#i know most fics have them know he's trans | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 4 months

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The Hobie fandom has a lot of smut, and with a character so accepting on so many fronts, it means so much to me to see trans!readers being taken into consideration.

As a trans guy myself, I love seeking out ftm!smut. But often times, I often can't read them. Many times I'm left feeling unseen, reduced, or even feminized.

And I wanna talk about that a bit, if it's okay.

My take and feelings on FTM!smut - As a Trans Guy

Ngl as a trans guy myself I do feel a bit alienated by a lot of FTM!reader.

I'm gonna be honest - I feel like most ftm smut is written exactly as it would be a cis woman, just with the pronouns changed. Which is understandable, but not really how it works.

Cis women and trans men don't have sex the exact same, just because they're AFAB.

And I feel most smut writers haven't gone out of their way to research the sexual experiences of trans men and how we navigate the world.

Hobie smut is pretty vulgar, and I won't complaining! As a character, he has a high volume of smut, and probably the most diverse range, with Black!reader, ftm!readers, and male!readers being more common than most fandoms.

Black!Reader focuses on the unique experience of black people when in a relationship together. This unique experience is at the basis of black!reader.

But when we approach Ftm!reader - very often, our unique experience isn't reflected.

It's just assumed that because we are AFAB - there's no need to look deeper at the closer unique sexual experience trans men have - or to read up about it.

Most ftm!reader fic does not attempt to use affirming sexual language for trans men at all.

T-dicks - ie, natural clitoris enlargement you get after taking T - is a thing a lot of transitioning Trans men have.

But they're never called T-dicks in fanfiction. Only clits. It's very rare that a ftm!reader is described as having a dick - because so often the only dicks cis people recognize are natal dicks, and surgery-constructed ones.

Many cis writers may never even considered referring to a trans man's clitoris as a dick - pre or post T. They may see it as confusing to the reader, when it's not.

T-Dicks are dicks. Bottom growth didn't give you a full 3-4 inches, but you absolutely have growth and there are trans men that can penetrate with T-dicks - without surgery - if with the right partner.

The words pussy and cunt are used liberally in nearly all ftm!smut, and while many trans men are okay with these terms, I think a lot of cis writers ignore or do not know that often, terms like those can cause heavy dysphoria in a lot of ftm readers.

I don't think cis writers ever question if they might be making readers dysphoric - or showing them in a non-affirming way.

I feel like some writers believe that changing pronouns and calling the reader 'handsome' is really all it takes. Just write usual fem smut, change the pronouns - and done!

In reality, a large part of the ftm community feels uncomfortable with the word 'pussy' - and would much rather stuff like 'front hole'.

A poll on 'What do you call your downstairs?'

And I'm not saying that you can't call a trans man's genitals a pussy. And I'm not saying that a trans man calling his genitals a pussy is wrong.

I just feel like cis writers do not consider the dysphoria of their trans readers, when writing trans smut.

I feel like most cis writers don't actually seek out accounts of trans men and their sexuality.

I don't think they ever consider that these terms, talking about wetness and penetration (which many men on T can have problems with because of vaginal atrophy and dryness), breast, clits, cunts, pussy -

I don't think cis writers ever question 'Is this accessible for ftm readers that might have dysphoria? How can I make this accessible or easier for trans men who have bottom dysphoria?'

'How can I make this more affirming of them as men?'

It's the assumption that, because we're all AFAB, because we have vaginas like cis women - then naturally we must all fuck the same regardless of gender, the only thing changing being the pronouns.

That's not true.

And also - Trans Men are never really written like gay men.

Trans men having sex with men is gay sex.

And even though most writers write trans men with male OCs - they hardly ever write their sex as if they are gay men.

99.9% of the time, it isn't written that way. Its always written as if it's 'straight sex'.

The experience of how gay men have sex is never really taken account into these fics, which makes me feel like a lot of writers don't see it as gay sex at all.

At most, the ftm reader may be described as a bottom - but never as an otter or twink or bear or cub or leather or anything.

They see it as AFAB sex.

Cause If I'm getting strictly candid - I feel like if a writer wrote mtf!smut and kept focusing on the girls 'hard throbbing cock and balls' - we'd all be like 'oh wow that's very intense centering on genitals that may alienate some trans women-'

But in ftm!smut focusing on 'wet tight juicy pussy and thriving clit' is standard. It's never really questioned.

And this is not to say 'oh trans women have it better they get better smut-' No. They really don't. I'm just bringing this up to highlight the fact that we should be making sure that trans!smut is accessible and affirming to the trans people they're about.

Seeing a fic in which a gay trans man prefers to use his asshole, like most gay men fuck, is VERY VERY rare.

I feel like most cis writers never consider the fact that gay trans men may want to perform sex in an affirming, clearly coded, masculine gay way.

It's always assumed we use our front hole, are okay with it being called a pussy, have no problems getting wet, or that we don't have dicks (T-dick is a dick).

And because of that - the lack of affirming language and the lack of affirming transmasc experiences makes it very hard for me as a FTM person to read smut about ftm!readers.

I feel like most of them don't actually take our comfort - or our experiences in mind.

I feel like most don't attempt to actually read accounts of trans guys having gay sex, and what that's often like.

If you're a writer who feels guilty of any of this - you're not a bad person or a bad writer. And I genuinely thank you for including us in your work - from the bottom of my heart.

But I want to highlight this -

Trans men having sex is not a 1:1 of cis women having sex. The same way trans women having sex is not a 1:1 of cis men having sex.

Or experiences are unique - and our dysphoria does affect our sex lives, and how we navigate them.

Please, do not let this put you off writing trans men. But please keep in mind that our experience is unique.

So often I read ftm!reader and feel reduced down to my pussy. Without breasts in the equation, so much ftm!smut focuses solely on the pussy.

If you write ftm!reader please please do not let this put you off, but here's some tips I can give as a trans guy

Please do slight research of ftm anatomy, read an article about gay trans men, or go on r/ftm (subreddit) and read some posts about trans men, read some nsfw posts where trans men tell hookup tales.

Advocate has an great article called '16 things I learned from having sex with Trans Men' - which details and dispels 16 myths about trans men in bed. It's written from the POV of gay men who have been with trans men in affirming ways.

This post is in no way meant to be an attack or subliminal at any one writer. If it was one writer, I wouldn't care.

But this is something I've experienced and seen across fandoms and across writers in this fandom too. I feel the urge to write this because searching for affirming ftm!fics - I often come away feeling even more dysphoric.

Not because of the word pussy or cunt or anything -

But because of the erasure of my experience, the idea that my gender doesn't influence my experience of sex - only my AFAB genitals do.

If you write ftm!smut, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly.

But I feel like I had to say this.

If you read this far, thank you! This is one of my more personal venting posts but I'm also trying to raise a point and start a discussion. And you reading through this and giving me your time and understanding is already helpful enough, so thanks!

Here's Hobie.

Bye.

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fr3akingtf0utrn · 10 months

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Trans Spidey reader where the reader is really into Miguel’s fangs and talons and everyone at HQ knows but Miguel (basically just sexual tension between oblivious people)

Miguel O’Hara x FTM!! Reader

Warnings: slight nsfw, def some hard tension, swearing, we stan cat claw Miguel. And remember I am German.. so poorly translated Spanish

I didn’t put a lot of detail in that reader is trans, but I feel that it’s still reassuring to know this fic has a trans reader :)) knowing that it’s about him but sorry!!

———————————————————————

“Yo, where’s your head at, mate?” Hobie hits your shoulder getting your attention. You blink from zoning out and uncross your arms.

“Uh just zoning my bad,” you say while boosting yourself back on your hands on the ledge, shoulders near your ears.

It was around lunch time at the HQ and you and Hobie were sitting on one of the ledges in the main lobby where you walk in. It was actually pretty quite since everyone is in the cafeteria, only some passing by.

“Are ye still thinking bout him, bro?” Hobie scoffs but chuckles at the same time. You roll your eyes, “kinda but it’s something else about him..” you ponder off.

Hobie rolls his eyes, “what? how he got like monster like features?” You go quiet and your eyes go wide.

“NAH MATE-!” He pushes you and fake gags. You cover your face and stand yourself up and start walking.

“Dude, I knew you liked em’ but not like that!” Hobie follows you as you guys hop down to the bridge, but you stop and he trips over you.

“wait,” you slowly turn around to him, “is it that obvious?” You frown up at him, waiting for his response.

“Yes! Bruv, you stare at him 24/7! And when you do it’s like your eyes turn to heart eyes.” He says and you groan throwing your head back while covering your face once again out of embarrassment.

“What about him interest you??” Hobie asks and you groan once again. “It’s too embarrassing,” you words slur from your hands.

He places his hand on your shoulder while walking around you. “I promise you it can’t be that bad,” hobie says and you move your hands giving him a look.

He raises his eyebrows, you look down. “His fangs and claws..” you mumble. “Huh,” hobie’s eyebrows furrow.

“His fangs and claws! Have you seen them! God I can’t there just so, ugh,” you throw your arms up.

Hobie stares wide eyed and mouth open, “lord, are you sure that’s the only thing?”

“We’ll obviously not, he’s so sweet when we’re alone. And he helps me a lot with certain things,” you say and comb your hair with your fingers.

“what kind of certain things??” Hobie smirks.

You side eye him, “your impossible to talk to.”

“If you think about it, it’s like monster fucking,” hobie says nonchalantly. You eyes went wide and jaw dropped. “You’re fucking disgusting,” you push and kick at Hobie and he stumbles.

You turn around and walk away. “Where are you going, dude?!” Hobie calls out to you. “To blow off steam!” You yell back and swing away.

“I would go find Miguel for that then, mate!” He laughs and sees you fumble a bit while swinging.

——

Your eyes barely left Miguel’s body the entire time. The thing was, you were barley listening to Miguel ramble.

He usually tended to do that when you guys were alone.

No matter what he does, he was just perfect. The way his hips swayed without realizing, giving sassy looks at others, which you found funny and cute. God, you wondered if he really did even know you liked him, you were obvious.

You were leaned against his desk, arms crossed and zoned out.

I wonder what triggers them..

how does he control them too?

most of all, I wonder how they feel…

Miguel turned towards you, “you get what I mean?” He suddenly asked.

You jumped, “uhm yeah sure.” Your head was still crowed.

He raised his eyebrow at you, “ why are you always out of it, cariño? You’ve been like this a couple days,” he asked you as he walked over to where you were.

You cleared your throat and boosted yourself up on the desk, “yeah, I’ve just been thinking..about- things?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Miguel’s eyes were on you, watching your body tense from his stare.

Miguel was utterly oblivious as well when it came to liking someone. Never noticed until someone points it out or if he gets jealous.

And, you had no idea he was literally obsessed with you. Jess had to smack the fuck out him to get his shit together and ask you out.

You let out a nervous chuckle and adjusted the neck of your suit. Miguel huffs and walks over to you. Your head was looking down at the ground, not noticing how the distance started closing until you saw big hands go on either side of your hips.

Miguel bad you trapped between his arms, his hips between your legs.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “huh,” you barely had words, ‘does this man not know notice what he’s doing?’

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can make you focus or feel better,” Miguel repeated. You bite the inside of your cheek, “okay..” you move yourself so you can reach for Miguel’s hand.

Miguel furrows his eyebrows, but continues watching, not wanting to stop you.

You grab it, admiring the pretty veins before pressing down in the middle of his palm, causing the talons to shoot out. You gasp and grin slightly.

Miguel raises his eyebrows, since he just takes his claw out on command, he didn’t know that was a way they could also show.

Your fingers graze his talons, loving the sharp edges. Miguel stares, eyes lidded looking at your mesmerized face. Suddenly, you gently drop his hand and reach up for Miguel’s face.

His eyes widen and he’s pushed up against you, your hands on his jaw.

“sorry, can I please just..?” you ask gently and Miguel nods like his hypnotized by you.

Your thumb traces his cheekbone while the other grazes his lips. Miguel’s body felt like it was on fire, being pushed up against you while your hands on him.

If you weren’t so oblivious and mesmerized by him right now, you would of felt the bulge creeping up against you, including the heat between your legs.

You lift Miguel’s upper lip, “can you show me them..please,” you ask noticing his fangs aren’t showing.

Miguel once again nods and opens his mouth, a soft sharp sound was heard and they appeared.

Your eyes shined with amazement and a slight grin. Your thumb stayed in his upper lip to get better angles of them.

Without noticing, you leaned closer and your thighs squeezed against Miguel’s hips. Miguel’s breath hitched when he felt you. His eyes swirled with red lust watching over you.

He felt special that you were so entranced by him, all your attention on him in this moment.

“..so sharp, Miguel,” you said under your breath and he felt his eyes go lidded as your other hand went to hold his hip to pull him even closer if that was possible.

You moaned as your thumb got a slight cut from his fangs, blood immediately oozing out. Miguel’s eyes widening, “..can I?” He asked.

You nodded and placed your hand that was on his face, onto his hips now. Miguel looked into your eyes as he stuck the tip of his tongue out and kitten licked the blood.

He leaned forward and placed one of his hands on your thigh, squeezing slightly with his claws.

Miguel wrapped his perfect lips around your thumb and sucked slightly, you feeling him suck the blood out. You watched with your mouth slightly open, and shifted your hips in the counter, accident brushing against him.

He grunted and released your thumb with a pop, his tongue still sticking out his mouth as he let you go.

Miguel’s claws dug into your thigh and slightly ran your hands up his body, loving how your hands fit on his snap waist.

Your hands made it to his biceps and then to his shoulders.

Miguel seemed breathless as your hands traced him, him staring into your own lidded eyes.

Your eyes flickered down to his plump brown lips, seeing the blood that dried slightly on them. You licked your own and you both leaned in slowly,

As soon as you felt his breath on you, a loud accent was heard.

“OI MIGUEL!! Can I steal Y/n?? I need him for something- oh..” Hobie stopped immediately in his tracks when he tilted his head up and saw you two connected by the hips.

Both of your heads snapped to him, staring wide eyed.

Hobie quickly turned around on his boot, he shoved his hands in his pockets, “I’ll just tell him later if guess! SORRY MATES!” Hobie yelled.

As soon as hobie was at the door he yelled, “make sure to use those fangs in bed on him, Miguel!”

“GET OUT,”

The sight was something, but that something was something that Hobie wish he didn’t see.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x male reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man #miguel o'hara x you #trans reader #Miguel O’hara x ftm reader

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memory-and-sky · 5 months

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hobie x male reader """""""""dating"""""""" hcs?

okay this is something i can work on and get done relatively quickly. THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON! to everyone who’s sent in asks for fics, they are being worked on, i swear🙏 hope you like this though!

word count: i dunno, it’s a good chunk of headcanons

containing: explicit mention of homophobia, brief description of injury via fighting, small small small sexual reference, hobie brown x m!reader, could be cis or trans but i wrote this with cis males in mind

the rest of the headcanons are under the cut!

