#transgender reader

[donutz]

Sebastian Solace accidently meeting reader

Sebastian was looking for items resulted in seeing you

— Sebastian actually doesn't do that, he just comes across them and uses it for sales

Warnings: Non human reader; Reader is 11'4, taller than Sebastian!!; Reader has a small tail, that's hidden under there clothes; Reader isn't naked, you have clothes on yay!!; You have 4 extra eyes from being mixed with a spider; Bad words, again

Here's a body reference I drew, with a mouse!! ^_^ It's not that good but i tried my best ,^^ the tiny text says spider

“Ugh, these doors are so small”.. You thought.

You had to crouch through them, every. Single. Time. Why not bust out of a window? You looked at the wide glass to your left, thinking. Yeah why not.

Jumping through it, you realized that those were really weak windows. They might as well have been just the wall if they were really that weak! You would think that they were tempered at least.

You swim and swim, occasionally stopping to peer into the rooms. Sometimes you’d even knock on the windows to look at the squiddles. The other monsters never appeared, but those ones did.

After passing through many walls and windows, you look into another room. Seeing a tall humanoid like creature just sliding through.

Wait what.

You do a double take, not expecting another one to look like you.

Slightly swaying your legs, you move towards the glass. Putting your hands on it. You can only see the backside of him, looking him up and down. Just out of interest and curiosity.

He stops searching through the drawers and turns to his side, not seeing you. He moves to the next room, and you move right with him. It seems like he’s looking for items.

He looks at the window anddd.. Flinches back, with his palm facing you right in front of his chest. You hear his mumbled yell through the glass.

You wave.

As if you didn’t just startle him.

Smiling really wide, just no teeth showing, your small tail wagging.

You hear him curse. Uhm.. You move to the side and break the window with your fist,

“Oops” You say after putting your head through the hole.

Turning your head, you were going to say hello, but he was gone! You break through the window using your whole body, and fix it up with your… Powers!

“Come back”! You shout, crawling through the doors, each time you did, you saw him.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME”!!

That wasn’t a very good first meeting, but it happened again. You saw him again. And again. And again. You know the drill by now yeah?

By the fourth time, he wasn’t phased.

Sigh, “Are you trying to get on my nerves or something”?

“How? I just want to see you”!

His face scrunches in confusion, “What”.

“I said I just wanted to see you! You’re only making yourself more mad with that temper of yours”.

His face fell monotone, ignoring you as he slithered through the doors.

You followed right behind him, or next to him. He didn’t want you behind him just in case you decided to do something dirty.

You observe him everytime he searches through the drawers, checks under them, and looks through the lockers.

While he was searching through a drawer, you asked a question.

“Why do you search for the items ‘n stuff”?

He closes the drawer, standing up. He turns around to face you.

“Why are you still here with me”?

“You didn’t answer my question”.

“You didn’t answer mine”.

You giggle, “You’re funny, Sebastian”.

He looks surprised that you even know his name, clenching his fists he yells out—

“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME”?!

Now it’s your turn to look surprised. 

“From a certain shark”.

He scowls, ‘Dang it Eyefestation’.

“Anywho now that I answered yours, you answer mine”.

“You still didn’t answer my other question”.

“Then let’s take turns”.

You two stared at each other. Each stares having different meaning.

One with danger, confusion, and a small chance of fear.

The other with interest and sincerity.

One not being able to tell if it’s a mask.

The other being able to tell that One is scared.

“... Fine. It’s for my shop that I hold for the other players. Now what about you? Why are you still here with me”?

“Well it’s because I find you quite interesting really. I haven’t seen any other creature—”

‘Creature’?

“— Like you. You seem kinda on edge and I want to get to know you. Personally, I think you have a very kind heart”.

‘Kind heart? What the hell are you even saying’..

Your smile stays on your face, not once lingering. Your left hand gently grips your right wrist while both arms are behind your back. You sway side to side.

“Is your question answered Sebastian”?

“Don’t call me that”.

“Then what should I call you”?

“... Solace. Call me Solace”.

“Oh that’s a nice name. It kind of matches with your icy nature”.

Ughh. He verbally groaned. He slithered over to the next door, going through it, with you of course, following behind him.

Going through a few more doors, you ask—

“Can I see your shop”?

“Yeah fine, whatever. There’s no point since you probably don’t have any data anyways”.

“You use data as a currency? For what”?

“You ask—... Nevermind, yeah, I do. It’s so I could blackmail Urbanshade”.

He halfway turns his head to look at you, stopping.

“You’re not going to use that against me, a- are you”?

‘Shit’.

Your smile falters, realizing that he’s serious. And afraid.

“Of course not! I don’t even know what that is anyways”. You smile.

His mouth slightly opens, surprised.

“You- You’re not one of their experiments”?

“No! I was born like this! My parents were the experiments, but then I escaped”.

Sebastian didn’t say anything. How could you say that so— so happily?! A- And right in front of him too! You two just met h- how could—... How could you trust him so EASILY?!

After a bit of silence, you moved on.

“Anywayss!! I wanna see your shop! Show me”!

You walk ahead, leaving Sebastian standing there by himself baffled. Before he shakes his head and continues to move.

Eventually you two find his shop and you chill.

You see his documents on the table and question him, asking who’s documents are those. He tells you that they’re his.

“Can I buy em”?

“You got 1000 data”?

“I got my backstory”!

“... Sorry, data’s the only currency”.

“Oh man :(”

I read all of this and this seems like a quick read :(

[urween]

Bloody Lamb | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: Bucky would never have imagined that his neighbor was carrying a heavy load on his shoulders. However, he discovers scars on the latter, and thus his vision changes radically.

notes: the temporality is located in a mix of beginning and end of FATWS series; reader operated on the torso

⚠︎ warnings: strong mention/description of mutilation and scars, mention of dysphoria, traumas linked to Hydra

special thanks and credits to @sparrow-the-tired-lesbian who nicely helped me with this story's translation because it was originally written in french, my native language.

french version here

- 1 804 words - 2nd person description

You were just next-door neighbors. He knew you by sight, knew how to define your silhouette and your height, as he could do with his other neighbors. Maybe he also recognized your voice when it echoed in the common corridor, like when Mrs. Jones shouted at her cats running away on the landing. He knew you without knowing you, that fine line that separated so many things and that was not held by anything. Maybe an insistent look from you would turn the weather vane, maybe not. But he knew all his neighbors because whether he wanted to or not he retained the information that emerged from individuals. A soldier had to be able to identify his victims in a crowd. He kept marks, more or less deep cracks that interfered with his daily life. If he hadn’t been the Winter Soldier, surely his mind would never have noticed Mrs. Jones’ slight limp, the smell that came out of Larry’s every Tuesday night, or the particular timbre of your voice. But he did it with everyone, you weren’t special. It would have been special if he could recognize the shoes you wore based on the wet marks left on your soles, the habit you had of always putting your cell phone in your left pocket, or the song you’d been listening to on repeat for the past few days. Then, you would have been special. More than a neighbor on the landing, you could have been his little obsession, the main object of a tease from his friend Sam for example. But that wasn’t the case until now.

“I’m lucky to have you,” the old man murmured.

Yori Nakajima was the neighbor you got along with best. Funny, sweet, and welcoming, you immediately felt at ease with him. Brooklyn was a big city and you had only been here for a short time, so Yori had helped you get familiar with the surroundings. In exchange, you would go see him once or twice a week. You talked most of the time, he would tell you about his youth and the kindness of his late son, and sometimes he would even teach you how to play Go.

"You have more and more fans," you smiled, pointing to a bouquet in the corner of the living room.

As he had done with you, Nakajima often helped young people who were a little lost. He gave them the support they needed so that they could then explore the city on their own. Over the years, he ended up having a small reputation in the neighborhood, and many of his old friends still came to visit him.

"These are irises, my favorite," he explained to you, "a neighbor brought me some this morning."

You leaned over to the coffee table to pour yourself some more tea. The wafting scent of the flowers reached you as you let your back rest against the back of the chair again.

"I thought you had a girlfriend."

Yori chuckled as much as his great age allowed him, nodding to thank you for the tea.

"I'm quite alone, and you and the others keep me company," he confided to you before changing the subject, "but I had an idea about that."

You saw the question coming before the old man could even open his mouth again.

"No, no lovers for me Yori, I already told you," you sighed with a smile.

"You're going off on a tangent right away, who told you I was going to talk about love?” He explained to get your attention again, “I simply think it would be good for you to make friends, and the young man I'm talking about would be a great match for you."

