixing, he could help. If it were anything official for your work, Jing Yuan would pull any and all strings to get you out of the obligation. If you were hurt, Jing Yuan would do anything to see you better.)

Instead, Jing Yuan idles in his kitchen, feeling struck and helpless. Something in him aches, deep and low, and Jing Yuan lays a hand over his chest and squeezes it into a fist. He had thought he had become used to this type of loneliness, but it aches all the same.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi if requests are still open could I ask for nsfw headcanons for Erwin, Levi and Hange? Thanks so much in advance 😊🩵

Yaaaaay, veteran trio sure thing :)

Disclaimer: I use they/them pronouns for Hanji and since this request is NSFW in nature also AFAB language/terms will also be used for them. And Levi’s portion goes into the expected heavy shit about his childhood and Underground. ...Erwin’s I just... idk. Wrote with my dick I guess 🧍🏻‍♂️

Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used) with AFAB or AMAB anatomy depending on reader's choice since both options are lightly given. Hope that makes sense.

NSFW contents under the cut 😉

Erwin Smith

Dear Reader, I want you to look me directly in the eyes and try to tell me this man doesn't have a big dick - trick question you can't. The man is big all over. But he's very polite about it, not one to brag but it does bring a warm smile to his face to see your eyes practically pop out of your head the first time you're down on your knees, crouched down in front of the chair to his desk, mouth already watering as you quickly undo his belt and unzip him to be able to pull him out - only to go eyes owl wide when it nearly smacks you in the face. It takes a lot from him not to chuckle out when your hand goes to hesitantly wrap around it - only for you to flinch back when it twitches hello in your grasp, he finds it very cute actually.

Hairy chest. That's all. Actually no - hairy everything. It's great.

He is loud very loud - Erwin’s a loud man in general, kind of has to be when he's been in a military superior position for good portion of his life. But it didn't come up from that, no, Erwin’s always been loud when it comes to 'entertaining' lovers - even since he younger, if Erwin Smith is having sex everyone will know it, does not help he's a screamer (Nile and Mike have always teased him about it) but he sees no shame in it - just proof his lover(s) made him feel good and wears it like a badge of honor. And don't think he's alone in this, he will make damn well sure you're just as satisfied until your lungs go sore.

But if you are embarrassed of having people give you awkward looks afterwards, the solution is actually very simple: gag him. It could be with anything really; your underwear, your fingers, your hands around his thick neck, your hole/cock, get really creative with it :) And if you want yourself to not be heard, just tell him I'm sure he can think of some naughty ideas too.

Erwin has... complicated issues with relationships, both being Commander and focusing on attaining his dream he'd rather not be tied down to a serious relationship, but he has no issue with a friends with benefits type situation - stress relief. God does he need stress relief. However, if you are in a serious relationship with him then it's clear you're obviously very special to him - which also complicates things. For one I see him refusing to date a civilian so you have to be in the Survey Corps and fully understand what that means, to fully understand the 'delicate your hearts' oath and fully know damn well either of you could die at any time each time you step outside the Walls. Plus Erwin has a lot - and I mean a lot of enemies, you being someone someone so dear and close to him makes you a number one target and he knows that, he struggles with that, however it's a good motivator in a way; keeps him more focused and on guard, it makes him more careful, it makes him gather more and more blackmail on certain people if needed. That being said, the sex between you and him if you're dating - or hell married - is full blown romantic.

Don't get me wrong, he'll still blow your back out if you ask, but most of the times when you both find the time to sink to each other's touch it's with this air of gentleness Erwin has honestly never experienced with another partner, even Marie. You're... something special to him. Maybe it's because unlike past romantic interests - both men and women - you actually understand what's going on inside his head, you get how important his dreams are, you get his guilt, you actually know the... unspeakable wonder (beside all the titan killing fellow comrades thing) of what it's like outside the Walls. Freedom.

His kisses are so gentle yet grounded, he makes sure to kiss every inch of your body while muttering all sorts of praise and adoration with his lips pressed up against your skin so you can feel his words.

His big, thick fingers work open your hole/pump around your cock with steady rhythm as he takes you on his bed. He loves feeling your hands spring up and encourage his actions by messing up his normally perfect stylized hair and turning it into a complete blonde mess.

Loves hearing you, your voice sounds like absolute heaven to him if there is one and your voice crying out his name over and over and over and over and over again as he makes you come with nothing but his fingers/hand never fails to briefly send him there each time.

When he's inside you he can't help but feel overwhelmed, you're so warm and tight hugging your walls around him and if you're smaller than him he will never fail to tell you how seeing his cock not even able to completely enter all the way inside without the tip of his cock already pressed to deep that his head is rubbing at the deepest part it can go without you completely breaking entirely. If you're around the same size or maybe even a little bigger, then it's still the same, it brings a wide stupid grin on his face to look back as he has your legs tossed back and you're on your back you taking his prick all the way up to his base, balls resting comfortably against your ass. He feels ecstasy when he can start fucking deep into you.

When I said loud, I mean loud-loud. And if you're more than just an occasional fuck? Double that by like - twenty. He will vocalize each and every single thing he's feeling and is on his mind as he pounds into you. The headboard? Is banging against the wall so loud that Cadets two floors down in the Mess Hall can hear it and could mistake it for Wall Rose getting breached. It's an absolute miracle that shit hasn't split in two yet and especially with how one of Erwin’s hands clutches down onto it to keep himself grounded as he fucks you, moaning and groaning your name and all sorts of curses so loud that Levi’s viciously kicking the wall down the hall in his own office just as loud to tell you two to shut the fuck up but neither of you can hear it as you're so fucking lost in one another.

Call him Commander in bed. Do it. That twenty will turn into a hundred so fucking fast, not as fast as Erwin rearranges you to turn around - front facing the bedroom door - and straddling his hips with your back to him and your arms are held behind your back as he roughly bounces you on his lap. Everyone in this damn building and outside it will know what you're doing.

I mentioned his hairy chest? Yeah, well that adds a nice friction on your back and his chest is so plump you can lay back in them almost like pillows. Meaty, hairy, pillows. It's nice. They jiggle underneath you btw.

When he comes it's like a geyser going off inside you - literally. He'll fill you so full and your ears will practically ring from how loud he'll scream unless you quickly muffle his mouth up with your own or something, if not... well, everyone already knows what you've been doing at this point. If not? They certainly do now. But you try not to think about it, watching the flood of come pouring out of your when his cock slips out and staining both your and his thighs and the bedsheets.

Erwin acts practically drunk in the afterglow, his words are slurred and he has this wide toothy smile on his face you can't help but to kiss. This is the true stress relief. Here, his thoughts are the furthest from everything; the Walls, the titans, the Government, the Crown, the maybe-possible-if-his-father's-right people living outside the Walls... his dream... all of it. This is one few times he can completely distract himself away from all of it. He isn't Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps and accidental murder of his father - he's just... Erwin. And he's with you, just you - not Squad Leader (Name) (Surname). Just you, (Name). Nothing outside this very room matters, just laying in each other's arms and taking in the glow of being with one another. Knowing damn well you'll have to remember and face it all once you leave here.

But it's fine. He wouldn't be with you nor you would him if you didn't know that, if you didn't want to fight back against everything that be - if you didn't want Erwin’s dream to come true. And everyday, bit by bit you make further strides for that dream, together. You’ll reclaim Wall Maria, capture outside the Walls, beat the titans, learn the truth of what's to know about them. And see that thing mentioned in one of Erwin’s forbidden hidden books his father left... what was it again? Oh yeah, the sea. The ocean.

You two will see that together. You promised one another. No matter what.

Levi Ackerman

Right off the bat it should be stated: Levi has a complicated relationship with sex - it should be obvious, given how he grew up. Where he grew up. What his mother did for a living, and... he very much grew up aware of what she did. It's not just sex either, relationships, dating as a whole he's... complicated with.

Two things: Levi doesn't do causal flings, he doesn't do causal relationships. If he's with you in the first place it's because he loves you. If he didn't he wouldn't be with you and it's that simple, he's doesn't vocalize it much - he has... issues with words, serious, emotion-y words - but if you're with him at all romantically in the first place you already know him fluently enough to understand that. He doesn't have to say "I love you," very often - you already know he does, and when he actually does voice it, it's always at the absolute most vulnerable positions he can be to show you how much he genuinely means it.

Trust is important to him. Very important. He loves you, he wouldn't be with you if he didn't as we already established that. Sex? Completely different ball park. If he wants to he sexually active with you it is beyond trust with him. It's beyond just trusting his own life in your hands, it's beyond letting you handle his old knives, it's beyond trusting you enough to tell you horror stories of how he grew up, it's beyond telling you just how close Farlan and Isabel were to him that they were practically siblings to him, it's beyond telling you about Kenny and how for the longest time and still sometimes that it fucks him up to think... he knew his mother - doesn't know how, the bastard always refused to ever tell him, and then just one day for no fucking reason just... walked out. Walked out without a word or anything. Left him to barely survive down there on his own until Farlan and Isabel. How for years... he was convinced the bastard might be his father. Because what else could he be? Visiting and knowing his dead mother by name - her actual name - and picking Levi up and saving him when he was on the brink of starvation, if Kenny hadn't arrived when he did then... he might've very well been dead by the next day. It's just... or it was hard to think up any other possible explanation but this MP killing bastard being his dad. But now, he isn't sure - nowadays doesn't really care to find out, hell the bastard could be rotting in a ditch for all he cares. He's never told another soul that - just you. Between you and him there's something deeper than trust.

Now, I know a lot of other headcanons tend to make Levi out to be this super dom sexy sex sex man or whatever, but no. He has no fucking experience whatsoever, until he made this connection with you he absolutely refused to - always thinking about that sunk look in his mother's eyes after dealt with clients and how she'd fake the warmth in them to hide the hurt when Levi would be let back in the room by one of her lady 'work friends' and she'd talk to him so lovingly and sweetly... until she got another knock on the door and he'd have to leave again. That sunken look in her eyes immediately returning and even as a kid he'd want to attack the bastards he knew was the cause of her hurt. And that's how he seen sex for the longest time, didn't fucking help with all the degenerates pigs Underground. He can count on both hands and toes and it still not be enough how how many fucking pigs he's had to gut for staring at Isabel the wrong gross way - a child. Still makes him sick. All these years later. So he's stayed away from it. Fought against it, even up against the absolute worst the Underground had to offer.

However, the longest he'd had bad associations with it, but... with you it's different. You're different, different than a lot of people and that's because of the beyond trust thing. He can be different around you - not the smartass, foul mouthed, titan killing machine people know him as now, he can be... vulnerable, alone with you - and he wants to be. He really does, he loves you afterall and... he wants to give himself to you, completely, because that's how special you are but...

It's stupid, he tells himself - he's a grown man, he's in his late twenties right now, acting and beating himself up in such a childish way over a natural thing. What's wrong with him? But it's you to calm him down, telling him you don't have to do anything and that you're content just the way things are between the two of you now. That you didn't need to go further - ever if he wished, that you love him no matter what. But the thing is... he wants to. There's just this - this mental block he can't seem to get across, no matter how hard he tried. Humanity's strongest? Or whatever it is they're calling him now? Scared of what? He scolds himself. Losing his virginity? The two of you share a bed together to sleep in - this shouldn't - shouldn't - shit. But... you look at him. The two of you sit together on the bed and you look up/down/straight forward at him (depending on your height) and he just... feels at ease, he remembers why he loves and beyond trusts you in the first place, that everything's fine, everything will be fine as he puts a hand to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as he gives a steady nod and melts his lips with yours.

That being all said, yeah, Levi’s a virgin. He doesn't really have all that much idea of what he's doing, just goes by his gut and will rely on you to actively tell him what to do, what you want, and how you want it. But Levi - being the prodigy in every new skill he learns, doesn't take long for things to start clicking together in place. Half in hour and your virgin lover you'd think was actually a sex deity in human form - things just... click for him in that odd way it does for him learning new things (weird fucking Ackerman genes in work in real time, actually)

Insane head-game. Think he mouth I'd just good for crass insults and shit jokes? Nope, but honestly that should be expected. After the first few experimental pokes and licks around, enough to get a good idea of how to get you going, will his mouth latch onto and kiss, bite, and suck around the opening to your wet hole then stuck fucking his tongue deep inside and thrusting in all the sweet places/or mark fondle your balls with his mouth before working up your shaft kissing your head before absolutely deepthroating and going to town on you - no gag reflex, shocker. He loves the way you taste and can go on and on and make you come again, and again, and again, and again repeatedly until you loose your mind or voice. Or both.

Want to play with his insecurities? Not maliciously of course, but in universe I think Levi’s thought of as """"""""ugly"""""" and if that's the case you can imagine what types of disgusting shit people has called/said to him. He doesn't mind or care, especially these days as he's older but... call him handsome, or gorgeous and Levi’s a really pale guy, even if he's been above ground a couple years he's still wasn't born a 'sun-walker' so when he blushes it practically dyes his entire face and goes all the way up to his ears. It's cute. Even more cute when he growls, frowns, and scowls as he tries to hide it and distract you by suddenly entering you - which breaks the facade almost immediately as he goes wide eyed and nearly out of breath as he feels you around him. You overwhelm him, he burries himself in your neck not to let himself bottom out. His chest rocks with each breath and he's quick to litter your neck and collar in bites.

