#trans ghost

[chronicgaywizard]

Trans ghost x trans reader ahoy

NSFW: frotting, t4t ghost come shove your dick in my mouth

Ghost had always been oddly cagey about his body. Never showered in communal, never changed in front of anybody. You assumed he just had crazy scars, or maybe his dick was mangled or maybe he only had one ball or something like that.

Never in a million years though did you think he was like you. It was strange, how the man seemed to helicopter you nonstop across base once you came onto the team. Their first trans man- freshly healed top, maybe only a year or two on T since you’d started later in life. At first you thought he was being a prick- always staring through you like he wanted to steal your soul.

Then- one night at the bar, when he pinned you to the booth and viscously made out with you before stomping off to the bathroom without explanation- you figured he just had a perverted curiosity, which made you sour. Cause he went right back to silently hovering after that, following at a distance but never engaging unless you did first.

Until tonight. When you were all drunk in the rec room, everyone else passed out around you as the tv played low. Of course Simon had climbed you desperately, huge hands pawing at your sides and your flat chest with a sweet groan of appreciation. Oddly gentle for a 6’4 hulk of a beast man- greedy, weird and unwilling to dance around it anymore.

But you were just as greedy, delighted to be desired in any capacity- until he ground down against you, and was- completely soft. You pulled away mid kiss, spit still smeared across your lips as you cupped his face.

“Hey- baby, you okay? You don’t feel very um- excited,” you say gently- prepping to be told that he couldn’t do it after all, that his curiousity had run out-

“Hard to feel me wet through these trousers- but believe me, ah’m hard as a fuckin’ rock,” he grunted back, smirk ghosting across his cleft lip. Your fingers tightened against his hips, blinking rapidly. What? What? Wet?

So of course you pinned him to the sofa, yanked his pants down and- there it was.

The most delicious, puffy pussy and t dick you’d ever seen- hairy, blonde dusting his scarred skin as his holes winked back at you. Soaking through his boxers, sticky strands snapping as you yanked the material down. Holy shit.

“You’re-“ you start, before forgetting what the fuck you were going to say. Maybe Ghost could see the way you were drooling, deciding to skip the niceties and smothered your face against his fat fucking pussy. Swallowing him down like an animal, swirling the head of his little cock with your tongue while he gasped and groaned in appreciation. It was magnificent, like ambrosia on the tongue as you ate your own lieutenant like it was your last meal on earth.

“Thaaaat’s it, runt. Come on- suck me off like a good little soldier. Knew you would- eager, just like I used to be. Started- ah- gettin’ the needle while you were still pretending you were a girl- ain’t that funny? What a fuckin- joke,” he snarled, hips jerking up into your desperate mouth. Fuck- your hips ground desperately against the couch, your own little swollen cock throbbing at every word. He was older- what you could be, given enough time. Hairy, thick and muscular- with a fat pussy to match his huge frame.

You let out a desperate whine, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he came in your mouth- clearly as excited about you and your pitiful little body- so ready to be molded into something like him. And you wanted to- fuck, you- fuck-

Had you ever cum in your pants before? You couldn’t remember- this was probably the first time. Who knew, all that you knew was the sweet whimpering of the big bad Ghost beneath you as you sucked him off into overstimulation. Refusing to pull off until he ripped you off himself, trapping you in a knee lock with his legs and making you whine.

You don’t even realize you’re being dragged up his body again, too busy licking the cum off your lips as he pins you to the couch again- and rips your own pants off this time too. Letting out a scoff and pinching your cock- your back arching off the sofa at the sudden harsh sensation.

“Fuck- Ghost-!” You grunt, but you’re shoved back down as he climbs over you. Angling his hips, and letting out a laugh.

“Fuckin pitiful cock, next to mine. Give it a couple years, right soldier? Maybe then you’ll have a real cock, stead of this little prick,” he grunts, grinding his t dick down on you as you let out a surprised moan. Holy shit, that felt fucking good.

“Ghost-“ you try again, only to be swallowed whole as he shoves his mask up, smashing your lips together so violently it splits your lip. The blood mixes heavenly, everything rushing everywhere to the point that you can barely function. Just desperately grinding your own cock back against his, frotting like a poor dog in heat.

“Wanna be my boy, hm? Wanna be daddy’s stupid little prick, let me come on you whenever I like? Mark you up- make sure everybody knows the Ghost haunts you, eh?” He continues, and you’re stuck between a laugh and a high moan at the cheesy joke when stars flash across your eyes again and you gush against him- coating both of you in your sticky essence.

