Hi but like GRAY FULLBUSTER IS TRANS???? IN A MODERN AU? THE BOY GOT HIS T & HIS FUCKIN TOP SURGERY. He refused to wear a shirt for a fucking week afterwards & it became a habit. He never wears a shirt if he can avoid it. Fairy Tail is an orphanage that he goes to & they helped him get T. He saved up for top surgery & his friends also helped because they would never sit out for something so important.
Gray is overenthusiastic to give his old binders to Sting who immediately starts crying. He's just proud he got fucking top surgery. If he's mad about a transphobe he broadcasts his trans status in safe spaces. Gray has definitely gotten people wanting to " beat the trans out of him " but no one stands a fucking chance in front of a pissed off Laxus.
He's unofficially one of Laxus's favorites & that's a fucking accomplishment because Laxus never exactly likes anyone. He starts to cry when two women (married because lesbian rights I fucking said) want to adopt him. Ultear & Her wife (idfk who yet send in suggestions) adore Gray.
Gray at first is super sad & thinks he's never gonna see the orphanage again but his mom's let him go and visit. He likes that he can see everyone & all of them don't treat him differently. Natsu gets adopted by a man named Igneel & moves away (the substituted " gone for a year " arc) for a year. Everyone fucking hates it especially Erza & Gray.
Everyone is shook when Natsu appears again and tackles both Erza & Gray yelling loudly. Erza gets adopted by Igneel & Gray finds out his dumbass boyfriend is staying this time & that Igneel needed the year to wrap up his business & move locations to here.
Idfk what an ending would be other than Gray & Natsu probably getting in trouble with Erza. Anyways that's my half put together au I'm tagging it under: moon ft & no I don't know why I'm saying the tag for this is moon ft don't even ask me.
Position 97. Shining Another piece in the Kama Sutra works for Fairy Tail on AO3. NS//FW under the cut
Summary: Sting’s constant chasing would never stray, stubborn in his own right. Coming face to face with the battle that raged in his conscious -finding Minerva. Pairing: Stinerva
Characters: Sting Eucliffe, Minerva Orlando, Rogue Cheney
Words: 2.5k
Rating: M
AO3 | FFNet
It was an awful day; he knew it and she knew it. Every puff and stride Minerva took welling the frustrations he felt himself. “C’mon, baby. We have tomorrow. Sit down with me.”
He patted the mattress, better than the ones he took with Rogue; Minerva never accepting of the best. The top brands, clothes, shoes, status -but what was it all worth in the end? If they kept chasing circles like this an answer would never be found. And at this point he knew it wasn’t about the mission.
“Baby -just look at yourself. What the hell was that?” The silk of her dress matched her state of mind. Unrelentlessly pacing the expanse of their suite, coming back and forth through the door.
Sting laid back on the bed, pursing his lips. A shower would soothe his troubles but Minerva would go back if left alone. Those they had been pursuing stealing his own competence in the midst of battle. Damned fairies. One small fluke and everything had been lost. The thoughts he had curling around the brilliance he was building -they were building.
He tried again. “Don’t be so gloom, Minnie.” In her tracks she turned into a board, stiffened straight. It brought back their earliest memories and it lifted his frown; the nickname dancing across his tongue. Every syllable ephemeral to his senses, wishing that it was the same for Minerva.
Everything serene taken from her sheer abrasiveness, “Sting, don’t do this now.”
But he sang it aloud, with jubilation as he chanted the childhood name. “My little mouse, your ears have become loose. Let me fix them.”
Unrelenting and frigid as she stared him down, only worsening his sly teasing. Minerva wouldn't do anything; for she secretly loved it. Loved the memories they had shared behind her father's back. He ruminated on his way over, maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to approach her.
"You saved our asses out there, y'know." Gently prying open her folded arms, fingers sliding over the broken silk. Almost electrifying as he passed over her olive skin.
She glowered, "Tell me something I don't know." Her hands settling in his chest -holding back a whimper as her thumbs rubbed over the scars. A final warning, "I will find myself another room. It's over, for now."
His hands still managing to creep up into her obsidian locks. Tension subsiding from her jaw, down to her shoulders as he pulled through. Careful not to disturb her small buns as he combed through every knot. As every bump was smoothed, they descended to the floor. Minerva falling into his arms.
Exhaustion finally consuming her being. "Tomorrow. We'll be on our way home tomorrow."
"They're already out of the woods," scoffing at his optimism. His fingers playing with the two knots settled on her head. Decrowning her of the title he'd bestowed, all traces of a mouse gone.
