Task force men reacting to your packer accidentally falling out of your pants.
🍝Ghost:
It had been bothering you all day. Just at an odd fucking angle, trying to adjust it subtly wasn’t working anymore. You’d just finished a mission, miserable as ever. Waiting for everyone else to get back into the base, you reached a hand down your pants, trying to fix it. God you looked fucking ridiculous. Like you were touching yourself. Biting down your shame you adjusted it, shaking out your leg to make sure it wouldn’t slip the wrong way. Except it did anyway. Stupid thing.
“Oi.” A low gruff voice said behind you. Heat burned up the back of your neck. There was no way in hell. You didn’t want to turn around..
“Think you dropped your dick.” Ghost said, then he walked past you, barely brushing past your shoulder.
🍝Soap:
Thud.
You weren’t entirely sure how it happened. Soap shoving you a touch too hard, you were running late this morning, you’d forgotten to get your packer strap. All the little things that culminated in the most mortifying event of your life.
Your packer slipping down your pant leg and hitting the floor.
Right in front of Soap.
Who had his arm around your shoulders.
His eyes flicked down. Surprise for just a second before the words came rolling off his tongue like a spray of bullets yo your chest.
“Nice cock.” He smirked
You glared at him.
“Fuck off.”
“Nae, I mean it.”
He paused. The smirk dropped and something softer settled in his expression.
“Wish I could’ve picked my size. Would’ve picked different I think.”
Dumbass.
🍝Gaz:
“No, im serious.” Gaz said leaning back. “Milk is fucking foul. Never liked it. Never will.”
Soap scoffed, “it’s jus’ milk, Gaz.”
“It’s not milk.” Gaz shot back. “Whole thing’s gross. Fucking cow water. Won’t catch me drinking it. Ever.”
You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, same.”
Shifting slightly. Shit your packer was sitting weird. You knew you shouldn’t have gone up a size in boxers. Fuck.
Gaz pointed at you. “See?! Thank you. Finally someone with common sense.”
Soap rolled his eyes. “Ye two are ridiculous. Milk is good. An’ good for ye.”
You widened your step, trying to adjust without drawing attention.
Gaz smirked wide. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Your packer hit the floor with a soft thud.
Silence.
You froze. Like a deer about to be run down.
Soap leaned forward, already grinning.
“Your dick could fall off.” Ghost said.
Gaz looked at you, his face ashen and in disbelief.
"Mate." Roach sighed.
"What." Gaz murmured, hands over his crotch.
"You remember he's trans right?"
"Oh...oh."
🍝Price:
You hadn't meant to do it. You had ordered a new packer strap. The last one was cheaper. But this one was a little different, and you hadn't tightened it all the way.
You stood, ready to make your weekly progress report for the team. Take intake for MREs, ammo. The usual. You felt it slip. Shit.
The room fell very quiet. Even Gaz and Soap shut up long enough to witness your packer rolling out of the leg of your pants. They would never let you live this down.
Price coughed, once. His face ruddy, and his eyes on anything in the room, but you.
"Sergeant. Pick your genitals up off the floor."
Poor guy. He almost looked more embarrased than you.
For my dear sweet 🌙 anon, who asked for a piece in which transmasc reader clarifies his pronouns with the boys.
cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort
word count: 1070
It’s in the kitchen that you gather the courage, “Can we try something?”
Four heads turn to you, sandwich assembly line quickly forgotten. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to speak up, your tummy is grumbling already. But you’ve started, so you should see it through.
“Good god, keep your pants on. This is serious,” you say, voice growing quiet, “And about me.”
The boys swarm around you, eyes burning and ready. Sitting at the table was supposed to let you watch them as they work on lunch, but their looming turns it almost ominous. The sounds of you cracking your fingers, which you tend to do when you’re nervous, does not go unnoticed.
Johnny chuckles, trying to keep the mood light, “Maybe shoulda phrased it a little differently, love.”
It took you forever to find the right dining table, one big enough to fit all of you and your plates. Days and weeks turned months as you scoured for the perfect one. But as they take their seats, it feels too small. The air is tight.
“Do you guys remember that talk we had? About gender and me maybe not feeling wholly like a woman?”
They lean towards you, further dwarfing the table, waiting for you to continue. Your belly feels like it’s boiling, tumbling with nerves. That conversation went well, so surely this one will too, right? If you take the time to look up at them, you’ll see their soft expressions. Simon hunches, blatantly trying to make himself smaller, as if wanting to create space for you to speak. Kind grins adorn Johnny and Kyle’s faces, remembering the conversation well and trying to be encouraging. John just looks proud. Silence breaks as you take a deep breath.
“I think I’m a guy,” you whisper.
Smiles spread, bodies still, waiting for more.
“I’m a guy,” you say louder, their grins coaxing yours out.
Kyle takes your hand in his, squeezing gently, “Watch out lads, I’ve got a boyfriend.”
What starts as a giggle soon overwhelms you, turning into a deep belly laugh and running tears down your cheeks. You cling hard to Kyle’s hand, wiping your face a little sloppy. It’s your first time saying it out loud, and there’s no way you could have predicted how fucking euphoric it would be. A spark’s been lit inside your chest, and you think that this must be what true happiness is. It feels so right, and Kyle’s immediate claim fuels you. Another deep sigh steadies you. The hard part is not quite over.
“I hope this doesn’t…” the words come out slowly, “Doesn’t change anything.” Your hand moves in a wide circle, gesturing at each of you.
Their bodies stiffen, caught off guard. Of everything you could have said, that was not what they expected. Worry melts their posture and brings their shoulders down to droop. John and Kyle exchange glances, failure written on their faces. If they’ve left room for this concern, they’ve clearly done something wrong. Johnny cocks his head, confused because why would that be a question?
When Simon speaks, he almost sounds exasperated, “We’re all men.”
“Yeah, but-”
“All men,” he cuts you off, eyes locked on yours, challenging you to try again. “Boyfriends, like Kyle said.”
“Boyfriends,” you repeat, grin back in place.
“Get to confuse the cashier at the grocery even more now,” he winks, relieved to see you smiling again.
A calm silence settles the room again and easy breathing can be heard from all of you. The sinking pressure is lifted from you, letting you bask in the moment. Everything is okay. Your world didn’t crumble. Boyfriends, they said. Sweat threatens to slip your hand from Kyles, making his grip tighten. The pride on John’s face is loud, his dimples growing more pronounced. Johnny drops his chin into his hands, elbows on the table, an impishness about him.
