#redefining smut challenge

[leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld]

CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Three – Noona}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

Rated (M) for mature

Words: 4k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF MENTAL TRAUMA, (MILD) PANIC ATTACK AND PROFANITY. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION

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MATERIALIST

Taehyung's POV 

The shock I felt was overwhelming, to say the least.

Why was she going against everything we've been taught? As hybrids, our purpose has always been crystal clear - to serve humans obediently and to seek their approval and attention.

Yet here she stood, challenging the very foundation of our existence. She advocated for our freedom, for the recognition of our worth as equals in a society that had always viewed us as mere possessions.

I couldn't help but question her motives. Was she naive, idealistic, or perhaps just brave beyond measure? And where did that leave the rest of us who had long accepted our subjugated status without resistance?

Lost in contemplation, I was taken aback when she appeared before me, concern etched across her features.

"Taehyung, are you alright? You seemed lost in thought," she inquired, her eyes reflecting a genuine worry that tugged at my emotions.

In that moment, I longed to seek solace in her embrace, to share the turmoil brewing within me. For I was far from okay, and the realization of our oppressed existence weighed heavily on my heart.

Being owned and exploited had been our norm – a perpetual cycle of submission that had stifled any flicker of rebellion within us. The dream of freedom, of being recognized and respected, had seemed like a distant, unattainable fantasy.

But her words, her actions... Perhaps they held the promise of a new dawn, a ray of hope amidst the darkness of our existence. Maybe, just maybe, today marked the beginning of a revolution long overdue.

As uncertainty mingled with hope within me, I couldn't help but wonder, 

Was this really a path we desired to tread, one filled with unknown challenges and risks? Or was it a leap into a future where our voices could finally be heard, our identities no longer defined by the chains of servitude?

The answers eluded me, shrouded in the complexity of our reality. And as I stood there, grappling with conflicting emotions, one thing became clear – the winds of change were blowing, and we stood at the precipice of a choice that could redefine our very existence.

Heaven's POV 

After carefully observing them, I realized that their appearance was not necessarily extravagant, but it was the emotions they displayed that caught my attention.

I could sense that they held great potential within them, waiting to be unlocked and showcased to the world.

I felt a strong determination to help them harness the talents and capabilities that lay dormant within them. They deserved a chance to shine and I was determined to make that happen.

In order to make them feel more comfortable and cared for, I called one of my guards to bring them some fresh clothes. It didn't sit right with me to see them in their current state, and I wanted to provide them with a sense of dignity and respect.

Shortly after my request, there was a knock on the door. I welcomed my guards into the room as they entered with multiple bags of clean, brand new clothes.

Their promptness and attention to detail reflected the level of care and professionalism that I expected from my staff.

"Ms. Valentino, here are the clothes you requested. They are clean and brand new, just as you specified," one of the guards informed me. I expressed my gratitude towards them and instructed them to also prepare seven double beds for our guests.

I began to envision the transformation that awaited them once they were given the necessary resources and support.

With determination and a compassionate heart, I was ready to guide them towards their full potential and help them realize the greatness that I saw within each of them.

I could feel several pairs of eyes on me as I stood there, commanding attention from them but I shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“Okay, uhm, how about you all take a shower, dress up, and wait for your beds,” I said with a warm smile, trying to make them feel comfortable in this new setting.

They didn't budge, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Well, this was just the beginning for them. They were about to get pampered in ways they never imagined. 

I caught Jimin's eye, and when he quickly averted his gaze, I raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Jimin?” I called out softly, making him tense up before slowly meeting my eyes again.

I gave them a piece of advice, emphasizing the importance of holding their heads high and never showing submission to anyone. I wanted them to be confident, to never let anyone look down on them. 

Taehyung was the first to stand up, a glimmer of determination in his eyes as he approached me, trying to break free from his ingrained habits.

It was progress, even if it was just a small step forward.

“Thank you mas-- H-Heaven, I promise that on behalf of me and my pack, we will try not to show submission and break through our conditioning,” Taehyung's voice was firm, filled with determination to change. 

I couldn't help but smile at his dedication. It was going to be a journey for them to embrace their true nature, and I was ready to guide them every step of the way.

As their protector and their link to the Valentino family, I made it clear that they were safe under my watch. No harm would come to them, not now, not ever.

“I'm glad, but let's not forget the practical stuff. Could you guys shower and dress up, please?” I added, feeling a bit awkward at the prolonged exposure to naked bodies. 

The scene was chaotic as they frantically tried to locate the bathroom.

Their confusion was evident as they scurried in different directions. I couldn't help but chuckle at their adorable bewilderment, finding amusement in their predicament.

Not wanting them to endure any more embarrassment, I took it upon myself to guide them to the bathroom, offering a sense of relief amidst the chaos.

As I directed them, I made sure to inform them about the specific toiletries I had prepared for their use.

Understanding the sensitivity of their skin to human products, I had purchased hybrid-friendly soap and body lotion, keeping their well-being in mind. New toothbrushes were also made available in the cupboards for their convenience.

To further put them at ease, I encouraged them to choose clothing from the bags I had set out, assuring them that they could change after they had showered.

However, it came as a surprise to me when I discovered that they had never used a shower before. My heart went out to them as I realized the foreignness of such a mundane activity for them.

It saddened me to think that they were unfamiliar with the concept of taking a shower, highlighting the stark differences between our species.

The fact that something as basic as personal hygiene could be a new and potentially overwhelming experience for them tugged at my heartstrings. It served as a poignant reminder of the privileges I often took for granted.

After demonstrating how to operate the shower, I left them on their own, granting them the privacy they deserved. 

Retreating to the living room of the suite, as I waited for the beds.

As I sat in the living room, my thoughts lingered on the cultural and physical barriers that separated us, prompting a sense of empathy and compassion for their vulnerable state.

~An Hour Later~

The boys were now clean and dressed, they looked absolutely breathtaking.

I mean, if they were good-looking before, now they were on a whole other level of beauty, they could pass for models on the front page of vogue magazines.

They were all rocking simple, casual outfits, but they somehow managed to make them look so stylish and chic. I couldn't help but admire how effortlessly cool they all looked.

"Okay, now that you guys are all clean and dressed, who's hungry?" I asked them, feeling excited about our little mealtime.

Hoseok timidly raised his hand without meeting my eyes. It was adorable how he was trying to be subtle about it.

"Yes, Hobi, what can I get for you?" I inquired, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

His reaction was priceless. His eyes widened, cheeks turning a cute shade of red as he stammered out his request.

"C-can I get w-what you're having, mas– Heaven?" 

Gosh, he was just too precious.

"Aww, Hobi, sweetheart, you don't have to be so polite. Order whatever you want, and I'll make sure you get it. And if you want to have the same as me, that's totally fine too. Same goes for all of you, alright?" I reassured them with a warm smile.

Seeing them all nodding in agreement made my heart melt. They were just too adorable for words.

I wasted no time in calling Min-Soo for some food delivery, and just like that, he was at our doorstep in no time. Seriously, did this guy have superhuman speed or what?

"Hello, Min-Soo. My hybrids and I are hungry. Where's the restaurant?" I asked him, my voice coming out emotionless but eager, ready to fill our bellies.

"I'm sorry miss Valentino but the kitchen is closed and will only be open at seven in the morning" He said.

The restaurant is closed, which is beyond frustrating. I mean, who closes a restaurant at such a crazy time? Especially when they host late night events, which end at two in the morning.

Annoyed at the inconvenience, I dismissed Min-Soo with a sharp word and closed the door firmly behind him. Turning back to my hybrids, I noticed they were all staring at me in bewilderment.

What? Did I say something?

“Are you guys okay?” I asked, my tone unintentionally brusque. 

But they all silently stared at me.

Weird.

Until it clicked.

"Oh, sorry, I hate insolence, it gets on my nerves," I remarked, deflecting the intensity of the situation with a casual shrug. 

"Hello? Yes could you please bring in some food…" I talked to my guards as I took time to ask the boys what they want before hanging up.

In the faint light of the room, I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the boys' imposing muscular bodies and the visible outline of their ribs, a telltale sign of malnourishment.

It tugged at my heart, a reminder of the struggles they must have faced.

As I stepped further into the room, their gazes bore into me, making me feel incredibly small despite my own confidence.

It wasn't just their sheer size or height that intimidated me, it was the way they stood in a rigid, almost defensive formation, like a wall closing in around me.

The hybrids seemed to exude a certain unpredictability that kept me slightly on edge.

Feeling the tension in the room, I tried to break the silence,

"As we wait for our food, why don't we do something?"

 Jin, the lion hybrid, approached me with measured steps, his presence commanding attention. 

There was an unspoken intensity in his voice that gave me pause, a hint of something hidden beneath the surface.

"What should we do?" His voice was laced with an unidentifiable undertone that sent a shiver down my spine.

I found myself faltering, unsure of how to interpret the weight behind his words.

Locking eyes with Jin, I noticed the darkness that seemed to swirl within them, a silent mystery that left me unsettled.

I realized then that he had been unusually quiet since our encounter began, a fact that added to his enigmatic aura.

Just as the tension peaked, a disruptive cough cut through the thick atmosphere, jolting us back to reality.

In that fleeting moment, the veil of darkness that shrouded Jin's eyes lifted, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath the facade of strength.

What was that? It seemed like he was trying to figure something out, I could feel it.

The raw and undeniable fear.

Was he testing me, by trying to intimidate me?

Confusion and curiosity warred within me as I tried to make sense of the sudden shift in dynamics.

"C-can you please scratch my e-ears?" Jin's bashful request was just the tip of the iceberg in the dynamics among the hybrids.

The way he timidly approached me with that innocent look in his eyes, contrasting with the powerful aura he previously exuded, was quite a sight to behold.

As I gently ran my fingers through his hair and scratched his ears, the pure joy that washed over his face was undeniable.

The way he leaned into my touch, seeking more closeness, was endearing beyond words. It was a reminder of the simple pleasures in life that these hybrids had been deprived of for so long.

"Have you never been given pets?" I asked slightly amused.

He shakes his head no and that breaks my heart.

The fact that he and probably the rest of the boys had never experienced such a simple form of affection before was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

It made me realize just how much they had missed out on in terms of basic care and love.

Observing the eagerness in the eyes of the other hybrids, I couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility weighing on me.

I had spent countless hours studying about hybrids, their behaviors, needs, and desires. 

Hybrids, as I had learned, were not just creatures to be feared or controlled. They were beings capable of deep emotions, forming bonds, and seeking out the warmth of touch and affection.

It was a side of them that many failed to see, overshadowed by their predatory instincts and fierce appearance.

So, when the other hybrids clamored around me, their eyes pleading for the same attention and care that Jin had received, I couldn't help but laugh at the sudden rush of demand for pets and cuddles.

It was a stark reminder of just how starved they were for these simple acts of kindness.

Without hesitation, I welcomed them into the circle, giving each of them the ear scratches and pets they had been longing for. 

The way their eyes lit up, their bodies relaxing under my touch, was a testament to the power of affection and care.

In that moment, surrounded by these powerful yet vulnerable beings, I knew that I had found my purpose.

To be the one who would give them everything they had been denied, to show them that in a world filled with darkness, there was still light and warmth to be found in simple gestures of love and kindness. 

I noticed only six of them came to me, their fluffy fur shimmering in the dim light of the room. They wagged their tails, eager for attention and pets.

I looked around and saw the seventh one standing alone in a corner, his eyes fixed on us but his body language distant, almost wary.

After I had finished giving the last hybrid his pets, I walked toward the seventh one cautiously.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, a hint of concern creeping into my voice as I approached him.

He seemed a bit shaken, but his expression remained neutral.

"Yes," he replied, his tone firm but not unkind.

I sensed something beneath the surface, a tension that made me worry for him even more. "Are you certain? You don't seem..." I trailed off as he suddenly cut me off, his voice sharp and accusing.

"I SAID I'M FINE! YOU DON'T NEED TO PRETEND THAT YOU CARE ABOUT ME OR ANY OF US!!" He exclaimed, his words cutting through the room and capturing the attention of the other hybrids.

His outburst caught me off guard, his voice starkly different from the gentle tones I had heard before. I felt a surge of confusion and a tinge of hurt. Why did he think I was pretending?

“What are you talking about?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper in the tense atmosphere.

His words came rushing out, filled with anger and pain.

"Oh, cut your bullshit, no human is nice. You all are just sick solipsistic, power-starved, sex-hungry beings that want to use hybrids to feel superior. I know all of this is solely a ploy for us to trust you, only to betray us in the end and inflict unimaginable suffering on us!"

Tears streamed down his face, his anguish palpable in the room. I stood there, struck by the intensity of his accusations and the depth of his despair. His words stung, painting a picture of humanity that I couldn't bear to see reflected in his eyes.

As the weight of his words settled around us, I realized the importance of listening, truly listening, to his pain and fears.

This wasn't just an outburst, it was a cry for understanding and empathy in a world that had shown him nothing but cruelty and distrust.

I took a step closer, a silent promise in my heart to prove him wrong and to show him that not all humans are the monsters he believed us to be.

The situation was heartbreaking, to say the least. It was evident that he wasn't just dealing with anger or frustration, no, he was battling deep-rooted pain, scars that ran far beneath the surface. 

His anguish transcended mere emotions, it was a haunting blend of hurt, fear, and utter terror.

And who could blame him, or any of them for that matter? 

After enduring such torment for an extended period, even the most joyful individual can find themselves in the shadowy depths of despair.

The quiet ones, those who bear their burdens in silence, are not exempt either, eventually, the weight becomes too much to bear.

It all boils down to a matter of endurance, of how much one can bear and for how long. For him, for all of them huddled in that dimly lit room, they had reached their breaking point. 

The seams of their collective resilience were unraveling, frayed threads of composure coming undone in a tumultuous display of raw emotion.

As I cautiously approached him, offering a gesture of comfort, he recoiled, a pained scream tearing through the heavy air. 

"NO, NO, NO, BACK AWAY FROM ME," his voice cracked with anguish, the words punctuated by gasps for air. 

His desperate plea to keep his distance, to spare him from further distress, echoed off the walls in a wrenching crescendo of agony.

"DON'T TOUCH ME, PLEASE, I'M SO TIRED OF THIS!! PLEASE, DON'T DO IT, D-DON'T DO I-IT."

The desperation in his voice was palpable, a visceral reminder of the turmoil festering within his shattered psyche.

I could see the torment etched in every line of his face, the anguish that had driven him to this precipice of despair.

With a gut-wrenching cry, he twisted his fingers into a tight grip, his knuckles white with strain. His back pressed against the unforgiving wall, he sank to the floor, the weight of his suffering bowing him down to the ground.

A lump formed in my throat, a bitter taste of helplessness settling in the pit of my stomach as I bore witness to his unraveling.

The sight was almost too much to bear, a tableau of anguish that seared itself into my mind's eye.

He was a man besieged, haunted by ghosts that only he could see. What unspeakable horrors had he endured, what demons lurked in the darkest recesses of his mind?

My heart ached for him, a silent cry of empathy for a soul adrift in a sea of pain.

As he began to scratch at his skin, the telltale signs of a panic attack setting in, my heart clenched with a sense of impending dread.

The frantic energy that coursed through him, the feral need to escape his own skin, painted a stark portrait of a mind in turmoil.

In that moment, all I could do was bear witness, a silent sentinel in the face of a storm that threatened to consume us all. The air was thick with unspoken anguish, a heavy shroud of despair that cloaked us in its suffocating embrace.

As I took the risk and wrapped my arms around the hybrid, a wave of emotions and thoughts flooded my mind.

The danger of being so close to a hybrid in such volatile tendencies lingered in the back of my head, but my concern for his well-being overshadowed any fear I felt. 

The bond that seemed to have formed between us, seven males and myself, appeared almost predestined, as if our meeting was written in the stars.

To outsiders, my actions might seem irrational or even foolish, but deep within me, there was an unexplainable pull towards these individuals.

Their vulnerabilities and struggles tugged at my heartstrings, compelling me to protect and nurture them. The connection I felt with the hybrid in my embrace was undeniable, despite the risks involved.

As he held me tightly, I could sense his turmoil and pain. It was a moment of raw emotions, where words seemed inadequate.

Yet, I found myself making promises, vowing to shield them from any harm that may come their way. My voice quivered with determination as I declared my commitment to safeguard their autonomy and ensure they led a life free of suffering.

"It's okay, sweetie," I whispered, the weight of my promise heavy in the air.

"I swear on my life that no harm will befall you or any of the others. Your life, your choices – no one will infringe upon them. I will earn your trust and build a shield around you, protecting you from the darkness that once plagued your existence. Your future is bright, and I will not allow anyone, including myself, to cast a shadow over it."

In that moment, my resolve solidified, fueled by a mix of defiance and solemnity.

I knew the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but my conviction to safeguard these individuals was unwavering. 

With every beat of my heart, I vowed to be their protector, their guardian, standing firm against any threat that dared to approach them.

And as we stood there, locked in an embrace that transcended words, I knew that this was just the beginning of a journey filled with unwavering loyalty and unbreakable bonds.

The male's once tense demeanor visibly softened, though he still clung onto me tightly, burying his face into the crook of my neck. The desperation in his actions was palpable. 

Glancing around, I realized that the others, who had been ominously silent until now, were all watching us intently. Despite their stoic expressions, the fear and weariness in their eyes betrayed their facade of indifference.

Turning my gaze back to the hybrid, I felt a shiver run down my spine as he held onto me with a fierce grip. His sudden intake of breath as he whispered in a low, guttural voice sent a chill down my spine.

"Noona"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hey, lovely readers!

I hope you're all doing well and enjoying the story so far. I'm eager to hear your thoughts on this latest chapter.

Did you predict which hybrid would burst out? Were you surprised by the twist, or did you see it coming?

Your feedback means a lot to me, so please drop a comment below and share your thoughts. And remember to reblog the story if you're hooked and want to show your support.

Your enthusiasm and engagement truly make my day, so thank you in advance for taking the time to read, comment, and reblog.

Every interaction with my work means the world to me, and I appreciate each and every one of you.

So, whether you're reading this in the tranquility of the night or the hustle and bustle of the day, I hope you're having a wonderful time.

And to all my beautiful butterflies out there, thank you for fluttering through these pages with me. 

Your presence adds magic to this journey, and I'm grateful for your companionship. You're all awesome and fabulous, and your support fuels my creative spirit.

Sending love and inspiration your way,

Author-nim.

TAGLIST OPEN!

TAGLIST: @strxwbloody @strawblueberrys

[buckets-and-trees]

haunting thoughts on Silent Screams

read it here: SILENT SCREAMS IN WILDEST DREAMS

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, side of Steve Word Count: 8k Content Warnings: dark dark DARK tale, smut, main character death, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, talk of wounds, slight dub/con, elements of somnophilia

RECAP: A dark tale with an unhappy ending. Just when you’ve married the man of your dreams, only just closed the chapter of your honeymoon, happily ever after is wrenched away, and you’re met with a nightmare you never could have imagined.

