#transman perspective

[trans-axolotl]

my gendered experience growing up as an intersex person was overwhelmingly defined by my responses and resistance to everything that got me labeled as a failure: failure to quickly get a gender assigned at birth, failure to go through a normal puberty and grow up into a woman, failure at meeting the standards for "complete womanhood" because of my intersex sex traits, and yet simultaneously failing to ever be acknowledged as a "real man" and being treated as a threat when I expressed I wanted to transition.

before i realized i was a man and came out as trans, the ways that girlhood was denied to me was very often humiliating and painful. locker rooms filled with other girls were a frequent source of shame. there were many big and small ways that i was told that my intersex body made me insufficient, incomplete, broken. i was forced onto estrogen, forced into shaving my body hair, and was constantly being told to change myself to better fit this mystical idea of a "normal woman." and even though I ultimately ended up becoming a man, the denial of girlhood was painful.

but i think that these things would have been even more difficult to navigate as an intersex girl if on top of everything I already said, i was having to cope with the denial of my girlhood while i was forced into boys locker rooms. if my doctors were forcing me onto testosterone hrt and refusing to even discuss estrogen, if all my legal paperwork had "M" on it and was a logistical nightmare to change, if every support group for my intersex variation labeled it as a "men's support group," if the LGBTQ community spaces i tried to join were misogynistic towards me often to the point of exile, if my self determination as an intersex girl was denied in most spaces of my life, and on and on and on. while listing all these things out i also don't want to make it seem like it's all about suffering and pain--so much of transition for me has been about joy in my self determination and how much it feels like a reclamation of autonomy to decide what I want my body and self to be like--i know this is an experience i share with so many of my trans intersex friends.

as an person who was AFAB, although there were many ways that trying to grow up as an intersex girl were a painful, logistical nightmare, many times and places that i was excluded from woman's spaces, etc. however, there was a simultaneous affirmation that i was right to strive for that in the first place. which is logic rooted in some fucked up compulsory dyadism, but also which would have made some things slightly easier or even possible at all if i had wanted to embrace being an intersex girl within this fucked up system.

pretty much every time i've seen people on tumblr talking about "afab transfems" in an intersex context, people seem happy to collapse these experiences and act like there's no meaningful distinction or point in distinguishing between different types of intersex embodiment. it seems incredibly extractive, to be perfectly honest with you--taking terms already used by a community to make meaning of their experiences and to expand and dilute that term enough that it means something pretty different than the original.

it's making me think about the concept of epistemic injustice, which is a term coined by Miranda Fricker to describe oppression related to knowledge, communication, and making meaning of the world. There's two subtypes of epistemic injustice: testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. Testimonial injustice refers to the dynamic where marginalized people are labeled as not credible, excluded from conversations, and their testimony and knowledge is labeled as unreliable, even when they're the ones who are experts and have first hand experience of what people are talking about. (this is why i probably won't make this post rebloggable--i've noticed this pattern on tumblr many times where trans men speaking about transmisogyny get lots of notes and are given a lot of grace, where trans women are silenced, attacked for not having perfect wording, and otherwise delegitimized.)

the second type is called hermeneutical injustice. it describes how marginalized people are denied the right to make sense of the experiences in their own lives. this can look like preventing people from building community, terminology, a political understanding of themselves, and the interpretive resources needed to process how you live in the world.

this is a form of injustice that I think almost all intersex people are very familiar with--we are denied community and interpretive resources to the point that we're told we don't even exist, that intersex isn't a real word, and so many more examples that leave us isolated and with very few options for understanding what we're collectively experiencing. as an intersex person i really intimately understand how frustrating, confusing, and painful it is to not have words for your experiences, your identity, your life.

so it makes me really sad and pissed off when it seems like intersex people seem to be replicating this exact same type of epistemic injustice towards transfems and specifically towards intersex transfems. pretty much every time recently i see people talking about "afab transfems" they're doing so in a way that seems to deny that trans women even have the right to make sense of their own experiences in the world. there seems to be this mindset that these political frameworks, these interpretive resources that transfems have built up are just up for grabs for anyone. and then on top of that has come with it a lot of cruel, hateful language and direct attacks towards many intersex transfems who are facing so much harassment right now.

an important value to me is this idea of reciprocity as a foundation for solidarity. to me reciprocity means that we're prioritizing the ways we care for each other, we're thinking about how we can uplift each other, and we're watching out for extractive or exploitative patterns where one group is constantly expected to be in "solidarity" with another group without getting the same respect and care back toward them. i think that there could be so many ways that intersex people of all genders could share our overlapping experiences and actually be in true, meaningful solidarity with each other, but i barely ever actually see that happen on tumblr. and that pisses me off, because i do think that there's so much we have in common that we could celebrate and support each other with. i feel so much kinship with so, so many of my trans intersex friends, and ways where i see our lives converge. but i don't think that can happen in an environment where there's no acknowledgment of the ways that our experiences will sometimes (often) differ from each other, and the ways that we have unique needs.

another frustration i've had based on this most recent couple months of transmisogynistic intersex posting on tumblr is how intersex people have been mostly ignoring intersex community resources and devaluing the existing intersex terminology that people created to try to meet our needs. so much of what i've seen people describing on tumblr seems to really line up with the term ipsogender. Ipsogender is a term coined by an intersex sociologist Cary Gabriel Costello, and is used to describe intersex people whose gender matches the gender they were medically assigned at birth, but who might not feel like cis or trans fits them, might experience dysphoria, and who might feel like they've ended up transitioning medically or socially in some ways. this is a word that exists that an intersex person put time into coining because they wanted other intersex people to feel seen, embraced, and have ways of understanding themselves and communicating to others, and that's something that's super meaningful to me! and yet, i've rarely seen anyone reference it, and also seen multiple people making fun of it in other spaces online.

there's also intergender, which is another intersex specific gender term used to describe when your gender is inseparable from your intersex traits, and that your intersex identity is intertwined with your gender identity in some way. some people just identify as intergender, others use it as an adjective and exist as an intergender man or woman. intersex terminology like this is really important to me, especially because we're so often denied the right to make sense of our own experiences.

i think ultimately what i wanted to say with this post is just that when i think about intersex community, some of the most important values of intersex community for me are solidarity, care for each other, and affirming our right to define our own existence. and i don't think that can happen in a community where people are acting in extractive ways, harassing and attacking their fellow community members, and being dismissive of the realities of other intersex people's lives.

[carlyraejepsans]

Huh, I just noticed something. The majority it seems, at least according to the characters mentioned in the notes and tags of that post, to be headcanoned to be trans (the gender they are in canon) are characters who are guys in canon being headcanoned as transmasc. And now come think of it, I dont remember the last time I saw a character that isn't a guy in canon be headcanoned as a trans guy. Meanwhile trans fem headcanons are a lot of the time appled to characters who are guys in canon (not always! Trans Noelle Holiday comes to mind), so that's a thought. Not sure what it means or if my observations are even correct, but it's something.

i think you made a good observation, it's just a matter of what angle you approach it with: characters with contested trans headcanons (male AND female) tend to be men in the source material because statistically those are the characters that get the most fandom attention

[ramlme]

Happy pride month!!! ❤️💙🖤❤️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

Spider-Man and Deadpool going from their first Pride Parade :3

Deadpool found out by a chance, that Spider-man is bi (but he doesn't know yet, that Peter also is a transman hehe) and invited him to go to a parade.

Wade was there many times, but for Peter it’s all new. He kinda didn’t have anyone before to go with. And he was too nervous and afraid of the perspective to get shutdown alone to go without anyone.

Peter still hides his identity from Wade, so they agreed to go there in the masks. Peter got a lot of compliments from Wade and even made some in return, but he’s too afraid to admits even himself, how many times he was staring at Wade that day. Too many. So cute and SO short shorts oh my g-

Wade was screaming into his pillow about a ten minutes at home. It was a wonderful day.

[doberbutts]

as a black (mixed as well) transman it's been very hard for me to find a place to be myself. my identity has never quite slotted in anywhere and it's left me very lonely a lot of the time. but your account has been solace to me. it's so comforting to see someone who shares my experiences and isnt ashamed to share them. thank you for being willing to share your story and be open about your experiences, it means a lot to me and lots of other black transmen.

✊️ Solidarity, my brother. We are stronger together. I am with you, in any way I can be.

I have often felt like I do not belong solely with one or the other, being part of both worlds while also neither. I find it often gives me a different perspective on things, which can make things lonely, while also making things a bit interesting when it comes to relating to others. But I was taught from a young age that no one is allowed to make me feel shame for being myself, and to be happy in my own self proudly and confidently regardless of what others thought of me.

