#cw feminization

[rawme-price]

After the gunshot then subsequent surgeries and healing, soap isn't able to drive anymore, right?

It's stupid, and he feels like a teen asking his older friends for rides whenever he has to text someone because he needs to be someplace farther than a thirty minute walk. No one says it, but soap can tell they get tired of driving him to the shops.

Well...everyone except you that is.

You love to have soap in your car, or at least soap thinks you do. He doesn't understand why until he brings up his worries about being a burden and you scoff with a glance to his side "what? You're like my passenger princess, johnny. I'm not letting a pretty thing drive himself."

Which...that comment definitely shouldn't make soaps face burn tomato red. He used to be so good at maintaining a straight face.

You glance at him again, then bark out a laugh at his flush. "Oh? You like that, johnny?" A hand leaves the steering wheel, lands heavy on his knee "you like being my eye candy? Hm?"

Soap can only squeak in embarrassment. His dick, which he thought lost function after the gunshot with all the good it did him, jerked to life. "Jesus, dove." He scrubs a palm over his face "don't play like that."

You raise your brows and let your hand creep up to his inner thigh. Soaps lost some of the muscle definition you remember seeing in the gym last year, and a delicious layer of fat has taken it's place. You knead it just to feel soap jerk in his seat, "not playin' johnny. You look damn nice sat in my car, relying on me for a ride. so cute when you thank me, too."

"...really?" Soap asks, voice high and tight with tension as your pinky grazes over his crotch. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from humping your palm.

"Yeah. Really." This time, soap can't stop the moan he lets out when you fully cup him, rubbing the heel of your palm against his clothed erection. "Why don't you give me a show, princess? Entertain me, hm?"

Soaps never shoved his pants down so fast.

The fact that you pull over to make him lick up the cum on your dashboard really cements the fact. Soap is your passenger princess, and he's delighted at the fact.

[ilyarizzanov]

when you experience internalized homophobia and unrequited love for your straight best friend you may or may not develop kinks or fantasies you are not that proud of… one of the hottest things for me is a roleplay where the top is straight (or at least doesn’t admit being anything else) but fucks the bottom while watching porn because a hole is a hole. if that is something you can work with just know that there it at least one person who will get horned up because of it.

thank you for this. my mind ran away, i'm so sorry.

--

Pretty: A Hollanov Ficlet

rating: e | wc: ~1880 | tags: college!au, anal, feminization, “straight” ilya, discovering things about yourself by fucking your gay best friend, sex while watching porn (kinda), slight degradation, blink and you'll miss it breeding kink, One Spank, feminization of shane’s asshole (she's a pussy with she/her pronouns)

--

“You said you'd do anything.”

Shane swallows visibly, the saliva twitching his Adam’s apple as it goes down. “I know.”

“So is this your limit? You’ve wanted this for five years and this is your limit?”

Shane nibbles his lower lip, toying with the hem. “I didn’t say it was a limit.”

Ilya looks his best friend up and down, a hand sliding around the plumpness of his ass, beneath the gingham skirt and over the lace biting into his cheeks. It wasn’t a demand, so to speak. More of a highly requested suggestion if they were to try this out. Lucky for him, Shane followed through. He hovers over Shane’s lips, squeezing his ass. “You wanted my attention. Now you’ve got it. Are you backing out?”

“I’m not backing out,” Shane snips, shrugging a shoulder anxiously. “It’s just…out of my comfort zone.”

“Well then, we’re even, aren’t we?” Ilya says, digging his nails into his thick ass cheek, and not entirely opposed to the high gasp Shane releases.

It took one conversation, after five years of friendship, and Shane very bashfully admitting that he’s always wondered what all the hype was about with every woman that Ilya got into bed. Shane’s attractions had always been his business. He never forced them onto Ilya, never told him he should “explore more”, they just had their own platonic intimacy apart from the sexual. Shane wasn’t flamboyant or exuberant, he was just Shane. Insanely talented hockey player, peak jock performance, captain of the McGill team, about to graduate and kick ass in the real world, in the real leagues. Ilya was just his junior league buddy-turned-best-friend whose father talked him out of hockey altogether after Junior’s and strong-armed him into a business degree to “make something of himself.”

Sometimes he thinks it’s because his father saw how good Shane Hollander was at just seventeen and knew Ilya would never be that good.