I published this in late November 2022, but I worked on it on and off between other projects for about six weeks from concept to research to writing. I wrote it for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Hallo-Cream Extravaganza, which was a cool challenge because there was a collection of numbered images you could choose from, and then when my image was confirmed, there was a prompt to go along with it.

It was also my first time participating in a challenge since getting back into writing fanfic. When I thought I was getting the sun alone, I was thinking vampires, but when I got the phrase along with the image, it halted the vampire idea I thought I would go with, and since I was already going to re-evaluate, it got my mind going even more. At the time I was also redefining a lot of pieces in my life and I had signed up to go solo on this 5-day retreat to a cabin in the woods... I ended up talking about some of the research and concept ideas for this fic on the six-hour drive to and from that cabin with a girl I carpooled with (we talked about so many things as you do with a stranger you just met when you're both going to the same retreat and want to save on gas). But I'll put the rest under a cut so as not to spoil for those who haven't read it.

When I realized it wasn't going to be vampires, I really wanted to then get totally outside of the box of things we see all the time. I decided I wanted to look up Scandinavian folklore as I was also trying to throw off some of the USAmerican culture I'd just been sitting in my whole life and explore some of my ancestral heritage. I figured there had to be a ton of stuff I'd just never learned about or heard of before and of course there was. One of the ideas I have buried for another day is to do kind of a Grimm or Phillip Pullman thing and do an anthology retelling of some of Scandinavian folktales because they were fascinating, and there were elements I was familiar with alongside very new pieces. It was so cool to begin to uncover the stories there...

But I was looking for a story that would also fit my prompt and lend itself to Bucky x Reader application.

I found the Gengångare. The lore is that they're a revenant/walker, and particularly in the Swedish tradition they're a corporeal form of a spirit that comes back after death. The spirit would have been murdered or killed and came back for mixes of revenge or unfinished business. That I could give Bucky - going on a mission, being killed, and having both revenge he could seek (against still living HYDRA folks who tormented and used him) and unfinished business in a promise that he makes to you, his reader newlywed bride, to come back to you.

And so the story begins with what I was hoping to be this blissful newlywed haze - the first morning after your honeymoon. Bucky is leaving for a mission - he'd said they were leaving later than he's actually going to leave because he didn't want you to get up hours before you needed to in order to send him off, but he does wake you up to share some kisses and say goodbye, it gets a little more heated, but there's no time for smut since he has to go, but he promises to pick up where you to left off when he returns, and there we have the tie he makes to come back to you.

I listen to music heavily throughout the day, but I wrote this fic with some very specific music through different sections. And for the opening, I was listening to This Love by Taylor Swift because its very romantically evocative for me, but some of the lyrics I knew could also be ripped into the horrific elements of this story, and so I truly loved it for that even more! - this love is good/this love is bad/this love is alive back from the dead

Then there are some other deep musical cues that when I was writing the rest of the fic, I was literally listening to these songs on repeat - a track from Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, two tracks from Netflix's The Empress series, etc - and so I actually embedded the Spotify players for them at particular parts for the particular songs. That's the only fic where I've so heavily "scored" it.

I put into the narrative that they didn't recover a body from Bucky for what I never specifically defined but figure was an explosion or an accident of some sort where not finding a body would be believable - but it's the Gengångare Bucky escaping. His undead soul seeks some revenge first, then he's pulled back to your door, but I wanted/tried to imply that he moves by these motivations and doesn't really remember much until he encounters something. So he shows up back on your doorstep, and it's as he interacts with you that he remembers more and more pieces of himself that are added back into the primal gengångare motivations.

The sex after he returns is frequently more rough and desperate, but since you're just as desperate for him, you don't question that it's the fact that his nature has changed - no longer human, but a creature that needs to leech the energy of another living thing to survive. He doesn't realize it at first either. But the first night he returns, his body is very cold, and he gets warmer the longer he's with you.

His bruises haven't healed, and you notice that, but he brushes it off. There's an inadvertent pinching on your back that's the beginning of the marks he can't help consuming you. He's truly insatiable, but since you were so consumed with grief and so deeply and desperately in love, you don't question it. When you finally do bring up having Bruce examine him or bringing Steve into things, he doesn't want that and presents good reasons - not wanting to be a body poked and prodded, and not wanting to worry Steve until he has more of his memory cleared up.

There's only a little bit of Alpine in this fic, but Alpine can tell that something is wrong with Bucky and so she is not around when he is at all after he comes back. The sex is exhausting, but it's because it's with this creature form of Bucky taking more and more of your life.

And then the spill of the story/the reveal. And it's all discovered when you're basically doomed by your love. And he literally makes love and fucks you to death, and is still so in love with you while doing it. Very sad. And his goodbye is the same goodbye he said to you in the first scenes of the story.

This was the darkest thing I'd written up to this point, and I really just wanted it to feel gothic and doomed, but twisted up in this all-consuming love. As I knew where the story was headed, I sort of just took deep breaths and steadied myself to dive into letting it have its dark ending. And I loved taking it there even though it was kind of scary for my first time. It was very haunting to write and I really tried to convey that feeling and have it bleed through.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

[late-to-the-party-81]

For your celebration. ❤️

Sex pollen/Fuck or die

With...😏

Let's (never) speak of this again

AN: tee hee Navy- thank you for this thot that ended up quite crackish!

Beta’d by @lunarbuck, dividers by @firefly-graphics, moodboard and banner by me.

Main Master list | Challenge Master list

Summary: When you and Sam get trapped in a bunker after getting hit with an aphrodisiac gas, you redefine the boundaries of your friendship.

Relationship: Sam Wilson x Agent Reader 

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: Sex Pollen, Smut, Banter, making light of a bad situation, Cheeky & charming Sam (he’s a warning), Little-Shit Bucky

“I still can’t believe… oh fuck… that we’re in this… yes! Yes! Right there!... mess.”

Sam’s cock pistoned up inside your dripping cunt, as you held onto the straps of the wingsuit. 

Thirty minutes ago this had just been a run-of-the-mill mission, but then some gas mask-wearing HYDRA goon had thrown a smoke bomb at the pair of you and closed the bulkhead door between you and the way out.

Once you’d finished coughing and realised that you were neither unconscious or apparently dying, you’d felt lucky.

“Huh. Must have been a dud, ey, Sam. Now to get out of here…”

“I’ll call the Tin Man to come down; he might be able to open it from the other side.”

Sam had got on the comms with Bucky, who’d been in another part of the bunker, while you inspected the door, seeing if you could find any weaknesses. You weren’t claustrophobic, but it was feeling a little close in the small space.

In fact, it was more than close. It was downright boiling. You unzipped your tack jacket part way to get some air circulation, but you could feel the sweat running down your neck. Your head throbbed, your pulse was strong, and why on earth did you have an ache between your legs? You turned to Sam and noticed two things straight away. 

Your friend and colleague also had sweat running down his face; he’d pulled off his goggles and was trying to wipe it away. The second thing was that the vibranium suit was doing nothing to hide the erection that was going on underneath it.

Something clicked in your brain, all the puzzle pieces coming together to show something horrifying. 

“Umm, Sam? What are the chances that the smoke bomb wasn’t a dud and that it had some kind of aphrodisiac smoke in it? Cos currently you look how I feel.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Bucky’ll get here soon and break us out…”

“No can do, Captain Bird. It’s gonna take at least an hour to get to where you guys are. And the jet computers are reading anomalies in both your vitals. Nothing too bad to worry about, but if you have been hit by some kind of drug. I think it’s going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better.”

You dropped your head back against the bulkhead door with a thud.

“Great. So not only am I trapped inside a metal box for an hour, I’m going to have the major horn and be totally frustrated.”

Sam looked at you.

“Hey, I’m going through the same thing here. At least it’s not so visible for you. I wasn’t expecting to be showing off what I’m packing while trapped in a room with you.”

You couldn’t stop your giggle before running a blatant eye over him.

“I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, though.”

Sam raised his eyebrow in return and grinned.

“I know I’ve got nothing to worry about.” He strode towards you, cocky and self-confident, and damn this drug barreling through your system for making you like it. Totally the drug. “Never had a single complaint.”

The beat of your heart echoed in your underwear, so strong it was bordering on painful.

“Sam…” There was a rasp to your voice. “It hurts, Sam.” 

His playful expression immediately dropped, replaced by one of concern. He pressed the back of his hand on your forehead and you moaned at his touch.

“You’re burning up. Fuck. Buck! What are our options?”

“As I see it, you got two. You either try and ride it out til I get to you. Or… you help each other out. I doubt it will be long before you’re struggling too, Sam.”

“Double fuck!”

You let out a bark of laughter. You’d never heard Sam swear so often in such a short space of time.

“Was that an offer, Cap? Cos I can tell you, I’m close to folding here.” You drove your point home by fully removing your tack jacket and throwing it to the floor, leaving your chest heaving in your tank top. You were dizzy and finding it hard to breathe. You closed your eyes, just for a second, while you tried to find your equilibrium.

You knew when Sam moved even closer; you could smell him. Smell his sweat, his heat. His hand, rough and calloused, cupped your cheek and your legs almost gave out.

“Hey. I got you. I got you. I feel it too, sugar. Feel like I’m gonna explode. What do you wanna do? Your decision. We’re two grown-ups. We’re friends. We can be mature about this.”

You opened your eyes and looked up into Sam’s. You could see the concern, the softness, and part of you wished this were ‘real’.

“Sounds like you’re eager, Sam. See something you like?” You were trying to inject levity into the situation, but your attempt was derailed by the pained groan that came out of your mouth instead of a chuckle.

“At the risk of sounding crass, you’re an attractive woman, and I’m not blind. But I do respect our friendship.” You bit your lower lip and nodded. 

“Same, Sam. Same. Okay… okay… um… let’s try to keep this…um… professional.”

“If that’s what you need. Lemme sit down. This is getting a bit uncomfortable.”

He slid his body down the wall and splayed his legs. His hand hovered over the fly of his suit.

“Can I? I mean, if we’re gonna do this, I sorta have to.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. You turned slightly away from him and decided to shuck your own pants. The sound of two zips being lowered was loud in the air, along with Sam’s gasp of relief as the pressure he’d been feeling lessened a bit.

With your lower half bare except for your soaked cotton panties, you stepped over to him, trying not to stare too much at his cock. Straddling him, you lowered yourself, pulling your underwear to the side, and sinking down.

Your twin moans filled the air, and you rested your forehead against his and took hold of his straps.

“I… apologise now… for… anything inappropriate… I might say.” Sam’s voice was gravelly, a timbre that had you shuddering slightly on top of him.

“Yeah… feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Should I move?”

“Please, sugar. I’m dying.”

You rode him, fingers a death grip on his suit and his broad hands spanning your waist. You breathed into each other’s necks, a mutual silent agreement that kissing was off the cards. You had hoped that when you came you’d feel better, but no such luck. Sam seemed to have a similar issue. You felt him cum inside you, his hips bucking beneath your own, but he stayed rock hard.

“I still can’t believe… oh fuck… that we’re in this… yes! Yes! Right there!... mess.”

“I still can’t believe that��� Christ!… I get to fuck you, but it’s under these shitty circumstances.”

You grinned into his neck.

“Thought about it a lot then, Cap?”

He chuckled back.

“I plead the fifth… oh yes, sugar! Gonna make me cum again. Gonna fill you up…”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth on you, Sam!” You upped your pace and gripped him as you did.

“And… you…love it.”

How was he still so cheeky and charming? You’d experienced it on a low level before, but now he’d turned it up to 11. You knew the only reason you hadn’t combusted was due to the drug running through your veins.

“Take me out on a date first.”

“Was that an offer, sugar? Cos I’m close to folding here…”

You lifted your head, looking at him properly, seeing both the ecstasy and sincerity etched across his handsome features.

“Fuck it.”

You pressed your lips to his, feeling him immediately accept your kiss and deepen it. His hands moved from your waist then, one shifting to the back of your head and the other dipping between you to your clit. Only the briefest of touches and you were cumming again, crying out into his mouth as your spasming pussy brought him to his own end as well.

The pair of you sagged against each other, dragging in deep lungfuls of air.

“Tell you what, Sam, you can take me out on a date on one condition. Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Deal, sugar.”

“Am I allowed to talk about it?”

You and Sam looked at each other in shock as you both realised the comm was still open before shouting out in unison.

“BUCKY!”

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @talia-rumlow

[dungeons-bat]

Law Beyond Shadows

Hey, this is the second story I'm posting here. Let's not judge, constructive critics are always welcomed though!

About:

In a city torn between vigilante justice and the law, Isabel Montesh, a fearless lawyer, finds herself drawn to the enigmatic vigilante known as The Punisher. While others fear the bloodshed he leaves in his wake, Isa sees him as a necessary force against the criminal underworld. When she discovers that Frank Castle, The Punisher's true identity, is in need of adequate legal representation, Isa dives headfirst into the dangerous world of defending the man without a mask. As she navigates through legal challenges and faces opposition from her own prestigious law firm in Hell's Kitchen, she is determined to offer Castle the help he needs. Little does she know that this decision will lead her down a path of intrigue, danger, and unexpected alliances, ultimately shaping her destiny as she becomes not only Frank Castle's lawyer but a key player in the battle for justice in the heart of Manhattan. The lines between law and vigilantism blur as Isa Montesh takes on a case that will test her convictions and redefine her understanding of justice.

ATTENTION: This work is based on Marvel's "The Punisher" and "Daredevil", some characters are NOT MY CREATION, some chapters are inspired by episodes of said series.

Warnings: Description of violence and romantic actions (no smut 'till now though.)

Archive Of Our Own : The Complete Work

Status: Unfinished

Fandom: The Punisher (TV 2017), The Punisher (TV 2017) RPF, Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Frank Castle/Original Female Character(s), Matt Murdock/Karen Page Characters: Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Karen Page, Original Female Character(s), Original Characters

[bacarasbabe]

Pairing: Wrecker x Female Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Wrecker accidentally wakes you up when he's trying to make you feel good during your rest.

Tags: somnophilia, sleep sex, dry humping, vaginal fingering, body worship, feelings, fluff

Notes: First, thank you to all my friends who read the draft of this fic! I always appreciate your help and I'm so lucky to know all of you. I love you all very dearly! 💖💖💖💖

I'm submitting this to @malewife-hansolo for her Redefining Sex - A Smut Challenge. This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you like it!

“Hunter?” You jerk awake, confused and exhausted in your cramped bunk on the Havoc Marauder. It feels like someone woke you up and your mind immediately goes thinking there’s a problem. Why are you awake? What’s wrong? Did Hunter call for you? Why do you feel like there’s something urgent you need to take care of? It’s difficult to process what’s happening because almost as soon as you ask yourself these questions you realize you’re wrong. There’s nothing wrong. It’s the exact opposite actually. Your pussy is sensitive and your clit is aching and you’re so karking close to coming.

“Could Hunter fill you up like I do?” Wrecker breathes the question into your ear and you pitch a moan, thrusting your head back and canting your hips onto his hand as he slips another thick digit inside your dripping cunt. The back of your head hits his soft hairy chest and Wrecker leans down and brushes a soft kiss to your sweaty hairline.

Kriff. Fucking stars! Your brain feels like it's switched to hyperdrive as your gut drops low. Another moan slips loud and low as Wrecker increases the pressure of each thrust of his hand that's fucking into you, keeping a steady pace. You know he must have been at this for a while from the loud wet noises your pussy makes every time he thrusts his two fat fingers inside of you. Your arousal is dripping out of you and onto the sheets below leaving you a sticky mess.

“That’s it, mesh’la,” Wrecker praises you as you rock your hips in time with his thrusting hand. “Thought you weren’t gonna wake up before I made you come.” You make more room for him between your legs by lifting your top leg up and back, resting your calf on his large hairy thighs, spreading yourself open further. A hiccup runs through your body and you slap your hand against the cool durasteel wall of your bunk to use as leverage. Desperate and needy, you search for any way to help you fuck yourself back on Wrecker’s hand. “You’re so kriffing pretty. You know you’ve already made me come. Wigglin’ around in your sleep and pressing that round ass of yours onto me.” Oh, fuck! He grunts and you can feel his huge fat cock pressing between the globes of your ass. It’s smooth and hard and wet but you can feel more precum being smeared on your lower back every time you cant your hips. “Gonna come again if you keep- moving like that.” His words seem to catch in his throat.

“Wrecker! Please-” You all but cry as he pulls his fingers out of you.

“It’s okay. I’ve got yah. I’ve got yah,” he soothes as bring his arm over your front and quickly slips back inside with a wet squelch. From this angle the heel of his hand rubs your aching clit every time he works his fingers inside of you.

It hits you almost immediately. Your orgasm pushing through you hard, trying to force Wrecker’s fingers out of your cunt, but he keeps his hand firm. Crooking his fingers inside and pressing up against the spongy spot that makes you see stars inside your tiny bunk. Wrecker keeps his fingers still, giving plenty for your cunt to come around, to squeeze down on as he still slowly grinds the heel of hand against you. Lengthening your orgasm and forcing you to come as hard as you physically can.

He’s groaning and rutting behind you. “Fuck! S’ good,” Wrecker buries his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His breath is hot on your skin and suddenly your back feels wet and warm as his cum is smeared between you. There’s no way the others can’t hear you. Both you and Wrecker do absolutely nothing to stop your shouts and moans. The doors aren’t exactly soundproof and the Marauder isn’t exactly large. It just feels too good to try and be quiet and your mind is too fuzzy to even think about being polite. You’re bound to hear complaints from the others, but it hardly matters. It’s only Wrecker you care about right now.

Wrecker pants in your ear as you continue to clamp down on his fingers. “Came again just fucking now,” And stars, if that isn’t so karking hot. “From your sweet cunt gushing on my fingers. Can you feel it baby?” he asks as he rubs his softening cock against your ass. Yes, you nod letting him know that you can feel him. You know what you do to him just like how he can feel what he does to you. His hand is soaked and the sheets are soaked and there’s no way he can’t know how good he makes you feel. Eventually you both slow and Wrecker eases the pressure of his hand off your mound, not wanting to overstimulate you, but he keeps his fingers buried inside. The two of you lay together, entwined, and breathing in harmony as you come down from your mutual highs.

“Wreck, mmh, love you,” you tell him as you turn your head to press kisses along his jaw. Wrecker moves his head and meets your lips with his. Lazy, warm kisses are traded between the two of you. Lips and tongues pressing against each other, making your heart flutter and your mind drift. At some point, with Wrecker’s tongue in your mouth, you must clench again because he slowly withdraws his soaked fingers from your cunt before pressing them slowly back into you. “Oh!” You gasp into his mouth as he lethargically fucks you with his hand.