Sting wasn't sure if there was anything else to say. Only one other way to soothe her doubts, fearing for himself as he crooned down. His lips doting on the crown of her hair. "Sting…," her eyes swimming as she looked up, "Don't make a mistake."
But this was his girlfriend. His lips diving on the her cupid's bow, savoring the chalky red lipstick. Holding her chin as he pressed into her, ready to give what Minerva wanted. She pulled away for a brief moment, only to be covered by his once more. He needed this. "Please," he whimpered.
Swelling with joy as she turned swiftly, falling into each other. The comforter pulled from the bed as Sting haphazardly placed it on the floor, afraid to release the tigress within his hands. He inched toward the zipper on her back, Minerva's bosom arching into him. His hesitation dissipating as he disrobed her, descending upon her curves as they laid on the floor. A beautiful escape.
Each heady mewl and clawful of his skin, encouraging his ministrations. Biting down her breasts and taut stomach, marking her bruises with hickies in place. Spots that should have already been filled with sincerity. Encroaching onto what he held himself back from for so long. Rasping as he loomed above her dark patch, "Nobody will ever lay a finger on you."
Gripping her waist as he delved into her folds, laughter mixed with the offset of pleasure. “And what of magic? Titania?”
He merely peered up to wink, whispering into her thighs. “Nothing, nothing. Forget about that bitch.”
Plush peaks wrapping enveloping him; now his own protection. He lapped at her arousal but stilled. Minerva’s fingers close to ridding his pants, coyly pressing against the pearl he had longed to rid of. The slightest of tremors working their way as Sting ripped through the turmoils he raved over nightly. A great rift the games created closing within a matter of seconds as every light touch made him regret keeping to his fragile tempts.
“Minerva-” Cut off by tenderness. Softly petting the part he couldn’t stand, circling around and nipping. Gasping from pure devotion she sought to give.
And down went his boxers and Sting mewled as he lay on his side. Unable to see the passionate glint in the hazel eyes he knew so well. “It’s a two-way street,” Minerva blowing softly as her finger mused against his folds; unhesitant to push in.
Returning to the honeyed crests of the space between her thighs. Flattening his tongue against the dark muscle; Minerva biting down on the bundle of nerves. Just how he liked it. Her digits only distracting him as they pumped inside. Crying out as Sting delved into her pulsing lips. It wouldn't be plausible for his lady to give him the release, spearing his tongue into her heat.
Her plush thighs tightening around his head -a good sign. Giving her darkened folds open-mouthed kisses; heat that pooled in his stomach, falling between Minerva’s fingers. Into her mouth. Sting already on the onset of a climax, clutching her bottom. Sidling closer to the virtues of his woman, careening Minerva into the highest glory. Just as she did for himself.
Every muscle in his legs spasming as she continued to piston her fingers. A low grumble as prodded her swollen button with his tongue. Not ready to lose, not this time.
“Miner-” Not a peep as he growled the rest of her name. Playfully pulling her waist, tracing her stomach with petty kisses. “The bed, now.”
Her eyes piercing as she rolled over, sprawling onto the floor. “You’re the one who choose the floor.”
Unrelenting as his kisses traced the hardened muscles of her back. Her curtain of hair pulled over her shoulders as he continued to the nape of her neck. A quiet giggle as he blew; the only ticklish spot she had. “I’ll pull you up there if I have to.”
Her small musing erupting into a chuckle. “Tomorrow is a new day, Sting. To which you need to be well-rested.”
Sting stalled as he hovered. What exactly was she implying? They had shared a bed before, too many times to count. “We don’t have to continue…”
“Remember Jiemma?” Not even addressed as father. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“But, Minnie,” his eyes watering. Fumbling as she wiggled away from him. “Don’t go,” he griped and commanded.
Her chuckle only worsening. “My dress, baby.” The nickname littered with regret yet love.
Stiff as his fingers listened. Even righting the small wrinkles in the embroidered silk. “Tomorrow?”
She merely nodded. One last kiss placed against his lips before she stood. Still beautiful. Still hardened and cold. And Sting still lingering as he gripped her hand. Still as he watched her go. Only for him to be left on the golden bedspread. Holding tight as her scent lingered, her lips, her entire being.
One idea spurring the rest of the night. An entirety of an ordeal as he plotted against their guild master. But as his plan worked, it didn’t keep the treasure. Their lady hit the ground running after their humiliating defeat. So much for the promises of a new day.
~~~~~
Magnolia was rutted within the depths of hell, every building for miles to see crumbled within ruin. Fires of the highest degree surrounding the allied guilds as they fought against the latest enemy: Tartaros. Cringing every moment another drop of iron was spent, spilling from the innocent. A fucking mess.
