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diejager · 5 months

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More Wolfie plz🥺? Idk what you’d right but I love the universe you built up with it and would love more of it, even if it’s just a sliver

Training Cw: smut, training, collar, ring gag, doggy style, creampie, unprotected sex, PinV, fingering, tell me if I missed any.

“What did I tell you about growling, pup?” He sounded so demeaning, his hand laid heavy on your nape, holding your face down and away from the two men in the room with you.

Ghost had pulled you to Price’s office under the guise of this being training, wanting to work through your aggression you’d thrived on while living in the wild. You were jerky and a biter, baring your teeth after a low growl, threatening to sink into someone’s hand or arm as retaliation. They were getting a lot of complaints from people who would approach you and attempt to pet your ears and tail, wanting to touch the softness of your washed fur and disregarding your personal space and boundaries.

“None of that,” his grip tightened around your neck when your throat rumbled, a growl slipping through your gagged mouth, drool rolling down your cheek.

They gave you a pretty, black ring gag, placed behind your teeth to keep your mouth open from biting them and showing off your sweet and fiery mouth. The black leather looped behind your head, a thin strap connecting it to your collar, a smooth, black leather that sat comfortably around your neck without irritating it, but thin enough for you to feel everything. They had you wear it as a sign of possession, the silver insignia of their Task Force hanging from the front, a skull and winged sword proudly gleaming under the light wherever you go.

You mellowed down, growls quieting to loud pants, exhausted from your skirmish with Ghost, doing your best ignore your Captain’s rough handling, his calloused fingers kneading the flesh of your hips and stomach, his hands smoothing over the arch of your back to your tail. Your fur was matted and wet, dirtied with slick that - prior to being forced into this position - pooled down your rim and wetting your soft fur. You’d long given up in fighting Price, he was much stronger than you and smelled of power and strength —like alpha. He was the leader of your little pack, a fiercely protective leader who had every intent of putting his group first, but it was his scent that made you stop. He smelled of strong musk, a heady scent of cigar and cedar, less smoky and sweet than your Lieutenant’s sandalwood that kept flooding your sensitive nose.

“Good pup, you’re doing so well,” Price cooed, running his fingers through your hair, scratching the reactive nerve behind your ears. It made you whine, a high sound that had both of them shush you, “That’s it, you’re all right, pup.”

Your panting grew louder, mewls slipping out as a final sign of submission, letting them bend your body to their pleasure. You arched your back, bucking against the bearded man that was ploughing into you, driving his hard cock into your wet cunt, slick squelching out of you with every snap of his hips, his balls slapping your twitching clit. You couldn’t deny how good it felt to give up all autonomy after having taken care of yourself on your own for years, letting another care for you and manhandle you in the best way. His veined girth laid heavy in your cunt, your gummy walls wrapped round him in a tight hold, just a hair away from coming.

Canting his hips and leaning forward, your world exploded in bright lights when Price’s head tapped your cervix, punching the air out of your body with every thrust. He was guiding you through your orgasm just as he had his, his cock throbbing and veins pulsing before the tip spurted ropes of cum, painting your walls white with his tangy lad, hot and thick. Price groaned lowly, palms holding your hips flushed to his, giving a few jerky thrusts before he hilted inside of you, unmoving but grounding you with the smooth touch of his thumb and Ghost’s grip on your scruff.

When he pulled out, his cum oozed out of you, dripping down your mound and landing on the old couch in his office. He admired the gift with a slight twitch of his cock, it leaked out of you like an unending fall. Wasteful, truly. His fingers slid down your thighs, gathering his cum and pushed it back in, fingering his load with a few wet sounds.