“There you go,” His chest rumbles as you manage to wrap your arm around the one he’s using to fuck you, pressing it tight against your body. You whisper his name as the fire inside of you begins to kindle anew. “Use me however you want, mesh’la. Keep grinding on my hand and make yourself come. Or I can keep them inside of yah to keep you full while you fall asleep.”

You still your rocking for just a second. “Can I have both?” Voice small, you’re shy to ask, feeling greedy even though you know there’s no logical reason to feel either way.

Wrecker finds your lips again and encourages you to start again by rubbing your mound with the heel of his hand. “‘Course you can,” he says against your lips. You love this. This feeling of being full and not just in the literal sense. You’re full to burst with love for Wrecker, with his love for you. And the easy way he fucks you. Just slow and steady. He’s in no rush to make you come, for you to be finished. He just wants to make you feel good. However he can make that happen.

Steadily grinding on Wrecker’s hand, you lose track of time being held in his arms. Sometimes you begin to drift off, sleep beginning to fog the edges of your mind. But then his fingers shift and find that spot and you turn into a wanton mess. “Wreck, I can’t-” it’s beginning to frustrate you. Slowly chasing an orgasm you’re not sure you can reach but you definitely want.

“Do you want to try another finger?” You can hear the smile in his words. He’s basking in the feeling of you wanting him. Of wanting more of him.

“Yes! Please, I just want one more. Just wanna come one more-” You cut off. Completely distracted by the feeling of a third large finger edging your slick hole. Wrecker hums deeply, vibrating into your back as he gently eases a third finger into your stretched cunt. “Yes-” you gasp, so fucking thankful for the extra finger. The added stretch feels so good. He makes sure your clit has enough friction on his hand but he lets you set the pace as you grind against him, leaking all over.

“Mesh’la,” He breathes. Excited and sated and awed all at once. “You gonna make yourself come?”

“Yes!” You cling to his arm. It’s enormous. He’s soft and hairy and he feels like home as his burly muscles flex under your fingers with each thrust of his hand. The pace is slow. Too tired to move any faster but Wrecker knows exactly what you need. He strokes the inside of your cunt as best he can with his three fingers. It’s not much with how full you are, but it feels karking amazing. Your needy mewls letting Wrecker know that you're close.

“Go ahead, mesh’la. Come on my fingers. Use my hand the way yah need.” His kind, enraptured words push you over the edge one more time. The feeling washes through you, up your spine and down your limbs. It settles in your fingers and toes, tingling in pleasured relief. Your head is light and your body sags, head hitting the mattress below, grip loosening on Wreckers arm. He slows his thrusting to a stop and nuzzles into your neck once more to place soft kisses. “Did yah feel good?”

Huffing a laugh you turn and pepper kisses along any part of him you can reach. “You always make me feel good.” You punctuate your answer with a long kiss to his lips.

“I think you should try and go back to sleep,” Wrecker quietly laughs as you stifle a yawn. His nose brushes along the side of your face and you can feel the smile on his lips pressed against your cheek.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Closing your eyes you feel relaxed, boneless, happy in your cramped and messy bunk. Just the two of you, shut off from the rest of the crew, the rest of the universe. Only allowing yourself to exist in this moment in time with your beloved. “Can you-” you can’t help the heat that rises in your face once more. “Will you stay? Inside?” Your tired pussy flutters around Wrecker’s fingers.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Wrecker’s large hand cups your entire mound, just resting there, keeping you full and sated. He makes you feel so safe, completely taken care of. “Sleep,” He requests softly. And even as he’s holding on to you, your limbs entwined, spent and dirty, he knows how to make the moment sweet. His soft deep hums easily fill the remaining spaces of your bunk. The song sounds like a lullaby. You don’t know the words, or if there are lyrics at all. He’s never sung it for you. But the melody is bone achingly familiar to you by now with how often Wrecker hums it for you. Trying to hum along for a few loping measures, your higher pitch harmonizes with Wrecker’s deep bass. You manage to follow along for just a bit before sleep tugs you down. Wrapped up in the hazy edges of your mind, comforted by Wrecker’s warmth. His love and his presence blankets you, his gentle song a pillow for your head.

“Love you,” you manage to tell him before you completely slip away into blissful unconsciousness. Carried off by the gentle ebb and flow of the hummed melody.

Wrecker waits patiently for you. Always. Listening to your breathing to make sure you’re fast asleep before letting his song trail away. “Love yah too,” he whispers as softly as possible. Trying to make sure he doesn’t wake you up again. He rests easy with you in his arms. The last thing he wants to do is let go. So he holds on tight. Both to you and to a forever he wants with you.

Masterlist

Tagging some mutuals that might be interested. I'm redoing my tag list so dm me or send an ask if you want on my tag list. (No pressure to read if I've tagged you.)

@malewife-hansolo @saradika @zinzinina @ladyopress @mandaloriandin @thiccumz @luladoll @clanoffetts @rexsjaigeyes @dogmascutie @themaydecemberist

[book-of-baba-fett]

Passing Time - Hunter x Fem!Reader

In between jobs on Ord Mantell, you meet a mysterious man named Hunter who’s more than willing to help you kill some time.

AO3 link

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, bar hookup, oral sex (fem receiving), thigh riding, vaginal and anal fingering, light degradation, light spitting, light biting

Notes: hit 99 followers on the same day as The Bad Batch finale so I thought of a little Hunter smut as a treat. This was my take on@delusionsxfgrandeur ‘s Redefining smut challenge!

Word Count: 2.2k

Cid’s bar is as seedy as ever, with grime covering every surface including the glass you’re drinking from. You examine the glass, twirl around the brown liquor, then pour it down your throat figuring the alcohol must work as a disinfectant. You just finished a drop off for Cid and are hanging tight while your astromech works on some maintenance for your ship. The droid was going to comm you once everything was flight ready for your next job, but for now you’re trying to to find the best way to way to kill time. And the ache in between your legs reminds you that you can’t even remember the last time you had a good fuck.

Scanning the room, you realize there’s not much to work with. Just a weequay and an ithorian, both obviously intoxicated as they argue over a game in the corner. Otherwise the place is empty, except for a man sitting on the other edge of the bar. By the Republic issue armor he wore, you could assume he was a clone but he was unlike any clone you had seen before. There were some basic facial similarities, but he wasn’t identical to is countless counterparts. He had long dark hair, that curled to his neckline, kept away from his face by a red bandana. What captures your eyes is the skull tattoo covering half his face; you can’t help but lick your lips when you wonder how far it goes down his body.

“Hey Cid,” you wave down the Trandoshan. “Another round for me, and a drink for the man down the end of the bar too.”

“Huh, Dark and Broody?” Cid questions you, a confused and judgmental look on her face. “Sheesh, kid, I guess everyone has their own type but fine.”

Cid hands the drink to the man, who looks around the bar surprised until his eyes found you. He cocks a brow, and he lifts the drink up to you. You mirror his movements and you each take a sip at the same time. He slowly rises from the seat and stalks his way towards you.

“So you must be Dark and Broody?” You extend your hand to him. The man let’s our a soft chuckle.

“Did Cid tell you to say that?” His low and husky voice asks before he properly introduces himself “It’s Hunter, and I must say you don’t seem like Cid’s usual clientele.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” You smirk at him. He must be another bounty hunter under Cid’s employment, you think as you notice how armed he is. He leans on the counter next to you, and you don’t fail to notice the way his eyes drift up and down your body. If he’s in your line of work, maybe he’s in the same need for some relief as you are. You shift in your seat, painfully aware of your growing arousal as you and Hunter make small talk. You had your fair share of lovers, but there was something about his magnetic ruggedness that intrigued you. That and the fact that he seems reluctant to give you any information about himself, but that wasn’t too uncommon in your line of work. But you don’t need his life story, you just need him to satisfy your itch.

“So how’s the men’s room here?” You ask.

“I’m sorry, what?” Ahh, it seems you’ve broken his tough guy facade to earn a flustered look on his face.

“The men’s room,” you repeat. “The last time I was here the women’s door wasn’t working properly and when you closed it you were locked in or you had to keep the door open. And I’m really looking for some privacy and no interruptions, so I’m curious if the men’s room will work.”

You down the rest of your drink, licking your lips as you finish, carefully keeping eye contact with him as you do. You watch his face process your words, his pupils expanding in his dark eyes and the corner of his lips on his tattooed side rises as he realizes your meaning.

“I think it’ll do just fine, I can show you the way?”

“What a gentleman,” you tease, taking his hand.

***

Your hands are on each other the second the door closes behind you. His grip on your plush ass, pulling you tighter to him. Yours find their way through his curls, tugging his hair as his mouth meets yours in a needy kiss. His large hands travel up your curves, until they reach your head and cup your face as he pulls back from the kiss.

“Such a dirty little thing aren’t you?” He rasps out. “Going into a filthy bar bathroom with a man you don’t even know?”

“What can I say? I like things a little messy.” You glance at him through heavy lashes as you grind against his codpiece.

“Open your mouth.” He orders, the deep tone in his voice going straight to your core, where you already feel your arousal dripping from you. You follow his command, just for him to spit in your eagerly awaiting hole. He groans as you close your mouth and swallow it. You bring your lips back to his as you make out with him again.

One of his hands leaves your face so it can trail down your waist and under your top, roughly groping your breast. You let out a soft moan into his mouth as his thumb flicks over your nipple. You feel him smirk against you, as he adjusts his ministrations so he’s lightly pinching your pebbled nipple. Your head involuntarily tilts back at the please and his mouth connects with your now open neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin.

You stumble backwards under his exploring hands, your back hitting the bathroom door behind you. Hunter uses this to his advantage, and grabs hold of your hip with one hand while the other continues its squeezing of your breast. He brings a leg in between yours and presses it against the apex of your thighs. You cry out as you finally have some friction against your aching core. You instinctively grind on his thigh; the crease of his armor and the seam on your pants combining to rub against your clit in the most addicting way that you can’t stop yourself. Your hands reach to his shoulders as you balance yourself against him.

Hunter watches, eyes blown out in lust, as you use him to chase your own needs. The hand on your hip assists your movements, making you gyrate faster and faster into the man. Moans are rolling off your lips, and your head snaps back against the wall as you feel the tightening coil of an approaching orgasm in your stomach.

Hunter bends down to nibble at your earlobe, his warm breath panting against your skin as he whispers, “Such a sexy thing, riding my thigh to get yourself off. You’re almost there, aren’t you? Dirty little slut. “

You whimper against him, your eyes shutting so you can focus on your impending climax. A harsher bite on your neck makes you yelp, and your eyes snap open to see Hunter staring at you.

“I asked you a question, be a good girl and answer me."

Your mind stutters for a moment before his harsh gaze reminds you of what he asked you. “Yes... I’m so close!” You gasp out at him, as you continue humping his leg. He smirks as his smoky eyes stay locked your face, watching every reaction as you build to your peak.

“Go on them, cum for me.” You cry out on his order, and his mouth clamps down on yours so he can muffle the sound to avoid being discovered by the few patrons in the bar. Your orgasm rolls through your body, your hips unrelenting in their thrusting on Hunter’s thigh as you ride out the waves of bliss. Once your movement slows, Hunter pulls back from kissing you to examine you in your post ecstatic state. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed and eyes drooping; you’re the sexiest thing he’s seen in a long time. And he wants to make you do it again.

He removes his gloves as he shifts his thigh out from under you, making you slump against the wall. You sigh, feeling him drag a hand over your covered center. He groans, feeling the wetness seeping through your pants from your previous orgasm. His fingers fumble with your buttons, then he roughly pulls the pants down and over your ankles. He presses his face against your panty covered mound, inhaling deeply as he’s intoxicated by your arousal. Looking back up at you, he licks a long strip over your panties, circling around your hidden clit. You moan from the overstimulation as you grip the door handle behind you, your legs still feeling like jelly and struggling to hold you up.

Sensing your predicament, Hunter slides your panties down your legs and removes them, tossing them in the pile with your pants. He then props one of your legs over his shoulder and presses a hand against your abdomen to hold you upright.

His warm breath wafts against your sensitive skin as he separates your folds with two thick fingers. His tongue slowly peaks out, teasing your swollen clit with delicate flicks. You groan as you feel the warm wetness of him lapping up the release of your previous orgasm. Once he’s sure you’re past the point of overstimulation and ready to go again, he attacks with more fervor.

Your head snaps to the wall again as he starts devouring you with a renewed intensity, his lips closing around your clit as his tongue rapidly circles and flicks it. He switches up the rapid movements with broad, strong strokes against your pussy, making your hips arch into his face to push more pressure from him. He hums into you as you moan above him, the vibrations adding to the euphoric sensation of his tongue against you. He’s a quick study to your body, following any hitch of your breath or moan to follow what you like and return to those sweet spots over and over again as he enjoys you.

You feel a prodding at your entrance as he pokes one large finger into you, your hips keening against him as you allow him to push deeper into you. With a gasp, you feel him add a second finger into your tingling pussy. He groans, watching your cunt grip his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you.

“So wet for me, mesh’la.” He growls dipping his head back to lap at your clit while he fingers you. Matching the pace of his hand and mouth, you feel the tension of another orgasm building up. His fingers crook inside you, pressing against that hard to reach spongy spot inside you.

“Yes, right there!” You cry out, begging him not to stop. He focuses on hitting that spot with every thrust of his hand. He brings his other hand around to your ass, squeezing your cheek and bringing you closer to him to ravage. Your breath leaves your body in wanton moans as he brings you closer and closer to the edge again. The hand on your ass slides inward, until you feel a single finger circling around your other entrance.

“Hunter!” You yelp as the finger pokes in, teasing along your sensitive entrance. Your head flops down so you meet his eyes, a devilish, lustful darkness taking over them as he continues eating you out while fingering both of your holes. His pace in in your cunt increases, finger bending and stroking you just where you need him as he wrenches your orgasm out of you.

Toes curling, head snapping back, and eyes rolling into your head: you cry out. Your body tenses, your legs quake and you would fall over if it were not for him holding you up. Your pussy pulses as you release, the waves of ecstasy overpowering your body. Hunter works you through your release, removing the hand from your ass to keep you steady. He softly laps at your folds and slows the push of his fingers in you until he feels your walls stop pulsing then he removes them.

He rises off his knees to kiss you, his mouth glistening with a mixture of your release and his own spit. You lean into the kiss, one much softer than the ones that started you escapades. You curse to yourself when you notice your comm going off.

“That important?” Hunter grumbles against your skin, his lips dragging along your cheek.

You groan, realizing it’s your droid letting you know your ship is ready to go. “Sadly, it is.” You had wasted to much time before starting your next job. You look at him with apologetic eyes, your previous experiences with men leading you to think he might be angry about your lack of reciprocation. To your surprise, he grins and holds up his hands as he steps away.

“No worries, I get it. Duty calls.” He hands you your pants from off the ground, you mumble your thanks, looking around for your underwear when you realize he’s twirling them in his fingers. He smirks at you before he sniffs them and places them in a compartment on his belt. “Hey, if you want these back you’ll just have to find me next time you’re back on Ord Mantell.”

[buryustogether]

| gold on your fingertips |

summary | as a junior time agent for the tva, you’re never allowed to be alone with your current case, loki of asgard. when you invite him to your place for a nightcap, neither of you can suffocate the feelings that have grown for one another.

word count | 3k

warnings | f!reader, smut, slight religion talk/references, oral (f! receiving), fingering, virgin!reader, age gap, alcohol consumption

inspired by hostage by billie eilish

i want to be alone,

alone with you, does that make sense?

You knew you weren’t supposed to, but to whatever god stood above, did you find him attractive.

As an agent of the TVA - well, junior agent in training under your mentor, Mobius - you were not allowed to have any romantic relationships or connections to anyone on the timeline that would sway the way the days and nights turned onwards. You were young, just shy of your twenty-second or third birthday; not that you really kept track. Your job was not to dwell on personal issues and sentiments - it was to catch variants that threatened your Sacred Timeline. Doing anything of the dangerous sort was forbidden; and yet, you couldn’t help but find your latest case rather intriguing.

His name was Loki of Asgard, royalty to the ‘T’ and missing only the golden crown on his head when you had first met him. He was a tricky subject, sure. At first, he had been angry and resistant, but then again, so were all variants when they were first brought into the TVA. Over the weeks that followed, you and Mobius had managed to somewhat tame the raging beast within his heart… and you yourself may have caught that exactly.

You couldn’t pretend you didn’t notice the lingering glances he spared you when you were sitting close to one another, the way his Atlantic-colored eyes chased your lips when you spoke about something you were passionate about. And in return, there was nothing you could do, no magic spell you could cast upon yourself to keep you from pulling yourself away from him, either. The way his dark, raven tresses fell across his face when he walked with a bit more of a purpose alongside you, how his long, slender fingers worked swiftly and gracefully on paperwork the two of you poured over for hours.

And yet, you were never given the chance to get closer to Loki. Mobius made sure that you were never quite alone with him, far too professional and protective of your naivety to let you be corrupted by the God of Mischief. At the end of the day, you were sent off home, and Loki was placed back in his little ‘apartment-like’ holding cell in the TVA. You pitied him greatly, unable to sleep without eyes on him and dress without being waited on impatiently.

Which was exactly what led you to sneaking him out of his cell one evening and back to your place for a post-work nightcap.

You bounced a little on the balls of your feet as you waited for the spherical elevator to take you back to your own apartment, glancing at the man beside you every few moments. He was so tall it nearly astounded you. With his hands folded neatly behind his back and a coy, little smile upon his face, he looked like he could have been worshipped as a deity. Which, you supposed, he had been before this.

Loki finally cleared his throat after a few long minutes of quiet and looked down at you. “I’m not quite sure Mobius would approve of this little rendezvous, darling.”

You sucked in a small breath and nervously bounced on your feet again. “It’s not a rendezvous,” you tried to say sternly. Instead, your words came out as if the statement were a question. “We’re having a drink after a hard day’s work. I think we both deserve it, don’t you?”

The smirk upon his thin lips grew and he released a stomach-clenching chuckle. “I do, indeed.”

At last, the elevator deposited you to your apartment, a relatively small space issued to TVA agents such as yourself. There wasn’t much to show; just a couch and a projector for entertainment, a little bedroom with a bathroom, and a cramped kitchenette in the corner. It wasn’t all that, but it was home. With a contented sigh, you pulled your heels off and dropped them by the door, then motioned for Loki to do the same with his shoes. While he complied and carefully hung his Variant jacket on the hook on the wall, you tread to the fridge and pulled out an already-chilled bottle of your favorite from the plain box. Even if he had rejected your offer for a nightcap, you knew you were still going to drink until you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Your dwelling is the size of my wardrobe back on Asgard,” said Loki, then stoped himself, as if just then realizing what he said could have been interpreted as pretentious.