“dating” headcanons

hobie brown x male!reader

since Hobie lives in the 70s in Britain, gay rights weren’t really…. y’know, the best.

for your safety and his, the most he’d do in public is holding your hand. and even that was a big sign of rebellion. holding hands with a person of the same sex? how scandalous!

anyway, while holding your hand, he’d love to put both your hands in his pocket, especially if you run cold (like me :P).

he’d totally be the type to rub his thumb slowly on your palm, too.

Hobie knows a lot of people, especially in the queer and punk scenes. he gets invited to a lot of house parties, and feels safer to put your relationship on display more then, but he’s definitely not over the top with it.

a simple arm over the shoulder, around your waist, or a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, though he doesn’t need PDA to show your relationship off.

“Have ya seen this new patch on the ol’ battle jacket? Or this pin? Yeah, my lovely boyfriend made ‘em fo’ me. Gorgeous, innit?” [speaking to a random friend]

“Have ya had the pleasure of meetin’ my boyfriend yet?”

“I thought you said you hated labels…?”

“Mmh, (y/n)’s influential like tha’. Clearly ya haven’t met ‘em.” He’d say, undoubtedly with a smirk plastered on his face.

i really don’t think Hobie would get particularly jealous over you.

of course he loves you with all his little gay heart, but he doesn’t feel insecure or get upset at you or anything if you talk (or flirt) with another guy (as long as you communicate). if anyone is flirting with you and you seem really disinterested, he’ll totally intervene.

maybe hold you in a way that makes it clear you’re together, or explicitly tell the dude that you’re not interested.

but he doesn’t like treating you like an object he ‘owns’ at all, it’s why he’s pretty hesitant to slap the ‘boyfriend’ label down on your relationship right away.

and the 70s were a sexual revolution! revolting against gender norms and relationship norms, stuff like that.

if anybody ever dared ask you two ‘so who’s the man and the woman in the relationship?’ or ‘who’s the top and who’s the bottom?’ Hobie would be dreadfully disgusted and educate them immediately.

speaking of sexual revolution and whatnot, Hobie would be down for polyamory if you were.

you two have a very good line of communication, and if you wanted to open your relationship and communicated that to him, he’d be fine with it.

you’re so great, he gets how other guys might fall in love with you, too.

Hobie would give the best gifts, try and change my mind. whether it’s for your anniversary, birthday, or just a random gift, they’re always handmade.

maybe he’ll make you a piece of clothing like a shirt, hand-pick a bouquet for you, or even customizing/fixing one of your old clothing pieces with a bit of added Hobie flair.

Even small things, like a charm, pin, or patch have so much love put into them because he loves you!

touching on my first point again, homophobia was very present outside of the queer/punk scene, even in some aspects of the punk community he didn’t feel welcome at all.

usually, he’d tell people where to shove their opinion, but sometimes he’d feel completely unsafe to be himself around anyone.

yeah, he’s spider-man, but he’s also a very young adult. he could fight people, and he definitely used to, but he hated coming home to you being worried sick about all the horrible bruises, cuts, and scrapes on him.

back to the lighthearted stuff, he’s definitely the type of guy to cook for you.

doesn’t matter what meal it is, he’s gonna make it for you if he has the chance to. and he actually makes good food, despite living in Britain his whole life.

if you’ve got issues with trying new foods, his place will always be stocked full with your safe foods no matter what.

you’ll eat together, and he’ll gaze dreamily at you, wondering how he ever got so lucky to land such a stellar guy like you.

this man loves coming home after a long day, popping in a VCR for a movie of some sort (TV could be in your bedroom or living room, doesn’t matter), and just cuddling with you.

he doesn’t mind being either the big spoon or little spoon, but tends to like being big spoon cause he likes holding you close to him so much.

he’s very scrawny, but doesn’t mean he won’t love you all the same, and hold you tight.

one more thing, Hobie loves you above all else. he’ll protect you and fight for you anytime you need. when it comes to his partners, he does not play around!!

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chaifootsteps · 5 months

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Hey I saw someone on Twitter saying you’re transphobic because it said in your Twitter bio “IDW Arcee is still a guy” even though the character is canonically trans. What’s your take on that? I’m not attacking you or anything I just genuinely want to know the context of all that.

Oh boy. Strap yourselves in kids; time for Chai's villain origin story.

So basically, IDW Arcee made his debut under the pen of Simon Furman, the dude who created Arcee in the first place. Simon Furman has a small massive chip on his shoulder over the notion of girl robots, but we're going to be talking in mostly Watsonian terms for now. IDW Arcee as he comes on the scene in Spotlight Arcee is the victim of a nonconsensual forced sex reassignment, we see right off the bat that this destroyed his life.

He's wracked with trauma and dysphoria over this, on a do-or-die quest to take out the mad scientist who did it (he succeeds and tortures said scientist for seven years straight), and is implied to suffer chronic pain.

This got a lot of criticism, but Simon Furman insisted it wasn't meant to be transphobic, just the opposite. When someone pointed out that this was a story about how traumatic it was to be assigned a gender you didn't feel was the one you should have, Furman agreed with this take.

Eventually Furman was shooed out and John Barber was brought in as writer, and nobody seemed to know how to deal with Arcee's backstory. So they just kind of...didn't. They wrote around it for eight whole years, never really acknowledging it, but frequently alluding to how traumatized he was from it. The only person to ever roll up their sleeves and tackle it head on was Mairghread Scott, the only person IMO to ever do justice to IDW Arcee.

By the way, this panel made me weep. This issue also includes a fleeting, but notable moment where someone refers to Arcee with they/them pronouns, and at the time, I was extremely excited for this.

Shortly after this however, the comic came to an end and John Barber decided -- in the very last issue -- to bring in an expert. And by this, I mean he found some trans lady on Twitter and let her write Arcee. The last issue has Arcee concluding that the whole sex change was consensual and the violent murder spree was the result of, I quote, "bad meds."

Yeah, basically Arcee killed all those people because the Spiro was a little off.

I got into a lot of internet fights with people over this back in the day, criticizing it for being worse than what we started with, but also frequently pointing out that it wasn't Twitter lady's fault, as she wasn't the editor-in-chief at IDW and that there's a very good reason professional writers aren't supposed to do this sort of thing. In return, I got accused of hating trans women and still get some real ugly things in the inbox about it to this day. It was the first taste, bitter as wormwood, of what I as a trans man could expect from my own community.

Regardless of all that, Arcee is probably the most important fictional character to ever enter my life. He helped me realize I was trans, got me through some dark days, got me through heartbreak and top surgery. He saved my life a few times, and every so often he continues to. I owe so much to him.

If writing a very gentle fix-it fic where Arcee has a long talk with Anode (one of the trans lesbian bots from the vastly superior sister series James Roberts wrote) makes me a transphobe in these peoples' eyes, so be it. I don't care what they think. They never reached out to baby trans Chai and held his hand and kept him breathing.

Arcee did.

#Anonymous #Arcee #Transformers #IDW Arcee #transandrophobia #actual blog post

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soleminisanction · 26 days

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I got a bee in my bonnet and spent last night crunching these numbers to confirm a long-held suspicion of mine, and now I'm going to do something with them even if it's only interesting to me. So.

I went through and tallied up all of the fics AO3 currently (as of 3/27/24) has under the tags "Trans Tim Drake," "Nonbinary Tim Drake," "Genderfluid Tim Drake" and "Genderqueer Tim Drake," since I figured that cast a wide enough net without committing myself to reading every fic vaguely tagged Trans Character to figure out which character they were talking about.

I then did the same for Dick, Jason, Damian and Bruce and, after comparing those numbers against each other and against the total number of fics each character has under their general tag, followed up with Duke, Babs, Cass, Steph and Kate, and then Kon, Cassie, and Bart for good measure.

The results confirm the suspicions I was going into check and are really interesting, to me at least:

Despite having far fewer stories overall than Jason, Bruce or Dick, Tim has by far the most stories tagging him under the trans umbrella (653 out of 58,395) and is the only member of the Bats for whom at least one full percent of his stories fall under that category (1.12% to be exact.) He actually has more total trans stories than Jason and Damian combined (308 out of 71,120 and 255 out of 42,607, equaling 0.43% and 0.59%, respectively) and outstretches the 2nd place ranker, Dick, by over a hundred (who clocks in at 438 out of 79,057 -- 0.55%). Bruce amusingly has by far the most stories overall (90,305) but the fewest trans stories (185) for the lowest percentage among the boys (0.2%).

The only one who comes anywhere close to matching Tim percentage-wise is Bart, who has far fewer stories to his name but a ratio of 62 out of 5,717 for 1.08%. I was thinking maybe Young Justice might have a higher percentage than the Bats due to their strong queer fandom but that only really proved true for Bart, with both Cassie and Kon coming in at only 0.2% and 0.28% trans umbrella percentage respectively (actual count 6 out of 2,874 and 39 out of 13,746).

Cassie's numbers correspond with the fact that women just, do not get a lot of these stories, at all, even compared to the general lack of attention they're paid by fanfiction spheres in general. Steph and Kate both clocked in at falling 0.17% under the trans umbrella (29 out of 16,638 for Steph, 5 out of 2,897 for Kate); Cass got 0.13% (21 out of 15,769) and Babs only 0.07%, the lowest percentage out of anyone I calculated for (11 out of 15,785). Duke's showing was a respectable 0.55% (34 out of 6,166) which puts him about even with the rest of the boys.

All of which I just went through to confirm a gut instinct I've had for a while: even in light of the noticeable trend in fandom towards increased visibility for trans and other queer-gendered people over the last decade and a half or so, it's a notable Thing for the DC comics fandom to explore with Tim Drake in specific.

And that doesn't even take into account things like the over 200 "Tim Drake is Catlad | Stray" fics, which almost always have some element of queered gender or at least femme'd sexuality to them, far outstripping any of the other Robin boys' spins in that AU (those counts stand at, respectively: Damian - 11, Dick - 33, Jason - 79, Tim - 242). Or the 11 fics logged under the "Tim Drake is Batgirl" tag, a category that doesn't even exist for any of the other male Robins.

(What makes that last one extra hilarious to me that most people don't know one canonical version of Tim has been a member of the Batgirls.) Part of me wants to use that parenthetic detail as a segway to ramble about the various canon snippets I think probably contributed to this, from Tim being presented as "the pretty one" who most often gets the "looks like his mother" comments to the fact that he is the only male Robin who's ever cross-dressed for an undercover mission and even though it only happened once the Internet will never forget Caroline Hill.

But this post is long enough as it is and I don't really have a point beyond I think this is interesting and cool so I'm going to leave off here for now and put my numbers under a cut so people have the raw data to look at if they'd like to.

TL;DR - Based on the numbers, the internet believes Tim Drake is more likely to be trans than any other member of the Bat-family or Young Justice, and I think that has interesting implications about his character and fandom. It's neat.

Data Taken: 3/27/24

Tim Drake: 58,395 Trans Tim Drake: 513 Nonbinary Tim Drake: 46 Genderfluid Tim Drake: 89 Genderqueer Tim Drake: 5

Dick Grayson: 79,057 Trans Dick Grayson: 399 Nonbinary Dick Grayson: 15 Genderfluid Dick Grayson: 23 Genderqueer Dick Grayson: 1

Jason Todd: 71,120 Trans Jason Todd: 286 Nonbinary Jason Todd: 17 Genderqueer/Genderfluid Jason Todd: 5 (4 have both tags and are the only ones tagged Genderqueer Jason Todd)

Damian Wayne: 42,607 Trans Damian Wayne: 215 Nonbinary Damian Wayne: 37 Genderfluid Damian Wayne: 3 Genderqueer Damian Wayne: 0

Bruce Wayne: 90,305 Trans Bruce Wayne: 180 Nonbinary Bruce Wayne: 5 (2 also tagged Trans Bruce Wayne) Genderfluid Bruce Wayne: 1 Genderqueer Bruce Wayne: 1

Total Trans Umbrella Tim Drake: 653 Total Trans Umbrella Dick Grayson: 438 Total Trans Umbrella Jason Todd: 308 (313 if you count the GQ tag separately) Total Trans Umbrella Damian Wayne: 255 Total Trans Umbrella Bruce Wayne: 185 (187)

Percentage Trans Umbrella Tim Drake: 1.12% (1.11825) Percentage Trans Umbrella Dick Grayson: 0.55% (0.55403) Percentage Trans Umbrella Jason Todd: 0.43% (0.43307 or 0.44010) Percentage Trans Umbrella Damian Wayne: 0.59% (0.59849) Percentage Trans Umbrella Bruce Wayne: 0.2% (0.20466)

----

Duke Thomas: 6,166 Trans Duke Thomas: 20 Nonbinary Duke Thomas: 14 Genderfluid Duke Thomas: 0 Genderqueer Duke Thomas: 0

Barbara Gordon: 15,785 Trans Barbara Gordon: 11 Nonbinary Barbara Gordon: 0 Genderfluid Barbara Gordon: 0 Genderqueer Barbara Gordon: 0

Cassandra Cain: 15,769 Trans Cassandra Cain: 15 Nonbinary Cassandra Cain: 6 Genderfluid Cassandra Cain: 0 Genderqueer Cassandra Cain: 0

Stephanie Brown: 16,638 Trans Stephanie Brown: 27 Nonbinary Stephanie Brown: 2 Genderfluid Stephanie Brown: 0 Genderqueer Stephanie Brown: 0

Kate Kane (DCU): 2,897 Trans Kate Kane: 4 Nonbinary Kate Kane: 0 Genderfluid Kate Kane: 1 Genderqueer Kate Kane: 0

Total Trans Umbrella Duke Thomas: 34 Total Trans Umbrella Barbara Gordon: 11 Total Trans Umbrella Cassandra Cain: 21 Total Trans Umbrella Stephanie Brown: 29 Total Trans Umbrella Kate Kane: 5

Percentage Trans Umbrella Duke Thomas: 0.55% (0.55141) Percentage Trans Umbrella Barbara Gordon: 0.07% (0.06968) Percentage Trans Umbrella Cassandra Cain: 0.13% (0.13317) Percentage Trans Umbrella Stephanie Brown: 0.17% (0.17429) Percentage Trans Umbrella Kate Kane: 0.17% (0.17259)

----

Bart Allen: 5,717 Trans Bart Allen: 40 Nonbinary Bart Allen: 20 Genderfluid Bart Allen: 1 Genderqueer Bart Allen: 1

Cassie Sandsmark: 2,874 Trans Cassie Sandsmark: 4 Nonbinary Cassie Sandsmark: 2 Genderfluid Cassie Sandsmark: 0 Genderqueer Cassie Sandsmark: 0

Total Trans Umbrella Kon-El: 39 Total Trans Umbrella Bart Allen: 62 Total Trans Umbrella Cassie Sandsmark: 6

Percentage Trans Umbrella Kon-El: 0.28% (0.28371) Percentage Trans Umbrella Bart Allen: 1.08% (1.08448) Percentage Trans Umbrella Cassie Sandsmark: 0.2% (0.20876)