He had been trying for two or three weeks to get you to meet new people because according to him you were too lonely. However, you had explained to him the reasons for this social distancing, he had understood, while suffering too. But he said that time always healed wounds and smoothed out the deep cracks, that you had to open yourself up to life to enjoy it. You understood that, really, but the stability you had finally managed to find couldn't be destroyed, you didn't want to have to rebuild everything.

“You two look a lot alike,” Yori’s wise voice echoed one last time, “hiding in your burrows.”

They weren't fluorescent, or noisy. They didn't attract attention, going unnoticed. Yet one glance at them and the decibels in the room exploded for you. In the past, you would never have imagined that scars could be so talkative. But they were, they proudly recounted their heavy sorrows to remind you that nothing was ever acquired. Everything could disappear overnight, everything could collapse in a fraction of a second. One wrong step, and you would fall back. The wrong person and all your efforts would be reduced to nothing. Living alone wasn't easy every day, but this way you avoided mistakes. No one could predict the reaction of a stranger, while yours was controllable. You knew what not to do, not to mention, the others didn't know it and by the time they understood it could already be too late.

Yori knew about your operation, he knew that you had two beautiful scars on your chest, but it had taken time. It had taken you time. The old man didn't know more, he guessed the darkness that you kept to yourself but he knew someone else in your case, and talking about it didn't always help. Other people knew about your trans identity, you couldn't hide it and you didn't want to anyway. But it remained there, no one went beyond that barrier.

It had also taken you time to let your other scars out in the open. But you quickly realized that no one noticed them. They weren't fluorescent or noisy to them. Hidden on your thighs, dull enough that a curious eye would simply think they were stretch marks. Who would have paid attention? For this reason, you could once again appreciate any clothing revealing these marks. You could wear a simple t-shirt or sweatshirt as pajamas with boxers, and take out the trash in this outfit. You rarely ran into anyone, and even if you did, they didn't pay attention.

However, you didn't expect to come face-to-face with your neighbor on the landing. A man – quite attractive, it had to be admitted – about your age who had a mysterious aura around him since you arrived, as well as gloves. You suspected Yori of wanting to set you up with him, that it was the famous "young man with irises". He came to see your friend very often, you had even crossed paths with them at the bar downstairs from your place the other day. Barnes, that was his name, you had read it on the mailbox next to yours. You didn't know anything more about him and it had never bothered you.

"Good evening,” your neighbor's grainy voice echoed.

You smiled at him, murmuring a polite formula in return, as the rules of society required. With your trash bag in hand, you opened the brown storage lid before throwing your waste in. You didn't expect anything else, there was nothing more to expect, you didn't know each other. So you turned around, smiling at him kindly before closing the exterior door of the building.

But he didn't move, his eyes fixed on the void that a few seconds before had been filled by your thighs. You had scars.

Overnight, you became special. He recognized your footprints, your habits, and your songs. His ears picked up without his consent the slightest noises that passed through the barrier of the walls separating you.

Bucky had seen many scars, first as an American soldier, then as the Winter Soldier. The memories had taken time to come back but those linked to Hydra had never left. Eyelids closed, he still saw those distorted smiles, those pulsing veins. He still saw all those innocents repatriated to these basements as he had been, he saw them gradually lose hope. He still saw the last traces of life leave their lively eyes, he still heard their screams. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself again lying on the camp bed that had been assigned to him. He could imagine again the thoughts that crossed his mind, the last ones seeming to belong to him. I hope they die, he said to himself at the time, regarding his future peers, I hope they never see what I see. Death was a beautiful escape from the prisons of Hydra. If he could have, he would have succumbed to it, but he had been too precious.

He had seen many scars, but never like yours. A torn face, a leg in pieces, or a dog bite were endured, not chosen.

The metal weapon that served as his arm had not been chosen by him at the start. The red star that had adorned it had been imposed on him. The arm he wore today had been chosen by him, but the wound that caused it was nothing but torture. Whether it was an accident or a voluntary act, scars had never been anything but torture in his eyes. Why inflict them on ourselves? Why cut our flesh with our own hands?

They were dull, almost completely blending into your skin, but he had seen them. They had jumped out at him.

He wasn't a nurse, much less a doctor, but he knew how to recognize these kinds of things. It wasn't a cat or some accident that had caused these marks, it was you alone. The place, the depth, the angle. It was mutilation, and he had strangely never seen that.

By dint of seeing only horrors, deaths, attacks, and more, Bucky ended up forgetting the others. Those who suffered without showing it, who cried in silence. Not everyone had an arm missing or purple skin to show their misfortunes. He had the example of Yori, but he had never noticed that in you. Unconsciously, he liked imagining a happy being living next to him, maybe you could have contaminated him? But he forgot that even the gentlest of lambs had suffered.

He wanted to get to know you, he needed to know you

images : Pinterest

dividers : @/thecutestgrotto, @/strangergraphics and @/pommecita

[superbatsbison]

Bruce dating trans man Reader

You guys met early in your transition.

You were hesitant to go out with him because you didn't know how he'd react.

Baby, he already knew before he decided to pursue you.

Bruce would constantly reassure you that he was dating you man to man.

Before he ever touched you somewhere or called you a term of endearment, he'd ask if it was okay.

He made sure to always respect your boundaries and give you what you needed.

When it was time to meet Alfred, you were scared of what he would think.

He was older and Bruce's father figure, so you imagined a lot of bad outcomes.

However, he just smiled and assured you that he had met many trans people over his lifetime.

And he has a fruit cup of a son *points in Bruces direction* so the whole lgbt thing isn't exactly new.

Over the years, your relationship progressed, and you also progressed in your transition.

You made the decision to start testosterone and get top surgery.

Bruce made sure you had the best doctors and surgeons in the world (literally) at your disposal.

As your voice got deeper, he'd be sure to praise the beautiful sound.

His favorite thing would be making you moan low in his ear.

He loved how sensitive you got as a result of testosterone and bottom growth.

Needless to say, he kept you in the bedroom whenever he could.

Other than railing you into the mattress, though 🤚🏼

He also likes to help you in other ways.

You two would often train together down in the cave.

It's an outlet to deal with the effects of testosterone and also helps you bulk up.

Bruce mainly likes the view of his sweaty boyfriend in a tank top and shorts.

Another favorite activity of his is going shopping with you for events.

He insists you both can't wear the same suit twice, but really, he just likes to watch you try them on and get fitted.

God forbid you wear a button up with the sleeves rolled to your elbow because you WILL get mauled by that 6'2 behemoth. 🙏🏼

Speaking of galas, though, Bruce is always acting like your glorified guard dog at said events.

They're mostly populated with old rich people, so you're bound to get a snarky comment from time to time.

Either about you being trans or you and Bruce being a gay couple.

It doesn't really bother you anymore because you're very self-confident.

Bruce is next to you vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass, though.

He makes sure they're near tears by the time he's done chewing them out.

Then, they're permanently blacklisted from every upper echelon event in Gotham.

It only gets worse when the kids start coming along.

Soon, your lone guard dog turns into an entire pack.

The kids didn't need much explaining on the matter.

Except maybe Cass and Damian.

After they got the basics down, though, they were fully supportive.

You're their dad. You've given them unconditional love and support.

Obviously, they'll do the same.

It makes you very emotional to look at the family you've created.

In your early twenties you felt so alone and aimless.

Unsure if you would ever even live the life you wanted.

But now you have a loving husband and amazing children.

All while being the man you were always meant to be.

[thesevro]

[nanami kento] a man of yours, tonight

[Nanami Kento x FTM/Transgender Male Reader Smut] CW: Contains scenes of explicit sex below the cut

Walang plot for real

He has noticed your shy smiles, the exuberance in that glint in your eyes every time he gives voice to the praise you deserve. He'll give it to you no matter the time, the place, or the hour.

—

He has noticed your shy smiles, the exuberance in that glint in your eyes every time he gives voice to the praise you deserve. That color makes you bloom, he said as you headed out the door to start the car. Hmm, new shampoo today? Your hair smells wonderful, he murmured into your ear as you scooped him into your arms to settle in for bed. You’re always using that brain of yours, hm? He told you as you settled the accounts for Jujutsu Tech on a whim, manipulating the arithmetic and algebraic behind accounting with ease. 

Now he moans your name in pleasure, his heartbeat speeding up to match the symphony of your own. Your legs have locked around him. Every time he feels your thighs around his waist and your limbs wrapping around him his brain explodes with pleasure and a delicious throb courses through him. He is yours; you own him, and you are his to breed.

“Kento,” you groan deeply, head twisting to the side as his fingers reach between your thighs to finger the tip of your little cocklet. “Please—wait.”