However, you gave a quiet laugh as you finished pouring out two glasses of alcohol, handing one over and taking a seat on the couch. “Please,” you said with a huff as you tucked your legs under you, tugging at the ends of your skirt, and leaned back. “I’m pretty sure the broom closet back at work is bigger than my place.” You took a long sip before you realized he was still standing, holding the drink rather awkwardly in his hands while he glanced around. It seemed his demeanor had changed entirely from what it had been in the elevator.

“You know you can sit,” you said and gestured to the other half of the couch. “I’m not going to prune you for kicking your feet up for once.”

Loki was silent and still for a moment, considering your words, before he finally took a seat and crossed his legs, bringing the amber liquid to his lips like it would run dry if he waited any longer. To your surprise, he didn’t flinch like you normally did; you supposed it took much more to faze a god than it did a regular human such as yourself.

“To be honest,” you said slowly, swirling your liquor in your glass, “this is the first time I’ve ever had someone at my place.” You caught his gaze before smiling wistfully and waving your cup. “According to the TVA, work belongs at work and home belongs at home.”

Loki hummed his acknowledgement. “You speak as if you don’t care for your association and fellow time agents.”

“Eh.” You took another sip, attempting to focus on the taste of fire and boldness rushing down your throat. “I do, really. It’s just…” You hesitated.

“What?”

Quirking your brows, you took a breath and tried to prepare yourself. “I guess it feels like there’s so much more out there for me. In whatever time or place. That… I’m meant for a little more than this, you know?”

It was a bit taboo speaking against the TVA as you just had, and you nearly felt the need to glance over your shoulder as if hunters would bust down your door and take you away. Loki seemed to sense your nervousness and slowly, cautiously, placed a hand on the ball of your knee. You glanced at it, and then him before clearing your throat and shaking your head with a small chuckle.

“Anyways,” you murmured, eyes still lingering on the palm laying against your leg, “enjoy it while you can. I’m sure if Mobius gets wind of this, I’ll be sent down to the Records Department.”

Loki finished his glass and set it down on the side table, his free hand smoothing down his tie. “That would be quite a shame,” he said smoothly. His eyes flashed a glint that, with just a glance could have been mistaken for mischief, but what you saw was sincere and genuine. “I do quite look forward to seeing you every day I’m trapped in this place.”

Your fingertips fiddled with the rim of your glass for a long moment before you at last followed his actions and set it down. But then, you were at a loss. You had been created specifically for the sole purpose of serving the TVA; you had never felt this way before toward someone, much less had the urges to do what you wished with him. Why was he looking at your mouth? You knew of kisses and passion and sex, of course, but you didn’t quite understand it. Could this be what it was like?

Could you even bring yourself to try to know?

Slowly, testing the waters before he cast out, Loki leaned forward to slide his free hand along the surface of your cheek and came to rest on your cheekbone. The touch sent a shudder down your spine you couldn’t hide, skin aflame and heart thundering dangerously loud. In a gentle, yet fluid motion, he leaned forward across the space separating you to tenderly press his lips to yours. His mouth moved against yours, guiding you, and he took it as a sign to move closer when you reached out to grab his tie.

He shifted on top of you, caging you in with his knees, so that he was kneeling, his back tall as he craned his neck downwards to pull your face closer to his. Dark locks hung like curtains, tickling your features as he cradled the back of your head and carded his fingers through your own hair.

It felt like what some humans called heaven, and that was all you could say to describe it. The way his mouth moved against yours so passionately, so gently and affectionately, made your blood spike with an adrenaline you had never known. It lifted your very soul from your body, buried you and made you fly all at once.

Loki’s mouth opened and you were surprised to find his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips, politely asking for permission before he traveled any further. You gave him what he was seeking. The muscle, soft and content, moved against your own a moment before it explored the roof of your mouth, grazed over your teeth, reached back as far down your throat as it could go. When it seemed he was properly satisfied, he pulled away from you to brush a thumb over your cheek and touch his forehead to yours.

He panted a few times before he said, “May I?”

Again, you weren’t quite sure exactly what he was referring to. Was he asking to keep kissing you? Take your clothes off? No matter what he wanted, your answer was the same. “Yes.”

Then, catching you off guard, Loki moved your arms around his neck before digging his hands into the places beneath your thighs, heaving you up into his arms so that your ankles were crossed behind his back. While he carried you to your bedroom - the only place to go - you continued your broken make out session, reconnecting your mouths with a need you had no idea you had in you. He only parted from you when he had lain you down on the mattress like the most delicate china doll, mindful of every ounce and bit of pressure he placed on you.

Was this was passion was? Was this what it meant to care for someone in this way?

His fingers, those beautiful, gorgeous fingers, made quick, yet careful work of the buttons on your shirt before pushing it aside and reaching around to unclasp your bra. A light gasp escaped your throat when your naked breasts hit the exposed air; no one, much less any man, had ever seen you like this. You were a bit self conscious, folding your hands over your chest, but he grabbed your wrists and held them above your head while his face lowered.

“My dear,” Loki said, his breath hitting your skin and raising goosebumps, “there is nothing more eternally beautiful in this world than what I am looking at right now.” His tongue, hot and spongy, flicked out to drag a short line in the valley between your breasts.

A stammered noise left you as you looked down, watching the top of his head as he slowly shifted to one side of your chest. Softly, almost tentatively, he took one of your nipples in his mouth and rolled it with his tongue like an expert; not that you would know what an expert could do. All you knew was that it felt better than anything ever had before, and it was sending an electric signal straight down to your core. Unconsciously, you bucked your hips up against his torso, and you swore you could feel him smile when he moved to your other breast.

“Loki,” you said, attempting to keep your voice regular. He gave a hum, still grazing his teeth across your flesh. “I’ve… I haven’t…”

“I know,” was his reply. You didn’t ask how he knew, because you didn’t really have the time nor the strength. “I know, my darling. Just lie back. Allow me to love you properly.” He began to lower himself so that he was on his knees, his face level with your thighs from where you were positioned on the bed. With adoring licks and kisses to your calves, he reached back up and began to wiggle your skirt down your hips; he gave an appreciative nip when you raised your ass to help him. Once he’d discarded the offending piece of clothing, he gently hooked his fingers in the sides of your underwear and pulled them down, down, around your thighs, then your knees, and off your ankles.

Loki nudged your legs further apart so that he could situate himself between them. Had it been under different circumstances, he looked as though he could have been praying; praying to the goddess lying at his mercy, giving him the power and trust to do whatever he liked. Gold could have dripped down his features, run off his chin, and he could have been dressed in the finest silks to worship and give himself to the deity that moaned his name when he propped her knees up on his shoulders.

You could feel his slow, calculated breaths against your heat, and after a long while, nothing happened. You had just begun to think something was wrong when he learned forward and pressed his tongue flat against your folds. An indescribable surge of electricity ran through your veins, and you couldn’t help but arch your back off the bed.

“I apologize,” he murmured when he brought his tongue back in to taste what he had gathered, “I simply had to sit and admire the view beforehand.” He wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you in place - if anything, to tug you closer - as he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked like he was starving. Your moans were music to his ears and the jolts and bucks that came from your hips only encouraged him. He drank up your juices, spreading you even further for his tongue to prod at your soaking entrance.

You were a trembling mess above him on the bed as you gripped the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white and the fabric threatened to tear. This… you had never felt anything like this before. He was doing things to you, making you feel emotions you had never even fathomed before. You were sinking, floating, drowning, flying. He was your corruption and your salvation all at once, and you would pray like a sinner if you had to just to feel one more second of it.

Loki’s fingers dug into the skin of your legs as he slipped his tongue into your entrance, his nose nudging at your clit and eyes closed in a hazy bliss nothing could drag him out of. Your walls clenched desperately around him and he hummed, sending impossible vibrations through your veins and into the pleasurable part of your brain that screamed at you to hold onto this moment for as long as you could. You didn’t know when, what with your line of work, you would ever have the chance to do this again, if tomorrow would be your last day and your blood would spill. If that was to be so, as decided by the Time Keepers themselves, then by god would you enjoy this while it lasted.

“Oh, Loki,” you sobbed, feeling tears of pleasure and ecstasy poking at the corners of your eyes. “Please. Please, please…”

He withdrew his tongue just long enough to grin up at you, drunk on lust and passion and mischief all at once. “Don’t stop, pet,” he urged. “I do love to hear you beg.” Then, without warning, he stuck a pair of fingers into you, causing you to cry out and reach down to grab a fistful of his hair. He allowed you to pull and tug as he continued to slowly thrust his digits into your core, his lips reattaching themselves to the sensitive bundle of nerves just above it.

You were bound to snap from there. With what could have been akin to a yelp, your stomach clenched in a way you couldn’t remember it doing before and the heat between your legs became much hotter and wetter. Loki retracted his fingers and licked stripe after stripe up and through your folds, taking everything you had to give him and then some. And when he was done, he made sure you were looking before sticking his soaked fingers in his mouth and sucking off the spend he had collected there.

White spots of nothingness danced in your vision as you felt him climb up your body, still fully clothed himself, and brush the hair out of your face that had gotten in the way.

“Are you alright, my darling?” he asked, to which he was given a frantic shaking of the head. He smiled rather slyly, like he was the cat that had gotten the cream, and traced a knuckle along the surfaces of your face. It felt as if he were trying to memorize them, memorize you, and tuck you away safely for another time. He gave you a sweet kiss, one you were able to taste both yourself and the gentle, genuine tone in. “Good. Rest, then. I’ll be here when you wake.”

shoutout to @malewife-hansolo for giving me some inspo with their redefining smut challenge! thanks so much!!

[itsagrimm]

imperial Tech 6

also known as "there is no underwear in space"

CN talk of possible suicide, misgendering, murder, making something look like suicide, talk of mental health issues, soldier life in a fascist state, talk of death, smut but includes markers for sex repulsed readers to skip the passages, kissing, fingering, choking, tech is kind of kinky, reader gets lifted up

reader is described as able-bodied + with vagina & breasts

imperial Tech X they/them reader

Rampart was staring out of the window, his eyes unfocused on the sparse mountainous horizon of Ryloth.

“It appears I have underestimated your former squats’ abilities. How unfortunate.” The Admiral spoke.

Commander Tech, standing in perfect parade, kept silent by his free will for once. He had told Rampart several times about his former squad. He had warned the admiral in reports and briefings about the dangerously chaotic yet effective way the bad batch worked. He had seen on Bracca how his superior clearly miscalculated an imminent threat and paid the price for it.

Tech was fed up with Rampart.

But all he could do was to stand still and listen to Ramparts self-centred mumblings.

Tech rolled his eyes so hard he felt his glasses shift a little under his helmet.

There was a part of him, an inner voice that whispered him that Rampart was an admiral and he, Tech, just a good soldier that had to follow orders.

Even if they were stupid.

“The…” Rampart paused, searching for words. “…Bad Batch is truly remarkable. It would be beneficial for the Empire if they would join us. Would you agree?”

Tech considered the question.

As far as he was concerned the Empire in itself was of little importance to the question. It was the current rising power. For Tech a High Command was a High Command. And he had been made and moulded to rely on that.

But his brothers… They had thought differently. He longed for their presence, longed for the comfort of the family that understood him and accepted him for who he was. Tech wanted nothing more than to have them close again. His Brothers …and Y/N.

His mind shuttered. Y/N. His already surprisingly emotional thought pattern became completely derailed.

Y/N was not safe within the elite squad, too many curious eyes and active bugs listening in. Maybe, just maybe, his brothers could help this time instead of leaving him behind. He felt warm, thinking about serving with his brothers again, Y/N at his side – safe and secure. If they all were together, it would be fine.

Tech made a choice.

“Sir, requesting permission to hunt down clone force 99.”

XXXXXXXX

The small bunk room was packed with the elite squad members, pieces of disassembled weapons and discarded armour.

“That was fun. Have you seen their stupid clone faces? Empty little heads, only good to hold a blaster!” ES-03 laughed, still enjoying the memories of this morning’s mission and the capture of the traitorous clone troopers.

“Kriffin bucketheads”, ES-04 mumbled in agreement, a serious human woman with black hair.

ES-02 just nodded and kept cleaning his blaster.

ONCE looked at their hands. They were still shaking. The past hours were catching up on them, the adrenalin and tranquilisers not working anymore.

To hide the trembling fingers ONCE crossed their arms and starred at the holopad in their lab, unable to read anything but trying hard to pretend like it to buy time for their spiralling mind.

The kid and the Syndullas likely made it. But it wasn’t thanks to Y/N.

The senator was dead. That was definitely thanks to Y/N. Howzer was likely dead too if he hadn’t managed to use the blade, they secretly gave him to escape or…

Y/N stopped themselves from thinking too much about the other option of deadly self-mutilation for the kind man they had met just hours ago.

Nausea hit them.

“Hey, ONCE, you fine?” ES-04 looked at them with a curious expression. “You look white like a new armour plate.”

“I am just… Not fully recovered yet. Had to take some medicine and it kriffed me up.”

“More like our commander kriffed you up good and the morning after pill is kicking in.” ES-04 commented drily. “Never imagined commander googles to be so romantic. Fucking with a view up there on the canyon, a bit of good old killing and then carrying your bridal style to the next kriffing LAAT. When is the wedding?”

ONCE rolled their eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

ES-04 chuckled darkly.

“I am just teasing. It was a good kriffing kill shot at the senator.”

ONCE narrowed their eyes, not sure if ES-04 was actually teasing or not.

“Thanks.” They finally replied.

The squad felt silent again.

Y/N felt alone among them. No one to talk to. No one to have their back. The crammed room was small and stuffy. But they felt like a hurt little animal on display on a wide field, alone and easy pray for predators.

“ONCE.” ES-03 had finished working on the blasters and looked at them now. “Did you lose your knife?”

XXXXXXX

It was always the number 3. Tech noticed a pattern. The elite solider ES-03 was sitting on the other side of his desk and worked diligently to end up like his predecessors.

“Commander. As I already mentioned in my comm message, I wanted to talk about the worrisome performance of my fellow squat mate.”

Tech fixed his glasses and leant back. He considered his options, intuition told him to be cautious.

“Sure trooper, you mentioned it. Would you mind passing me your helmet?”

ES-03 did as he was told. Tech took the bucket and locked it together with his own in a weapons cache, thick enough to prevent any imperial eavesdropping.

“You want this off the record commander?” ES-03 required.

“It would be beneficial to your record not to be known as going behind backs and share personal information.”

“Commander, … Do you really think about it that way?”

Tech smiled innocently. “That depends on the information.”

“Right.”

ES-03 looked at the ceiling, collecting his words and playing around with his hands. An annoying habit.

“It’s about ES-01. I think she’s betrayed the empire.”

Tech twitched.

“They betrayed the empire.” He corrected internally.

“Oh really? Do tell.” He said out loud, a well-rehearsed surprised expression on his face.

ES-03 nodded seriously, sure of his commander’s attention now.

“Captain Howzer has escaped. And looking at the surveilliance data he used a vibro blade, EXONcore type.”

“The elite squat standard equipment.” Tech added. He knew he had to show some interest to give the soldier before him some sense of security and have him talking.

“Yes exactly.” ES-03 looked pleased with himself, unaware of the rope tightening around his throat. Even Wrecker was more careful when talking.

“What is the connection between this blade and your teammate ES-01?”

ES-03 paused smugly. Little soldier felt so smart. Something in Tech was nearly entertained by that.

“It’s her blade! She lost hers. The others have it on them and there are no other knifes like it on base. I checked.”

“I see. Very good. And following the protocol you came straight to me?”

“Yes of course. You are my co. Protocol clearly states to only talk about treason with commandeering officers.”

And the idiot was the only one knowing. Good.

XXXXXXXX

A dark twisted part of Tech was highly amused. Another was worried.

He was nearly holding back a laugh when he gave ES-03 back his helmet. His eyes gleamed with delight when he praised the elite soldier for being so intelligent and upstanding. He chuckled when ES-03 left the office. Again, a number three.

Then Tech became serious again. This soldier was a danger to Y/N. He had to go. Fast and inconspicuous. ES-03 being annoying and rude only added to Tech’s determination.

He looked at his chrono.

It was late, only patrols out now.

ES-03 would need 36 seconds to walk down the corridor before turning right into the next long corridor leading to the bunk room.

34.

35.

36.

37.

Tech opened his door and quietly tailed after his prey.

The corridor was empty. Of course. He knew the patrol routes by hard.

His steps did not make a sound when stepping from one camera blind spot to another.

It was almost too easy.

The second corridor passed the grand room with the balcony, leading outdoors. It had been used by the Syndullas and Rampart to make their grand speech to the Twi’lek population a few days ago.

Tech could see ES-03 walk casually down there and past the door leading to the balcony. He checked his build in measuring program in his glasses and calculated his next steps. His HUD was usually better for this, but Tech had left the helmet back in the office.

Tech stopped breathing and commenced the most delicate part of his task.

He stalked down the long corridor until right behind ES-03.

The so-called elite soldier only noticed when Tech brought himself down on him like a bird of prey on the hunt. With practiced hands Tech hit his opponent right between armour and helmet, breaking his neck and catching the limp body.

No sound had been made. Only one last surprised puff by the third ES-03 Tech had killed.

Tech, the limp corpse in his arms moved into the shadows and waited. According to his chrono the next patrol was to pass any second.

They did.

Tech waited patiently. It’s not like ES-03 could run away from him anymore. Carefully, he moved the body while trying to make as little sound as possible. Unerringly the commander walked backwards until he reached the door to the balcony room. With ES-03 still warm hand he opened the bio scanner operated door.

He checked the room – empty as expected.

Now, he moved forward with ES-03 bucket facing towards the balcony before stopping at the handrail. Tech checked his chrono to time his action, aiming to have most patrol facing away from balcony for his last action.

3.

2.

1.

Go.

Tech moved the body his arms up, dipped it forward and let go. Like the lifeless object it was, the body fell down several floors before coming up on the ground. The impact destroying all evidence of the previously broken neck and smashing the helmet to pieces.

Finally, Tech chuckled darkly before leaving the room quietly. No one was going to harm his Y/N for now. He had made sure of that.

XXXXXXXX

Y/N stared at the ceiling of the bunk room. It was late. All of the squat except number 3 wandering around somewhere were already sleeping. They should too but they were too agitated to find rest, the bunk too uncomfortable and the racing thoughts too loud.

ONCE sat up.

This was pointless.

Instead of feeling sorry for themselves and their miserable life situation in this forsaken Empire ONCE could do something.

It was time to start taking control again and not be a token on a strategist planning board somewhere on Coruscant. They were a capable bounty hunter after all, a survivalist since childhood. This was not going to be their end.