“Stay good for Ghost, pup. Can you do that?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

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konigsblog · 6 months

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werewolf! könig and mating season😳🪭

tw: hybrid fucking

mauschen, werewolf könig will not leave you able to walk after he's finished with his rut... :(

you're a fucktoy for him. getting used and fucked into for hours on end. his brutal pace leaving your holes gaping and raw with strings of his thick, potent oozing out your slicken pussy. the textures of his fluffy, yet sweaty pubes rubbing against all your sensitive areas driving you utterly insane.

he adores putting you into a mating press. thighs against your chest as he ploughs and thrusts into you. instead of him being in the cage, you have your bare back against his dog blankets, half of your body in his cage as he uses and abuses your holes! :3

“es tut mir leid, kleine maus! du nimmst es einfach so gut, wie ein braves, dummes mädchen ...” he mutters through his breathy grunts and guttural groans, tail wagging as he fucks his seed deeper into you.

*“i'm sorry, little mouse! you just take it so well, like a good, stupid girl...”

#orla speaks #tw: hybrid #werewolf hybrid #könig fanfiction #cod könig #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig #konig x reader smut #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig #konig cod

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chronicowboy · 4 months

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Maddie humbles him pretty severely in their conversation. Look, he knows it's stupid, knows it's selfish really, knows it's just plain crappy of him. But. But he hurt Christopher. And there wasn't some big uncontrollable variable like a tsunami that Eddie can explain it away with.

Sure, it was an accident, but it still happened. Sure, it was only a few scrapes that he'd cleaned up almost immediately with the little first aid kit tucked into the glove compartment of his Jeep - and, well, maybe part of the guilt is the way Christopher had grimaced at the added sting of the antiseptic wipes. But he'd done it. He'd made Christopher cry. And he'd ran as soon as Eddie swept in to take care of him. He'd ran before either of them could tell him to get out.

Christopher is injured, and Buck hasn't been to see him once. Christopher is injured because of Buck, and he's only checked in through a much too knowing Eddie. Because he's a coward, especially when it comes to Christopher. Jesus, nothing in the world scares him more than Christopher. Everything's so big and inconceivable with him. Buck feels it all, feels it all so strongly. The things he'd do for that kid... Well, that scares him too. Almost as much as Christopher's anger does, but he can't run from it forever. He can't stay away forever, so he shoots Eddie a quick text as he leaves Maddie's.

Can I come see Chris at some point?

He's just buckling himself into the driver's seat when his phone buzzes with a reply.

Get over here

Another buzz.

Now

His already knotted stomach twists into an even more complex shape as he turns the key in the ignition, but he has to face the music some time or another. May as well be now.

It takes him an inordinately long and nauseating time to get to the Diaz door, an even longer time to actually knock and then a terrifyingly short amount of time for Eddie to be appearing before him with those big, understanding eyes he can never seem to escape.

"Hi," he mumbles, suddenly struck with what image he must make out there on the porch. A naughty dog with a guiltily hung head and a tail between his legs just waiting to be patted on the head and told he's forgiven.

"Buck, come in." Eddie rolls his eyes and practically drags him inside. Buck had been about ninety-nine per cent sure (okay, maybe more like eighty) that Eddie's texts had been fond exasperation and not actual anger, but it's not until he hears Eddie's voice that he knows for sure. He was never a bad dog in Eddie's mind. Buck's tail wags just a little as Eddie leans back against the hallway wall with his arms folded over his chest. "He's in his room and he misses his Buck."

"Even after I almost killed him?" he mutters petulantly.

"Buck, you tripped over his crutches. The both of you went down and, honestly, you walked away worse than he did." Buck opens his mouth to argue, but Eddie ploughs on. "Don't lie to me. I saw those bruises on your ribs last shift. I know how weaponised those elbows can become."

"I'm fine."

"So is he," Eddie says seriously. "You know how many times I've tripped over his crutches?"

"Did you feel guilty about it afterwards?" Buck pries, eyes trained on his shoes where they kick lightly, sheepishly at the carpet.