Exhaustion his second end only after the faintest essence of nostalgia passed him. Sting careful not to tell a single soul of what he was really after. His right hand just as belligerent as he came to be as the passed through demon after demon. Rogue the only person who has the faintest sense of what he was after.
He screamed as heat seared past his side. Stumbling through the rubble as he grew closer to the darkened heavenly scent of orchids.
"We have to go back," Rogue hissed. The slayer commandeering as ever. "Our allies-"
Sting growled, pressing his hands against his abdomen. His vigor draining as he wheezed, "Our friend has more importance, don't you think?"
Another whimper as Rogue's arms hoisted him up. Any sense or reason failing to reach Sting as he rambled on about their newfound duties to the guild alliance but he was Sabertooth's guild master, not Rogue!
"Enough," inhaling for a timeless minute, "she's here. Somewhere. I can handle this, go back."
Sting's dismissal untaken as his right hand sniffed the blotted air. Neither of their heightened senses peaking in the state of disarray. Though they were managing under the circumstances.
He just wanted to call her name but feared Minerva would run. The usual dance they had played since she first took off.
"Listen," Rogue echoed. The grip he held around his own shoulders tightening.
All he could identify was the roaring of fire. Raucous explosions caused by magic or the curse of that one blonde demon. None of those wretched spawn having the chance to fall to the good's knees. Each stringent infiltrating what he was truly reaching for -breathing. Sting closed his eyes, unsure of what to focus on. Training his ears to the most minute of noises; pebbles of wreckage tumbling from a nearby building.
And in that fold, was the cress of labored breaths. All welling from an injured bodice, inching his nose as he realized it was exactly what he'd scrounged for.
Ripping away from Rogue's side, he tumbled through cement and broken walls to the wreckage of battle. The loser laying in a bed of steely metal and dust.
"Minnie," Sting croaked. Tears welling from his eyes as he looked upon her battered form.
He had changed but so had she.
Twisted horns sprouting from her head, in conjunction with the raven patch that sat over her eye. Claws scathed and pointed from the tips of her fingers. Each limb wrapped in an unfathomable purple fabric, a monster. What had they done to her?
Her nickname going unacknowledged as he kneeled next to her. Anger burning through the tears that threatened to spill. Barely glossing over the bruises and burns that marred her olive skin. Just where to begin with first aid was mind boggling. The smallest idea of killing whoever did this to Minerva sprouting.
Her breathing became more narrowed, Sting only becoming more frenzied. Pressing his forehead against her own, "Wake up." Letting his fingers entangle within her knotted tresses as he begged. "Pleasepleaseplease… We all make bad choices. We've both been through it," hoarse as he continued, "and- and we've all been forgiven. Just give yourself the chance."
The long moment growing as he bore down. His tears streaking down her sharp cheekbones in lines of gray.
Just give yourself the chance.
Hope dwindling as Minerva's chest heaved less and less. The eerie presence of Rogue unsettling as Sting lay there with her.
"She needs treatment," obvious advice coming from his partner.
He shook his head, knowing she would be condemned if they brought her to Fairy Tail's makeshift medical tent. Struggling to think as her lifeless body lay under him. Only one thought pervading: his own curse of light. Growing ever more tiresome as his hands lined up over her abdomen, a long winded force of magic scorching through his fingers.
"Insanity," Rogue belted, "Your magic can't heal." And he was right. Sting wasn't going to let that small rule stop him, it was his last resort.
A pure rune widening as he muttered the Latin verse. One that promised gave an unveiled promise of protection of evil, though only those vain enough could pertain the blessing. Sting hoped his sheer will could surpass the demonic blood that pumped through Minerva. The crest of the seal beginning to burn into her abdomen, curling around the dark scrawl of Tartaros's mark.
As the amble pressed forth, every expanse of deterred space filled with the blinding rays of the spell. Just the beginning as the real purge welled, dark spirals springing from every inch of her pale skin. Gaining the reaction Sting wished for moments earlier.
Racked with turmoil, Minerva’s scream pierced his own eardrums; leaving them ringing as he held her down. He couldn’t drop the incantation now, nearing the end of the verse. Keeping his eyes closed, hoping to the gods that she would still.
Sting knew that the purification would hurt like hell. Minerva just had to hold on for a little bit longer. Hoping that she could feel his love as he pressed on. Come back -the ethernano he pulled on bringing her to life with every second.