They got up, put on their boots & blacks and left the bunk room for some fresh air.

XXXXXXXX

Ryloth at night was cold. During daytime the planets surface heated up fast, making Ryloth a dusty and dry rock. But at night the planet cooled down quickly, and rapid winds made ONCE hug their body for a bit of warmth. No wonder most Twi’lek lived underground

Maybe staying indoors and checking on commander Tech was a better idea than standing in the unfamiliar and unpleasant weather without their armour.

ONCE started walking.

They checked the hangar bay if Tech was working on the ship again, but he wasn’t there. Carefully they avoided the patrols on the long corridors to the commander’s office. Being outside the bunk without their armour and the build in listening device was against protocol. They would be in trouble when someone caught them without it.

Shit, the commander wouldn’t approve either.

ONCE contemplated returning to the bunk room for the armour. But before they could decide, someone grabbed them from behind, placed their hand over their mouth and carried them into one of the adjacent rooms.

ONCE started struggling against their unknown attacker, muffled angry noises against the hand that kept their mouth shut and their jaw locked. Kriff, they couldn’t even bite.

In the office the attacker let go.

ONCE jumped away, turned, and readied themselves for combat.

It was commander Tech.

“Why? What was that?” ONCE wanted to know.

“Do you really think you are in the position to demand answers from your commander?” Tech replied snappy. “I could ask you the same. What are you doing here in the night without your gear?”

“I was just taking a walk, couldn’t sleep. Where is your helmet? What were you up to?”

He looked at them, calculating and intense but not unpleasant.

His expression softened.

“This is my office.” He spoke. “If you can’t sleep, you are welcome to stay here. My helmet is locked away so you are in no danger to be listened in.”

Once nodded and relaxed. “thank you.”

The commander’s office on was a small room. Yet, it felt nearly empty with only a desk and a chair inside of it. None of the typical work projects or tools laying around.

He motioned them to sit on the chair while leaning against the desk.

They took a seat.

“Let’s talk, Y/N.” Tech said.

Tech had used their name again. It sounded pleasant. But the tone suggested something else.

“You considered insubordination.” It was not an accusing tone, more a neutral statement of a man very much in control.

“I…”

“I know you did. Out there in the court with Howzer.”

Y/N stayed silent and looked down.

“Hey, look at me.” Tech placed two fingers below their chin, forcing them to look up again. “I cannot allow you to endanger yourself like that again. Do you understand?”

He was so close, his tall frame towering dark above them.

“Yes, sir.” They whispered.

“You know what they would have done to you?”

“They would have court martialled me.”

Tech rolled his eyes. “If you were lucky. I am calculating 83.57% chance of you just getting executed and buried somewhere at the back of the base. Is that worth it to you?”

Was he worried about Y/N? Did he care?

He leant back and crossed his arms, looking away. “I need you to stay close to me. You are starting to make serious mistakes. Mistakes that will kill you.”

Y/N bit their lips, considering their next words carefully before speaking.

“What kind of mistakes, commander?”

He looked at them

“ES-03 was on your tail due to the knife you gave Howzer. The captain managed to break free because of it.”

“Good.” No need to pretend anymore so why not indulge in a bit of verbal triumph. “Wait, ES-03 was on my tail?”

Tech swallowed. “Indeed. He was. But not anymore.”

ONCE could nothing but stare at Tech.

“What did you do?” They required flatly.

“I think I have expressed myself sufficiently for you to understand.”

They blinked

None of them spoke.

Tech had killed a team-mate for ONCE. Again.

ONCE did not know what to do, say or even feel about that. It was bad but it was Tech so it also felt kind of good?

“I am sorry Y/N.” Tech finally broke the silence. He looked tired and apologetic. “I shouldn’t have told you. I am not sorry for killing him. But I should not have burdened you with knowledge about that. I do not expect you to react to that in any way.”

ONCE, finally able to formulate a coherent sentence in their mind, spoke. “Why?”

“Because he was a treat to you.”

“No, I mean why did you care?”

Tech looked at them - amusement, shame, nervousness and finally determination crossing his face.

“Because I care about you. I thought it was obvious.”

ONCE closed their eyes. The memories of his hands on their body every time he had moved them out of harms way. His armoured body pressed against them. His soft eyes gazing now over them in patient expectation. His admonitions to be careful and his … radical commitment to keep ONCE safe whatever the cost. How could they not see that? Why did they ever question if he cared about ONCE?

“You kill count for your own subordinates is horrendous but flattering.” They finally admitted and smiled. “Is this your way of being romantic?”

Tech adjusted his glasses.

“I understand you prefer a different kind of … love language?”

“Ordinary romance starts with something like a kiss, holding hands, sharing sweet memories, or making new one’s together before committing homicide for each other.”

“Would you like that?”

ONCE smiled even wider. “Very much so.”

He fixed his eyes on ONCE and looked at them.

“Maker, you are beautiful.” He finally said and stretched out his hand to gently touch their cheek. “I thought so much about you that I am utterly lost in you now. My mind-”

ONCE nestled into his hand, stretching out their own to touch Tech at his waist. He took it and drew them up from the chair to him instead. His lips crashed into theirs.

(-> note for sex repulsed readers. Skip the next part and only read the last paragraph)

“Y/N. You have not the hint of an idea what you do to me.” he whispered before biting their lip. His hands were around their waist and neck, gripping them possessively. ONCE reached up and cupped his face and combed through his hair. They were the only parts of Tech not in armour and ONCE longed to feel him as much as they could.

They moaned.

Tech retreated.

Surprised ONCE looked at him, stared back with regret in his eyes.

“I am sorry. We are too loud. This is dangerous. Someone could hear us.” He explained.

Disappointment washed down ONCE body, cold but not cold enough to quench the lust in their ragingly hot body.

“I can be quieter. I want this.”

Tech considered.

“I don’t really want you to be quiet for me.” He admitted cheekily. “Would you like to try something?”

ONCE nodded.

Tech moved closer again and pulled them into his arms.

They hummed approvingly. For a moment they just stood there, intertwined and content.

Then Tech moved. His hand trailed from their hips up to their waist, their chest, their collarbone and finally their throat. With long strong fingers he tapped where ONCE larynx was.

“Do you feel that?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you mind me touching there?”

“No, I like it.”

Tech’s eyes gleamed.

“Would you like me to press you more when you get too loud?”

ONCE leaned into the commander and whispered. “I trust you to be careful. I would like to be choked by you.”

He shivered.

His fingers tightened slightly around ONCE neck, enough to stifle another moan.

“Tell or tap me if I am too rough.”

“Uh-hu.”

They kissed. Tech was careful at first, unsure yet of how much he could choke them before ONCE gasped for air but figuring it out quickly and becoming more demanding.

His other hand wandered down their back and lifting ONCE on the desk.

“There is something in the way.” He purred while playfully dragging at their blacks.

“I think so too.” They responded with a husky voice, knocking against his armour.

“Change that.” He said it softly but formulated it like an order. Heat blossomed in ONCE lower body listening to his commandeering.

Slowly but practiced hands they started undressing the commander. Piece by piece they peeled off the upper body armour. Even with his blacks still on it was clear that he was muscular, lean, and wiry in frame. Their curious fingertips caressed his lithe body down towards his belt.

“Stop.” He ordered. “May I?”

ONCE nodded and he slowly took of their upper body blacks. His hands were rough and callous from the little scars on them. He traced up and grabbed one of their breasts, drawing little circles with his thumb and playing with their nipple. His other hand wandered up again and grabbed ONCE by their neck.

ONCE hummed approvingly and lifted their legs to pull Tech closer.

“I would love to bite you, dear. I don’t think I can, thought.”

Another stifled moan.

Techs soft eyes became hungry. His hand wandered down ONCE body and pulled at their leggings.

“I don’t think you need them right now.”

Instead of an answer ONCE just lifted their hips, helping the commander to fully undress them.

“My, you are beautiful dear Y/N.”

Somehow now ONCE blushed. Trying to turn their head to look away but Tech’s hand fully blocked any kind of movement.

His hand found its way to ONCE wet core, parting their lips and slowly probing their hot inside.

“More.” ONCE rasped. “I want more of your hand.”

Tech obliged and inserted another finger, slowly but steadily working them up and his thumb on their clitoris steadily working them towards sweet oblivion.

They felt their legs staring to tremble and lust building up. Another quashed moan. Tech leant forward, their foreheads touching now and his body stopping ONCE legs from closing. He inserted a third finger, edging them onward.

He nibbed at their shoulder, suppressing a moan himself and clenching his hand tightly around ONCE throat.

That was enough to push them over the edge, bright light flashing before their eyes and warmth flooded their body.

(-> note for sex repulsed readers. continue reading from here)

ONCE collapsed into Tech’s arms. He slowly cradled them, waiting for ONCE to come down from their high.

“Was that to your liking, dear?” he whispered, conscious about being as quiet as possible.

“Aye.”, ONCE replied and shivered. The sweat on their back started to cool and the office was a colder room anyway.

Tech hugged them tightly and caressed their back.

“You are getting cold. We should get you under the fresher and into some clothing. Hypothermia is a serious ailment.”

“What about you? Don’t you want to… come?”

Tech smiled grimly.

“Unlike you, my moans are not as sweet and soft as yours. But for now, I am content. And I do plan on hearing your muffled cries again if you’ll let me.”

PART 7

XXXXXXX

Would you like to be tagged in the next chapter or my general writings? write me a short message please.

XXXXXXX

@magisticly-wonderful @malewife-hansolo

[hardcasey]

Tangled Sheets

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Summary: A busy week working overtime have left both you and Fox tired and worn out, but not even exhaustion can keep you from one another.

Word Count: 1.6k 

Ratings/Warnings:  E, 18+ only!!!

Contains vaginal fingering and handjobs plus a whole bunch of domestic fluff ;)

A/N: I was yearning real hard for my favorite boy Fox and the need to write this suddenly possessed me. I was also inspired by @delusionsxfgrandeur’s Redefining Smut Challenge to try and write a sex scene without PiV penetration, which is a trope (is that the right word?) that is very easy to fall into when writing smut. I love the idea that couples can be intimate without needing to have penetrative sex, and wanted to explore one of the ways that could manifest in the context of a long term relationship. I’m happy with how it turned out and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You barely heard him come in over the sound of you brushing your teeth. There was a deep sigh as he settled down in a chair in the kitchen and started to meticulously remove each piece of armor, the familiar clacking of plastoid plates fitting together travelled down the short hall of your apartment. Any other time you would have finished what you were doing and gone to help him or even just watch, the way he stacked each armor plate together with practiced precision had become a nightly ritual you’d grown fond of. But you were exhausted, dead on your feet after working long shifts the entire week. You were surprised you hadn’t  collapsed on the bathroom floor already. 

Fox too had been working himself to death. He was a workaholic by nature but this week had been particularly hard and neither of you had been able to spare more than a few words or a quick kiss on your way to work. You missed him terribly and evidently he felt the same, if the way he wrapped you in a hug from behind as soon as he made his way into the bathroom was any indication. You leaned back into him as his hands found their way to your hips and he buried his face into your neck, his stubble scratching you slightly as he pressed a kiss there. The faint smell of coffee reached your nose and you smiled. You were never a big coffee person, but once the scent had come to be associated with him, you couldn’t get enough, to the point where you would sometimes stop by a coffee shop on your way to work just so you could be reminded of your beautiful Commander. 

“Missed you, mesh’la,” he murmured into your skin before pulling away enough to let you spit out the toothpaste. You caught a glance at him through the mirror over the sink, his eyes bleary with dark bags underneath. You didn’t want to know how little he had slept in the past week. 

“Missed you too,” you answered and you wished more than anything you could give him the warm welcome he deserved. The kind that involved rose petals on the bed and a sexy pair of lingerie. Maybe even a sensual massage with sweet smelling oils to soothe his aching muscles. Instead all he got was you, half asleep with a trail of toothpaste running down your chin. 

He didn’t seem to mind though as his thumb came up to wipe it away, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before rinsing it off and grabbing his own toothbrush (the red one you’d insisted on getting him because it matched his armor, despite it being a dollar more expensive than the rest). 

“You need to shave, babe,” you told him as you pulled your hair back so you could wash your face. 

“Tomorrow,” Fox grumbled around his toothbrush, and you understood completely. There were a lot of things you were putting off until tomorrow too. 

You swapped spots as the sink when he was done and he settled against one wall to watch you as you washed your face. The first time he did it you asked him why he didn’t just wait for you in bed, but he told you he just liked spending time with you, liked the intimacy of it. 

Once you were done, the two of you padded into your bedroom together, him settling on the bed while you peeled off your clothes and donned your PJs, which was just an old shirt of his with a faded Republic cog on the front. All of the clones were big - they were soldiers after all - but Fox was even larger, taking up more than half of the bed. You didn’t mind, though, you liked to hold onto him when you slept. He was like your own personal teddy bear, warm and solid and comforting after a long day. 

Fox lifted the covers up for you as you crawled in next to him, tucking yourself into his side and resting your head on his broad chest as you hitched one of your legs over his. One of his arms wrapped around you, bringing you closer and tucking you into him. The two of you laid in comfortable silence for a while, neither of you quite ready to fall asleep despite the sleep tugging at you. Your fingers ran along his chest and abdomen, tracing the hard muscle there. His hand travelled down your back before finding a home on the inside of your thigh and he began to trace lazy circles there, driving you crazy. 

You shifted your head to look up at him. “I wanna fuck you so bad, but I’m too tired.” There was nothing you wanted more than to ride him into oblivion right now, but your limbs felt heavy as lead. 

“Mmm. Me too… There’s always tomorrow, though.” 

You whined at that which made him chuckle, the vibrations travelled through his chest and into your cheek. You lowered your fingers to the edge of his waistband, teasing the sliver of skin there, running through the patch of dark, wiry hair that trailed down from his navel. He huffed at your antics as if he wasn’t doing the same thing, his hand inching closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. 

“Maybe we could just…” you trailed off as your hand dipped into his pants, seeking out his rapidly stiffening member. 

He let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan as your fingers wrapped around his shaft and started up a gentle rhythm. He was so hot and heavy in your hand as you worked him and you could feel a bead of precum leak out of the tip. You dragged your thumb up to collect it, teasing the slit as you did. That earned you a low groan from him, his abdomen spasming at the stimulation. Soon enough precum was dribbling out of his fully hard cock and you used it to coat your hand so your skin would glide easily against his. 

His fingers dug into the meat of your inner thigh as you traced a throbbing vein along the side of his member and it was either that or the snap of the elastic waist of his pants as you tugged them down past his balls that snapped him out of his stupor and reminded him of his goal. He hooked a thumb in your underwear and tugged them down, exposing your heated core to the cool air and making you gasp. One of his thick fingers traced your slit before dipping in to collect your wetness before making its way to circle your clit, his hand large enough to cup your whole pussy despite the somewhat awkward angle. You huffed into his chest and ground your hips against his palm, seeking any kind of friction he would give you. 

A warm, comforting kind of pleasure started building in your core, the kind that made your whole body feel like it was wrapped in a big, cozy blanket and the hand working his cock momentarily lost its rhythm as you surrendered to the feeling. Once you managed to collect yourself, you redoubled your efforts, adding a twist to the motion as your other hand came up to fondle his balls. 

By now his hips were thrusting up in time with each stroke and you heard a weak “K-kriff” that made you smile devilishly. He buried his head into your hair and kissed the top of your head, whispering to you about how perfect it felt and how close he was, not that he needed to tell you that. The way his thighs shook and his balls started to tighten told you everything you needed to know. A few more pumps and he reached his peak, burying his face further against you with a groan as his cock throbbed, hot cum spilling over your fingers and splattering onto his abdomen. 

Fox barely took a second to catch his breath before he was rolling you over onto your other side, his chest pressing against your back and his arms wrapping around your body. He slid one arm under your head to act as a pillow while his other hand found its way back to your pussy, two fingers pressing inside of you with his thumb pressed against your clit. He curled his fingers to reach that one spot that had you seeing stars, his pace slow yet insistent, methodically working you with the precision only a Marshal Commander could. You keened and arched your back as your climax swiftly approached and overtook you, your walls clamping down on his fingers and a gush of wetness coating his palm. 

Unlike him, it took you a while to come back to yourself, taking gasping breaths as you laid there in his embrace. Your clit pulsed with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you could feel sleep set into your limbs as your body succumbed to exhaustion. With the little strength you had, you turned your head just enough to capture his lips in yours. 

You finally let yourself fall asleep then, content in the knowledge your Commander would be there when you woke.

[bonkywobble]

You, Me & This Infallible In-Between - Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Summary: Taking your former high school bully under your wing isn’t what you thought you’d be doing for the next six months but nevertheless you’re prepared. As the principal lighthouse keeper you’re the one calling the shots now. This time around, it’s his experience that is now in your hands.

Ten years was enough to change you, but it was also more than enough to change the man standing in front of you, the one with this familiar, faraway look in his eyes - like the ocean isn’t vast enough to protect him from being haunted here, too.

He’s not sure how it happens, but James Buchanan Barnes quickly finds you becoming his light in the dark.

Or the one where Bucky begins the same journey of running and recovery that you took a decade ago while you both redefine the connection that you share.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (Modern AU)

Warnings: mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, discussions around nightmares/ptsd, discussions around open water, fluff, eventual smut. 18+ only. Minors do not interact.

A/N: For @starryevermore’s Welcome to Angst City™ challenge with the prompts: Oh My God, They Were Roommates! + Eighth Floor + Bucky Barnes. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

Series Playlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

[kirsty585-scottiegirl585]

Fanfiction Masterpost (All posted to A03)

Doctor Who (2005):

Echoes of Time: A Christmas Miracle

Pairing: River Song/Thirteenth Doctor

Multichapter - Complete 3/3

In a whirlwind of time-traveling adventures, the Doctor and her companions find themselves unexpectedly invited to a mysterious reunion. The TARDIS takes them to a familiar place with unforeseen consequences, forcing the Doctor to confront ghosts from her past. Will the Doctor navigate the complexities of time, friendship, and love, or will the reunion lead to a cascade of unforeseen challenges?

Doctor Who (Big Finish Productions):

Best Laid Plans

Pairing: Liv Chenka/Helen Sinclair

One shot - Complete

Helen gets fed up waiting for Liv to make a move and decides to take matters into her own hands.

Featuring: A healthy dose of smut, Helen being bold as fuck, Liv being both a stuttering idiot and a confident top, feelings peppered throughout.

TW: Smut (involves strap ons), Some internalised homophobia - time period specific

Motherland Fort Salem:

Brick by Brick

Pairing: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn

One shot - Complete

Trauma is a funny thing. Experiences that we go through shape us into the people that we become.