Hope you like it here, virgin or not with that Ackerman stamina you're going to be here awhile as he absolutely rocks your world. For hours and hours on end until the both of you are drenched in sweat and the wall has a crack in it from the bed moving.

Very quiet - nearly silent actually except for the occasional gritted curse and heavy breathing. But the longer you go on the more comfortable he actually gets making noise; moans, grunts, and punched out intakes of your name.

He'll fuck you until your legs go numb, wrapped around his hips and encouraging every thrust he gives you and you'll come over and over until you're light headed, bit with him there seems to be no end in sight as he onyx colored hair swoops down and dances with each and every single one of his movements as he looks down almost dazed at you.

Tell him out loud you love him and he'll come on spot.

Silvery grays practically roll back inside of his head when he hits his release and he'll be louder than anything he's been all night before finally his body gives out and collapses on top of you. Wide pleased smile on his face that's for no one inside these entire damn Walls or below ground to see - accept for you. It's only for you. This all is only for you.

After falling unconscious for about forty seconds Levi wakes back up with his normal expected demeanor, this time he just lies there in your arms and presses himself lazily in your neck. When he speaks it's slightly muffled, but it's fine. You ask him if he had a good time - which he tells you is a stupid question and should be obvious, getting a light laugh out of you as you go to comb through his sweaty hair.

He makes it very clear later that this isn't a regular thing, a once maybe a month type thing until... he gets a better understanding with it. "Shit takes time, you know." And you agree, telling him to take all the time he needs which he just lies there for another lingering moments before pushing himself up and pushing his lips to your own.

A bath sounds good now.

Hanji Zoë

Doesn't really have that much experience, WAY too invested in their work to really have had the time. But! That doesn't mean they're not ready and willing to learn - very opposite in fact, honestly. They are absolutely over the MOON when you come out and say you want to fuck them! They get so excited that they rush off into whatever direction of the nearest library to learn and come up with ideas of what to do with you that they sort of leave you there behind in dust 😅 but not to worry, Moblit's there (somewhat very embarrassed to walk in on this exchange) but he promises you that your Squad Leader means well they're just... you know, eccentric.

Books on sexuality and other ""taboo"" stuff of that nature are looked down upon in the higher society of the Walls, but they're not that hard to find if you know where to look, and luckily Hanji knows where a bunch of them are - in fact they know a lot of libraries have them in a 'secret' section - but pulling a few strings and hinting at knowing about a married librarian's affair with a nurse down the street Hanji is able to gather a bunch of books to bring back to Headquarters! They spend all next and the next few days looking over them, reading them cover to cover - only having to explain to Nanaba once who came to visit their office and curiously had picked up one, only to immediately set it back down when seeing the one of the crude sexual diagrams drawn inside before immediately excusing herself.

So, with all this learning and newly attained precious knowledge and a bit of self discovery, turns out Hanji Zoë is a kinky mother fucker. They excitedly jot down all sorts of things that catch their interest, said list turns several pages long that when shown and told about your eyes nearly bug out of your head. Your face turns scorched hot as you tell your lover that maybe best for now just to... narrow it down to three things, then the both of you could talk and work up to it.

And that's where it stays for a couple of weeks, nothing really happens and things go on as normal, until one day when you're at the Superiors table in the Mess Hall as Erwin draws on and on about Banquet plans - AKA 'entertaining' and kissing ass to the nobles and the Brass to beg for funding for the next expedition outside Wall Maria - to you, Levi, Nanaba, and Mike, until suddenly Hanji comes springing down the hall and grabs your arm and pulls you completely off the bench seat to where you fall on your ass.

"Sorry-important-titan-research-matters-need-to-borrow-(Name)-bye!" And they drag you off, your ass still on the floor. Leaving everyone else at that table speechless.

You're about to scold your lover the moment you get inside the door, now at your feet, and your just about to until Hanji pushes you back against the wood in a feverish kiss that leaves you breathless. When they pull away they have a wide shit eating grin on their face. Okay. You're much calmer now. You let yourself be dragged across the small office and shoved onto the bed tucked in the corner - Hanji gives you a wink and excitedly goes for a couple boxes at their desk, handing them to you for you to open.

Rope. A... harness looking thing that looks like... underwear? With an odd hoop in the middle. And... a large phallic shaped object that makes your eyes go shot wide. Okay, you tell yourself. This must be their three.

"Two actually," They correct you without you even having to say it out loud. "-this is three." Without much effort they start pulling off their uniform to reveal the pretty white laced lingerie they have on that makes you go entirely speechless. They push their glasses up further on their nose with a head tilt. "You like?" You nod without even feeling yourself do so. "Good." You... didn't know to whether be scared or aroused at that glint in their eyes.

You're naked and tied up from post to post with the red velvety rope as your lover straddles you and map out every part of your body with their hands, committing each bump, scar, and curve to memory. Hanji looks at you with this inquisitive look in their eyes - the same look they get during one of their experiments but yet, it's almost different than that, or is it? They touch you and look back up to your face for a reaction, they like watching you squirm but not be able to do anything with your limbs tied and can only whimper and moan for them, they like that very much actually. You can't touch them either, as they straddle you your hips do buck into them - getting a gasp out of them but with their hands suddenly around your neck they scold you with a pointed wagging finger. "Bad, naughty."

Their hips starts grounding into you as they begin touching themselves with only you helpless to watch their hand disappear down lace panties and start working themselves over, making sure to make plenty of noises you can hear until suddenly their slick hand is shoved into your mouth and you're ordered to suck, which you do until they're roughly yanked out be replaced but their breathless kiss instead - tasting their own arousal off you. Then they get an idea.

With a wide smile off their face do they maneuver around the bed to where they're above you and moves the panties aside for you to eat at them as they sit on your face. They hum and moan out all sorts of praises as they let you know how good of a job your doing eating out their pussy like it was your last meal, and since Hanji wants to be the dominant party here, they're not afraid to order you around a bit - reminding you that they are your Squad Leader and you should address them as so. So get ready to add "Yes, Squad Leader," to each and every you say tonight :)

For being so good, they give you a reward: while you continue to eat them out, they'll bend slightly over, spread you legs slightly apart to comfortly position themselves to eat out your hole/or gag around your cock, all nice and good for their beloved favorite squad member until you both come at least a couple times each, and if you're to type to get overstimulated, they'll reassure how well you're doing and tell you in the softest voice they can: "One more, just one more." until you come again.

Once you're done with that and Hanji wobbles off the bed, legs shaking, as they go to gather the harness and dick shaped object off the floor. They slip off the lingerie panties and stuff them in your mouth with a; "Hold these, please." As your lover then boucy legs each of their legs through the leg-holes and carefully latches each strap - only pausing when they look over and realized they forgot the dick. Oopsie. Fix that.

With it finally on they kneel back on top the bed, untying yours legs and arms and rubbing each appendage carefully, muttering to ask if you're okay in your ear - you nod. Now, it doesn't matter to Hanji how big or small you are. You are going on their lap - no matter how maybe ridiculous you maybe might look, you are straddled their hips at your sex is rubbed against their fake dick. But of course, you're not getting it first without begging for it, or beg for it enough for your lover's liking.

When it's in and your hips are encouraged by Hanji's hands at your hips to start bouncing on it, at your own pace at the start, until a sudden slap to your ass encourages you go faster and you make a noise - muffled by the panties still in your mouth - to your lover's shit eating grinned delight as they start thrusting their hips to meet the back or your thighs in wet snaps.

Hanji absolutely loves having their chest marked up, after ripping the underwear from out of your mouth they'll hold your head to bite at their breasts that gets them to toss their head back in a satisfied hum.

Eventually, will push you to your back and start pounding away at you in their own pace, committing every sound you make to memory and drinking in every call of their name like they were on the brink of dehydration and bit by bit more they push you to the absolute edge - until you nearly scream out your climax, for it to be quickly smoothed by their lips and a tight fist wadded in your hair.

Both of you are jelly boned by the time your finished, completely naked now up in each other's arms and honestly half asleep. That is until you chuckle, nuzzling your face in the crook of your love's neck. "I think that might've been just a tad more than three things," you tell them, which they shrug. "What can I say? I got creative in the moment, you know - there's a ton of things in those books! Maybe some stuff you'll like-" You wave it off with a yawn.

"Maybe later. Nap time now," You can't help the amused smile. "-Squad Leader."

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

[sleepybabybees]

Incorrect quotes return ✨️

Why? Simply because I can't sleep.

Ghost: Bridge the generation gap by combining old and new slang into one!

Price: Tubular AF!

Gaz: Mood to the max!

Soap, annoyed: Groovy, I hate it.

Laswell, just as annoyed: If she breathes, she’s a square.

----

Ghost: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Price: Have everyone stand.

Gaz: Bring three more chairs!

Soap: The most important ones can sit down.

Laswell: Kill three.

---

Laswell: Anyone d-

Ghost: Depressed?

Gaz: Drained?

Soap: Dumb?

Price: Disliked?

Laswell: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people...

---

Ghost: What’s something you guys are better than Price at?

Gaz: Mario Kart.

Soap: Yeah, video games.

Laswell: Emotional vulnerability.

---

Ghost: I’m an idiot.

Price:

Gaz:

Soap:

Laswell:

Ghost:

Price: If you’re waiting for us to disagree, this is going to be a long day.

---

Oryn: You're 'the second worst thing to ever happen to those orphans', what does that mean?

Eskell: It means i was second worst thing to happen to those orphans.

Oryn: but what’s the first worst thing?

*Awkward pause*

Eskell: Oryn, they...they weren’t always orphans.

Oryn:

---

Oryn: Eskell...

Eskell: Oh no, 'Eskell' in b-flat.

Eskell: You're disappointed.

---

Oryn: Violence isn't the answer.

Eskell: You’re right.

Oryn: *sighs in relief*

Eskell: Violence is the question.

Oryn: What?

Eskell, bolting away: And the answer is yes.

Oryn, running after him: NO-

---

Oryn: *Screams*

Eskell: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Graves: Should we do something?

Price: No, I want to see who wins.

---

Price: Why are Oryn and Eskell sitting with their backs to each other?

Graves: They had a fight.

Price: Then why are they holding hands?

Graves: They get sad when they fight.

---

Oryn: I think we're missing something.

Eskell: Teamwork?

Graves: Cohesion?

Price: A general sense of what we’re doing?

---

Farah: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Alex: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Ghost: I got distracted about halfway through.

Soap: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

---

Farah: Listen, I can explain...

Alex: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Ghost: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Soap: You guys are getting paid?

---

Farah: *Trying to fill out legal paperwork stuff* Were you guys born AMAB or AFAB?

Alex: Bold of you to assume I was born at all.

Ghost: I personally was created in a lab.

Soap: I just straight up spawned lol.

---

Farah: Go to Hell

Alex, tearing up: I wish I could

---

Farah: *holding a bottle* Is this whiskey or perfume?

Alex: *chugs entire bottle*

Alex: It’s perfume.

---

Nikolai: Must be hard not being able to laugh

Price: I do have a sense of humor you know

Nikolai: I’ve never heard you laugh before

Price: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

---

Nikolai: I'm a reverse necromancer.

Price: Isn't that just killing people?

Nikolai: Ah, technicality.

---

Nikolai: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

Price: Twelve, actually.

Nikolai: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Price: Yours!

Nikolai: That's right: no one's.

---

Nikolai: I made tea.

Price: I don’t want tea.

Nikolai: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Price: Then why are you telling me?

Nikolai: It is a conversation starter.

Price: That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Nikolai: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

---

Gaz: Why are you on the floor?

Price: I'm depressed.

Price: Also I was stabbed, can you get Nikolai, please.

---

Nikolai: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time?

Price: The car takes a screenshot.

Gaz: For the last time, get the fuck out.

---

*Nikolai and Price sitting in jail together*

Price: So who should we call?

Nikolai: I’d call Gaz, but I feel safer in jail...so I'm going to call kate-

Price: good call-

---

Nikolai: Are you sure this is the right direction?

Price: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am honest!

Gaz: In that case, we're definitely lost.

---

Laswell: Just be yourself.

Price: 'Be myself'? Kate, I have one day to win Nikolai over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Soap: Couple weeks.

Gaz: Six months.

Ghost: Jury’s still out.

Price: See, Kate?

Price: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

---

Nikolai: We need to distract these guys

Price: Leave it to me

Price: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Gaz, Soap, and Laswell: *Immediately begin arguing*

Ghost, watching in horror: Oh, this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

---

'Can I copy the homework?'

Nikolai: I can help you with it!

Price: Yeah, sure.

Gaz: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Soap: lol nope.