She heaved forward, Minerva’s nails dragging into his skin. Sting reeling from the contact, burning from her painful touch. The last of the demonic presence draining from her hazel orbs. The exhaustion he felt before opening ten fold as he held onto her, panting in the stale air. All three of them struggling to breathe as he finished the spell.
Damned if he couldn’t heal but he was the salvant. The sanctuary he always wished to be as his forehead stepped low, brushing against Minerva’s sillowed bangs.
Strangled as she cried, “Sting…”
He hushed her, clasping his hand behind her head. Every suppressed emotion revealed as his own cries were unleashed. “I’m here, Minnie,” falling at the name, “I always have been.”
And he always will be.
“You ready to go home?” The barest smile riding on his lips.
An unheeded answer as Minerva’s tears fell onward. Unknowing of the final battles that raged as Rogue followed him down the path of Magnolia. Checking out at his own notice.
Never did they unravel as they curled into each other’s arms. The new dawn stretching whence upon the two, a cusp of the light they were to develop once more. One kiss was lain on her brow, standing amidst the damage of a pervading evil. In time it would end as all things do. The only fruition making Sabertooth stronger.
Hi I wrote a fic that took all fucking month please read it. Here’s the ao3 link.
Rating: Explicit
Warning: it’s trans sting so theres some mentions of dysphoria and other trans-related issues
Rogue helps Sting realize he’s not broken, and overcome his issues with intimacy.
Sting’s never been good with intimacy. He wishes he was; he wants to be good with it. Sometimes he dreams about it: cuddling on the couch, holding hands while walking down the street, touching himself and his partner without fear. He loves the idea of intimacy. But he hates himself too much to go through with it.
Him and Rogue have been officially dating for six months. Honestly, not a whole lot has changed. They’ve lived together since they were children, slept in the same bed, and always told each other everything. Rogue was the first person Sting came out to, even if it was more out of necessity, since Rogue had seen him naked. They would have let it go if Sting wasn’t ready to say anything, but still. Sting owed them some kind of explanation. They trust each other with everything.
But for some reason, Sting can’t trust them with this.
They’re sitting on the couch, movie playing forgotten on their lacrima TV, and they’re kissing. This, Sting is fine with. He loves kissing. He loves Rogue’s hand in his hair, loves the way Rogue laughs when Sting’s stubble tickles their chin, loves the way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy down to his toes.
It’s when Rogue moans and accidentally rubs against his thigh that Sting tenses up.
Rogue must notice. They pull back, looking at Sting with a mix of confusion and concern, “Sting…? Everything ok?”
Sting nods quickly, the words coming out too fast to be convincing, “Yup! Yea! Totally fine!”
Rogue gives him one of their expasterated don’t lie to me looks. Sting suddenly becomes fascinated with a stain on the couch. Maybe Rogue spilled some wine at some point- it’s red and kinda circular but not enough to look purposeful-
“Sting.” A soft hand cups his cheek, Rogue’s voice equally soft and soothing. “Talk to me, love.”
Sting can’t help but press into the touch. Everything about Rogue is calming; they’ve always shined like a lighthouse in the stormy sea of life. Sting knows he can tell them anything without judgement or ridicule.
But still, Sting stammers, struggling to sort his fears into words, “I...I don’t… I know you...want me but I, uh…”
Rogue tries to keep their face neutral, purely a listener, but Sting sees the flash of hurt in their eyes. “You don’t want me?”
“No! No that’s not it,” Sting says quickly. He grabs Rogue’s hands, holding them tight. “I do want you, Rogue. I want you more than anything. I love… I love cuddling with you and kissing you and holding your hand and just being with you but…” He blushes, nodding down to the part of Rogue that was just grinding against his leg. “I don’t know if I can...do that…”
Sting isn’t really sure if Rogue understood- he hopes they did. He doesn’t really want to go further into it right now in fear of spiraling into a hateful hole of dysphoria. Luckily Rogue’s face turns bright red and they look down at themselves sheepily.
“Ah…” they clear their throat, “W-Well I… I didn’t mean to… pressure you into anything. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, or aren’t ready for. But I...must admit I’m a little confused.”
Sting tilts his head, “Confused?”
Rogue nods. They’re blushing furiously now- it’s fucking adorable. “I just… thought maybe this might be something you want. You’ve been...doing stuff in your sleep.”
Sting’s eyes widen, face red as a tomato. He has no doubt he looks like a fish with his mouth opening and closing, struggling to form words.
Rogue’s not wrong. Sting’s been incredibly sexually frustrated lately, and it doesn’t help that Rogue likes to go shirtless around the house in the summer with that damn ponytail. Unable to do anything about it while awake, all that frustration has manifested itself in his dreams. Almost every night he has a dream about Rogue touching him, or vice versa. He’ll have a dream where Rogue fucks him into the mattress, whispering all kinds of lewd things in his ear, then wake up wet and uncomfortable and hating himself.