Scylla Ramshorn is no different, over the years she had experienced trauma after trauma and has learnt how to protect herself from anymore hurt.

A backstory/character study to explain how Scylla became who she is.

TW: Sexual Assault, Parent Death in Detail

Open Roads and New Beginnings

Pairing: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn, Adil/Abigail Bellweather, Tally Craven & Scylla Ramshorn

One shot - Complete (may turn into multichapter)

While on the bus escaping the army, Tally and Scylla have a conversation.

Includes: Scylla being a lovestruck idiot, Tally being adorable, sleepy Raelle and 'hangry' Abigail.

Supergirl:

Beneath The Surface

Pairing: Alex Danvers/Lena Luthor

Multichapter - In Progress 10/17

In the wake of a harrowing ordeal that leaves her forcibly augmented, Alex Danvers grapples with her new reality and the profound changes within herself. As she navigates this uncharted territory, a looming threat casts a shadow over her journey, challenging her to redefine what it means to be a hero. With Kara and Lena by her side, Alex must confront not only the external forces that seek to exploit her newfound abilities but also the internal struggle of accepting who she has become. Together, they embark on a perilous quest to thwart a sinister plot that threatens their bond and the very fabric of their world.

Lunch Break

Pairing: Lena Luthor/Reader

One shot - Complete

The reader surprises Lena on her lunch break. Cue cuteness, fluffy and a bit of making out.

Dark Thoughts

Pairing: Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer

One shot - Complete

Maggie's knows she's not good enough for anybody, certainly not Alex. Why does she always hurt the people who care about her.

Or why Maggie rejected Alex.

Legends of Tomorrow:

Date Nights Interruptus

Pairing: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe

Multichapter

Sara and Ava keep trying to have date nights but unfortunately for them their 'children' keep interrupting them.

TW: Smut (Various types)

Wynonna Earp:

The Past Comes Back to Bite You

Pairing: Nicole Haught/Waverly Earp

Multichapter - Still in progress

What happens when Nicole's past catches up with her? Bulshars cult kidnap Waverly. Will the group manage to rescue her?

Snowpiercer:

Girls Night

Pairing: Miss Audrey/Bess Till, Alexandra Cavill/Carly Roche mentioned

One shot - Complete

Girls night takes an interesting turn during an innocent drinking game. Or in other words, everybody loves Till.

[electricbluebutterflies]

control

“Want isn’t the problem”

Post-s2-grayspace Kabby smut with feelings, aka I haven’t written them since certain things happened and I still have a LOT of feelings. Blame @to-hell-with-oblivion for where this ended up. Also on ao3.

He's being too nice and it's a damn problem.

Abby Griffin likes routines. Even in light of the past few months, even with so much changed around her, she has tried her hardest to maintain them. Unfortunately, it turns out quite a few of her routines rely on a particular someone else's tendency to be a complete asshole at all possible times, and lately, well…

Lately, Marcus has skipped right past the "basic human decency" stage that was once her wildest hope for him and instead started going out of his way for her. For a week or so, she let it go. Trauma makes people do strange things, and the Bad Thing was certainly within that range for both of them. But then she was able to move comfortably on her own and he was still gentle, and for the past few weeks since then their dynamic has been off.

By unspoken decision, they're co-leaders as things attempt to settle down. In theory, it's no different from the routine they had for years up in the sky. Except it is, because there's no sparring. No passive-aggressive death threats, no unsaid fuck-yous, none of the sharp details that made their dynamic the only thing keeping her sane that last year in particular when it became the only real thing she had. Can she admit that, now that they're changing? Is she allowed to say that he became her release valve, that she sought him out a few times because yelling at him about things that probably didn't matter in the grand scheme of things was a reminder that she was somehow still alive?

She doesn't know. She's not sure how much she cares.

What she is sure of is that where they are now is inexplicably different in ways that cannot be blamed on their respective recent injuries. That may have been how this workspace thing happened - neither of them could move well for two weeks after the Bad Thing, hers was objectively worse but he'd walked miles both ways on a bad leg - but they still drift together without that  concern. It makes sense, as they redefine systems, to be in the same place for all the tiny but necessary decisions that land on their shoulders.

The downside of this is, well, they're together. A lot. Which means she has to look at him and watch the slow changes of giving-up have their way, and she is appreciative of this physical transformation, and…

"You got that?"

Her big project for the day, apparently, is figuring out where to put a nice chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere this morning. Like most of their generation, Abby's aesthetic preferences begin and end with "does it work", but apparently working a new piece of furniture into the layout of a small enclosed space requires moving literally everything else in the room. Including a table that is perfectly within her abilities to maneuver, even with the piles of papers currently upon it.

She could, in theory, accept that this would all be a hell of a lot easier if Marcus helped her. She's not actually sure how long he's been standing there watching her efforts, and… it's weird, this asking for permission. Six months ago, had they somehow ended up in this sort of a situation, he would've stepped right in and arranged everything to his own preferences and not even spoken to her until it was all over with.

Is it wrong that she misses that side of him? Is it wrong if she wonders how long this current gentleness will last?

She could accept his help. Or she could push and see if she can find his limits. She decides she likes option two a lot better.

"Yeah," she mutters, almost growling. "I've got this."

And sure enough, with appropriate physical effort that she is more than capable of thank you very much, Abby shifts the position of the table so it's a little more in the center of the space. The goal, she's decided, is to eventually get this not-quite-armchair into that newly vacant corner. But for that to work, she has to move the couch. Dammit.

Frankly, Abby is not sure how someone else got that couch through that door during the few days she was immobile and catching up on two decades of bad sleep. She's assuming that's when it happened, because if she'd been lucid and present she would remember something that ridiculous. It got nested in that corner over there, and she's not inclined to move it, except… that would be the easiest way to make all of her other plans work. Temporarily move couch, place chair, put couch back where it started.

Ah. Yes. Maneuvering something of questionable structural integrity, which is big enough that she's taken a few naps on the damn thing. Twice. Yeah.

Screw it. Time to see how well Marcus can handle her in full fire.

She turns her head and yep, he's still standing by the doorway with that obnoxious amused look on his face like this is the best thing he's see all week - and it probably is for reasons that have nothing to do with her shirts riding up - and she can't deal with this man right now. He is too much, and she's gonna tear all of that down and remind herself that she used to get wet thinking about his hypothetical death.

And shit, now she's thinking about that. No, bad, do not want.

"Now you can help," she hisses, making sharp eye contact. "But if you try anything…"

"What are you implying?" he counters, taking a place at the more accessible end of the couch. This, she gets. She's quite a bit smaller, slightly more capable of slipping into a small space between couch and wall and lamp.

It hits her, as she does so, that there are a lot of things that could happen with this kind of energy and some of those could be much more fun than others. But she can't fixate on that. She won't. She can't.

"You've let me rearrange every goddamn thing in this space without so much as a 'leave those papers there'," she replies. "I know you. What do you want?"

"Maybe my ability to do my job doesn't rely on the specific placement of objects within our space. You didn't take anything out. The rest is detail."

Abby rolls her eyes. "I have known you since we were children, Kane. You are obsessed with detail."

"People change."

"You never have."

"Can we just move the damn couch where you want it?"

"Take four steps back. There. Yes."

The weight is imbalanced, she sees it as they move together. He's stronger than her, she knows that, but he's doing more than he has to because that's just what he does. Because god forbid she ever be capable of anything, god forbid he let her be all that she is, god forbid-

"Alright. Now you can try to pick a fight."

Yeah. There's a breaking point in there somewhere, and she's gonna find it if it's the last thing she does. They've known each other way too long for her to believe this is real.

"Or you could just tell me what you're trying to get out of me," she counters, hand on her hip and perfect do-what-I-want face that has gotten results out of everyone else she has ever tried it on. Despite the rest of her look, Abby has learned how to be absolutely terrifying when she needs to be, and it works. Except on him. Never on him. Dammit.

"Does everything I do have to have an ulterior motivation?"

"I know you too well. Has there ever not been?"

"Maybe I just want to help you."

"There are multiple words in that sentence I'm not sure you even know."

"How are you the only person who doesn't believe I'm changing?"

"Because I'm the only person left alive who knows you're not capable of it."

This, she is well aware, is a conscious and intentional lie. For years on end, she hoped for this kind of transformation. There was a long stretch of time when she tried so hard to see some kind of light in him, this man who seemed to exist for no other purpose than to challenge and undo her. Even at their worst, she had hope for him. But now that she's gotten what she wanted, it's different. A reality she never prepared for and refuses to trust. Because she knows him, and she knows what darkness he's capable of, and she knows-

"You made this happen," he breathes, and this may be that breaking point and oh how she did not expect it like this. "I almost lost you, and I… I cannot let that happen. I need to be better so I can keep you safe."

A different woman would accept the awkward confession, maybe kiss him or something, feel all warm and sweet about it. Abby is still burning, and she's not ready to sheath her claws just yet.

"You tried to fucking kill me," she hisses. "You would've tried again down here, and maybe even done it, but you needed me too much so you did the closest thing and had me electrocuted while you watched and you didn't even flinch. You do not get to say you love me."

Marcus takes a few steps closer - clearly the death wish she's started seeing in him isn't going anywhere. He's close enough she could hit him if she were so inclined, and she's halfway tempted, and she wants, and-

"I know. I don't expect… this is because of you. Not for you, if you don't want it."

There is pain in his eyes, spreading across his body, and here is that moment of regret that she's always dreamed of. They haven't really talked about certain events before, always brushed past and moved onto the next crisis because neither of them knows how to be vulnerable with another human being, but here they are two feet apart in a small room behind a closed and probably locked door and here they are and-

"Want isn't the problem," she mutters, and then she kisses him.

She's not sure what she's doing, in that half-second she tastes his shock. This here, all of it is an experience Abby never prepared for. Only the second person she's ever kissed, and she loved the last one for twenty years and meant for a lot longer before tragic fate had its way. She has never thought of casual encounters for herself - never judged those who did, but kept her own preferences on the subject. She knows, in that half-second, that there is no coming back from what she's doing right now.

Then it sinks in, and he moves, and she is reminded of why they have been like magnets for so long.

Marcus has never done anything halfway, and apparently this applies to physical involvement as well. He kisses hard, biting her lip as his hands tangle up in her hair, and the difference in size between them feels like nothing at all. She'll hurt from this, they both will, she does not care.

"Tell me if I go too far," he breathes against her lips when they break for air.

"I don't think you ever could," she counters.

"Still. As you said. I've hurt you before."

"Don't leave bruises anywhere my clothes don't cover. Otherwise…"

She likes kissing him, she decides as they continue. She likes running her tongue over his skin, the feeling of his scruff against her, the sharp contrast against her past experience. (She cannot fault herself for this comparison. Only her second lover, or he will be before this is over, and she will allow herself this innocence.) He has become new and made whole this past month. Perhaps it's her turn.

"May I?" he asks, pausing with hands at the hem of her shirts.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

She raises her arms to make the removal easier, not sure what she expects him to do once the fabric falls to the floor. Not sure, but surprised when his fingers trace patterns on her hips and slowly climb. An exploration, mapping her, learning details she herself is too familiar with to note. Hesitant on the small of her back, hesitant as he ghosts over the scars he helped inflict. A month and a half after the incident, they don't hurt anymore, but they are still visible and stubborn and-

"You're strong," he breathes, a certain reverence as he kisses her forehead.

"You knew that long before you hurt me."

He nods and continues, working his way up her body until he reaches the clasp of her bra. No permission asked as he undoes the clasp and slips it off her shoulders, no hesitation as he presses his lips to the hollow between her breasts and she flinches because scruff against sensitive skin is new and foreign. Yet not unwanted, she thinks as he traces patterns and switches between hands and mouth without warning. Were he to rest his head between her legs for a while, she could accept it. But she doubts they'll go there today. Exploration and examination is a safe enough set of acts; thorough ravishing is more dangerous, to be saved for a quieter day and a mattress.

"Your turn," she murmurs after a while, pushing him back and slipping her hands up his shirt.

She's seen more of his skin over the years, roles as they were, and little of this is new to her. He has less scars than she does; she fears, as she traces the badly healed line on his forearm from a day he won't talk about, that this will soon change. Someday, and she hopes she gets to see it, he will be a map of deaths that didn't stick. For now, though, he is relatively untainted and completely still before her, allowing her hands to wander. Allowing her to step closer for a moment and rest her head on her shoulder, as she did a month ago when all she could fixate on was her pain and the person who caught her, as she did several days before that beneath a destroyed building. Different, skin-on-skin, but the same.

He could anchor her, if she let him. She wants to see what that could look like.

She undoes his pants because she can, because her hands are on his hips and she wants him. There's some maneuvering to be done, kicking off boots and creative balance, and then he is exposed and still not fighting her. Not lifting her up and fucking her against the wall, not testing her limits. Allowing her fire to have its way.

"You can…" she starts before realizing she doesn't know what permission she wants to give him.

"You want control, Abby," he murmurs. "You need control."

Next time, if there is a next time, will be different. Next time, she suspects, she will learn what their sparring is like without barriers. But here and now, she will take this proof of his changes. Her hands start on his inner thighs, working up. No scars to be found here either, only skin that responds so well to her cautious touch. He wants her. He is willing to let her choose how that happens. She is adrift. She could spiral. She could-

"You have control," he says again as he steadies her. How long has it been since another person has held her? How long since she's been pulled against someone's chest and told that she will be alright? Longer than she wants to admit, and-

"I never knew you could stand that still," she laughs.

"You're good motivation."

"Who the fuck are you and what did you do with my lifelong nemesis." She rolls her eyes, kisses his neck, breathes. Maybe fire isn't all they are. Maybe…

"I might be in shock."

"Me too."

And there's a warmth to it, as she takes a half-step back and sheds her own pants because she doesn't trust him not to damage her best pair of underwear. There's a warmth in how he looks at her, and it is not the first time either. Weeks ago now, when they were the first actual adults of their people to see sunlight in a hundred years. She should've seen it then, this transformation that is in full force now. But at least she has now, accepting the reality of their changes as she braces for a lifelong inevitability.

It's real. All of this is real. And she's never wanted anything more.

His hands put just a little too much pressure on her hips as he twirls her around and half-pushes her onto the couch. Out of their options, that's the obvious best spot for this - not ideal, god no, but it'll do. He kisses her again to be thorough, kisses her as she maneuvers her body for best access, kisses her as he positions himself, and then he drops.

This is her moment of shock, that heartbeat as they collide. Her body responding, circumstances enough to prepare her, overwhelmed as they become one. How often she wondered about this, and reality is so different and so much more beautiful.

"I don't-"

"You talk too much," she mutters, kissing him to shut him up.

She could love him, maybe. Given time to watch what else this transformation brings, she could get attached so easily. Marcus has always struck her as someone with a lot of raw potential, more than most people are given, and perhaps this here is the wrong time to realize he's starting to do something with it but oh, he is and fucking her on this godawful couch is likely just the start of what he will become.

Wherever that leads, whatever choices he makes, she will stand by his side. She makes that decision with eyes closed, pressure building and then breaking, the sweet giving-up of being loved. She is so, so good at being the loyal woman. She will make those choices again, and this time she will stay enough. There is no other fate.

He finishes and collapses above her, shifting weight as best he can but still more skin-on-skin than she wants, and they stay there and recover for a few moments.

"So that happened," she breathes.

"It doesn't have to change anything, Abby. You can go back to hating me once you get dressed."

"What if I don't want to hate you?"

He's quiet for a few heartbeats, quiet in a different way as he shifts off of her and sits down beside her.

"That would be a bigger surprise than anything else I've seen down here," he finally says. "And a better one."

"I'm not saying… I don't know how to move forward with another person, but… I believe you now."

"I can accept that."

She gets to her feet and starts getting dressed, unsurprised when he is right there for her to lean on as she needs. Their dynamic will change again after this, but perhaps they were headed that way all along. Now sooner than planned, but still just as good.

"So what's the next part of this redecorating scheme?" he asks once they're both decent again.

"I am not decorating," she laughs. "Just moving furniture. There's a difference."

"If you say so."

"If you tried that line at any other time…" she sighs. "Alright. So. Chair goes in empty space, couch goes back where it was, we do not talk about what just happened until I have time to process that it did. Good?"

"So this means I can't kiss you in front of everyone we know?"

"Not if you like being alive."

He takes the hint, shuts up, and moves the damn chair without further stupid questions.

He's gotten nice lately, and it is the exact opposite of a problem.

[thefugitivemango]

69, 911 and 3844 XD

69: What is your opinion on smut?

If done right, smut can be a powerful, creative, story-driving tool. Showcasing passion between characters can be challenging. Sometimes, a glimpse into how characters broach intimacies tells more about them than straight narration ever could. Just as describing how people smile, or exhibit body language, there’s an innate understanding in the passions expressed through eroticism. The problem with smut is like the problem with alcohol; both can be intoxicating, and when used needlessly and excessively it detracts from the enjoyment rather than accentuates or enhances it.

911: What is the worst thing that you’ve ever done to a muse?

I can’t think of ONE thing I’ve done to one of my characters that was definitively the worst. Most of the hardships my characters face are an accumulation of problems, all cascading down on them at once. A recent example is everything happening to Argonas. Nothing’s going his way. He’s already low, then another blow lands straight to the gut. This kind of “abuse” is, in my opinion, character-redefining. More than one big traumatic event, it’s the build up of little things that truly shapes characters.

If I had to pick just one event, I suppose that’d be Gattius and his relationship/dealings with his father Tharinel. Specifically, the time his father kidnapped Syrielle in order to steal their baby. That’s probably the worst single thing, and it wasn’t even directly done to Gattius... xD

3844: What do you do when you get writer’s block?

I’ll read someone else’s work. Not to be all “haha steal their ideas” but to sort of rekindle my creativity with theirs. Like lighting a candle with another candle! Some of my favorite people’s writings to read are @sylaess, @cosmic-gemstone, @archmage-stillwater, and of course, @kidcatgemini. If THAT doesn’t work, I usually just talk to friends, bounce ideas off of them. Or wait a bit, doing other things, then coming back fresh! Writer’s block is a pain, but reaching out for creative inspiration is generally the best cure!

[roxy-davenport]

Don’t Fear the Reaper

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,765 (With lyrics to both songs)

A/N: I have written one other angst story. Angst is not a headspace I like to go to, to read or write. But sometimes life calls for a little angst. I hope you guys like it. Major character death, you know whose right off the bat. ANGST, depression, suicidal thoughts, reckless behavior, guilt. It’ll pull on your heartstrings. The rest of the stories I have planned for January and February are all smut and fluff. This was written for @too-much-winchester Kat’s Playlist Challenge with the song, (Don’t Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult. This was also written for @mamaredd123 and @atc74 Mama and Angelina’s Fabulous 300 Challenge with the prompts, character death, the emotion broken and the song, “Dust in the Wind” by Kansas. This was also written for @nichelle-my-belle Nichelle’s 4K Challenge with the prompt, “Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.”