And so, that's how I face the world. I am, simply, me. No one can take that from me. And no one can make me feel like I should be someone else.

[venusbutch]

Hey, if you don’t mind me asking how does it work to identify as a lesbian and a trans man? I’m not trying to shit on anybody or say your identity is invalid and I hope this doesn’t come across in a terf-y way. For example I as a lesbian worry that if I date a transman while still identifying as lesbian it would be transphobic? As if I wouldn’t be viewing him as a “real man” if that makes any sense? I’ve heard that some butches view the masculinity associated with butchness as being different from the masculinity associated with cis men. Is it like that or? Sorry for the bother if this isn’t a question you want to answer or I asked it badly. I don’t want trans men (or women) to be excluded from the lesbian community, I’m just wondering how you view your identity from your perspective. I swear on my dog I’m not asking in bad faith and I’m genuinely sorry if I have offended you.

honestlyyy I think questions like this are very case by case, every transmasc is different and has different boundaries but I can answer this question from my point of view. I wouldn’t ever say I was in a lesbian relationship with a transmasc unless that transmasc identified as a lesbian. I’m a different case because I’m a lesbian transman but I would say a majority of transmen would find that very invalidating. it would definitely be something you’d have to have a conversation with your partner about just because labels can take on different meanings to different people. for me my masculinity does feel different than a cis man, I feel like my view of masculinity is similar to a cis man but it presents itself in different ways. and I don’t think this is because of some fucked up terfy biological difference I think it’s because being trans completely changes how you view gender and sexuality, especially when it comes to “traditional” masculinity and femininity. hopefully this makes sense, again this is just my opinion and every transman you ask will have a different answer. I think the best way to make everyone feel included is to just ask people their boundaries so you don’t accidentally do anything invalidating or make them uncomfortable.

also I’m not offended by your question at all, in general I don’t mind answering questions about my gender and sexuality as long as they’re genuine and not rude

[tom-foolery-incorporated]

can you do a story abt the ej headcannons you did?? tyty<3333 male reader pls!!

I'm assuming you wanted these ones as a story? If not sorry lol

I also typically write reader inserts as AFAB since that's the perspective I'm coming from as a transman so I'm not too sure about writing someone who's AMAB. I decided to not write any specific genitalia for this.

18+ MDNI, M!Reader, Dom Jack, sub reader, anal, no genitals mentioned, heats, knotting, spanking, possessiveness, very light yandere themes, masturbation, underwear sniffing, nesting, mentions of breeding, Jack has mouth tentacles, Jack pops your back on accident

From outside the partially opened door anyone could have heard the gravelly growls and panting that moved out of Jack's mouth as he furiously rubbed his cock up and down. He sat on your side of the bed with a pair of your dirty boxers pressed against his nose taking in whatever scent of you was left on them. You had left for a week to visit some family and were set to return today. Maybe it was the excitement of seeing you again or the pent up sexual frustration from being without you for a week but Jack managed to just start his rut today.

The small rounded barbs on his cock rubbed at his palm when they should be prodding at and massaging the inside of your hole. Jack hates whenever you leave no matter for how short a period of time. You're his and no one else's so why do you need to go and see anyone else? Really, Jack thought to himself, he should keep you tied up on his bed with a vibrator stuck into your tight hole. Keep you mewling out for him and ready to take his cock whenever he sees fit. You should be here bent over while he pounds your ass into his bed for the next couple hours.

Jack licked a stripe up the crotch of your boxers hoping to taste you on the fabric but whatever flavor of you was left on them had faded to near nothingness. He growled in frustration as he practically choked his cock with his left hand. Whenever you get back he is going to make you regret ever leaving. Jack was not in the most clear headspace. His rut made it hard to think of anything other than proving himself as your mate. To provide for you, hold you, have you wrapped around his cock while he pumps load after load in you. The thought of breeding you until his cum dripped down your legs caused him to finally release onto his hand and sheets. However, the calmness of his post orgasmic bliss didn't last long. The sound of the front door to your shared cabin alerted Jack to your return and his cock found itself ready to go again.

"EJ?" you called out into the dark cabin. Jack came running out of the shadows like a predator causing your fight or flight to set in before he pounced on you. His hands slammed on the door behind you effectively caging you in against his nude body. His cock was leaking like it had never felt any form of release in its entire life and his usually cool grey skin was hot to the touch. "Jack," you gasped pressing your hands to his chest, "did you miss me that much?" Jack didn't respond and instead went strait for your neck. He rubbed his sharp teeth against your soft skin before giving you a playful nip. His lips traveled up and down your neck and across your throat trying to kiss as much of you as he could. You groaned at the blissful feeling of his lips and tongue teasing your sensitive neck. Slowly, you slid your hands down his torso before taking his sensitive cock into your grasp. One hand held a firm grip on his shaft while the other teased and rubbed at his tip. Jack bit down on your shoulder growling through your now damp shirt. You hissed at the slight pain his sharp teeth brought but continued to rub and stroke at his swollen cock.

"I missed you too," you gasped out, "fuck, you're so hot."

Suddenly your world was upside down as Jack tossed you over his shoulder. "You smell like other people," he growled while marching you over to your shared room. The blankets were gathered on your side of the bed like a nest with a couple pairs of your dirty boxers scattered here and there. One having white stains that you could only presume being Jack's own cum. "I don't want you to ever leave again," he growled tossing you into the nest, "you're mine." His claws tore right down your shirt making gasp but before you could complain his mouth was on yours. The tentacles from within his mouth moved your lips apart and squirmed into your mouth. You whined into the sloppy kiss as a mixture of yours and Jack's spit dribbled down your chin. He held your waist in a strong grip as if he thought you could run away at any second. Jack couldn't control the motion of his hips as he rubbed his cock against your clothed groin. The rough material of your jeans doing wonders to give him that much needed friction he desired. Jack pulled back still letting his tentacles squirm around your mouth some more before they finally retreated back into his own mouth. You could only pant through your swollen lips with how Jack so thoroughly used your mouth. You crossed your legs around his hips excited for what was to come next which earned you an appreciative purr from deep within Jack's chest.

"My little mate," he purred into your ear. You could feel the wetness of his precum leaking onto your stomach with every thrust of his hips against you. "My perfect fuck toy," he growled before taking either side of your jeans into his clawed hands and ripping the material as easily as he had ripped your shirt. You lifted your hips off the bed making it easier for Jack to discard the useless fabric. Jack held your ankles together pushing your legs towards you so your knees where almost to your chest. You could feel a tight stretch in your thighs and lower back as he did so but that was nothing compared to the slap he bestowed upon your ass.

"Mine!"

Jack's voice sounded more demonic than usual. The deep gravelly husk that was innate in his voice was even more prominent as his more demonic side took over. Another slap was given to your ass making you cry out. Jack shivered in delight at the sound of your wailing before giving you another smack. "More noises," he groaned, "make more of those noises." You whined holding the backs of your thighs the best you could as Jack spread your cheeks apart. He purred at seeing your puckered hole so cleaned and ready for him. "Where you expecting this?" Jack growled, "did you leave so you could get me all worked up? Come back and get used like the stupid whore you are?" While it was true that you prepped a little before catching the bus back, you had genuinely gone to visit family. In truth, you were expecting Jack to want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck his scent back into and onto you. "I'm going to keep you strapped to my cock so you never leave again," Jack growled in a low voice, "you'll finally be in your place as my personal fuck hole." You nodded eagerly at Jack's dirty talk. Anything to have him spread you apart and take you as his.

Jack only took his hands off of your body to go digging around in the drawer of his nightstand looking for your trusty lube. He didn't care what he tossed around in there nor did he pay any mind to the fact that he left the drawer open when he finally found the bottle he was looking for. You could feel the tight stretch in your lower back from holding the backs of your thighs up towards your chest for so long. Whatever discomfort you were in would soon be alleviated by Jack kneeling down and licking at your hole. His wet slimy tentacles pushed past the tight ring of muscle to open you up. With the claws on Jack's hands, he would usually make you finger yourself, use a toy, or eat you out in order to prep you. His clawed fingers dug into the flesh of your ass possessively as his tentacle tongues explored your hole in bliss. You could feel the strong muscles relaxing and opening up your hole for Jack's fat cock to intrude into.