Truthfully, he’d never looked at Shane as an object of lust. He was just his best friend. Objectively attractive, sure. He could acknowledge that Shane was a beautiful man, with a gentle smile and adorable freckles. But that’s as far as it went. Until tonight.

“Did you do what you need to do?” Ilya asks, a knuckle stroking Shane’s cheek.

“Yes,” he mumbles. “It’s ready.”

“Ready for me to just slide in when I please? Like any other girl?” He clarifies, tucking a tendril from his falling bangs behind his ear, his head of hockey hair in full force and pulled into a bun at the back of his head.

“Yes,” he shivers, barely blinking when Ilya tugs at his hair tie and frees his locks for holding.

“Then get on the bed. Face down. On your stomach.”

He hears the muttered “Fuck,” under his friend’s breath, and something about it makes Ilya’s cock throb.

He’s not attracted to men. He fucks women. He has fucked a wide array of women of all shapes and sizes and backgrounds. He knows women.

Shane, well…

He knows Shane incredibly well. Just not like he knows women. But how different, really, can it be? Fucking an ass is fucking an ass, right? A fuckhole is a fuckhole. He’s done it countless times. He likes his women a little freaky, a little kinky; he’s no stranger to entering through a back door. Make Shane put on panties and a little skirt and it might as well be one of his countless hookups over the years.

Ilya strips himself naked, something that Shane has definitely seen before, but never been able to appreciate fully, so he gives him that allowance. He sees his breath catch as his cheek lies atop his forearms, waiting for him and devouring Ilya's body with his lurid gaze. Shane isn’t that far behind — the skirt and panties are all he’s clad in anyway. He throws lube onto the bed, rips a condom from the strip, and flings it, landing on the small of Shane’s beautifully dimpled back.

Laying like this, he really isn’t that different from a woman. Strong thighs, he supposes, but that’s not exclusively masculine. He’s fucked a few muscle mommies in his time. His slutty waist curves beautifully into sturdy hips, and if Shane was a girl, he’d think he could birth a baby from them. Maybe if Ilya tries hard enough, he can knock him up despite the biological setbacks. Shane would probably take him without a condom if Ilya had him stupid enough. Many woman have tried to beg for it before. He has pretty strong resolve, and proudly no pregnancy scares as of yet.

But something about the curve of that fucking waist. The deep dimples above his ass. The thick, perkiness of his cheeks. Ilya is already hard and leaking staring at him. He may not even need the porn.

He turns it on anyway, a laptop perched at the foot of the bed in front of Shane. He picked the video out specifically, long enough that he can do what he needs to do. A toned man, nothing special. A beautiful brunette on her stomach with her ass in the air and an asshole already stretched, her tits pressed against the mattress and hair flowing down her back.

Ilya can do this. Easy. Shane wanted a graduation present, and Ilya is going to give him one.

“Can we at least keep the volume off?” Shane mumbles as the woman starts moaning on screen as fingers fuck her hole.

“I like the sounds,” Ilya purrs, gripping his ass.

“Put something inside me like that and I’ll make sounds for you,” he assures.

Ilya thinks it over, and decides to give it a try. He mutes the video, leaving the woman throwing her head back in silence. That settles Shane a little, resting his head more and propping his ass in the air like a well-trained slut.

“You get fucked often, Shane?” Ilya asks, admiring his cheeks adorning the red lace. “That position seemed pretty automatic. You don’t really talk about it much with me.”

“I get fucked enough,” Shane says dismissively. “And I didn’t think you’d want details.”

“Maybe we can try in the future. You can tell me all about the men who fuck you not as good as I’m about to,” he touts as he rolls the condom down his cock and lubes himself up. With a sharp hand, he smacks Shane’s ass, and the man gasps, his shoulder blades pulling back as he arches gorgeously at the treatment. Ilya chuckles. “I should’ve known. Hockey players like it rough, huh?”

Shane, his defenses dissolving, just exhales, “Yes.”

Ilya jerks down the panties, just under the seat of his ass, and groans as he flips his skirt up. He clearly shaved, made himself smooth and pristine down the split of his ass. Ilya inspects his future dwelling and finds it dark, dusky brown, and shining with lubricant. Shaved, maybe even waxed for how smooth he is when Ilya runs his fingers over the skin. Shane inhales at the touch, leaning back into it searchingly.

“You groomed for me.”

“I wanted to be…pretty,” Shane admits quietly.