“No, no, love.” He slides his middle finger up the sensitive tip of your bulging clitoris, shuddering through a breath as you clench tight around him. “Keep using that handsome voice of yours. Make sure everyone hears how good I fuck my beautiful husband.”

Your head tilts up to force a kiss to his lips. Your tongue slides against his. He knows all your tactics, all the ways you try to stop him from saying all the things you like only because you’re too shy to hear them. He parts his lips from yours to suckle kisses along your jaw, gentle enough to leave no bruises but with enough insistence to have you shivering with delight. His cock stretches you inside as he thrusts. 

For a time, he had been shy himself. Making love to you for the first and every time blew his mind, though the words of praise he wished to share with you would catch in his throat. It was when you had made love to him, moaning words of sweetness into his ear with you between his legs that cracked him. He will always remember every second of those moments: the skillful shift of your hips to angle into his sensitive, neglected prostate, the pleasured shudder of your musculature even as he knew your pleasure was derived only by the sight of your sex meeting his. After, though spent and panting from three drawn-out orgasms, he had wrestled you into bed to slip his face between your legs and drag his tongue along your slit. You had already removed the prosthetic and had drawn a bath for the two of you, but he would not heed your call for a bath and simply moved his tongue around your still-hard cocklet. He remembers the way you fought till the end, telling him to leave it be, that you could take care of it yourself, until your body had sagged with each expert movement of his desperate tongue and your wetness gushed from your hole to spill into his starved mouth. He remembers licking into you, past your overstimulation with you clawing at his shoulders, until he’d broken you into giving him a second, your moans deep and borderline exhausted.

“Kento,” you cry now, voice high-pitched. Ah, you’re close. This sensitive cocklet of yours… how he loves it. 

“Mm, let it out, lovely.” 

Cum on my cock, show me what it feels like. Give me your pleasure. Perhaps, one day, he will hear you say these things with your own length pumping inside him.

Your body twists as he draws an orgasm from you. “That’s it,” he moans, his thrusts slowing, deepening as his cock pulses with his own need. “Good boy. Good boy.”

Though his pace has slowed, he falls over the brink easily. His body loosens and he hunches over you to cradle you in his arms as his cock throbs to fill you up with his cum. He groans into your neck, unabashed, holding you close while your lips kiss his ear to tiredly murmur your own praise. 

“Fill me up Kento,” you groan. “Fill me up.”

After, though spent, he draws a bath. He grabs the two towels designated solely for cleaning the both of you up after sex and returns to the bedroom to wipe bewteen your legs, as you have done so many times for him. You give a squeeze to his hand and murmur your thanks. 

“Of course,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ve always got you.”

[thelittleangel]

how they would react to you coming out as trans (ftm)

warnings: mentions of transphobia, and misgendering.

tags: physical affection, coming out, trans reader, male reader, can be read as romantic or platonic.

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Shane Walsh, Negan, Dale Cooper

Fandoms: supernatural, the walking dead, twin peaks.

authors note: if you like this one, I can write an MtF version.

Sam Winchester

trans ally Sam my beloved.

he probably already had a feeling.

he would see every time you would readjust the way you were sitting, or every time you would cross your arms over your chest.

he sees every time you stare into the mirror, wondering who the person looking back is.

so, yeah, he had a feeling.

he sits quietly with you while you say what you need to.

he wraps you in the tightest hug you've ever had.

immediate he/him, your chosen name, everything.

he takes you to every appointment and he's always waiting outside, or in the room with you.

he holds a party for every milestone

Dean Winchester

you're in the library, doing research.

he sits across from you drinking a beer, looking at something on the laptop.

"Dean I have something to tell you."

he looks up from what he's doing.

as you begin to tell him, he shuts the laptop.

Direct eyes contact the entire time.

"It ain't the weirdest thing I've seen."

he takes you out and gets you a more masculine wardrobe, if that's what you want.

he wants to be more respectful of what you want.

his father forced him to be a very macho type of person, and he doesn't want you to feel like you have to be this ultra masculine type of person.

Castiel

He knows what being trans is.

When you tell him, he stays quiet. he listens to what you have to say because he knows how important this is to you.

he keeps a mental record of your name, pronouns, what triggers your dysphoria, what makes you feel less dysphoric, and things of that nature.

Whenever you feel dysphoric, he gives you his trench coat to wrap up in.

Rick Grimes

you're going to have to explain it to him.

once he understands, he's like

oh

okay

if you wear a binder, he makes sure you don't wear it for longer that 8 hours.

he makes sure to use the right pronouns and the right name.

he tries to make sure that the others do too.

Daryl Dixon

"Wha'?"

once you explain it to him, it's all good.

he's so worried about messing up as far as pronouns or your name.

"You jus' tell me when I mess up, alrigh'?"

he keeps track of how long you've had your binder on and lets you know when it's time.

he goes on runs to make sure you have testosterone. he also makes sure that any of the needles and syringes are safe and clean to use.

Shane Walsh

he doesn't understand at first.

you're gonna have to explain it a few times.

"She goes by He/Him."

he makes sure you're not wearing your for more than eight hours, that you're taking your meds and generally taking care of yourself.

he will go on runs with you to get testosterone.

he tries his best to understand.

Negan

I am a firm believer in ally Negan.

he understands what being trans is.

it's an immediate switch.

he gets the pronouns and name right first try.

he gets the saviors to get you testosterone.

he makes sure you only wear your binder for eight hours and not a second more, especially in the summer.

he finds a doctor to get you top surgery if you want to do that.

Dale Cooper

the most ally to ever ally

probably the most supportive character in this entire list.

instant he/him

goes with you to pride parades

celebrates all the anniversaries with you

goes with you to all the appointments.

stays with you when you recover from surgery.

stays with you when you are feeling especially dysphoric.

[perotovar]

cold - a secret santa fic

pairing: jack daniels x trans man!reader (feat. dieter bravo... sort of) rating: G word count: 1.1k content: fluff, sick!fic, reader is a trans man and uses he/him pronouns, jack being a pathetic lil baby, petnames (this is jack, guys), seriously this is adorable y'all dividers: by @/saradika-graphics beta: @kedsandtubesocks (ily ♥)

a/n: written as a part of @dieterbravobrainrotclub 's secret santa event. happy holidays, alastor @crowandmousewritingco ♥ i hope you like it! this was my first time writing an "x reader" fic so i hope i did alright!

You’ve been dating Jack for a while now. You met each other at a gay bar in downtown Lexington about a year ago and got on like a house on fire, as Jack liked to put it. This was probably one of, if not the best relationship you’d ever been in.

Jack was always so supportive whenever your dysphoria would act up and do a really good job of distracting you. He’d either make you a meal – You’ll love this one, honeypie, it’s one of Mama Daniels’ specials! – cuddle you while you watched your favorite movies, or make you come so many times you wouldn’t even remember why you were upset in the first place.

You tried to return the favor when you could, but it always seemed like Jack was made of stone. He was so strong and brave, it was like nothing affected him. 

That was, until he came down with the flu. 

He was downright pathetic. 

Jack would get loopy and delusional whenever he was sick, the fog stuffing up his sinuses overtaking all logic and reason. He also constantly sniffled when you told him the best way to get rid of things was to blow his nose. “B-but honeypie, it feels so gross,” he’d pout. 

“Do you want to feel gross for longer?” You’d smile back, bringing him another box of tissues.

“...No.”

“Then blow your nose, ya big baby.”

That’s why you find yourself at the nearby grocery store picking up some cough syrup and even more tissue boxes. Your phone buzzes in your pocket with a text, and you roll your eyes as you open it, chuckling to yourself. What did he want now?

don’t forget ice cream please ? 😣

Lol ok, baby 😂

ily 🥹

You snorted to yourself and made your way to the ice cream aisle. You knew which flavor Jack would want – Southern Butter Pecan, of course – so it didn’t take you very long to get what you were looking for.

You were stopped in your tracks when you felt a slight tug on your sleeve. You flinched and turned to look at who’d done that, but stopped when you saw that it was an older woman. She looked to be in her sixties, so you steeled yourself for some sort of harsh comment. You got those from time to time, so you knew how to handle yourself well enough, but Jack was always better at diffusing problems than you were.

“Excuse me, young man?” The woman asked, a small smile on her face. “Do you think you could hand me one of those? My back won’t let me bend over like that these days.”

Blinking, you nodded jerkily before gingerly placing the tub of ice cream into her wrinkled hands. 

“Thank you, honey. You have a good day now!”

“You, too,” you smiled softly, watching her walk away for a moment. You huffed a laugh in disbelief and quickly finished up your shopping.

You had to tell Jack what happened.

As soon as you walked through the threshold of your shared apartment, one of Jack’s sneezes permeated the air. You chuckled to yourself and set the groceries on the counter. 