When he decided his tongues had worked you open enough, Jack pulled his mouth away from your now slobbery hole and impatiently fumbled with the bottle of lube before squirting an obscene amount onto your hole and his cock. He pushed your legs to your chest causing your back to pop in the process. Your mouth hung open in awe at the now loose feeling in your back and you knew Jack had to have heard the impressive noise your bones made but he paid no mind. His cock rutted and rubbed against your hole occasionally the head would catch on the tight ring of muscle only to slide off and continue the onslaught of teasing.

"You look so perfect under me," Jack groaned when he finally let the head of his cock breach your ass. You winced at the tight feeling of your asshole grasping around his cock then slowly relaxed when he managed to bottom out. You could feel the inflamed knot at the base of his cock promising what was to come next. Jack mounted you, efficiently putting you into a mating press as his hips rutted in and out of you. Your brain could hardly keep up with the pace Jack had set. All you could feel was the bumps along his cock massaging your walls, all you could smell was Jack hair as he buried his face into your neck, all you could hear were his deep growls.

You heavy balls slapped against your ass with every thrust. The room was filled with the obscene wet slapping noises your bodies produced. Jack payed it no mind when he was too busy listening to you whimper and whine at the feeling of his cock so wonderfully splitting you apart. Your nails clawed deep purple marks into his back as he ruthlessly pounded into you. His knot would occasionally snag onto the rim of your hole earning a sharp hiss from you into his ear. Jack would worry bout the pain after he had knotted you and filled you with cum. He would make sure to pull out that doughnut cushion for you but right now all he wanted was to use you as his own personal fleshlight. Your hole was his to use as he pleases whenever he wants and however he wants. He owned you inside and out and Jack wanted to prove that more than ever with your strict walls clamping around him.

You were a blubbering mess beneath him only managing to drool on yourself and make noises in gibberish. You were no longer a person in this moment but rather a hole for Jack to fuck. His knot pushed and prodded at your hole with every thrust promising to breed your ass with his potent cum. You were sure if he could get you pregnant this way he would have a long time ago.

The shrill moan of his name you let out when his knot finally breached your hole made Jack's whole body shiver. He continued pistoning his hips inside of you with his knot thoroughly planted within your hole. He bit down onto your shoulder as his whole body stiffened at his release. Cum flowed freely out of his cock and threatened to spill past his knot. His gyrating hips slowed to a stop at the euphoria of his release. When Jack finally pushed himself off of your body, his cock still buried deep within you, the sight that laid before him was one he would have burned into his memory for as long as he lived.

Your skin was hot to the touch and glowing with sweat. Your mouth hung open in a pant while your eyes threatened to batter closed. Drool stained down your chin and neck while Jack's own teeth prints bruised your shoulder. "Look at you," Jack groaned grabbing your hair to make you look up at him. "You haven't even came yet and you're already all fucked-out." You whimpered at his teasing earning a sharp thrust that had you mewling out his name. "Good thing I'm not done with you yet."

[wearyeyebrow]

Candid

Another task, another spreadsheet, another picture taken without his consent - Lucifer is wound tight. As the evening drones on he can't help but glance at the clock anticipating a night alone with you, preferably spent on his knees. NSFW. Tags under the cut.

Tags: Established relationship, Sub Lucifer, Dom MC, 2nd person perspective, they/them MC, AFAB MC, Transman Lucifer, edging, multiple orgasms, tribadism, oral sex, d/s dynamics, hurt/comfort, scene negotiation, porn with plot - do let me know if I've forgotten anything significant.

-

The student council room is quiet in the late afternoon and a great place to study. You’re sprawled out on a giant oak table cursing Solomon's illegible handwriting when footsteps echo down the corridor. You recognize the crisp click of Lucifer’s stride alongside Lord Diavolo’s heavier footfall, their voices too far away to pick up. You try not to eavesdrop, really, but they stop just outside the door left ajar.

Diavolo’s voice booms. “So the deadline snuck up on me - I’ve just been so busy with staff interviews. It’s a budgeting matter and you’re good with numbers so bringing it to your attention felt like the best place to start.”

Lucifer is quiet while scanning the papers in his hand, shuffling a few back and forth. Diavolo is childlike next to him, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s doable but I’ll need to get started tonight if we’re going to get this in on time. The entire thing needs to be reworked…” he trails off and furrows his brow, holding the paper away from his face. You’re fondly reminded of how often he neglects to wear his glasses.

“Thank goodness! I knew I could leave it up to you.”

Lucifer only hums in acknowledgement, still squinting. The afternoon sun catches against the door and he’s set alight, beautifully framed in the archway. It’s easy to spare a drop of envy for one of God’s greatest creations, but his two-ton frown keeps most people at arm's length.

You blink at an unexpected flash, watching as Lucifer flinches at the sound of a shutter. He twists to glare at the guilty party.

“Lord Diavolo, I request you delete that immediately.”

“But it’s so rare I get a candid photo of you - it came out so well too, see - you look beautiful!”

Diavolo tries to hold up his phone but Lucifer looks just past it. “Delete it.”

“Come on Lucifer, it’s just one-"

“I’ll delete it for you if necessary.”

“But Lucifer-”

Suddenly, a third voice joins them. When or how Barbatos got there, you aren't sure, and you've long stopped asking.

“My Lord - pardon the intrusion, but your next meeting starts in ten minutes.”

“Is it that time already? Well, we’ll just have to table this conversation!”

“Lord Diav-”

“Thank you, Lucifer, for auditing the extracurricular budget, I appreciate your hard work! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Diavolo pockets his phone and takes off with Barbatos close behind.

Lucifer’s jaw is set in stone as he watches them go. Their animated chatter echoes down the hallway until they turn a corner and disappear. He clears his throat and turns to address the room. 

“Good afternoon.”

You snort. “You know, I bet I could  accidentally  delete Lord Diavolo’s entire photo gallery and he'd be none the wiser.”

"You needn't intervene on my behalf.”

“Of course I don't need to, but…” you sigh, “Do let me know, the offer’s always on the table.” You motion for him to sit and he does, closing the door behind him. He taps the documents in his hand on the tabletop, straightening the edges. Everything is in order until he thumbs through them again.

“What’s Diavolo put you up to this time?”

He doesn't look up. “I'm sure you heard enough to piece it together."

"Mm. When's it due?"

"Next Saturday."

"Don't you have a bunch of other shit to work on?"

Lucifer sighs. "It can't be helped. I'll manage." The setting sun catches against the metal rim of the window and he squints, massaging his temples.

Asking if he wants help is another way to say you don't think he can do it. His sin twists any offer of assistance into something to be ashamed of, and you know this. He also knows you know this.

You sigh, a little exasperated. "I realize that I'm talking to a brick wall here-”

“And yet you persist.”

“May I still come by tonight?”

“I…” he pauses, bowing his head in the fading afternoon sun, “I will hardly be at my best."

“I know.”

His eyes flicker to yours, softening at your gentle expression. He brushes his fingertips against your hand. "...I’ll be in my room by eleven."

-

Lucifer admonishes himself for almost nodding off again. So many numbers, so many Excel spreadsheets. He cracks his neck and continues typing, trying to make something of money the school doesn’t have.

His body is exhausted but his mind is wide awake, thoughts racing in the background, droning and cacophonous, itching and alive. He's moved to his bedroom for the evening and taken his work with him - his office is accessible, his bedroom is not. He’s kept his gloves on to avoid picking at his cuticles but he can’t help drumming them on the table, annoying himself with the sound.

He breathes a sigh of relief the second he hears a knock at his door and unlocks it with a wave of his hand, deactivating a few dozen curses.

You poke your head inside and see him at his desk, looking exactly as he did that afternoon.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft in the late hour, "How are you holding up?"

He manages a sardonic smile.

"Figures. Worse than you thought?"

"I’m surprised Excel isn’t a domestic export.”

“But it's supposed to be  so  much easier than doing it by hand.”

“Yes,” he drawls, “Easier. I just love redoing my work when it crashes - I love everything about it.”

You lean against the doorframe. “I dunno, you say that you love it, but your tone makes it sound like an anathema to all that is good in this world.”

His shoulders loosen a little when he laughs, lips curling into a slight smile. “How was your evening?"

"Not bad." You keep talking and wander over to his desk. "It was Satan's turn to cook dinner so the food was great, and Levi joined us too - oh! Mammon got a present from Luke in the mail."

"What was the occasion?"

"To hear Mammon tell it, he saved Luke from  great peril," you chuckle, "Of course, that’s not how Luke puts it. Mammon managed to get his hands on some Ursa Major Honey for Luke’s entry in the Devilsfood contest. Only the witches know how. Beel may have eaten most of his gift, though…"

"Mm, typical on all fronts." His tone is incredibly fond.