"Of course, I did. I always do. Hell, I accidentally got some salt in his eyes when we were cooking the other day and I almost took myself down to Athena's station." Eddie shakes his head, unimpressed. "I'm his dad, I'd send him outside in a bubble wrap suit if I could. But I've been informed that isn't 'cool'," Buck snorts, "so I'm trying my best to make peace with the fact that that he's going to get hurt and I'm not always going to be stop it. But." Eddie steps closer, drops a hand to Buck's shoulder, ducks his hand to catch his eye. And Buck feels the echo of a wave and three ragged scratches across his face. "But I can always be there after it happens, to pick him back up and tend to his wounds, yeah?"

"Yeah," Buck whispers, nodding against the whirring of his brain.

"He's already mostly healed up. Go and see for yourself." Eddie leaves with a pointed look at Christopher's door, and Buck stays staring down the hallway like he can will it into something that feels a little less like a walk on the plank.

As he takes his first step, for just a moment, he wishes he was back in the endless labyrinthine hallways of his coma dream just to postpone his fate a little longer.

See, what he hadn't told Maddie was that he had actually tried texting Christopher a few days after their tumble. A sorry and an I hope you're okay and a jokey maybe we should leave basketball to the pros which had only gleaned a thumbs up emoji in response. So, he's not feeling very optimistic when he knocks on Christopher's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Buck, buddy." Silence. A sigh maybe, if he strains. "C-can I come in?"

Another pause.

"Fine."

Buck pushes into the room with his heart in his throat. Christopher doesn't look up from his textbook where he's propped up against his headboard, just carries on reading. Buck approaches carefully, hovering at the end of the bed where he'd normally just sit.

"How are you doing?" he asks uselessly.

"Fine."

"Yeah?" Christopher only shrugs, and Buck sighs in defeat. "I'm really sorry, bud. I didn't mean to do it, you have to know that. I'd never ever do anything to hurt you-"

"Wait." Chris finally looks up from his book with his frown. "Do you think I'm mad because you tripped me up?"

"I-I, well, yeah." Buck blinks. "So, you are mad?"

"Yeah, I'm mad, but not about that." Chris groans and slams his book shut. "Why'd you disappear?"

"B-because I thought you'd be mad at me for, you know, hurting you," Buck says dumbly. Christopher rolls his eyes so similarly to Eddie's earlier expression that Buck aches with it.

"You didn't hurt me. Gravity hurt us."

"But you're mad at me."

"Because you disappeared!" Chris bursts. Buck's mouth snaps shut with a click. "Everything's changing. You and me and dad barely ever hang out anymore. And I know I'm getting older, so I shouldn't want to, but I do. But you're both dating, so it's always just the one of you. Or the three of us and a stranger. And I hate it. And the last time this happened, you promised you weren't going anywhere, but you did! And I want you both to be happy, and I really don't want dad to feel so lonely now I'm growing up, but I wish..." Christopher ducks his head as if suddenly realising he'd revealed too much.

"You wish?" Buck asks on the exhale of a breath he'd been holding since Christopher's little outburst, something fierce and jagged latching itself to his sternum.

"I wish you both could be happy with..." He shrinks into himself a little, and Buck wraps his hand around the footboard like a lifeline - like whatever Christopher is about to say will turn the world upside down. "I wish this was enough. I wish the three of us could make you both as happy as-as it makes me." He flushes and cracks his textbook open. "It sounds dumb when I say it."

"No, no," Buck croaks, something big and unwieldy expanding against the inside of his ribs, something that could choke him if he let it. "It doesn't sound dumb at all."

#sami rambles #wrote this in half an hour sorry! but i have actual work to do today so........#anyway i love one red herring conflict being used as a vehicle for a bigger deeper conflict :DD #911 spoilers #911 show #911 abc #911 spec #buckley diaz family #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #911 fic #911 ficlet #911 spec fic #buckley diaz family fic

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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I’m foaming at the mouth thinking about laying könig on his back. Ghost is fucking him and reader is riding him at the same time. He deserves to be spoiled <3

Ghost, König and You

Wordcount: 1,589

Warnings: 18+, Submissive König, Dominant Ghost, Dominant Reader, Stomach Bulging, Big Dick Ghost and König, Anal Penetration, No Pronouns used for Reader except for ‘You’, Dick Riding, Teasing, Unprotected Sex, etc.