“Fuck,” Ilya whispers, dragging his thumb over his slick, clenching hole. “You are very pretty. Look at this pussy, all clean and wet for me.”

Shane whimpers into his arms at the words.

“You like that?” Ilya coos, dragging the heel of his hand up Shane’s back and tangling into his shaggy hair. “You like when I call your pussy pretty? I think she wants me to fuck her. She’s winking at me like a little slut,” he teases, pulling his cheeks apart over and over with his free hand just to rile himself up at the ephemeral sight of him.

Fuck, his best friend is hot. And he wants to fuck him. God, he really wants to fuck him. Is he really this horny that his cock is leaking over his male best friend?

Now isn’t the time to overthink it. Shane is moaning, writhing at his sentiments, and Ilya feels a flush burn over his chest as he lines his cock up to his best friend’s hole. He shakes himself out of a daze and glances past Shane’s plump lips, up at the screen where the brunette is already getting plowed by a cock not that different in size from Ilya’s own.

He makes sure to stare at the girl, stare at her face, as he plunges past the tight ring of his entrance, but all the sounds are Shane. The cry of pleasure is deeper than he’s used to, but it still makes his cock ache as he sinks in deeper and deeper. Shane doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t tell him to stop or slow down, just moans and whines into his arms as his ass poises in the air. And when he starts to fuck, when he angles it right, Shane’s ass clamps around his dick like a vice, like good cunt when it’s coming around his cock. But he doesn’t even think Shane is close to coming yet.

That’s his prostate. Fuck, that’s hot. Ilya shifts to fuck into it again, and Shane’s thighs shudder as he keens, his hands now clutching the sheets beneath him. Ilya’s hand buries in Shane’s hair, pressing his cheek into the bed as he sets a ragged, relentless pace, feeling out what makes Shane tick like he would any woman.

“Did I find your secret spot? Your special little G spot? You like when I fuck it like that?” Ilya growls into his ear, feeling Shane’s ass bounce back against his hips as he forces himself to watch the screen again and not Shane’s pinched and pleasured face, where the woman is also being pressed into the bed and pounded, clearly shouting in manufactured bliss. But Shane’s noises are real. Very real. He knows fake when he hears it, and it isn’t when a hole is squeezing around his cock like this.

“I think I’m gonna come,” Shane whines, panting, wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking aggressively.

“Already, baby? Video’s not even half done,” he jokes, not sure where the pet name came from, but it felt natural with such a beautiful body beneath him, swallowing his cock like it's nothing at all.

“Fuck me through the whole thing, I don’t care,” Shane whimpers, and then his body jolts, his ass pulling tight around his cock as he splatters onto the interior of his skirt, panting and moaning.

It hits him all at once, a brick to the face, at the expression Shane pulls as he comes, looking so fucking beautiful, so angelic, so pornographic, but better than any porn he’s ever seen. He feels it in his fucking chest when he blows inside him, blindsided entirely and nearly blind himself as his vision blacks out before coming back in blurry and disoriented.

“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Jesus Christ,” Ilya babbles, running hands up and down Shane’s back as his cock softens in the messy condom. He pinches it gingerly and extracts himself, slamming the laptop shut and lumbering onto his back with a huff. “Господи. Shane. Fuck.”

“You’re sure you don’t like men? Like, really sure?” Shane breathes out with a wide smile.

“Don’t ask me that now. Let me have a fucking cigarette first.”

--

@ilyasmole @loontattoo

[prices-puppyboy]

horned up unrealistic headcanon: literally all of the teams (141, shadows, kortac, etc) are total ftm and trans masc chasers, like literally all of them. Who can pull the most trans boys is like a competitive sport for them. The younger and the more daddy issues, the more points

Ugh,,,,, I love this anon you have no idea. Probably too much forcemasc for my own good, but I just can't help myself it's one of my biggest kinks 😖

Simon, who discovers you on an op. You're on the opposite side, and he should really kill you. Shoot you, stow your body, be done with it. But he can tell you're not happy, can tell you're not the woman you present yourself to be. So he takes you, gun to your head. When Price raises a single, silent eyebrow, Simon says, "Stupid lad doesn't realize he's male. Figured we needed to help 'im out."

Price, who finds you in a bar. You're flirting with some douche, trying to make yourself seem weaker and smaller and more girly just so you can get some good food, then get railed. He grabs you by the nape of your neck and drags you toward the bathroom, snarling in your ear, "You wanna get fucked, boy? Let a real man do it."