"We missed you at dinner."

"Since it was Satan's turn to cook, I doubt that."

You snort, "I saved you a plate. It's in the fridge when you want it… or until Beel eats it, I guess."

"Thank you." He sighs and sits back in his chair. “I... I’ve missed you. Solomon’s kept you busy and I’ve had so much to do - I hope you'll tell me if you ever feel neglected."

"Not neglected, just worried. When's the last time you slept properly, sweetheart?"

His face warms and he clears his throat. "I'd rather not worry you further."

"Humor me."

"...Five days, give or take."

"Lucifer…" You maneuver around to the front of his desk and lean on the edge. "I know you don't need as much sleep as I do, but you can still get sick, and your headaches won't get any better."

"Sometimes sleep is a necessary sacrifice."

"I'm well aware, doesn't mean I have to like it."

He only hums, distracted by your hand on his arm, straightening the creases of his shirt.

"I'll be forthright," you murmur, "I know how I’d like this night to go. You up for it?”

"...I was hoping you'd ask."

"You sure?" There's your hand again, this time in his hair, nails just grazing his scalp, sending pleasant tingles down his back. You're close enough now that he can smell the subtle scent of your shampoo, familiar and inviting. It sets him at ease.

"Please, stay."

“Then, leave your work for the evening. What do you say?”

His desk lamp casts a warm, orange glow over the bedroom, casting heavy, almost architectural shadow. Your features are augmented, posed in sharp relief against the muted colors of his bedroom. Merely a few seconds have passed since you asked him a question, but he already feels like he’s taken too long to answer.

“...I shall put my things away.”

You hum and give him a moment to straighten his desk, lingering just outside of his personal space. Even in the privacy of his bedroom Lucifer is impeccably dressed. You follow the crease of his pant leg down to his polished loafers. He makes every move with purpose and each thing has its place. It's only the slight tremble of his hands that gives away his fatigue.

You think back on that afternoon. After Diavolo had left, you’d seen Lucifer in your mind’s eye - the hard line of his clenched jaw softened into an expression of relief, into an expression you covet.

You breathe out slowly, trying to hide your anticipation, and walk across the floor to his bed. The covers are smooth and unwrinkled, perfectly pleated as he feels they should be. You grab one of his pillows and make sure he's watching when you place it at your feet.

He feels the weight of your stare but looking at everything still left to do makes his head hurt. He has so much to do tomorrow and so much he should have done yesterday.

Your voice cuts through the fog. “Lucifer - come here.”

He quickly places his pen in its holder, almost knocking over the inkwell, before crossing the room to meet you at the foot of his bed.

He kneels of his own volition. Your pleased smile makes his heart pound.

“I didn’t even have to ask.” You muse fondly

“How…” he swallows, “How would you like me?”

You brush your thumb against his cheek. His eyelids flutter shut and he turns toward your open palm. “I think… just like this. This is where I want you tonight, on your knees.” His face heats up but he manages to meet your half-lidded gaze.

“I’ve noticed, you know?” You say, studying his face, tilting his jaw in your hand, “You’ve had a lot of things forced on you lately. I’ve offered my help yet you refuse it. Why?

He tenses. “I am merely reaping the consequences of my own actions. I refuse to burden you with my responsibilities.”

Your brow furrows. “Okay but, what about those pictures? He knows they make you uncomfortable and I don’t like that he takes them anyway.” Your hand is soft against his cheek. “I won’t take action if you don’t want me to, I promise. I just want to understand, Lucifer. Saying you don’t know why is also acceptable.”

Lucifer eases into the comforting weight of his position beneath you. His posture sags, just slightly, and the sharpness of his brow softens. There's a faint tint of red to his cheeks. He tentatively leans forward, not meeting your eyes.

“I… I am not fond of them, but… they’re just pictures. I shouldn’t be so bothered. The less bothered I am, the less often my picture will be taken.”

“Why shouldn’t you be bothered?”

“It’s an innocuous thing. Something as small as getting one's picture taken isn’t worth getting upset over.”

“I disagree. You’re bothered by them, and it isn’t difficult to respect that by not taking your picture.”

“There are better things you could spend your time on.” He tries again, weakly, hoping it doesn’t stick.

“That’s up to me, isn’t it? Don’t I get to decide what to spend my time on?”

“Yes, of course.”

“If I can't stop him then I want to get rid of them for you.”

“I…” He looks down at his hands, “I will think about it.”

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow morning, then. I promise I’ll drop it after that.” He nods and sinks further, wanting nowhere else to be. "Don’t worry, I won't let anyone else see you like this.”

"Never?" He’s keen for one last bit of reassurance.

"Never."

You lean down to kiss him. It's lingering, gentle, and sweet. He follows when you pull back, so you kiss him again, greedy this time, to sait him, but it's not enough, never enough, and you tell him so between kisses.

"Please..." he breathes, when you finally part.

"Please what, darling?" A shudder runs through him.

"May I service you, may I  please  you, in a way that only I can?"

"And how do you want to do that?"

"I..." he swallows thickly, “I want to do whatever you ask of me."

Your gentle laugh cements him on his knees. "How could I ever say no to that?" The affection in your voice makes him dizzy. A hand slips down his jaw to direct his attention. "If at any point you object to what I ask, you will tell me - that's your first order of the night."

He nods in agreement. As with any magic, intention matters, and you want him on his knees willingly. The pact remains inactive; each time he follows an order is done of his own free will.

"Your second order..." you thumb his lower lip, "You look so good on your knees.. I want your mouth between my legs."

He swallows. "It would be my pleasure."

"Stoplight system like usual."

“Understood.”

You lean down to kiss him again. It’s heady and languid, desire bubbling just beneath your skin. When you pull back he is a picture of perfect obedience, kneeling with his hands in his lap.

You languidly place a leg over his shoulder and he kisses your knee, inner thigh, before grabbing the edge of your shorts. He doesn’t go any further, instead catching your eye. You hold him in anticipation, sizing him up, waiting for him to ask.

Finally he swallows. “...May I?”

You smile and lift your hips so he can slide them off, leaving you bare before him. He takes the time to fold them before leaning forward and kissing up your thighs, shifting forward so he can wrap his arms around your hips.

His eyes flicker upward when he takes a long, slow lick, savoring the way your breath hitches. He yearns for your approval.

“Mmm… that’s it,” You breathe, lost in a hazy moment of affection and power. Lucifer kneels before you because he wants to be here, because he chooses to be here.

He groans low in his throat and sinks his fingers into the meat of your hips, holding onto every little noise you make, tasting the salty, musky tang of your arousal. The scant stubble of his cheek rubs against the smooth texture of your inner thigh. He yearns for the way your whole body chases his mouth and rocks against his face, folds sticky and wet, groaning when you tug on his hair.

"You're so good with your tongue, fuck-" You can't hold his gaze, too lost in how it feels, throbbing while he leverages his entire body for your pleasure. He flicks his tongue just right, sliding it back and forth, only stopping to breathe, using his calloused fingers in the interim, tiny tight circles, watching how your head tilts back.

"Can't get enough of you Luci." your praise blooms in his chest and floods his body. He shudders, little sounds escaping his every exhale. 

You’re already close to the edge, but an image of him burns in your mind’s eye. 

“L-lucifer - stop.” His tight grasp on your hips is immediately gentle and tentative. He stills himself and settles back onto his heels, shoulders heaving, lips shiny.

“What’s wrong?” There's a plaintive edge to his voice, a delicious contrast with the mask of power he usually wears. It's difficult to ignore the ache between your legs.

You wrap a stray tendril of hair behind his ear. “Not yet… I want - I’ve been imagining this all day, you on your knees - I want to see it, wanna see you sweetheart. Touch yourself while you please me.”

He tenses. His mind starts to conjure an ineffable mess of images and sensations. He can't stand the way his muscles twist, the way his skin is mottled and stretched - a punishment of his own making. He deserved it after the fall. He should be better than this. He should have  been  better. His mind always questions what you'll think of him, what others will think of him. It's the antithesis of pride, shame on full display, yet he wants your eyes on him, he wants to believe in how you see him. He tries to rationalize. It doesn't matter, you've seen him before, you know him. Yet something in him screams and claws, wound tight, tight, tight.

His silence makes you pause, makes you wonder whether you should check on him, but then he breathes out slowly.

“Where would you like me to start?”

You consider him for a moment. “Take your vest off and unbutton your shirt. You may leave it on as long as it’s unbuttoned.”