A/N: If you don't like this kind of content, don't flag it ! It really hurts us authors and our engagement ! Instead, consider changing your account viewing preferences so you aren't exposed to unwanted/NSFW content in the future :-), saving both you time and us the heartache. Here is a wonderful post which details how you can do just that <3

König's mouth hung open, his crown threatening to hit the headboard with every harsh thrust of Ghost's hips. He whined and gasped as he clawed at the bed sheets beneath him, trying something – anything – to ground himself. The sheets were coated in his sweat and liquids, perspiration beading on his forehead, mouth agape and drooling.

His bottom half was coated in his pre that had leaked down his shaft. With each slam of your hips against his, thin strands of love would connect the two of you, a wet, slapping sound filling the room, drowning out even a single cohesive thought in König’s head.

His weeping cock twitched inside you, bulging in your stomach as Ghost's did in his, throbbing, pulsing, pleading for release. His walls just barely allowed Ghost in, stretched out over his thick cock, a delectable burn sure to remain days after this ordeal. The knot in König’s stomach had only grown in these hours of torture, near ripping itself apart with its own size as Ghost's dick did to him, carving a bump inside him.

You hummed, head thrown back against Simon’s shoulder as he rutted behind you, shunting you with every savage thrust of his hips, making your hips rock against König’s. "Such a good boy for us, Köni," you told him, your eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping his chest, feeling his quivering, pounding heart beneath your fingers.

König could only moan, the ability to form full sentences having abandoned him long ago. Verging on tears, he couldn't take the forceful slamming of your hips, his walls tightening with each plough from Ghost. Simon’s grip on his thick thighs, flesh peaking between the valleys of his fingers, did little to ground König.

"I c-cant–" his voice was thin, high, laced with the need to sob. Ghost shushed him.

"Shhh, it's okay, Baby," came Simon's baritone. He grunted, ceasing for no longer than a second as he withdrew an inch or two, taking another angle and ramming back into König. König near-shrieked, his yelp tailing off into a moan as you leant down and pressed your lips to his, swallowing his doubts, his cries.

“S’okay, sweet boy,” you whispered. Your lips trailed from his down to his jaw, nestling in a soft spot between the bone and his neck. You lapped at the sweat that collected there. König shivered.

Simon’s hands slithered up from König’s thighs to your waist. His hands wrapped around your middle, and you both groaned. He could feel König’s cock pulsing in your stomach, a bump forming where you’d trapped him. He pressed down, making you whine and König drawl, moan, his back arching into you. Simon didn’t let up, a sly smile crossing his face.

One hand took yours and placed it upon König’s stomach, slick with sweat and something sticky. There, you felt Ghost piercing him, filling him past full. König whined, cowered, as your fingers crept along his middle. Looking back at Ghost, he nodded, and with a force you pressed down on König; not enough to crush the man impaling him, but enough that a strangled groan emerged from him, and a whimper from König.

Simon leaned in, rested his head upon your shoulder. “Takin’ him so well, Angel,” and he squeezed your waist, and, loud and sharp, you cried out, clenching even tighter. König, unable to handle the torment – the torture – yelled, his voice urgent and desperate as the plea that it was.

“Please, I can’t take anymore!” he cried. He tried thrusting up, but you pressed down on his stomach, making him yelp and become docile once more. “Please,” his voice was a whisper. Between slitted, tearful eyes, he looked up at you. “Please, mein Schatz – please let me finish,”

You looked down at König, the mountain you’d reduced to an anthill, and cast a glance at Ghost. His thrusts slowed, and, his chest heaving, he gave you silent confirmation – a look in his eye, a nod – to give König what he wanted.

Your attention returned to the whining, whimpering mess of a man caged beneath your legs. He was shuddering, body exhausted yet racked with enough euphoria to easily incapacitate two people. You slid your hands from his stomach to his chest, and raising your hips, glinted König a devious smile.