“Guess that’s a yes,” he grunts, not stopping for even a single thrust as you cry out and jerk against him.

“Yes- yes- fuck- bleed me dry- wanna- fuck, wanna be like you, Ghost,” you whimper out, drool hanging from your lip now as you feel his hips thrust faster- faster, faster.

“Yeah? Poor little boy, I’ll- make you a fucking man, make- you- mine-“ he moans roughly, thick thighs nearly crushing your pelvis as he shakes through his second orgasm- finally collapsing and crushing you under his massive frame. You let out a choked squawk, but find the heavy sensation delightful on your already fuzzy head.

Well. Ghost was trans, and you were his now.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

It takes Ghost no time at all to figure out that Gaz feels uncomfortable in his body. It's the way he flinches around the eyes when Price calls him a good man, the microsecond of hesitation before he enters a locker room. It's his careful avoidance of mirrors.

"Garrick," it calls, pulling Kyle from the door to the lockers. "Wi' me."

Ghost leads him down a service hall and around a corner, to a little storage room its claimed for itself. There's a bench and a half-wall of tall lockers.

"Far right is mine," Ghost tells him. "C'n 'ave the one next to it. Rest is f' the custodians, but they respect a locked door."

Gaz's face is pinched, the way it gets when he's miffed but biting his tongue. His eyes scan everything, before he says, "No shower."

"Service sink." Ghost points to the opposite corner from the door. "'s not perfect. But. It's better than bein' around all those... people."

"You don't like being perceived."

"Not as a man, no."

Gaz's eyes snap up to the mask. "No? How should you be perceived?"

"'m a weapon."

"Ah."

"'n you?" Ghost cocks its head, examines Gaz's closed off expression. "Not a weapon, then?"

They hold eye contact for a long moment, and the corner of Gaz's mouth tips up. "No. Not a weapon. I'm, ah... a woman."

Ghost takes a short moment to think. Nods. Points to her. "She." Points to itself. "It." He circles his finger in the air. "Our lockers, yeah?"

And Gaz's shoulders drop. She smiles. "Yeah, Ghost. Ours."

[peepawpricexhat]

The 2am sketches always hit different. Maybe it's the cryptid energy.

Will I finish it someday? Maybe.

Enjoy some buff, squish, nom nom trans ghost. I already want to make them...

Larger.

[arabellasfvv]

Ftm!Simon has a very specific way of wanting to be fucked by a cis man. And they have about 5 minutes to get it right before his patients runs out. He's throwing them down onto his mattress sitting that pretty cunt down on their face. Doesn't matter if they can't breath, his cock is getting sucked either way.

All the while he's leaned down their body to push (lubed up, because he is still nice enough) fingers into their ass to prep them for whats about to come.

And then they're done for. Prep takes as long as they take to make him cum on their mouth. And after he's strapping on his pretty pink and black dildo, throwing the guy into doggy or a mating press and absolutely fucks them dumb.

He's not done until he sees tears starting to build and their useless cock shooting blanks as they beg for him to stop, but also for "more, harder, please, more."

"Got a damn cock for nothing." He grumbles while digging his teeth into their shoulders. Making sure a mark of their submission would linger for days.

[karlachismylife]

Blood on the Sheets

Day three of @transghoapweek: Hurt/Comfort

CW: 844 words, transmasc!Ghost x Soap, menstruation (unexpected), comfort in a cold and unfriendly place, allusions to potential planning of pregnancy. This work was written in Russian and then translated by me myself thus the language might be shittier than usual.

divider by @/gildui-archived

Johnny wakes up to a bone-chilling cold — his teeth chattering as he breathes in — and immediately realizes Simon has crawled out of bed in a hurry. He hasn't even tucked the blanket back in to protect Johnny from the draft, as he's become accustomed to doing when taking a pre-dawn smoke break in this realm of circumpolar night; he's left his corner thrown back and rumpled. Johnny instantly sits up straight in bed and listens warily. Their temporary abode is quiet. So, not an attack.

Finding the cord hanging from the headboard, he turns on the dim yellow lamp with a shade adorned with pistachio-colored zigzags of lilies and gets up, feeling the cold mercilessly bite into his skin, warm from sleep. Walking around the bed to reach the half-open bedroom door, Soap, almost as if led by a sixth sense, takes another look at Simon's messy bed and feels a chill in his gut.

