Ideas are already in the works, I'll be pushing myself to write a bit everyday as an exercise on enjoying my hobbies again. Upcoming fics in no particular order, that I will be working on as my fixations ebb and flow, in ADDITION TO, BUT NOT REPLACING my Grunkle Stan fic:
Updated "In Too Deep" (Stanley Pines/fat transmasc reader fic) after nearly two years abandoned. Second chapter is ENTIRELY smut/adjacent, but the third is already underway and will carry through Bug's first day on the job with Ford, as well as his first shift in the Mystery Shack afterward!
I started browsing the #ftm reader tag just because there was a huge lack of content if you filtered it with specific characters, and I found that most of the tag is from ONE fandom???? no idea who tf ghost and soap are nor why their fanbase has so many transmen but thank you for your service guys im enjoying the fics
CONTENT
SMUT, fingering—both receiving, cunnilingus—reader receiving, begging, exhibitionism, "baby" used as a petname, slight teasing, porn without plot, aftercare if you squint
lmk if there's more i should add
Pairing: Billie Eilish x AFAB Reader — no pronouns used, established relationship
Dynamic: Switch!Billie x Switch!Needy!Reader
Synopsis: Billie brought you on tour with her and in-between locations, you and the crew travel together on a tour bus. Things have gotten stressful and a handful, especially because of the tour itself, and you two need to blow off some steam in your shared bunk.
A/N: first billie fic on this app, lmk how yall think! Also not proofread... Requests open for anything, head to my guidelines before you ask though <3
masterlist ┊ rules and guidelines
There's two members of her crew chatting quietly at the lower level of the bus, seen just before one of them walks up the stairs before sliding into your own bunk.
You’re up in Billie's, headphones hanging from a hook beside the frame with your phone in-hand, scrolling through Tumblr as you wait for her.
She enters the room with a yawn, the soft glow from your phone illuminating your face in the dim light. She takes you in for a moment, her gaze falling over the loose fabric draping over your body in lazy ripples, eyes lingering for a second too long on your lips.
Billie mentally chides herself as she climbs into bed beside you, crawling under the blankets and immediately scooting closer. She buries her face in your chest, arms coming up to wrap around you as she lets out a soft sigh, her body molding against yours perfectly—like she was meant to fit you.
Your hand reaches out to pull the curtain to the bunk before wrapping your arms around her torso, a soft hum vibrating against the top of her head.
"Mmmh, hey..." You cooed, fingers running through the dark waves of her hair, "You smell good." A soft chuckle fell from your lips, realizing how corny that sounded. Your leg hooked behind hers, pulling her in closer as the both of you got more comfortable.
Billie lets her body melt into your hold, feeling the warmth of your skin through the thin material of her shirt and the soft touch of your fingers in her hair. She inhales deep, the scent of your cologne filling her nostrils, and she nuzzles her face against your chest— content to just lie here with you forever.
Your leg hooks around hers, your legs tangling together underneath the blanket, and she can't help but let out a soft hum of contentment.
"So do you," she mumbles, her voice slightly muffled against your shirt. She's comfortable in your embrace, her body pressed tightly against yours—fingers still running through her hair. And as much as she's enjoying just lying here with you like this… a part of her wants more. Billie can feel the steady thump of your heart against her cheek, your fingers sending tingles down her spine-and a small, wicked thought enters her mind.
You traced thoughtless patterns into her back, the fabric of her shirt wrinkling under the gentle brush of your fingers. You let out a soft sigh, just enjoying the fact that you could do this so mindlessly and comfortably.
She shifts slightly, pressing closer, her lips grazing the dip of your collarbone as she exhales, warm breath ghosting over your skin, her fingers curling slightly into your shirt—subtle, but she knows you’ll notice.
And then—as if to really test the waters—she lets her teeth drag lightly over your skin-just for a second-before pulling back.
A shaky breath fell from your lips as they parted, hand stilling before dragging up the back of her neck and flexing into her hair, pulling gently but enough to make her eyes meet yours, causing Billie’s breath to catch.
Your gaze was dangerous, yet teasing, "You're being risky..." you whispered, voice hoarse as your free hand dragged down the dip in her waist.
You pulled your hands away from her before shifting your weight to loom above her, lips parted with almost heavy pants.
"You wanna do this?" You asked in a whisper, "Right here?" Your knee spread her thighs beneath you, pressing upwards between them— she can't help but gasp, the soft, shaky noise breaking free from her throat as your eyes bore into hers, her heart racing inside her chest.
God, you look delicious like this, hovering so close to her, all hard edges and focused gaze, dominating her with that knee between her thighs, holding her at your mercy.
She nods, her words coming out desperate and breathy, "Yes—please."
You press your lips into hers, hand moving up to cup her throat just gently, Your tongue swiping over her bottom lip—a silent ask, and her lips part willingly—before slipping into her mouth and pressing against hers.
You press your knee harder into her, hand moving to brace yourself as you gently rocked it into her.
She lets her legs spread wider, her hands coming up to grip your shoulders—the feeling of your body pressing against her so good, your knee driving against her and sending heat through her.
Billie can feel your lips curving into a smile as you kiss her—probably too cocky about the way she's losing her damn mind right now.
Your left hand moves to meet her waist, pulling and pushing as you guided her into a rocking motion—riding your knee. Your tongue was desperate for her, curling and pressing against hers with soft pants.
He kept quiet along with Billie, all too familiar with having to do so.
She follows your lead, rocking into your knee with a needy desperation, her hips moving without her permission.
The feeling of your tongue driving against hers has her breath coming in panting gasps, all the heat in her body concentrated between her legs. Her body feels so sensitive, every touch leaving sparks in its wake.
Your grip on her hip isn't quite enough to hold her in place—so she grabs your wrist and yanks it to her upper thigh, pressing your hand against her skin and keeping it there. Your fingers curl into the skin there, acknowledging and teasing just how needy she is all for you.