“Logistics,” he says, “Pronouns, please?”
“He/him,” your voice shy.
He cups his ear, “What? Didn’t catch that.”
“He/him,” you say, fullbodied.
Under the table, he squeezes your knee with support. If you weren’t sitting, you’d be squeezing the life outta them, cracking their backs with the force of your hugs. They didn’t even fucking take a beat to respond, they were so immediately onboard. Darling boys continue to bring warmth into your life, erasing your doubts. Though truthfully, it was the possibility of losing them that you were most scared about.
“Terms?” John asks.
You hesitate to respond, not having gotten quite this far just yet.
“Sweet boy?” he prompts.
Hearing it makes you gasp, your eyes widening and face burning. It hits sweet in your chest and the pleasure of it is visible. It’s the only confirmation John needs. Easing back into his chair, he crosses his arm with sweet satisfaction. The rest of the boys smirk, taking note, minds filling with more ideas.
Kyle has to clear his throat, and thoughts, before he speaks again, “Who do you want to include in this? How do you want to navigate it?”
“I’ve already told my doctors and it’s in my file,” you say proudly, and Johnny answers with excited whooping.
“He/him pronouns in public?” Kyle continues.
“Yes, please,” you eye your guard dogs. The four of them beam, chests swelling from knowing you have so much faith in their abilities to protect you, to keep you safe.
“Please tell us if there’s ever a situation in which you don’t feel safe doing so. We play by your word,” he swears.
You nod in response, his words spreading a new and lovely warmth through your body. They must have done some homework after that initial conversation, always wanting to be prepared. And it couldn’t be more fucking soothing. Air returns to the room, bringing in levity once more.
“Lovely lads all around,” Johnny looks at each of you, wicked joy painting his face, “What a lucky bastard I am.”
His toothy smile is infectious, catching the rest of you until your faces hurt from mirth. Of course they were amazing with this, they’ve put so much work into maintaining this relationship. All those late nights working through clarifications, the probing answers and check-ins. And they’re doing the same thing now, meeting you head on. And eager to boot. Sweet boys stay sweet.
“Well,” you say, giggles bubbling from your lips, “Your boyfriend is hungry, so yall best get lunch done.”
i wanna write a cod x transmasc reader fic where u just get spoiled a whole bunch and. thats it thats the plot 😞😞😞 i just wish i had the time these days 🥺 also itd have ddlb language because im a fREAK
cw: Gaz x reader, latine!reader, transmasc!reader, established relationship, bdsm dynamics, praise, spanish terms of endearment, reader's genitals are referred to as "cock," “dick,” and "pussy", oral & anal (Kyle receiving), please let me know if i've missed anything!
word count: 3958
“Repeat the rules back to me, please.”
“I move and you stop, hands to myself,” Kyle responds, each word breathier than the last.
“That’s right, mi vida,” you smile down at him, hand gently caressing the curve of his ass, light fingers trailing over the seam of where his thigh meets the plush of his cheeks. He can’t see you with his face buried into the bedding under him, his ass high in the air for you, but the honey in your voice is enough to have him arching deeper. “Always so beautiful, Kyle.”
His thighs tremble with the force of holding himself still, thick muscle twitching, and the sweat along his back glitters in the low light of the bedroom. You can hear him swallow loudly before he speaks, “You’ll undress too?”
Your hands continue to roam, keeping touches light to test his stillness, “Would you like me to?”
Kyle nods as eagerly as he can with his face crushed to the bed, hands flexing open and closed in concentration. You keep an eye on him as you shed your clothes, using the moment to also pull your box of equipment for the night from under the nightstand and onto the bed.
“So good, speaking up, telling me what you want,” the warmth of your words has him practically keening, his cock hanging heavy between his thighs. You reach down to give him a slow tug with your hand and his breathing stutters, precum blooming and dripping to stain the bed. He arches just a tiny bit deeper as he feels you position your body behind him, not enough for it to count as movement, but to present himself more fully to you. “Want to spoil you rotten,” you breathe into his skin as you nip at his ass, inching closer to his hole with open-mouth kisses.
You’ve only just started and already he’s so lost in the sensations, his body heaving with every breath, his lips parted for the little moans you pry from him. It’s a fucking blessing to have such a gorgeous man splayed out like this in front of you, and an even bigger gift to know he’s yours. Tonight, you’re determined to make him feel just how appreciated he is, how loved, how wanted.
“Color?” you pause, your mouth a hair’s breadth away from his sweet hole. The way it twitches makes your heart swell and your pussy drip.
“Green. Very green.”
You reward him with a slow lick, your tongue held broad against his flesh, and a guttural sound rips from his mouth. His cock is so hard you can feel the deep throb of it in your palm. When he quiets down a little, you give another lick. He shudders under you and this time you don’t wait for him to still. Lick after lick, your hand working his length, you take in every little sound Kyle makes. Every sigh, every whimper, every stuttered breath. You can’t help but smile against his skin, proud of the joy he’s getting out of this.
Once he’s pliant under you, his body rocking gently to keep pace with your mouth, you begin to push your tongue into him. Half a laugh escapes him, and he instinctively pushes against you for more. He’s too fucking delicious to be punished for it, so you let out a little hum against him, appreciating the way he grinds into your hand.
“Don’t need to hold back, sweetheart,” it comes out jumbled, but you don’t care, you just need to delve deeper into him with your tongue.
“Can’t,” his voice raw, “Wanna feel you.”
You move your hand to cup his balls, gently squeezing and tugging, “You will. Not stopping at one.”
With that, Kyle relaxes further into the bedding, inching his thighs further apart to give you more access. Again, you push deeper, thrusting into him with your thick tongue and only pulling back out to swirl and caress. The slick sounds of your hand on his cock only get louder with the spit running down from your mouth and all the precum he’s producing. It’s lovely, the wet clicking of your touch and the deepening moans falling from his mouth.
You feel him stiffen further, so close to orgasm, broken sobs bursting out of him. So when his hand reaches around to press your face deeper into him, you take the instruction. Pushing your tongue as deep as it will go, you focus on stroking him all the way through, reveling in the way the man jerks and trembles under you. Kyle is loud as he cums, his moaning long and drawn out, drowning in the feel of your hand on his cock and your tongue in his ass. His ears ring a little bit from the force of his orgasm, the world muted around him, his panting the only sound existing. You gently remove yourself from him, letting him collapse on his side, knees too weak to support him.