A blood stain darkens on the sheet, almost black in the crappy lighting.

"Si? Simon! Si, where the hell are ye?" Johnny's still hoarse voice sounds deceptively free of panic, but his bare feet stomp hastily across the chilly floor. Soap has no idea what's happened — his operating system, not fully loaded yet, is entirely focused on finding Ghost and administering first aid if necessary; he'll figure out later whether it's just Ghost's nose bleeding from a particularly bad nightmare or he managed to hide a wound from Johnny for two days after a recent run-in with enemy operators.

"Johnny? I'm here. Did I wake you?" a low voice spills out into the cramped hallway, along with a narrow strip of light from under the bathroom door, and Johnny, without thinking, grabs the loose handle.

Simon stands in the small room that seems even smaller because of his size, alive and well — except for a dark shadow from lack of sleep under the eye Johnny sees from the doorway.

"Everything a'right, Si? Ah woke up, ye're gone, and-" Johnny trails off, frowning in confusion as Simon, seemingly ignoring him, hooks his thumbs under the elastic of his boxers and pulls them down, sighing as he strips naked. "Simon, what are ye do- oh, shite."

It's barely visible on the black cotton of his boxers — only a damp sheen shines under the light — but Ghost's fingers that brushed along the seam are smeared with red paint.

"Doc warned it might come back," Simon explains, clicking his tongue in displeasure as he tosses the dirty boxers into the sink to wash. Johnny finally unfreezes from his spot and steps over the threshold onto the chilly tile, closing the door behind him so as not to freeze Ghost while he cleans himself. "Jus' gonna run some tests when we get back..."

The thermostat heating their water in this shack hums, filling the air with plump clouds of steam that instantly coat the mirror with sweat, so that Johnny sees only a shaggy image of himself as he reaches into the cabinet behind the mirror and pulls painkillers from the medkit. Simon takes two white tablets from his hand and swallows them straight, along with a handful of tap water, causing Johnny to grumble.

"So, that's what woke ye up?" he asks, just in case, wrapping Simon in a balding towel. Simon nods silently, rustling with the packaging of his pad, and with the resigned sigh of a man awakened by cramps at three in the morning pulls on clean underwear, scrunching his nose as he does so — the pills haven't taken effect yet. Soap hangs up the towel and plasters himself against Simon's back, stifling a yawn and eagerly sharing his excess warmth. The thoughts in his head are as thick as the snowy northern night outside, but they move as predictably as the moon in its arc. "So we better wrap it for now-" "Yes." "Or nae..."

Simon, who had been standing motionless until then, trying to muster the strength to walk back to the bedroom and change the sheets under the persistent dizziness, suddenly wakes up and glances over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.

"What do you mean, no?" The confusion evaporates from his dark eyes as Johnny's hot palm lands on his tense abs, stroking roughly where the twisting spasms are raging. It's replaced by vulnerable confusion before Simon looks away again with an embarrassed snort. Soap also stirs behind him, opening his mouth to take back the words that escaped him in the absence of inhibitors due to drowsiness, but Ghost only shakes his head and covers his hand with his own. "We'll talk about this later, Johnny. Definitely not on an op."

Soap isn't going to argue with that. Just like he agrees to wait until morning to wash out the stain on the sheet — for now they savagely crumble the sheet so Simon doesn't lie on it, and wrap themselves in the blanket. Johnny's hand rests on the scar under Ghost's chest — an embrace without a draft is the best way to sleep, after all.

[jepzer0]

Soap hates needles. Like hate hates them. That's why he uses gel over shots for his testosterone and avoids going to the medical wing as much as possible and hangs out with ghost instead. Who also avoids it for other reasons.

One mission though he gets bitten by a rapid dog and has to get a rabies shot. Ghost holds his hand the entire time as soap rambles at him as a way of distracting himself.