Laswell: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Ghost: *Read 5:55pm*

---

Nikolai: Croissants: dropped

Price: Road: works ahead

Gaz: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Soap: Shavacado: fre

Laswell: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Ghost:

Ghost, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that, and I hate every single one of you.

---

Alejandro: I prevented a murder today.

Rudy: Really? How’d you do that?

Alejandro: self control.

---

Alejandro: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming

Ghost: my dad would argue yes.

Soap: yes

Gaz: if you wanna see it that way, sure

Rudy: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak

---

Alejandro: I was thinking I'd do some magic-

Rudy: You? Magic? Alejandro, it says talent show.

---

Alejandro: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Rudy?

Rudy: … No.

Valeria: I do!

Alejandro: I know, Valeria.

Valeria: I’m El Sin Nombre!

Alejandro: I know, Valeria.

---

Alejandro: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Rudy: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Valeria: Smad.

---

Store Worker: Would a Mr. Rudy please come to the front desk?

Rudy, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker: points to Alejandro and Valeria

Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?

Alejandro and Valeria, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Rudy: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me

[betterfettered]

Hello friends! I'm lowkey on hiatus because it's been a very rough few months, but I thought I'd pop in and say hi 🥺 Pls keep me in both ur horny and nonhorny thoughts LOLOL

Your yandere does not appreciate being rejected by you.

(AFAB!reader x mean AMAB!yandere)(noncon)(violence against reader)(verbal abuse, degradation)(fatphobic degradation)(painful sex)(loss of virginity)(angery man)(choking)(gaslighting)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(be careful with this one friends)(18+ readers only please, mdni)[This is fetish content; rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

It was not like you weren’t enjoying kissing Satan.

In fact, you were overjoyed. This was a long time coming, you felt. Since the moment the both of you had begun working for extra credit as RAD library, your breath caught in your chest at the sight of him and your stomach twisted up not unpleasantly when he looked at you, even more so when he spoke to you. He had never seemed impressed with you – most of your comments seemed to either confuse him, irritate him, or elicit no reaction at all – so it was shocking that, when you told him you’d stay a little late in the intern lounge and finish up preparing books for the hold shelf, he said he’d stay behind with you to help; that when the last book was bound, he came close until you were sandwiched between him and a shelf, all of a sudden your round face cradled between elegant hands and lips on yours surprising you so much that you felt like your scalp was electrified, a not so small bundle of lust unfurling in the pit of your stomach.

No, you were enjoying it a lot. Still, a wave of anxiety threatened to overwhelm you because you didn’t know what he wanted next. His tongue was starting to feel its way around the inside of your mouth, and one of his hands trailed ghosting fingertips down your neck past your collarbone and onto your breast, settling there with a firm grope. You didn’t even know what you wanted right now, much less how you should respond. He exhaled in pleasure, bathing the bottom of your face in warmth, and you pulled away, smiling shyly and taking his arm by the wrist to move it away from you.

“…I really like you and I’m, so so happy you kissed me,” you said eventually, your eyes pinned on his bow tie. “But, I don’t…I don’t think I’m ready for this yet.”

He studied your face silently.

You took a step aside, wriggling out from between him and the wall.

“Are you busy tomorrow? Maybe we can – ”

Had you been watching his face instead of his neckline, you would have noticed the flashbang of rage overcome his expression; you would have tried to run upon seeing the earnest vulnerability withering in his eyes. Instead, you were completely shocked when your head was jerked to the side by the hair. You focused on trying to maintain your footing until the impact of your desk hitting the back of your thighs made you cry out. The sound was choked out by Satan snatching your throat in his now clawed hand and making your vision fill with stars by slamming your head down on the desk.

“H-how…” he started, shaking you until you looked at him. “How can you summon the nerve to say 'no' to me?”

You were so stunned that you didn’t know what to say or do, and he resolved that by backhanding you so forcefully that you had to gasp to breathe, that you immediately started sobbing from the sudden pain and shielded your face with both hands, one over the other. He grabbed the intersecting cross of your wrists and shoved it above your head.

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you, you fucking pig,” he spat, grabbing you by the jaw and forcing your face upwards so you could look into his absolutely frigid glare, which seemed to tear all of the sensation from your body. “You think that you're not repulsive because Asmodeus sees you as a warm enough set of holes to use when he’s bored?”

“He doesn’t,” you blubbered, shaking your head. “I never – ”

“Save me the excuses,” he said, claws pressing deeper into your neck until you could feel tiny trills of wetness starting to leak out from beneath them. He withdrew the hand on your throat so that he could busy it with shredding your clothes from your body instead. “You are completely worthless. Y-you should be fucking grateful,” he sputtered. “You should be fucking grateful I could stand to look at you for long enough to try and entertain my baser desires.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, because you didn’t know what else to say.

His hands left your body, and you curled up and away from him. You hadn’t noticed that he’d been standing between your bare thighs until you felt your ankles touching him on either sides when you tried to press your legs together. Had you been crying any harder you might not have heard him removing his own uniform, but there was no way of ignoring the way his fingers shoved themselves between your thighs to run back and forth over your now bare pussy, the way he moved that hand upwards to try and pry your legs apart.

“If you are disobedient again you will wish that I did not leave you alive to tell of the consequences,” Satan snarled, rattling his belt at you. “Open your legs.”

For a moment, you lied there and sobbed, starting to hyperventilate because it felt as though your body was completely out of your control, like you couldn’t obey despite how badly you wanted to.

He helped you out, eventually, shoving your thighs open; there wasn’t a second between you feeling his dripping cock trace down over your clit and his forcing himself into you as hard as possible. For a moment, he paused, his cheeks reddening and glare evaporating as the heat of your pussy burned him all up inside, made his legs feel weak. He paused a moment, holding back a moan, and pitched forward over you, grinding his hips into you with no regard for how it made you gasp in pain and weep.

“You know, when someone like Asmo fucks you,” he breathed, shuffling the hair behind your head aside so he could loop his belt around your neck. “They close their eyes and turn their head away to try and forget that they’re inside of a fat fucking eyesore like you.”

Distantly, you wondered if he would be kinder to you if he knew that Asmo had never even touched you beyond a hug. You felt the belt being pulled through its buckle until it pressed into your throat on each side, yanking you towards him like you were a dog on a leash. His hips snapped against yours again, and this time he was not able to conceal his whine, pausing another moment before returning his eyes to yours. He wanted to summon more anger, to make you pay for making him so pathetic and teasing him all this time with those skirts he could see your ass beneath if you leaned over enough and for shattering his heart such that he felt fear and fury looking at you instead of the usual comfort and warmth.

“Look at me,” he growled, tightening the belt until he could see the panic in your eyes, until you grabbed his forearm pleadingly instead of trying to cover your tits from his greedy eyes, nails digging into skin to brace yourself against the way that every part of you jiggled with that embarrassing slapping noise when he slammed his hips into yours.

“You’re hurting me,” you eventually whispered, your hands lowering to your vulva as though you could keep him out of you, even though the way you cried made it clear you had surrendered long ago. “It hurts so bad.”

He glanced down, seeing how your blood and the fluids that had mercifully lubricated you had mixed pink. The sight made him toss his head back and laugh, a gleeful smile taking over his expression so much that his eyes shut.

“I guess Asmo only fucked your face, then?”

You shook your head but, if anything, it just made him rougher with you; one of his hands caught your cheek as though to cradle it, but he was so close to cumming that he couldn’t maintain his composure or strength. Strained moans burst from his mouth, falling over each other as he finished inside of you, pressing your head into the table and tugging the belt outwards and away from his body until he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck.

“Cry all you want,” he said, letting go of his belt to stroke your hair. “It won’t change that no one will ever want you now but me.”

[trespresh]

let me go, don't you ever

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

+ reader: afab, no pronouns used partner: amab, he/him word count: 7.1k rating: explicit. very explicit. tw for basically anything you'd expect with deep nasty vampire sex: primal play, blood play, blood drinking, biting, rough sex (but with feelings!)… and a little cockwarming, as a treat

+

idk man I just write the fic I want to read about the sex I want to have.

This ended up being one of the big primal scenes I've always wanted to write but never had anywhere to put it. It is purely a fantasy put to words. This is a real plug-n-play style fic. It's xreader but the partner is not specifically described. You can copy and paste your favorite little guy in there, or just use this as a blank canvas and go to town!

This xreader style of fic is a first for me, and I'm still tbd on whether I'll post it to ao3. I think about scenes like this a lot just for my own uhhhh enjoyment, and I’ve just never actually written it down in this format before. I’m a little nervous but taking my own advice about no shame and no judgment ✌️ but also be nice to me lol

(tl;dr - It’s deeply self-indulgent pov primal vampire sex. There will be blood.)

+

The first time he ever drinks from you, he’s a little crazy-eyed and desperate, a few hours too many past the last time he drank anything. 

You’ve talked about this before: how you’d like to try it, how he would too. Never specifics, never how or when. But right now, the air seems to crackle in the space between you, magnetic and intriguing, and you realize that you really want this now. Even as your eyes catch on the flash of his fangs when he licks his lips, you think, yeah. 

You want this, and you trust him, and you want to help him if you can, so you ask, “Would it help?”

You can tell he’s trying hard to keep his eyes on yours, but he can’t catch himself before glancing down at your throat a few times. You watch him watch the pulse in your neck before he drags his eyes back up to yours. When he takes a step forward, you can’t help it—your heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Easy, it’s just me,” he murmurs gently, like you’re a skittish animal, and you’re suddenly aware that he’d heard your heart leap. His eyes finally drop to your neck and hold there. “Yeah sweetheart, it’ll help. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Your next breath is shaky. You know he hears that, too.

“Will it hurt?” You ask, quiet.

His eyes flick up to yours long enough for you to see a wave of red flood through them completely until they’re so dark they’re almost black. He steps close enough to lean down and nuzzle against your throat. 

“A little,” he breathes, his lips brushing your skin in an apologetic kiss. His tongue comes out to lick along your pulse when it jumps at his words and touch. “At first. God, I’ll make it good though, I promise, please just—let me. Let me.” 

His voice has a tiny, desperate whine to it, and you can only shiver when you feel the points of his teeth come to rest against your skin like he already knows you’ll say yes. When you finally nod just enough for him to feel it, you barely get the word “yes” out before his hand is coming up to the other side of your neck to hold you still, and then he’s biting down.

He’s right. It does hurt at first, but in a strange, subdued way. Like two small blades sinking into your neck, except they’re so sharp you barely feel it as they split your skin. The pain is almost sweet, somehow. 

His teeth withdraw and then you can hear the soft, wet noises of his mouth and tongue on your neck; it’s hard to reconcile what’s happening with the pull under your skin, the strange suction as the blood is pulled from you. It’s like he’s working you from the inside and out—the hot slide of the blood in your veins before it passes through the holes into the equally hot slide of his tongue and down his throat.

It’s far more intimate than you expected. Visceral and primal, somehow, this new way you’ve given your body to him.

You can’t help the strangled gasp you make, and when your hand raises up to grip his arm, he pulls away immediately. That shadowy pool-of-blood color fades until you can see the sharpness with which he watches you, scanning you over. You feel a trickle of blood trail down your neck; when you lift your hand to wipe it away, he snags your wrist out of the air, threads his fingers through yours, and brings your joined hands around to rest at the small of your back. It’s a gentle way of holding you in place, firm enough for you to relax into.

He ducks his head and licks over the skin on your neck. The idea that he’s cleaning you up should maybe gross you out but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it sends something swooping through your gut, fever-hot, and you realize—oh, fuck, you like this.

When he pulls away from you, you stare up at his face as you’re hit with a strange sensation on your neck—as if the skin is knitting together somehow, closing up and scabbing over. You raise your free hand up to check your neck only to feel half-healed skin instead, as if the pin prick holes are already days old. He grins when you look back up at him in confusion.

“The venom has, uh, healing properties,” he answers your unasked question. “Apparently it's how enough venom can turn someone. Healing the body before it can ever break down enough to die or something, you know?”

You swallow hard at the casual tone in his voice. You don’t want to think about him dying but you don’t know what to say, so you just nod. He watches you carefully for a moment before sliding a hand up to cup the back of your neck and pull you in for a kiss.

“Are you okay?” He asks against your mouth.

Again, you nod. “I’m okay. It was—” you search for the right words, trying to ignore the way you feel the healing wound pull slightly when you swallow hard. “—nice. It felt… not good, but uh. Intense, I guess. Deep.” 

Your cheeks heat a bit but he only smiles and hums in understanding. 

“For me, too,” he agrees. While he tilts his head to kiss under your jaw, you wonder idly what it must be like for him, to bite into flesh and drink the hot liquid lifeforce underneath. You’re thinking about what the texture of blood might feel like, when he sighs into your skin and adds, contemplatively, “You’re sweet.”

You flush happily with the endearment. “I just wanted to help.”   

He meets your eyes again, smiling wickedly. “You did help. Very much. But I meant you taste sweet.”

Your heart pounds again at that, and he hums and taps a finger against your pulse to the beat. 

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, distractedly, more to himself than to you. “Like burnt, melted sugar.”