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crushofdoves · 11 months

Note

speaking of devouring fics where sirius' gender has been trans-ed, do you have any recs?? i know some people don't like to recommend fics so feel free to ignore if that's your vibe!

yes, i do have recs for this! here are a few off the top of my head, in no particular order:

honey sweet by @vajazzly

explicit - ft. city boy sirus who is down bad for the beekeeper with horrible fashion sense (but he’s good with this hands)

gathering home by @quietlemonhush

explicit - sirius raising regulus & harry after literally burning down his family home, remus is reg’s teacher. heavy themes but overall very funny & sweet & tender.

suffer for the people - orphan account

remus is regulus’s camp counselor, has lil bit of a meltdown and asks for his brother who comes to visit to calm him down. feelings occur. sooo cute & comforting, very fluffy.

our destiny in the stars - orphan account

explicit - remus is insecure about his (plus size, disabled) body and decides to try online dating where matches can’t see what the other person looks like. he meets sirius (trans, a teacher) and they uh - hit it off. this fic makes me smile so damn big. it’s just - it’s a classic, i’ve read it a million times.

whatever words i say - orphan account

sirius can’t stop acting out and it’s stressing out the rest of his band, so lily hires remus to keep an eye on him. obviously, they fall in love. a sweet lil band au.

a fool and his money - orphan account

explicit - chronically ill remus is roommates with regulus, meets his rich older brother and agrees to an arrangement: pretend to date sirius, show up with him to events - in exchange for money. y’all can guess where this is going and it’s so good. love a good sugar daddy/fake dating fic.

abyss by @titstraction

explicit - highschool au, remus & sirius are both on the track team and can’t seem to the same page. this fic is - so good. it’s very much a comfort read for me, but there are some heavy themes and transphobic jokes. this fic will hurt your feelings but it will also make you giggle and kick your feet and scream into your pillow.

have time to grow by queer_and_trashy

explicit - queer professor & amateur poet remus meets trans professional poet sirius - they try to get their shit together. hot & sweet and just, deeply deeply gay.

the entire rock n’ pole verse by @jennandblitz and fivepips

explicit - ace rock climber remus meets genderfluid dancer (mainly pole) sirius. this ‘verse is huge, there’s literally millions of words of it and y’all - i’ve read all of it. incredible ace representation, and overall just very sweet and sappy. mild angst, but everyone is in love & has a happy ending so don’t worry!

living like we’re renegades - orphan account

explicit - cheerleader sirius + journalist remus = everything i’ve ever wanted. i loooove this sirius so much they’re so gender.

the prettiest star ‘verse by raging_queer

tattoo artist sirius meets single dad remus - actually, sirius meets his child, teddy. sweet bonding with teddy looking up to Elder Queer sirius. very fluffy and comforting.

staying strangers by 3amandcounting

the texting fic, my fave of all-time. genderfluid sirius & demisexual remus. if there is one fic out there that will just make you want to open a window and yell about it to the other townsfolk - it’s this one. idek how to explain it, it’s just - it’s perfect.

also most of my fic features trans sirius, my masterlist is pinned!

disclaimer: this list is non-exhaustive, i know i’ve forgotten some, and i will be updating this tomorrow when i’m not half-asleep. and y’all, please reply with your fave trans sirius fics bc i want to read them all!!

#gonna reblog this tomorrow and add all my fave trans remus fics too!#@mutuals if i forgot ur fic i’m so sorry i’m on my phone and don’t have my full bookmark list i LOVE u #please add ur own recs!#trans sirius black #fic recs #wolfstar #ALSO i’m sure some of these authors do have tumblrs i just don’t know their urls or whatever so lemme know if i need to update my tags

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rodolfoparras · 1 year

Text

Smoke Sprite

Pairing: Captain Price x Trans Male Reader

WC: ca 7k

Synopsis: Price teaches you how to smoke cigars among other things

Content warning: 18+, • MINORS DNI • dry humping • boot worship • boot grinding • verbal degradation • praise • alluded exhibitionism • Sub! Reader • Dom!Price • reference to afab anatomy (sparsely!) • power dynamics • age gap (no specific age stated but in my head it’s like 10 years between them) • no after care

Stand alone/ part of a series:

A/N: The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

First time writing smut too bc at some point we ought to dive into this. Am I right or am I right? Also idk how to do accents, as a non native speaker I have a whole vocab that consist of American and British words and at some point something may sound whack but just rewrite it in your head and enjoy the fic hehe

Also don’t be fooled, you will actually learn about cigars here I did a deep dive for this

Few things were hard to come by when enlisted in the army. One of them being a good night's sleep. It was something you as well as many other soldiers battled with. You’d found that the best way to cope with it was to stay up til your mind was as exhausted as your body and one of the ways you’d make the time pass was by smoking.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the window sill of the little kitchen provided on base, half way through your third cigarette, wishing your mind would let your body go to bed.

It wasn’t always bad being unable to sleep. Hours you spent awake (albeit against your will) were also sometimes hours you’d felt the most at peace.

Tonight felt like one of those nights and the peace washed over you in waves, so much so you finally felt like you were ready to head to bed.

Just as you’re about to follow through with that thought, a sudden noise at the door catches your attention.

You turn so quickly you almost drop the cigarette you’re smoking, ash falling over you with the motion.

It’s too dark to see the intruder’s face but you’re still able to see how he freezes in place and quickly raises his hand in defense.

“Relax sergeant” the tension leaves your body when you hear the intruder speak. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was after all one that was on your mind when you couldn’t sleep. “Didn't mean to scare you, was just gonna get something to drink” His voice sounds husky, he’d probably just woken up from his sleep.

You nod your head, as you go to sit down again, taking another drag of your cigarette as you observe the surprise guest.

His steps are sluggish, head almost dropping as he makes his way over to the fridge and you wonder to yourself if you should turn on some light so he doesn’t trip.

“Don’t know how you can smoke that shit” Price says, somehow managing to express his disdain through his sleep like daze.

You snort at his words before taking another drag of your cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke only to watch it disappear again.

“Look who’s talking” you say referring to the cigar that always seemed glued to his hand.

He opens the fridge, seemingly searching for his drink before he takes out a bottle of water. Soon after he makes his way over to the kitchen counter, across from where you’re sitting. The light from outside shines down on him and you can finally see him properly as he leans on the counter and takes a sip of his drink.

He’s dressed in some gray sweatpants and a matching tank top to go with it. It wasn’t an unusual sight per say. Many times he'd complain about running hot easily so he always dresses lightly when he sleeps. However that didn’t mean that you were unaffected by it.

“Seriously they taste like shit and smell bad too”he says before downing the rest of the water.

“I don’t smoke for the taste” you say as your eyes wander from his clothes up to his neck, taking notice of the dog tags on him and the way they’re glistening with the light shining down on them. Your gaze wanders further up, over to where his Adam's Apple lays and how it bobs every time he takes a sip of his drink, until your gaze finally lands on his face. His eyes are half lidded, lips parted and puffy and a flush coats his cheek. It’s clear that he’d just roll out of bed especially with how mussed his hair is. Despite that he looks good, really good actually.

“You should since these will take you out anyway” he says, bottle now discarded on the counter and hands tucked into his pockets.

“Teach me how to smoke cigars then” You say tossing your cigarette out the window before turning in your seat to face him properly.

Price raised an eyebrow at that.

“What? You can’t sleep, I can’t sleep, might as well do something useful here. Teach me how to smoke cigars”

The older man scratches at his beard in thought before seemingly making a decision. With a grunt he signs for you to move over and you do as he says. He sits down next to you, one foot propped on the window sill and the other hanging to the side of it.

Price digs his hand into his left pocket, pulls out a wooden box of something, pops it open before sliding it over to you.

“Take whichever you want, it doesn't matter. You’ll be prepping it anyway”

“Prepping?” You look at him like he’s grown three heads. It's a cigar after all, what is there to prep anyway?

He nudges his head, signaling for you to take one. When you do so, he takes one himself before he closes the box and pockets it again.

“It’s not like a cigarette. You don’t just shove it into your mouth and smoke it. All good things come with preparation and in moderation.”

“Are we still talking about cigars here “ you grin widely as you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively.

Price grunts at your words but doesn’t do much more as he goes into teacher mode.“First thing first, you want to know what you’re working with. That can break or make the experience”

You nod as you look down at the cigar in your hands. However, figuring out what you’re working with wasn’t as easy as it seemed. You’ve smoked for years but cigars were outside of your expertise.

Price must’ve seen the stupefied look on your face because he says “Don’t look at it like that, lad. It’s a cigar not a ticking time bomb“

“Sorry” you say, shifting in your seat as your free hand fiddles with some loose lint from the sweats you’re wearing.

“That’s alright. Let’s start with something familiar, yeah?” he mindlessly strokes his beard, brows furrowed in concentration as he tries to think of how to explain it.

“You lick your cigarettes right? How come you do that?” You’re momentarily stunned by the fact that he’s picked up on this. But his question hits you next and you can’t help but feel embarrassed when you confess.

“Force of habit I guess” you shrug, rubbing at your neck as your eyes wander from him to some random spot on the window sill.

Hey, you’re a smoker not a smoke connoisseur. You don’t know the ins and outs of nicotine.

He sighs heavily and drags his hand down his chin before he speaks “That’s alright.” he says before he goes to explain. “ It's a form of prepping, not really necessary for cigarettes but some smokers do it. However prepping is essentials for cigars”

He then goes on to raise his arm in the air, giving you a clear view of the cigar in his hand.

“First thing first you do a pinch test, it’s pretty simple really. You pinch it between your thumb and point finger. Do not roll it however. If it’s dry it’ll cause unnecessary friction which in turn will cause more tears in the leaf”

He starts to demonstrate the step. You try to focus but your eyes can’t help but wander all over his hands.

Despite the cigar being quite big, it looks something akin to a cigarette in his grip and although he’s got a rather delicate grip on the cigar you know just how rough he can be with his hands. You’ve seen it many times out on the field, and have even imagined what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the treatment. His hands always look so big and strong, dusted in chestnut hair and lined with thick blue veins. You can’t help but think of how pretty they look as he demonstrates the step.

“You still with me, lad?”

You lick your lips, mouth feeling dryer than any tobacco leaf. “Yeah “

“Now do so with yours. Remember just add some light pressure, it doesn’t need much more than that” he says, once again demonstrating the step. You start to feel a pressure in your chest as heats floods from your head down to your feet. You try to focus on his words but they only seem to add to the lightheadedness you’re feeling.

“You listening?” He asks, taking note of your dazed expression.

You only manage a hum in response to his question as you go to follow his instructions. “It shouldn’t crackle since they should be properly humidified anyway but it’s always good to know the basics yeah?” He says when you both notice there’s no crackling to be heard from the cigar in your hands.

“Now we cut it. I keep this baby on me at all times “ Price says before he pulls out a pocket knife.

“There's all types of fancy shit for cutting but the principle is to cut as little as possible rather than the opposite. You just kind of snip it off” he says as he places the knife at the tip and executes the move perfectly.

“Now you try,” he hands it over to you and you can’t help but feel quite confident in this part. The task didn’t seem complicated anyway. But as you go to cut it, it turns out to be much harder than it seemed. The cut is nothing like Price’s. If anything it’s jaggedy and has the tobacco leaves crackling at the tip.

“That’s alright, you can-“

Before he gets the chance to say anything else, you wrap your lips around the tip, allowing your spit to smoothen out any loose pieces.

“Oh- “ you look up at Price only to see him swallow hard.

“That’s a good lad” he says, voice sounding deeper when he speaks “was gonna say to not slobber it down in saliva but you seem to know your thing “

Your face feels hot when you go to respond.“Thanks”

It’s strange- this relationship you got with your captain. At first sight it might seem that you’re the one throwing flirty remarks around here. And he’s the one who acts unphased, or even annoyed at your flirting attempts. But matter of fact is he’s the one making suggestive remarks whether consciously or subconsciously and you’re the one phased by it. You wish you too could be as unphased as him because his recovering time for these types of situations is remarkable, really.

His voice is void of any previous emotion when he goes to speak again “Now to the last part, we light it”

And of course you try to keep with him.

“Never thought we’d get to it” you say, hoping and praying you seem just as unphased as he seems . But you can still feel your face burning and your voice slightly wobbling and the intense look he’s giving you isn’t helping you very much either.

“Hey you wanted me to teach you” Price reminds you with a pointed look.

“Go on please” you gesture dramatically before leaning back in your seat.

“The way you choose to light it will affect the taste. It’s all a matter of preference so to say “

“And how do you like yours to taste?” Your words come out more suggestive than intended and you can hear Price sucking in a sharp breath, head tilting and his eyes boring into yours when he says “I prefer to take my time with things, enjoy it thoroughly, make the most out of it if you know what I mean”

The mood feels different; stirring in a direction that has nothing to do with cigars and everything to do with something else, something-

“You’ll achieve that with a soft flame”

And it's quickly broken again.

Price fishes a box of matches out of his pocket, slides it open and takes a few of them before pocketing it again.

“Always use two matches but don’t be fooled, you can’t hurry the process this is just to ensure the cigar burns even. You with me?”

You nod - maybe a bit too eagerly to show him you’re listening, brows furrowed and lips puckered in concentration and if you’d be focused on someone else you’d see the ghost of a smile on Price’s face.

“You strike the matches and tilt them downwards, then rotate your cigar around the them “

“Like a marshmallow ” the words slip mindlessly out of your mouth and his eyes widen in surprise before he laughs.

You feel the tip of your ears go red but smile at what he says next “Fuckin’ hell, sure like a marshmallow “

Instead of saying something else that would result in making a bigger fool of yourself, you choose to do as he says.

You take two matches from him and attempt to strike them.

However it feels like the universe is on a mission to make you seem like the biggest fool because for some reason you can’t light up your match.

After your third failed attempt paired with some curses under your breath Price decides to offer you some help.

He leaves his place on the window sill, and leaves his cigar in the ashtray to stand behind you instead. But just as he does it, you manage to light them yourself. However for some reason he chooses not to go back to his seat.

“Like that,” you hear him before you see him, and smell his cologne behind the clouds of smoke.

You try to keep your focus as you slowly rotate the cigar in your hands

“Good lad you’re doing so good,” the words make you feel like a match ignited, burning from your head down to your toes.

“Is it done?” You don’t know what you’re asking about- the lessons or the torture he’s unknowingly putting you through.

“Ever heard of the word patience, kid?“ he chides and if it weren’t for your close proximity making you feel all funny you’d say something to him.

“Just one more round of matches and you’re good to go yeah?” His voice is gruff and breathy when he speaks, almost akin to the tone he uses when he gives commands on the field. You feel the wisps of hair from his beard brushing across your ear and the heat from the close proximity of your bodies. You chose to nod in response, opting to bite your tongue in fear of saying something you might regret later on.

Soon you find yourself with a lit cigar in your hands.

“There now to the last step” the heat quickly disappears as a gust of cold wind creeps onto your skin and you’re sure it’s not because of the open window but rather from the space between your bodies as he goes back to his own seat.