Soap, who meets you at a BDSM event. He had a pup hood and collar on, as well as a lower body harness that dug into his thighs and the fat of his hips, showing off his twitching cock. You looked similar, muzzle instead of hood, harness instead of collar. But, like him, your pussy was on full display. He easily mounts you in front of all the other patrons, biting the back of your neck and breeding you full of pups.

Gaz, who always helps give you your T shots. You can't do it yourself, so he needs to help you. Sometimes he'll sneak up behind you and wrestle you to the ground, putting you in a headlock and laughing when you start to go limp. Then he'll give you your shot in your thigh or stomach. Other times he'll have you cockwarm him, cooing and pinching at your tdick until you're too hazy to even notice the needle.

Roach, who is also trans. You find each one another when you both need it the most. You help each other come out, help each other transition and get on hormones. Your relationship is more romantic than sexual, completely content with kissing gently and falling asleep in each others arms.

König, who is the wimpiest guy in the fucking world. He follows you around like a lost, sad, puppy. He doesn't care that you're trans, he just wants a hot, tight hole to fuck. He talks to your pussy more than you, especially when he fucks you. "She wants me, ja? So tight..." he'll whimper, reassuring you that he doesn't see you as a girl, just your pussy as one.

[quarterlifekitty]

i keep thinking about ur response on kidnapper 141 and their girls in a fucked up hangout session & how they presented, i really love it. i know graves would not be there at all 💀, but im really curious on how he’d treat his girl / how she’d present?

He’s tradwifing you the fuck up. Grave’s girl is wearing a floral, short sleeved sundress that ends just below the knee, with grown out hair (would it be insane of me to say he fantasizes about making you wear it in pigtails and holding them while he fucks your mouth). There’s a barely visible line on your neck at the base of your skull— that’s where the chip is. Keeps you in jewelry that’s sterling silver and classic diamond, sometimes pearl. Kitten heels (unless they make you taller than him lmao).

Everyone who sees you out with him thinks you’re the luckiest woman in the world, the way you’re wearing such nice things and have a handsome man so stuck on you— arm always around your waist, eyes never wandering from you.

I know they wouldn’t hang out, but it’s kinda funny to imagine the 141 talking about Graves and his wife like how people in petkeeping communities fight each other online. John being like “sad that he’s so insecure he had to give her a scar just to keep track of her.” Soap smiles and nods sagely in agreement. Like sir your “”””girlfriend”””” is wearing a BOMB she out here looking like a slave in fallout!!!!

[ollysankles]

more liabt doodles. did these to mail to friends :3

[cobwebbedcat]

Matching Set

MINORS DNI

Switch Top AMAB masc reader, Switch Bottom Brian Thomas, background poly tim x reader x brian, established relationship, drug use (weed), oral, eating ass, feminization, exhibitionism, sexting. Mentions of Ticci Toby lol 

With an arduous sigh you surrender to the fact that your body will not let you sleep. Insomnia has reared its ugly head, and you haul yourself out of bed, planning on getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Maybe hydrating will help.  

The house is dark, but to save yourself the headache of overhead lights, you only turn on the stove light as you busy yourself with grabbing a glass.  The house is dark, but not quiet; you can hear someone watching TV. Curiosity gets the better of you. 

“What the fuck are you two watching?” you ask, entering the living room where Tim is working his way through a beer on the armchair and Brian is sprawled across the couch, his long legs hanging off the edge of the armrest. They’re watching the QVC channel, and some woman is excitedly advertising a buy two get two special on bras and panties.  

“Dude shut the fuck up,” Brian groans, his face scrunched up in annoyance. As his eyes drift from the TV to you, his mood shifts dramatically. “Oh, is that for me?” He asks, all delighted and curious, sitting up to make room for you on the couch. He’s eyeing the glass of water you brought in from the kitchen. 

You shrug, because you don’t think you’ll be sleeping any time soon so you doubt the water will do you any good. You sit down next to Brian and pass it over without saying a word. “Ooh,” he hums happily, “this is awesome. You’re like a guardian angel or somethin’, this is gonna save my life.” 

You pass Tim a look at Brian’s reaction, cocking a brow in confusion. Tim, who’s been watching the entire interaction play out, rolls his eyes and then mimes smoking a joint.  