It’s easier in dreams. He doesn’t have the wrong body in his dreams.
Sting’s decided he really doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore. He’s about to get up and hide out somewhere when Rogue grabs his wrist. “Sting, wait!”
Sting has half a mind to pull away from Rogue and keep walking, but he’s never been able to do that in his life and he’s not going to start now. Especially not when Rogue sounds so frantic.
“If this is about your body, you know I don’t care about that,” Rogue says, “I don’t care what parts you have or don’t have. All I care about is you-”
“I care!” Sting whirls around to face Rogue, face red and splotchy with the effort of holding back tears. “I care, Rogue! I know we’ve seen each other naked and you think it’s not a big deal but it is! This-” he gestures to himself, “isn’t me! I can’t do anything a regular guy can do! I don’t…”
Rogue suddenly pulls Sting into a tight, bone-crushing hug. Sting sinks into it immediately, Rogue’s arms a barrier of comfort and warmth against his insecurities. He knows Rogue’s love is unconditional; all they’ve ever wanted was to make Sting feel loved. But this… there’s so many things that can go wrong with this. Sex and small, casual moments of intimacy are two totally different ball games. Sting can’t lie to himself, he does want it, but he isn’t sure if he can handle it when he’s broken like this.
“I love you, Sting,” Rogue murmurs softly in his ear. “I won’t pressure you into anything. Just know if this is something you want… I’ll give you anything. We can go as fast or as slow as you need, my love. You have always been a man. Having sex won’t change that.”
Their hands rub his back in soothing circles. Sting lets out a shaky breath; Rogue always knows exactly what he’s afraid of, if they hadn’t known each other for so long Sting would think they’re a mind reader.
“Are you sure…?” Sting whispers, because he has to be sure. It’s not only their first time, it’s the first time Sting would let Rogue touch him in a sexual way, the first time anyone-himself included- has touched him. He has to be sure it won’t change the image of the man he sees in Rogue’s eyes- the man he strives to be.
“Yes.” Though there’s still tears in the corner of their eyes, Rogue’s gaze is steady. It calms Sting in a way he almost can’t understand. It wasn’t a dismissive “of course” or “I’m sure.” It was a strong, unarguable yes.
Yes. I will always love you. I will always accept you.
Yes, I can only love you more.
Sting isn’t actually sure who moved first. He thinks it was him. (He’d like to believe it was him, when this is all over and they’re cuddled in bed. He would like to think he was brave enough to move after that.) They’re kissing again, arms wrapped around each other, hands gripping hips and tangling in hair, as if afraid the other might disappear and their touch was the only thing holding them there. Despite the desperation in their hands, the kiss is soft, questioning, treading waters yet unexplored.
Rogue moans and grinds against Sting, and this time he lets them. In fact, Sting grinds right back, moaning in surprise at the jolt of heat that spears through his belly.
Rogue pulls back for one agonizing second, and Sting whines, trying to chase after their lips. Rogue laughs and gently puts a hand on his face to hold him back.
“Shhh, love. Bed.”
“Oh...Oh right!” Sting grins sheepishly and takes Rogue back into their bedroom, Rogue refusing to let go of his hand the whole time.
Once the door closes behind them, it’s as if the whole atmosphere changes. Sting’s palms start sweating, hands shaking, heart beating a mile a minute. It’s the same as the day he officially took over as guild master- that feeling of the world sitting on his shoulders. What if he messes this up? What if he isn’t any good? What if Rogue hates it or they see him with his clothes off and change their mind-
“Sunshine?” Rogue’s calm voice penetrates through his anxious thoughts. “You’re thinking too much again.”
Sting just laughs nervously, looking down at his bare feet.
A gentle hand tips his chin back up, and Sting sees the loving, patient smile on Rogue’s face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We’re going at your pace. You’re in charge, my love.”
“I hate being in charge,” Sting mumbles.
“But being in charge here doesn’t mean paperwork or meetings,” Rogue chuckles and pulls Sting into another kiss. Sting laughs into the kiss, less nervous and more genuine.
“Seriously,” Rogue continues, “anything you want. If you want me to just touch you, that’s fine. We can touch each other at the same time. If you don’t want to be touched at all… well, I’ll feel a little bad about it, but that’s fine too.”
Sting hides his laugh in Rogue’s shoulder, arms wrapping around their waist, “You’re too giving…”
“No,” Rogue says, kissing Sting’s temple, “You just deserve the world.”