“The most important rule of smoking- if you’re to remember anything out of this- is to not inhale it but rather take a light drag. Your body and your lungs will be thankful for sparing them, see it as something you slosh around in your mouth rather than shove down your windpipe”

You raise a brow at his choice of words.

“I am not the best teacher, “ he shrugs before picking up his cigar again.

He puts it between his lips and takes a light drag of it and you can’t help but think that he looks attractive doing it.

You never thought smoking was attractive. You smoked to ease your nerves and couldn’t wrap your head around what would be so attractive about a little nicotine stick and the awful smell that came along with it. But looking at him now with his eyelids hanging low, head tilted to the side as he exhales the smoke, you finally understand why people thought so. Especially now, with his Adam’s apple on show, dog tags gleaming behind the clouds of smoke and his toned arms flexing every time he goes to take another drag of the cigar.

“You do the most work in the beginning until you see white smoke. That’s how you know it’s properly lit and you can actually start to enjoy it“ Price’s voice sounds stern when he speaks; like a knowledgeable teacher sharing information to his interested students. And you sure were interested: in more ways than one.

“Most work in the beginning huh?” You grin wolfishly at him.

“You pull a lot of jokes, kid “ he chuckles as he continuously spins the cigar in his hand.

Kid. Your nose scrunches at the word “Not a kid and who said it’s a joke?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead he tilts his head and rubs his beard as if mulling over something before speaking again.

“You try now”

You nod your head as you attempt to focus on the task at hand. But it isn’t easy, your eyes flicker from his fingers, to his lips, to the way he sits leaned back in his seat with smoke surrounding him.

Before you know it you’re inhaling the cigar, doing the complete opposite of what he told you and within seconds you feel the smoke hitting you all at once; blurring your vision and sending you into a coughing fit.

“I told you not to inhale it” he tuts as he leans over to take the cigar from your hands before he goes to pat your back “damn shame you seemed so good at following directions, what happened?”

You try to speak but the burning sensation in your throat cuts you off. His hand is once again on your back rubbing up and down aimlessly before he suddenly gets up and you instinctively grab onto him “I’m just going to get something to drink” he says, repeating his words from before and you nod, allowing him to do so.

“Here” he says a moment later, pressing a cold water bottle against your cheek.

You flinch away from the cold sensation, but grab it anyway, downing more than half the bottle within seconds.

“Take it easy or you’ll choke again, boy”

Despite the advice you find yourself unable to slow down and you down the rest like a man parched.

He chuckles at your actions and grabs hold of your chin, turning your head to face him.

“That good?” He asks, eyes shining with both hints of worry and amusement.

You nod in response feeling heat creep up your neck and ears. The feeling intensifies when his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, wiping off any remaining liquid before he pops it in his mouth to lick it off of him.

“I - I can do better” you croak out, still trying to catch your breath.

“What’s that boy?”

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, braving yourself to speak “I meant what I said I can do it, let me try again”

His gaze shifts between your eyes and your lips, seemingly making a decision when he goes to speak.

“Alright, come here “ he says before he goes back to his seat on the window sill, cigar tucked back between his lips, and with smoke surrounding him. He looks delectable to say the least.

As if it were a reflex your body complies to his request, shuffling over to sit closer to him.

You can feel your knees brushing, smell the scent of his cologne mixing with the cloud of smoke, can even see each and every eyelash on his eye along with the gray hairs sprinkled across his chestnut beard.

You thought you couldn’t get any closer than this but suddenly he leans further in and your eyes go wide as you watch him. His hand goes to your head, strokes your hair, and brushes back any loose strands or flies aways before it glides across your cheeks, until finally stopping at your lips.

“Open up, now” he says, one hand under your chin and the other tapping his cigar against your lips.

“Lets try this again, yeah? You did so well, don't want the lesson to go to waste” You hum in response, parting your lips before wrapping them around the cigar. However you don’t take a drag. Instead you await his command.

“Remember gently, no need to put much effort into it, yeah?”

You nod as you put all your focus into doing as he says and finally you manage to take a proper drag of it, enough to taste it and enough to blow it out properly as well.

“Good lad. I knew you could do it “ the look of pride on his face along with his words goes straight to your head. Like the cat that got the cream, you think to yourself.

You go to take another drag of it and as you do he places his hand on the small of your back, soothingly rubbing up and down the length of it. You try to focus on the cigar rather than his touch because you fear that in itself will send you into a coughing fit. But it’s hard to stay focused on the cigar when his hand leaves the small of your back and makes its way up to your neck instead. You’re just about to blow out the smoke when his hand wraps around your neck and gently squeezes it.

You part your lips in surprise and as you do so smoke leaves your mouth, coming out in little circles that quickly dissipate in the air. Your eyes widen at your little trick and he just chuckles at your reaction, before releasing his grip completely and leaning back a bit.

“Little trick I learnt “ he says innocently, shrugging even before he clears his throat, eyes avoidant of your own but manages a thank you when you pass the cigar back to him.

A rather awkward silence falls over you two as you try to process what happened. Price’s hand around your neck- the shy reaction you got from it- the fact that he knew this trick in the first place. It all hangs in the air like clouds of smoke and puts your mind in daze. It’s hard to snap out of it but once you do you wonder if you should say something or move on to the next subject. Looking at him you can clearly see he’s embarrassed about it so you choose to spare him but you also choose to store this moment in your mind for when you’re in desperate need of a replay.

“Gotta give it to you, you were right about the taste. It’s pretty nice actually”

He inhales sharply at that, eyes falling to your lips as he goes to speak “Yeah? Why don’t you describe it to me? Last part of the lesson. Need you to name the flavors ” His hand is now at your thigh, fingertips mindlessly tracing circles onto it and you think it isn’t fair of him. He can clearly see the way your body is reacting to him- to his touches- to his words and he still expects you to function.

You must’ve taken too long to respond because Price’s hand squeezes your thigh in warning “Sergeant”

“Creamy- it tastes creamy sir “ you stumble over your words but still manage to get out a response.

He hums in response, hand tightening at your thigh before once again squeezing it to get your attention. “Anything else? Any specific flavor you can name. Go on, take another drag of it“ he says before passing the cigar back to you. For once you’re thankful that your body reacts so easily to his commands. Your head’s far too gone at this point to be able to give your body instructions.

You take another drag of the cigar, allowing the smoke to coat your tongue before exhaling it. There’s a rich sweetness accompanied with a certain bitterness dancing across your taste buds “Coffee tastes like coffee sir- maybe even hits of almond as well?” you say through batted lashes, eagerly awaiting his response.

“Correct. My favorite” he hums in approval.“You’re a quick learner,huh?” The phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head again but this time you couldn’t care less. This time you'd gladly accept it. You’d gladly be the cat and you’d gladly take all the cream especially if it was -

Price grabs you by the collar of your shirt and pulls you close. “You know what else is good to learn? “

You gasp at the sudden motion and instinctively grab onto him, one hand at his arm, the other barely holding onto the cigar. His voice is dangerously low and breathy and the way his hot breath washes over your neck raises goosebumps all over your body.

You can even feel the tell tale sign of his thick mustache brush up against your neck as he goes to say “subtlety, my boy”

There’s little to no space between your bodies. He’s so close to you that you can hear his gruff voice forming the words at the back of his throat, and feel how they vibrate against his chest as he speaks them. Yet you ache to be closer so you grip tighter onto him and press your body closer to his.

“You were fidgeting around in your seat and barely paying attention to what I was saying. I almost thought you were getting bored of the lesson but that can’t be right now can it? ”

It's no longer wisps of mustache hair brushing against your neck but rather a full beard trailing up to the spot behind your ear. And every time he goes to speak, it brushes relentlessly against the skin, leaving burn marks behind him.

“No- no sir. I’m very eager to learn” your mind’s starting to feel hazy, your breath’s quickening and you can’t help but tighten your grip on him, nails sinking into supple skin. You hear him wince but can’t bring yourself to care nor to loosen your grip.

There's a nagging voice at the back of your head telling you this is just a wet dream or even worse a hallucination as you lay bleeding out on a field. So to silence it you tighten your hold on him, hoping and praying you aren’t just imaging him.

However he seems very much real because his arm feels firm and flexes under your tight grip. Every time you go to take a breath you smell the scent of smoke and cologne that seem to follow him and all you can see is his broad back and the small curls at the back of his neck.

“Mm eager you say '' His accent is much thicker now, desire coating his tongue and slurring his words and his tone is playful like you’ve never heard it be before. All of a sudden you feel his fingers at the back of your head, fingers burrowing into the thick mane of hair before he pulls your head up to face him.

“I expect a response when I speak sergeant “ he says, tugging at your hair in warning.

You whimper at the sting, eyes batting up at him as you go to respond to him “Y- yes sir I’m very eager to learn”

Price looks at you with half lidded eyes and with an arrogant smile across his lips as he goes to cup your cheek. “I suppose someone so eager wouldn’t have any issues repeating the steps we learned today”

“No sir” you manage to spurt out a response as you lean into his touch.

“That’s a good boy” he says as his thumb caresses your cheek. “So good for me, yeah?” His voice almost sounds like the one he uses on the field when he goes to praise his team, except this one is just a bit lower, more breathier and wraps around endearments only meant for your ears.

“How about this,” he begins to say, hand slipping from your cheek, trailing down to your neck and landing on your shoulder. He takes his time to straighten the collar before he speaks again

“if you can tell me all the steps we went through today” he trails off once again as both of his hands slide down the length of your arms before finally stopping at your thighs where they rub soothing circles onto them. “I’ll reward you for it “

“Only if you want to, of course” he says, as he goes to take his hands off your thighs.

“Oh I want to ” you say hurriedly as you grab onto his hand to keep them in place.” A lot, actually” you add in a shaky tone feeling your face heat up at your own words.

His eyes flare with desire and he takes a sharp breath before he says “Sit back for me yeah? One leg on each side of the window, need you to sit comfortably for this okay?”

You do as he says, one foot on the desert ground and the other one on the wooden floor and you automatically lean back on the window frame to make yourself comfortable.

He on the other hand, has one boot clad foot propped on the window sill and the other one hanging to the side of, leaning back comfortably.

Your hands are trembling in your lap, fingers still gripping onto the cigar and you can see goosebumps rising on your bare skin but it’s not because of the cool metal pressing against it or because of the howling wind. It's rather something else and Price seems to know the very reason behind it because he says.

“You’re shaking my boy are you nervous about presenting?” He asks in a mocking tone, before he takes the cigar from you and puts it in between his lips. While you’re trembling in your seat he looks as relaxed as ever, leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and with an expectant smile on his lips.

“No-no sir” you respond as you squirm under his expecting gaze.

“Get on with it then” he says sharply and you spring into action.

“The first thing you do is prepare your cigar. That can make or break the experience… “ you trail off as you scramble your brain for what to say next. But your train of thoughts is quickly cut off by a sudden pressure on your left leg.

Price’s foot gently nudges your thigh and once again, as if it were a reflex, your body responds to him; legs spreading further apart, to make more room for him.

Suddenly, he starts tapping his foot impatiently, purposely grazing his boot clad foot against sensitive skin as he waits for you to recite the next step. Despite the sweats you’re wearing, you’re so worked up that every touch feels like he’s grazing bare skin.

“Go on. I didn’t tell you to stop” he warns as he puts a punishing pressure onto your thigh, harsh sole digging into soft skin and you wince at the impact before you speak.

“To check if your cigar is moist you use your thumb and point fingers and squeeze - squeeze it from top to bottom” the air is punched out of your lungs, your words breaking up as the boot moves from your thigh to instead rest directly atop of your dick.

You gasp, fingers grabbing onto the edges of the window sill as your hips buck to get more of the feeling “I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you say, feeling embarrassed at your body’s reaction.

However Price doesn’t acknowledge your action nor your words. Instead he decides to raise attention to something else.

“No underwear ?” He asks, taking notice of the wet patch forming on your gray sweats.

“No sir I sleep commando” Price curses under his breath and you feel the pressure increase in between your legs.

“ Of course you fuckin do” he hisses and presses down even harsher, making you jolt at the movement and you just know that the embarrassingly big patch is growing larger by the minute with the way Price grins down at the spot between your legs. And when you look down at yourself you don’t only see the large wet spot on your sweats but you also see soil covered footprints all over it. The mess in between your legs shouldn’t turn you on but the sheer sight of it makes you whimper and buck your hips.

“What’s the next step?”

You go to respond but end up choking on your words when you feel the fabric of your sweats slip between your folds and push directly up against your sensitive clit. He even goes to rock his foot side to side, boot continuously assaulting your sensitive numb.

“What’s gotten your little cock so excited you can’t even speak?”

You whimper at his words, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You’re being mean sir”

“Mean?” he asks, voice dripping in faux concern but never once letting up on his torturous movements. “I’m just trying to reward you here. You want your reward, don’t you?”

You nod frantically as you buck your hips up at him. All of a sudden he ceases any and all movements and you snap your eyes open up to look at him.

He raises a brow at you with a wolfish grin on his lips. You blink up at him for a moment, before it clicks; he wants you to work for it.

You almost huff at the realization. Nonetheless you adjust in your seat, hands propping behind your back as you bend at your knees before you gently start to rock your hips: his boot once again hitting your sensitive clit.

“We - we cut it. Not too much though, just the tip” you manage to get out the words before you break off into moans. You don’t realize how loud you’re being until he shushes you. It’s only then you realize that someone else can see or even worse hear you two.

“What if- what if someone sees us sir?” You ask but never once letting up on your movements.

It takes a while for Price to respond, too entranced with the sight in front of him, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed and cigar between his lips. You can barely see his face from the smoke surrounding him but the way his chest is rising and falling at a rapid beat and the way the cigar is shaking in his grip you know he is enjoying your performance.

Truth be told you don’t even know if he heard you in the first place but when you go speak again he says “No one will see anything I promise” he says in reassurance.”Everyone’s fast asleep and if someone even tries to look or listen I’ll teach them to mind their own fuckin business. “

With that you turn your attention back to chasing your high, this time uncaring about who can see or hear as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

However your attention is brought back to him once again when he says “But maybe you’d like them to?” He says, voice sounding thick and gruff. You snap your head towards him only to see him glowering down at you with desire swirling in his blue irises and a playful smile at his lips.

You know he’s just entering the thought of it, he wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with. And you can see his gaze switching from your face to your body to gauge your reaction. And he must see the positive reaction your body gives because he continues “you’d like for them to see how pretty you look all worked up for me? Maybe even jerk themselves off to you? Can't blame them if they did. You look too good like this” you can only moan in response as he continues to talk “maybe you’d even want them to join us. One cock isn’t enough for you. A slut like you needs to get all your holes stuffed to be happy isn’t that right?”

Your pace increases at his words as you lose yourself to the pleasure. But you’re quickly brought back to the present when he says “What’s the next step sergeant?“

You blink back the haze, as you try to scramble your brain for what to say next.

“Next you light it - you need two” at this point you’re just spurting out nonesene, too busy chasing your pleasure.