You don’t know what to say to that, and he seems to know that. He leans down to kiss you again and says, so quiet you barely hear him, “Thank you.”

And you can’t help but relax into him.

+

The first time he drinks from you while fucking you, he’s otherworldly.

“This seems like overkill,” you say, trying not to laugh as you sit on the bed, watching him line water bottles, a bowl of fruit, and a package of your favorite cookies on the nightstand. He’s already put a towel down next to the bed. “You’re not a blood donation center, you don’t have to give me cookies.”

He throws you a grin and shrugs. “I don’t know what this’ll be like. I’ve never done this before and I just, I don’t know. Need to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, fond despite yourself. “I trust you.”

It was you who finally asked for this but he hadn’t taken any convincing, so you get the feeling he’s just been waiting for you to bring it up, to make the first move. Now that it’s going to happen, his need for preparedness and eagerness to do this right for both of you is endearing. The pillows are soft when you lean back against them, letting your knees fall wide and enjoying the way he watches the movement. 

“Come here.”

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside before crawling over you; you get your arms around his neck and pull him down. He meets you easily for a kiss that doesn’t take long to turn filthy with your gasp when he gets a hand into your hair and tugs gently, and his tiny moan when you nip at his lower lip and meet his tongue with yours.

Without pulling away from your lips, he snakes a hand down to the inside of your knee and pushes your leg open to make more room for himself. He settles his hips just under yours and thrusts up, and you can’t help but rock down in return just to feel him start to harden and press against you through his sweatpants. A gasp escapes you into the kiss when he nudges against your clit through the layers of clothing. 

When he pulls away, his hand falls from your hair to rest at your throat.

“Here,” he says quietly, tapping two fingers on your pulse there. His other hand trails up your knee and stops at the top of your inner thigh, where he taps two fingers again. “And here. Okay?”

Your heartbeat picks up immediately and you know he hears it but you don’t care. You swallow hard against the lump of anticipation lodged in your throat, meet his eyes, and nod.

“Good,” he says in a low, pleased tone that sends a happy little shiver down your spine.

His hand leaves your throat so he can lean up on that hand like he needs a better angle—and then he kisses you again like that will distract you from the way his other hand slides up from your thigh to dip under the waistband of your shorts, like it’ll stifle the little noise of surprise when he cups you with his whole hand, curling his fingers down and into you only to the first knuckle. You arch up into his hand as he flexes his fingers to tease between your hole and clit. You’re wet enough already that he can gather some of it on his fingertips and drag the wetness up over your clit, where he circles lightly a few times before dragging his hand from your shorts. He smirks at the way your breathing goes high and quick just from the brief feel of his hand on you.

“Tease,” you huff, and his smirk widens into a grin.

“You think so?” He says, mock thoughtfully, as he sits up and tugs your shorts off your hips, all the way down your legs until he can throw them off to the side. And then he’s shuffling back on his knees, dropping both hands to the insides of your knees, and spreading you wide for him. He spends a few moments just looking at you while you try not to squirm.

It’s uncomfortable, and yet somehow it sends fire through your gut. You can feel his gaze like a tangible weight. You’re not sure if you like the way he’s openly studying you or not, but you want to be what he needs, so you hold still and let him look. You shift a little when he runs a finger lightly right down the very center of you like he just wants to test what you feel like. You shiver, and then he leans down, presses a kiss to the inside of your upper thigh, and lowers his mouth to you. 

Your skin is so heated that his mouth feels almost cool, and you moan when he tongues at your clit in a touch so gentle that you writhe up against him, seeking more until he weaves his arms under your thighs to clutch up at your hips and hold you down on the bed. No matter how hard you arch up against him, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s stronger than you. If he wants you held down and open for him, then that’s what you’ll be. 

You know you’re lucky because not only is he good at this, but he enjoys it. You laugh breathily at the reminder of that fact when you feel his fingers at your hole—only for your laugh to cut off in a sigh when he slides a finger into you. He immediately crooks his finger up and pets right over your g-spot, as if it’s second nature for him to make you feel good with how well he knows your body by now. As if it’s his goal and his right to watch you throw your head back against his pillows.

And then he buries his face against you and groans softly like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

You gasp at the vibration of the enthusiastic noises he makes. Your hands drop to stroke through his hair, pushing it back from his face so you can watch the way his eyes go half-lidded up at you, his mouth working, forearm flexing as he works another finger into you. The way his nose is crushed against you sends the heat of his heavy breaths in waves over your skin and you are so lit up, up, up for him that you just know you won’t last long with his fingers in you like this.

Or his teeth, you realize as you become aware of the feeling of him rubbing two fingers into the skin of your upper thigh. Your clit throbs between his lips when your heart hammers, remembering what’s about to happen, and suddenly you want it so badly you can barely breathe. Either your anticipation is contagious or he’s already as eager for this as you are, because he licks a final, slow stripe up from where his fingers are pressed inside you up to the top of your clit, which he sucks briefly, humming just for the way it makes you arch up and moan—before he finally lets go to trail kisses over to your inner thigh instead, his fingers still moving inside you. 

It’s thrilling, the way he nuzzles against your thigh like he’s savoring the feel—or smell?—of you.  When he starts to suck a bruise into your skin, it’s like a tiny electrical current fires up your thigh and into your clit, down through to where he’s still fucking you on his fingers. He curls them up to drag against your g-spot so perfectly that you sob and try to twitch your hips up every time.

By the time he licks over the new bruise and shifts his mouth just a little lower to a clear patch of skin, you’re feeling dizzy in the face of your looming orgasm. You’re so ready for his bite, so eager to find out what it feels like, that when he scrapes his teeth over your skin and looks up to meet your gaze, you’re nodding before he even asks the question. 

He asks anyway. “Are you sure?”

“Do it. Please, I’m ready,” you say, because you think you are. 

When he bites through the thin, sensitive skin into the flesh of your inner thigh, though, you can’t help the whimper that escapes you or the way your fingers tighten hard in his hair. It’s the same razor-sweet sharpness you’ve felt in the past when he’s bitten into your neck or your wrist—only here, while you’re naked and spread wide for him and already close to coming on his fingers, it’s like lightning jolting up through you. Like that thin electrical current that had formed alongside the bruise he gave you has now been amplified to a sparking livewire between your clit and where his fangs pierce your skin.

His head jerks a little in your hold when you tug on his hair, and his fingers freeze inside you when he pulls his teeth out, seals his mouth over the wounds, and sucks hard. There’s a breathless, still moment while he gets his first taste of you, and then his eyes glaze over with that eerie red-black color and he whines into your skin; he scrambles to get his free hand under your thigh and pulls you harder against his face.

With every heartbeat, you can feel the blood thrum through your groin, then down your thigh to pulse in thick rushes against his lips and tongue when he sucks on the holes he made in your skin. It’s a hot, liquid feedback loop that has your head spinning, and you clench down around his fingers because you’re close, you’re so close—

“Please, god, I’m so fucking—,” you babble through your open-mouth panting, so caught up in the way he’s playing with your body like he knows just how to curl his fingers and exactly how to twirl his tongue over your skin to make you moan and fall apart for him. 

He sucks one final mouthful of blood from your inner thigh before pulling away, panting for air while your eyes catch on how red and wet his lips are. He licks a flat strip over the punctures—and then without waiting to make sure the holes have begun healing, he presses his face between your legs again. His lips close around your clit, sucking messily at the same time he fucks his fingers in and out of you, urgent and deep like he’s frantic to get you there, desperate to see you come.

It feels so deliriously good that you’re already teetering on the edge of your orgasm when he eases down onto his stomach between your legs; between one thrust and the next, he slides a third finger in alongside the other two, dragging hard over your g-spot with each stroke. After that, all it takes is one glance down at him to see the way his hips are grinding down against the bed like he’s so hard right now that he can’t help but seek friction—and then he’s pressing his free thumb to the healing puncture wounds on your thigh and you are launched over the edge into your orgasm.

It explodes through you so violently that you arch off the bed, gasping around a high moan and pulling him into you by your hold in his hair, grinding against his face as he moans and curls his fingers inside you and stares up at you, rapt, like he would rather die than miss this. 

You can feel his heavy gaze the whole time you ride down the peak of your orgasm, his fingers slowing into long strokes that ease you through it. Finally, you tug on his hair when you’re twitching through the aftershocks and he pulls away from you, panting. He rests his forehead against your thigh while he catches his breath; finally he says, “Fuck,” and looks up at you with his normal, clear eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree faintly, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm and the memory of his teeth in you, his tongue working against you in such different ways.

You glance down at him, gently stroking your fingers through his hair. His eyes are lazy and satisfied from where he looks up at you between your thighs. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, his lips red and swollen, and his hair is growing messier by the minute from your wandering hands. You can’t stop staring at the way his mouth and chin are still wet with your slick and a little bit of leftover blood. 

He looks good like this, you decide. Really good.

Movement catches your eye over his shoulder, and when you lift your head to look down his body, you see his hips still working against the bed like he’s not even conscious of it. It sends a strike of need through you so strong that you can’t help but tighten your grip in his hair and tug him up. He goes easily, crawling up your body to get his mouth on yours, and when you deepen the kiss, his tongue tastes sweetly metallic.

“Fuck me,” you say.

He nods eagerly, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel his hard cock through his sweatpants. You push at the waistband, tugging them down his hips demandingly, and he shifts back to pull them down and kick them off the bed. Then he’s naked and hard and kneeling over you, looking at you the way a starving wolf must look at an unsuspecting bunny.

It’s a heady feeling, having that intensity turned on you, so you bask in it and let him take over.

He flips you over with a hand at your side, then pulls you back toward himself and tugs at your hip insistently enough for you to understand—you lift up just enough for him to shove a pillow under your hips. He takes a second to position you how he wants you, hitching your hips up and back toward him. He pushes your thighs together and throws a leg over you so his knees are against the outsides of your thighs and he can really lean over you. You expect the feel of his cock nudging at your hole so you’re surprised when he slips two fingers into you instead, like he just wants another feel. It’s an easy slide; you’re slick enough, wet with his spit and your blood and how much you need him to fuck you right now, come on. 

He pulls his fingers free, strokes that slickness over his cock a few times, and lines up. Even though you’re so keyed up and ready for him that you might spark and explode, you immediately clench down when you feel him press against you, throwing a smirk over your shoulder at him. 

You know he likes it when you make him work for it, sometimes, and this definitely seems like one of those times; you know you’re right by the way he murmurs, almost playful, “Let me in.” He presses a little harder against you until you feel yourself start to give. “Come on baby, let me in, let me—fuck yeah,” he groans then when he pulls your thighs open just a little and thrusts against you just enough for his cockhead to finally pop in and he can slide in, smooth and sudden.

It’s so good you both moan with it. Fucking finally, you think, once he’s as deep as he can get and rocking his hips just a little to let you both get used to the feel of it. Then he’s slowly pulling back, back, back—until he’s all the way out again and huffing a low laugh when you whine at the loss. He presses his cockhead against you again, so close to pushing inside that it’s cruel, the way he’s holding you down by the hips when you try to rock back onto him.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and you’re about to snap back at the amusement you can hear in his voice when he eases back into you, slower this time like he wants to make you feel every inch. 

You gasp and drag his pillow toward yourself, clenching your fists in it just to have something to hold onto. Once he’s fully inside again, he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s sweet and still for a moment before he sits up, gets a tight grip on your hips, and starts to fuck you.

You drop your head and moan into the pillow that smells like him, arching your lower back just a little bit more off the pillow under your hips; you can’t help the high moan that escapes, louder, when he drags directly across your g-spot with every thrust. Just like that, you sink against the bed, loose-limbed and pliant in his hold, and let him make your body feel good.

It’s always easy to get lost in it with him—tonight is no different, but it’s more. You can’t stop the gasps and breathy moans that fall from your mouth; not now, not when you’re surrounded by him like this. Even when you turn your head on the pillow and stare to the side, you’re still surrounded by the smell and feel of him. 

You’re aware, distantly, that he’s still holding back, and that he’s still so much stronger than you even know. But even so, he’s rougher than normal, fucking you in long, harsh strokes that jerk you forward each time. It’s not long before his hand slides all the way up from your hip into the back of your hair so he can yank your head back. He leans low over your back to nuzzle his face into your exposed neck, and when he breathes in heavily you realize—holy fuck, he’s smelling you. Your already-pounding heart starts to hammer against your ribs and you rock your hips back to meet his thrusts, and you can’t focus on anything except himhimhim—so ready for him to bite down that it makes you throb around him—

But then he’s slamming in hard once, holding for a few agonizing moments while you squirm against him, seeking friction with a desperate whine—before he’s pulling all the way out with a gasped, “Fuck!” and flipping you onto your back.

It’s urgent, now, the way he shoves the pillow under your hips and tugs you toward him. He shifts forward on his knees between your legs so he can pull your thighs over his, and then he’s leaning forward and burying himself inside again with a groan like even those few seconds were too long to not be inside you.

