#pregnancy tw

[porcelain-dolls-wreched-hearts]

This has been in my mind for sometime now. If someone can like make it into something, please do.

What if, Secretary!reader of TF 141, who is thick, like a mommy but her personality is the shy kind. She has such round tits and a nice big ass, belly rolls when she sits that suggests she is healthy and eats well, a little shy. Over all the the kind a woman any man would like to make a wife out of her.

The TF members hadn't meet her yet but when they do, everyone's jaw drops. So polite, so beautiful, so thick. It's like everyone just wanted to bend her over and-

But then there's Simon, he takes one look at her and his mind goes like- 'Mama. Gotta make her a mama. My baby mama.'

So now, everyday, Simon sees her, he greets her with a, "hey mama, working' hard I see."

Or when they are in the mess hall and she's eating and he goes, "like the food mama?"

Or when he spots her carrying a load of files and he comes to help her and says, "too heavy for you, mama. Let me help."

Or at the bar after a successful op, while someone tries to flirt with her and she's uncomfortable. So, he comes over to her to help her and says, "is he bothering you, mama?" The other person leaves thinking Simon is her boyfriend or something.

All this time he calls her 'mama' she gets even more shy and blushes red like a tomato. She can't even utter a proper 'thank you' without stuttering like a fool. She can't even hold eye contact with him 'cause she knows how flustered she'll get.

So, when he mumbles in her ear in that deep husky voice, "Wanna go to my place, mama? Let me worship this body of yours, hm?" She can't utter a word, just nods.

He eats her out while muttering, "you taste sooo gooood, mama," and "this pussy's for me, yeah, mama?" And "i gonna fuck you so good, mama."

Maybe he will actually make her a mama or maybe she'll have a the most pleasant night and wake up to a proposal from him.

Part-2 Part-3

A/n: what do you think guys? Is it something?

[miraculouslumination]

I think what gets me about "Society wants trans women dead, and trans men to detransition" is that there's this...potential implication that is very infantilizing to trans men and our struggles.

Many people have pointed out how this idea poses being detransitioned back into being a cis woman as a privilege, or a less cruel fate.

But here's what I think those who believe detrans is better than death are missing, and also what they are implying.

They are missing/ignoring the countless trans men who would fight tooth and nail to remain as trans men. The ones who would refuse to go down without a fight. Who would rather be killed than made into someone's pregnant and barefoot trophy wife. And subsequently the consequences of doing that.

And then the implication is that detransitioning, for trans men, is either "not that bad" or...trans men would just comply. We would be told "You aren't a man, you're a woman, now lay down and get pregnant" and just...accept that? That we are somehow so malleable, so placid, that if enough people told us to stop being men, we just...would?

Like this is just some big game of pretend we're playing, rather than some major part of our identities?

Y'all know what I mean? "Society JUST wants trans men to detransition" as though us trans guys would just huff and sigh begrudgingly as we are institutionalized, forcefully wedded, and so on? That it's some mild inconvenience to be removed of our autonomy, and forced into something we aren't?

That we would just go along with it, while our trans sisters are murdered in the streets??

Like, are you fucking serious?

Again, anyone else getting this vibe from these people who really downplay this shit? "JUST detransition" like "JUST put on your dress so we can go to Church already!!" as though we're a bunch of fussy children who are throwing tantrums over silly things? It's so fucking gross, and while I would hope that's not what these people mean, I think many of us have also seen how eager these people are to infantilize trans men and transmascs.

[shamelessramblings]

lieutenant!simon can’t stop thinking about his child growing inside sergeant!reader PT. 1 HERE

Simon doesn’t mean to start keeping tabs on you. It just… happens.

He finds himself clocking roll call faster than usual, eyes scanning instinctively for your name, your shape, the way you carry yourself. He's relieved when he sees your still squared steady shoulders. Good. Still standing. Still here.

He tells himself that’s enough. It isn’t.

By the third day, he knows your schedule better than his own. Knows when you disappear between drills. Notices when you’re slower leaving briefings. Wonders, absently and obsessively, if you’ve been to the medbay yet. If you’ve told anyone. If you’re sick. If you’re scared.

If you’re alright.

He asks around carefully. Too carefully. “How’s the Sergeant doing?” he says once, like it’s a throwaway, like he hasn’t rehearsed the question in his head.

“She’s fine,” comes the answer. “Same as always.”

Same as always. Right. Price clocks him immediately.

“You’ve spoken to her lately?” Price asks later, casual but watching.

Simon shrugs, too stiff. “No.” Price’s eyebrow lifts the smallest fraction.

“She mention anything?” Simon adds, then curses himself internally.

“About you?” Price asks.

Simon doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to. Price just hums quietly and changes the subject, which somehow makes it worse.

At night, Simon lies awake staring at the ceiling, mind replaying the same impossible image on a loop. You in the doorway. The test on his desk. The door slamming. And then, unbidden, something else.

Small. Fragile. Real. His. Yours.

He wonders if you’ve felt it yet - not movement, of course - just the weight of knowing something’s there. Wonders if you look in the mirror differently. If your hand ever drifts to your stomach when no one’s watching.

Christ.

He wants to check on you properly. Wants to ask questions he has no right to ask. Wants to make sure you’re safe, that you're being careful.

Instead, he watches. He waits.

He loses his fucking mind quietly, professionally, from a distance: counting footsteps, memorizing patterns, carrying the constant, unbearable thought of a small life growing somewhere just beyond his reach.

[filthyfuckingcainestan]

pregomni

[eiiegeia]

I love love love your art and the way you draw Flambert! Chad looks so done with Robert and the baby yet in the end they’re his ultimate weakness 💕💕

They are. (Long post ahead! More under the cut. Read tags before opening.) edit: this is a prequel to this and this

Issa was born at thirty-six weeks, at only five pounds and two ounces, on what should've been Robert and Flambae's last day at work before parental leave.

He spent his first week in a NICU incubator, and Robert spent that first week recovering in the ICU from the emergent C-section and blood loss. Later, they'd tell him that he'd suffered a placental abruption.

Flambae could only watch and wait in the wings for those first few days.

[princington]

[past]

i hold my breath

[transmascd]

Nothing is more discouraging than watching a video and hearing the people in it mention making a mlm ship sapphic/t4t and praising that (which is fine) and then in the SAME BREATH immediately make fun of men getting pregnant and treating it like a punishment. A real, serious issue trans and intersex men deal with in losing their reproductive rights and are routinely threatened with forced pregnancy to “correct” their trans identity.

[mintmatcha]

Can you imagine the knight getting you pregnant and you both dont even know and he has to go away on like a 3 month campaign and the next time he sees you you've got a visible bump 😩

god ive been thinking about this all daayyy

I can imagine you getting him right at the door and he, worn and frayed, goes in for a kiss without a word, hand sliding on your waist.

and he pauses.

"Is...?" "Is this a new gown?"

He doesn't care about your gowns --you frequently sew new ones-- but this one is different somehow. looser, flowing.

"It is." The grin you try to bite back escapes. "My others have become-"

You take his hand and guide it to the curve of your stomach. You doubt he can feel the flutters of movement. "-too tight."