Sting isn’t sure if he believes that, but he knows Rogue does wholeheartedly, and they’ve always been the smart one.
They stand in the middle of the room for a moment, arms wrapped around each other, Rogue offering comfort as Sting thinks. They don’t push or shove or try to rush him, and Sting appreciates that immensely. Honestly, he has no idea what he wants, or where this night is going to lead, but there is something he’s always wanted to try…
“Sit on the bed…?” Sting asks.
Rogue nods, making sure to keep a hand interlocked with Sting’s as they sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him with so much love and patience Sting has trouble breathing for a minute.
Sting takes a deep breath and slowly gets down on his knees in front of Rogue. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s doing, but he’s read a little bit about it, and of course there’s what he’s heard from the older members of the guild. Almost everyone does it at some point; it can’t be that hard, right?
Rogue’s breath hitches when Sting pulls down their sweatpants and boxers, taking their cock in his hand. He tries to mask the uncertainty in his movements as he strokes the shaft. He doesn’t do a great job, apparently.
“Ahh, Sting, like this…” Rogue covers Sting’s hand with their own, showing him what to do until their cock hardens in his hand. “Y-Yea, like that,” they moan, hand falling away.
Sting plays with the head of their cock, fingers moving like Rogue showed him. He watches their face- their skin is flushed a pretty pink, red eyes half-lidded and blown with lust, turning the color even darker, like black raspberries. They’re watching Sting with a heated gaze that sets his skin on fire.
“Rogue, I wanna…” Sting trails off. He isn’t exactly sure how to tell a person hey, I really wanna suck your dick without sounding weird. Not to mention the fact he doesn’t know how to suck dick. Maybe he’s getting too ahead of himself. He should just keep doing this, Rogue seems to enjoy it anyways. Yea, this is fine-
“Sting,” Rogue groans, “You’re doing it again.”
Sting blushes, realizes his hand stopped moving, and speeds up again. “S-Sorry…”
Rogue grabs his wrist. “Sting, if you don’t want to do this-”
“I do,” Sting quickly cuts them off. “I do want to do this! I just...dammit. Fuck-” Annoyed at his inability to speak, Sting takes action instead. He drops his hand and licks a hot, messy stripe up Rogue’s cock.
“O-Oh shit-!” Rogue gasps. They have to grip the side of the bed to keep from falling off of it. “S-Sting wait…!”
Sting doesn’t listen, worried that if he stops now he’ll lose all courage. Going off what little knowledge he has, he sucks on the head of their cock, feeling it twitch in his mouth.
A hand buries in Sting’s hair, and they both moan. The air is hot and thick, the smell of sex and sweat filling the room. Sting’s surprised with how much he likes this- having Rogue’s cock in his mouth, feeling it twitch on his tongue, hearing their moans above him. The pleasured response encourages him. He sucks down more of their cock- only to choke and have to pull back with a cough.
“S-Sting…!” Rogue’s voice fills with concern, their hands coming up to cup his face, “Are you ok?”
Sting nods quickly, though in actuality his throat is burning and his jaw hurts. How the hell is this so difficult? Trying to fit it all in his mouth and keeping his damn teeth out of the way- He hears people talk about it all the time at the guild; did they have such a rough first time too? Or is he just doing this completely wrong?
Rogue’s fingers gently weave through his hair, stroke down his cheek and rub over the soreness in his jaw. “Let’s slow down a bit, ok…? Take it one step at a time.”
“But…” Sting bites his lip, and Rogue pulls him up so they can kiss it.
“Shhh, no buts...unless it’s your butt.”
Sting laughs, “Yea yea, ok.” He wraps his hands back around Rogue’s cock exactly the way they showed him earlier. Their skin burns against his hand, their moans echoing through the room, and when they finally cum their voice is a melodious symphony of ecstasy.
“O-oh...oh Sting…” They gasp and shiver in Sting’s hold. He watches, enraptured with the way Rogue’s face is flushed pink, their mouth open in a soft o, their breathing coming in short pants before slowly evening out as their orgasm subsides.
Beautiful…
Rogue looks down at Sting and there’s so much love in that look it takes Sting’s breath away. A small, fond smile spreads across their face, tipped with post-orgasmic bliss. “I love you…”
Sting blushes, about to answer when Rogue’s smile turns nervous, “Um, Sting… can I…” They chew on their lip- Sting has trouble concentrating on anything else. “Can I...feel free to say no. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I just… can I touch you too…?”