There's a sound from outside the curtain, footsteps approaching the bus—probably one of the other crew members going to bed.
You don’t seem to hear it, tongue flicking against hers again—but Billie... she does. She reluctantly pulls back with a shaky gasp, her eyes wide and voice breathy—"Wait, w-wait—someone's coming—"
You pressed your palm against her mouth, ears wide open as you snake your fingers up the leg of her shorts—dangerously keeping this tension between you unwavering.
"Billie?"
A voice from outside the curtain, muffled but unmistakable—one of the crewmembers looking for her.
You freeze, fingers stilling—but not moving away—as you glance down at her with wide eyes. Your lips twitch into a smirk—one that says we shouldn’t, but—your fingers press down just a little harder.
You peek your head out of the curtain, fingers dragging up the lace of her underwear. "Dude— she's sleeping." You whisper to the guy before closing it right back up and returning all of your attention back to her.
Billie bites her lip, her teeth sinking into soft flesh as she fights to hold back a sound—her body shaking slightly as your fingers tease her, sending jolts down her thighs.
She can hear the other member muttering "Oh, alright" and "Goodnight," and—thank God—stepping away.
She swallows hard, her eyes wide as she looks up at you, her breathing coming in soft, shaky gasps. Her voice is a hoarse whisper, "...That was close."
And then—as if something inside her snaps—her eyes lock with yours, and all she can think about is how badly she needs you in this moment.
She craves your touch, your kisses, your sweet voice sending shivers down her spine. She wants more—wants you to drive her insane, wants to forget everything else except the feeling of your body against hers.
Her body moves on its own, her leg hooking around your hips as she pulls you back down on top of her.
"Don't stop."
An eyebrow cocked up at her demand for your touch, a smirk toying at the edge of your lips. Your fingers press slow circles into her clit, already soaking for you—of course she is… You leaned down, kissing her neck as you worked her more and more desperate under your hands.
It's so unfair how fast you have her a trembling, whimpering mess, her body quivering under your touch.
She can barely remember how to breathe, all her focus on the heat building up between her legs, the pleasure coursing through her veins.
A soft, needy whine leaves her as you kiss her neck, her fingers tightening their hold on your biceps. "More—" she breathes, "I need more—"
A hand falls over her mouth, silencing her pleas with a soft "Shhh..." from you. Your hand tugs down her underwear along with her shorts, two fingers sinking deep into her before curling up into that perfect angle of hers.
Her eyes flutter shut, her back arching up off the bed to press into you—her gasp muffled by your hand over her mouth.
Billie can feel a heat pooling in her stomach, a thirst that only you can quench. Your touch is like fire against her skin, leaving her burning and hungry for more.
She lets her head fall back onto the bed, her breathing ragged—the sound of the other bus members in the background a distant thought at the edge of her awareness.
You try your best to keep her quiet within tiny space they share, it wasn't much of a struggle, but it surprised you how loud she allowed herself to be.
Your efforts grew rougher—faster—thumb brushing over her clit as your fingers curled into that sweet spot you knew had her trembling, arousal already dripping between her thighs.
You couldn't help but let out a low groan at the sight of her.
She presses one hand over yours, the other moving to grab the edge of the pillow, anything to keep her from making too much noise—her breathing coming in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each of her breaths.
Billie can feel the heat building up inside her, the tension winding tighter and tighter—she's so close, so close to tipping over the edge.
Every muscle is tensed, her fingers gripping the pillow so hard her knuckles are white. "Please," she whispers against your palm, "Fuck—baby, please—"
Your thumb works faster, drawing tight circles into that sensitive bud as you drank in every single noise and reaction that you pulled from her.
God, it was intoxicating...
You were drunk at the sight of her, at the feeling, it was all so much and not enough at the same time.
Her body shakes—every nerve ending on fire, her entire being zeroing in on the maddening pleasure you’re pulling from her.
She bites down hard on your palm to muffle herself, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she's pushed closer and closer to that edge.
And then—then—she tips over.
A silent scream parts her lips against your hand as she comes undone, waves of ecstasy crashing through every inch of her body like a tidal wave.
Your fingers begin to slow, that schlick sound becoming more prominently pronounced just before you stop.
But you don’t pull them out just yet, letting her settle, letting her breathe.
Your eyes are locked onto hers, your gaze sincere and genuine as your lips part, "You okay...?" You ask, voice tender and caring as you pull your hand from her mouth.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. She blinks up at you—her dark eyes wide, glassy from the intensity of it all—and she nods weakly.
"Yeah… yeah," she breathes out, voice hoarse and soft as a whisper. Then—because she's Billie, because affection is her default language—she reaches up to cup your face in both hands before pressing a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.
You kiss her back—of course—eyes fluttering shut as you very gently pulled your digits from that soaked hole between her thighs, brushing lightly past her clit before pulling away.
They wipe across the hem of your boxers, peeking out from those soft pajama pants, as your free hand moves up to gently cup her face.
You melt into this moment, the vulnerability after the blaze.
She nestles into the kiss, her lips moving softly against yours—gentle and slow, nothing like the desperation from earlier.
The vulnerability in this moment makes her heart swell—how tender you are with her after something so intense. It's a side of you, she adores—the way you hold her face like she's something precious.
She pulls back just enough to press your foreheads together, breathing you in before closing the small gap between them for another soft peck.
Though this moment between you is utterly wholesome, something you’d never forget, you can't help the throbbing between your thighs… Those pretty noises she made just moments before echoed through your ears over and over again.
"You did so good for me," you whispered, eyes drowning in hers, and praise makes her stomach flip—god, the way you say that, so soft and proud of her.