“You ready, Sweetie?” you said, a mocking tint to your voice. König no doubt noticed it, and whether out of fear or simply the need to cum, he didn’t acknowledge it. He only nodded, a string of rushed, needing ‘yes’s pooling from his lips as drool did whenever Ghost was pounding him face-down, ass-up into the pillows.

“You sure?” you teased. A look of sheer sorrow crossed König’s face as you denied him of his release. He tried reaching up to you again, almost knocking you off-balance as his hips shunted yours. When you regained your position, you scowled, took his face in your hand and squeezed. You felt him twitch inside you.

“Not until I say so.” Your voice was thunder, absolute, the lightning crack of a whip illuminating the simmering anger beneath the surface. Purely theatrical, of course; you found König’s display to be rather endearing.

Now, writhing and desperately trying not to, König nodded as incessantly as his energy would allow. You hummed, retracting and resuming your lion-esque position, hands on his chest, hips raised. Ready to strike.

Ghost hissed as he watched König’s cock become partially unsheathed, reaching a hand between the two of you to feel his soaking shaft, and the strands that tried desperately to keep you and König connected. His fingers trailed back to your hole, stretched wide over König and no doubt positively red and aching. A hum rumbled through his chest.

“I wonder what yours’ll look like when I fuck that tight arse of yours, Köni,” he said, withdrawing, nonchalant yet feral. König moaned, and, seizing the opportunity, you descended upon him.

Your rhythm was brutal, unflinching and positively cruel. König threw his head back into the pillows, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he took you and Ghost.

“Doing so well for us, Sweet Boy,” you cooed, resisting the urge to roll your head back as König hit just the right angle inside you. The behemoth only gave moans and gasps as a response, too fucked-out of his own mind to convey anything else.

Ghost gave his own input – encouragement – as he destroyed König. He reached a hand between you again, and, gently, took König’s balls into his palm, giving them a light squeeze. König writhed under Ghost’s touch, giving a tortured moan and rutting against you.

“God, such a sensitive little thing you are,” came Ghost, his fingers pulsing around König’s sack. “So raw after being fucked all night.”

König whined and you stifled a moan as Ghost’s words went straight between your legs and made the electricity building there spike, jolt. Then came Simon with a proposition. A command.

"You gonna cum inside (Y/N)?" His voice was as authoritative as his statement was demanding. And the thought made your insides clench, fixing König inside you. He groaned, a strangled, mangled moan entwined with it, his back arching into you. You smiled, dragging your hand up to trace the outline of his cock in your stomach again, pressing your palm flat against it. König all but squealed – shrieked.

"You can do it, Köni," you told him, voice soft and filled with love. "I know you can."

"I can–" König breathed heavily, exasperatedly, questioning rather than certain. Asking for permission. You rocked your hips against him, making his eyes clamp tighter.

"Come on,” you challenged. “Do it." You brought your lips to his ear and kissed the shell. "Cum inside me."

König couldn't take it anymore. With a final, laboured yell, his back arched, his hulking figure shivering and burning after the long night. His load was thick and heavy, filling you to the brim and then some. You moaned, giving yourself just a few more strokes on his cock until you were in a similar condition to him, emptying yourself onto him, globules of an unidentified mixture beading past your walls and racing down König’s shaft. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, his eyes squeezing shut.

Ghost’s hips stuttered behind you, and the accumulating force with which he destroyed König waned, once, for a beat, before he let out a strangled moan. His chest pressed to your back, skin sticking to skin, as he forced König to take every inch of him, submerging himself inside his hole to the hilt. You could almost feel the force with which his load erupted from him, pumping inside König and making him cower, cry out.

Both men panted heavily as their orgasms tore through them. In a cruel twist of fate, you took the liberty of pressing one hand to your stomach and one to König’s, smile twitching as you pushed down, making both behemoths fit in some way; Ghost more volatile than König as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back. Military. Tactical.