There’s a long moment where Sting doesn’t answer. He tries to picture Rogue touching him like that- their hand around his cock, or maybe even their mouth if they wanted. The thought makes him shiver: he wants that.
But when he looks down at himself, he’s reminded he can’t have it. He doesn’t have a dick- or, at least, not one big enough Rogue can put their hand around it. He’s been on hormones for two and a half years now. There’s been a lot of changes and a lot of growth that have made him so happy, growing into the man he’s always dreamed of being has made him the most confident he’s ever been in his life, but it’s still not right. And it will never be exactly right without the surgery.
But he can’t afford both bottom surgery and top surgery. Hoping for both- at least anytime soon- is unrealistic. Not to mention the complications that go along with it. He may never have the chance for bottom surgery. Is he really going to live a life of goddamn celibacy just because he got stuck with the wrong parts at birth?
He hates himself, and it’ll be a long, hard road to lessen that hate, but maybe… If Rogue can accept him like this, then he can learn to accept himself to.
“I...yes…” Sting’s voice is barely above a whisper. He looks at Rogue, anxious and unsure, but still with love. Always with love.
Rogue kisses the scar over Sting’s eyebrow, then his lips, so Sting can taste their smile.
“Thank you, sunshine,” Rogue whispers, reverent, as if thanking a god who just bared them a gift.
It makes Sting blush. He keeps kissing Rogue even as they lay him down on his back. Their hands wander over his body, mapping uncharted territory with a wonder and softness that makes Sting shiver. They stay clear from the binder still covering his chest, and Sting can’t appreciate them enough for it.
Their hands are replaced with their mouth, kissing over Sting’s jaw, his shoulders and down his arms. They kiss each of his fingers, and it takes Sting a moment to realize they’re whispering words into his hands.
“I love you- for staying with me.”
“For saving me.”
“For protecting me.”
“For being the only person who could make me laugh.”
“For loving me.”
Sting only stares, speechless, as Rogue continues kissing down his body. He hadn’t been expecting this...intensity at all. He had thought Rogue would be shy and careful in touching him, afraid he might snap. But no, they’re… they’re practically worshiping his body.
Fuck.
There are tears on Sting’s face, and his chest is so tight and full of love he feels like he might explode. He has no idea what he’s done to deserve any of this.
“R-Rogue…”
They kiss down his stomach, pressing a kiss to each of his hips, then pause at his boxers. They look up at Sting, red eyes questioning, asking is this still ok?
Several breaths later, Sting nods.
Rogue tugs his boxers off, throws them to the floor, then turns to at Sting. Their breath catches in their throat; Sting is shaking under them, a blush on his tear-stained cheeks, his hair a mess of blond curls, totally naked except for the binder covering his chest.
“Beautiful…” Rogue breathes.
“W-What?”
“You,” Rogue repeats, “are beautiful.” They trace the curves of his body with their palms as if committing every nook and cranny, every perfection and imperfection, to memory.
“Don’t say stuff like that,” Sting whispers, his blush growing more pronounced.
“Why not?” Rogue looks in his eyes with a kind smile. “It’s the truth. Aren’t you the one always saying the truth deserves to be said?”
“Don’t throw my own words back at me!”
Rogue laughs, “Sorry, sorry.” Their hands trail up Sting’s thighs, making him shiver, when they pause and Sting sees the first sign of uncertainty they’ve shown since this started in the furrow of their brow. “Um…”
“What?” Sting asks.
“It’s...um…” Rogue blushes, and if Sting wasn’t so nervous he would call them cute. They look down and away, tugging their lip between their teeth. “I’m...not sure what I should do.”
Oh. Right. Rogue’s been so sure of themselves through this Sting forgot this is their first time too. That...makes this a little awkward.
“Oh fuck, this is embarrassing,” Sting groans and grabs a pillow to put over his head.
He hears Rogue laugh nervously, “I did kinda kill the mood a bit, didn’t I? Sorry, should I…?”
Sting tugs the pillow down enough so he can see Rogue over it. They’re looking at him again; Sting can still see the wonder in his eyes. It almost makes him pull the pillow back up. “No, it’s...fine. Maybe just...um...just touch me? And I can uh, tell you what feels good? Or what doesn’t?”
Rogue nods. A second later Sting feels their hands on his thighs start moving again, then a soft touch against his labia, making him gasp.
It feels...good? Sting isn’t sure. But Rogue’s running two fingers up and down his slit, making him shiver. They keep one hand anchored on his thigh, kneading gently, and then a finger dips in and touches his cock and- oh yes.