You glanced down at her neck for just a moment, pressing a tender kiss there to distract your because this is supposed to be something gentle. And when your lips brush against her neck, she shivers—not from arousal this time (okay maybe a little), but from how loved it makes her feel. Like she's something cherished, not just desired.
Her fingers slide into your hair as you kiss down to the base of her throat—a quiet sigh escaping as she leans into you completely.
She wants to return the affection tenfold...
You lean back, almost sitting up as you reach for her panties, still stretched on either side of her ankles, pulling them back up for her.
"Up." You command softly, lifting her hips as you slid the fabric over her hips.
Billie sits up obediently, her body moving on instinct as you adjust her panties—her cheeks still flushed from everything that just happened.
The sight of her was utterly intoxicating… You couldn't help when you squeezed your thighs together—just the slightest.
There's something achingly sweet about the way you take care of her afterward—the gentle commands, the soft touches. It makes her chest feel tight with affection. Her eyes flicker down to your lap for half a second—she knows that look, knows what it means, and despite how spent she feels right now? A small part of her wants to return the favor too.
You lean down, relaxing your body with a soft hum vibrating in your throat as you lie down next to her. Your arm drapes over her stomach, eyes fluttering shut to relax yourself a little bit.
"Mmh..." You hummed, "So pretty for me." Your fingers traced circles into her waist, gently rubbing the skin there to ground her from that high.
Your imagination takes over from there, her noises echoing in your ears even louder as your eyes closed, so you opened them to look at her—the endearing gaze masking his... want.
Her heart melts at the way you look at her—so tender, so devoted—even as she can see the quiet hunger in your eyes. She knows that gaze. The one that says I want you, but also says, but I’ll be patient for you.
Without a word, Billie scoots closer and presses a kiss to your jaw—then another to your cheekbone—then finally lands on the corner of your lips. A soft peck before tilting her head just right and kissing you properly again.
You couldn't help the hum that escaped you when her head tilted, tongue pressing against your teeth. Your brows furrowed, hands cupping her waist again as you melted into her like nothing.
Your hips gently bucked forward, the thoughts in your head silently chastising yourself and hoping she didn't notice.
The kiss deepens slightly, her lips parting against yours as the quiet huff of breath between you is warm and sweet.
She feels the subtle shift of your hips—so small, so careful—but she notices. Of course she does. And though a part of her wants to tease you for it, the way you try to hide how much you wants this, another part just melts at how restrained you’re being for her sake right now.
Your breathing grows a little heavier, more ragged as you slip your tongue into her mouth. God—you can't hide how much you wants this, how much you’ve needed this ever since you got into this damn bus.
She meets your tongue eagerly, her own sliding against yours in a slow, hungry dance—her hands moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck.
The tension between them is thick—electric—and she can feel every unspoken want radiating off of you.
Without breaking the kiss, she rolls onto her side slightly, pressing closer until there's no space left between your bodies—chest to chest, heartbeat syncing with heartbeat.
Your back presses against the wall, hand digging gently into the fabric of her tank top with the other lying just beside your face, fingers twitching. Your body rolls forward, hips pressing lightly against hers with something hungry you can't control.
The edges of your brows furrow inward, tongue chasing hers as each catch of your breaths mingle with each other.
The kiss burns hotter, deeper—both of you lost in the sensation, bodies pressed flush together.
Her hands slide down your chest, fingers tracing the hard planes through your top before she finally breaks away just enough to press her lips to you jaw—then lower, along your throat. Each kiss is feather-light but intentionally teasing.
Billie knows exactly what she's doing—and judging by the way your breath hitches? It's working.
You tilts your head upward, allowing her more access as your hand comes up to the dark strands of her scalp—not pulling, just grounding. The sound of your lips parting is almost audible, breath coming out unevenly as one of your legs props upwards, almost silently asking for this.
"Fuck," you breathe, eyes darting down to her as the feeling of her lips against your skin bloom heat in the wake of touch.
The way you melt for her—offering your throat like a sacrifice—makes something primal stir in her chest.
She kisses lower, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above your collarbone before sucking gently—not enough to leave a mark (they’re on tour, after all), but enough to make you gasp. Her free hand trails down your torso again, this time slipping under the hem of your tank top, fingertips skimming over warm muscle.
You’re on your back now, fingers gently curling into her hair for purchase as you let your head tilt back, eyes fluttering shut. Your free hand presses flat against the wall beside you, nails almost digging into the surface like it would help at all.
A low, almost inaudible sound falls from your lips, eyes locked onto hers with that pathetic begging look.
God, that look—those eyes—they’re the death of her. That helpless, wanting gaze, the kind that makes her stomach flip and her heart race all at once.
Without breaking eye contact, she leans down and captures your lips again in a slow, devouring kiss—one hand still under your shirt while the other traces your jawline, featherlight yet burning under the touch. She can feel you trembling beneath her and it's intoxicating.
Your hand glides off the wall, fingers wrapping around her wrist before gently guiding her touch lower.
You’re desperate now—utterly so—and you need her.
Your free hand holds the back of her neck, pulling her impossibly close as you taste that addicting flavor of her tongue on yours.
She knows exactly where you want her, and the need in your touch is overwhelming.
Her palm presses against the waistband of your sweatpants, fingertips brushing over warm skin as she kisses you deeper—tongue sliding against hers with a slow, teasing drag that’s equal parts affection and torture.
And then, She finally slips her hand beneath fabric...
You’re already soaking wet from the noises you pulled from her earlier, even more so from all this teasing. A choked whimper falls from your lips as you feel her fingers trace the skin, thighs spreading wider for her almost subconsciously.
Your eyes flutter shut, allowing yourself to just feel.
The second her fingers make contact—skin on skin—she feels how warm you are, how ready.
Her thumb brushes over the fabric of your boxers first, teasingly light, before she finally hooks a finger into the waistband and slowly... so slowly... starts to pull them down. Every movement is deliberate—watching your face for every reaction, every twitch of pleasure or impatience.