[stellewriites]

every minute, every hour, every day

trans!butch!simon x reader, pure fluff & comfort

part of @fairyboygenius’ sapphic week prompts! was very excited to take part in this :3

chosen prompt: june 20th u-haul & butchify a cod character

it felt like the world was against you moving in with si.

you could only take so many coincidences before you started seeing a pattern and that morning, there had been enough to count on both hands.

the truck had been a nightmare to organise in the first place when the company fucked up your booking date last minute and refused to give you a truck in the morning until si threatened to come down there and give them a piece of her mind.

after heavily censoring a message from si to the desk clerk, you were able to get a truck, just a good hour and a half later than planned. it was also clearly an older model, not that you or si would care, but you sniffed at how much it’d be costing you.

you’d then trapped your hand under the heavy sofa when you’d tried to help si lift it onto the u-haul truck, yelping in pain until she was able to ease it off again and you could slip it close to your chest protectively with a wince. she’d checked it over and wrapped it as soon as you were back upstairs in your flat with the first aid kit, but the ache stayed for the rest of the day.

after hoping that would be the end of your bad luck, si had tried carrying your record player you’d found at a garage sale along with two heavy boxes down the stairs to save time after your injury had you flagging. and despite your several warnings to go careful and offerings to still help, she promised she was capable so you left her be. those promises turned stale in her mouth when she tripped on the last step of the stairs and your record player went flying out of the wedged-open front door, smashing on the pavement.

you’d found her a few minutes later knelt and picking up the pieces with wide, worried eyes and you could only sigh, forcefully slow, through your nose.

when you finally had everything packed up and the keys returned to your now ex-landlord, you both got into the car with giddy smiles only to find that the a/c wasn’t working anymore.

you flicked at the buttons and temperature gauge until si shooed your hands away to do the same. you could’ve sworn it had worked on the drive over from the depot.

with no other option, the pair of you shrugged and set off with the windows wound all the way down instead.

no a/c wouldn’t be an issue on your average british day, even in the summer, but there had been an unexpected heatwave over the last week - fuck you climate change - and the pair of you were sweating buckets only ten minutes into the journey.

yeah, it really felt like everything was against you and the move.

not five minutes later, si pulled over into a sainsbury’s car park and hauled herself out with a huff, leaving you sat in the greenhouse of a front cab without a word. you frowned and waited her out, messing around with the music on your phone until you found a summer playlist from seven or so years back. there were a few old favourites you’d forgotten about and you tapped your foot along to them.

suddenly something cold landed on your legs and you sucked in a sharp breath as you picked it up reflexively.

a calippo…

your favourite ice lolly and just what you needed right then.

you grinned across at si and leant in for a chaste kiss, tasting the sweat from her upper lip despite the caution.

“thank you.”

she shrugged and stuck her unwrapped twister in her mouth before turning the engine back on and setting off back on the road.

you cut your eyes across to your girlfriend when you heard her humming along to a song and bit your lip to keep your smile from becoming too obvious. you knew this game.

if you waited her out without paying too much attention, she’d be singing at the top of her lungs in no time, but if you made a fuss too soon then she’d recede into her shell.

you started to sing along lightly, skipping a few lines here and there when you didn’t know them and to make sure si was getting louder alongside you.

you grinned and reached over to squeeze her thigh when your patience paid off and she started to sing off key with confidence, her voice harmonising in a cackle with yours as she drove along, your voices drowning out the music even as you sang the wrong lyrics.

the pair of you laughed when the song came to an end and at the first sign of a red light, she was leaning over to taste your orange ice lolly on your tongue.

the drive went a lot quicker after that. and unpacking went a lot smoother once you got to your new house, even with you insisting you could still help with your injured hand.

si made sure to stop what she was doing and kiss your knuckles gently every time she saw your face twist in pain when you put down another box in the living room.

you cooed and pouted until she’d lean in and kiss your lips too, snuggling into her chest when she went to kiss your crown as a third and final signature of love as you worked to put together your new home.

you watched her longingly in the evening when she tried to find the plates and cutlery in the incorrectly labelled boxes after you ordered takeaway for dinner. you knew then and there that you’d be spending the rest of your life with her if you had any say, no matter how many obstacles tried to get in your way.

“think we’ll have to use our ‘ands,” she hummed, defeated. her hands were on his hips as she looked over the boxes she was sure she’d packed them away in yesterday. a stray thought came to mind that if those had gone missing then god knows where her oestrogel was packed away among all of this; she’d need to find that again by morning.

you squeezed her around her waist tightly and smiled goofily into her sweaty shoulder.

at the press of teeth she peeked over her shoulder at you. “y’better not bite me.”

“no promises,” you whispered cheekily, but you only kissed her shoulder sweetly and sighed. “i love you so much.”

[sexy-neena]

Reblog if you want to go down your knees