Also On AO3 

All our times have come

Here but now they're gone

Seasons don't fear the reaper

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are

 Come on baby, don't fear the reaper

Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper

We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper

Baby I'm your man.

 Blood so much blood. You were injured, too injured to survive. You tried to stop the blood but it just kept coming. You crouched down behind a tree slowing your breaths and trying to be as quite as possible. You held your weapon high waiting for the monster to find you. If you were going to die you sure as hell were going to take him with you. You heard loud footsteps coming your way. You saw a shadow appearing in front of you and you acted in a manner of seconds. The werewolf was dead. But then again so were you. You looked up at the moon. You closed your eyes feeling the cold air against your skin. You would miss this the most, just being in the world and looking up at the night sky. Your feet got heavy, your eyes were closing, too tired to stay awake. You had lost far too much blood. You slowly collapsed on the floor your eyes closing slowly. You whispered the one name that meant something to you, “Dean.”

 Valentine is done

Here but now they're gone

Romeo and Juliet

Are together in eternity, Romeo and Juliet

40, 000 men and women everyday, Like Romeo and Juliet

40, 000 men and women everyday, Redefine happiness

Another 40, 000 coming everyday, We can be like they are.

 When you woke up you felt weightless. Looking down you saw your body down on the ground. You were hovering over it. You felt a strong presence in front of you, your eyes scanning the tall figure in front of you. The tall figure with green eyes. The very same shade of green Dean Winchester had.

 “Dean?” You whispered softly

 “Y/N?” Dean growled.

 Come on baby, don't fear the reaper

Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper

We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper

Baby I'm your man.

 Before you could get your bearings you found yourself on a bench in a park. You looked around at your surroundings.

 Love of two is one

Here but now they're gone

Came the last night of sadness

And it was clear she couldn't go on

 “They can’t see you,” Dean said in a strangely detached voice. He wasn’t looking at you.”

 “Dean?” No response. “Dean, please look at me.”

 Dean slowly turned his face towards you, his eyes watery. A few tears streaking down his cheek. You looked at him slowly, your hand wiping the tears away. Dean took your hand and kissed it.

 After a bit of silence spent with the two of you gazing into each other’s eyes, you spoke softly to him. “You’re a reaper now?”

 “Death thought I needed to learn a lesson. It seems me and Sammy keep on ruining the grand design. I am supposed to learn how important and difficult this job can be and stop messing with what should happen.”

 “And he asks you to reap me?”

 “Basically.”

 “Wow…that douche.”

 Dean laughs a mirthless laugh.

 “Why were you hunting?” it came out like an accusation. Dean was angry and hurt but he meant to ask you the question with a lot less tone.

 You knew Dean would be mad and want an explanation. His tone was sadly what you expected. “Straight to the tough questions. OK. Dean let me say my piece. I know you; you interject and make huffs, sighs and grunts. No comments until I’ve said what I have to say.”

 Dean grumbles and huffs. You hold up your hands as if to say “told you so.” He rolls his eyes and nods for you to proceed.

 “Before you met me, I was a waitress in a Podunk town. You were a pretty face. We hooked up because … well, why wouldn’t we. Who could resist you? It was fun and easy but I guess you liked me and stayed too long, long enough for the monsters and demons that were on your ass to come find me. Then you had to protect me. I had questions like any sane person would and so you let me in. You could have made the choice then to let me go, to just leave me with question, but you didn’t. You literally dragged me along with you to the Bunker. I was kicking and screaming the whole way, wanting the safety of my old life. In the beginning, I fit in like a sore thumb, always edgy and scared. I desperately wanted to be ignorant again but it doesn’t work that way. You can’t un-know things. Ironically that was the best decision of my life.”

 You held up your hand when he started to grumble and open his mouth to say something.

 “I really got into it. I enjoyed hunting and that’s when you left. You left me, mind you with a note, but no chance to talk to you, to explain. I get you don’t do emotions and its easier to just shut out everything and keep moving. I was getting too close to your heart and too good at hunting. You said you wanted me safe. You were giving me an out. What you didn’t realize was that I love you and there was no way out. I never wanted one.”

 “So this is my fault?”

 “Wow, you are impressive. Not everything is about you. I know Winchesters have a great destiny but guess what? The world still turns when you don’t make a decision. This is no one’s fault. I am…was … a hunter. That was my choice. Had you stayed would we have worked it out and been together? Isn’t Death like the movie Final Destination? If you saved me from hunting alone then I would have died some other way and maybe we couldn’t be having this moment now. I’m not god, Dean. Death doesn’t give you clarity. It’s just death. I know you blame yourself for everything that happens. But don’t you dare blame my death on you. We just had bad timing and lousy luck.”

 Dean rubbed his face with his hand sighing deeply.

 “Why were you alone?”

 “It was supposed to be one werewolf not a couple! I got my intel wrong. Funny, really. I watched the house for a week and never saw the girlfriend ever even once. Everyone in town thought he was alone. Maybe it was fate?”

 “You thought there was one? How could you be so stupid? This is why I didn’t want you hunting?”

 “Wow, Dean. Just wow. We’re spending our last moments arguing? Damn it Dean! I didn’t want to die. I didn’t have a death wish. I just messed up. People mess up and that’s how hunters die. Spare me the righteous indignation. How many times have you died from a mess up? Or killed a friend because of it? Actually that’s sexist of you, Dean. You can fuck up but I can’t? Have to protect the weaker sex from hunting?”

 “Typical of us always fighting.”

 “You’re the pig-headed one, Dean.”

 Dean looked down at the ground.

 “Why did it have to be you? I love you.”

 “Who would you rather have it be? I love you, too, Dean.”

 Dean slowly looked up at you and saw you glow slightly. His eyes widened. He had reaped three other souls before you and none of them had glowed.

 “You’re glowing?”

 “So are you. Think that means we’re soul mates.”

 “I thought death didn’t give you insight.”

 “Damn it, Dean, stop fighting.”

 “No. No. I can’t. You’re my soul mate and you’re dead?” Why! How! How is that fair?”

 Dean stood up pacing the park. Your heart went out to him. As a ghost, emotions weren’t as strong. You hated seeing Dean like this and you knew that your job now was to comfort him before you moved on.

 “I’ll never be happy again. I mean, not really. Any other woman I try and build a life with won’t be “the one.” “The one” is dead. That’s it for my happiness. When I left you I was destroyed. Nothing felt the same. I was suicidal. Seriously. I would go half-cocked into hunts hoping to die to ease the pain but in my darkest hour I had hope. I had hope that you got out and had kids, had a happy life. You would have made a great mother. Damn it, why didn’t you get out?”

 “How could I go back to a normal life when I had the chance to save people? How could I be selfish like that, Dean? How could I place my happiness above someone else’s? On this hunt, I saved a little girl and her family. I died for a family, Dean. If I wasn’t there, they would be dead. I know you’re hurting and alone and I am sorry but I couldn’t stop. Had you been there or not, fate is fate. Please don’t be mad.”

 Dean closed his eyes as tears flowed freely down his face.

 “How can I go on?”

 “I don’t want to see you like this. You’re upset, broke, already dead. Please listen to me. I love you. I can’t erase what happened but I can ask that my death mean something. Life is short, Dean especially for hunters. Find someone to be with. Have the family I can never have, have kids. Promise me.”

 “No one else will compare-.”

 “It isn’t a contest Dean. We’re soul mates always will be. But you deserve to be happy. You are surrounded by so much death and pain. Please don’t let my death be added to all of that. You carry around so much pain and guilt. My death is on me not you. Find a way to be happy.”

 You held Dean in your arms as you both cried for all the missed time.

 “I shouldn’t have left.”

 “You’re here now. Dean I have to go. You know I have to go. Take me to heaven.”

 Dean felt like he was kicked in the gut. Not only had he watched you die helpless to save you but now he had to leave you. He didn’t want you to be a vengeful ghost. He knew he couldn’t keep you here but he had hoped you’d at least want to stay. You were being Zen about the whole thing while he was trying desperately not to scream and smash everything in sight. Dean closed his eyes trying to calm himself. You took his hand as he led you to a tunnel with light on the other side. Behind you was a dark shadow getting farther and farther away. Screams and shouts came from what you figured was hell. Dean walked with you through the light. It wasn’t blinding it was warm and comforting. It lit every facet of the world around you, no dark places, no sadness.

 Then the door was open and the wind appeared

The candles blew then disappeared

The curtains flew then he appeared, saying don't be afraid

 You burst into tears when you saw your heaven. This was one of the happiest moments of your life. You were with Dean on your favorite day. This was one of the few days he gave up hunting for the week and for a little while everything was perfect; you were a happy couple with not a care in the world. You wished every day was like these few days. Dean looked over and saw your face. He wanted to be happy for you that you were safe with a version of himself, but he couldn’t be.

 ‘Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.”

 “I am safe with the man I truly love. With you in a perfect memory. I am at peace. Dean please find a way to be at peace, too … for me.”

 You wanted to stay and comfort him but the Dean of your heaven was calling. And it wasn’t your job anymore to take care of him. So you moved away from Dean and ran into the memories of your past, happy in heaven.

 Come on baby, and she had no fear

And she ran to him, then they started to fly

They looked backward and said goodbye, she had become like they are

She had taken his hand, she had become like they are

Come on baby, don't fear the reaper.

 Dean ran out not remembering much else. He had a conversation with Death but he was going through the motions. He got black out drunk, lost chunks of time, forgot things constantly, and wasn’t paying attention to anything anyone said. He kept going on hunts, recklessly hoping he would die and see you again but every time he came out alive. He was consumed with sadness and nothing could help him. Sam tried to bring him out of his depression but any mention of you would get him so angry. On one occasion Sam had mentioned your name in passing and Dean broke the dining room table in the Bunker and had his brother by the throat, a furious rage in his eyes. Dean was hardly at the Bunker anymore deciding to hang out at the bar instead. He destroyed a table because someone tried to cut him off at the bar. Nothing meant anything anymore. Everything lost its reason. Dean stopped eating and just wanted to die. He would sit in Baby and listen to “Dust in the Wind” over and over again.

 The only thing that brought him out was the fact that he was hurting his little brother. They went on a hunt, Sam thinking that Dean would heal by hunting. It always worked for them in the past. But this was too big a wound to heal that quickly or over a hunt. His little brother got hurt because Dean was reckless. Attacking Sam and then getting him really hurt was not okay. Dean needed to stop but he couldn’t. He was addicted to danger and pain because he felt he needed to be punished for what happened to you. He knew it was reckless but he got in Baby playing Dust in the Wind, signing along like he always did since your death. He had memorized all the words though this time he felt content because this time he had a plan.

 I close my eyes, only for a moment

And the moment's gone

All my dreams pass before my eyes, a curiosity

 “Preach it Kansas. Nothing fucking matters that’s right.”

 Dust in the wind

All they are is dust in the wind

 Same old song, just a drop of water

In an endless sea

All we do crumbles to the ground

Though we refuse to see

 Tears came streaming down his face. How correct these lyrics were. All we do crumbles. Dean practically howled the next verse.

 Dust in the wind

All we are is dust in the wind

 Oh, ho, ho

 Now, don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky

It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy

 Dust in the wind

All we are is dust in the wind [x2]

 Dean said these verses almost as a whisper.

 Dust in the wind

Everything is dust in the wind [x2]

The wind

 When the song was finished his eyes burned with an intensity he never had before. He had an iron will now, he had to be strong enough to do what needed to be done to see you again.  

 He stood in the middle of a crossroads when a red-eyed demon appeared before him. His eyes were red from crying, his hair disheveled, his clothes dirty from the latest hunt, his jeans ripped and his hands were shaking. Dean looked like a mess. The demon smirked at the famous Winchester’s appearance.

 “I want to make a deal.”

 “Go on, Winchester.”

 Dean gulped. He closed his eyes fighting the voice that was telling him to leave now. He couldn’t leave.

 “I need you to bring Y/N back.”

 The demon’s lips curled into a smile. “I believe she’s happy in Heaven.”

 “10 years for her life.”

 The demon circled him eying Dean carefully.

 “What humans do for love, aye? OK Winchester we have ourselves a deal.”

 Tagging

Forever: @loveitsallineed, @killerofthesouth, @chaos-and-the-calm67 @deals-with-demons, @charliebradbury1104, @chelsea072498, @everyday-supernatural-af, @kalliravenne, @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride @one-shots-supernatural, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04

Angst Peeps: @blushingsamgirl, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @supernatural-jackles, @waywardjoy, @idreamofhazel, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @manawhaat, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @nichelle-my-belle, @quiddy-writes, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @babypieandwhiskey, @thegreatficmaster, @wi-deangirl77, @notnaturalanahi, @supermoonpanda, @salvachester, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @memariana91, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @deathtonormalcy56, @samsgoddess, @fandommaniacx, @dr-dean, @wildfirewinchester, @writingbeautifulmen, @frenchybell, @thewinchestielboys, @revwinchester, @captain-princess-rose, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious, @for-the-love-of-dean, @ageekchiclife, @mysupernaturalfics, @spn-fan-girl-173, @deandoesthingstome, @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @cici0507, @fiveleaf, @castieltrash1, @ohwritever, @deansleather, @ruinedbydestiel, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @inmysparetime0, @kittenofdoomage, @skybinx-blog, @sunriserose1023, @feelmyroarrrr, @wheresthekillswitch, @marasficrecs

[number9580-blog]

Butch, Genderqueer, Genderfluid, Genderfuck and Trans Blogs to watch out for

The big sexy, hot, smart, fierce, masculine, amazing, handsome, strong, sweet, thoughtful, bulging, turgid list of Butch, Genderqueer, Genderfluid, Genderfucking, Masculine-of-Center and Trans Blogs

The other day, I realized I had a hunger for new butch blogs to read.  So I started trolling blogrolls and then realized ‘butch’ doesn’t cover all of what I’m looking for.  What really peaks my interest are people talking about and living outside the gender binary.  Though I started with a blogroll category of “Butches to Watch Out For”, I’ve changed that to “Bend it like …” because what I’m really trying to get at is the gender bending, defying the default gender system in favor of something that works for all of us.

I always feel a thrill when I find new blogs where the authors are exploring gender, pushing the envelope and redefining the definitions.  Because my personal exploration is being done from the perspective of someone who started life female, bloggers who are on similar journeys appeal to me.  I want to compare notes, I want to find new words, new ways of describing the smell, taste, sound and feeling of female-born masculinity.  I now have a pretty good collection, some are friends I’ve met or chatted with, some are blogs I’ve found through the blogrolls of others.  In each case, I’ve found s0me kind of kinship, something I can relate to and learn from.

It’s kind of funny that in the midst of building up my list of butches and others who bravely break stereotypes every day in diverse situations and lives, I found that ridiculous WikiHow article on How to Be a Butch.  Clearly, the authors of that article haven’t met very many butches.  I’m not going to be foolish enough to write a How To guide for butches, but I do invite you to visit these and look for others.

New as of 5/8/2014

Hudson’s FTM Resource Guide: now that I’m in the midst of evaluating options for medical transition, this website has become indispensable to me.  Full of detailed, factual, non-judgmental information on all the things that come up for someone who is looking at options for transition from female assigned at birth to … something else on the masculine side.  I especially geeked out on the explanation of the different formulations of testosterone, including chemical structure diagrams and the pros and cons of each formulation.

New as of 8/20/2013

NeutroisNonsense:  I surprised myself the other day by finding out I hadn’t already added this blog, written by my friend Micah.  Micah’s beginning to make a name around non-binary identities, asexuality and non-binary transitioning.  Micah is one of my favorite people and has a lot of really smart, informative things to say about gender, identity and talks about the challenges and rewards of navigating through a binary world as a non-binary person.  One of my trans* heroes,

Learning How To Tell You, BD Swain:  This is a butch erotic blog after my own heart (or maybe somewhere lower).  BD joins Sinclair Sexsmith and I in the very rare world of butch erotic writers and does it with pants tightening style.  ”My name is BD Swain. I’m a butch dyke who enjoys writing queer smut – not just because it’s fun, but because sex and pushing my sexual expression is what makes me feel most alive. I am turned on by trust and by pushing the boundaries of it.”

New as of 4/12/2013

ButchOnTap: blogger Butch Jaxon says, “I see the world in a particular way. This blog is about how I see the world, both the good stuff (like beer) and the bad stuff (like idiots), but hopefully always funny.” Though I don’t always see eye to to eye with this blogger on all things butch, that hardly matters because it’s a big enough definition for all of us.  This blogger has had a couple of articles on HuffPost (look for Tristan Higgins), will probably have more in the future, and is definitely a Butch to Watch Out For.

LGinDC:  formerly the blogger known as G, of Can I Help You Sir, now in DC finding her way amongst the monuments and government entities, here’s what she has to say about herself and the blog, “I’m tall. I’m a smart-ass. I like eating with chopsticks. I’m butch. I love the Chicago Cubs and Bears. I’ve broken my nose twice. I love animals. I look horrible in yellow. I’m engaged. I love bourbon. I’m equally enamored with Beyonce and Ron Swanson. I’ll try just about anything once. I’m Irish. I live in Washington, DC. I’m a Scorpio. And I write about things.”

Genderqueer Pie Please:  [no updates since 12/2013] blogger Jake Jacobsen says, “Genderqueer isn’t a new movement, it isn’t even a movement, or new, it’s been around a long, long time, as long as I can remember. Ways of being “out”, seen, heard, and conceptualized are continuously being created through our use of language, and not just by the so called sexual minority, but by everyone. Genderqueer is one of those fairly recent creative wordage attempts at redefining a lived experience of gender that is a reality for a portion of the population.”

The Brown Boi Project is a community of masculine of center womyn, men, two-spirit people, transmen, and our allies committed to transforming our privilege of masculinity, gender, and race into tools for achieving Racial and Gender Justice.  These are great, energetic, dynamic people who are dedicated to their mission.  If this is of interest to you, check out their website and get involved.

New as of 5/16/2012

Trans Vocals: [inactive] I’m glad to see my friend, Holden, is coming back to the blog-o-sphere.  He’s got a new blog, Trans Vocals, and will be talking about his transformation and transition.  I’m very happy to see this thoughtful, intelligent person generously offering to share his insights and progress with the rest of us.

New as of 05/12/2011

fuckyeahbutches: this is a tumblr on the theme of butches, from Jenny Shimizu, to old school butches to butches like, well, me.  Check it out for eye-candy or for images of people who remind you of you and your friends.

Butch Wonders:  this blog shows great promise with posts pondering the potential adverse effects of wearing a tie to interviews, defending her choice to wax and shave, and a great post on Butch Buddies.