“We were watchin’ a movie,” Tim explains as Brian turns to lean against the armrest, sliding his legs across your lap. He gulps down the water noisily next to you, his attention already fixated again on the TV. “But this guy,” Tim gestures vaguely, “couldn’t stop freaking out over the volume. Kept complainin’ about shit being too loud, n’ that too much was going on,” he shrugs to punctuate the sentence.  

“You’d look good in that,” Brian interrupts, and it’s unclear who he’s talking to, but the two of you immediately turn to look at the screen. The woman is showing off a lacy red set. You laugh at the idea of yourself in all that lace, but Brian seems dead serious.  

“He must’ve been talking about you,” you purr, looking at Tim through your lashes. Despite your teasing, Tim gives you no reaction, simply taking a sip of his beer and staring you down.  

When you look back at the TV they’re showing off a black pair, equally lacy. You squeeze Brian’s thigh to get his attention, “those would look good on you,” you flirt. Brian gives you the reaction you were hoping for, and then some. He giggles softly, a healthy blush settling across his cheeks.  

“You think so, darlin’?” he hums, setting down the now empty glass on the floor and wrapping his arms around you, clumsily hauling himself fully into your lap. “You wanna see me pretty? You wanna see me all dressed up?” he breathes, his pupils blown wide.  

Instead of giving him a proper response, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean up to kiss him. Brian hums softly, licking his tongue out and pressing it against your lips. You deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue in and tasting the weed from earlier still lingering in his mouth.  

You make out for a heavy moment, sucking on his tongue, letting him lick into your own mouth, until Brian is slowly grinding into your lap. Tim clears his throat. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” he declares, suddenly standing next to the two of you. You pull away from Brian’s hungry mouth, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, and pout your lips at Tim—signaling you want him to give you a kiss before he tucks in for the night.  

The ghost of a smile graces his lips, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you sweetly. He pulls away, kisses Brian’s forehead (much to the man’s delight), and then pauses a second to really look at the two of you. 

“Y’all better get the fuck outta here before Toby gets back. Don’t wanna traumatize him,” Tim finally says. Brian laughs hard at that. 

“Traumatize? Dude you know he’d be sooo jealous,” he cries, shoving his face in your shoulder so he can try to hide how much he’s laughing at the idea. Tim lets out a little laugh, and you can’t tell if he’s laughing with or at Brian. He leaves the room without another word. 

“Of who?” you ask after watching him go, squeezing Brian’s ass to get him to pay attention to you. He lets out a little half giggle half moan at the action.  

“Wait what?” he asks, already forgetting what you were talking about. “Oh, me, obviously,” he hums once his brain catches up a bit, “he wants you bad,” Brian tells you that like it’s a secret, but it’s really not.  

“Well, I’ve got my hands full,” you remind him, squeezing his ass again.  

Tim’s got a point (because of course he does), you don’t really want Toby walking in on you, so you hoist Brian up. He gasps at being lifted with ease, whispering a soft, 

“Oh wow,” as you start walking him to your bedroom.  

Brian is quiet as you carry him around, lost in thought. When you deposit him on your bed he grins, showing off the cute gap in his teeth.  

“Thinkin’ I wanna suck your dick,” he whispers. You groan, nodding as you make yourself comfortable, leaning up against your pillows. Brain helps you out of your pants, and then his mouth is on you.  

You’re only half hard, so Brian helps you out by kissing and stroking your cock. He gets you wet and slick with his saliva before sliding you down his throat.  

Brian sucks you off like his life depends on it. It’s always different when he’s high. He gets lost in it, in the taste and smell of you, in the feeling of you filling up his throat. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, guiding his head along your cock, your hips jerking when he gags and slobbers on you. You can feel the way his soft, hot throat constricts and squeezes around your dick. His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know he’s looking up at you through those pretty lashes of his, watching you fall apart.  

You cum down Brian's throat with the only warning being a hushed cry of his name. Brian swallows down your cum, then leans up to deliver a sloppy, spit and spunk filled kiss to your open mouth.  

“Sit on my face,” you beg against his messy lips. Brian lets out a long groan, all sweet and soft.  

“Please,” he moans your name, like you’re not the one who offered. You readjust, so your head is better supported to bear his weight. In the meantime Brian strips himself of his clothes looking downright giddy once he’s nude in front of you, his head cocked sightly as he stares you down. You smile back, motioning for him to come to you. 