This new angle forces him to drag insistently across your g-spot with almost every thrust and you know immediately that you won’t last long like this. Your eyes roll back but you can feel his gaze on you anyway, watching while your brows curve in and how your jaw drops open on moans growing louder by the second.

He slows his thrusts into long, smooth rolls so that you’re held steady when he leans down to get his lips on your neck. It’s all you can do to hold onto his shoulders, and when your nails scrape down his back again, he shivers against you with a low moan. 

“Tell me again,” he says, licking at your pulse.

You don’t hesitate. “Do it, please do it, pl—” you cut off in a strangled whimper when he gets one hand in your hair, tugs your head to the side to make room for himself, and bites down.

It’s blindingly, stunningly euphoric. His teeth split the skin of your neck so gently—such a drastic comparison to the way he’s fucking you—and you feel the way he sucks hard over the wounds all the way down into your clit. Your hand flies down to circle frantically over your clit, listening to his heavy breaths and the messy sound of his mouth on your skin, the wet noises his throat makes as he swallows your blood. 

It’s too much, it’s all too much, it’s beautiful and horrible and deep and intense and you’ve never felt anything like this before as he fucks you hard and drinks from you and you love it—but then he licks over the puncture holes and pulls back from your neck to gasp against your collarbone. The holes on your neck ache as they stitch together, and you gasp against the sensation. 

You can tell he’s close by the way he slides both arms up under your back to get a grip on the top of your shoulders and hold you secure against him. He ducks his head and his fangs re-pierce your neck through the half-healed holes—you’re surprised when it hurts more than the first time he bit you a few moments ago. You gasp and squirm against him but his hold on you is tight. He sucks at the holes for a brief moment then presses his tongue against them like he’d only needed a taste, before he drops his forehead against the pillow next to you and slams his hips against yours so hard you can hear it. 

He wastes no time in launching into a brutal rhythm, and with his face down by your ear, you can hear every noise he makes—a breathy gasp when you dig your fingers into his ass to urge on every thrust, a choked moan when you tilt your hips up and clench around him. You turn your head enough that you can get your mouth on his neck, licking over the sheen of sweat there before you bite him back. Your teeth do no damage, of course, but the heartstopping little whimper he lets out nearly sends you over the edge right there.

He’s never fucked you like this before, so desperate and fevered like he wants to put you through the mattress—and you can’t think, can’t do anything but choke on each breath and dig your nails into his back and scrape them down his sides and shiver at the ragged, guttural edge to his responding groan against your neck. You do it again and his hips twitch; his breaths are coming high and quick and you can feel how close he is, so all you have to do is tilt your head to the side so your bloody throat is bared to him and let a soft, shaky moan out against his ear so he can hear how good he’s making you feel, and that’s it. 

He presses his face into your neck with a choked-off groan, wet and filthy and smothered against your skin. His hands fly down to grip your hips and pull you down on him at the same time his hips jerk forward until he’s so deep it almost hurts—and he holds there, his hips just barely moving as he comes inside you.

Every tiny thrust is punctuated by breathy little moans while he uses you to ride out his orgasm, grinding in slowly like he can’t get close enough to you. Like he would crawl his way inside you if it were possible, if you’d let him, and you’re close—you’re so fucking close with the way he’s still rocking against you like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and you’re right on the edge of your orgasm when suddenly his mouth is at your throat again; he chases a trail of blood sliding down your neck with his tongue before his lips close around the wound again and then he bites gently and sucks hard and your orgasm hits you like a tsunami, and you are gone. 

You think maybe you scream a little, because he groans in response and starts thrusting a little harder to fuck you through it. It’s good, it’s so fucking good that right at the peak of it, your vision whites out and you wonder, far off and detached, about what this must do to your blood.

It’s clearly something great, you think dizzily as you start to come down from it all, because he’s still buried against your neck, licking slowly over the blood leaking from the bite.

“Fuck, you have no idea what it tastes like when you come like that,” he rasps, voice wrecked and with a faint whine that would sound like he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way he closes his mouth over the holes and sucks again.

You hum in relaxed satisfaction and bring your arms up around his shoulders, luxuriating in the skin contact and the grounding weight of him. You scratch lightly over the back of his head until he shivers against you. Your skin thrums, lit up and abuzz everywhere you’re touching as you breathe against each other.

After a few moments, his hands trail up from your hips. One gets a hold on one of your wrists from around his neck and pushes it down against the sheets; the other hand rests heavily across your collarbone.

He’s leaning on you just hard enough that breathing starts to take some effort, so you say, “Okay,” and tug on the back of his hair with your free hand.

He doesn’t pull back. You can feel the tip of his tongue working against one of the holes in your neck, dipping in just a bit until the sensation teeters on the edge of queasy pain. You make a strangled little noise but still, he doesn’t pull away from the messy wet heat on your neck. 

“Hey, okay,” you mutter again, tugging harder on his hair and at the back of his neck, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. “Baby please, enough, you—you gotta—” your voice trails off in a weak slur and your grip loosens in his hair. 

He’s been hesitant to bite you while fucking you ever since he drank from you for the very first time, and you wonder maybe if this is why. If this is what he meant when he’s always said, it’s… overwhelming. But you’d meant it when you told him you trust him with this—and even now when your mind wanders and your body thrums lazily while his mouth works at your neck, you still trust him to get himself under control.

After all, this is him. You trust him—you always have. You’ve known him for what feels like a very long time, both before and after he changed into what he is now. You’ve been figuring this out together: what works and what doesn’t, what he needs and how much he can take from you to satiate that need without endangering you. There have been a few moments of trial and error that led to learning where the line crosses over into him taking too much from you. 

You like him like that, though, after those few rare times when he’s accidentally taken too much, leaving you woozy and exhausted. He gets sweet. There’s something protective and reassuring in the way he dotes, and in how he doesn’t let you lift a finger for a day or two after while you recover. He’s always kept himself under enough control before that it has never occurred to you to feel worried around him.

But now, while he’s got one hand flat across your collarbone and the other holding your wrist down to the sheets—now, while his lips work at your throat, the rush of blood so close under your skin as he pulls it from you and rhythmically swallows—now, as you realize you’re a little lightheaded, and wondering, huh, when did that happen? 

Now, a traitorous little flicker of unease settles in your gut.

You push weakly at his shoulder but it does nothing; it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. His hips are still absently grinding against yours like he can’t help it, like despite the fact that he’s half-soft at this point, it hasn’t even occurred to him to stop moving. The hand on your collarbone trails up to grip your jaw, two fingers sliding into your mouth to rest on your tongue and hold your jaw open like a reminder to breathe—or maybe it’s just another way he wants to be inside you. 

His fingers or cock, his tongue or teeth—it’s like he doesn’t know how to hold back from pushing his way inside anyway he can.

A stifled whimper escapes you as he hums into your skin and sucks unhurriedly. He’s holding you tightly, pressed down against the bed. Twisting under his grip does nothing to throw him, and trying to get your wrist free is a useless attempt. He’s strong—you sometimes forget just how inhumanly strong he is, when he usually touches you so delicately, with such control and care. 

Right now, while you’re held down under him, still on his cock and with his teeth in your neck—you are forcefully and viscerally reminded that he is not human. He really could kill you like this, if he decided he wanted to. 

The thought sends a rare jolt of curious fear through your gut. You’re well and truly caught under him—all his to do whatever he wants with. It’s an alarming, confusingly heated realization that has you twitching your hips up to meet his lazy post-orgasm ruts at the same time your heart starts to pound with instinctual panic. 

You wonder distantly if maybe fear does something to your blood too, because only a few heartbeats after the thought crosses your mind, he’s ripping his mouth away from you with a curse and leaning up on his elbows to look down at you with rapidly clearing eyes.

He must see something on your dazed face because he curses under his breath again and his hand comes up to cup your chin. With his thumb on one side of your jaw and his callused index finger on the other side, he gently tilts your chin up and over to expose your neck fully to him. He hums and ducks close to lick flat and warm over the holes in your neck. To heal, not to taste. 

You feel the same strange sensation as every other time—that same tickle of the skin knitting together and the blood flow stopping under the sore, healing skin. He keeps licking at you, cleaning the last of the blood from your skin before pressing a gentle kiss first to what’s left of the wound, then up under your jaw, then leaning up even further to press his lips to yours. You’re still a little faded and sluggish but you kiss back as best you can, and you know that when he pulls away with a soft red smile, you smile back at him with blood on your lips.

Your thoughts are fuzzy around the edges, your vision tunneling on him like he’s magnetized, your mind pleasantly blank as you watch him like you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, your mouth again. When he pulls back, he seems a little dazed too in the way his mouth is open and pink, his eyes half-lidded and only half-focused like he’s high on whatever was in your blood.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, an odd plea to his voice. “That was—fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how it would be. I could have—“ he cuts himself off and swallows hard. He ducks to check the healing wound on your neck like he’s making sure it’s still working. “Are you okay?” 

You hum absently. He starts to pull out but you’re quick to tighten your legs around him, holding him close. “Don’t,” you mumble. “‘M okay, just… stay.”

He watches you for a moment before kissing you again. He could easily break your hold on him and pull away, especially with how weakened you are right now, but he doesn’t. He lets you keep him close and returns the favor, holding you tight and rocking his hips to push all the way back inside you. You sigh and settle back against the pillows to bask in the feeling of him holding you down, grounded and safe. 

He leans up onto his elbows and reaches for one of the water bottles he’d lined up on the nightstand, cracking the cap before holding it gently against your mouth for you to drink. The berries from the bowl come next, and after feeding you a few, he settles back over you and sighs.

With his thumb running over your cheek, you drift. 

Maybe it’s the blood loss and two really fucking good orgasms, or the way he’s still inside you, your legs hitched up around his hips while he takes care of you, but your fear is gone as quickly as it started. This is still him. He still looks like himself, tastes like himself, smells and feels and acts like himself. Still in control of himself, even if belatedly. It’s him, and you know you’re safe. 

But in that single moment, that instinctual awareness shifted something aside in your gut. Yes, he is still himself, but that brief flicker of prey instinct was an unexpected, immediate reminder that he is not human. There is something other about him. 

You knew this already, but now you know it. You’ve felt it in the strength of his grip around your wrists  and in the close, fleshy sound of his teeth in your neck.  And, startlingly, it’s intriguing. You are safe with him. You know this in your gut. You have no reason to be afraid of him, but… what if you did? 

Flashes of what-ifs begin to crash through your mind: thoughts of him holding you down with all his strength, letting you thrash and fight against his grip until you’re too exhausted to hold him off from tugging your pants down and using you however he wants; the network of bruises his fingerprints could leave on your throat and arms and thighs, and the way they’d ache deliciously for the next few days; the way his back would look scratched bloody from your nails, and the sounds he might make—guttural growls and savage snarls against your neck as he fucks you like you’re both nothing more than animals.

What it would feel like if he looked at you with eyes red-black with wicked intent and said, run. How your heart would pound as he gave you a thirty-second head start as if you had any chance of outrunning him, as if he knew that the desperation that would build within you in those thirty seconds would flavor your blood so sweetly. 

What it would feel like for him to hunt you down like prey.

It’s like the door to something dark and primal in your brain and your gut is slowly unlocking as you consider the possibilities of what could happen if he leaned into his natural instincts. If he acted like the apex predator he is.

You shiver. He notices and presses a gentle kiss to your hair.

“Your heart’s racing,” he says curiously. “What’re you thinking about?”

And really, how could you ever ask him for something like that?

You file it away to think about more later. For now, you simply squirm against him contentedly and say, “Nothing.”

He leans up on his elbows and says playfully, “I don’t believe that for a second,” but he leaves it alone in favor of giving you your favorite of all his smiles.

It's the big grin that always makes you smile and laugh in response. It’s a cheesy smile, overexaggerated and goofy, but you love it. It’s cute, how he squeezes his eyes shut and his nose scrunches up, but there’s something sweeter about this smile in the way he’s showing you all his teeth, the fangs prominent and obvious. Almost as if it’s to make you laugh as much as it is a show of comfort and gentle vulnerability. It’s an “I trust you to see me” reminder that makes your heart feel huge as your eyes soften on him.

You pull him down again to kiss the smile off his face, and again, you relax into him. Again, and again, and again.

[partypuppynastja]

When overuse of AGAB becomes transphobic

So, it's often said in trans circles that "we should never have let cis people know about AGAB as a phrasing", but I've lately encountered a few cis people not understanding why. So, a few points of note:

It sets up a new pseudo-gender binary that effectively imagines a world without trans people, "ok if it weren't for all this trans nonsense, what gender would you be then?"

It ends up being a woke dressing of TERF perspectives. AGAB becomes for would-be trans allies, what "biological sex" is for TERFs. Something simple, binary, and immutable. Whereas TERFs do not recognise that sex and biology are almost as complex as gender and sociology, would-be trans allies now skip straight to the same conclusion (and same real-world results of invalidation and discrimination) with different words and without being so science-denying as TERFs.

It creates false social categorisation rooted in presumed biological reductive essentialism. AFAB becomes shorthand for "people I think of as women and lump together despite their only point of critical commonality being a matter of dubious bureaucracy, usually decades ago", and likewise contrariwise for AMAB.