“Color?” your own voice rough as you lick your hand clean.
Kyle lays there for a moment, not saying a word, eyes zeroed in on your mouth and fingers, heavy breaths moving his chest.
“Kyle?”
“Green.”
“Thank you.”
He reaches for you, bringing you down to lay next to him. Taking care to cover the wet spot on the bedding with his own body, he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth in his glow. You cradle his head against your chest, peppering his forehead with kisses and compliments.
“Did so good. What a beautiful boy. So lovely and sweet.”
He melts against you, letting the quiet take over for a moment. It’s a pleasant near-silence you both inhabit, the only sounds coming from your ragged breathing and the quiet static of skin brushing against skin. A giggle escapes you when you notice he’s still hard.
“Ready for the next one?”
Kyle nods. His hand snakes down your side, over the curve of your hip, staring at your visibly hard cock, but you stop him before he can reach your pussy. You giggle again at the whimper he lets out.
“Tonight is about you, precioso. We’ll get there later.”
He looks up at you with such hopeful eyes that you can’t help but kiss him. Those sweet lips greet you eagerly, following your motions in adoration, tongue peeking out to seek yours. He groans at the taste, his chest rumbling with affection. He’ll never get enough of you, of the taste of you. And when it’s combined with his? It’s evidence of you two coming together, how could he not love it.
You break from his hold, your kisses drifting over his jaw and down the column of his throat. The quick little nips you give there have him gasping. With a dip to the side, you bring your mouth to the stretchmarks on his chest and shoulders, tracing the pattern with your lips, teeth gently scraping. Your path continues down, your tongue laving at the curve of his tits, mouth wrapping first around one nipple and then the other. You take your time there, sucking, biting, teasing with your tongue until you see his shaking hands flutter to clutch at the bedding, the stunted jerk of his hips rocking your body. His nipples are swollen and tender by the time you raise your head, and you can’t help but smile at him, reveling in his grunt as you reach up to roll his left nipple with your fingers.
“Such a wonderful boy.”
Following the lovely trail of hair, you make your way down his body, kissing and licking and biting, savoring the salt of his skin. A compliment sprouts from your lips each time he makes a sound because he’s so good, so pretty, taking all this love so well. Kyle can barely keep his hands to himself when your mouth reaches his hip, his fingers twisting into the bedding, the warmth of his panting breaths hitting you. You nuzzle into the dip of where his thigh meets his hip and bite at the lush fat of his body, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for him to wish you had. One of his hands lifts towards you, and you freeze as it comes closer. The pause is enough for him to remember, groaning as he pulls his hand back.
Kneeling between his legs, your elbows nudge at his knees to open wider, and he immediately obliges. You take a moment to look at him. He’s fucking stunning. His eyes are a little glazed over, moving over your body in anticipation. Those lips you love so much are swollen from your kisses, spit slick making them shine. All along his body, you can see little patches of raised bumps on his skin, temporary marks of where your teeth sunk in with love. His cock jerks at your attention, weeping precum. Little shivers wrack his body, the motion of his breathing making the sweat coating him glisten.
“How did I ever get so lucky?”
Before he can say anything, you bend to take Kyle’s length into your mouth, as deep as you can manage. A choked sound spills from him at the warmth of your mouth, his cock gently following the curve of your throat as you take him deeper. You lift up, gently suckling, to see a dreamy smile on his face. It doesn’t stay for long, his lips falling open with another moan as you continue to bob, tongue swirling around the tip every time you rise. Your hand wraps around the length you can’t reach, stroking in rhythm. When his thighs start quivering, you release him with a soft pop of your mouth, much to his dismay, please please please pouring from him.
“I got you, cariño.”
A quick reach into the box next to you and you’ve got lube to coat the fingers of your free hand. Kyle, knowing exactly where this is going, spreads his thighs even wider. Bringing his cock back to your mouth, you gently lick at the tip, refusing to waste a single drop. Your other hand moves lower, gently sinking a single finger into him. He stills, his breath catching, until you slowly start working your finger in and out of him.
You keep your mouth on him as you work him open, gently adding a second finger and then a third when he’s ready. His hands flutter at his sides, clearly struggling to keep them to himself. Each moan he releases, each gasp and choked breath, makes your pussy gush with need. You might be leaving a little wet spot of your own soon. But when you look up at him, his head thrown back against the pillow, his shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself back, you can’t seem to care about anything else.
When you finally feel he’s relaxed enough around your fingers, you curl them just a fraction, brushing against his prostate and making his hips jerk. You press a little harder and he clenches around you, his hips bucking up, thrusting deeper into your mouth. He mutters out broken apologies as you repeat the motion over and over again, unable to control his body anymore. You’d tell him his apologies aren’t necessary, that he’s free to take as much as he wants, but you’re too focused on sucking, giving his needy slit extra attention.
Reluctantly, you release him, the wet smack of his cock hitting his belly loud in the room. He lets out a long whine as you gently ease your fingers out of him.
“Color?”
His answer is immediate and breathless, “GREEN.”
You can’t keep the smile from your face as you reach into the box again, this time pulling out your hand harness and the small blue dildo he loves so much, curved to hit his prostate. The smile Kyle throws at you in response is devastating, eyes soft and his bottom lip snagged on his tooth as he bites it. Strapping the harness into place, you straddle his thigh for a better angle. His eyes widen as you take your seat on his thigh, the position allowing him to feel just how wet you are for him, your cock throbbing against him. You wink at him, coating the dildo with a generous amount of lube.
You move slowly as you push the dildo into him, pausing every couple of seconds to let him adjust. Your other hand continues to work his length from root to tip, slipping down every now and then to cradle his balls as you know he likes. His hips rock the smallest amount, trying to take more, and you can’t find it in yourself to mention it. He’s been so good, so patient, he deserves to feel good. Once the toy is fully seated in him, your fingers curling beneath him, your blunt nails biting into the swell of his ass, you pause so you can both catch your breath.
Kyle cups your jaw with one hand, turning you to face him, “I’m okay.”