Brian clumsily crawls over your body, kneeling over your face. You place your palms on his hips, spreading your fingers over the expanse of his ass. Brian sighs softly when you pull him down onto your face.  

You lick at his hole, relishing in the way that he exhales and leans back against your mouth. He grinds his ass against your tongue, chasing his pleasure already. You bring a hand back and give him a light swat, more of a warning than anything. Brian lets out a choked sound, then whines your name. You take pity on him, reaching a hand around to stroke off his cock as you press your tongue inside his entrance.  

Brian cums quick and easy, which is typical when he’s high. Arousal builds and builds and then crashes down over him without warning. He’s so loud when he cums—crying out your name and panting all hot and heavy—that you worry about him waking someone in this dark, quiet house.  

His muscles tense, his cock pulsing in your hand, making a mess of the headboard. His orgasm lasts a bit longer than usual; overstimulation takes its time breaking through the haze of his high. When he finally comes back to himself, Brian practically falls off of you. 

Having gotten your lover and yourself off, exhaustion starts to creep into your bones. Brian lies limp next to you, catching his breath. You listen to his breathing even out, wondering  if he’ll fall asleep.  

Then, he’s stretching and humming to himself, sliding off the bed. You find just enough energy to pull your underwear back on and wipe off Brian’s cum from the headboard with a tissue, before your eyelids start to feel like cement. 

Before he goes off to do god knows what, Brian leans over and kisses you goodnight, all loving and sweet. You watch, every blink longer than the last, as he dresses himself before rooting around in your dresser. You have no idea what he’s up to, but you find that you don’t care. Sleep settles over you like a gentle breeze.  

It’s a fun night, and you’re grateful to find a cure to your insomnia, but aside from having a delightful time with your lover, it’s not entirely memorable. Or so you’d thought.  

A week or so later the night comes back to you when you receive a series of texts in the middle of the afternoon.  

Brian: Check out what just came in the mail 

And you open your messages, expecting a new gun or knife or maybe a new part for his truck. The picture loads and you get lightheaded at the sight of it.  

It’s a mirror shot of Brian, wearing a t-shirt of yours that you were certain you’d lost, except he’s got that pulled up to show off a bralette—a black lacy one that gives you deja vu. The way it cups his chest makes you want to fuck his tits and finish on his face. Before you’re able to respond, another image loads.  

This one is him holding the camera angling it down at his stomach and groin. He’s tugging down a pair of gray sweatpants to show off a matching set of panties. They barely contain his half hard cock. It’s just teasing enough to make you want to see more, immediately. 

You: My room, now  

You text back, eagerly awaiting his arrival, because you need to get your hands on him or you feel like you’re going to go crazy.  

Brian doesn’t knock, he never does, just enters your room as quiet as ever. If you weren’t expecting him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He closes the door behind him, looking deeply pleased with himself. 

“Brian,” you huff, closing the space between the two of you, pressing his back against the door, your fingers slipping between his skin and the waistband of his sweats, feeling the lace from the hem of his panties. “Jesus, babe you have to take these off, now,” you beg, salivating at the sight of him, and the promise of what’s under his clothes.  

Brian chuckles, pulling you into a kiss like you’re not trying to hold back from ripping his clothes from his body. You kiss back, of course, pawing at his body as you do.  

“Didn’t know you’d like this so much,” he teases, pulling away and finally taking off his shirt (or rather, your shirt that he’s wearing). 

“Yes you did,” you grumble, annoyed that he can read you so well. Brian doesn’t respond to that, just takes your hands in his and guides them to his chest. You groan, beside yourself as you squish his pecs together, thumbing at his nipples through the lacy fabric of the bralette. “Brian,” you whine, his name sounding a lot like a synonym for more.  

“What?” he asks, feigning innocence. He mumbles your name softly, causing you to break your gaze from his chest to look him in the eyes. “Want to see the panties? Wanna see my fuckin’ hard cock peakin’ out from ‘em? They just barely fit me,” he tells you, smiling at you all mischievous like, because he knows exactly what he’s doing.  

“Yes,” you breathe, “Brian, please.” 

Brian shoves you and you stumble back a couple of steps, a whine crawling from the back of your throat at the distance put between the two of you. Even though you’d rather be pressed up against him, you’re dizzy from the fact that he’s so strong he can just push you around. 

“Maybe you should take off some’ve your clothes too, huh? Pretty unfair,” he crosses his arms across his lacy chest. You nod dumbly, scrambling out of your clothes. Brian cocks his head towards your bed, and you sit down on the edge of it, curling your fists in your comforter.  