“You’ll pay for that, Sunshine,” he breathed, promised. His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you clenched around König, in turn making him clamp down on Simon, eliciting a weak moan from the mass of death who trembled between your legs, and another from the reaper at your back. Yet that did nothing to stop König from offering a sly smile, one which agreed wholeheartedly with Ghost and his claim.

Uh-oh.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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madammidnightsblog · 4 months

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This isn’t my normal post or anything related to femdom BUT I HAD TO WRITE IT!! Call Of Duty Brainrot is real 😵‍💫

How I believe 141 are in bed:

John Price: he is a rough and hard lover in bed, almost never gentle because he is so pent up and frustrated due to missions and handling the constant stress as Captain, but don’t worry, does great aftercare. He is very experienced after all. Has safe words in place if it’s too much for you, big in DDLG/DDLB and has a Daddy kink. Something about you makes him wild and feel young so be a dear and get on daddy’s thigh and show him how good you are. He will make sure you’re all nice and dumb after the done and will draw you a bath and make you a snack after before letting you sleep. This man has been around long enough to know how to treat someone after a good fuck so you won’t have to worry about being neglected during and after it.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley: my personal belief on this scary Lieutenant, when it comes to sex he is soft and gentle. Don’t get me wrong, I feel like if asked or needed to, he will be hard but very aggressive. If it’s a simple hookup, he is aggressive, hard, and almost hateful due to all the anger and stress built up over time. He has been through some shit and needs an outlet at times that isn’t cracking skulls or working out. But, when it comes to falling in love, he is a gentle lover as he fears his large body and strength will crush them. He’s a man of few words but his actions show he’s emotions.

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish: Now, this man is rough and loud, he loves making sure you feel so good. He is the type to go at it for hours with lots of foreplay and even some tongue action, he isn’t afraid to get between those pretty thighs and tasting that sweet nectar. Petplay is his favorite kink as he loves to dress you up in such pretty puppy ears and tails and putting a pretty collar around your neck- you’re a good puppy, right? You’ll never know with this man though, one minute he’s cuddling you and calling you his sweet baby, then the next he has you ass up and face down while he’s ploughing into that sweet, wet hole of yours and calling you his dumb cock loving mutt :).

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick: Is a sweet mix of rough and gentle, he loves to go with the flow and allow you to choose what you’re in the mood for. He doesn’t care how it’s done, your pleasure is what he’s after and he’ll be damned if you went a night without him between those thighs. He has a high limbo, surprisingly higher than Soap’s, maybe it’s because he’s the youngest or maybe because you’re just so damn pretty- he’s not sure but he doesn’t care. He isn’t the type to care about titles but being called baby? Oh, you got him hooked. Kyle is another man of few words and shows his love and that’s him between those thighs, tongue buried deep in your sopping hole while you wrap your thighs around his head. Be a sweet girl/boy, make it hard for him to breathe, okay?

#call of duty #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #I’m madly in love with them #something about them drives me insane #I want them #totally not losing my shit a soft Simon #call of duty smut #military men make me wet🩷#task force 141

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rookthorne · 6 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐰 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥

A girl’s day out with Koda takes a surprising turn, and you were left with more questions than answers with Bucky’s strange, mysterious behaviour.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☘︎ Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☘︎ 1.9k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☘︎ Tooth rotting fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☘︎ I love foreshadowing.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☘︎ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Snow covered the roads between Bucky’s cabin and the town centre, and the truck tires, chains attached, navigated the terrain with ease — a blessing, given the age of the ancient automobile.

Next to you, in the passenger seat, Koda sat with her tongue lolling from her mouth and tail thumping on the leather of the seat. Her little barks and grunts of excitement made you smile as you drove, nearing the town.

The build up to the festive season, at least, in your family, was always a hectic, mind-numbing time. Preparations started early, as early as October, and the habit of having some semblance of festive organisation and creativity allowed the ability to make a plan with some affinity for joy.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. Bucky, on the other hand, was as laid back as a bear in hibernation. He could not care less.

“Are you headed out today?” Bucky asked tiredly — the low timbre of his morning voice still sent shivers up your spine. It was one of the rare times where Bucky wasn’t awake and up working before the crack of dawn.