He strokes your lips, slipping his thumb into the warmth of your mouth. You suckle eagerly, rewarding him with a thrust of your hand, your wrist moving to make sure you hit his prostate. His whole body jolts with pleasure, your first couple of tentative thrusts hitting all the right spots. You know you’ve set the perfect pace when he lifts his hands to tease his nipples. Keeping your motions steady, you watch him writhe beneath you, his back arched in ecstasy, his head tossing from one side to the other, his tummy covered in the precum leaking out of him. One last check in and he replies with a chant of greengreengreen. You could cum untouched at the sight of him.
You scoot a little lower and bend, your mouth at his cock again, tongue running up the underside before allowing yourself to fully take him into your mouth. When you wrap your lips around him, you feel a hand come to rest lightly on the back of your head. He doesn’t push you or hold you, he just wants to follow the rhythm you’ve set, hand and mouth moving in tandem. Riding it out, he does his best to hold on, not wanting this to end even as you push him higher and higher towards a blinding orgasm. You glance at him quickly only to find him already searching for eye contact, unrestrained moans erupting from him. A grin breaks out on Kyle’s face as he lifts his knee to grind it against your soaked pussy, the pressure making you groan around his cock in your mouth and grind your dick against him. You both buck into each other, the sensations heightened.
“Dámelo, mi amor,” voice whiney, practically begging him for his cum.
He tenses at your words, you can feel him clenching down on the toy in your hand, his balls drawing up tight in warning. His grunts grow sharper, clearly holding himself off to make this last just a little longer. With a tiny twist to your wrist, you have his mouth falling open. You take him deeper into your mouth with a hard suck, and that’s all he needs. His cum floods your mouth, threatening to spill out the corners with how much he’s releasing, but you’re not wasting a drop. You’ve worked for this, you’re swallowing it all. You keep both your hand and mouth moving as he grips your shoulder to keep you from pulling away. You follow your orders, not withdrawing until he’s hissing with oversensitivity.
Easing away slowly, you drop one last sweet kiss on the head of his cock. Kyle waits until you put your equipment aside to maneuver you over him, sitting up to wrap you in his arms and plant a heady kiss on your lips. You eagerly welcome his tongue, knowing he’s searching for traces of himself, loving the taste of his cum in your mouth. As his breathing evens out a little, and yours quickens with the intensity of the kiss, you break apart.
“Good?” a little bit of self-consciousness creeps into you.
“Heavenly,” he replies in between the kisses he leaves all over your face.
Encased in this bubble of intimacy, you both soothe each other for a while, hands lovingly running over skin, love-struck chuckles bursting out every now and then. Eyes lock a couple times as a check-in, joyful grins serving as affirmative answers. This could be the perfect end to the night, but Kyle has other ideas.
His touches, as calming as they are tracing patterns on your skin, wander lower. One of his hands makes it down to gently cup you. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that he doesn’t have to do anything, but a sharp hunger in his eyes silences you before you speak.
“This is still for me,” his tone possessive as he slides his fingers between your folds. “So fucking wet, so hard, just for me.”
You can’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. You’ve been dying to feel his touch this entire time, and now that you have it, it’s rendered you silent.
Kyle smiles down at you, fully aware of what he’s doing, “Gotta work you open, tesoro. So you can take all of me.”
He strokes your cock between his fingers for a moment, enjoying the way you thrust against him before shifting to slide a single finger into you, and your eyes flutter closed. You start panting almost immediately, tongue darting out to keep your lips from drying. Watching you with rapt attention, he works another thick finger into your pussy, feasting on each twitch of your body. His hand is drenched in your juices when he finally adds a third finger, the loud squelching splitting his face with a boyish grin.
He bends his wrist a fraction, bringing the heel of his palm to press against your dick, and you all but fall apart in his hands. You chant a soft don’t need it, don’t need it even as you grind into his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders. The grip he has on your hip is nothing short of encouraging, adding to the momentum of your rocking. You feel like he’s barely touched you and still your whimpering grows louder, your body too worked up from the pleasure you’ve given him. This is meant to be about him, and yet he’s whispering in your ear that he needs it, that’s right grind that sweet little cock against him, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder. That possessive marking sets you off. The fragile thread in you snaps, spreading a tortuous heat through your body, cumming so hard that your pussy clenches down on Kyle’s fingers and nearly locks you into place. Still, he keeps moving and curling his fingers as best he can, drawing out your orgasm until you’re trying to flee from his touch.
“Thank you,” he says, placing little kisses on your cheek, “I needed that.”
You playfully shove at him and stick your tongue out, laughing at his silliness and lifting yourself off him. He quickly sneaks his fingers into his mouth, eyes closed tight as he practically growls at the taste of you. His cheeks hollow with the intensity of how he sucks your juice off his hand, his palm smearing the rest onto his chin. He wants to make a comment about needing to suck you off directly, but his mouth is too full to talk around.
Reluctantly, you break his private moment, “Still good for another?” You gently grasp his cock, hard again at the taste of your pussy, and give a tentative stroke.
He hisses, bucking immediately into your hand, “Won’t last long.”
“Don’t need to. Just gotta fill me up,” your strokes growing more confident.
His hands come down on your hips and he practically wrestles you into place on top of him again, eyes dark and focused, but he restrains himself a little as you pull back. You motion him to sit higher on the bed, help him settle so he can lean against the headboard comfortably.
One last check in and green has you sinking down onto his cock, your pussy almost unbearably tight around him. He twitches inside you, and choked sobs ring from both of you as you try to adjust, his hands gripping tight at the plush of your hips, keeping you locked in place. You wrap your arms around his neck, blindly pulling him into a kiss with too much teeth but it’s too fucking good to stop. The press of his bush against your swollen dick has you moving, needing the friction. With Kyle’s help, you rock back and forth against him, keeping him nestled deep inside of you and still giving you both the motion you need.
You don’t know exactly for how long you stay in that position, hips rutting and sweat pooling, your chests pressed to each other, breaths shared through open mouths. It’s too good to stop. Every time you pull your hips back you can feel his cock brush against yours, and you’d kill before letting yourself lose that. He’s of the same mind, dragging your hips back and forth as he leaves a trail of bites along your neck and shoulder. But the pleasure is quickly building in you both, and you know what he needs.