“Much better,” he says, and you preen as his eyes skirt across your naked body. He takes a good long look at you, and then he moves to slip off his sweatpants.  

You groan at the sight of him undressed in front of you. Brian still has that prideful smile on his face, like he’s been expecting your every reaction.  

You reach out for him, and Brian slides into your lap easily, holding onto your shoulders for stability. Your hands settle on his hips. 

“God you look so good,” you moan rutting your hard dick against his lace covered one. Brian grinds back against your length. 

“Lube?” he asks, pointing at your bedside table that has a little drawer where you keep lube and condoms. You nod, and then he’s leaning over to grab it. 

Brian shoves the bottle into your hand as he kisses you. “You’re gonna get me opened up for your cock,” he tells you simply, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing another kiss against your lips before pulling back, “and then I’m gonna ride you.” You groan, using your free hand to squeeze his hip hard.  

“Gonna take these off then?” you ask, tugging on the hem of his lacy panties, and peering down to look at his cock.  

“Nah,” Brian’s answer makes your brows furrow with confusion. He laughs at your reaction, “pull ‘em to the side, genius,” he leans in to whisper “I wanna make a mess of them when you’re fuckin’ me,” into your ear.  

The moan that leaves your body is downright involuntary, and then you’re fumbling with the bottle of lube, embarrassingly clumsy because all the blood in your body just went straight to your dick.  

You slick up your fingers, then use your dry hand to pull his panties to the side, so his hole is exposed to you. One of your lubed fingers rubs a slow and easy circle around his entrance, and then you’re pushing in.  

Brian lets out a shaky breath, squirming a bit at the sensation. You wiggle your finger around a bit, getting him opened up so you can slide in another finger.  

Your two fingers scissor Brian open while he moans and grinds his ass back against your digits. You avoid his prostate, focusing more on getting him all loose for your cock, instead of getting him off.  

“C’mon darlin’” Brian whines as you add another finger, “wantcha to fuck me.”  

“Want me to fuck your pussy?” you ask, relishing in the way that Brian squeezes around your fingers and moans, “is your cunt all wet and ready for me, baby?” 

Brian nods, keening your name, “god yeah, hah, fuckin’ give it to me,” he begs softly, adding on a sinful “please” for good measure.  

You’ve been wanting to fuck him since you saw the photos he took for you, so Brian doesn’t need to do too much convincing to get you to slide your fingers out of his hole.  

There’s a second where Brian squirms on top of you, waiting oh so patiently as you lube up your cock. Then he pushes himself up on his knees a bit so he hovers over your lap. He lets you guide his hips towards your cock, and you use one hand to line yourself up with his entrance. As soon as your tip presses against his sticky hole, Brian begins to ease himself down on your length.  

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers, leaning in to kiss you while he adjusts to the sensation of you filling him up.  

“C’mon good girl,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him once before squeezing his hips, “you got this. Show me how bad you want to ride this cock.”  

Brain whines your name softly, but he listens to you all the same, starting to slowly grind his way into a rhythm. He’s hot and sticky around you, clenching tight when the blunt head of your cock rubs against his prostate.  

“So gorgeous Brian, so-oh fucking beautiful,” you moan, reaching up to cup one of his pecs. His hips stutter at the praise, his hole twitching around your length. “So good to me, getting all—fuck, so pretty for me.” 

You can feel yourself falling apart, heat pooling in your loins, your head feeling foggy and light with pleasure.  

“Oh—” Brian gasps, holding onto you as you jerk your hips upwards, fucking up into him as he slides down. His eyes flutter shut, his lashes dusting his rosy cheeks, his mouth hanging open as he takes panting breaths, letting out quiet moans and whimpers as you fuck him. 

“Gonna cum,” he sighs your name softly. Helping him out, you bring one of your hands down to jerk him off through his panties. Brian lets out a keening moan when he cums, his thighs trembling and his hole fluttering around your cock.  

Brian gets his wish, making an absolute mess of his panties, his cum creating a wet stain on the front. The sight of him falling apart on top of you, with his tight, hot hole massaging your cock, brings you over the edge. It’s a bit sudden, like a fraying thread finally snapping.  

You hold onto Brian’s hips tightly, groaning his name all long and low as you cum. Fucking up into him all hard and fast, you ride out your own high, stuffing him full of your cum.  