Your hands practically fly downwards, hips lifting up to help her pull off that last barrier of fabric between her and what you need her to touch. Your boxers slip off your feet, discarded somewhere in the sheets below the both of them as you meet her eyes, desperate and needy for her.
All for her.
"Please..." Your whine, something pathetic taking over you in this moment. You can feel just how soaking wet you is for her, your clit throbbing with need.
That whine—that begging tone—sends a thrill straight through her. She loves this side of you, loves how unraveled you are, how desperate and pliant under her touch.
Without hesitation, she leans down and presses a slow kiss to the inside of your thigh—then another higher up—her breath hot against your skin as she inches closer... closer... until finally, finally, her lips brush over where you want them most.
You could barely feel it, but with just how desperate you are, it’s so fucking good. Your hand gently rests on her head, fingers entangling with the dark strands of her hair as you try your best not to buck your hips upward—not to chase that feeling.
Another whine falls from you, wordlessly pleading for her—for this.
She presses a featherlight kiss right there—just a brush of lips, nothing more—a tease before she finally parts her lips and... Licks. A slow, deliberate stripe, testing, tasting.
Your free hand gripped the sheets beside you, jaw tightening at the feeling of her tongue against you. God—you’ve needed this, for so long.
"Billie," you breathed, already hoarse. "P-please..." Your thighs flexed at either side of her face, holding back from squeezing shut and taking what you want.
Hearing her name on your lips like that—broken, pleading—sends a rush of heat straight through her.
She does it again. A longer lick this time, slower, savoring the taste of you before finally closing her mouth over that bud properly—sucking gently, just enough to make your back arch off the bed.
Her hands slide up to grip your hips, keeping you steady as she starts moving in earnest—lips and tongue working in perfect rhythm.
A low groan pulls from your throat, not enough to be heard by everyone else, but loud enough to echo within the small space they share.
Your fingers grip her hair just a little firmer, trying your best to keep yourself steady as the pleasure of each stroke of Billie’s tongue shoots up your stomach.
The feeling is addicting, something you’d savor every moment of.
Every sound your makes—the quiet groans, the hitches in your breath—fuel her. She loves this. Loves how responsive you are, how every flick of her tongue or press of her lips pulls another soft noise from you.
Her rhythm stays steady—teasingly slow at first, then building slightly as she feels your hips twitch beneath her hands... wanting more but not pushing yet. Just worshipping.
Your hand loosens its grip, lowering to tuck a loose strand behind her ear before returning to its original position.
You’re panting now, eyes half-lidded with your lips parted. "Fingers..." You breathed out, "please..." Your thighs twitch for just a moment, almost like your body is begging along with your words.
Billie hears you—of course she does—and without missing a beat, one of her hands slips down, fingers gently circling there. A test, a tease.
But when you whimper again? She obeys.
Two fingers press in slowly, carefully—watching your face the entire time to make sure it’s good... before curling them just right and starting to move.
A deep groan pulls from your throat, head bowing backwards as your fingers grip her hair and the sheets all the more tighter.
"Fuck..." You cursed, dragging out the syllable as your back arched upward from the feeling of her fingers.
You’re so ruined. And she's barely touched you yet.
Billie loves how wrecked you look already, and she’s only just begun.
Her fingers keep moving in that perfect rhythm while her mouth stays busy too—alternating between soft kisses and gentle suction to drive you even crazier.
And when your hips jerk? She presses a flat palm to your stomach to pin you down, not letting you rush this—not allowing you.
The sounds of your gasps and whimpers mixed in with the wet sounds of her tongue and fingers is downright sinful as they all echo in this small space of a bunk.
Your hand flies to your mouth, pressing hard against your lips to muffle those noises you so desperately wants to scream for her.
But you can't. Not here.
Your eyes squeeze shut, an all-too familiar heat building in your lower stomach with every passing second.
The effort you’re putting into staying quiet—biting your lip, muffling yourself—makes her heart clench. She wants to hear you. Wants to ruin you. But she understands—they’re on tour, surrounded by people who could walk in any second.
So instead of pushing for noise, Billie focuses on the pressure, the angle of her fingers. When she feels the velvety interior of your walls start to tighten, She speeds up just slightly—testing how close you really are.
God, that angle is utterly destructive. It's almost too much.
Your head falls backwards onto the pillows, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as they blow wide with surprise and pleasure. The choked, muffled sounds of your moans fill the space between them, thighs trembling as your back arches with that heat coiling tight within you.
You’re so close.
She can see it—the way your body locks up, the sudden squeeze of your eyes shutting, the muffled sounds you’re trying so hard to swallow. She wants to push you over—wants to feel you unravel under her touch.
So without warning—without easing up—Billie adds a third finger, curling them deeper while her tongue flicks just right and keeps going at that brutal pace until—you shatter.
The pleasure hitting you like a brick wall as your back arches off the mattress, thighs shaking relentlessly with your eyes rolled back.
God—so fucking good.
Your hand stays firmly pressed against your mouth as you comes down from your high, utterly sensitive and downright flinching with every slight movement of her fingers even after she came to a stop.
Billie stays there—fingers still buried deep inside and holding you down with her free hand—watching in awe as you completely fall apart for her.
When you finally start to come down, she pulls away and slides her fingers out slowly—the wet sound nearly makes you both shiver—before she lifts those fingers to her mouth and licks them clean.
"God... you're so good. Taste so good…” Billie sits up, eyes locked onto your body as you press your thighs back together, the slick heat between them almost audible.
Your eyes meet hers, heavy and dazed as you panted, lips dry and parted. You hummed, hands coming up to her waist and pulling her in, wrapping around her torso as you pressed your face into the side of her neck, breath still uneven.
She can feel just how out of breath you are, the way your muscles are tense, the way your body feels needy under hers.