Without breaking your stride, you lean back enough to create space between you. A deep sound rumbles in Kyle’s chest in protest, but it dies when you slide two fingers into his mouth and press down on his tongue. He immediately devotes himself to coating them with spit, unsure of where it’s going but too excited to ask. When he’s done enough, you reach between your bodies to circle his nipple with your wet fingers. He jerks with a curse, hips moving involuntarily. You keep at it, pinching and rolling his nipple, moving to the other one for equal attention. His pace picks up, taking over your movements and rocking you against him. You bring your mouth to his ear, just enough to reach and not disrupt his rhythm, to whisper praise into his ear, tan lindo, tan dulce, taking such good care, taking you so well, what a perfect boy. Using the honed strength of his arms, Kyle stops your rocking and instead lifts you to bounce on his length, his hips rising to meet yours as he cums deep inside. He moans into your neck and reaches down to place his knuckles on either side of your cock, quickly jerking. This time he’s the one speaking, need this, need this, cum for me. His thumb gently brushes against the head of your dick and that’s all it takes. You writhe in his arms, and he bites into you again as he feels you pulsate around him, stroking you through your orgasm.
Neither of you can bear to move as you catch your breath, soaking in the affection clear on both of your faces. You can even feel his smile as he kisses your forehead. You kiss every part of him you can reach, savoring as much as you can. The sweat on your bodies starts to cool when you finally break apart.
“Thank you for letting me do this tonight,” you tell him, noticing his eyes are starting to droop with sleep just as yours are. You cup his face and bring him in for a sweet kiss.
“Si algún día llego a decirte que no, corta conmigo de inmediato.” he says, the seriousness of his stare belying his laughter.
One week post hysterectomy and you're ready to pull out your hair and theirs. Ale and Rudy can help.
cw: poly!141 x transmasc latine!reader, established relationship, mexican slang, spanish-speaking reader
word count: 1620
You don’t often have to remind yourself how much you love your partners, how you cherish them, because it comes so naturally. But with the hovering and the near constant check-ins and the way they won’t let you even walk on your own, you have to recite a mantra about it so you don’t pull out your own hair.
“Yall realize that 6-8 weeks of recovery does not mean 6-8 weeks of being bed bound, right?”
John is almost too quick to answer, “Hasn’t even been a full week yet. You need to take it slow.”
“None of you ever take it this slow when you’re injured.”
“None of us have to deal with that major of a surgery usually.”
There’s plenty of pillows around you, you can chuck one at his head without it affecting your posture. You spend a second looking for the right one to throw, but the pillows John bought you are slightly bigger than what you can currently lift. Motherfucker has the gall to grin at you, proud of himself.
Needing to at least exit the room, you wiggle around in the nest of pillows as much as you can without hurting yourself. A too hard lunge makes you gasp and Simon appears at your side, reaching in with strong arms to pull you free from the tender trap. You sit him down once you’re on your feet, motioning for him to stay there. You can make the walk to the bathroom. You should make the walk to the bathroom. You need to make the walk to the bathroom.
“Remember not to strain yourself,” he calls from the bed, edge in his voice making it clear that he’s only barely able to stay where you left him.
Any other time, any other one of them, you’d be turning and mocking them with an “okay mom.” In fact, you still want to with all the careful tiptoeing, but when you turn and find those big brown eyes full of soft concern, the anger dissipates. Simon is in uncharted waters, feeling helpless and clinging to what he can do for you. His hands clutch the bedding under him, knuckles turned white.
You answer him softly, “I will Moncho, thank you.”
As silent as he is, you know he’s standing outside the door the moment you close it, waiting for your call should you need him. It’s usually not a problem, but having to swear to no locked doors for the foreseeable future makes you move carefully in the bathroom. The last thing you need right now is to grunt a little too loudly and scare Simon.
“You know you don’t all have to stay housebound, right?” you try to keep your tone friendly as you open the door. “Yall can take turns stepping out for groceries or snacks.”
“Everything delivers now, love,” Kyle sounds a little too smiley for your liking right now.
“I just don’t want yall to get bored, cooped up.”
Johnny’s laughter drifts in from the kitchen, “Please, we’d stay home every day if we could. Delighted we can now.”
There has to be fucking something. They’re sweet, they’re lovely. The surgery and recovery would be impossible without them. But there has the be some fucking way to not have all eyes on you every minute of every day. You ease back into the plush nest made for you, trying to drum something up. Thankfully, the sound of the doorbell saves you from spiraling deeper into your frustration.
“Damn, yall really did order everything for delivery.”
Johnny sprints for the door, excitement in his eyes, “This might be one of the things we ordered for you specifically.”
Swear to god, if they ordered more of those impossible compression socks, they’re never gonna hear the end of it. At least it’s been a good day. You’ve got clean sheets and bedding, you showered with little to no pain (Simon insisted on joining you to help), and the incision sites are healing well. The bladder pain you could do without, though.
“Special delivery,” a new voice sings. Two?
“Ale! Fito!” you surge forward to stand, but too many men shouting in protest sits you back down. “What are yall doing here?”
They make their way through the pillows to greet you properly, facial hair rasping against your cheek. Thank fuck for that shower earlier. Can’t be too mad about this being orchestrated now.
Ale smiles bright, plopping down next to you, “Un pajarito medio nalgón-”
“Cuatro,” Rudy interrupts, taking a seat much more gently, “Cuatro pajaritos bastante nalgones.”
“Simón, Simón. Cuatro nos pidieron un favor.”
“We did say ‘special delivery’.”
They each place a white box in front of you. No labels or tape, just folded closed gently. The folded pieces bloom open in their hands, revealing a giant ziploc bag full of lots of little somethings in each. You can make out little star and flower shapes, all coated in a clumping white powder.
“Are these my tía’s cookies?”
Ale sucks his teeth, wrapping an arm around you, “Clarín cornetas, mi niño.”
“Which of you did she flirt with?”
“Both,” Rudy chuckles, “We got that bordertown charm.”
It’s then that you remember your tía’s bordertown and their bordertown are on opposite sides of Texas. Not only did they have to deal with her shameless flirting for who knows how long, sweet fools must have gone so far out of their way to get these. And the sheer care they must have put into the transportation. These cookies are frail and yet so few of them are broken. They even accounted for the lard used in them, little ice packs peek out from underneath the large ziploc bags. Tears blur your vision, their voices going out of focus as they give you updates on your family.
“There is one condition though,” Rudy hands you a tissue. “One bag is for you, and the other is for them to share.”
Johnny comes running in from the kitchen again, “Wait, just one for all four of us?”
“That’s what Tití said.”
“Fuck, I really thought she liked us,” Johnny stands completely still for a minute, clearly reviewing the interactions they’ve had with your tía in his mind, cookies forgotten.