Although his boot does hit your clit, many times - due to your fast paced beat- it’ll miss, aim too clumsy and messy to reach it. It doesn’t take long for you to make the decision to latch one hand onto his leg, the other making sure to support your weight as you adjust his foot so that the tip of his boot hits your clit every time you rock against it.

You know you’re putting on a show for anyone who might hear or see; legs spread wide apart, arousal and mud covering your sweats as you desperately cling onto Price’s leg and moaning desperately. However you can’t find it in yourself to care, can’t focus on anything other than the pleasure coiling between your legs.

You look up at Price through half lidded eyes and mouth agape only to see a similar expression on his face.

“Jesus, look at you grinding on me like a bitch in heat, you enjoying this hm?”

“Yes yes sir, enjoy it so much” At this point you're slurring your words, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut as you focus on nothing else but the heat growing in your core.

Your heels dig further into the floor, knees cramping from the awkward position and arms aching from supporting your weight for so long. But you refuse to let up on your pace. You’re so close to the finish line you can almost taste it.

“Almost there” you warn him before your mind’s too far gone to say something.

“Then you better explain the last step or there will be none of it, sergeant “ he says as he squeezes your thigh in warning.

“Yes sir” you groan out before you will yourself to speak again “you puff it - you do the most work in the beginning until-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence before you’re cut off by your own moan.

“until what sergeant?” Is the last thing you hear before you lose focus of your surroundings, eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as you chase your high on Price’s boot.

“Until - until - it starts working by-. “ is all you manage to get out before you’re cumming- stumbling over the finish line with your back arched and with a cry of victory.

You don’t even get to warn him before you’re falling back in your seat, arms giving out and legs losing their footing. As you do so the boot accidentally rubs against your clit and for the first time since you ended up in this situation you jerk back from the friction, dick too sensitive.

You end up leaning against your elbow, window frame uncomfortably pressed against your spine and Price’s hands on your thighs keeping you from falling straight to the ground.

“You alright?” Price asks after a moment of silence and you feel his hand on your thigh again, rubbing soothing circles on them.

You hum in response, still lost in bliss and he chuckles as he gives you a moment to come down from it.

Once you do, you flutter your eyes open and smile lazily at him.

“Good job my boy, you did so well”

“Thank you, sir” your face burns as you respond. him and the phrase like the cat that got the cream rings through your head once again.

Suddenly you see Price’s brows furrow, tongue poking past his lips as he looks down at his feet.

“Looks like you left a stain there” he says as nonchalantly as possible and points to his soiled boot “could you clean it up for me please?”

Your eyes flash in surprise and for a moment the words hang in the air.

But as quickly as they came, the words dissipate leaving a haze behind that seems to take over your brain.

“Of - of course, sir “ you say as you scurry out of your seat but before you can get any further he stops you with his foot, firmly pressing it against your chest “with your tongue sergeant “

You suck in a breath and you can feel your dick twitch in your soiled sweats.

“Yes sir”

You lean in so that you’re face to face with the boot he’s wearing. It’s a simple black boot, worn out from everything it’s been through but there’s one spot on top of it that shines like it’s been newly polished. It’s the very same spot you zoom in on, tongue poking past your lips as you trace a path from the very bottom up to the top of it.

You feel the soft leather scrape against your tongue as the familiar taste dances across your tastebuds. And every time you go to lick the boot your nose brushes against the leather and you smell yourself on it. Despite the work you put into cleaning it you know you’ve ruined the spot with your arousal and instead of feeling bad about it you can’t help but moan at the fact that he can’t hide the evidence of the event that had transpired. You give it one last lick before you kiss the boot and smile at him.

He curses under his breath, a mix of swear words accompanied with your name leaving his lips and your grin widens as you sit up again.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, kid” he says all of sudden, patting your thigh lightly before jumping to his feet. “When you’re ready to put out the cigar, just let it rest on the ashtray, it’ll put itself out that way” he says as he shows how to do it with his very own cigar before making his way over to the door.

Within seconds you’re up on your feet, moving on wobbly legs you almost fall back on the window sill.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Lesson’s over” he says simply before looking down at the watch on his wrist “and I’m old and need my rest. “ He looks away from his watch to the mess between your legs.

“Besides, you need to get cleaned up. See you tomorrow, kid” he says with a wink as he leaves.

“See you tomorrow” you say into the now empty room, chuckling in disbelief as you plop yourself back down on the window sill. You’re a sticky mess and should probably go shower but instead you take a drag of your cigar before you say “This man’s truly something else”

#captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #John price x reader #captain John price x male reader #cod #cod x Reader #cod x male Reader #Alec writes #idc if there are any mistakes I’ve been editing this for so long I’m so tired of it fjdjfjfjf #anyway

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matty-bear · 23 days

Text

Curing Dysphoria [N.S]

type: fic !

pairing: nick sturniolo x trans ftm!reader

warnings: SFW, fluff, angst (???), mentions and talk of dysphoria, going on testosterone

summary: you have always struggled heavily with dysphoria ever since you came out as trans. You tried your best to cure it but nothing seemed to work, despite all of your efforts. When you're having another spiral about your dysphoria, nick decides to call up a friend of his who ends up giving you advice that would eventually rid all of your dysphoria and help you pass.

notes: decided we needed more nick x trans ftm fics in this community so i cooked smth up ;3 dont be shy to send in requests that include a trans reader for nick fics ! i am a trans guy myself so writing some will most likely help me feel better abt myself . also its so over for you mfs when i go on t

WC: 4151

previous events will be in italics !

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Your journey with being a trans male was always difficult for you. It was never easy for anyone, so why would you expect it to be easy for you? You constantly struggled with gender expression and dysphoria ever since you came to terms with your gender in your early years of middle school. You often spent hours upon hours sobbing on the floor of your bathroom because you didn’t feel like you were passing enough or simply didn’t like how you looked in general.

Ever since you started dating Nick, who knew of you being trans way before you guys started dating due to you coming out to him when you two became very close friends, he always gave you constant support when you felt shitty about yourself. He often held you close to him when you were having an episode and whispered sweet words that consisted of “You’re such a pretty boy,” “My precious boy,” and “You're so handsome, baby.”

His reassurance never failed to calm you down for the time being. However as you continued to date Nick and your dysphoria grew worse, you knew you had to do something about it. However, since you weren’t friends or aware of other trans people in the community, you didn’t know who to turn to for help.

The most you were doing to try to help with your dysphoria was cutting your hair short, binding with either a binder or tape, and dressing yourself in the most masculine way possible. (This was the least you could do or rather think of to try to make yourself pass as a guy) If you wanted to try extra hard to pass, you would put some makeup on to make certain features pop out more, like your sideburns and cheekbones.

However, you felt that this wasn’t doing enough for you and didn’t feel like you were passing enough despite the constant reassurance from Nick, his brothers, and your friends. You still hated your voice, (which seemed too high for your liking) the thinness of your limbs, and just how feminine you felt and looked as a whole.

When you were spiraling and sobbing profusely in the bathroom one afternoon with Nick holding you tightly against him, the boy knew he had to figure out a way to help you.

After a while, your cries eventually subside to soft sniffles. Even though your eyes seemingly ran out of tears to shed, you still felt the need to cry more. You slowly open your eyes and take in the minimal light in the bathroom, the main light source being Nick’s single candle resting on the counter in front of you. Simply looking at the light causes your eyes to strain and you soon find yourself shutting them again with a soft hiss.

As you rest your head back on Nick’s chest with a heavy exhale and gaze down at your body, you feel the male shift underneath you. You quickly lift your head at the small move and watch as your boyfriend takes his phone out of his pocket and pulls it to his face, a focused expression clear on his face.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice coming out hoarse due to all the crying you just did.

“Trying to call a friend of mine,” Nick replies, his gaze staying fixed on his cell as his eyes scan the screen.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you continue to gaze at the male. “Can I ask for what?”

“I’m asking them for advice on your behalf.”

“Advice? Like for being trans?”

“Yup.”

Your eyebrows kit together even more at Nick’s statement. A few beats of silence flow between the two of you, the only sound being the soft tapping Nick draws from his cell as he taps on his screen. After a moment, you speak up again, “You know someone that’s trans?”

“Yeah, he’s the coolest mother fucker I know. After you of course. You have to meet him sometime.” Nick momentarily looks down at you to send you a warm smile before diverting his eyes back to his phone. “Anyways, he came out as trans about six years ago and I'm sure he’ll know how to help you with your dysphoria and stuff. I would give you advice on this myself but I'm not trans and don’t want to misguide you or anything.”

You softly nod your head and sit up a little to peer down at Nick’s phone, your eyes intently watching his fingers flex as they diligently work on tapping and scrolling on his screen. After a few moments, Nick pulls up a contact and hits the call button.

“Would you like to talk to him yourself?” Nick asks gently, the hand that’s resting on your side gently caressing your clothed skin. “I can put it on speaker if you’d like. If not, that’s perfectly fine and I can do the speaking for you.”

You force your lips together as you ponder for a moment. “I can talk to him.” You reply with a small head nod. “Can you help me through? Like, talk to him?”

“Of course.” Just as Nick lands a soft peck on your temple, the muffled sound of shuffling runs through your ears. You quickly whip your head around at the sudden sound, your eyes soon landing on Nick’s phone. At the sight of the ongoing call screen, you relax a little and gaze up at Nick, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Kit?” Nick calls after a few moments. Immediately, the muffling sounds come to a quick halt and silence can be heard on the other line.

“Nick?” Kit calls back, the deep and smoothness of his voice causing your eyes to widen ever so slightly.

The male simply uttered a reply and you’re already intimidated.

“Are you busy right now?” Nick asks.

“No?..” Kit’s voice trails off, pure and utter confusion laced in his tone. “Wait, did I call you or did you call me?”

“I called you. Did you think it was the other way around?”

“To be honest, yeah.” Kit chuckles softly, “What’s up though?”

“You know y/n right?”

“Yeah, of course I do. You won’t shut the fuck up about him.” Your jaw slacks at the comment and you slowly turn your head to look over at Nick, the sight of the red tint dusting over his cheeks and tips of his ears causing you to smile cheekily. When Nick doesn’t reply after a few seconds, the sound of Kit laughing softly sounds in your ears. “Sorry, had to. But what about him? Is everything alright?”

“Not necessarily. His dysphoria has been getting bad lately and I have no idea how to help him.”

“Oh, I see. Is he with you right now? I want to ask him some stuff if that’s alright with you.”

“He’s right here with me actually.”

“Oh, sweet. Hey, y/n!” Kit greets, his tone nothing but friendly. You could sense that the boy was smiling on the other end just by how cheerful he sounded. “I wasn’t lying about Nick yapping about you. I swear to God that kid does not have an off button when it comes to you.”

“Kit, I swear to God. Shut the hell up. I called you for help not to be called out.” Nick grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I’m stopping. Anyways, y/n do you mind telling me what you’re struggling with the most right now? You could tell me everything. I just want to know what’s going on in that head of yours right now so I can give you the best advice.”

After glancing over at Nick with an anxious expression and gaining an encouraging kiss on the lips from him, you begin to open up to Kit about everything. During your small rant, Kit listened intently and only hummed here and there to let you know he was listening. When you’re finished, you exhale heavily and wipe away the few tears that managed to escape your irises with the back of your hand.

“I think I know what you need,” Kit says, the soft and quick pattering of footsteps sounding from his end.

“You do?” You ask, your eyebrows knitting together as you gaze down at Nick’s phone.

“Yup. There’s this thing that the majority of trans people use called Testosterone. Or better known as ‘T.’ It helps our body go get rid of the feminine traits that we have and practically replace them with masculine ones. I’ve been taking ‘T’ for about five years now and it’s helped cure all of my dysphoria. Shits a life changer I'm telling you.”

“What are the effects of it? Like what are the changes exactly?”

“Well for starters, they vary between trans guys but it makes them taller, helps with hair and public hair growth, muscle gain, voice changes, and they develop a higher…” Kit's voice trails off at the end of his sentence, tension suddenly filling the air as silence sounds from his end.

“Higher what?” You ask, worry and panic filling your veins as your hand raises to your mouth. Just as you begin to bite your nails out of anxiousness, Kit clears his throat before he continues.

“Sex drive. You have a higher sex drive. I would go into more depth about it but I assume you haven’t gone through a bottom surgery and still have your area so I won't get into it. Also, a very important thing, if you continue to take ‘T,’ your period will eventually stop.”

“Are you serious?” Your mouth opens slightly in shock at Kit’s last statement. “Like the period thing.”

“Dead serious. I'm telling you this shit is a fucking live saver. Anyways, you think you're up to taking it?”

“It sounds heavenly so absolutely. How do I get it?”

“Well, you need to get it prescribed to you by a doctor. I can send you to mine so you won’t have to be as anxious going to the office. I promise you, they’re the sweetest person ever and will be so patient with you during the first few weeks or so of you taking it.”

“I’d appreciate that, actually. I have a lot of anxiety when it comes to doctors and shit so going to see someone that you are accustomed to seeing will help ease me a bit.”

“Word. I’ll text them here in a minute to let them know I'm sending you their way before I text Nick the office’s number.”

“Alright, thank you, Kit. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t sweat it! If you ever need help, don’t be shy to tell Nick. Hell, he can even send you my number so we can chat one-on-one if you’re up to it. All your call though! Don’t want to push you out of your comfort zone or anything.”

“I’ll have Nick send me your number. I think it’d be easier texting you myself than talking to you through Nick.”

“Sounds good. Well, if that’s all I'm going to dip now. Text or call me if anything comes up! Nice talking to you, y/n! Oh, and Nick too I guess.”

Nick rolls his eyes, an unamused expression clear on his face as his thumb hovers over the end call button. “Goodbye Kit,” Nick states, his monotone voice drawing a small chuckle from the male on the other line.

“Goodbye Nick.” The moment Kit voices his reply, Nick ends the call and stuffs his phone back in the planet of his pants. After he huffs softly and gazes down at you, he watches as a small smile creeps onto your lips. Feeling his eyes on you, you pick your head up and lock eyes with Nick, a soft red hue immediately taking over the tips of your ears and cheeks.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, a hand coming up to cover your flushed face.

“You look so happy it’s so cute,” Nick replies with a small chuckle. Before you get to add to the conversation, Nick cups your face with both his hands and begins peppering your face with small pecks. The action immediately draws soft laughter from your lips, your eyes shutting and the blush on your cheeks deepening a shade or two.

“Nick!” You exclaim through giggles. You set both your hands on Nick’s shoulders and begin to softly shove him away. After a few moments, the male finally pulls away and gives you the largest and cheesiest smile.

“I love you so much, you know that?” Nick gushes as he sets his forehead against yours.

“I love you more.” You reply softly, a shy chuckle escaping your lips. The moment Nick lands another tender kiss on your cheek, the sound of his phone dinging alerts the both of you.