Her hands slide up to tangle into your hair, fingers running through the soft strands while she whispers against your ear. "You okay, baby?"
The soft rustle of the sheets fill your ears as you nod wordlessly, arms squeezing around her waist just once. You hummed, pressing your face deeper into the skin of her neck.
You’re spent, wrecked and fucked-out, but utterly melting into her.
Billie melts with you, her body molding against yours as she nuzzles into the top of your head—kissing it softly.
No words are needed. The quiet is perfect. Just the sound of your breathing syncing, hearts slowing down together.
Her arms tighten around you—not in passion now, but in pure affection. She presses another kiss to your hair before shifting slightly to pull a blanket over you both, keeping you warm against her chest.
You snuggled into her, embracing the warmth and melting into her skin.
She sighs—content, so content—as you curls into her like this.
There's something so comforting about holding you after moments like that, the intimacy of it, the quiet trust. Her fingers trail lazy patterns along your back under the blanket—gentle touches meant to lull you even deeper into relaxation.
And when she feels your breathing start to even out, she smiles against your hair and closes her eyes too, just enjoying being close like this.
Guys I need him so bad my ovaries started hurting from how horny I was looking at him in game
I only write ftm! Reader
I will write: ftm reader, bottom reader, dom reader, dilf reader, fat reader, piss kink/watersports, petplay, bdsm, spanking, feminine reader, flogging/impact play
I won’t write: incest/fauxcest, cis male reader, female reader of any kind, fart/scat/burping, minor x minor or minor x adult, smut of any character that’s under eighteenth
Dr Eva Stratt / FTM Reader | AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Trans AU MasterList | Tip Jar💰
Warnings: Ftm Reader First Of the Month fic is late / Sailboat Love Confessions / boat of love / S_icide word mentioned but not done / Love Declaration / In memory of Grace / Two lovers at the end of the world au / Older Stratt Younger Reader / Sp_*ler for Life after Project Hail Mary / 2k words / 18+
“I feel like I have the right to ask, Dr. Stratt-”
“Eva, please, we are day drinking, alone in a sailboat, trying to stop global warming. Another impossible task, it’s just us and the ice. You might as well drop the pretense.” The famous scientist tells you as the two of you sit in your sweaters inside the galley of the ‘science expedition.’
“Eva,” you say it softer than intended. It’s not your fault; you had a crush on the scientist before spending 6 months alone on a boat. Now you were downright in love.
She pulls off her beanie as her careful hands hold a mug of what’s left of the black coffee. You’d taken to the tea, seeing as how coffee was the only thing that made Eva not eat you alive in the morning.
The older scientist nods.
“Eva, is this a suicide mission?” You say too quickly, and Eva just gives that sad half-grin. It’s so her, trademark by now. Like Eva’s full smile left with a spaceship.
The scientist doesn’t answer, the boat rocks back and forth, and you just sit in this uncomfortable silence.
It wasn’t the right wording.
Not with what the entire world knew Dr. Eva Stratt as Project Hail Mary. About how she saved the whole world.
Now here she was, years later, older, more lost than ever.
Hiding on a sailboat under an expedition that had no reason to work.
But that wasn’t why you’d used the term suicide mission.
You had to wondered, well, because she wasn’t going to accept a second person on this sailboat - and well, normally expeditions of science had teams…. Teams implying lots and lots of scientists.
And as the ship rocked back and forth and you stared into her tired eyes.
Well, you couldn’t shake the sneaking suspicion. That if Dr. Stratt had come out here to…..
“Eva, is this your-your last mission?” You shake your head trying again.
Your not settled when Eva scofs and lets out a little laugh.
Yeah that didn’t bode well.
She sipped her coffee and then did a little shrug.
“God willing.” She said, both you didn’t feel like the inside joke was directed towards you.
You give a thin smile and try to deduce that one.
“You believe in God?” You try, and Eva doesn’t answer.
She was so hard to get to know, and fuck you’d followed her out here just to spend time with the impenetrable woman.
“Eva why am I here?” You ask again, and the scientist looks at you, really looks.
You’re wearing a beanie offcenter, your glasses hanging by your chin. A small scruffy man, wearing a yellow rain pants and an ugly sweater.
“Did you even want me here? I mean did I really win the grant to do this or are you? Am I here to assist in the end of the amazing Eva Stratt? After al you’ve been through I just-” You stop talking, hating the sound of your own uncertainty. You drop the glasses down on the table in a huff.
Proving yourself a flawed scientists, there was no facts to the feelings in your chest.
Dr. Stratt was old enough to be your mother, hell maybe even grandmother.
You watched Eva assessing you.
“I read thousands of dissertations from young budding scientists who wanted to stop global warming by coming out and taking samples of glaciers.” Eva answers in that autistic dry tone that makes you feel like she’s teaching you more than making conversation.
Your eyes fall down to the chipped red mugs resting on top of a large paper map with all it’s red lines and notes.
“Yes, yes I realize I got the best chance to research an-”
“No, you were the only young scientist who genuinely believed we could stop global warming.” Eva stopped you, and you let out a little breath, the window going towards the top deck fogged over from the heat inside.
Two scientists sailing to the end of the world, heating the galley up like some kind of sex scene.
You stared at Eva trying to discern, always wanting to understand her better.
“So I-”
“It is my last mission, yes, but not like you think. I know you started off with a hero worship. You idolised who I am in the science world. Then it grew from there.” Eva answers matter of fact.
Your face turns the shade of a red balloon, lost in you own embarrassment. Eva is not cruel however, no matter what people might say.
So she continues to speak clearly,
“You are correct in your assessment that the ghosts still haunt me.” Eva holds up her hand before you can speak again.
“I’m more than confident in the deiciosions I made. But I had a chance to love once, and… I did not allow it.”