“Jack?” You called. “Do you want the ice cream now or later?”

A loud cough before, “Now, please!”

Grabbing a spoon, you smiled as you made your way down the hall and into your bedroom.

And there he was; your pathetic, grumbly, sniffly man. “Hey, handsome,” Jack smiled sleepily. Even like this, he couldn’t stop himself from flirting with you. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed. You placed the ice cream and the spoon into Jack’s clammy hands before leaning over to place a kiss on his warm forehead.

“You’re the best, honeypie. I’d kiss ya, but I don’t wanna get’cha sick,” he pouted.

“I appreciate that,” you chuckled. “You up for a movie?”

Jack moaned around a bite of ice cream, licking around the spoon in a way that really shouldn’t be affecting you, but it is. “Yeah, why not. Speakin’ of! Think I’m finally startin’ to look like that actor o’yours,” he smirked, showing off his newly grown-in facial hair around his jaw.

See, because Jack has been bedridden the past few days, he hasn’t had a chance to keep up on his strict grooming routine. The extra facial hair around his chin and jaw suits him super well, but he didn’t really look like Dieter Bravo, in your opinion. Jack was too put-together, even while sick, and Dieter had that raccoon aesthetic down to a T. 

“Uh huh,” you snorted. “Sure, babe.”

Jack scoffed in mock offense, sniffled, then promptly coughed into his pillow. “Ugh,” he groaned pathetically. “Maybe no movie,” he pouted.

You smiled sympathetically before nodding in understanding. Dieter Bravo would have to wait. But you’ll be back.

“That’s okay, baby. Here. I got you some more tissues. I’ll put the ice cream away,” you said softly, tucking him into the bed after you took the ice cream from him. 

“I love you, honeypie. I don’t deserve ya.”

“Oh, hush, you. Sure you do.” As you turned to leave, Jack stopped you, one of his larger hands engulfing yours. He rubbed your knuckles with his thumb tenderly and smiled up at you with glossy eyes.

“I mean it, handsome. I really appreciate ya takin’ care o’me like this. I know I can be a handful at times,” he bit his lip. You didn’t argue. He lifted your hand and kissed the back because Jack was nothing if not a southern gentleman, no matter what state he was in.

“Of course, Jack. I know you’d do the same for me,” you said easily. Jack nodded. It went without saying, but you heard it anyway. Without a doubt, honeypie.

You gave him one more kiss on the forehead before turning away. You stopped in the doorway when you remembered something. “Oh, guess what happened at the grocery store?” You grinned excitedly.

“What’s that, baby?”

“I helped an old lady get some ice cream. She called me ‘young man’.”

Jack’s face lit up. He’d been with you since the start of your transition so he knew how much that meant to you. “Baby! That’s amazin’!”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “Just had to tell you. I’ll go get those tissues, okay?”

Jack nodded, one of the most lovesick looks on his face. He loved you so much and you loved him in turn. 

You’d take care of him when he was sick for as long as possible if it meant seeing that face more often.

[hollowtakami]

content; hawks x transmasc!reader, chubby!reader, anatomy referred to as boycunt, hole, pussy; bottom growth mentioned, binder mentioned, male-exclusive pronouns.

this fic is intended for transmasc readers! there’s scarcely any rep for trans readers, esp with kei. happy pride month, you are loved:)

a/n; thank you sm for 200 followers! i appreciate every single one of you, thank you for helping to make my dream of being a writer a reality<3 i am preparing a few posts and they’ll be regularly posted!

“Come here, boy,” Keigo purred, spreading his legs as he leaned into the plushness of his leather sofa. The fabric dipped as he laid back. His eyes pinned on you, dilating.

Keigo had his left wrist resting against his knee, his free palm lifting to pat against his inner thigh; a silent order. You swallowed your anticipation, your legs guiding you forward. Lowering yourself into his lap, your soft thighs rested against his, legs dangling down as he gently grabbed at your sides. He hummed to himself in satisfaction, eyes just as glazed as yours.

“So fucking perfect…” He whispered, as though to himself, through gritted teeth.

Wasting no time, he bit his lip as he lifted your shirt to reveal your binder. He took a moment to marvel at the sight, the way your skin softly spilled out its pressure. Keigo leaned into your collarbone to nip at your skin with a primal hunger. You could feel his smile against your skin when you let out a small gasp, teeth sinking into you as he marked you.

“Let me hear you, baby boy,” Keigo growled between sharp breaths. His fingers dug into your sides as he teased you. Red crescents dented your skin as his nails clawed deeper, desperate to feel all of you.

You whined as you felt a hand shy down into your boxers, past your open fly as two fingers grazed along your t-dick. Your body betrayed you, back arching a little at the small release of tension from Keigo’s teasing. He drew back, admiring you as your face scrunched slightly when his fingers continued to explore your needy boycunt, stroking down your folds, fingertips coating in slick.

“Oh, god-” You winced at the pleasure, at the pain as two digits stretched out your hole. As you moaned, Keigo felt his stomach knot. Your soft walls around his fingers, the warmth sucking him in so perfectly. He wanted to breed you so fucking bad.

“Keigo, please, don’t stop-” You found yourself fucking into his hand already.

The suns of his eyes flicked upwards into yours, equally full of desire. He smirked, cocking his head as his wings furled back from behind you to his back.

Raising an eyebrow, Keigo purred, “Tell me you want it, dove,” He waited for you, any signal to continue. You merely whined, but your hips rolling into his knuckles was the hottest affirmation he could have asked for.

Slowly curling his digits into your pussy, you whimpered as your breath hitched at the hot pressure, walls clenching around Keigo’s fingers. He hummed to himself as he watched you writhe in his lap, his cock aching at the pressure. Worshipping you with his hands as your back curved in pleasure, eyes rolling back as his fingers were sucked in and out of your tight heat.

“That’s my good boy.” Keigo growled.

[azialways]

would you be willing to write something for ronin with a ftm partner? i think it would be really sweet :)

OMG YES! now i do love me my angst…so he he ha ha.

_________________________________________

date night and dysphoria

ronin x ftm!reader

tw: gender dysphoria, mentions of anxiety, preop reader, binder misuse, a very strict ronin, suggestive joke from reader

PLEASE BIND SAFELY GUYS

You were getting ready for your date night with Ronin. This was your first official date, because he wasn’t a fan of going to fancy restaurants or anything sappy. It was one of the only things you wished the two of you shared in this beautifully hellish relationship you had. He was a true romantic, he shows his love in gore and viscera. Dating a serial came with its perks and struggles, one of which being they were constantly using their crimes to show their love, you remembered the time for Valentine’s day, he painted a heart around the corpse in with the person’s intestines and internal organs. So getting him to do anything more traditional was a challenge, to say the least; but alas, you finally convinced him to let you take him out for dinner. So, you planned on picking him up on your bike, and riding over to the local diner for a small meal, maybe a burger and milkshakes, play it cliche. He was a huge softie and a romantic beneath the “I am the devil” exterior he put up. He liked spontaneity, it was like a game to him.

So there you were, picking out a new outfit for the date. You tended to play things a little differently than he did in style, but you had your quirks as he did his. You picked out some jeans, threw a studded belt on top, and then, there it was. You forgot you weren’t taping, so you were binding instead. You preferred tape because you didn’t have to see your chest, instead it was covered up by the tape. You hated your chest, it was one of the few things that still have you dysphoria. You changed most of the external aspects of your body, you grew your body hair, cut your hair, worked out like crazy until you had a more masculine build, but the chest was the only thing that kept people confused as to whether you were a guy or a lesbian. It made you feel like shit.

One thing Ronin was good at was reassuring you that you were in fact a man, and not a girl in guys clothes. Sure, part of it was that he had been there himself for a part of his life, but he also was just overall a good boyfriend when he needed to be. He never failed to make you feel validated and loved in that department, but also just in general. He loved you, you knew it. He loved you like you were his fallen angel, the angel who he had caught falling from the heavens. He looked at you like you were the most holy and precious being to grace the earth, even if you didn’t feel it most days. You were just counting down the days until you could get top surgery, proper top surgery. Not whatever the fuck Ronin did in the alleys of Purgatory. But even now, you found yourself thinking about it. You thought about it every second of the day; you didn’t exactly need bottom surgery, but top surgery was on your top priority. You hated your chest beyond anything else in the world. It gave you the worst dysphoria, and honestly was part of your depression. You just didn’t feel like you belonged in this body, one with breasts. You wanted to just chop them off yourself, but Ronin always said

“No you can’t do that, you’d bleed out and die, only I get to do that.” Romantic, huh? You didn’t even realize you were crying at that point, but you were. It hurt your chest. You have had your binder on for 10 hours already, and you could feel the pressure on your chest. So before you spiraled into hell, you decided to call him.