A penstroke decades ago is almost never, actually, what the speaker means to talk about. Please consider saying what you mean, instead.

"I've only ever been with AFABs"—the very use here shows how an adjectival past participle has become a stand-in for a noun, or else how could it be countable? Those people were assigned female at birth, they aren't assigned-female-at-births. Nor would "...with AFAB people" be a big improvement because it's just letting "AFAB" (merely a description of what was written on a certificate long ago) stand in as a placeholder for what a TERF would call "biologically female" (regardless of actual biological sex, because the assignation at birth is what's important to them too, not facts or real biology beyond a primary-school textbook level). So it's abusing the term already, and chances are you didn't ask your partners about their birth certificates, you just assumed.

"I didn't know AMAB people could lactate"—what you probably meant to say was something to do with anatomy or hormones, not bureaucracy. You must realise it's not a certificate that allows or disallows lactation, so figure out what you meant, and say that.

"I'm only attracted to AFAB people"—really? The certificate's the qualifying factor for you? Not their anatomy, not their hormones, not their general appearance, not their physique or genitals and even, perish the thought, their personality? It's the certificate that does it for you? Probably not. Just say what you mean, instead.

"Should AMAB people be allowed to... [thing that has female-only as its qualifying characteristic]?" again, is that penstroke the real matter at hand, or were you thinking about dicks, or extant/recent social roles, or something else? Just say what you mean in a way that refers to the actual people you mean.

Etc

One final criticism is that AMAB and AFAB have the same quirk as MTF and FTM when describing trans people—it centres that wrong gender for us. That M or F at/near the front there stands out and says "this is the bit we really need to focus on".

A TERF would say (with a degree of inaccuracy, but what do they know) that I am biologically male (tell that to dozens of hormonally-directed factors of my anatomy and physiology, but again, what do they know).

A would-be trans ally, slightly better-versed perhaps in how biology works, would instead dodge science entirely, and skip straight to bureaucracy, and call me AMAB. Why are you centring maleness like that? What has that to do with me? What is that "M" doing anywhere near me? Most circumstances, it suffices to call me a woman. Sometimes, it might be relevant to call me a trans woman.

Note: it does not mean that people who use AMAB/AFAB, or even MTF/FTM, are intentionally transphobic, and yes, some trans people will use those terms sometimes. What I am saying here is they're usually misused as a euphemism for something else, and almost always harmful in some fashion. Transphobia exists whether it's intended or not, and yes, sometimes it can come from inside the house.

And yes, sometimes it's just convenient, and occasionally it will really be what's relevant. But, especially if you're a cis person, please consider whether you're saying what you mean, or whether you're just euphemising an imprecise generalization.

Genuinely inclusive, non-invalidating, harm-minimizing language means sometimes using words that you might have been embarrassed to say as a child, and sometimes the context calls for it. Sometimes you really do mean people with dicks. Sometimes you really do mean people who menstruate, who have prostates, who have uteruses, who etc etc.

Note that in many of those cases, would-be trans allies might be quick to generalise inaccurately as "people with dicks = AMAB" (not true, not all people who were assigned male at birth have dicks, and not all people who have dicks were assigned male at birth), "people with uteruses = AFAB" (not true, not all people who were assigned female at birth have uteruses, etc)

tl;dr:

only babies are AMAB or AFAB. The rest of us are no longer "at birth". Consider updating re who and how the person is now.

AMAB and AFAB tend to be stand-ins for what TERFs would call "biologically male" and "biologically female". Consider not thinking about us the way TERFs do, just without the appeal to inaccurate misunderstandings of science.

AMAB and AFAB emphasise "M" and "F", and when applied to trans people, almost always backwards, and becomes misgendering with extra steps. Please don't do that.

What someone wrote on our birth certificates decades ago is almost never actually really the criterion for whatever you're talking about. Please just say what you mean, instead. Be brave (and as a bonus, you'll be more accurate and communicate better too).

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being Alexis Rose's Trans Boyfriend

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

NOTE: While this was written more with binary trans men in mind, I hope this is also suitable for AFAB nonbinary trans people who are masc, male adjacent or otherwise identify with masculinity in some way. I consider myself nonbinary and possibly transmasc, and I wrote this with myself in mind, too. I'm also working on an Alexis x nonbinary!reader set of hcs, for AFAB and AMAB enbies alike, so if this doesn't work for you, stay tuned for that!

Relationship(s): Alexis Rose x transmasc!reader (romantic)

Warnings: Dysphoria, other slightly negative trans-related stuff. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: So, I'm currently going through a transmasc crisis. Like, I still consider myself nonbinary, but I'm also considering the possibility that I'm more on the dude side of things. I always use the analogy of Kermit the Frog, who's technically a guy, but it's weird to class him as a man because he's a frog puppet thing. To help me experiment and explore, I'm writing some fics with a transmasc reader, since the thing that's got me stumped is struggling to imagine myself as a masculine person in a romantic relationship with any gender. I've already written a set of headcanons using this prompt about Wallace Wells, but I really want to write some more of these for a wider range of characters. I chose to write about Alexis because I'm honestly so in love with her, but I'm struggling to picture myself as a guy sorta thing in a relationship with a feminine woman. So, if you're a trans guy or transmasc looking for some more representation in the fanfic space, feel free to peruse my fandom list and send in a request! My last Schitt's Creek fic flopped but I'm also considering writing a short piece about being Roland and Jocelyn's trans kid and them being confused but supportive, so let me know if you'd be interested in that!)

Alexis has a pretty colourful dating history, as part of her pretty colourful life.

So, being trans doesn’t make you stick out like a sore thumb when comparing yourself to her past boyfriends.

What does make you stick out is the fact that you’re just some guy, and not Brad Pitt or Jared Leto or a prince of a country you probably wouldn’t be welcome in.

Alexis wouldn’t mind that you’re trans.

Even if you don’t pass or don’t present in an overly masculine way, it won’t even cross her mind that you’re trans until you eventually tell her, which would probably be when you’ve been friends for a while.

The revelation won’t change things between you, until you mention something trans-related that she isn’t that familiar with, like dysphoria or something.

I feel like Alexis has some blind spots when it comes to trans people.

She’s experienced a lot in her life, and I imagine she’s been acquainted with at least a few trans people in her time.

But, being trans isn’t her lived experience, and she can be a little oblivious to things that aren’t part of her lived experience.

So, when she can’t do or say anything to help you and can only pretend that she understands, she decides that she needs to learn more about trans people.

She’s too embarrassed to admit to you that she isn’t that knowledgeable about trans people beyond a surface-level understanding.

She’ll try to fill those gaps by asking David questions that he’s mostly equipped to answer as a queer guy who’s been around and dated plenty of trans people, including trans guys.

(She’ll act like she’s not asking for you, though David will quickly realise that’s why she’s so interested in trans people all of a sudden)

But, if/when she starts asking questions about what your transness means specifically for you, he’ll groan and send her away, suggesting that she ask you if you’re open to answering her questions.

She’ll also spend a few late nights on her phone and laptop doing research into trans people and how to support them, and as sweet as David finds it, he does not appreciate the noise of Alexis typing keeping him awake until 3am.

Her sincere curiosity is unexpected but endearing, and if you do end up having a talk with her about your transness, it will be a catalyst in getting you two together, because seeing how much she cares about understanding you makes your heart melt.

Fast-forward to when you’re together.

Johnny and Moira are also a little unsure about the whole trans thing when they find out about it.

Unsure as in ‘we haven’t met many trans people’, not doubtful of its validity.

They’ll go to David to ask him (since he’s the queer one in the family), but Alexis proudly and confidently answers them, much to everyone’s shock and amazement.

David is especially impressed.

Alexis is the epitome of that ‘if I had a lameass boyfriend I would hype him up so much’ post.

You’re literally just some guy, but she introduces you as her boyfriend with so much pride.

She is so supportive of you.

She will not let you be down on yourself, or she’ll absolutely try her best.

She showers you with compliments on a regular day, and this quadruples if you feel particularly dysphoric.

It means a lot because she is completely sincere with everything she says, and she’s naturally very good at saying the right things to make you feel better, even if you might expect her to put her foot in her mouth.

If you’re unhappy with your style, she’ll be beyond excited to take you shopping for new clothes.

If you’re not comfortable going clothes shopping in a physical store, she’ll send you links to clothes she thinks will look good on you but also fit in with your desired style.

David will also gladly offer his assistance, since he considers himself an expert in men’s fashion.

But, they will both reluctantly shut up if their input proves unhelpful to you and goes against what you want to wear.

I’d like to think that most of the residents of Schitt’s Creek would be indifferent to you or supportive of you, but on the off chance that you encounter any transphobia, Alexis will come to your defence with an “um, excuse me?”

If you need a gender affirming haircut, she’ll look into trans-friendly hair stylists and barbers in the area.

If you’d like her to, she’ll accompany you to your appointment, and if you’re more passive, she’ll be assertive on your behalf, because sometimes hairdressers suck at listening to what trans clients want and she will fight for you to have your ideal haircut.

And, when you get the haircut, she’ll give you a kiss and tell you how handsome you look.

If you want to get top surgery, she’ll happily help you do research into different surgeons and look into how to help you when you’re recovering.

Basically, she’s already more than willing to spend half of her day on her phone, and she’s happy to spend a lot of that time looking into trans-related things for you.

It’s more than clear how much Alexis loves you.

She’s your biggest cheerleader, and she’ll always be there to support you.

At the end of the day, you’re her boyfriend, and that’s all that matters.

[velvetvexations]

the thing is I actually know a trans woman who was basically chased out of an online space she' used to been in for years because she toed a little out of line and suddenly there were call outs of ever little thing she did over the past few years mischaracterizing her and even pedojacketing her with 0 evidence, and I do think her being a trans woman was why it was so easy for people to go along with chasing her out, but whether you continued to support her throughout this from what I can tell had a lot less to do with how you identify and more about if you cared about performatively acting like you and your friends have never done anything wrong vs people who actually knew and cared about her more than they cared about their reputation. At the end of the day a lot of people care more about saving their own skin than standing up for their friends across all gender and sexual identities.

But like, when someone says "I've literally seen a trans woman lied about and people believed it" - is it really that trans women are the only people for whom lies are believed about? When I was on Tumblr in the before times, callout culture was at it's peak and everyone was getting blasted every other day, sometimes trans women are going to get canceled, that's how the internet has worked for over a decade. Like, transradfems will say "they'll wait for you to do something problamatic and then turn on you" as if, again, that wasn't just how it works when someone does something problamatic these days!

I'm not saying marginalized identities can't contribute. But are trans women more at risk for this kinna thing than trans men and non-binary people? According to transradfems, the answer is yes primarily because AFAB trans people (they generally treat AMAB NBs like they don't exist) are always able to fall back on their AGAB and portray themselves as victims! Because they're so beloved by transphobes who only want to make sure they're kept safe from trans women. Seriously. That's just fucking bullshit.

This answer is getting increasingly inarticulate. I'm going to play Doom.

[sapphicsvibes]

Okay then, so what do you think of groups that exclude afab people? I've been seeing tons of transfems groups being exclusionary to afab people, but I haven't seen you complaining about that before. Not only is that misogynistic, but it's heavily transphobic. So why just complain about 'afab only groups' if transfems can have anti afab groups?

Gonna try my best to answer this as someone who is not trans fem.

*also I am speaking about perisex people as a perisex person—this post doesn’t have anything to do with, nor am I speaking about intersxism*

But over the past few years, there has been a lot more overtly exclusionary language, like afab, used that often ostracizes transfems from queer spaces. within the trans community, trans women (esp indigenous and black trans fems) are the most oppressed and face the highest level of abuse, violence, homelessness, etc. When I say violence, I also mean vioelnce in the way they are treated within trans/nobinary spaces, and how terf language has become more and more acceptable to use to keep them out.

There are trans and nonbinary groups right now, who use afab as an identity and specifically list trans fems as their oppressors/enemies. These groups/people who identity with the term afab and use it as an identity usually do not want trans fems in their spaces.

And that language isn’t just exclusive to Tumblr.

I remember going to a cafe and saw a flier asking for participating for an autism study, and it’s like ‘we want queer people and women - afab only please’ and no one saw anything wrong with that.

There are afab exclusive trans/queer spaces everywhere and it is so normalized. And it pushes this idea that transfers do not belong in these spaces because they are harmful to afabs.

Meanwhile, transfems are still the most brutalized in the queer community, they still face the most homocides, cases of homelessnesss, etc. they are not represent in legislative spaces and are often denied jobs in queer places. 

The trans/queer community has adopted transmisogynstic language and in using that, has painted trans women as their oppressors and gives transfems no space or platform to feel included. 

And what’s worse is many spaces have started referring to transfems as ‘amab’ when transfems don’t even use that term to refer to themselves because transfems don’t have anything in common with most amab people who aren’t transfem — which a lot of people…don’t get…and idk why….