Eva swallows and you are both staring at each other, the wood creaks in the ship, like it was all her ghosts moaning out. Telling Dr. Stratt to keep going, don’t stop now.
She looks towards a direction, as if a different solar system is giving her permission to try. To forgive. To move on. His words ringing ever persisstsant;
‘You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.’
Eva licks her lips and looks back at you. Not the scientist who coulddn’t fathom how love happens. But as a woman, who’s secluded herself for so long.
“I chose you, not because of the love you remind me of. I won’t lie to you and say that I don’t see him in you, that would not do either of you justice. I was prepared to sail this last time- alone. As I thought I so deserved. When an old friend told me of a young scientist who believed.” Eva holds back an emotion you didn’t know she could so freely reach.
You watch stunned as her eyes grow glassey, gazing at you far beyond any loved one ever had.
As if Eva can see you to your bones, everything you ever were, and all the things you would accomplish long after she was gone.
The hairs on your arms stood at attention, destiny coming to kiss you in real time. Sinking in far past the layers of winter outside this measly kitchenett.
Eva works her best to, for you, power through.
“I brought you here because I- I needed someone to sit with me over a map and a cup of coffee. I needed to believe humanity was worth it again. Seeing you taking samples of ice sure that you will save them. It reminds me…..”
Eva loses her voice and grows to stone again.
“I chose you. I would like to consummate this.” Eva says plainly and you cough on your own spit.
“What?”
“I see no reason to let this game drag on another six months. I had assumed by your nighttime activities and the way your eyes dilate when you see me that we were past these odd societal mating rituals.” Eva used the same tone she would while telling you to take the night shift in sailing.
“Eva?” You croak managing to stop the coughing fits, drinking the tea to help. Gulping down your own anxiety with it.
“I believe two souls in a boat could belong to one another, it’s not scientific, but maybe not all things are.” Eva chuckles like she’s a mad old woman who’s forgotten the laws of the universe.
“Eva,” your voice cracks again and you’re sweating now. You take off your beanie and the strands of hair are wet and stick to your forehead.
Eva tilts her head again and gives you a kind expression.
“Ah, you are a virgin.” Eva deduces from your discomfort.
You laugh uncomfortably, that was the least of your problems.
“Dr- Eva, I think I have to explain I-I mean I’d only ever been to two states. I’m not who you think I- I don’t.” You squeak, sure that you will die of mortification. You close your eyes tight and your chin drops to your chest.
“I had all of your medical records, backround checks, all of it before you came onboard.” Eva tells you and your head snaps back up, gaze shocked.
“So you know-this whole time you- you knew. You -you know? ” You are practically yelling it at her, but you just can’t believe it’s been six months and Eva hadn’t said a thing.
Her expression is blank, no malice, no anger. Eva has lived too much life to be deterred by simple things like the conversation of sex or gender. Much less sexuality, she’d only ever been attracted to four people. As a child the villain Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle. Mike Degrasse Tyson, for obvious reasons. A lost astronaut, and now a man who has sailed by her side faithfully for six months
Who made her coffee and knew better than to ask how she slept, for fear of her wrath. Who pointed out every star in the night sky and regained her with childish glee of stories.
“You-You still want to-“
“Seduce you?” Eva tried the words and you both attempted to decode that.
“Is that what we are calling it?” You smile now and it quells whatever small uncertainty Eva might have still had of your rejection.
“Consummating our mutual attraction and desire for companionship?” Eva attempts again and you scrunch your nose at that one.
“Too cold and clinical, something sweeter?” You ask and desire blooms for the llder woman.
“Making love.” She decides on, knowing logically what the two words meant. The root of them, the latin, the doctor could say the phrase in seventeen languages.
But saying them outloud to you now, Eva felt as though she must study more. Until her desire is matched right back;
“I think we can make that one work.” Your smile is blinding, it heats Eva up. She doesn't have time to explain the chemical reaction to herself.
You lean forward, Eva tentatively moves slower, but she goes halfway.
Your lips press together and it’s better than the baking soda reacting in a volcano diorama at a science fair.
It’s perfect math, it’s science evolving, it’s human in its raw form.
It’s reason to believe in something bigger again.
Eva kisses your lips harder, more sure now, not tentative. If this is her final mission then no rock must go unturned. Her scared aged hands cup the back of your head and she doesn’t let you go. Won’t ever let you go.
This must be why man made fire.
Eva would light up the skies as long as it gave you even a fraction of the warmth she felt in her chest for you.
Then you delivered the sweetest morsel back.
You moaned.
Oh what a moan, and Eva knew this would need further research. She nibbled on your bottom lip. As Eva had been desperately wanting to this whole time, watching as you abused the plump flesh while you typed. No Eva wanted to sink her teeth in, and sure enough -
You whined harder, longer, letting Eva lick the hurt.
Oh maybe Eva would never come back to humanity.
If she could crawl on top of you, move this small table, she’d find a home on your arms. Better than the stars above or the vastness of all the water on Earth.
Your tongue licks at hers and Eva wants to say ‘one small step for man-‘
Because now the old scientist is making noises, pornographic noises if need.
Damn it your tongue was warm and hot, and oh so worth the wait.
Your heads are hit, the lamp dangling above and it breaks your kiss, it should be awkward. But with both of your appetites now ablaze.
Nothing could be odd or weird between you two again.
“I apologize, if I ever was I don’t want to be for you- it is not ever my intention to be- cold…or clinical.” Eva says an inch from your face, a lifetime of being called a frigid bitch. Even as the most amazing scientist in the world, Eva just wanted to be loved back in this lifetime.
You cup her face, seeing the lines of age and sunspots from days of uncertainty.
“I don’t think you could be if you tried.” You giggle and Eva likes this noise, wants you to do it again. To laugh for her, to hold her face like this.