New as of 04/19/2011

thoughts ON: [last post 12/2013] blogger Andy posted on the topic of being trans, but not enough to transition, for more on Andy’s thoughts on this ‘middleground’, read I AM trans.  I just don’t try very hard.  From Andy’s bio:   Andy is a recent college graduate living in New England. When not engaged in queer activism Andy spends a lot of time kayaking, reading, and trying to change the world with a combination of twitter, church, and positive thinking while trying to decide on future plans which may, or may not, include ministry; but that’s the direction things are leaning right now.  Andy works for various LGBTQ organizations and loves them all dearly.

(L)earned Masculinity:  [last post 7/2012] this blogger used to post on a blog called Break it Down, Butch, but recently transitioned to this new space, acknowledging his passage from butch identified to trans identified.  Add this one to your readers and follow DK on their journey down the genderbrick road.  DK’s about page contains this line, one of my favorites found in anyone’s biography:  My soul is blue and smells faintly of cedar.

Debonairgeek:   I’m a nice guy. I am just trying to find my voice.  Em wrote a post called,Deep Thoughts, talking about being butch and genderqueer and I really relate to almost all of what they’re saying.  And, if you’ve ever wondered when and how to ‘pop your collar’ (and even if you haven’t), you should read this:  entertaining, informative, funny.

MTF Butches (tumblr): This tumblr was inspired by the existence of other amazing tumblrs such as Fuck Yeah Cute Trans Chicks, Fuck Yeah FTMs, Femme FTM, as well as others. This page is meant to provide an additional empowering space for the multitude of trans* gender expressions.  This is an inclusive space for the celebration of all butch, futch, butch-femme switches, grrls, genderqueer, genderfluid and other likewise MTF spectrum folk out there! Let’s represent some butch trans women!

Fuck Yeah FTMs (tumblr): Tumblr dedicated to FTMs, genderqueers, and others along that spectrum.  Submissions are accepted, but moderated and you should follow the theme of the day:  Muscle Mondays, Topless Tuesdays, We Wednesdays, Underwear Fridays, Fuzzy Sundays.  Check the submission link for more information and guidelines.

New as of 01/25/2011

Gendercast:  Our Transmasculine Genderqueery:  Podcasts hosted by Sean Leao and Jessie.  So far there are two podcasts, plus audio biographies from the hosts.  Gendercast is a podcast looking to build community and we are encouraging participation at every turn.  We speak to the entire transmasculine community, including genderqueer identified and beyond and of course, those who love them!

A Butch in the Kitchen.  This blog gets into the nitty gritty of cooking butch with recipes, techniques and even some kitchen gear for the butch kitchen queer. She says she’s a novice but I’ll be her skills are just ready to be discovered.  So far there are two recipes up:  Cherry cobbler and ice cream bread.  As a Butch Baker, I’m intrigued by these, but also looking forward to ideas in the appetizers and main courses categories.  Butch in the Kitchen has a list of other food sites to check out and will also take submissions of recipes and photos from other cooks.  I’m also wondering if anyone’s doing a Butch Cocktails site… hmmm.. maybe there’s a market for that.  Follow this butch on twitter, as Butchndakitchen.

New as of 1/12/2011

Mixing it Up, JizLee.com:  Genderqueer porn star, certifiably sexy individual, Jiz Lee says this about their blog — It’s a website and blog I run as a vehicle to share my experiences of sex and gender, film and photography. I hope it can provide a resource to queers and allies out there interested in my projects or wanting to find someone like themselves represented in the work I do and the ideas I express. Follow Jiz on twitter, check out their performances in the Crash Pad Series, the movie Champion and anywhere else you can.  My personal connection is fleeting but squee worthy:  I met Jiz at the New York City Sex Bloggers Calendar party in 2009 and mentioned I had this blog.. which Jiz totally knew about “Oh! You’re Kyle!” *hug* .. but that’s not all, Roxy introduced herself and got a very long,  full body hug.  I think that means Jiz approves of my taste in women

New as of 12/29/2010:

ButchLab:  Sinclair Sexsmith’s latest contribution to the community:  The mission of the Butch Lab Project is to promote a greater understanding of masculine of center gender identities, expressions, and presentations, through encouraging: 1. visibility, because we feel alone; 2. solidarity, because there are many of us out there, but we don’t always communicate with each other; and 3. an elevation of the discussion, because we have a long history and lineage to explore and we don’t have to reinvent the wheel.  Follow @butchlab on twitter as well.

On Being Butch:  a very new and shiny butch-oriented blog by J-Rob, “I’ve only recently come to realize that butch is my gender, not just a role I play, and that has opened a lot of space for me to be who I am.  Again, it’s odd, I’m 33 and I have been who I am my whole life, but I’m only just starting to understand what “who I am” actually means.”

Butch.org:  by Jenni Olson, director of e-commerce at WolfeVideo.com and an LBGT queer cinema historian.  Author of The Queer Movie Poster Book (2005, Chronicle Books), Jenni was also one of the founders of PlanetOut.com where she established the massive queer film industry resource, PopcornQ. She continues to write about queer films, as well as curating, collecting, and creating them. Her feature debut, The Joy of Life is now available on DVD.

Added 11/16/2010

Lesbian Neurotica, by Ulla, a butch dyke in South Africa who writes and draws cartoons and leaves thoughtful comments on a lot of the blogs I read.

Added 10/12/2010

A Stranger in This Place, by Wendi, who describes herself as “a motorcycle riding butch lesbian, retired accountant turned photographer and writer searching for her purpose in life and learning to enjoy the ride.”  Wendi’s working on a book and participated in the Gender/Queer Spoken Word event for BV PDX on Sunday.  I’m looking forward to reading more from Wendi.

Words of a Boi, by Jessie.  This writer read something written during Sinclair’s writing workshop that stuck with me.. so much so that I instantly recognized it when I saw it on their blog a few days later.   It’s a beautiful work of prosecomparing gender to a flower.   This writer uses poetry, wonderful imagery and an openness that is very engaging.

Added 8/2/2010

Andi HB’s blog.  Andi is a butch I met through twitter and another person who met and fell in love with someone through twitter (hey hey, Missy).  Yes, the west coast butch fell for the Nawlins femme…  can’t wait to see the Disney version.  Andi’s a fan of all things Irish, the New Orleans Saints and, of course, Missy.  Her latest post featured a damn fine pair of butch shoes.  You can follow her on twitter as @andi_hb.

bracketabracket:  [a] is a new blogger, just discovering the world of butch, trans, genderqueer, poly, BDSM blogs, since mid-june ’10, has been offering insights and stories of his own.  Check out [a]‘s blog for posts about Transgender issues, BDSM and kink, Sex, Love, Relationships, Theater, Art, Politics.

Added 6/25/2010

Bron’s blog, Duct Tape Tomatoes, is new since May of this year, but already has me pulled in with her charm and honesty.  I really, really love reading stories about people becoming themselves, it’s not only inspiring, it refuels me.   The latest one that I really loved was The Manicure… butch gets mani/pedi, freezes at nail polish choices and plays Mario Brothers with new little brother.

Dear Diaspora isn’t a new blog, and a lot of you probably already read it, but I’m new to S. L. Bond’s view of the world.  And that view, as communicated on DD is that of a Jewish Dyke and art student living in New Mexico.

Bee Listy is another blogger who’s been at it a while, Bee is a crafty, savvy butch who writes on a variety of topics.  One post that really struck home with me recently was You know what’s awesome?, where Bee speaks of her frustration over the Butch-Trans border wars and wonders why some people don’t think there’s enough masculinity to go around for all those who want to claim it.  Bee tweets as Beelisty.

Original list

Sugarbutch Chronicles:  my gateway into the world of butch blogging and one of the most popular blogs around.  Sinclair Sexsmith’s blog is your guide to sex toys, gender awareness and butch sexuality.  After stalking Sinclair through blog posts and twitter for a long time, was happy to finally meet her in person at the New York Sex Bloggers Calendar Party last November.  Over two years ago, when I discovered Sugarbutch Chronicles, what first caught my attention was the idea of butch erotic writing, which eventually led to the existence of Butchtastic.  Sinclair lent support, practical advice and encouragement and has been a great source of inspiration.  Sinclair tweets as @mrsexsmith.

Packing Vocals:  Holden is one of my favorite butch erotic writers, a family guy, a snappy dresser and a good friend.  Married to one of my favorite femmes, Femmeismygender, Holden tweets as @packingvocals.

NattNightly:  Natt isn’t blogging as much anymore, but if you love beautiful writing and honest accounts of self-discovery and gender, it’s worth your time to read through the archives.  I’ve been moved to tears more than once, from the sheer painful rawness of some stories and also from a severe case of writer’s envy.  Having met and spent time with this super cool, super smart butch, I can say without question, Natt is very tall and is a lot of fun to hang out with.   Natt tweets as @nattnightly.

Just Like Jesse James:  This Seattle butch is an unabashed Cher fan and will also discourse at length on the virtues of the Golden Girls, if you just give her half a chance.  Jesse blogs about Cher, life with her girlfriend and dog and the various other critters who inhabit their lives.  Another blogger I’ve had the good fortune to meet and hang out with in real life, we live close enough to do it again, and we’re gonna, so watch out world.   Jesse James tweets as @justjessejames.

Mina Meow/Aiden Fyre:  Depending on when you meet this blogger you might think.. “Wow, hot femme” or “Mmmgrrr, who’s that sexy boi?” and you wouldn’t be wrong either way.  Mina/Aiden is exploring gender thoroughly and with the kind of bravery, poise and intelligence we all should aspire to.  This blogger writes about gender, sexual politics and how it all fits into the life of a “try-sexual”.  I count it as one of the high points of my life that I’ve shared a deep passionate kiss with this hot and sexy blogger (and watched a make-out session with my girlfriend — yes, you should envy me).  Follow on twitter as @aidenfyreand/or @minameow.

Butch GirlCat:  Leo McCool isn’t blogging anymore but he was one of the first butch bloggers I gravitated to and fell in love with.  Leo’s sometimes heart-wrenchingly honest stories about love, relationships and the journey to find his gender home are a must read for anyone else trying to find their way between the gender poles.

X-Ray Introductions:  I first became aware of Arron when he was my secret Santa recipient and I sent him a cool metal studded belt and belt buckle.  I finally met Arron during a visit to see Roxy in San Francisco.  Over the years, I’ve enjoyed Arron’s video product reviews and stories about life.  Arron tweets as @amok_.

The Freezing Flames:  Firebolt is a genderqueer youth living in India, dealing with the challenges of a family that doesn’t get it in a society that really doesn’t get it.  Firebolt is way ahead of where I was at that age, and living under much more trying circumstances, and has my unswerving admiration as a result. Tweets as @fireboltx.

Bren Ryder:  Bren is the butch creative genius behind GoodDykePorn and as such, deserves our unending gratitude.   Bren works hard to produce real, hot, queer porn with real queers.   Bren is someone I know I’ll get to meet someday in RL, and I’m really looking forward to that.  Bren tweets as @brenryder.

Jess I Am:  Jess is courageous, thoughtful and honest in telling the story of how he went from being a butch to a transman.  Life has handed him a lot of challenges in the past couple of years, but with his wife, Tina, at his side, he’s handled those challenges with grace and strength.  I almost had the privilege of meeting these two during my trip to NYC, but it didn’t work out, but I have a very strong feeling we’ll all meet up at some point in RL.  Jess tweets as @JessIAmBlog.

How to Be Butch:  One of the newer blogs on my reader, Harrison doesn’t really try to tell you how to be butch, because, as the banner says “There’s more than one way”.  Instead, you get some fun and insightful posts on Harrison’s exploration of butchness and gender and life.    Harrison tweets as @HarrisonTB.

Sartorial Butch:  A blog about butch fashion, the culinary arts and all around butch goodness.  Another of my newer blog habits, SartorialButch is now featured on Butch-Femme.com and tweets as @SartorialButch.

She Called Me Superman:  Yondergen’s blog tagline is “writing myself down so I can be found, or followed” and that’s really the goal of most of us who blog, isn’t it?  Yondergen explores the butch-masculine-queer gender mix that is the heart of the matter for me as well.  Plus baking, relationships, the quandaries of how to express and understand it all.

Musings from the High Speed Rodeo:  Rhett’s writing is rapid and rhythmic, filled with great observations, honesty and humor.  Rhett is the Asphalt Cowboy, go on over there, y’all, you’re in for a great ride.

Can I Help You, Sir?:  Going by the initial, G, this butch blogs about gender, butchness and identity.  G tweets as @canihelpyousir and has (had?) a regular feature called the Swoon List.

Lesbian Dad:  I’ve had the Lesbian Dad on my reader for a long time.  LD writes about her family, posts the sweetest pictures of her daughter and son and talks about parenting, politics and popular culture.  My Suburban Butch Dad Reports were inspired by the Lesbian Dad.   Follow her tweets @LesbianDad.

The Butchelor:  another brave, honest blog from the perspective of a butch lesbian starting to come out as trans.  Even though I’m not trans, I find myself relating to guys like this who are born in a body that doesn’t completely match who they are on the inside.   It’s personal, it’s real, you should check it out.  Tweets as @thebutchelor.

Break It Down, Butch:  a blog I’ve discovered recently written by a butch who isn’t afraid to get it all out there.  I appreciate the passion and honesty of this blogger and look forward to reading more.

Transitional Life (Life in Transition):  Emmett takes us on his journey from butch to trans complete with family drama, changes brought on by testosterone, new names and the other challenges of life.  Emmett is a lovely guy, wonderful with animals (he’s a vet tech) and people (especially kids, kids love him) and I wish him all the best as he continues on his journey.  He’s got a YouTube channel, labradork1 where he’s been tracking the changes brought on by his transition.  Emmett tweets as @friendtopups.

Butch Boo:  BB is one of my earliest readers, a Brit Butch Blogger in London who recently posted a lovely grouping of pictures featuring butch footwear.

A Gender Queer View:  Natasha Yar-Routh’s place on the web.  A married gender queer trans-woman who posts short little nuggets of political observation and thoughts on life.  Tweets as @xiomberg.

Gender Me Softly:  The only couple-authored blog on my list, this blog is brand new, they just started this month.  T. J.  and Rhylee Flint share love, lives and blog space.  Thad is a butch, likes the word ‘queer’ (so do I) and enjoys cultivating a masculine look through binding and packing.  Rhylee is a queer female who’s exploring her gender and gender expression from a more femme perspective.

Gender Outlaw:  this is a blog chronicling Joshua Riverdale’s  FTM journey.  Even though transitioning isn’t for me, I’ve learned a lot from his blog entries, videos and tweets, and appreciate his wit and intelligence.  If you are curious about transitioning, or looking for genderqueer related resources (think binding, packing, etc), consider this blog and his website, transguys.com, as great starting points for the personal stories and resources.  He’s got some of the best sideburns ever.. I’m totally having some envy over those.  Josh tweets as @transguys.

Genderfork:  this is a community blog, who’s mission is to support community for the expression of identities across the gender spectrum.  They tweet as @genderfork and post profiles of genderqueer/fluid/variant folks.

Get Off My Lawn:  wow.. now that’s a pretty grumpy blog title.  Read the About Me and see a lot of bullet points.. this blogger loves bullet points, and was highly influenced by popular culture icons such as Matlock, Hank Hill and Mulder and Scully.  As grumpy as the blog title is, I find this blogger highly amusing and fun to read, go check it out and see if you feel the same way.  Tweets as @benjamin_bex.

Just a Big Guy with a Fun Sense of Sin:  S. Bear Bergman’s Live Journal.  I got to see Bear on a book reading tour with Ivan Coyote, and bought his book “The Nearest Exit May be Behind You” that night.  Bear is a transman, new father and a gifted story teller.  Bear tweets as @sbearbergman.

Visibly Transparent:  Bear’s husband, Ishai, has a Live Journal as well.  He carried their son Stanley and I can relate to his stories about the fertility clinic, pregnancy, birth and parenting.

Love Kills Slowly (tumblr):  tumblr account of Val, known on twitter as @rugby8.  Val posts pictures of sexy women, and the occasional quote.

somewhere in the middle:  Nezu says it best “This is my place for looking at the middle ground of gender identity and sexual preference. And who knows, probably other stuff, too.”  I’ve just begun to explore this writer’s musings about butchness, gender, identity and relationships.

TG Stone Butch Journal:   Corey Alexander is a well-known queer kink/sex educator and writer.  He can be found all over the country at conferences teaching and speaking on topics as diverse as polyamory, butch faggot play, stone sexuality and a myriad of other topics around gender and sexuality.  Corey tweets as @tgstonebutch, look for his queer BDSM erotica under the nom de plum, Xan West.

The Man Sam:  Son of T:  Former female Sam Peterson tells all in this blog about transition.  Looking forward to his chest reconstruction surgery thanks to ChestFest2010, Matt is wonderfully honest, funny and self-deprecating — a combination I particularly enjoy.  Follow him on twitter as @ThaManSam.

Transfaggotry:  Faggot Boi blogs about pronoun anxiety, leaving the lesbian identity behind, and other topics around becoming trans.

Transifesto:  Matt Kailey’s place on the web.  Matt shares information and his thoughts on transgender and transsexual issues.  He’s a nationally recognized speaker and author on transgender issues and tweets as @MattKailey.

Androgynanomous: DPR (Dread Pirate Roberts) is the sweetheart of one of my favorite online people, Scintillectual.  DPR just started blogging not long ago, but has already established a rhythm with poetry, musings on gender and sweet, sensual tributes to her lover.  Tweets as @dread_pyrate.

butchboi:  this site is run by the infamous Leo, of the Big Pink House.  This is a site for cruising and networking, for those who identify as butch, boi, trans, gender queer, stud, drag king & their friends.  The free membership opens up some features: forums, events and cruising, videos and a chatroom.  The Cruising feature is fun, you can hone in your search by age, geography with more features available to subscribers.  Check out the tweets from @ButchBoiLeo and @ButchBoi and@BigPinkHouse to keep up with the ButchBoi happenins.

This is the list so far, I like the length and heft of it (heh!) and I really like the diversity.  The bloggers on this list have a stories to tell, experiences to share and I will continue to learn a lot from them.  The breadth of this group, from the more female identified butch to the more male identified trans, meet the needs I have to explore the many facets and identities within me.  There are some super smart people on this list, and funny too… great writers, open-hearted honest people, sometimes frustrated, but trying to make the world a better place for themselves and others.   It may be hubris on my part to count myself as one of them, but these people have nurtured, coached and supported my journey as well.  Even if we don’t make the same decisions, or come to the same conclusions, we’re all asking the same kind of questions, and questioning the same assumptions.

I encourage you to visit these blogs, read their stories and add them to your regular rotation if they appeal to you.  And if I’ve left someone out, someone you think would fit into this list, please be so kind as to introduce me to them.

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