Brian whimpers your name, clutching onto you, pressing kisses against your shoulders and neck.  

You sigh softly as the pleasure weans off.  

“You wanna lay down?” you ask gently, worried that Brian is uncomfortable with your length still being pressed inside of him.  

“In a sec,” he mumbles, his eyes closed once again. You let him take a moment to catch his breath—so to speak—rubbing gentle circles into his hips. You try not to think about how uncomfortable it must be to have those sticky, wet panties on.  

It’s only when he tries to lift himself on shaky legs that you help Brian move, hoisting him up off your softening cock, and setting him down delicately on the bed. 

Brian lays down on his stomach, face smushed against one of your pillows. You get a good look at him from the back. His panties are still pulled to the side, showing off his fucked hole, leaking cum. Your dick twitches valiantly at the sight.  

“Dude, take a picture if you’re gonna stare so much,” Brian hums, teasing you affectionately. You blush at being caught. “Not kiddin’,” he laughs, “take one, send it to Tim. Show ‘em what he’s missin’.” 

You practically shiver at the idea, reaching for Brian’s sweats, where you know his phone is tucked away in his pocket. Brian looks back over his shoulder at the camera, giving you a lazy grin. You text Tim the picture with a winky face, and then toss it elsewhere on the bed. 

“Gonna let him have sloppy seconds?” you purr, eyeing his messy hole. Brian wiggles his ass a bit,  

“Who says it’s gotta be sloppy?” he asks sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes at you.  

You can feel yourself salivate at the idea of cleaning him up. You spread his legs to make room for yourself, and grab his ass, squeezing his cheeks roughly, then pulling them apart and leaning in to start round two.

[tryme-once]

For whatever occasion you buy Gaz a gift.

He's genuinely so surprised and flattered until he opens it, and it's a skirt and lip gloss.

Bonus points for the pink card that says "for my pretty boy"

You definitely get a bruised cheek for that one.

His own mom pulls you aside and asks if you're okay

His own mum pulling you aside asking if her son is being abusive is hilarious. That conversation would be way too awkward

Gaz will pretend the "gag" gift (and he will assume it was a gag gift) didn't amuse him in the slightest. He will invite you to spar and go extra hard on you as his own way of punishing you, he will scrunch up his face in disgust when he sees you laugh, he will most definitely throw it away.

At least, he will tell you he threw it away.

He didn't take it with him to base, god forbid any other soldier finds out about it, so he's counting that. It's also not at your place, who do you take him for? He won't give you the satisfaction (yet). He did, however, hide it in a small box under his bed back in his parents' household, and he will not accept that that's the direct opposite of "throwing it away".

He keeps thinking about it by the time the next visit to his parents comes around. Not many of the thoughts are negative, especially when eventually it doesn't bother him as much when you baby him, and suddenly wearing that doesn't seem so insane.

He doesn't tell you about it, slightly bothered that he likes the thought so much. He does, however, sneak to his bedroom when you're downstairs with his dad and his mum is talking to his aunt and he just can't help getting the box out to check again.

The lipstick feels like too much right now, but he does try on the skirt.

It's strange, but it doesn't feel wrong. In fact, after a minute or so of looking at himself in the mirror, moving to see how it looks from behind, trying to see how it looks with the shirt on in different ways, he starts thinking it's not that bad. He is, however, a grown man, and he does believe he looks a little weird.

He won't tell you about that when he heads back down, or when you're driving him back home.

If at some point when grocery shopping another day he stops a little too long at the lipstick section, that's his own business.

If at some point he heads back to his parents and tells them he left something there, so that he can have an excuse to go back upstairs and try on the lip gloss you gifted him a few months ago already, that's also his own business, and if he takes it back to your house with him? Well, why are you asking?

It isn't until much later when you finally get to see him wearing that skirt, putting on the lip gloss. He doesn't think that feminization on any level warrants you calling him pretty again, but he'll take it this time, as he looks on the mirror while your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer to you.

[autisminabox]

Seeing American political commentators in the past week retching and gasping and going “Eugh, my eyes!” upon introduction to the bimbofication fetish is really funny to me because it’s not even the most subversive/bizarre of the kinks adjacent to feminization and whatnot. If Bryon Noem were consuming sissy hypno or mechsploitation fic the average cishet liberal political commentary YouTuber would die of anaphylactic shock