“God, that’s kids fast as hell,” Nick mumbles. You pull back from Nick’s grasp to allow him to grab his phone out of his pocket again. After turning the device on and scanning his eyes over the screen for a few seconds, he flips the phone towards you. You blink a few times to get your eyes to adjust to the bright light drawing from Nick’s phone and when you’re finally able to see his screen properly, your eyes skim over the single message resting on the lock screen.

KIT

Just texted Remi. Here’s their number xxx-xxx-xxxx txt them when you want!

Your eyes light up at the text and you quickly lift your head to meet Nick’s gaze. “Text them!” You exclaim as you latch onto the boy’s shoulders. As you begin to shake him, Nick chuckles softly and rests his hands on your arms.

“Alright, alright. I won’t be able to text them if you keep shaking me.” Nick says through soft laughter. You immediately stop your actions and drop your hands onto your lap at the male’s statement.

“My bad.” As you rub your nape and gaze down at the floor, Nick smiles softly and sets a hand in your hair to ruffle it. The action draws a small surprised exclamation from you however you don’t lean away and rather you simply smile widely.

“You gotta stop apologizing kid” Nick scolds gently with a small shake of the head. You smile innocently at the boy and lean into his palm when he begins to card his fingers through your hair. “I'm gonna give Remi a text, alright?”

You eagerly nod your head and look up at Nick through your lashes, the large smile on your lips not faltering. As you quietly watch the male type away on his phone, you begin to feel the excitement build up inside you. If ‘T’ was just as good as Kit said it'd be, you could kiss all of your dysphoria away and finally live a worry-free life. You would finally be happy if everything worked out like you hoped it would.

You wouldn't have to spend hours upon hours on the bathroom floor spiraling and sobbing about your appearance and wouldn't have to feel the need to hide out in your and Nick’s place. You'd be content with your life and God knew you were in desperate need of some happiness in your life.

_______

TIME SKIP

It's been about three and a half months since you've been taking testosterone. It took about a week to see results but when you started to see some bodily changes, you were over the moon. The first change you took notice of was your skin texture. Your skin started to become very oily and thick and you had to make a few changes in your skincare routine to help fix it. Nothing too major.

The next change was your odor. Now, you were plenty aware of males carrying a natural and unpleasant scent but you weren't quite prepared to develop it yourself. When you noticed this, you made sure to change your cologne to a stronger smelling one in hopes of making your newfound ‘stench.’

The next change, which was the one you were looking forward to the most, was your voice. You slowly but surely started to develop a deeper voice as you continued to take your dosages. When this change started occurring, you felt as though you were going through puberty again. (Which was fine by you. If it took you going through puberty a hundred more times just to pass and get rid of your dysphoria, you were more than willing to do it.)

As your voice started to change, the number of voice cracks you developed was embarrassing, to say the least. When Nick took notice of this, the usual teasing he did seemed to increase significantly.

EXHIBIT A

You silently watched some supernatural series you stumbled upon on your TikTok feed as you lay down on the sofa at Nick’s place. The Sturniolo household was awfully quiet with both Matt and Chris being out with their friends. This ultimately left you and Nick to do whatever y'all want without being interrupted by the two males, You were so absorbed in the show that played rather loudly on your phone that you failed to notice Nick walk downstairs and enter the living room.

Noticing that you weren't aware of his presence yet, the male quietly made his way over to you. Upon arriving at the sofa where your frame lay comfortably, he peered over the back of the sofa to make sure he wasn't in your line of sight before loudly shouting and grabbing both of your arms. At the sudden exclamation, you scream loudly, your voice cracking in the progress, and you soon find yourself stumbling off the sofa and falling to the floor.

The moment your back collides with the floorboards with a soft thud, the sound of Nick’s loud laughter runs through your ears.

“You sound like a fucking elementary school boy!” Nick exclaims through hard laughter. As you boost yourself up into a sitting position, you roll your eyes. The moment you shift your gaze up, you watch Nick stumble around the sofa and walk up to you, soft giggles still escaping his lips. The moment he takes in the harsh glare you're sending him, he begins laughing hard again.

“Nick.. It's never that funny.” You grumble, your voice low as you try to bite back the smile threatening to creep onto your lips.

“It's so funny!” As you sigh heavily, Nick falls to the floor as more laughs rack his body.

“I can't with you.” You boost yourself up to your feet and leave the living room to go to the kitchen, leaving Nick laughing his heart out on the floor in the living room.

You were hoping that these voice cracks of yours would decrease the more that took testosterone but that was the least of your concerns at this point. The final change you took notice of (as of right now) was the muscle building up on your arms. Your once-thin limbs started to gain quite a few muscles as you continued to take the medication and you didn't have to do very much to keep it up.

You were quite happy with the sleeper build you had going on considering how you always wanted one but you wanted to attempt to build more muscle. When you began to work on your physique, Nick immediately took notice of it.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you stood in front of Nick’s front door. The winter wind was harshly hitting your face and the only thing that covered your body and provided you with a little warmth was the hoodie loosely hugging your frame. You would let yourself in the house however you left the spare key Nick gave you in his room. As you shut your eyes and heavily exhale, the sound of the door unlocking rings through your ears. Upon the door opening with a soft creek, you open your eyes and you’re immediately greeted by Nick who has a large blanket tucked around him.

“What the hell are you doing in sweatpants and a hoodie?” Nick asks as he narrows his eyes at you.

“This is all I had in my closet. Everything else was in the washer or dryer.” You reply with a frown. Nick huffs softly and grabs your bicep to pull you inside, the warm air filling the house immediately drawing a content sigh from your lips. “God, it feels amazing in here.”

As you turn around to face Nick, a bewildered expression paints your features at the sight of the male intently staring at your arm, specifically the area he is currently grasping.

“You good? Do I have something on me?”

“No, no, you don't have anything on you.”

“Then what's wrong?”

Silence drifts between the two of you as Nick continues to wordlessly stare at your arm. Feeling rather uneasy with the silence, you open your mouth to say something however are interrupted by Nick saying, “Did you start working out?”

Your face immediately flushes as Nick finally shifts his gaze up to you. After locking eyes with the boy, you slowly nod your head and reply, “Yeah.”

“SINCE WHEN?? LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING ARMS!”

You hold back a chuckle when Nick begins to feel your bicep, his eyes wide in pure shock. “Since like last week. As much as I liked my sleeper build I had to work on my physique a little more.”

“Holy fuck y/n…” Nick mutters under his breath as he takes his other hand and begins to squeeze your other arm. As the male continues his actions, you can't help but notice the subtle shade of blush dusting over the tips of his ears and cheeks. Your eyebrows furrow slightly at the sight and a mischievous smile soon overtakes your lips as you continue to gaze at the boy.

“You know what else I've been working on?

“What?” When you gently grasp Nick’s wrist and remove it from your bicep, he silently watches as you rest his palm on your stomach. The moment you set his hand against your clothed torso, his face flushes a deep red color, followed by his eyes widening. You can't help but laugh at the sight of the hard blushing boy in front of you and you pull his hand away as you double over in laughter.

“You want me dead, don't you?” Nick mumbles, his free hand quickly coming up to cover his face.

“Maybe.” As you stand upright again, you send Nick a teasing smile before you grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss, the feeling of the male melting into the affection bringing a small smile to your lips.

Since you were only a few months into taking testosterone, you knew that you would experience more changes. Remi, the doctor that Kit suggested you see, filled you in on what those changes would be and when you would most likely experience each of them. They were very supportive on your entire journey of being on ‘T’ and didn’t hesitate to answer any questions that you have regarding it.

When you were beginning to run out of gel, (they suggested you take this type of testosterone considering your great fear of needles. You tried to take it through the injections but even with Nick’s help, it never went well.) you immediately notified them and they sent you another dosage.

Kit was also very supportive and encouraging during this whole process. He often texted you every week or so to ask how you were holding up and such. When you told him about the changes you were experiencing or if he caught onto them himself, he showed a lot of excitement for you.

The most encouraging person however was obviously Nick. He always reminded you to apply your gel if it slipped your mind and often suggested that he put it on you himself. Every time you notice a subtle change in your body, you don’t hesitate to call the boy and inform him of it. At times, you felt as though he was more excited by your accomplishments than you were.

Every time you came over and your voice had gone through a slight change or you were starting to gain a little more height, he would be smiling widely and devouring you in pecks all over your face. (This would often lead to a small make-out session in his room but no one’s gotta know that) He was always so happy for you and showed you nothing but love and support and you would be forever grateful for him.

You were plenty aware of the fact that your journey as a trans male was far from over however you knew that Nick would be by your side every step of the way.

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ghoulangerlee · 17 days

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are you watching me with eyes of a predator ; swiss/ifrit

commissioned by @wrathofrats, this one got to be so out of control from what I originally planned but I do have to say I'm very happy with how it turned out haha.

7k of sloppy sex featuring newly summoned Swiss and Ifrit who's in charge of his surface acclimation.

content: wing/feather kink, Just The Tip, cunnilingus, Wet&Messy, multiple orgasms, vague play at Innocence kink, Ifrit-bimbofication, Swiss has a cunt in this one though he's not explicitly mentioned to be trans (cunt and clit and folds are used for his anatomy).

read it here on ao3!

fic under the read more:

The summoning chambers are always cold, mostly dark—the ceilings high and grand in a way that makes it feel less like a basement and more like a chapel.

At least, that’s what Ifrit thinks as he stands off to the side, watching Cardinal Copia putter around the chamber, the circle is pristine and stark in the center of the room and each candle corresponding with the elemental symbol sits in its place—it's all too perfect really, so much different from the other summonings he’s been a part of.

He’s only here to be part of the welcoming crew, as his place in the band had been dissolved, much to his own relief. There was an ache in him after Terzo’s death, something about going back on stage with a new face didn’t sit right with him, made him feel jumpy and nervous—he's not sure why, but he knew that once Cardinal Copia became part of it all, he’d need to step back.

So, he did.

But he’s been helping with a few behind the scenes things for now, practicing with Dew, who’s taken his spot in the band, working with Rain, the new water ghoul that Cardinal Copia had summoned—and while it wasn’t the exciting life that Terzo had promised him when he was first summoned, it was definitely different.

The Cardinal is speaking, reciting Latin from a book he’s holding, chanting through stanzas of words as the circle on the floor starts to come to life—around them, the others are waiting with bated breath to see if the offering, if the request is enough to entice another ghoul forward.

It can be tricky sometimes to find the ghouls who want to come to the surface, and while it's supposed to be voluntary, he knows that sometimes it’s not, and in the past, it had been such a big thing within the church.

He likes to think that Cardinal Copia is on the right side of history these days, but it’s always hard to tell—he'd been summoned and promised so many things, only for his summoner to be murdered and his station in church be questioned by the very people who’d carried out the murder.

There’s a hush in the room and Ifrit’s drawn back to the present in enough time to see a ghoul claw its way out of the portal—stark black skin and shining mismatched eyes, the ghoul has feathers but smells strongly of fire, of burning wood and ozone.

Ifrit is almost immediately enamored.

His name is Swiss, at least, that’s what he settles on after the others gather round and toss out name suggestions—they all have names, but some of them are harder for humans to vocalize, most of them unable to properly speak Infernal in a way that’s understandable.

It’s just easier to choose a new name, rather than be referred to as ghoul all the time (though this doesn’t discount the ghouls who do want to be called ghoul; it’s their prerogative, but Ifrit doesn’t like the way the word sits on a human tongue, sounding more like an insult than a name.).

When Swiss grins at being called Swiss, Ifrit has to look away from that sharp yet bright smile, the sparkle in his eyes—one is a soft lavender color and the other a warm brown, because suddenly he wants to be the reason that Swiss is smiling.

Cardinal Copia calls him forth and Ifrit goes, while the others are still fawning over Swiss, he ignores it in favor of focusing on the human, standing with his hands clasped behind his back in front of him.

“I know you’re probably tired of this,” Cardinal Copia says with a wry sort of laugh, “But do you have the bandwidth to acclimate one more ghoul?”

Ifrit grins, looks back at where Swiss is standing in a half-formed circle with the others, then back at the Cardinal, he shrugs, tries not to show his excitement at the prospect of it all, “I could move a few things around.”

The worry lines on the Cardinals face seem to melt away and he smiles, reaches out and gently pats his gloved hand against Ifrit’s sleeve covered arm, “Thank you, I’ll make sure to requisition pay for this,” he says as a promise—and yeah, the money is good, but the idea of having a newly summoned hybrid ghoul almost outweighs it.

Well. He’s getting a bit ahead of himself.

“No worries, Cardinal. I know the song catalogue too; do you know what you’re going to have him do yet? We can work on that once we finish with the acclimation.”

Cardinal Copia looks thoughtful, “I’ll need to think it over first, but I’ll let you know. If you could get him familiar with it all though, that’d be wonderful.”

“No problem,” Ifrit says with a casual indifference that he’s somewhat proud of, “If there’s anything else just let me know. I’m going to go ahead and,” he breaks off, waving his hand in the direction of the other ghouls—they've got Swiss wrapped up in a cloak now, hood pulled over his head, but despite that, Ifrit can still see the glow of his eyes. “We’re going to head up to the den now if that’s alright with you.”

(Expecting a newly summoned ghoul to glamour so soon can backfire sometimes, can be messy and horrifying if they’re not used to the surface, if their magic isn’t attuned to everything, if they’re without a proper pack—not that Swiss had been summoned packless, he’d been, by default, initiated the moment he accepted the offerings, but still, it was better safe than sorry.)

The Cardinal pats Ifrit’s arm one more time before stepping back, “Yes, of course, thank you again. I’ll be in touch about the rest of it all. And you should expect payment within the next week. I trust that you’ll take care of him.”

Ifrit smiles sickly sweet, “Of course, Cardinal, only the best care for the band ghouls.”

Swiss is different, Ifrit learns as the two of them spend a lot of time together—almost immediately after the pack whisk him away out of the basement and up to the den, the tense line of his shoulders goes loose and the drops the hood down from over his head.

He grins at Ifrit, cocking his head to the side—his tightly coiled curls bouncing with the movement of his head, “Didn’t realize there could be two fire ghouls in the band.”

There’s something melodic and mesmerizing about his voice and Ifrit blinks a few times to clear the sudden fog in his mind, “There’s not,” he answers, “I’m not in the band, I just help with the administrative stuff.”

Swiss cocks an eyebrow at him, “So I’m administrative stuff then?” he asks, shifting the cloak around his shoulders enough that the front of it opens just enough for Ifrit to get an eyeful of dark, bare skin; the flash of lavender further down.

He clears his throat, “Acclimation falls under administrative,” he says, knowing how stupid he sounds as he says it, but unable to stop his mouth from continuing the thought, “I’m pretty good at it. Acclimating new ghouls to the surface.”

“Oh?” Swiss asks, his eyes shining in amusement, tugging the front of the cloak together again, “Well, then I’m glad that I’m in your capable hands,” he purrs, stepping further into Ifrit’s space, “I’m sure you’ll teach me all about life on the surface.”

He does, or he tries to, but Swiss is so distracting—on purpose it feels like.