“Hey Darlin, you miss me?” His voice rung through the phone, it sounded like he was still working.

“Fuck are you still working?” You stammered, not wanting to interrupt.

“No, was just ‘boutta go on break. What’s up?”

“You sure?”

“Baby if I was busy, I wouldn’t’ve picked up.” He responded, sounding like he was walking around.

“Okay, well it’s just my dysphoria is being a bitch right now.”

“Did you take your binder off yet?” He immediately asked. He knew you too well.

“No…” You responded.

“_____, take it off.” He spoke sternly.

“I’m literally dysphoric, that would make it worse.” You complained, but your ribs did hurt a bit.

“I will literally come home and cut it off if I need to.”

“You sure you don’t want to just wanna touch me?” You joked, and you just heart him scoff.

“As much as I adore your gorgeous body, your lungs are equally as gorgeous when they aren’t crushed by your ribs.” He responded, sounding like he was grabbing something. You then him say bye to someone.

“Ro, are you really leaving work for me?” You groaned, you hated when he did. Plus, you had a whole plan for a date.

“Maybe I am, maybe not. You’ll find out in 15 minutes.” He chuckled, then he hung up.

He definitely was going home, and you both loved and hated him for it. It meant he loved and cared for you, but on the other hand, leaving work meant less money for you guys. Maybe. His boss was really nice. Within minutes, you heard the sound of keys jingling against the door, opening the lock.

“Darling? Where’d you run off to?” You heard his voice ring through the hallways, and you shouted back weakly “Here!”

“Oh, hey there darlin.” He spoke softly, seeing you curled up on the bathroom floor. “Whatcha up to?” He sat next to you on the floor, being there if you wanted to get up and talk. For a while, you didn’t want to, you didn’t even want to move. You just wanted to stay there curled up.

“Did you take your binder off?” He asked gently, careful not to upset you. You shook your head, and he frowned gently. “Babe, you need to take it off. It’s not worth bruising your ribs over…” He spoke, and saw you wince at the idea.

“I bought you a compression vest…not as good as a binder, but it’s good for breaks.” He took a package out of his bag, and he slid it next to you. That caught your attention, so you sat up, and took the box. You then threw yourself onto him for a hug. You needed this, and he was willing to give everything up.

"Hey, baby." He whispered.

"You are a man, and a really fuckin handsome one at that. " He wiped your tears with his hand.

"Other people can fuck themselves. You are whoever the fuck you wanna be, and I see you as the most amazing, most handsome guy ever, yeah? I’ll kill anyone who disrespects you.” He turned serious, then jokes. He stroked your hair, holding you gently against him. "We will get you every little thing you need, okay? that means top surgery, testosterone, any other hormones or meds you'll need, anything.”

And hey, good news, We have your top surgery consultation soon, then we can get the process going, okay?” He reassured you, holding you close. He murmured the next few words, and they meant the world to you.

“Just remember that this body is yours, I may joke about how you’re all mine and shit, but seriously, it’s your body. Meaning you only change it if you want to." He leaned forward and kissed your cheek drying the tears with his hoodie.

“Fuck I love you, yknow that?” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“Awh ain’t that sweet? Love ya too darl.”

“I wanted to surprise you at work and go on a date. But no, stupid dysphoria ruins everything.” You sighed.

“We can have a date here. Watch some horror movies, cook a meal together…how about it?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“But first, binder off.” He ordered, and you sighed, getting up and grabbing the vest.

“Fine. Shoo.” He just chucked, raising his hands in mock surrender.

[theyanderespecialist]

Stolas's Trans Man (Headcanons) Yandere Stolas X Trans Man Reader/Listener

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another chapter this is another pride month one, with Yandere Stolas x Trans Man you/Reader/Listener (And I am going to make him a goetia more info in the disclaimer) I hope that you all enjoy this!] 

(Disclaimer 1: for those who do not know a bird has a cloaca. Meaning that they have one hole for everything, poo, pee, and reproductive holes! Since you were afab you can lay eggs (until your transition. Just telling you, so you know what you are working with. Your periods also consist of you laying smaller eggs. Yes, a period can be worse than what we have for uterus havers on Earth! Anyways let's do this! 

Disclaimer 2: Stolas is not yandere in canon, but he is a gay man in canon. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it, yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon! thank you, and happy Pride! Trans Rights are human rights, and trans men are men!) 

-Headcanons With Yandere Stolas X Trans Male Reader- 

.Stolas was now exploring his sexuality with Blitz, but he did not know he would catch feelings for another Goetia. 

.You were around a decade younger than him, in your early twenties and you just came out to your parents. 

.The whole Goetia family laughed about it so you were staying away from them as much as possible. 

.Stolas and you met at the divorce party Stella forced him to go to. 

.He had never felt this way before not even for Blitzy! 

.He would be talking with you and notice that you have a lot of chest feathers. 

.When he learns that yes you are a trans man, it makes sense. 

.He is very happy to take you under his wing and promises you that he will help you become the man you always wanted to be. 

.He just wants you close and he wants to make you happy, and at this point, he does not give a fuck about what his ex-wife thinks. 

.His first love with Blitz has failed so he is not going to be ready to hope into something new. 

.But he does help guide you through it.

.Such as helping you pluck your chest feathers that are too much. Not to mention any other feathers that would need to be molted off once you are that far on T.

.He would also kind of be a sugar daddy for you, helping you pay for all your testosterone and surgeries, not to mention anything else that you would need. 

.He is also a master in potion making so he would make you potions to help you with your transition as well. 

.Being very supportive of you and help you where he can. 

.Of course the more you become a man the more it does things to and for him. 

.It goes from being a older person in the Goetia to being a man that wanted you, another man. 

.Once he realizes this he becomes more and more nervous. 

.What if you do not like him? What if you think lowly of him like Blitz did? 

.He is a yandere who is so insecure and has so much anxiety. 

.Though he is protective, he can go from worrywart to downright terrifying. 

.Most people forget how powerful Stolas Is, and how dangerous he is. 

.He would deal with rivals pretty much by either turning them to stone or even straight-up torturing them, maybe even feeding those rivals to his plants. 

.He is a big romantic and would have to sit down to ask if you wanted kids with him. 

.Since you were AFAB he knows that is a choice if you want to have an egg or two with him before you have bottom surgery. 

.He does not need to have kids with you, he is also okay with adoption. 

.The only thing that matters to him is you. 

.Very protective and loving and just wants you to be you and to make you happy! 

.So he would do everything to make sure that you feel like the man you are. 

.He is also the type of yandere partner that would let you put a strap on and have your way with him. 

.He will make you feel like a man in and out of the bedroom. 

.He does a LOT of gender-affirming things for you that is a fact. 

.Also if anyone misgenders you, he will throw his status and power around, and be like "Do we have a problem!" 

.He is a yandere who tries to make sure that everything is perfect. 

.When he finally does confess to you it is a big grand thing. 

.If you accept this love he will have you fully move in (you were pretty much already living there.) so that he and you can start a life together~ 

.If that does not happen he will be heartbroken and push you away, he cannot see that beautiful smile and know that you do not feel the same. 

.He will still support you but he would be hurt, of course, his yandere side is not going to let you be with anyone else. 

.If he cannot have you then no one can, and that is that!] 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done, I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy! All of my sexy muffins!] 

[pannman]

Alastor deals with transphobia towards reader headcannons

Tw: gender dysphoria, transphobia, murder, hurt/comfort

He doesn't know a lot about transgenders but he tries to understand

You explain to him that back in his time no one had a name for it and it wasn't a very accepting time (which he fully agrees). You tell him that sex is your body and gender is your mind and that you were born with a different gender than your sex. You explain that it causes you to be uncomfortable in your own body and going by your old name and pronouns

After thoroughly explaining it, Alastor will try to use your new name and pronouns as often as possible in order to learn them faster

It truly makes you feel great that he is trying so hard

But let's say one day he's not with you and someone is disrespectful. They say hateful things. It hurts you deeply and you're still really self conscious about defending yourself

You return home and immediately isolate yourself and cry. Alastor knows something is up and appears in your room to try and comfort you and also find out what happened

You are a bit worried that he won't understand why it hurt you so much but you tell him anyway. To your surprise he is furious and demands to know who this loathsome sinner is and where he might find them

If you're comfortable revealing that information he'll first tend to you and do whatever you need him to. He'll hold you and tell you that you are stronger than you realize. He'll bring you your favorite snacks and put on your favorite show even though he's not fond of television.