Anyway, with all that is happening and all that will happen with how terfy trans/queer spaces are—I don’t think it’s wrong that transfems don’t want to be lumped in with people who paint them as oppressors, rapists, and who exclude them. I don’t think it’s wrong for transfems not to want to be lumped in with people from the community who identify with a term that has literally excluded them, and a term that terfs use. With how shitty the trans, queer, nonbinary community treats them, why would they want a space where those very people who excluded them can ruin.

As a black nonbinary transmasc person….I really don’t ever shame groups that kick out their oppressors. Transfems not wanting afab people in their communities when for years, afab people have hurt them, painted these harsh pictures of them, excluded them from trans AND womens spaces while using harmful language isn't bad.

and of course, this wouldn't have been a problem if the term afab stayed in intersex spaces. if perisex non trans fem trans and nonbinary people didn't adopt these terms and misuse them, and make afab a fucking identity that people actually eqaute to being trans masc/nonbinary/ etc.

it's so funny that we have people who call themselves afab, proudly, getting upset that transfems are like 'no afabs please' and having the audacity to call it misognsytic and transphobic.

bitch, you started it in the first place!!!!

[man-squared]

It really baffles me that people wholeheartedly believe that people are only trans-exclusionary redfems if they only are transmisogynistic.

That is a huge part of their ideology, yes, but another big part is that trans people that were assigned female at birth are both "confused little autistic girls who are being forced to mutilate their bodies by the trannies [and they mean trans men here most of the time with trans people who were AFAB]" or "raging delusional misogynistic traitors who embody everything terrible about being a man and use their internalized misogyny to target our poor baby girls."

All trans people threaten their womanhood in similar and different ways, and they use that as a basis for their hatred (it very much seems like toxic masculinity but the woman version - because 'toxic femininity' hasn't really been openly coined or talked about as a concept from what I have seen). They hate us all and it's not trans women-exclusionary redfems; it's trans-exclusionary.

I won't say that they aren't targeting trans people who were AMAB (and gnc women and poc women) in droves, but they also target us in horrific ways. Just because a redfem doesn't say "trans women are men" (a simplification of their behaviors, ideas, and actions) doesn't mean that they don't think it, but also it doesn't automatically not make them T E R Fs when they target the rest of us.

Brought to you by another post that suggested that we shouldn't call people trans-exclusionary redfems if aren't transmisogynistic (I think this post was trying to bring up a good point but flew past it: not all transphobes are redfems -- however, a lot of transphobia is fueled by their rhetoric). Transmisogyny is so important to point out, to acknowledge, to fight against, but it is not the only tool used against us.

And honestly, it feels like we've gotten to a point were some people seem to believe, by what they say, that transphobes would be okay with trans men and other trans people if trans women didn't exist, which is a shitty thing to feel like people are saying about you when your group is being beat to death as well. This is not a women vs men or TME vs TMA or this trans group vs this other trans group issue! This is an issue with trans people, with gender deviants, with people who aren't cis, gender conforming, and white.

Plenty people are able to talk about transmisogyny, or other types of transphobia, or personal transphobia without pushing absolutes onto reality. Transmisogyny must be fought but it cannot be eradicated as an isolated concept.

[juszt-a-liddol-guy]

my take on the silly hedgies………

once again i throw a lazy sketch at yall!! oops!

….anyways i guess i should write abt my headcanons here or smth (that would make sense)

in general,

hedgehogs assigned female at birth grow less fur. their tummies/chests are typically bare as well as their arms, but there’s still a thin layer of velvety fur that blends into the thicker fur around the shoulders and the rest of the body. for beauty reasons, some cis afab hedgies will choose to shave the thin fur so it appears neatly styled. afab hedgies also have naturally occurring downwards-pointed quills that are typically shorter than their amab counterparts, ending around the shoulders or upper back. these can be easily styled into upwards-pointed quills should they choose to.

amab hedgehogs grow more fur and have puffy white chests. their arms and tummies are covered in the same type of fur as the rest of their bodies. as for their quills, they are naturally pointed up and are usually long. if styled downwards, their quills can reach the amab hedgie’s lower back or behind.

taking testosterone can make thicker fur grow on the arms and tummy/chest, among many other side effects. similarly, taking estrogen can thin out coarse fur.

moving on!!

for sonic:

-early to mid 20’s

-goes by he/it pronouns, afab, takes testosterone & has had top surgery

-has autism+adhd, and thanks to trauma from years of fighting — probably riddled with depression or ptsd

-he’s a bit of a clown! sonic likes to make its friends smile, and is really good at cheering others up through humor

-honestly, personality wise, i think of him as being the more mature version we see in the IDW comics or in sonic frontiers. super confident in itself, even if it’s almost guaranteed to be defeated. it will just keep pushing through. this trait can come off as reckless and self-endangering however, and he definitely sits through lectures about this behavior from his loved ones. he is a super high-masking person, and once the mask is on for the day, he finds it very hard to take it back off.

-while it is afraid of being in deeper water, it’s fine taking baths or being in showers and even enjoys reading about fictional creatures that originate from the ocean such as mermaids and sea monsters

-chocolate is just too sweet for him most of the time, but he enjoys a nice pastry or cheesecake

-loves jazzy pop music, alternative rock, 80s music, gentle melodies, and super upbeat EDM. wakes up everyday with a song already playing in its head and thinks of its brain like a radio station that can flip between channels

for shadow,

-older than sonic by a year and a half (not counting the 50 year coma lmao)

-goes by he/they pronouns, afab, used to take T (recently stopped, feels like he doesn’t need it anymore) & has had top surgery

-has autism, dyslexia, generalized anxiety & depression.

-left-handed

-very closed-off individual who finds it very difficult to make new friends. he appears as being very intimidating to people who aren’t familiar with him, especially on days when the flat affect is strong. they’re a pretty serious and literal guy most of the time, but they have their silly goofy moments when around people they really trust and when they’re in the mood for it. they don’t remember much from their past besides the big important parts, and he overthinks about the future a lot, to the point that he can start to cry (in private).

-shadow’s friend group is extremely tight— only sonic, rouge, and omega have been allowed to see underneath the barriers. even despite this, he has trouble opening up to them because he’s afraid of pushing them away or thinks the content he enjoys is too embarrassing to share (even though sonic would go ballistic and enjoy it too, and he knows this, but shadow’s first reaction is still to hide it).

-absolutely adores coffee and sweet things. they have a lot of sensory issues when it comes to vegetables, and normally stick with a diet of primarily pasta, chicken, beef, or rice.

-loves hard rock music, metal, alternative rap, EDM, j- & k-pop / rock, & music that emo teens back in the 2000’s really enjoyed (lol)

[icaruskeyartist]

"Talking about trans men "playing up the F in AFAB" to access women spaces. Please someone send me an ask about this specifically so I have an excuse to go off tomorrow after work."

Fourth time's the charm right?

And I gotta disclaim that I'm one of them transes who sees his past self as the gender he thought he was. Little 11 year old me? Girl. I was a girl up to the point I wasn't and I don't really know where that line is. Somewhere between 19 and 25. But I do call myself AFAB and I do see a lot of my experiences as a child and teen as being both through the lenses of womanhood and closeted/subconscious transness.

So needless to say I'm a little biased and get a little angry when this argument that trans masculine people are trying to play up the F in their AGAB up.

First and foremost, the biggest push away from AGAB language I've seen is from nonbinary and trans masculine folks. So let's jot that down (again though, I have consciously put myself into spaces that allow me to hear these voices over trans feminine voices after nearly a decade of the reverse).

And there's the fact that trans people who present with traditionally "female" reproductive and secondary sex characteristics are typically more vulnerable in men only spaces... we gotta be realistic here. People who look like women are going to be treated like women by strangers and while I'm a firm advocate for not treating all men like dirt... well. We have statistics.

And that's even if there are men spaces... shit like shelters for domestic violence victims oh so rarely allow men in the first place.

Plus, let's not forget a lot of this "playing up the F in AFAB" talk is coming around during the repeal of Roe v Wade in the US, which brought up the discussion of reproductive healthcare and abortion access back into international center stage. We're supposedly leaning on our AGAB by pointing out that We! Need! Healthcare! And our healthcare needs generally line up with those seen as women's only.

A totally stealth trans man who is being denied reproductive healthcare because he's legally a man is going to have to lean on his AGAB to get a checkup with the ObGyn. Otherwise they're not going to see him... because he doesn't look like a woman to him. Sometimes, using your AGAB is necessary, if only because the largely cishet world doesn't get that sometimes women have dicks and men have vaginas, and there are some people who want both or neither.

Finally, and I guess this just irritates me the most because of the above mentioned bias... saying trans masculine and nonbinary folks are playing up their AGAB is outright denying the way so many of us grew up. I was raised as a girl. I was seen as a girl. I had expectations put on me that only women in my small part of Southern Baptist culture would have. I had a promise ring. I memorized the Proverbs 31 wife list. I had nightmares of my wedding night, and I was made fun of and belittled by my own mother for not liking makeup and not taking care of my appearance. My lack of sexual harassment, despite it being a super common thing for girls and women, still has me mentally fucked up despite now identifying mostly male.

I'm not playing up my AGAB by talking about these experiences and saying that I've experienced misogyny because of how I am seen. Claiming the trauma and benefits of womanhood when I saw myself as a girl and when the world sees me as a woman (as it oh so overwhelmingly does currently) is not me trying to play up my AGAB for victimhood points or to access women's only spaces.

Yes, there are trans men, masculine folks, and nonbinary people who were AFAB and currently enter women's spaces where AMAB folks aren't allowed. If I wasn't aware of them before, I certainly am after getting through the first few chapters of Whipping Girl because Julia Serano does not shut up about it. She's clearly salty despite pretending not to be.

But guess what! There's shitty trans women and trans feminine people out there too! Baeddels! TIRFs! The fact that there's shitty trans people like Buck Angel or Caitlyn Jenner is just because they're people! Who happen to be trans! And people will absolutely use whatever they can as leverage to be shitty! That's why there are gay and black Republicans. They leveraged their minority status to become figures in a group that hates them. Shocking.

But for fuck's sake, saying trans men, masculine, and nonbinary folks who happened to be AFAB are trying to express their victimhood through the F in their AGAB both reeks of ROGD as well as a clear yellow flag that maybe

just maybe

these people are trying to find the language to talk about the problems they're facing but people like Serano aren't letting them.

[qweerhet]

what do you think of the argument that being TMA isn't just about what individual randos think of you, but rather about the societal perception of transfems as a whole? so a non-binary person who was AFAB, but has an androgynous appearance and is clocked as transfem will definitely have a shit experience, but they're not raised in a society that explicitly says they're a gross predator who should die (intersecting oppressions notwithstanding), so they're not TMA, even if they get caught in the crossfire sometimes. kind of like sikh get attacked by Islamophobes, but only Muslims are treated as inherently violent and backwards by society at large. I hope I'm conveying it correctly, I'm ambivalent about the whole thing so I'm rephrasing someone else's argument.

eh, i mean, i'm incredibly dubious of the idea that how "individual randos" treat you is meaningfully distinct from how "society as a whole" treats you.

like, you don't really need to be "clocked as transfem" in order to experience transmisogyny, in my experience? it isn't really about people thinking you're a trans woman specifically, inasmuch as it's about the ways that systems are set up to treat people with certain lived experiences.

i.e. if you are a person with tits and a dick and facial hair who identifies as a woman and uses she/her, different parts of society will treat you a certain way regardless of if you were afab, amab, or neither. you're automatically included in any and all "the existence of a penis as violence against women" rhetoric and ideology, for example, and any material fallout of that rhetoric will apply to you as much as it does anyone else with a penis. your assigned gender at birth or identity status as "transfem" or "transmasc" or "intersex" or whatever identity label you choose doesn't really factor into that material experience. you're still a victim of transmisogynistic rhetoric that societally portrays penises as incompatible with womanhood and a threat to other women.

like... yeah, i think transmisogyny is systemic and embedded in how systems treat trans people, i just don't think that an identity label can negate someone being individually affected by those systemic factors. my sister is a transmasculine person who was amab and has been on estrogen + blockers for many many years; when she decided to start identifying as transmasculine, it didn't magically negate all of the systemic transmisogyny she is affected by. (simultaneously, the transmisogyny she faces also doesn't negate the transmisandry she's been dealing with for the past few years, either, but that's a derailment.)

in your example, maybe that nonbinary person is tma? there's a ton of other factors that go into someone's relationship to transmisogyny other than just "has an androgynous appearance," and honestly that's part of why i'm frustrated with trying to boil it down to being about agab or identity labels.

like, is that person gatekept from women's spaces because of their appearance/sex markers? are they portrayed as a sexual predator? do people sexualize even their mundane actions and associate them with sex work, even if they have nothing to do with that line of work? have they been arrested for carrying a condom? do they face extreme bad faith criticism of all their actions, particularly in comparison to the cis women around them? are they treated as disposable within the queer community in a transmisogynistic way? do people perceive their attempts at feminine styles of dress/makeup as failing to be a real woman? are they told that they're too angry, violent, loud, etc, and that these things are because of their "male socialization?" are they experiencing medical transmisogyny? all of these are things that people who were afab can experience, along with people who were amab and people who were neither.