It takes Swiss several days to fully form his glamour, so he spends a good portion of the time before mostly nude; not uncommon because Rain had been completely nude for the first few weeks of him time here, but Ifrit hadn’t wanted to drag Rain to his bed in the same way that he wants Swiss there.

And Swiss seems to know it too, if the way he preens whenever he catches Ifrit watching him, the way he seems to purposely run his fingers through the no doubt soft feathers that Ifrit can see peeking just above the waistband of the slacks he’s wearing.

Unfortunately, Ifrit knows just how far those feathers go down as pants were a new thing for Swiss within the last day, now choosing to mostly walk around shirtless within the den—he’s less feathered below the belt, he’d explained, and every shirt he’d tried on thus far just felt constricting to his feathers.

Again, everything was fine.

He was sure that this was a very normal thing that air ghouls went through, he was summoned after Zephyr, so he hadn’t had a chance to see if this was just how they were on the surface or not, too focused on his own acclimation.

He was sure that his own mind made things worse because of how attractive he found Swiss, because the others seemed less enamored by him, though no doubt just as friendly, like pack were.

Like Ifrit should have been.

Instead, he was here trying his best not to scare off Swiss—sex was a natural thing, as natural to them as breathing most of the time, their nature as ghouls meant they had less reservations about things than humans did so it should have been no problem, just bring it up to Swiss and then it’d be done.

They could fuck about it and move on with the acclimation.

But maybe, just maybe Ifrit had been around humans for too long and now he’s here, reconsidering everything; thinking about going to the Cardinal and letting him know that he’ll need to get someone else to help with the acclimation because he couldn’t do it with a clear head.

Not when his baser instincts were nearly screaming at him to take Swiss to bed, to make him his.

Maybe, if he could just ignore the voice inside his head, telling him that every little thing Swiss was doing was Swiss opening up to him, accepting him as some sort of sexual partner even though he hadn’t asked—well, if he could ignore it, then he wouldn’t feel so awful about the focus he was putting on trying to make sure Swiss understood what life on the surface was like instead of putting his focus on pack bonding.

(If he focused too hard on Swiss and pack then his mind tended to get possessive. The urge to take Swiss and hide him away, the need to be the one to make Swiss smile, laugh, happy.)

Swiss however, was no idiot.

“You smell like you want to fuck,” Swiss says bluntly, head tilted as he corners Ifrit—he's taller, by only a few inches, taller, but not as broad as Ifrit, except when he’s got Ifrit backed up against the wall of the den, Ifrit feels small.

Ifrit makes a noise, presses his hands flat against the wall, “Oh, it’s...almost time for. You know how ghoul biology works,” he says, though it's a flimsy excuse, about six months too early to really mean anything—the pulse of heat under his skin has nothing to do with anything other than the way Swiss is looking down at him.

“Mmhm,” Swiss says, somewhat like he barely believes him and well, fair, even Ifrit barely believes the things he’s said. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me all that much, firebird,” he plants a hand beside Ifrit’s head and leans down into his space, “But your scent tells me that you do like me and it’s very confusing.”

That’s all fine and dandy because Ifrit is also confused.

“I’m supposed to help you acclimate,” Ifrit says carefully, not wanting to reveal too much about himself or the entire situation, “Cardinal Copia asked me to do it because the others are preparing for the tour coming up, easier to delegate to the guy who’s not going on tour.”

Swiss tilts his head, his mismatched eyes look bigger up close, shiny and wide as he stares into Ifrit’s eyes before leaning back, “I’ve been on the surface before,” he says slowly, “I...am almost certain I mentioned that before. I know how this whole thing works, just not the glamour bit cause I didn’t need one of those where I was last summoned.”

Swiss may have mentioned it once, maybe twice, if Ifrit thinks about it too hard and pushes past the weird feelings he has around that, not that Swiss being summoned previously is a problem—it's actually the opposite of it, it’s something so grand that Ifrit almost wants to propose they fuck about this whole misunderstanding.

(Is it really a misunderstanding if only Ifrit misunderstood?)

“You’ve been really weird this whole time, you smell like you want me but then you shy away from touching me,” Swiss stares hard at Ifrit’s face, almost enough to make Ifrit squirm, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have some sort of weird thing about wanting to fuck me but not wanting to fuck me because I’m new.”

It’s a little judgmental, his words, and Ifrit can’t help the stir of shame, the flood of arousal, he swallows heavily, works his jaw a few times trying to find the right words, “Well,” he says, “I just don’t want to come on too strong or anything.”

Swiss laughs then, it’s a loud and boisterous sound and it fills Ifrit with warmth, “Too strong?” he asks, and then he reaches up, shuffles his fingers through his own hair, lower down towards the back of his neck, works something free—a feather, it’s soft purple on the ends, the color fading into a warm chocolate brown towards the base.

Ifrit watches somewhat dumbly as Swiss brings the feather closer, drawing the tip of it against his cheek, down his jaw, ticking his throat, “I think when you figure out your little shame thing, you should come find me,” he whispers.

He flushes, pale pink against his gray skin, eyes fluttering a little as Swiss drags the tip of the feather across his collarbones, “Maybe we can work something out,” he continues, speaking in a near whisper now as he finally straightens, pulls the feather away from Ifrit’s skin.

“But you’ve got to be the one to make the first move, baby,” Swiss murmurs smoothly, reaching down to take Ifrit’s hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of his palm before he presses the feather into Ifrit’s hand, a clear sign of his intentions.

“Too strong?” he asks as he takes a few steps back, a satisfied grin on his lips as he watches Ifrit for a moment. “You know where to find me, baby.”

Before Ifrit’s able to form a proper sentence, Swiss is gone, melting into the shadows like some kind of apparition, leaving behind a feather and the lingering scent of burning wood and ozone.

It takes him decidedly less time to get over himself as Swiss had put it in not so many words, the feather held delicately between his fingers as he paced the length of the den, sure that if he were to walk any harder or any faster, he’d wear a hole in the stone.

“Oh, he finally told you, huh?” Dew asks, coming into the den, carrying a basket of laundry, “We were wondering if you were ever going to catch on that he was trying to get your attention.”

Ifrit stops walking, turns to look at Dew, who’s stopped by the door, watching him, “You knew?” he asked, “Why didn’t you say something?”

Dew snorts softly and hefts the basket of laundry up higher on his hip, “What? And miss a chance to watch you fumble around? You were the one who decided to think too loud with your dick and ignore what Swiss was saying to you.”

“I’ll admit that I’ve been handling him too carefully,” Ifrit says, only mildly insulted by Dew’s insinuation, “But, the last thing anyone needs is being accosted by the person helping them acclimate when they’re first summoned.”

Unimpressed, Dew finally moves further into the room and places the laundry basket down on the couch, “Yeah, he made it very clear that first week that he wasn’t new to the surface, and one could argue that he made it clearer by accepting your advances, however unconscious those were,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Seriously though, and I mean this in the nicest way I can muster, you smell absolutely disgusting to me right now, will you please go take care of that so things can go vaguely back to normal.”

It’s not a question and there’s an undercurrent of annoyance in Dew’s tone that Ifrit’s not too keen on pushing, “Yeah, sure, I was just thinking,” he holds the feather up, twirling it between his fingers, “I’ll get out of your hair, take care of everything and you’ve got nothing to worry about, big guy.”

Dew levels him with another unimpressed stare, “Just go,” he says, “Satan help me, you’re the one acting like you’ve never bedded a new summon before.”

A fair point that Ifrit doesn’t try to argue on, choosing instead to leave the communal den and to leave Dew to his chores, heart pounding as he heads down the hallway towards the separate dens each ghoul has—the whole time Dew’s words bounce around in his head.

Accepting your advances.

“Was I really that obtuse?” he asks himself out loud as he hurries further down the hallway until he comes to a stop in front of Swiss’s room.

The door’s ajar, just slightly, and there’s low humming coming from inside.

Ifrit pauses there with his hand raised to knock, biting his lower lip. He could knock, could push the door open and announce his presence—he could, but he stops for a moment, steps back and takes a deep breath.

“You can come inside, you know,” Swiss’s voice calls out, amused, “I won’t bite unless you ask first.”

He pushes the door open just enough to slip inside and closes it quietly behind him—Swiss's room smells strongly of the multi-ghoul and little else; the scent of smoldering wood permeates the area, filling Ifrit’s senses, calling to him; there’s an undercurrent of something fresh, the smell of open air on a sunny day.

Swiss himself is lounging on the bed, blankets haphazard like he’d been sleeping; he’s wearing sweats and a cropped t-shirt, only glamoured enough that his wings aren’t visible, and Ifrit feels ravenous all of a sudden.

“My eyes are up here, firebird,” Swiss says, amused, a grin stretching across his lips when Ifrit’s eyes meet his instead of where they’d been glued to his feathery happy trail.

Ifrit’s mouth feels dry and there’s heat coursing through his veins, “I don’t have feathers,” he says, somewhat dumbly.

Swiss pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches a hand out towards Ifrit, “You don’t,” he agrees easily, beckoning him forward with a finger, “Come here and I’ll show you mine.”

A choked noise leaves Ifrit but he shuffles forward, letting himself come to a stop as his knees hit the foot of Swiss’s bed—not that he stays there for long, because Swiss is sitting up further, reaching out and fisting a hand in his shirt, dragging him up onto the bed with little to no preamble.

“Dew said you had a thing for newly summoned ghouls and that once they’re acclimated, you like to invite them to bed with you,” Swiss murmurs in the space between them—this close, Ifrit can make out the specks of white and gold in Swiss’s brown eye, like constellations. “Probably threw you off that I’ve already been up here, huh?”

“A little bit,” Ifrit agrees, his voice low as he plants a hand on the bed beside Swiss’s hip—he's so close to him, half leaning over him, “Doesn’t mean I’m any less interested though, if you’ll have me.”

Swiss grins up at him, “I let you in here, didn’t I?” he asks, rhetorical, “I hope my experience isn’t off putting,” he murmurs then, tilting his head a little bit, lower lip brushing the curve of Ifrit’s in the barest hint of a kiss, “I can pretend to not know what your intentions are, let you show me what it’s like if that’s a deal breaker.”

Ifrit snorts in amusement at Swiss’s words, though the idea is enticing in a way, he shakes his head and brushes their lips together, finally, properly. “We can compare notes,” he mumbles, “Can I see your feathers now?” he asks, ignoring the way his voice goes a bit airy towards the end, like he’s whining.

A hum and Swiss’s hand comes up to the back of Ifrit’s neck, finally drawing him into something more than just a brush of lips—he's a little rough with it, a little bit overeager in the same way that Ifrit feels; sharp teeth catch on his lower lip for a moment before Ifrit’s opening his mouth, Swiss’s scent spiking up sharply as their tongues brush.

The hand on the back of his neck squeezes and it draws a sharp moan from Ifrit, Swiss easily swallowing the noise as the kiss continues, as it deepens further—and it’s different, bedding a freshly summoned ghoul who knows what they’re doing, still smelling of brimstone and ozone, still so in tune with their own instincts without the interference of humanity.

The kiss breaks and Ifrit’s immediately assaulted with the feeling of Swiss’s mouth on his jaw, down his throat, teeth sharp and dangerous against the delicate skin—the rush of it all makes Ifrit lightheaded. Swiss could easily incapacitate him if he wanted to, and Ifrit wouldn’t even try to stop him.

“What are you thinking about?” Swiss mumbles, dragging the sharp point of his canine over where Ifrit’s pulse is beating heavily.

Ifrit swallows thickly, eyes fluttering closed as he tilts his head back, bares his throat more, revels in the low, approving purr that comes from Swiss, “Thinking about you biting me,” he answers easily, breath hitching when Swiss fits his teeth against his throat, just pressing them there. “Shit, yeah, just like that.” he says, feeling nearly faint.

There’s a rumble of a laugh and Swiss’s teeth press inward; the shock of pain draws a moan from Ifrit—he feels shaky and loose, grabs at Swiss’s shoulder with one hand to keep himself centered, “That’s it, pretty bird,” he slurs, shivers when Swiss pulls away and drags the flat of his tongue over the indentions left by his teeth. “Fuck.”

“Who knew all I needed to do was get you in my bed for you to actually be normal around me,” Swiss mumbles, amused, and then he’s nudging Ifrit back onto his knees properly, so Ifrit’s kneeling in front of him on the bed. “It was cute watching you try to be careful though, all while smelling like you wanted to jump me.”

Ifrit groans, brings both hands up to cover his face, “Can we not talk about that, I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks, his voice going whiny again, and Swiss takes pity on him, prying his hands away from his face to kiss him again.

Somehow, at some point, they end up horizontal on the bed, side by side for now, sharing kisses, open mouthed and messy—Ifrit’s fingers find the shock of lavender feathers above the waistband of Swiss’s sweats, and he whimpers into the kiss as he drags his knuckles over them, the soft and downy feeling making him feel as if he’s going to burst.

There’s a laugh, the sound pouring into his mouth right before Swiss pulls away from the kiss, pressing a closed mouth kiss against his lower lip, “You want to see more?” he asks softly, biting at his jaw again, “Wanna feel more?”

Ifrit whimpers again and lets Swiss shove a leg between his thigh, giving him something to grind the hard line of his cock against, “Please,” he mumbles, begs as his other hand claws at the waistband of Swiss’s pants, “Let me see.”

“You’re so hot when you’re like this,” Swiss says reverently, shifting forward to press Ifrit back into the bed, hovering over him, “Begging to get in my pants,” he coos, head tilted as he smiles down at Ifrit, “Never had some beg like this, for me,” he adds and then he’s pulling the cropped shirt off, tossing it aside, allowing Ifrit a moment to feel along the hard planes of his chest, his stomach, fingers immediately going back to his happy trail.

He laughs then, “Oh baby, I think you’ve got a thing for my feathers,” he says, sitting back properly so he can shove his sweatpants down—there's nothing under them and Ifrit’s mouth waters as more skin, more feathers are revealed; they’re a little darker the further down they go, a bit curled and damp with Swiss’s arousal.

Ifrit makes a punched-out sort of noise, hands grasping at Swiss’s hips in desperation—he wants to taste him, wants to get his mouth on Swiss’s cunt, bury himself there until he can’t breathe.

“Can’t say I’ve ever made anyone speechless,” Swiss jokes, shifting around atop Ifrit until he’s able to properly kick off his sweatpants, laughing again when he’s suddenly being pulled forward until his thighs are spread wide over the width of Ifrit’s chest. “See something you like?” he asks, humming a little when Ifrit digs his fingers into the meat of his lower back, a clear sign of restraint.

“These your feathers?” Ifrit asks, the words sticking heavily to his tongue as he lets go of Swiss’s hips and presses his thumbs into the patch of feathers framing his cunt, “You lure all the ghouls you sleep with into bed by flashing them?”

Swiss shudders above him and Ifrit can feel the way his muscles move just under his skin, how they jump at the touch, the feathers ruffling, “Nope,” he says, his voice surprisingly steady, “You’re the first I’ve met that’s wanted them out.”