Then when he's sure you are going to be OK and you are fine to be left alone he'll track down this heathen and broadcast their carnage. He'll warn all of hell not to make the same mistake they did

Now if you refuse to give him any information about them because you don't want him to rip someone apart for hurting your feelings (still valid), he'll be a bit bummed but he'll respect that and simply spend all his time making sure you feel loved and validated

He'll cook for you, cuddle with you, and speak words of affection and affirmation to you till you fall asleep in his arms

Now if someone dared to be disrespectful of your gender with him nearby they would be torn to shreds before they can even begin to beg for mercy

Unless you step in quick enough to dissolve the situation. In which Alastor would simply scare the ever living daylights out of them and make them apologize

Then he would turn to you and make sure you are ok

In short, he may not understand the whole mind vs body thing but he does understand what's important to you

And will always care about what's important to you

[donutz]

Sebastian Solace x mute & transgender! reader

It's your first time meeting Sebastian, though.. Your kind soul warms his cold heart

— Sebastian doesn't have that much of a cold heart though so Idk where I was going with that one

Warning: Stitches and needles; Mentions of gashes; Sebastian warms up pretty quickly, I don't like it that much but hey🤷‍♀️; "Signing, looks, like, this".; There's tension, not sure if it's sexual but there's tension;

Speed walking through the halls, you constantly looked around you. Anxious for another monster to pop up. Especially those Squiddles… When it came to even darker rooms you jogged through, hating it when you had to search for a keycard.

You were injured, not too bad. Just a gash in your thigh.

*Good thing it couldn’t chop off anything..*

*I wish it got chopped off.*

It’s hard to breathe or really walk anywhere with your binding(If you do bind). After that ‘minor’ injury, you searched through the drawers and lockers, looking for a medkit. Since you found a flashlight earlier, it might be possible to find a medkit.

You look up at the door number, slightly aching your eyes. Immediately looking down at the ground, you repeat what you saw in your head.

‘Door 48’.

It hurts to blink, to walk. Limping your way into the next room. Expecting anything, except a flying vent grille.

“Got something for ya, come here”.

You jump, yipping in your head. You look around for any flashing lights or peering bright green eyes. Maybe even a squiddle? No, none of them.

“C’monnn, I got good things for you, my own shop.”

You physically quivered. Walking over to the vent, and exhaling while crawling through the tight space. Your wound opening up more.

Reaching the end of the vent, you look around, not seeing much. Until a comforting light turns on.

“Welcome, welcome”!

You jump. Bumping your head against the metal vent.

“Oh… You alright?”

Sebastian wasn’t sure why he said that. He just met you! Worrying about a human… Ridiculous.

You shake your head in response. Bumping your head hurt more than it normally would. You’re stressed, hurt, and scared. Not a great combo.

You look at him, signing, “You,speak, sign, language?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows(?) rose.

“Oh! Um”..

“No”. He accidentally signs.

You tilt your head, confused. 

“You.. Don’t”??

He lightly slaps his face. Realizing he said the wrong thing.

“No I do, kind of”.

“I, just, signed, the, wrong, thing”. He sighs.

You show a surprised look on your face. Though it’s not very visible through your darkened visor. You smile, happy that someone could finally understand you. Even if they weren’t really human.

“I’ll talk, though. If that’s.. Nevermind, my name is Sebastian.”

You finally crawl out of the vent, more comfortable now that you know he’s more kind than any other monster down here. Looking around it seems like this small area is a shop.

Oh wait, he said that earlier.

“If I’m correct, you’re… Instructors told you to grab a crystal and secure loose assets. Well as a trade, you give me the data and I give you useful items. It seems like you need a healing tool for that… Gash”.

It seems like you forgot all about that. Maybe it was because you were too focused on Sebastian.

“Well I do have a medkit for that, just 250 research will do the trick.”

Opening your bag, you check how much you have. Your bag pops up a holographic screen of the amount of data you’ve collected.

Around 1755 data.. That’s more than enough.

You walk over to his tail, picking up the medkit and setting it on the ground to collect the right amount of data for it. Maybe even adding an extra tip to give to Sebastian.

You hand him 300 research, smiling because of your appreciation for his kindness. He counts how much there are, his mouth scrunching from confusion.

“Hey— you.. Gave me extra. It’s only 250—”

“I, know”.

“I, just, wanted, to, give, you, extra. Because, of, how, kind, you’ve, been, to, me”.

It was as if your face was glowing within your gear. You’re a very kind human.

“... Why thank you”. But this isn’t a trick right? Urbanshade isn’t trying to make me all soft?

I’m not sure if I can trust this one.

You buy the flash beacon next, giving him the correct amount. Now you only have 1205 research left. Standing up, you hear a pop in your knees from crouching.

Sebastian visibly cringes from that sound, he isn’t very used to that sound. Not anymore.

Peering at the table, you spot a document. Sebastian looks away from you, looking at the light meters high.

You look at him, and he looks back at you. Side eyeing.

“Who’s, document, is, this”?

“That document is mine.. Urbanshade makes documents on every creature or prisoner they have. They probably even have one on you”.

You look back at the document, pondering.

“Is, this, for, sale”?

“Yes, for 1000 research of course”.

You’re surprised at that large amount of ‘money’, but it is reasonable. It’s not like you would want anybody reading a document about you for a small amount. Especially if you’re more of a private person.

“I’ll, buy, it”.

Sebastian’s mouth lightly gapes, “You really have that much”?

You giggle, nodding at him, finding his surprised look funny. You hand over the data, while Sebastian smiles. Mainly because he can use this against Urbanshade, but also because of you. You’re not really like any other human he’s seen or heard of. 

You’re a kind soul.

“I’ll have that ready for you when you’re at the surface”.

Smiling even wider, you step, putting a bit too much pressure on your right leg, causing a sharp pain to shoot throughout it.

You whimper, stepping closer to the wall to sit down. Right near the vent.

“Oh my, you really need that fixed don’t you”?

Nodding, you sigh.

“Do, you, know, how, to, stitch”?

He’s taken aback, it’s not like he thought you knew how to stitch an injury or something. It’s just because he might have to get close. Close to a human.

“I-.. Yes. I do”. He stuttered.

You notice his visible discomfort and worriedly sign, “You, don’t, have, to, if, you, don’t, want, to. I, see, that, you’ve, gone, through, enough, already”.

“When, it, comes, to, humans.” 

He gasps, staying silent as he takes in what you signed. Yes, he has been through enough when it comes through humans.

But you’re different.

“No it’s fine r-really! I’ll stitch it up for you”. He's still not sure why he's acting like this.

He bends down to your height, being careful with his tail. He’d let you rest against it but… Maybe that’s too far.

A few seconds later, he has the smaller needles and thread carefully sat  between his larger claws.

It’s quiet, minus the low ringing of the lights, and the slight swoosh of the fan.

“Okay uhm.. Deep.. Breaths…”

Inhale

He sticks the small needle through your skin, flinching at the feeling. Though it wasn’t too bad.. Just a hard pinch.

Exhaleee….

You might as well fall asleep because of the earlier adrenaline. And god. That hurt. Nevermind a hard pinch, that felt like getting— Ughh. I don’t even want to describe it.

You throw your head back looking up at the heightened ceiling.

… Do you think that’s where Sebastian crawled from?

Like maybe in a vent or something..?

… Sorry—

Pinch!

You grab his sleeve.

“I’m sorry alright! I don’t mean to—” He looks at you. Letting out a sigh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just…” He inhaled.

Looking at him, “Stressed”? You signed.

Scrunching his eyes, glad you know what he’s feeling. 

Exhaling, “Yeah. Stressed”.

“It’s, okay. I, don’t, mind. I’m, not, the, one, stitching, after, all”. You let out a small laugh. So does he.

“.. Thank you”.

He loops through 3 more times, just one more loop left. During the three loops, you were holding his hand. Warming it up, warm blooded and cold blooded.

Literally and mentally.

“Alright just one more left and we’re done”.

Finally.

Going through the last loop, he tightens the stitches, holding your hand tighter now that he’s finishes his work.

You observe it, astonished at the fine service.

Looking up at him, smiling, you sign, “Thank, you”.

“S, E, B, A, S, T, I, A, N”.

“You’re.. Welcome”...

You slowly start to lose your vision, falling to your right, which leads to Sebastian catching your body with his tail.

“O- Oh”...

I did a different writing style on purpose, I think. Idk I wanted to sound like a professional writer on A03.