[yukidragon]

Just a curious thought after reading past post of

Alice and Jack having children despite jack being a ghost while Alice is human it possible that Alice can

Have kids even if they genetically inherent jack ability but what if Alice is a male and jack is a woman witch would be Jill.

if Jill wanted kids how could it be possible if Jill the ghost

Ho, ho, ho~! What a fun prompt you've given~ Thank you for giving me the excuse to ramble about the gender bend that I came up with for Alice since Jill was first introduced.

First of all, the male version of Alice is named Arthur King.

Yes, the pun is intentional. It's actually what made me decide on King as Alice's surname.

No, I will not apologize for my love of wordplay.

Speaking of puns and wordplay, the puppet Arthur had as a child instead of Honey Bunny was called Sir Hopsalot. (For my pals who need to use a translator, it's a play on "Hops a lot" and "Lancelot".) As you might expect, it was a bunny dressed as a knight, complete with a felt sword and shield. Eventually I will draw this adorable puppet and a model sheet for Arthur when I can draw again.

Arthur has some small differences between him and Alice, having grown up with a the AMAB societal pressures rather than the AFAB ones. Also certain experiences Alice faced won't apply to Arthur's life and vice-versa. Overall though, he's got generally the same likes/dislikes/personality as his female counterpart. He's still self-conscious about his size and appearance, but he also has added worries about his height on top of his weight. He, like Alice, is pretty short.

Oh, and while I'm at it, if Alice/Arthur was neither male nor female, their name would be Ace. Their puppet would probably be either Honey Bunny or Sir Hopsalot, depending on whether they were AMAB or AFAB since I don't think Ace would really realize their gender identity until they were much older.

Then again... I could just use this as an excuse to make a third, nonbinary bunny puppet.

Or should I say non-bunnary?

No, I will not apologize for that pun either.

Anyway, regardless of gender, Alice is still weak to Jack regardless of his gender. Jill is going to make Alice/Arthur/Ace just as flustered as Jack can.

On that note, since this is a pregnancy headcanon post, there's probably going to be talk of the baby making process and related kinks, so expect some of spicy bits. You can also check out a couple previous happy pregnancy headcanon posts here and here, which also get a bit spicy.

Arthur, like Alice would be keen to have a big family with a lot of kids with his partner, even if it was necessary to use a surrogate or adopt. I imagine Jill would be keen on having kids with her sunshine as well if at all possible.

As I mentioned in the previous headcanon posts, like Jack, I imagine Jill would only be able to get pregnant if her sunshine consents to it. If Arthur/MC isn't ready, it's not happening. Consent is a big part of the character of Jack/Jill after all.

As was mentioned on the official tumblr, Jack can touch and interact with things the more attached his sunshine is to him. "Interact" in the case of pregnancy AUs/headcanons would be, well, getting his sunshine pregnant. It would be the same thing if he were the one getting pregnant as Jill. Pregnancy is combining two peoples' DNA into a biological baby storage container, in a sense. If Jack can make get someone pregnant, then Jill can get impregnated.

Jack, as we've seen from comments made in both the demo and side-game, Sleepy Time Jack, has a heartbeat. He feels warm and solid to his sunshine. He can sweat, has spit, and is capable of producing semen, likely blood too. He has powers that normal ghosts don't possess, which is probably why he's called a ghost(?) on the store page. I think Jack is something more than a ghost, something with the potential to become every bit as real as his sunshine.

So, of course, this would apply to his gender bent counterpart. The more attached MC is to Jill, the more real she becomes. Arthur gets attached to Jill like Alice does to Jack. Jill becomes more and more real to Arthur and after a slow burn romance they fall in love. Once Arthur feels ready for it and is prepared with both money and his job security, he'll want to start having babies with his partner, which Jill would only be happy to do with him.

Arthur would be concerned whether Jill could get pregnant, but she would encourage him that they won't know until they try. Their love is powerful after all. It doesn't matter what the world thinks, all that matters is them and their love.

Oh, and FYI, Jill is still the more dominant one in the bedroom. Arthur, like Alice, is still easily flustered, and Jill is still sneaky and manipulative like Jack - with love of course. Still, Arthur tries his best to pleasure his partner and show lots of love just like Alice does.

Once Jill takes a pregnancy test and it turns out positive, Arthur is stunned, reeling, but so happy. He wants to lift up Jill and spin her around with joy, too choked up to speak, but he's not strong enough. Fortunately, she's got muscles and can spin him around easily.

Jill is not only stronger than Arthur, but taller too, which does leave him feeling self-conscious that he should be more of a "man" for his partner, but she makes sure that he knows he's perfect just the way he is. Men can be sensitive, soft, sweet, and kind too. They can be cuddly and loving and still be a man. After all, he doesn't think of her as less of a woman for being tall with muscles, does he?

Arthur, of course, would insist that's not the case. Jill is gorgeous, practically perfect. He'd fumble to admit that her muscles and height are actually a turn on. He's not into being crushed or choked, but being picked up by his strong partner is just so exciting, even if it makes him feel flustered.

Jill would be trying to still be the one trying to take charge most of the time, taking care of her sunshine, but Arthur would be insisting she rest more for the baby while he takes on the lion's share of the work. He might have gone through a depressed period where he struggled to take care of himself, but Jill helped him appreciate himself more, and he was prepared to step up as a father knowing he had to put lots of work into it. He would try to cook, clean, and help his partner handle any pregnancy cravings and issues that might arrive.

One big hurdle to overcome potentially, if Jill still can't be seen by others even while pregnant, is medical care. They have to take care of her and the baby's health all by themselves. That means researching what nutrition is needed for the baby, what signs to look out for, and generally handle it on their own. Arthur will even have to be the one to deliver the baby, since he's the only one who can, and you bet your ass he'll be studying hard on how to do it right.

Naturally, there would be questions where the baby came from, but that would be something that they would be prepared to handle ahead of time. This pregnancy would only happen after they both had many discussions about it and plans for what they're going to do about the various issues that might come up. Documents can be faked, and Arthur has a big family as well as a few trusted friends who he told about Jill, so they're not alone in this.

Giving birth would hit Jill just as hard as it would Jack, maybe even harder since she would be getting the full force of the pregnancy hormones rather than just some spill over. Their baby looks just like her, or rather just like Josephine, right down to the mole. It would generate a lot of intense emotions, but Arthur would be there to support her and comfort her. There's also the extended family who would be helping support the two with the new baby, even if they can't see Jill.

Jill is at bigger risk of post-partum depression if she still can't be seen after giving birth. Sure, she can talk to other people besides Arthur through writing or passing a message through him, but she's going to be extra needy and clingy with her sunshine. It's something that Arthur would have worried about happening, so he would be extra supportive and attentive to her needs.

Oh, also, since it's something of a tradition in these happy pregnancy posts, there's definitely going to be a lot of pregnancy body worship. Arthur is going to be wanting to cuddle and touch the baby in Jill's belly and letting her know he's so happy that she's carrying their child. He's going to do all he can to make sure she feels loved and appreciated for doing something as demanding as pregnancy and birth.

Also, on a spicier note, Jill is going to encourage Arthur to get a sample of her milk as soon as she's lactating. He's going to struggle to admit it, but he is curious for a taste and when he does, well... he definitely is into the kink. It becomes a regular thing after that, and I'm sure with her powers she'll be able to make sure her sunshine and their baby get plenty of love to drink.

Really, considering we don't know the limits of Jill's supernatural abilities, she might have the ability to lactate even before getting pregnant. Heck, since it's likely that sunshine has summoned her to begin with and is likely responsible for her body existing in the first place, it might be possible for Alice to get Jill pregnant just by them both wanting it. Jack seems to be able to conjure up new outfits after all, like his pajamas and robe, after all, and we still are wondering where the blueberries for the pancakes came from...

Though, to be honest, I suspect that Jack's plan is to eventually be every bit as real as his sunshine, which means Jill would have the same goal. It's entirely possible that by the time Jill and Arthur are committing to expanding their family by having children, other people would be able to see the happy mother-to-be walking around hand in hand with her sunshine for all to see.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[preggo-ace]

hey there! :)

since i'm new here, i figured i'd introduce myself

y'all can call me A if you'd like, and this is an alt blog i'll use for rp and to just explore my more nsfw interests, which will for the most part include pregnancy and birth

if you'd like to rp with me, here's some guidelines before you drop me a message (keep in mind i'm new to this scene, so these may be subject to change as i discover more and get more comfy)

LIKES/OKAY RP'ING

literary rp ; lengths of replies might vary, i'm a writer though so i may get quite descriptive

fpreg, afab nbpreg (this includes ftm don't worry!!)

semi-difficult birth as long as it doesn't end up severely hurting carrier or baby/babies

fantasy scenarios (magic, witchcraft, deities, etc) so long as it's within the bounds of the established universe of our rp ; this can include rapid pregnancy, again as long as it's within established bounds

i'm comfortable playing either the carrier or the carrier's partner, or if we're both carrying simultaneously ; i'd prefer fem x nb/fem x fem in terms of coupling, but if your character is transmasc for example that's okay with me, or we can keep the relationship strictly non-romantic as well

homebirth/medically unassisted birth

birthing multiples ; for now, i'm only comfortable with twins if i'm the carrier, no more than that please

using ocs ; for the time being, i'll be creating entirely new character to better fit our specific plot theme, so i'll more than likely be making up their personality as we go ^^;

LIGHT sex during pregnancy/labor ; i've only recently gotten comfortable writing nsfw myself, so if we rp this, apologies if i'm not very good or am inaccurate, i'm asexual and a virgin please remember!

lengthy rps, though we can start with short scenes to get a feel for things if you'd prefer

long births ; like spending a good chunk of time pushing for example

romance/fluff, especially during birth ; the comfort and encouragement from the carrier's partner yes please!!

clothing birth under specific circumstances that we can discuss ooc

birth denial ; again, under specific circumstances that can be discussed

DISLIKES/WILL NOT RP

mpreg, amab nbpreg ; i'll read it depending on story, but i'm not comfortable rping it

egg laying of any form

monster/creature (mostly referring to aliens, i am down for vamps/werewolves as long as we establish how they work as a species within our rp's universe)

horror preg in general, i don't really care for horror as a genre (except artistic horror and video games)

r*pe/non-con ; absolutely cannot and will not, genuinely makes me sick

video/picture format rp ; i still live with family, plus as stated i'm new to this, and i've only ever done literary rp before, so this format is off the table

anything bdsm related ; i can't name any specific bdsm kinks off the top of my head right now, so i would say in general avoid it if you wanna rp with me

vore, unbirth, anything like that

stuffing, food-related inflation, honestly inflation in general

feces/scat, piss, etc (genuinely find it gross)

anything to do with minors being carriers, sorry not sorry but i won't do that under ANY circumstance ; this isn't to say our plots cannot include characters under 18 (i mean, it IS pregnancy after all), but it'll be a hard no from me if said -18 character is pregnant within our narrative (mentions of a past pregnancy by a character when they were -18 is fine, just don't make it a present plot point is what i'm saying basically)

anything sadistic, i will not do it i don't care

public birth ; idk why it just messes with me, that might be my autism tho lol

detailed gore/injuries ; this includes heavy blood loss, tearing, or anything else in that vein that has the potential to happen during birth (we can further discuss this ooc should the need arise due to our plot, but in general, i don't want it)

hyper-preg ; the 'tism only allows me to suspend my disbelief so much

GENERAL REMINDERS

please be patient with me as i try to gain my footing in this scene

constructive advice on how to create better responses or even drabble prompts are always welcome in my ask box

i am autistic/have adhd, so be aware of that in case i take some time between responses as i can get distracted very easily

^^^ adding to this, i am physically disabled, so if responses take longer from me, there's a good chance i might be at a doctors appointment or just simply don't have the energy to work my brain enough for responses (though i'll do my best to reply as soon as possible!)

i would prefer if we plan out a general plot beforehand, with a few basic beats we wanna hit through the course of rp, just to keep on track

if you want to rp anything i don't have listed in my likes/dislikes, be sure to ask me before implementing it! more than likely, i'll be willing to try it, but that may not always be the case

IF YOU'RE UNDER 18 OR DO NOT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO ANYWHERE, I WILL NOT RESPOND TO A MESSAGE YOU SEND ME. it's nothing personal, i'd just rather only speak to/rp with fellow known adults here

i live in CST and am unemployed (due to physical disability), so i'm active more often than not, however i tend to go to sleep around 1-1:30AM CST. my wake-up times vary, though it's usually around the 7:30-9AM CST range

i don't rp for kink/fetish reasons, which is ironic, i know. but that's not what i'm stepping into this scene for, i'm here because it genuinely fascinates me and i enjoy fantasizing/writing about it (not in a sexual sense) even if i never want to take part in it irl

if you'd like to rp with me, shoot me a message !! promise i don't bite, but i might be a bit awkward at first ^^;