Kyle takes their bag, diving into it immediately and coating his chin in the powdered sugar falling from the cookie. It doesn’t take long for the other 3 to converge around the bag after that. They’ve only had these cookies once before, at your youngest cousin’s quince, which was full of too many “so exactly how are you related?” questions. Your tía says she saves them for special occasions, but you know that the labor that goes into making them is too much for the cookies to be in regular rotation. Either way, they’re a true gift. Your cousins must have helped her this time, the start and flower shapes are just off enough to not fit into your tía’s perfectionism. It won’t take a whole lot of convincing to get Simon to use his fancy calligraphy to write them a thank-you note.
“We were also promised grilled goods upon arrival?” Ale speaks loudly over the cookie commotion.
John perks up at that, faint surprise on his face.
Kyle makes an excited noise around a mouthful of cookie, speaking from the corner of his mouth, “Right, and we’ve got everything set for the chef.” He wrangles John towards the backyard.
Simon looks worried as Johnny approaches him, clearly meaning to take him to the backyard as well. He’s been firmly by your side since they brought you home from the hospital. He looks over at you, tracing your figure slowly, double-checking every inch of you. Taking a deep breath, he stiffens.
“We’ll look after your boy,” Rudy says softly.
“Aquí te espero, amor.”
He nods, your words enough to ease him through the door.
With all the prep before the surgery, a couple of really intense weeks where you all worked to prime the house for recovery, this is the first chance you’ve gotten to exist without them being in the same room. And it’s so fucking nice. You couldn’t ask for better partners, but it’s almost relieving to not have to worry about accidentally setting one of them off and launching them into motherhenning. Rudy and Ale have clearly been given the task of looking after you, but even just having new faces to talk to is refreshing.
“Which one of them set this up?” you ask them.
“It was less a request and more a suggestion from us,” Rudy says.
“Bien los conocemos,” Ale adds. “Te quejas, pero bien chiple que te tienen.”
You grin, not even trying to deny it.
It’s muted, but the sounds of the boys chatting drifts into the room. Some back and forth about marinating and time, some laughing about sneaking around. You can’t quite see them from your window, but it’s reassuring to know that this time is helping them relax as well.
Ale and Rudy tell you more about their trip to visit your tía, passing along the greetings and well wishes your family sent you. It’s an easy rhythm: one talks, the other corrects, and you get to giggle as you listen. Then you swap: you talk, Ale listens, Rudy shushes him. It’s soothing in a way that reminds you so much of home, the ruckus everywhere and laughter echoing. When the tension in your shoulders has finally slipped away, Ale turns to you, curious and serious.
“So about this recovery period,” he says.
“And a grueling schedule before the surgery?” mischief lights Rudy’s eyes.
You groan, their cackling drowning out the sound of you swatting at their chests.
The white boys don't know how to deal with the sun.
cw: poly 141 x latine transmasc!reader, established relationship, mexican slang, suggestive, mention of reader's "titties" but not op specific
word count: 1593
You did warn them. And they did seem to listen. But maybe because of their jobs they’ve come to underestimate the little things every now and then.
It’s their first time visiting your hometown and you very clearly warn them as yall step out to lounge in the patio, “Aguas con el sol.”
Kyle smiles, already knowing what’s to unfold, as the others huff a chorus of it’s not that hot and a little sun can’t hurt and I’ll be alright. The heat has the white boys in less clothes than you’ve ever seen them leave the house in. The shorts are short, just enough to loosely cover the important parts. Shirts are so stained with sweat that they’ve just been tossed off, sweat left to glisten untouched, all their freckles on proud display. It’s fucking delicious, you can’t argue that. Even Kyle can’t help but drool a little, helping you wipe your own mouth with a chuckle.
“Boys, you need sunscreen,” you tell them before they get too far. They look back, the three of them pointing at themselves in surprise. Reluctantly, they each thoroughly cover their legs.
Kyle speaks up, helping you lure them back, “Will you put it on for us?”
At your nod, Johnny is jumping to your side, his smile so wide his tail would wag if he had one. You try to be gentle, wanting to make this cute, but he’s so wiggly that you end up roughly slathering him up.
“Done?”
“Are you in that much of a hurry to lay in the kiddie pool?” You already know the answer. In fact, he’s out of your hands before you can even rub the sunscreen into his skin, wide swaths of lotion bright against his skin.
Simon steps into your space before you can try to catch Johnny, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “Me next?”
You wave Kyle over to help you cover this gentle giant, making sure to cover the tattoos on his arms well. Simon melts into your arms, all but purring as he closes his eyes to focus on the feel of your hands roaming his body. Kyle’s hands come around to Simon’s front, fingers kneading his hefty tits, lingering to pinch and rub at his nipples. You kiss the back of Kyle’s hand and the big man lets out a soft grunt. Pulling the front of Simon’s body to yours, you reach down his back, hand sliding slightly into his shorts to grab at his ass. You can feel his heartbeat kick up against you. Gently, both you and Kyle pull away a little, back to taking your job seriously.
“You’ll have to reapply a little sooner than the rest.”
Eyes hazy, you know Simon is a little too far gone to fully hear you. He just nods and finds his way to one of the lounging chairs. You and Kyle share a look, knowing you’ll have to keep an eye on him.
When John steps up to you and Kyle, he already has white streaks of sunscreen on his body, “Thought you two could help me rub it in properly.”
The two of you easily slot into place. You take his back, using the slick of the lotion to help you give his wide shoulders a massage, staying there until it’s all worked into his skin. Kyle goes directly for his tits too, but a raised eyebrow from John keeps him from any teasing. Instead, Kyle uses the chance to grab at his arms, squeezing along the way, making John lift his arms and pose. You grab at his belly as you cover it in sunscreen, hands greedy for the feel of his body, your smiling mouth pressed against his back. When you try to follow the trail of hair, he stops your hand.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
You and Kyle both let out a quick disappointed sigh as he saunters away to join the other two. What could have been. You find some solace in each other, helping one another with hard to reach spots and traveling hands. He helps you with your legs, smooth circles inching higher and higher up your inner thigh, loving the way his fingers dig into the soft fat. The grin on his face sharp as your breaths quicken. You shove your hands into his shorts, following the waistline of them from one hip, around his back, and to the other. He arches into your hand, trying to move his body towards it so you’ll touch him, cock straining against the fabric.