Something about that makes something inside Ifrit preen, a first—and yeah, okay, he may like being the first at things sometimes, but even the knowledge that Swiss has slept with others in the past does nothing to quell his thoughts.

Ifrit takes a moment to peer up at Swiss, his thumbs still carefully massaging into the feathers—Swiss is watching him with heavy eyes, the black of his pupil thin slits among the color of his irises before they expand and Swiss blinks down at him slowly, rolls his hips forward, trying to encourage more.

Ifrit licks his lips and watches as Swiss’s eyes drop to his mouth, digging his knees into the bed for leverage as he rocks forward again, and Ifrit lets his thumbs inch closer to his core, where he can see the barest hint of dark pink nestled among the feathers.

He lets out a sound, something incredulous, pressing a thumb inward and feeling as if Swiss himself had taken the air from his lungs, wanting nothing more than to fit his mouth over that pink nub, drink from him until Swiss is shaking and begging for it.

When Swiss shifts his hips backwards, Ifrit curls his thumb into the soft, silky skin of his cunt, spreading his lips just enough to make his own want surge—he's so pink, he’s so pretty and Satan, he must say that out loud because Swiss makes a noise, jerks forward until Ifrit’s thumb slides right up into his clit, warm and wet and pulsing.

There’s a flush on Swiss’s cheeks, a constellation of dusky pink and gold, coloring down his throat, towards his chest, his mouth is open, he’s panting, grinding his hips forward in a tight circle, all but manipulating his clit against the pad of Ifrit’s thumb.

The color of his eyes swallowed up by the black of his pupils.

“Up here,” Ifrit manages to get out, grips at one of Swiss’s thighs while pressing his thumb harder against Swiss, “Up, sit on my face,” he gets out, letting loose a tortured noise when Swiss scrambles further up, thighs bracketing right around Ifrit’s head as he settles down there.

Swiss’s scent is thicker here, Ifrit’s nose pressed into the tuft of feathers right above his cunt—he takes a moment to breathe him in, grips both of Swiss’s thighs and pulls him down, and sure he’s eaten others out before, knows he’s got skills, an oral thing he’d been told by past partners, but he’s never had someone on his face with feathers.

It’s not much different to the coarse hair, the scales or the other ghoulish traits he’s had previous experience with, but it makes him feel heady in a way that he can’t describe, the gentle tickle of feathers against his cheeks as he nudges Swiss’s lips apart, licking into him eagerly.

Swiss’s hands immediately come to rest in his hair, one gripping the short strands tightly while the other cradles the side of his head; he’s moaning, a low and happy sort of thing as he grinds down onto Ifrit’s tongue, thighs spasming.

Ifrit makes a noise, shifts his head so his nose nudges against Swiss’s clit, licks deeper into him wondering if this will be the first time Swiss has gotten off since being summoned this time; it’s always easy and quick the first time, getting someone to the edge, that is. The rearranging of their genetic makeup to exist on the surface doing something to them.

It’s why he’s always keen to get a new summon in bed, to bring them to the edge over and over, a pleasant welcome to the surface.

He wiggles a hand in between their bodies for a moment, uses his thumb to hold Swiss open as he works his jaw, presses his tongue in as far as he can get it—in times like these, he wishes he were the type of fire ghoul who could lengthen his tongue, he’s not though, but he manages; using his grip on Swiss’s thigh to hold the ghoul down against him.

Swiss makes a noise in outrage, trying to break Ifrit’s hold on him, wanting to move, but Ifrit just holds him still, keeps him there as he takes his fill, and then he’s shifting his touch from holding Swiss open to drawing slow circles around his clit, his tongue doing something inside Swiss that has his thighs shaking around Ifrit’s head.

And Swiss comes, of course he does, he can’t help it—can't help the way he tightens his grip on Ifrit’s hair and tries to drag his face closer, closer, closer (even though he’s as close as he can be without being inside Swiss), Ifrit’s name falls from his lips as he pulses through his orgasm, gasping almost painfully as Ifrit keeps licking and licking and licking at him until he’s shaking, coming again so suddenly that he makes a wounded noise and tries to shove Ifrit’s head away.

Ifrit’s grip on his thigh loosens and Swiss shifts back and away from Ifrit, still shaking the slightest as he settles back onto the bed to catch his breath.

Ifrit is, of course, grinning this satisfied sort of thing, the lower part of his face a mess of slick; his eyes are glowing as he looks at Swiss—and he’s hard in his pants, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Swiss.

“Insatiable,” Is the first thing he’s able to say once he’s caught his breath, splay-legged and lying beside Ifrit, “Absolutely disgusting.”

Ifrit laughs at that and rolls onto his side, bullying his way close to Swiss, throwing an arm over his waist and nuzzling into his jaw, rubbing the scent of Swiss’s slick and Ifrit’s own pheromones into Swiss’s feathers, matting them down and making the two of them reek of each other. “Didn’t hear you complaining,” he murmurs, mouths at Swiss’s jaw for a moment before pulling back to look at him properly.

Swiss turns his head, peering up at Ifrit with his mismatched eyes; watching him for a long moment before he smiles, something small and secretive, “Sounds like you’re fishing for a compliment,” he says, and then he’s reaching up, cupping the back of Ifrit’s neck with one of his hands—big and warm against his already overheated skin, dragging him down into a kiss that tastes like the two of them.

Ifrit’s the one who separates them first, panting softly against Swiss’s mouth as he does it, “Not fishing,” he mumbles, presses another kiss to Swiss’s lips, “But I wouldn’t say no to a compliment if you have one.”

“Of course,” Swiss says with a laugh, scratching his nails through the short hairs at the base of Ifrit’s neck, “You do have quite the mouth on you,” he adds after a moment, leaning in and biting at Ifrit’s lower lip, leaving behind the barest hint of teeth marks.

A moan, low and pleased, both from the bite and the compliment, it’s praise to him, knowing he was able to satisfy Swiss with just his mouth does things to his brain, makes him feel a little floaty and happy, makes him want to do more and draw more praise from Swiss’s lips.

Content to lie there while Swiss comes down, he nearly forgets about his own need until he feels Swiss’s hand tug at the buttons on his pants, “If you’re the type to not need reciprocation, let me know now,” Swiss is mumbling, “But I really want to touch you, been thinking about getting my hand around this from the beginning.”

“Beginning?” Ifrit asks, shifting back so he can help Swiss get his pants undone and pushed down, “Shit, no, no, please, you can do whatever you want to my baby, I’m real easy.”

Swiss hums softly, pleased and happy as he gets Ifrit almost fully nude, “Shirt goes too,” he says, shifting to push Ifrit onto his back again, hands pushing the material up until Ifrit’s able to get it off, “And yes, the beginning. Do you think I just show my feathers to anyone?” he asks, incredulously before he’s climbing into Ifrit’s lap, settling across his thighs. “You really are out of practice with how air ghouls show they’re interested, huh?”

Ifrit feels a bit dumb as Swiss settles his weight down on him, he can feel the heat coming from Swiss’s cunt again, hovering so precariously close where he’s hard and curled up against his belly, “Oh,” he says, and then he laughs about it, because he can’t believe he’d been blind to it, the first flash of lavender, the suggestive tilt of his mouth, “Now I feel a bit silly,” he manages to say as his hands go to cradle Swiss’s hips.

There’s a sly sort of grin on Swiss’s mouth, the corners curling upwards, the points of his teeth pressing into his lower lip as he presses his knees into the bed for leverage, moving from his perch on Ifrit’s thighs, “You are kind of dumb,” Swiss says as he settles his weight on Ifrit’s lower belly, cunt right over his cock, “But in that really endearing way. Chivalrous and concerned about my wellbeing all while denying yourself something you really wanted.”

Ifrit gasps at the sudden weight on his belly, at Swiss’s heat right where he’s hard and sensitive, “Oh Satan,” he says, digging his fingertips into Swiss’s hips, “Yeah, fuck, baby, I’ll be as dumb as you want me to be if you keep doing what you’re about to do.”

Swiss laughs at him, leaning down to kiss him quiet as he rocks his hips, slow and steady, reaching down between them long enough to spread himself, choking back his own moan when Ifrit’s cock slips right between his folds, hot and hard and right against his clit with each thrust forward.

At some point, Ifrit pulls away from the kiss, tossing his head back as he holds Swiss down against him, digging his heels into the bed and letting himself get lost in the slick heat he’s grinding against—he almost misses it, when Swiss shifts a little bit more, bends over him properly and right against his ear, murmurs, “Wanna put it in me?”

Ifrit moans, loud and unbidden, hips stuttering a bit as he tries not to come, he’s nodding trying to tug Swiss onto his cock, feels it slip down just a bit, nudging against where Swiss is wet and open and warm, and he makes a sort of pained noise when Swiss lifts up so suddenly and they’re not touching anymore.

“Just the tip,” Swiss says, firm, there’s a teasing grin on his face as he says it, hovering over Ifrit, “Do you think you can do that? Only the tip baby, don’t think I can take the whole thing yet,” he lowers his voice, pitches it in a way that ties knots in Ifrit’s stomach. “S’my first time, after all.”

He nods, several times, mouth open in shock—it's not Swiss’s first time, something that he’d made very clear from the beginning, but hell the implications of it, the way Swiss plays into it has Ifrit all frazzled, “Baby,” he says, managing to find his words after a moment, “I’ll take such good care of you. Let you control what you take, how much.”

Swiss makes a happy little trill in the back of his throat, settles back down over Ifrit’s cock, rocks his hips in slow circles for a few moments, “You’ll have to teach me how to take all of you,” he murmurs, still in that faux innocent tone, and this time, when he lifts up, it’s so he can reach down between them, “’m so wet, I can take you without any prep,” he continues, wrapping a hand around Ifrit’s cock with one hand and Ifrit has to watch, eyes trained on the feathers, on the part of his cunt, the dusky pink of his hole as he shifts back on his heels, guiding Ifrit’s cock into him.

Ifrit’s sure he passes out, his grip on Swiss’s hips so tight he’s pretty sure there’ll be bruises there, indents of his fingertips left behind, he’s only coherent enough to not let his claws pop, though he’s sure Swiss would have no problem with that—Swiss's cunt is so tight, so warm, squeezing around him like he’s trying to milk him, like he wants more.

“Oh,” Swiss says, high and breathless, stills and just lets Ifrit stay inside, “You feel so good,” he praises, “So big, s’not that much in me but I can feel you stretching me, gonna take a lot of practice to get you all the way in here.”

Ifrit finds himself purring, something he doesn’t do often, but the rumble starts low in his chest as he slowly but surely loosens his grip on Swiss’s hips, instead, running his palms up Swiss’s sides, “We’ve got time, baby,” he says, hoping his voice is steady, “Can take as long as we need. Can do it as many times as you want. Could spend hours stretching you out for me.”

Swiss smiles down at him, shifts his hips a little bit after another few minutes, clenching around the tip before he grinds backwards, fucking himself on just a couple inches of Ifrit’s cock, moaning low and happily in his throat as he does, “You feel so good,” he finds himself repeating as Ifrit drags him down into a kiss.

They kiss for a while, open mouthed and panting as Swiss works himself on Ifrit, almost as if he were trying to chase his own orgasm and not worry about Ifrit’s--and well, that thought does a lot more to him that he realizes, hazy and hot and cunt drunk as he is.

It’s why when he feels himself nearing the edge, he’s barely able to get out a warning, the slide of Swiss’s cunt against his cock and then the way he sinks the tip into him every few thrusts—he doesn’t know the proper thing to do here, if he should make an effort to not come inside Swiss or if he should—how far does showing ones feathers go when it comes to sex?

He’s thinking, probably way too much about this, so when Swiss sinks down onto the tip of his cock one more time, he’s surprised when Swiss just stays there, his own answering purrs much lower than Ifrit’s rumbling deep in his chest, he grinds a little, another inch slips into him and Swiss clenches around him so suddenly it draws his orgasm out of him with very little warning.

Ifrit grasps at Swiss, only at the last second not pulling him down any further, so instead he curls his upper body upwards, pressing his face into Swiss’s heaving chest, shaking under him as he empties inside Swiss—all the while Swiss is milking him again, clenching rhythmically around him until Ifrit’s making soft little uh, uh, uh noises against Swiss’s skin, shivering at how it starts to tip over into the too much territory.

When he slips out of Swiss, spent and softening, Ifrit barely thinks as he grabs at Swiss’s thighs and hauls him upwards, mouth open, tongue out, hoping to catch the leak of his own come out of Swiss’s cunt before any of it gets on the sheets under them.

Swiss has a hand in his hair again and this time, Ifrit lets Swiss fuck down onto his face, riding his tongue, letting Ifrit lick his own come out of him until he’s arching, his own hand coming down to rub at his clit only a few times before he’s spasming around Ifrit’s tongue, coming in such an explosive manner than Ifrit’s sure he’s going to be tasting him for days now.

Which, good.

Good.

Swiss slips off of him this time, curling on his side and pressing his face into the side of Ifrit’s neck, panting heavily as he does so—Ifrit wraps an arm around Swiss and holds him close, holding him through the aftershocks and murmuring softly into his temple.

When Swiss is only mildly coherent, he lifts his head enough to share a kiss, moans at the taste of himself and Ifrit on the fire ghoul’s tongue, before he pulls away and hides away in Ifrit’s neck again—and while Ifrit wants to ask him if it was good again, the tease on the tip of his tongue, he holds back.

He waits, patiently.

“Disgusting,” Swiss mumbles into Ifrit’s neck this time, slurring just a little, “Absolutely filthy, disgusting ghoul. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Ifrit laughs at his words, can hear the undercurrent of humor, the hint of awe—it's a compliment and he takes it as one, rolling them until he can properly cuddle Swiss, letting his warmth seep into Swiss’s skin as the cold chill of the room starts to settle over them now that they’re basking.

“That tongue thing you do should be illegal,” Swiss mumbles with a shake of his head. “I’m fucking inconsolable, right now.”

Ifrit glances down at the top of Swiss’s head, quirks an eyebrow, “You okay?” he asks, a little hesitant, but mostly amused.

When Swiss lifts his head, he looks exasperated, a little hazy eyed, sated, “You fuck, I want to go again,” he says, “I’m so fucking sloppy right now but I just want more.”

That draws another laugh out of Ifrit, surprised and pleased that he’s good and makes Swiss feel insatiable, “Well, if you’re done being in charge, maybe let me take care of you this time?” he asks, rolling Swiss onto his back, looming over him with a glint in his eyes, “Let me make you feel good.”

Swiss covers his eyes with his forearm, lets Ifrit bully his way between his legs properly until he’s got one of them up over Ifrit’s shoulder his cunt spread and exposed—but he’s grinning, biting his lower lip, “Fuck, yeah, yeah, okay, do your worst. Make me feel good, firebird.”

Ifrit makes good on his word, keeps Swiss in bed for the rest of the day, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of him until they’re both too tired to continue.

#Swiss/Ifrit #the band ghost fic #my writing #this goes about as you'd expect a swiss centered fic by me to be written #please enjoy!

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