His mouth is dry. He doesn’t make a show of removing his clothing but he does so dutifully and completely, staying on his knees at your feet. He folds his vest and sets it just out of reach, leaving his red button up hanging loosely from his shoulders. His face is flushed a delicate pink that travels all the way down to his chest.

“What-” he clears his throat, “What would you have me do next?”

“Take your trousers off. Remove your briefs too - and your socks.” His hands hover awkwardly over his waistband. His reluctance is obvious. 

You lean forward and kiss his temple before placing a gentle hand on his neck. Your voice is soft and warm in his ear. "Do you remember my first order? What’s your color?”

“...Yellow.”

"Good job. Do you want to leave them on?”

“I…" he exhales with great difficulty, shoulders tense, "I am not sure, I apologize.”

"Mm, what if you took off your briefs and then put your trousers back on?”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would I-”

“Would it make you feel better?” He doesn’t say anything and you can feel his cheek burn against your own. “Would it, Lucifer?”

He sighs, and the annoyance in his voice is tinged with something like relief. “Very well.”

You make a sound of agreement and then kiss his neck before drawing back to your full height.

“Briefs off, then. Put your trousers back on but leave your fly open and belt off.”

You give him privacy by turning around and adjusting the pillows behind you, waiting until you hear him still.

You’re met with the sight of his pink, flushed cheeks. The heavy meat of his chest is partly hidden by his open shirt. You follows the delicate trail of hair leading from his navel to the dark curls between his legs, just visible in his open trousers.

“Look at you -” you breathe, “ Fuck  - you look good.”

He’s caught between pride and shame. He’s dizzy, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he wants to tell you exactly what you’re doing to him. The throbbing between his legs is almost unbearable. He wants to beg. He wants to touch you, he wants your hands on him, but he can’t, he can’t. Everything is too tight, too tense, his mind is too  fast-

“Please - “ he whispers, before he can stop himself, “Tell me what to do. Give me an order.”

"What do you want, Lucifer? How do you want to feel good?”

"It does not matter what I want.”

Your gaze softens as you consider him, leaning down to kiss his temple. You speak low in his ear. "It always matters what you want. Answer me.” You kiss his neck and he whines a desperate little  "oh-"  shuddering as he inhales, delicate and wanting, before resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“I…” he licks his lips, “I want you to use me as you see fit.”

You kiss the shell of his ear. "You’re sweet and submissive just for me, aren’t you baby?” He nods, unable to voice it, unable to touch it, but he can acknowledge it and that’s good enough. “I want you back between my legs, but this time I want you to touch yourself while you please me. I want to hear you. What do you say?”

He whimpers. “Yes - I...” He pulls back from your shoulder and shifts down onto his knees between your open legs.

Your hand runs through a few strands of his hair. “Touch yourself for me, gently, slowly. Wanna see you feel it.”

One of his calloused hands disappears into his unbuttoned trousers. He sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s it… slow circles.” You lick your lips and savor his soft keening. “I want to take my time with you tonight.”

He’s already a little breathless.

“Mm…” You start to play with yourself, getting off to the image in front of you. Lucifer on his knees, stroking his clit at your command, a beautiful, willing submissive.

“May I…?” His eyes dart to your folds, wet and glistening, just a few inches away from his mouth.

You ignore him. “How do you feel?”

“G-good, ah - I-” he keeps his eyes on your, groaning when you part your lips. His breath is hot against your.

“What do you want, Lucifer? Be specific.”

“May I please you while I - while I touch myself?” His face burns.

“Good man… go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He breathes. You shift your hips forward to meet his tongue. He groans when they connect, dipping his tongue inside of you, breathing harshly through his nose, mouth open wide, lips wet. He’s rocking his hips into his own hand, legs spread, sinking lower.

“That feel good, baby?” You whisper.

He moans what sounds like an affirmative.

“You’re stunning…” You run a hand through his hair, “So fucking perfect-" your chest constricts at the way he looks at you, up through his lashes, completely adoring. “You make me so…  fuck  I wanna come. Make me come?”

You can barely see his irises, his perfect hair tousled and thrown to the side. He pulls away, just for a second, just long enough to whisper a desperate  please. 

“Fffuck - Luci- baby…” You fall onto your back and let the pleasure wash over you. He knows just what you like best and his little noises spur you on.

Your whispered praises and directions flood his mind. He’s dripping onto his own hand, viscous fluid staining the inside of his trousers. He revels in how you writhe above him, in the heady taste and smell of your arousal - all because of him. He throbs and he wants this, he wants to feel your release, to hear more, more. He moans when you grab his hair, needy and wanton, suddenly muffled by your cunt as you starts to fuck his face.

“Keep - right there, right there-!” He does exactly as you’ve instructed, doubling down, licking your clit just right, and finally you tense, muscles tight, before an elastic  snap  washes over you, throbbing and lingering, a wet sweltering heat. He takes his time, just how you like, gently licking as you come down.

Your chest heaves and you drop your tight grip on his hair, instead running your fingers through it. Soft praises leave your mouth, syrupy sweet, too good for him, but he relishes in it, still touching himself on his knees.

There are a few minutes of blissful calm as you catch your breath, before sitting up to place a hand on his cheek. Your hazy expression meets his own. “So good at making me come, so good on your knees - thank you.” He leans into your hand and his flushed, red lips press into your skin.

“So gorgeous,” you whisper, “Still touching yourself… You need me baby?”

He nods into your leg, now completely doubled over. He shivers at your soft hands on the back of his neck. “When was the last time you made yourself feel good?”

“Weeks at least,” he murmurs, surprising himself with how easily he answers.

“Oh sweetheart…” he throbs at the sincere affection in your voice. “I want you to take some time for yourself, for some stress relief, even when I’m not there. Especially then.”

He starts to shake, now resting his weight against your calf, head bent between your thighs.

“Lucifer… let me look at you.”

He slowly raises his head with purpose. The plaintive, needy look in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“Come here, Lucifer.” You pull him forward into a kiss, leading until you’re both standing. The blood rushes to his head and he sways a little, but you hold him steady. He shivers when you lean in close and kiss his neck, hands wandering from his shoulders back down to squeeze his ass.

“Mm… I want you on your back.” He does as he’s told, settling where you’ve arranged the pillows. You crawl over him, shadows falling across your body, stunning and ethereal above him.

You kiss his jugular and his breath hitches when you slide your tongue up his neck. He's achingly conscious of the hands on his hips and your breath in his ear.

“You need me?”

“Yes,” He whispers, arms wrapped around your back, feeling your skin flush against his.

“I love you like this. Love you all the time but…” he’s so wanting and open and  vulnerable , “I wanna find out just how wet you are, wanna make you feel incredible. You want that?” His pulse is racing.

He wraps his arms around your back, dragging his blunt nails up your spine. He breathes in deeply, nose pressed into your neck, nodding yes, yes.

You lean to the side and trail your hand down his belly, stopping at his waistband. You wait there for him.

He swallows, voice cracking. “Go ahead."

He lifts his hips and you pull his trousers down, dropping them off the side of the bed. Your hands settle on his thighs while your eyes wander.

He glistens. Sticky, viscous fluid string between his parted legs. His curls are damp and stick to his lips, clit heavy and swollen, flushed red. He’s taken by the way your breath catches, pushing him away from the edge of doubt. You did this to him. He trusted you to do this to him, to make him wet, to make him ache.

You catch his eyes as you straddle him, hovering just over his clit. He reaches for your hips.

“Above your head.” He reluctantly retracts, stretching his arms above to grasp onto the pillows. His chest arches forward, face flushed, and beads of sweat line his forehead. He’s quivering, dripping wet, but he obeys and withstands. The way you look at him makes the room fade into the background and muffles his every passing thought.

You grasp his waist and lower yourself, adjusting until you find it, until you brush his clit with your own  just right.

He gasps, eyes squeezing shut, and you groan. His clit is hard, brushing through your folds with every gentle thrust.

“Yes…” he sighs in relief, fists clenching into the fabric above him.

You've been sated by your first orgasm, able to focus on his pleasure. The pace you set is slow, feeling him slick against you. 

“I…”

“You want something, Luci?”

His chest is blotchy, mouth dry, panting. “More - I… faster, please-” You continue at a slow, steady pace.

“Missed this sight,” You whisper, lips kiss-bitten and full above him.

He aches to say every passing saccharine word, dripping with pride at how you make him feel, how you look, who you are. He feels a cool hand on his cheek. “I think I’ll let you simmer. How long can you hold off for me, I wonder?”

“As - as long as you desire,” he breathes.