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

french version here

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of ​​bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages ​​in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages ​​according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[local-crying-boy]

Write a Bucky X trans male reader fic and my life is yours. (Please and thank you)

If you also add praise I would cry tears of joy (Bucky praising the reader that is)

Thank you for your service 🫡

🄹🄰🄼🄴🅂 '🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈' 🄱🄰🅁🄽🄴🅂

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕓𝕠𝕪

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 '𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢' 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜!𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚌!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚖𝚕𝚖

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛/𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚢𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚊, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚢 (𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜), 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 633

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚜𝚒𝚛. 𝙸 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝙴𝚇𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙻𝚈 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You and Bucky, throughout everything you two had done respectfully to and for the avengers, and grown incredibly close.

Throughout his struggles of overcoming the Winter Solider, you were by his side every step of the way. Through the nightmares, the late nights were all Bucky could do was form incoherent sentences ad could barely breathe, you were there. You calmed him down, you helped him find his words once more.

And, in turn, Bucky had always been by your side throughout all your struggles. Bucky was always there for your highs and lows, just as you were for him. When there were days that you could barely handle looking at yourself, couldn't bare to listen to the high pitchiness of your voice, or how you couldn't find yourself passing as much as you wanted to, Bucky was there. He reassured you each time, showed you what he loved about you and even taught you to love yourself as much as he did.

Bucky was one of the few people, if not the only person aside from yourself, who knew all the signs of when you were starting to dip in your mood. He was even quick to find different ways to cheer you up, in which ever way you needed.

Today was just another one of those days, unfortunately.

Curled up in your bed after a tough training session with the rest of the team, you had laid quietly as your eyes fixated on some specific part of a wall in your room, more specifically the part of the wall where the little amount of light that was coming in landed. You had been debating whether or not you should get up to grab something to watch, so that you weren't laying in complete silence doing absolutely nothing.

You heard as your bedroom door creaked open slowly, the light from the hallway washing into your previously dark room. You grimaced quietly from the sudden demand for your eyes to adapt to the new lighting.

"Hey, Doll." You heard from an all too familiar voice, though it was softer than it was when you were out training, "You feeling okay, you kinda just disappeared."

You laid on your back, moving your head to where the voice had come from. Your eyes locked onto Bucky's, his gaze sympathetic and full of concern as he saw your puffy eyes and solemn expression.

He was quick to sit on the side of your bed, hand brushing your unkept hair out of your face as he spoke quietly and gently. "What's wrong?"

"I dunno." You muttered with a low voice, taking a deep breath as to steady your voice so that it didn't break and tremble. "I... I'm just not feeling it right now."

A small breath escaped Bucky's lips, he continued looking down at your covered frame, as if he was deciding what would or would not be the best cause of action in this situation.

Though, it was not long until he simply motioned with his hands for you to move up on the bed. Once you did, he laid his back on the bed board, pulling you towards his muscular frame. Bucky placed on hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair and the other hand resting on your back.

“Not feeling it?” He repeated softly, looking down at your head just resting idly on his chest.

You let out a small sigh, your hand resting just over his abdomen. "It's just a bad day, Buck."

Bucky was silent for a few short moments, but he was quick to respond, as always. So, with a kiss planted gently on the top of your head. "Is it... body stuff again?"

You didn't give an audible answer, but you nodded slowly.

He sighed softly, his hand that rested on your back slowly rubbing up and down, his other hand stroking your hair as if he knew that it would provide you with some sort of comfort.

"Doll," He started, his voice so quiet, so gentle, a version of him only he would let you have the privilege of seeing. "You know you've been doing so well, and I'm so proud of how far you've come."

You let out a faint, amused laugh, the words always seemed so silly to hear, but you wanted to hear them so much. You wanted some sort of, confirmation over how you've been doing, as if your own affirmations weren't enough all the time.

"You're so handsome, Doll." He whispered so softly. "My sweet boy, doing so well. I love you so much"

You found yourself inching ever so closer to Bucky, despite the fact that the two of you were already so closely embraced.

"I love you too..." You responded with a soft voice, only causing Bucky to plant another kiss on top of your head.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Hey, could I request a trans (ftm) and Gabriel fic perferrably with a wing kink/preening?

Thank you so much for the request. I think I went through like four iterations until I felt it was what the wonderful user wanted. I feel very honored for the request. I hope it is what you wanted. ❤️💛

Request: Gabriel x ftm Reader, Wing Preening

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,073

Summary: Gabriel flirts his way into getting his husband to assist preening his wings.

A/N: I suck at titles. Hush.

I want to thank @mochatheangelkiller for their help.

Gabriel walked into the bedroom shirtless, in boxer briefs, and with his golden wings folded behind him. “Hey,” he said to Y/N, flirtatiously.

Y/N looked up from his book with a small smile upon seeing Gabe as he was. “Do you need something?” He asks, teasingly.

Gabriel saunters in, raising his wings up and about, a mating display, he knows that Y/N likes to see, especially once the archangel explained them. He finds Gabriel’s wings beautiful and loves to touch the soft feathers when Gabe has them out.

Y/N grins, wondering if Gabe is trying to seduce him or wanting him to help preen him. He knows his archangel boyfriend likes to seduce and tease, sometimes at the same time.

Gabriel crawled onto their four-poster bed towards Y/N. He put his book down on the nightstand waiting to see what the lovely golden-eyed angel does.

Y/N quirks a brow at Gabriel, their smile relaxes watching the angel’s movements.

The messenger of god straddles Y/N's comforter-covered thighs and wraps his hands around his neck.

“Gabriel,” warns Y/N. He crosses his arms, not reciprocating Gabriel’s advances.

The archangel rolls his eyes and crosses his arm. “Ok. Ok. I need help with my wings,” he mumbles sheepishly.

Y/N’s face softens, leans forward, and places a chaste kiss on Gabriel’s lips. “The word is ‘preen’.”

“I’m not calling it that,” the Angel pouted.

Y/N grins, amused. It’s an argument the Y/N uses to tease the Angel since it’s hard to tease The Trickster who claimed to be Loki, Norse God.

“Go on, sit down,” Y/N pats next to them and slides off their side of the bed so Gabriel can spread out one of his wings to allow Y/N to work. He goes over to their laptop on the desk and puts on their usual playlist for preening.

Returning, Y/N begins first with the left wing by straightening and ‘zipping’ feathers before gently removing loose ones. Gabriel shivers at the initial contact and relaxes into his touch. The messenger sighs in contentment. Y/N smiles at the sound and then focuses on the task at hand. The gentle movements and massaging stimulation the oil glands throughout the wing and on Gabriel’s back. Knowing where they are across his boyfriend’s wing, Y/N begins to slowly spread the oil and then skims their hands down Gabriel’s back. He can feel goosebumps rise at their touch along the Angel’s back as they collect more oil. He coats the oil on each feather as the youngest archangel showed them.

It’s so easy to do the task and just relax especially with the instrumental music playlist. The scent of the oil permeates the air: a sweet, clover-like scent, honeysuckle with a hint of tobacco. Y/N takes a deep breath and just loves the scent that embodies the one who has their heart. Their nipples tighten under their T-shirt and feel themselves becoming aroused.

“I love you, Gabriel.” He smiles as he works on the front of the left wing.

“I love you too, hot stuff.”

Y/N chuckles at the angel’s endearment for them.

“You doing okay?” He asks, worried that holding the wing up may be tiresome for the angel.

“I’m good,” Gabriel responds, confidently.

There is a pile of broken and loose feathers next to the man. He takes them and puts them on Gabriel’s nightstand.

“Okay, swap sides.”

Gabriel folds his wing back and moves to sit on the left side to allow Y/N to work on the right wing. Gabriel spreads the wing out, and Y/N gets on the bed and starts again. Straightening and ‘zipping’ the feathers back followed by removing loose feathers, making another pile.

Y/N has always been affected by Gabriel’s scent. His arousal simmering as they work on the other side of the wing. He can see that Gabriel is just as affected as he is if the bulge in his underwear is anything to go by.

“Enjoying yourself?” Y/N teases.

Gabriel looks at them as his eyes remain on the wing. “What do you think?”

Y/N grins, wide, at the returned tease. He slows down about halfway done with the inside of the right wing. He relaxes his face, trying to seem focused on the task and not trying to ignore their arousal. Breathing deep and slowly doesn’t exactly help, it does help them focus. They have a goal in mind with Gabriel’s progressive bulge.

Gabriel presses on his hardness over his boxer briefs.

Y/N reaches over and smacks his hand. “No,” he commands.

Gabriel whines, pursing his lips into a frown.

“Patience, Angel.”

“You know I can't do that.”

Y/N chuckles. “Liar. You waited for me.”

Gabriel smiles and rolls his golden eyes. “True,” he quietly agrees. “You were worth it.”