The light is circling making your two shadows dance along the cabin. From the light cast out, your silhouettes don’t look like ever before. For two is now one, practically heart shaped. The light isn’t sure where your lips start and her hold on your neck ends.
Eva releases you and you momentarily panic, as she comes around the tiny awkward table. Holding a hand out, you swallow thickly.
“To my final mission?” The scientist requests, and your warm hand finds her. Two travelers in the universe, ready for one last adventure, to be lost together.
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gator, good sir, I was wondering if you could elaborate more on the forcemasc with Hollanov. it was simply delectable what you gave us but unfortunately I crave more. I feel like a beggar, i apologize my lord
Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov x ftm reader
Headcanons
Writing this as a part two to the other part, which you can find here. I tried to make em be a lil meaner this time, cuz it makes me hard.
Once again, TW for themes of toxic masculinity and misogyny, cuz they’re hockey players and this is a forcemasc story.
The next morning, part of you thinks it was all a dream, or some weird kink or fantasy the two of them have. Even when you wake up between Ilya and Shane in their bed, wearing a pair of boxers, and your uterus hurting like a motherfucker.
It feels kinda like a period, but there’s no blood, like your body is freaking out by the sudden influx of masculine hormones.
Remembering what they’d done, does make your heart drop into your ass, because holy fuck. That's just too far. And all the gross things they were saying about you and your... your? Team?
You do successfully climb over Shane, because he’s a deeper sleeper than Ilya, and tumble into the bathroom, too focused on your own reflection to lock the door after you.
The face staring back at you is your own, there’s not gone anywhere near enough time for the T to do a difference, but it feels different. There’s no stubble, darker eyebrows or squaring of your features, but you can feel it, in a weird way.
The short hairstyle Shane and Ilya have given you looks goofy, clearly cut by someone who isn’t used to cutting hair, but it’s euphoric and humiliating.
You can’t help but just stand there, looking at yourself, breathing just a bit too fast and freaking out. Your breasts become a burning spot to focus on. You've always had a weird relationship with your own body, but especially your chest.
You've always wanted to run around without a shirt on, but at some point you couldn’t, and it always set you aside from the guys you liked to play sports with. Especially when they’d play skins vs shirts.
The thoughts spiral so much, that you don’t feel Ilya enter the bathroom. He would have woken up the moment you started rummaging around, being a light sleeper and all.
You yelp and jolt when two large hands reach out from behind you, covering your breasts and pulling them from the sides, in the same motion you would do to tape them flat.
His chin rests on your shoulder as he stares back at you through the mirror. Ilya has always had this intense look in his eyes, like he can see right through you, and he wants to see everything you are underneath.
And maybe some part of you is even scared, under that bubbling unknown mixture of excitement and shame. He's just so much bigger than you, stronger than you, more... everything.
Being childhood best friends with Shane has saved you from a lot of dysphoria or weird comparison, because that’s just Shane, you know? So what if Shane is built like a god, and that Shane can lift more than you, run more, do more. That's just Shane.
But Ilya? He's everything you can’t be, and some part of your mind has always felt sour about it. Over the years you could blame it on him and Shane being rivals, and it being loyalty to Shane.
But standing here trapped in his arms, with Ilya’s muscular arms and wide shoulders being so different from your own softer features, makes the ugly feeling in your chest bloom.
Ilya, of course, can tell, it’s creepy how he always seems to be able to tell what you, Shane and others are feeling.
He smirks, like a fox or maybe more a wolf, as he presses a wet kiss to the side of your neck, his hands squeezing your chest so hard it hurts.
You shiver as his accented voice rumbles about getting rid of them, your breasts, and how long the recovery will take, and the training you’d need to go through to be able to get on the ice again.
You want to open your mouth, to snap at him or yell, to do something, but you can’t. All you can do is tear up and try to wiggle free, like a mouse in the claw of an eagle.
Ilya just sighs as he shoves his knee between your thighs, grinding it against your cunt through the fabric of the boxers they’d shoved on you. He coos so meanly to you, his words for degrading and insulting.
He calls you a dumb little boy, who just doesn’t know the truth yet, but don’t worry, they’ll show you. They'll help you become the man you’ve always been on the inside. Even if they have to force him out of you.
You try to deny it, because you have to, it’s just how it’s always been. Ilya shuts you up by kissing you, dominating your mouth with the same intensity as he seems to dominate most things in his life.
His fingers are rough and calloused from years of rough sports, as they are shoved down the front of your boxers. They pinch your clit, your cock, he says, his expression turning mean when you say it’s not a dick.
“if it’s not, then why are you hard?” he coos, as his fingers jerk what little they can. There's been no growth to it yet, and Ilya makes sure to point out how small your dick is. But no worries, he’s looked up how to get it nice and big.
Only after Ilya makes you orgasm so hard you cry, does he bring you back to the bedroom.
Shane’s awake, laptop in his lap and glasses on. He’s really hot with glasses on, but you feel a little too wobbly and sniffly to care too much. Instead you lay down and try to turn to him for comfort, because Ilya is so mean.
Shane just chuckles at you, running his hands through your hair, as he mumbles and coos to you the same way he would a hurt dog. You almost think you’ve found your savior, or someone nicer, as you curl up and let him pet you.
That is, until you hear what they’re talking about. Shane’s already sent emails from your personal account, how did he have that? And has resigned you from your PWHL team.
That makes you snap up, ready to yell, cry, scream, something. But it gets cut off before you can even make a noise, as Shane shoves you back down, trapping your head between his thighs.
His strong thighs lock around your head, smushing your face into his crotch, the more you wiggle the harder he gets, your tears and whines soaking into his briefs.
There's a part of your brains that’s sure you probably could wiggle free, if you get violent and all that, but some smaller part of you doesn’t want to.
It feels so humiliating, so disgusting and mean, as they talk about your team, former team? As if they’re lesser for being women. Like you being a woman would be a bad thing.