“Then tell me when you’re close.” You speed up, just enough to make his head tilt back into the cushions. His biceps flex as he fights to stay still, to stay exactly as he’s been instructed.

You lean forward and starts fucking him faster, panting and reveling in the way he starts to writhe.

“I’m… ah - I’m getting close-” You hum in acknowledgement and keep going until you hear a familiar rise in the deep pitch of his voice, and feel the way his body tenses.

“There- I-!” You still.

“No-! No, fuck,  please- ”

“Not yet baby, not yet,” you pant in his ear, “Hold it back…” and smile at his trembling effort. “Focus on how it feels to be denied what you need so badly.”

You pull back and he groans at the translucent, sticky fluid that stretches between you. You sit on his thighs.

“Look at you… so needy and wet - you want my fingers, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes please-” his chest heaves as he starts to forget himself.

It's after the third edge that he really starts to beg. He is held in place by your gentle fingers, letting him whine, watching him finally let go. It’s not enough, not enough and then too much, until it only takes a few small circles to get him close, until he's whispering  please, please, please  under his breath, as you bring him to the edge and back again.

His perfectly pleated sheets are a mess and his legs are spread wide before you. He can’t think and it’s utter bliss. Your soft fingers tease him, pushing the hood of his clit up and over the head, back down again, and again, watching him twitch. He's torn between keeping his eyes shut and looking directly at the erotic sight of your hand jerking him off.

“That feel good? Answer me, Luci.”

“So - so fucking good, so - keep-!” You smile, savoring him like this. “I’m - I’m close, oh there - please there-” he begs, gasping, whining, but you pull back just when you feel him start to tense, leaving him just on the edge without anything to push him over.

“No, no, no I was - I was there, please keep going,  please-!”  He pitifully tries to hump your hand, wanting anything, any more friction, he was so close, so agonizingly close.

You drag your finger just over the tip of his clit and he sobs.

“What do you want, darling?”

“I want - I want to come, I need - please make me come, please,  please-”  His eyes are misty, his cheeks are red, and hair is a tousled mess. He can only feel and want and beg, overwhelmed by the feeling of your fingers still stroking his clit, but it's not enough, not enough. He wrenches his head to the side and covers his eyes with his forearm.

“That’s it Luci, let go - tell me..." He shivers and jolts at your fingers on his abdomen, tracing up his belly. “You need it, baby?”

“Yes,” he whimpers, “Yes, please, I need - I need it.”

You shift down his body, nails soothing over the tops of his thighs. Just as he removes his forearm you finally lick his clit. He gasps, before whining, high pitched and utterly debauched. He covers his mouth, embarrassment flooding his cheeks, but you rub your thumbs into his thighs.

“Wanna hear more of that,” you whisper, “Wanna make you come, since you asked so nicely, since you’re doing so well for me.”

He tilts his head back when you start licking his oversensitive clit. His thighs tremble.

Finally, finally you wrap your lips around him and suck. His clit is heavy and thick in your mouth, full and swollen.

“Yeesss, yes, yes…”

He sobs your name, feeling himself clench,  “- shit-!”  You suck hard and it takes all your strength to hold his hips against the bed. He thrashes, white knuckling the sheets. “Oh fuck - yes I’m - there, there, please -  please -!”

You keep going, just as promised, sucking and licking, exactly how he needs, for just as long as he needs. His voice gets higher and higher, breathy, tensing, toes cracking until all is still and he freezes, forehead touching the pillows behind him, neck delicately exposed, and he lets go.

“ Yesss  … ohhhh fffuck,  fuck yes , yes-!” He sobs with deep seated relief, euphoria flushing his body.

You want him to linger in it, to feel tension dissipate as the embers die down and warm his body. He gasps, writhing as his entire body jerks with intermittent aftershocks. You hold him there for as long as you can, sweet caresses of his clit, doing your best not to overstimulate him, to let him down gently.

As his body starts to relax you kiss his inner thighs and nuzzle into his skin, tracing your nails over his legs. His breathing slows as exhaustion matures into a hazy comforting wading pool, until the world spins in slow motion and he's finally still. You slowly slide up his body, taking him in. His half-lidded eyes follow you, face slack, lips curled into a barely there smile, genuine and gentle. The hand on his cheek is met warmly.

“Good job love,” you whisper, “So good for me. You okay?”

He licks his lips and leans up with just enough energy to meet you. You guide him back down and kiss him like he deserves, whispering little affirmations between them. It’s like he’s floating in a space of unreality and he lets himself linger, for just a bit, enjoying the way he can quietly give and receive a softness he’d forgotten he was capable of.

You gently run your hands over his skin and he does the same, tilting when you kiss his neck, sighing when you kiss just under his ear. You lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, until one of you starts to recognize the sound of a clock ticking. You nuzzle against his sweaty skin.

“Wanna get cleaned up? I don’t feel like a shower tonight but I’ll take one if you want.”

“Washcloth is fine,” he murmurs.

“Okay.” You kiss his temple and then reluctantly slide off the bed and head for the bathroom. You pee and clean yourself up a little bit before returning to him with a washcloth in hand.

He’s slowly unfolding another comforter, back in his discarded trousers and unbuttoned shirt.

You come up behind him and kiss his shoulder. “M’sorry, I forgot to put a towel down.” He shrugs, still a little out of it, eyes glazed over.

You let him finish before having him sit in front of you, gently wiping his face clean as he leans into your hand.

“I’ll get changed,” he murmurs, faded and wobbly. You give him his privacy in the bathroom and change into a pair of pajamas left in his room for nights like these. He returns wearing his own and immediately sinks into bed. You roll onto your back, beckoning him, and he settles into your side.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Lucifer speaks. His voice is muffled against your skin.

“If you do decide to delete those pictures you’ll have to do it twice - once in his phone and once in his backup.”

“Mm. Why don’t I pick Leviathan’s brain - I want it to be permanent.”

“Might as well be if you’re going through the trouble.”

“It isn’t trouble.”

The tension in his body slowly dissipates, yielding the enormity of his weight.

“Then… I’ll let you take care of it."

[albywritesfiction]

Will MC's gender play a role in Ædan leaving them for Helene? Like the kingdom preferring Helene if MC is a man? Obviously, not so much since they were engaged before, but will Helene's ability to "naturally" continue the royal bloodline* affect on why they all seem very happy Ædan left MC for Helene?

* assuming MC is also not a transman who wants to give birth in this scenario, which isn't something the public would be privy to, naturally

Or is it just a matter of "MC isn't politically and socislly powerful but Helene is so that's why she is the superior option for marriage"?

Also I am so taking the BFF route— I have no intentions of getting involved in any more court shenanigans!! Or at least, not as much as I would on the Brother's route. Plus not interested in being accused to get my claws in the other brother since I "missed" the big fish!! I wish your royal uglinesses much happiness or whatever. May you implode.

So excited for the story!! 🥰

Hello Anon!

I had actually gone through similar questions about MC’s gender in my head prior to sticking with the decision to have them be selectable which resulted in a lot of people asking if I was okay whenever they caught me staring at nothing 😅

The answer is no, MC’s gender was not a factor as to why the people love Helene and seem to prefer her over MC. 

(Lengthy explanation below the cut)

With regards to being “naturally” able to continue the royal bloodline, the citizens of their kingdom don’t take as much issue with it in MC’s generation since the people of their world have already developed a process similar to in vitro fertilization with significant advancements in the field (thanks to the existence of magic) to have DNA from both parents in a same-sex couple be present in the child; thus, the child would have three biological parents. This has been a widely accepted form of assisted reproductive technology throughout the continent that the kingdom is located in since the current king’s youth, though it was made legal in Aurelia only only recently because the previous king did not support it (and the old old man was a tyrant). Of course, there are still some people who possess a similar mindset to the previous king and oppose those who go against tradition, but thankfully, those people are few and far in between.

With regards to political standing, MC is the much better candidate as they are the only child of a duke. But MC’s father is not just any duke; the ducal House Argentius has long been the Sword and Shield of Aurelia. Note that their allegiance lies with the kingdom and not its rulers; the marriage between MC and Ædan would have been symbolic of the trust that House Argentius had placed in Ædan as the future king to lead the kingdom with his people as his utmost priority. 

With regards to social power, however, Helene has rapidly outshined MC due to her image as the Saintess, the living symbol of the gods’ love for the people. She has been healing people with a demure smile and incredible divine power before she was even ten years old; it’s why many believe that she was a blessing sent by the gods to take care of their beloved people, and what better position could she be in to do that than as a queen? Helene also grew up in an abbey on the outskirts of the capital among other ordinary folk, so majority of the people see themselves in her through their shared background and end up rooting for her as she rises from an orphan to a princess. Helene is the people’s Cinderella who they live vicariously through.