Kyle pauses for a moment, hands holding the hem of the crop top you’re wearing, “It’s just us and it’s a closed space. Do you want to?”
“I don’t think I want my titties out directly in the sun. But thank you for asking.”
“Alright, sweet boy,” he kisses your forehead, “pero dime si cambias de opinión. I can help you with your sunscreen again.”
Giggling and swatting at each other, you join the other boys, ready to spend your evening doing nothing for once.
The next morning is quiet. You meet Kyle in the kitchen, helping set up the table for the chilaquiles he went out early for. But the rest of the house is unusually silent. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you call out for them. Slowly, they shuffle down the stairs in tiny shorts, bodies stiff and limbs barely bending.
“Did you guys slee-” there’s no point in finishing once you see them.
Simon’s pink all over. It’s not too deep of a hue, but it is absolutely all over, a stark contrast against the freckles and moles covering his body. He winces as he bends his arm to wave, the crease of his elbow tight. He doesn’t say a word as he sits at the table, worried about the sounds he’ll make if he opens his mouth. The least he can do is wait until the food is served, then maybe everyone else will be too busy to notice the sad whimpers coming from him. You and Kyle exchange worried glances, trying to remember how often Simon reapplied his sunscreen. He must have brushed aside the heat gathering on his tattoos.
“Trajimos bastante sábila, yeah?” you ask Kyle, and you know he’s worried even as he nods.
John doesn’t look so bad when he comes down. Everything seems to be fine with him, skin glowing with a golden touch that wasn’t there before. Honestly, it makes him look that much more delectable. He moves without hurting, taking the plates from your hands to help finish setting up the table. Ultimately, it’s his silence that gives him away, calling your attention from his body back up to his face. His nose is peeling, the freckles around his eyes sharply outlined in red, the apples of his cheeks rosier than you’ve ever seen them.
“Are you that happy to see us, cariño?” Kyle immediately teases him. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered.”
John’s face goes darker as he truly blushes and you both blow him kisses. Then Johnny comes down and it knocks the wind from the room.
This has to be one of the worst consequences of his impatience. In his rush to settle and have some fun, he didn’t rub the sunscreen into his skin. At all. He has patches of golden skin, matching where you remember the white of the lotion adorning his body, and in between them, large streaks of angry red. You can clearly see the outline of your fingers where you started to apply the lotion before he ran off. The curve of his shoulders is glossy from how tight the skin is from the burn, the freckles adorning his skin darkened by the almost purple tone. The center of his chest, the middle of his back, and almost his entire stomach are practically radiating heat. He doesn’t speak, standing in front of you and Kyle in absolute misery.
“I kinda wanna smack it,” you whisper to Kyle.
He chuckles, matching your volume, “Think we can leave handprints on it?”
Johnny’s eyes widen and he drops into the chair furthest from you, clearly hearing you both. He keeps readjusting, unable to find a comfortable position in which the vinyl cover of the seat won’t pull at his skin. The room is silent save for the crinkling coming from the chilaquiles, the brown paper package adjusting to the heat of the food.
“What is the first rule of taking care of tortilla boys?” you ask them, words coated in disappointment.
“Don’t die.”
“Come home.”
“Drink water.”
Kyle is already bubbling with a laugh, “Those are good rules, but you all know better.”
They look down, mumbling under their breaths, pushing at the tableware in front of them.
“Louder,” you sound a little too much like a parent with that word.
“Don’t let the tortillas burn,” they say at once.
“And what did you do?”
“Let the tortillas burn.”
With that, you dish out the food and pull Kyle further into the kitchen with you, “Do you think they know why we call them that?”
He throws his head back and laughs, loud and from deep in his belly, and it sets off your own laughter. A minute full of cackling passes, both of you clenching at your bellies and backs, mirth so forceful you feel it in your bodies. You each wipe away tears and find the three white boys staring at you, confused.
cw: poly!141 x transmasc!reader, established relationship, complex gender feelings, comfort
word count: 1036
A/N: An immense thank you to @mikichko for having my back and encouraging me with this. Some shit got worked out and it couldn't have happened without her love and support <3
“It’s the potential for disappointment that scares me.”
You lay spread out on the couch in the living room and four sets of eyes turn to you. Simon and Kyle, already sitting nearby, inch closer and you welcome it. They’ve got your head propped up by the softness of Kyle’s thigh, your feet and lower legs resting on Simon’s lap, by the time Johnny and Price come in from the kitchen, lunch prep abandoned. Avoiding their unspoken pleas for eye contact, you turn your head and half bury your face in the warmth of Kyle’s belly.
“What are we talking about here?” Johnny’s worry evident.
“Packers,” Kyle explains softly, tracing your features with his fingers.
A little out of it, Johnny turns to Price for further explanation who simply grabs at his own crotch instead of speaking. Johnny nods, quickly back in the loop. He takes a seat on the couch arm, pressing close against Kyle. John settles on the floor, kneeling at your side. You all want to say something, move and offer your seat to him, to spare his knees, but the huff he gives warns that this is not the time.
“And what would the disappointment be?” he gets straight to it.
“I wouldn’t feel it.”
“You’d feel the heft of it, the pressure of your clothes,” Kyle offers.
Johnny follows up quickly, “Change the way you walk and sit too, feel the motions.”
“But I wouldn’t feel it. On me, sure. Against my body, yeah. It would change how I maneuver, but I wouldn’t be able to feel through it. I’m scared it will be a painful reminder of what isn’t.”
John gently cuts through, “Do you want what isn’t?”
You don’t have to deliberate over your response, “No, I’m happy with my growth.”
“So are we,” Kyle winks down at you, Johnny nodding along with a wicked grin.
You chuckle, easing open from the full-body curl you hid in, Simon’s hand squeezing your calf with encouragement. As much as concern might be pinching their faces, all the boys’ bodies are soft in that moment. They all lean towards you, engulfing you with their support, attentive gazes watching every move and response. It’s startling to think they can see so much of you, see through you, but it just envelops you in a nest of safety.
“Then it’s sensation,” John tries again. He eases back a bit when you nod, can’t help but feel a little successful as you open up.
Johnny’s eyebrows scrunch, “But you love the strap.”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“How so?”
“It just is.”
“But you can’t feel that either.”
“I know that.”
The back and forth isn’t very long, but your rising frustration is evident. Just as you’re about to get up to take a break from the conversation, Simon speaks, big, brown eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability of his own.