Your body feels hot and uncomfortable when they talk about you, about injections, hormones, surgery, and the ‘masculine diet’ you’d need to be on, to bulk up right.
At some point, most of the fight melts out of you, leaving you whimpering and sniffling, face pressed into the crease between Shane’s thigh and torso.
The musk is... good. Shane doesn’t smell too bad, being as obsessed with being clean as he is. But there’s still the underlying stink of man, a scent you’ve never carried yourself.
One of them pets your hair and calls you a sad little sniffy puppy, even pushing you deeper into the crease, pushing your head down to nuzzle into his sack. It's all muffled and useless though.
Your legs are all jello when Ilya pulls you to your feet, head foggy and face covered in tears, spit and snot.
Shane kisses you, hungry and wet, like the sight of you being ‘filthy’ makes you more masculine in his eyes. The kiss is sloppy and possessive, his tongue running against your teeth.
They work together to pull some shorts and a tanktop on you, dragging you to their at home gym. It seems the talk of making you work out hadn’t been a joke. Even with your head as foggy as it is, you get a feeling that this won’t be easy.
Gideon has some extensive medical knowlage right? I know its probbly in virology and not anything endocrine or related but we're gonna use doctor as a catch all here so I bet he would be able to give me a cock.
Not only that but form my body to fit more of what it was ment to be, and since it's my first time in a body like this and he is my doctor in this instance it's only fair that he be there to help me learn about my new body and also throughly inspect it yeah?
🧪 💉🐍💉 🧪
Gideon x reader he transitioned (ftm)
It hadent been long since Gideon had managed the magic of putting you under and having you wake with a compleatly new body. He assured you this was your flesh and that he hadn't stolen one from somewhere else for you to use but it was hard to believe.
You were taller now, your wardrobe barley fitting much to Gideon's pleasure you assumed as you had caught him staring at your old clothes cupping your form in a lewed manner and that fact that you relied on him to both chose and get your new wardrobe. Yeah, he was happy as a clam.
Waking up on the table and reaching the ground sooner when you got off was an adjustment as was almost every other action.
Reaching for a door handle? You highballed it and an action that was automatic before had you pausing conversation to actualy look where it was.
Desks that you had to put a bit more force into opening before slid open easier with some of them almost flying out of the desk they were in to your suprised yelp followed by a breathy chuckle from across the room and a lighthearted comment about being kind to the furnature.
To your disappintment you would have to sculpt some of your body on your own, mucle still required upkeep and you weren't quite where you wanted to be yet but the good doctor was more than happy to spot you while you took part in becoming a self made man. You swore you heard his breathing become a little unsteady and his visor wirring everytime he accompanied you, pervert probbly taking pictures to save for later.
Calling him out on it one time only garnered the responce," as the doctor overseeing your transition it's importiant I keep a record of your progress, don't you want to be able to look back at how far you've come later?" Despite the fact this was your doing and not his medical induced one.
Gideon had also insisted on making sure your... equipment worked, and he did so throughly.
Though you were bigger now your size was not enough to compete with his own. It was so easy for him to pin you to his lap or hold you down in a chair or wrangle you into an exam table or bend you over a table or really put you anywhere when he jacked you off.
A particular favorite of his was having you in his lap, he could feel every twich of your form this way no reaction of yours would go unnoticed absorbed into the material of a chair or table.
He could look down on his lap to see your frontside, your expression when you threw your head back and if you didn't he had another hand to tilt it upward to face his visor so he could commit every detail to memory despite his less than perfect eyes.
You could escape or squirm away seated on him either, your legs hanging off of his own unable to reach the floor especialy with his arm wrapped around pinning your pelvis to his.
This position didnt only allow him to observe, he was a considerate partner afterall and you could pick up on things from your throne on his lap too.
Like your back to his chest picking up on his mutated heartbeat hammering away in excitement that would pick up a little everytime you made a noise at a twist of his wrist or a squeeze of his fingers.
You felt his excitement in otherways with your cushy ass on his pelvis. Able to feel his stiff heavy cock straining in his workpants and throbbing through them. You could almost feel its anger at the layers that separated you two.
Sitting on his lap behind a desk allowed for some fun when others came by the room. Sure it was weird to see a stranger in causal wear on their bosses lap but he was a weird guy and it wasn't the worst thing he had done at least thats what Gideon told you to get you to go along with it. So long as you keep quitlet with his hand down your pants all would be well.
His other favorite position was having you on a medical examination table weather it be on your back limbs scrambling on his own as he held you down overstimulating your poor cock that was so new to the sensations as you cried and keened or it was having you bent over cock stuck behind your thighs as he jacked you off with your involuntary thrusts doing nothing to further your cock into his hand at this angle.
Your first blowjob you swear nearly killed you, seeing Gideon on his knees in front of you was one thing but to have his split tounge and oddly cool mouth envelop you while he proved he was skilled worth his years was another.
Gideons humming in delight as you curled around him desperately trying to pry him off while your hips kept thrusting in confused and overstimulated caused you tears as moans kept pouring out of your mouth.
When he had wrung a third orgasm out of you from that same blowjob he made a show of all the "sample" he had collected in his mouth splaying it on his split tounge playing with it before swallowing and declaring it was contaminated the seccond it hit his mouth and he would need another sample.
Anytime you complained about it all being too much he'd simply reprimand you with," oh? But your much younger than me mouse, surely a stud like you can handle it? Not yet burden by age like me" or," as your doctor its my job to make sure everything is working correctly, wouldnt want something going wrong now would we? It would be irresponsible of me to check throughly~"
Gideon would make sure that every part of your new body was fit to standard and worked the best science could offer, only the best for his pacient and new boytoy afterall, you were getting what you wanted so it was only fair and surely from how much you seemed to enjoy it too you didn't mind.