With all that said, the people’s perspective wasn’t really a deciding factor in the dissolution of the engagement between Ædan and MC (which Ædan did all by himself by suddenly announcing it out of nowhere). In fact, Ædan’s reasoning was extremely, infuriatingly simple: he loved Helene, not MC.

So. Yeah. 

Definitely recommend Cyfrin’s route if you don’t want to deal with more of Ædan’s bullshit.

(“I wish your royal uglinesses much happiness or whatever. May you implode,” makes me laugh every time I read it thank you for that 😂)

[monsters-villains-and-bastards]

(I am once again thinking about fallen hero (i never stopped))

Ya know, I feel like one of the reasons that fallen hero resonates so hard, at least for me, is how queer it is. Obviously, you can play as a cishet sidestep, but when you do play a queer sidestep? It *feels* queer.

Its rare that I come across a story that feels unapologetically queer. To me, there's a big difference between a story that features gay characters, a story that "is gay," and a Queer story. And even further, a story that is unapologetically queer.

With Fallen Hero, there's so many moments that are queer in a way I just, don't see often.

(I currently only have 1 sidestep who is a queer transman, so im comin at this from this perspective, but if anyone has played it other ways and would like to add, I would love to hear about your experiences with it)

When I play it, like I said, I currently have 1 sidestep who is a queer transman. So far, I've played it where he romances Ricardo, Wei, and Daniel (plus Ricardo and Wei, and Richard and Daniel). Each of them add something different to the story when they are romancing a transman that I can't help but adore.

The scene with Ricardo in his apartment, and sidestep is about to have the conversation about being trans, sidestep can panic because they don't know what exactly to say, how to do it, and what Ricardo's reaction is going to be. And you know what, yeah, that can be a very scary moment for someone who's trans. How do you tell someone you're trans when you don't know exactly what to say and how they'll react to it? And then, if Sidestep does tell him, Ricardo *cries.* He was so worried about Sidestep, and didn't know if he done something wrong, and he cries. There's also a point where he tries to make a joke or comment to lighten the mood and says something about being more familiar with those parts. And ya know what, ngl, that was a bit in poor taste but really funny. But I'm happy that it was included! Because sometimes people say things trying to lighten the mood and ya know what, sometimes it's a little bit like "why would you say it like that" and sometimes it's also funny. He's not perfect, he doesn't understand everything, but he's *trying.*

Either before or after that ( I can't quite remember, but ik it's within the same set of scenes), Sidestep can talk to him about being bisexual. Depending on the choice you pick, Ricardo can talk about growing up in Texas and that being gay or bisexual wasn't really okay. When he talks about his and Sidestep's past, there's a point where it's like, yeah, he would've been torn to shreds by the media if he was openly bisexual. And yeah, it isn't easy for everyone to come to terms with their sexuality, and it's easier to ignore it that try to deal with it, especially if you're going to experience public backlash on top of being raised in an area that was Not okay with queerness. It's scary!

One of the aspects I specifically love about Ricardo's romance, is that it's messy. You're playing a character that he knew in the past, thought was dead, and comes back into his life after so much has changed. Two people who have been broken down over the years of trauma they had to experience. There's so many ways you can play it that its hard to talk about all the ways in which the variations add their own mess to the situation too. So yeah, the romance can be so queer and so messy at the same time.

With Steel, if you're playing a trans sidestep, he already knows they're trans because of the pictures he got, but it doesn't change anything for him. He's a gay man who tells sidestep that who he sees is a man. It's that simple. He even tells sidestep that he was attracted to Sentinel, who was also trans.

With his romance, there is an age gap, but he didn't have attraction towards sidestep until after they came back, and they tried to become friends with each other. There's also some messiness with his romance if Ortega is a man because he had/has feelings for him.

With Herald, he's open about his attraction, isn't afraid to be who he is, and while at his apartment, he seems a bit nervous, he's also happy. When sidestep talks about being trans, there is a moment where he admits that he isn't sure what to say because he's gotten in trouble for it in the past, but he doesn't care, he happy either way.

For every romance in Fallen Hero, there's something messy about it. Every character has their own past with some kind of shadow looming over it. Everyone makes mistakes, eveyone has something that gives them sharp edges. None of them are perfect people. All of them are struggling with something.

Sidestep is also just an absolute dumpster fire of a person pretty much however you decide to play them. Sidestep, kinda sucks! Even if they're pretty good, by god, do they make dumb decisions!

And I do think its so important to note how much of a mess sidestep is, along with whoever they are with, if they are either a) with someone romantically, b) with someone sexually, or c) not with someone at all, because, imo, it differentiates itself from a story that has gay characters, a "gay" story, and a queer story.

When I think of a queer story, I think of the messy parts. The aspects that aren't "love at first sight" or two people who got it all figured out or "unproblematic" (sidenote: i do think we should remove the term problematic from people for a while), or two conventionally beautiful and young characters falling in love and having the most like. Heterosexual relationship you can have with 2 gay people.

Fallen hero doesn't really have conventional relationships. Even when discussing friendships, it's not conventional.

The story is Queer because of the unapologetically messy characters that exist within its setting. No one is perfect. No one has it all figured out. Sometimes a character doesn't know what to say or they stumble a little during those hard conversations about sexuality and gender. They're allowed to cry, or be confused, or understand. Not to mention that sidestep's morality can fluctuate between a good person who doesn't know what to do, to someone so unapologetically evil and proud. Allowing a character to be queer and their morals to be anywhere on that morality spectrum allows it to be a more queer story imo.

There's so much more that can be said, and could 100% be said by someone who's better at writing down those thoughts. But god, fallen hero is such a beautiful story. The conversations that can be had about it's themes of sexuality, gender, trauma, morality, neurodivergency, among other things is amazing. OUGHA, love this story.

[booksandpaperss]

time for the gender version of this poll 🤌🏻

feel free to share your experiences in the tags if u would like! i enjoy reading abt different queer perspectives 🫶

also I’m fully aware that not everyone fits into any of these and as much as I would love to include as many experiences as possible 1). gender is very complex 2). This is a tumblr poll limited to 10 options. Tried my best to make the options inclusive but if they don’t fit you don’t stress about it, just share in the tags if you would like or simply continue scrolling instead of getting personally offended please and thank you 🙏

alsox2 keep in mind that non binary is an umbrella term for any sort of genderqueerness so whatever non binary means to you is applicable in this case <3

[silver-heller]

No More Jokes

Hi hi! Welcome to my self shipping blog! My name is Nightmares, or Silver, either or! I am a 22 year old, asexual transman (he/him), plural self shipper. I am okay with sharing (except for alters). I am a lover of villains, and enjoy anime, animation, and comics. My favorite genres include historical things with good characters, horror, mysteries, and romance. My main F/O is M/ordecai H/eller from L/ackadaisy, but I am okay with sharing him!

Please read the DNI before following me! Liking the post reassures me you have.

Ao3 / F/Os / Lacka FOs / NSFW / Lacka College AU / Silver Bible / Hazbin Self Ship Blog

User box template can be found here.

You will be fed to the pigs if you (DNI if)...

Note: I will probably only follow you back if you show a genuine interest in my stuff and I like your stuff in turn (aka we could have a conversation together). I am a bit picky about moots, but you are always welcome to follow of course.

If I block you, I block you. I try to be vague when it comes to vents and vent about the behavior, not the person, but ultimately it is your responsibility if you see crap you shouldn't when you're blocked.

You don't like villain F/Os or have an issue with villain F/Os being made soft. I won't argue with your preferences, but painting it as "bad writing" or "not canon" due to a difference perspective is just crap.

You are a minor. Sorry, I'm just not comfy with minors following or interacting with me.

You are a bigot (homophobic, transphobic, sexist, racist, antisemitic, etc.) or you romanticize characters being bigots. You will be blocked on sight. Exclusionists will also be blocked.

You are a map, proshipper, or ship adults with minors. I am also not comfortable with shipping with animal characters that are just animals with no humanoid features (ex: shipping romantically with a character like P/ikachu is gross, anthros like M/ordecai are fine though), incest ships, people who ship with real people, and so on. I am not comfortable with characters that have canonically assaulted someone, are predators, or child abusers.

You unnecessarily dictate how others write characters, especially asexual ones (pointing out the use of bad stereotypes is not this and completely understandable).