Y/N smiles, feeling heat rise to their cheeks, as they continue along the ‘arm’ oiling the feathers.

Gabriel shivers through his wings.

Y/N grins, wickedly. He knee-walks and straddles Gabriel.

“He-llo,” Gabriel greets and wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Hey,” Y/N greets back. He wraps his arms around the angel’s shoulders and grounds down on the angel.

He throws his head back and groans. Y/N leans forward and sucks marks along the angel’s tendon, his neck nipping, laying kitten licks, and soothing them. He slides his hands down Gabriel’s back to the main oil glands and presses on them drawing a gasp from him as he arches his back.

Y/N leans forward, lips against his ear. “You like that, Angel?”

Gabriel is panting and pushes his hips upward, two pieces of cloth separating their bodies. Y/N hums in pleasure, leans back, and takes off his shirt, revealing two silver scars across their chest from their top surgery. The Angel’s hand comes up and traces them like he does every time. He revels in Y/N’s bravery, determination, and resilience. The scars speak so much of Y/N’s past struggles and knows how lucky he is to call him his.

Y/N bites his lower lip, his eyes watching the awe on Gabriel’s face the angel has every single time. He smiles at his angel.

“Gabriel,” he whispers.

The angel looks at him, pupil large with a sliver of golden at the edges. Y/N smiles, ready for so much more.

Want me to write more? Let me know. I would love to hear from you. 📝❤️

[an0ldworld]

hello there! i just found your blog and i love your writing for hobie, so i’d like to request another thing for him.

would you mind doing something about a transmasc vigilante reader who tags along with hobie on patrols and late night hangouts? hobie and the reader could diy their own costumes together :) maybe reader is black cat, another spiderperson, or whatever you want to come up with. thanks in advance, and i’ll probably request again soon!

hobie brown with a transgender, vigilante reader (ftm)

RAAHH thank you so much :]

i chose for the reader to be another spidersona, probably anarchist and super cool, hope this is okay! let me know if not

warnings: unsafe binding (there’s a warning ahead)

pairing: hobie brown x transmasc!reader

requests: open ! PLEASE

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

for you and hobie to get along so well and hang out outside of missions n such, i imagine you’re a spider-man who rejected miguel’s “invitation” to spider society. this is what might have led to you becoming a vigilante who’s occasionally recruited by spider society after some begging- or you’ve just been a vigilante from day one in your dimension.

but ! who’s likely to notice such a person? hobie, obviously. you two become menaces and no one looks forward to being in a room with you. hobie destroys their faith in the constitution while you’re reinforcing everything

during missions, you make a hell of a team ! there’s somehow this real nonchalant feeling to the atmosphere even if you’re punching down baddies

banter, plenty of it back and forth while swinging about and fighting for ur life

probably makes fun of your form or something playfully, makes a comment or two about a punch you’ve thrown “you call tha’ a punch?” “Naaah, nahnahnahnahnah. watch this,” probably does worse let’s be honest, throws the dirties punch known to man but it does the trick

you’re more stealth while hobie’s way more out there, style n all that

hobie dropping in on some operation to take down the big baddies while shredding away at his electric guitar, meanwhile he’s able to see you picking off people from vantage points

whenever you’ve gotta wait about for some patrols or just observe for a night, you two will find some sorta rooftop to perch on top of and patrol from there. but the view kills

you two probably have a sort of routine: completing missions together for the spider society, hobie then tags along for some vigilante work, then you both kick back at his place once the days come to an end

chill night consists of hobie subconsciously strumming at a note occasionally on his guitar while you talk about whatever together

a lot of complaining about the institution, probably how much miguel fucking sucks

depending on ur current situation with transitioning, given that hobie knows, mans is probably the most supportive person you’ll meet

hobie lives in a society that he actively chooses to protect despite being apart of the margin of people that are still severely oppressed to terrible degrees, be it for his race or how he chooses to express himself (in my head, hobie’s also a boy kisser). so i think that he has a certain passion for protecting those minority groups. you, as a trans man, sometimes get the hobie brown special treatment.

let’s you crash at his place whenever you need it, let’s you borrow his clothes n shit if they help you feel more masculine, will give you tips n tricks that either he uses or has heard work great for presenting masculine

does your makeup if you want it, like making your face look more chisel, fake facial hair or brows more blocky- that kinda shit.

if you’re yet to go through the execution process (top surgery), hobie’s ur guy (a terrible terrible influence)

if you have a binder, good for you- hobie is going to find it and customise it for you because he’s hilarious

probably does some like web stitching into it, lil embroidered parts that match his pins or something like “hobie was here” in his clapped handwriting

this isn’t anything new, you two have this little game going on where you just steal and tag each others things for shits and giggles. his best work? punk-ifying your binders with those like spikes he has on his jackets shoulder pads

firm believer in trans men being shirtless in a binder is normalising something that should’ve been from the beginning- probably also marched a free the titties campaign for all body types and identities cause they aren’t inherently sexual and shouldn’t be (if cis men can, why can’t cis women, y’know?)

if he accidentally damages your shit he’ll either fix or replace it, maybe even make something to compensate

or it becomes part of the fit

these lil things have helped personalise your things greatly- there’s nice little details all over that make you both crack smiles

makes sure that throughout missions you’re good if you’re binding, which he honestly just doesn’t dictate. won’t be the type to tell you off for wearing it too long or during missions, it’s not your fault that you’re just doing what makes you feel more like yourself

instead just makes sure that you’re well rested after the missions over and does things for you so you don’t strain

(DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. I WILL FIND YOU.)

if by some unfortunate twist of fate you don’t have a binder, hobie will probably diy you one. argues that they can be mass produced by corporations, why can’t he make one by hand? just one more win for the anarchists

diy binders are dangerous, especially if they’re not made right. i’d like to think hobie would try his best, but i imagine he doesn’t have access to the right materials

in this case, he probably rips apart his shit trying to find the right elastic cloths for your safety

that, or he makes a makeshift binders just a bit looser than it should be to reduce the risk of hurting you.

absolute worst case scenario ? could honestly fashion something out of webs (i have a spidersona that does this) mans a genius, he’ll figure something out

positive ? binder looks sick since he makes it

(ok ur safe, continue)

if you’ve got top surgery, good for u, hobie will have ur head if you don’t take the appropriate recovery time

if you are involved with spider society, he either takes your missions for you or absolutely terrorises miguel into not giving you any

you think it’s just a subconscious, casual thing that hobie does but he always manages to slip a “lad” “boy” “man” into his sentences whenever speaking to or about you. gender affirmations innit

that being said, hobie views you as a man wholeheartedly

hobie’s into physical touch so probably got an arm slung around your shoulder, tons of playfully nudges whenever he sees fit (often)

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i also wanna stress rq that the way i portray hobie; he’s so incredibly supportive, hype man, but he’s not this sunshine and rainbows thing i’ve seen some people portray him as

he’s laid back, nonchalant but can get excited (like w the whole “miles my guy” scene where he’s so hype)

thinks/knows he’s hot shit but it doesn’t make him arrogant. man just knows what he’s capable of and gets to be laid back thanks to it

[cyborg-franky]

omg requests are open?? if youve got the time, could you do a sfw drabble on transman y/n (he or they, either is fine!) showing law their top surgery scars for the first time? 🥺

I don't understand 'trashman y/n' but here it iiis <3

Law x Transmale reader SFW

You were nervous, sitting there crawling in your skin as Law made his way to you.

This was the first time you’d been injured in battle and thus the first time you had to show Law your chest.

He stared down his nose at you, how you seemed to squirm under his gaze, you were sweating to the point he was concerned you were melting. 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and crouched down with his box of medical supplies, somethings couldn’t be whooshed away with his power and it was a drain just to fix up the one or two bumps and cuts.

You leaned back when he reached out to your shirt to tug it down and get a look at what was tinging it with blood. He could tell it was something small but he was confused why you were being such a baby about it.

“I won’t even threaten to count down from 10 because it’ll just piss me off, show me.” His voice was commanding, leaving you no room to avoid him anymore.

You took a breath and took off your shirt, his eyes went straight to your wound, and his gaze didn’t even flick across your scars. He cleaned up the injury before dressing it, shutting the box with a satisfying click before he looked at you fully for the first time.

“Are they why you were nervous to show me?” he asked, seeing you nod before he handed you back your shirt. “They look relatively new, they healed well though.” He said with a nod. “Though if you’d asked me to take them off there’d have been no scar.” He said with a teasing smirk and you relaxed, leaning against your seat and chuckling to his comment. All the nervousness leaving your body.

Why had you been so scared, to be honest with him? You knew he wouldn’t have changed his opinion of you or said anything nasty.

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a weight had been lifted.