“Is it because the packer would be specifically for you and not something to be directly used for someone else or their pleasure? Because it would be for you and how you feel and you’re worried how that might detract from any perception of the ‘usefulness’ of it, and that makes you feel selfish?”
Your tears answer him, your throat too choking full of emotion to do anything other than let them fall silently. Your fingers scramble across your body to take his hand, and he meets you with an almost terrifying force, his grip locking you into place as he bends closer to you.
His eyes remain fixed to yours as he speaks, voice rumbling from his tears, “You deserve to have your needs met. All of them. They do not have to be convenient or in any way beneficial to others. They are your needs, and that makes them important. Doesn’t matter what they are, we will meet them.”
You pull him down against you as your breath finally breaks into a sob, drowning yourself in the warm weight of his body. You can hear him sniffle by your ear, his tears wet your temple. Wrapping your arms around him, comforting him with every little touch, you repeat thank you’s into his skin.
Kyle stirs and you look up to see the other three boys. John’s face is serious as his speaks, wide shoulders set straight, eyes sharp. Kyle and Johnny take in every word, their posture rigid and familiar as they listen to their instructions. You can’t quite hear what they say over the roaring in your ears, but when John looks down at you with a smile, you know to trust their actions.
After a couple of minutes of what must be questions and suggestions floating between the three, your breathing eases, as does Simon’s. He slowly peels himself from you, still staying within your reach, and you sit to properly clean yourself up with the tissues Kyle hands you.
John turns to you, his tone firm, “You want to try.” You nod again and he smiles, shoulders dropping into a more relaxed pose, his voice softer this time, “Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”
“Yes, I want to try.”
“Good. That’s all we need to know. Johnny will look into the packers and Kyle will find the appropriate wear for them. I know you’ve been wanting a jock strap for a while now,” there’s a hungry spark in his eyes and your face burns at his words. Trust him to remember that detail. Still, the fact that they’re willing to take on that work, to alleviate the stress and frustration and potential overwhelm of looking through options, makes your heart glow.
“They’ll bring you what they find so you can take your pick, at least this first time.”
You turn towards them and they meet you with smiles, eyebrow waggling in an excessive show of giddiness, but you can see a sincere eagerness to help clear on their faces.
“Simon stays here, you two cozy up while I finish dinner. After we eat, we’ll come back here so the boys can show us their findings on the big screen.”
You startle a bit, “Oh, this is happening tonight?”
John shrugs, smile bright and wide, “Think of it as dessert.”
I wrote this after having my own little pity party about my meds but then I was like, you know what? Price would never
cw: Price x transmasc!reader, established relationship, medical aspects of transitioning, reader's genitals referred to as "pussy" and "cock"
word count: 732
You’ve been at it for a while, sweaty and angry from so many failed attempts. You’ve tried squatting, you’ve tried laying on your back, you’ve tried laying on your side, and still you can’t seem to be able to get the right angle. Having to take these vaginal estrogen tablets is already a pain in sticking to the schedule and going out to get them and just knowing that it’s something you’ll have to stick to for the foreseeable future. All the scraping and poking and prodding only makes things worse. You know you need your dose tonight, but at this point your hands are too slippery from sweat to hold onto the tiny applicator. And you’re far too angry to trust the force of your hands. You have to ask John for help.
John knows about these tablets. You explained early on what they were and what you needed them for. He has, however, never seen the actual application. Including him into your testosterone routine has been a dream. It’s reassured you both about your connection. Your weekly shots have turned into quiet comfort, the intimidating nature of the injections soothed by John’s care. For him, they’ve become moments of worship, where he can demonstrate his love for every part of you, just as you are. It’s really solidified for you how he sees you. You know you shouldn’t worry about the tablet, and you try to hold onto that as you call him to the bedroom.
He’s at the door in seconds, his face shifting from slight concern to unfiltered delight. Leaning against the doorframe, he takes in the sight of you on the bed, bare from the waist down, legs wide open and a bit out of breath.
“Is this for me?” his voice a rumble.
You huff and lift the little pink applicator straight into the air so he can see it, “I keep scraping myself and I can’t get deep enough.”
“I’ve never had that issue.”
“Nevermind,” you start to rise, but he’s easing you back with a gentle laugh.
“Give it here.”
You eye him skeptically, “It has to sit to dissolve. No funny business.”
“No funny business,” he swears.
A moment later, you’re handing him the applicator, opening your legs further. It looks so small in his hand, barely a fraction of the size of his fingers. Damn. John catches your stare and wiggles his fingers, proud of himself. You smile back at him, rolling your eyes, and the world feels right again. He positions himself between your legs, muscle memory guiding him. Still, he can see your hands pushing down against your tummy, a motion he’s seen you make when you’re trying to self-soothe.
“Countdown or surprise?” he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, not moving until he feels you relax into the sheets.
“Countdown, please.”
His hands move quickly and easily, no corrections or suggestions needed. You smile down at him as he removes the applicator, and it helps him breathe again. As skilled as he is, as confident as he is when it comes to knowing your body, there’s still always the chance he might hurt you. John lays his head against your thigh in relief. Your hand through his hair has his eyes fluttering closed, nuzzling further into the softness of your skin.
Before you can inhale to thank him, he surges up and wraps his lips around your tdick in a kiss, giving a pleased hum.
“JONATHAN.”
He lifts his head with a soft pop, eyes wide in mock shock.
“You said no pussy. Fine. Didn’t say anything about this sweet little cock.”
Your legs snap closed, and he crawls on top of you. To think you were concerned about this man. You should have known better. John’s grin is nothing short of devilish as he slowly eases his weight onto you. Using the weighted blanket approach will earn him some points and he knows it. You cradle his head as he buries his face into your neck, gratitude washing over you. The sheer luck of finding the man, of him loving you, will never stop astonishing you. You’re melting into the quiet of the moment when he shifts.
“John. Are you hard right now?”
“How could I not be? With such a gorgeous boy in my arms,” he speaks into skin.
You really should have known better.
AN: Don't let fucking ANYBODY make you feel bad about what you have to do to keep yourself physically and mentally healthy. Everyone's gender journey looks different.
The tablets referred to here are vaginal estrogen tablets. HRT will often cause atrophy in your genitals, so depending on what you want, you might have to take an additional set of hormones for the desired result. Your body and intimacy are yours, and there is no baseline requirement for what transness is. I love yall <3