You are not plural safe. (BTW I use the term plural, please use this term, not D.I.D). I have a zero tolerance policy for not only people that are negative about/to plurality and systems, but also people that misuse plural experiences for their own entertainment. Some examples would include:

Featuring characters doing things very similar to "switches" because you find it funny/to show they're "mentally unstable".

Have your character talk to "people inside their head" to paint them as crazy.

Treat an evil alter ego or persona as another personality.

Painting alters or alter equivalent characters as evil.

That shit isn't for your singlet characters and it definitely isn't for your "crazed" or "violent" characters, and alters deserve to be treated kindly.

There is some media I am uncomfortable with and I will block you if your F/Os are from these sources: SAO (sword-art-online), R/ayman, J/ekyll and H/yde, and H/arry P/otter. (These medias make me uncomfortable for one reason or another it's not always for moral reasons, please respect that even if you don't understand).

Other wise we should get along just fine!

[tboyboner]

✰ Welcome ✰

About Me ⬎

Call me Star boy (or Master/Sir in sexual situations)

I am 18 and this is an 18+ blog so no minors

I’m a transman with an awesome dick and generally queer

I’m a dom/top with some of my major kinks being nudity, voyeurism, submissive good boys, being worshipped, and embarrassment/humiliation

Currently single and down to make horny friends so feel free to message/send photos

This is mostly gonna be reblogs but enjoy

Note: I am a dom/top so anything I reblog assume its from the dom’s perspective

[merildae]

hello!! it's been a min 💜 first of all, congrats on a new exhibit!! second, what's the theme of your show?

💜💜💜

its a two person show at 13FOREST on portraits of self and other regarding trans identity specifically. i do self portraits about my journey as a transman and portraits of those who who have supported me. my fellow artist, Kathryn does portraits of her trans daughter, amongst others and of herself . so portraits about trans identify from from the perspective of a trans person and from the mother of a trans woman.

im sure the wonderful team at 13forest will say that all much more elloquently haha

[hersweetrevenge]

corey cunningham headcanons [volume two 🌈]

i want to say that i am totally normal about this man, but who would i be kidding at this point? today i bring you even more thoughts about my favourite babygirl. based partly on these two lists, here and here. more hcs can be found over in volume one, which is equally as nonsensical.

topics include: his name and how he feels about it, his gender identity and sexuality.

WARNING for mentions of child abuse, passing mentions of homophobia and transphobia. no direct mentions of smut but implications of sexual relationships are there.

[images via @/slashericons and @/shitedits]

his name, how it got picked and his thoughts

corey wallace cunningham. joan picked corey's first name from a book of baby names. no real reason other than she liked it. she'd suggested a few other to wally that he had turned down, but he doesn't have a problem with 'corey' so that's what they go with. his middle name is after his dad, and it was joan's way of trying to sweeten wally up to having a baby at all (isn't he happy he's going to have a son to carry on the family name?).

his full name was decided before he was born. joan and wally were pretty sure they were having a boy (as sure as they could have been in the mid-late 90s, when ultrasound quality wasn't as good as it is today), so they had a name ready. they did have a girl's name picked as well, just in case.

corey likes his first name well enough, there's nothing wrong with it. joan pronounces it with a pretty strong accent, which rubbed off a little on corey himself and he's never been able to shake it. he prefers the way he's heard other people say it.

he's never had a nickname. 'corey' is kind of short already. sometimes his friends say core, which he's fine with but he's not particularly attached to that. joan (perhaps surprisingly) was never big into pet names, she'll call him 'baby' or 'honey' sometimes, or 'buster' if she's scolding him (that's novel canon, don't shoot the messenger, folks).

in the run up to joan and ronald getting married, corey did wonder if they'd change their name to prevo, but it never actually gets mentioned. joan doesn't even change her surname, let alone corey's (can't have ronald thinking he's any more involved than necessary).

if corey ever got married, i think he'd be more open to changing he surname to his partners. he wants to disconnect from joan as much as possible. and even if his name is technically his dad's, he has his middle name to still keep that torch burning, so he'll happily become mr. corey [insert name here].

gender identity

corey is a man. he could never be anything else, just look at him. he has a pretty unstable sense of self though, and idolises classic american masculinity. he's vintage masc, like if james dean was built like a collegiate wrestler. he's someone who revels in gender affirming presentation and behaviour, while he's constantly emasculated at home. it's part of why he becomes so obsessed with michael - who is the pinnacle of his masculine idealisations; power, strength, control, even violence.

@slutforstabbings made this excellent post about corey's relationship to gender and his own sense of masculinity and how michael plays into that. "is it a sex thing, or a gender thing?"

i won't go too much into this next point because it just isn't within my experience or frame of reference, but i love reading about people's interpretations of corey as a transman or in some way transmasculine. in-universe, i'm not sure what the ramifications would be for that being his identity, i'm not sure if joan would be supportive or if corey would even have the means to transition in the way he wants to. but, from a literary perspective, i can absolutely see joan being pleased to have a son rather than a daughter. "difficult daughters of difficult mothers" are often portrayed as two (indignantly) similar people who resent each other, whereas "passive sons of overbearing mothers" is in a whole other ballpark; joan would be delighted to have a son she can manipulate and emasculate into being a good momma's boy.

sexuality and labels

corey is bisexual, but to be honest he doesn't really label himself at all. the need to think of a label has never really come up so he never bothered with one, he just deals (or doesn't deal) with his attraction as and when it happens.

he knows the "main", broad labels people use, it just somehow bypasses him that one might apply to him, even when he reaches the point where he fully acknowledges that he's attracted to a lot of different people, for a lot of different reasons.

he experiences attraction to different genders very differently. because he hasn't put a name to what he feels yet (or ever), a lot of his early crushes (or squishes) never really registered to him. he's had crushes on men and women since he was a teenager, but it's not until he actually gets a chance to act on any of those feelings that it even occurs to him that he swings both ways.

he's a daddy issues cliché, but he does have a thing for older men. seeking all the validation and approval and attention that he never got while growing up. he feels like there's something safe about older men, even if that security is misplaced. but fear not !! he's a mommy issues cliché too !! the only way he's ever learned to love someone is obsessively. he has a tendency to put a lot of his emotional needs onto his s/o. he won't mean to, and he certainly doesn't want his girlfriend to be his mom, but joan would frequently cross emotional boundaries so he's not totally clear on which lines are for which relations.

(if roger and theresa asked him to, he'd absolutely be their third, no questions asked)

is he open about his orientation?

not really, but it's not strictly speaking a "secret" either. he hasn't told anyone, but it's also just never come up before. i don't know if he'd ever feel the need to come out.

haddonfield itself is not exactly a liberal metropolis, but it's also not a right-wing nightmare town either; most LGBT+ residents just go about their lives without much trouble, but the chances of someone on the street being homophobic/transphobic are never zero.

he does have a bit of a crisis about it at around his junior year, which is the first time he realises what he feels for his physics teacher might not be just wholesome, academic admiration. but it also makes something click in his brain and he's pretty quick to come to terms with it. also, he realises he won't actually have to deal with any of the possible implications of what he thinks is going on for one reason and one reason alone: joan.

joan pitches a fit at even the smallest inkling of a crush, even just with girls, so it's safe to say his feelings for boys is something he'll likely never bring up to her (unless the day comes where he can be out of that house and living his own life). although he knows ronald's a good guy, he'd never think to come out to him, they just aren't close enough.

corey actually never admits to any crushes, regardless of gender, not even to his friends. he's a bit "girl crazy", always has a crush but never acts on it, and you'd seriously have to waterboard that info out of him. he also falls victim to crushing on one of the only out guys in school, imagining what would happen if he ever got the guts to speak to him at one of the parties he sneaks out to. but that crush passes quickly when corey's attention drifts to a girl in his homeroom, and then to the football team's quarterback, and then to his lab partner. he has a bit more of a chance at community college, and he don't think he'd deny it, but he's so hesitant to embark on any sort of relationship that he's honestly just taking what he can get anyway.

[wolf-tail]

been writing from a transman's perspective lately and I ended up dreaming I was one

[plasmamembranes]

Does anyone else frequently have dreams in which they are someone else? Like you're witnessing a whole movie like set of events unfolding from the perspective of someone else, it's all happening to someone else. Last night I dreamed from the perspective of a little boy and the night before I was a transman (but not myself if I was trans, just a random ftm) but my gf says that literally never happens to her and she also has never heard of it happening to anyone she knows. I would say in anywhere from a third to a half of all my dreams I am someone who isn't myself