“Fuck…” Rogue strokes a finger up and down Sting’s small cock. They can’t take their eyes off his face, mesmerized as his mouth opens on a moan, his eyes flutter shut, and his blush spreads all the way to that stupid pillow he’s holding over his chest. “It really feels that good…?”
“Yes,” Sting breathes. Neither one of them really know what they’re doing, but it still feels like someone’s lit tiny fireworks under Sting’s skin. He can’t seem to hold still, squirming on the bed and wrapping his legs around Rogue’s waist.
And then Rogue adds another finger, stroking and squeezing his cock, and Sting sees stars.
“Rogue Rogue Rogue-” Sting gasps and moans, voice high and breathy, climbing higher and higher until suddenly the world explodes around him in a fraction of light.
Rogue pulls their hand away as Sting comes back down. He shudders under them, breathing hard, thighs sticky, feeling like a bomb of pleasure just exploded inside him.
“Fuck…”
Rogue’s voice filters through the fog in his mind, “-ing. Sting, you ok?”
Sting nods weakly, opening watery eyes to look at Rogue. Maybe it’s the trick of the light, or he’s just seeing things, but it looks like Rogue’s glowing-
Wait, no.
He’s glowing.
He raises a shaking hand to see a faint white glow around his fingers, trailing down his arm. It’s faint enough not to blind anyone, but bright enough to reflect the light across Rogue’s features, as if they’re sharing his light.
“You’re glowing, love,” Rogue whispers softly. Their hand is gently stroking Sting’s jaw, the touch filled with wonder.
“Haha…” Sting slowly lowers his hand back down, blushing. “This...happens when I get really happy sometimes…”
Rogue’s smile is bright enough to rival Sting’s magic. “So you are happy, then?”
“Yea...Yea I am.” Sting smiles softly, because it’s true. One of the reasons he was so hesitant to do this was because he was scared he’d go into a dysphoria-driven panic attack as soon as it’s over, but now that it’s done he doesn’t feel weird. He feels closer to Rogue then ever. He feels happy.
Rogue kisses him softly. “I love you, sunshine.” They pause, then suddenly they’re laughing, “Huh, guess now you’re a literal ball of sunshine!”
“Oh shut up!” Sting laughs and wacks Rogue with the pillow he had been holding to his chest the whole time.
Rogue only catches it, tossing it aside. “Well, was that as good as your dreams?”
“Better than my dreams.”
Rogue laughs, and Sting swoops in to kiss them again.
“Alright, alright. Sting-” Rogue’s still giggling as they gently push Sting away. “Come on, we should go get cleaned up.”
Sting nods, and Rogue pulls him to his feet. They both pause on the way to the bathroom. Sting traces his fingers around the edge of the binder, but eventually shakes his head and takes it off. He’s with Rogue, who has shown their love for him as strongly as they can over and over. Sting may hate his body, but Rogue loves him. He has nothing to hide here.
Rogue says nothing, just smiles and squeezes Sting’s hand. They climb into the too-small bath together, two bodies folded into each other like missing puzzle pieces. They wash each other’s hair, laughing when Sting starts purring, then frantically grabbing a washcloth when soap gets in the others eye, small intimate moments that are worth a lifetime.
It’s messy and clumsy and not quite right, but it’s still them. It’s still Rogue, who cries over romance novels and gets overprotective over the stupidest things. And it’s still Sting, who gives his all for his guild and expects nothing in return, who constantly forgets to wear his contacts and who believes in the five second rule when food falls on the floor. It’s still two people who have gone through hardships unimaginable, and come out hand-in-hand stronger than ever.
It’s time to celebrate a special person, but Fairy Tail wants to do more than a party. It’s a surprise built to last. (For @mdelpin.)
Many nonbinary identities and pronouns!
~
Freed sighed. Waving their hands and shouting was getting nowhere. Shaking their head, they stepped up onto the nearest table and bellowed, "Listen up for Master's sake!"
Finally, some semblance of quiet fell. (Natsu quietly punched Gray in the background.)
"Thank you," Freed said. "We only have a couple months to get this all done. As you were saying, Mira?"
As Mira's soft voice caused even greater silence to fall, Freed felt a tug on their belt loops and looked down. Laxus stood beside the table, staring up and grinning. Flushing, they smiled back.
"You look good yelling at everyone," Laxus whispered.
Snorting, Freed allowed themself to be drawn down off the table and into an embrace.
"This is a good plan," Laxus said as Freed rubbed his back. "I like it. It'll surprise him so hard he might just have a heart attack."
@mdelpin is working on starting an lgbt+ ft fanfic group to try and revitalize the fandom as well as create positivity! if any of you are interested, shoot me or her a message!