You allowed yourself only a short amount of time to revel in it. Just because he chose to lie in, it didn’t mean the world stopped. And time was ticking by.

The pop and crack of your bones when you stretched to the ceiling made you wince, and you slumped on the bed with a groan. “Why don’t you meet us in the–” You paused, mulling over the places in town that you could stop at. “What about the cafe? By Wanda’s shop—you remember it right?”

Bucky yawned, and nodded. “A’right, sounds good.” He rolled onto his back and huffed. “Take Koda with you? Poor princess misses her momma—I’m workin’ her too hard, apparently.”

“You are,” you teased, smirking. “I’ll take my baby, we can have a girl’s day.”

“If you come back with her claws painted,” Bucky said, sitting up. “I swear to–” You kissed him full on the lips, silencing his tirade, and he pulled back, brow raised. “Jus’ have fun. I know what you get like with this damn Christmas shoppin’, baby.”

“I always have fun.”

An hour later, after a hearty, warm breakfast, Koda and you jumped into your truck and there you were, on the road to town, the back tray of the truck prepared for your incoming haul.

Koda huffed next to you, and you glanced over — she was looking out the window at a herd of bounding deer. “No, baby,” you chided, and you put a hand on her back, scratching the fur. “You can’t have them, leave ‘em be.”

A low whine left her muzzle at the scolding, and you chuckled.

“How about we get you a treat in town, hey?” She turned in the seat to face you, her floppy, brown ears perking up at the word treat. “I knew that would get you, honey,” you cooed, scratching her chin, and you grimaced at the slobber that now covered your wrist.

The town sign came into view as you rounded the final turn of the road. Sprawling pines and fir trees lined the way, a distinctly thick blanket of snow covering their branches from the previous night’s fall. It was a beautiful sight as the sunlight bounced off the crisp white.

Townsfolk that dawdled on the sidewalks were rugged up to the nines in the chilly breeze. A snow plough had thankfully been through that morning, leaving behind heaped piles on the sides of the roads, and you briefly thought of the mess that Koda would make jumping into one.

“Koda, baby,” you said, and Koda’s mouth closed as she tilted her head in question — her bright eyes widened from your stern tone. “I need you to behave. You stay next to me, okay?”

She barked once and licked her nose. “I know you can’t understand me,” you mused, and you turned your truck into a free parking space. The grind of the handbrake was loud in the cabin. “Alright, how about we get a couple of things for preserving first, honey?”

A yip was your answer, and you nodded. “Good girl. Now, c’mon.” The air outside was as crisp as it was back at the cabin, but you made your way to the passenger side and opened the door for Koda. “Heel,” you ordered immediately, and Koda stood stock still. “That’s it. Let’s get your lead.”

With the leash attached to her collar and your bag over your shoulder, you began the journey of Christmas shopping. Koda greeted every person that passed you by, as did you. Life in a small town was the familiarity with everyone, and you felt blessed for that, given the amount of baked goods you received as gifts — and the friendships, of course.

For hours, you went from shop to shop, buying things on your considerably long list, and you were starting to tire from lugging groceries back and forth. The temptation to text Bucky and tell him to hurry up was overwhelming.

The cuts of meat in the crate you carried jostled as you walked back towards your truck, when Koda perked up next to you. And having a weighty load of fresh meat in your arms, you were keen to avoid an overexcited dog pulling you down onto the pavement in a glorious face plant. “Girl, heel,” you commanded quickly, looking up and around, “What is it?”

You searched the street, until you saw a truck approaching — it was identical to the one that parked next to yours back at the cabin, and with an equally familiar brown and white St. Bernard in the passenger seat. Bucky had finally arrived. “Oh, thank–”

Koda barked and launched forward, her paws skidding over the snowy pavement, and you winced at the pull of the lead on your wrist. The crate of meat in your arms tottered and swayed dangerously as the truck pulled up right in front of you, the engine cutting out straight away. Bucky’s head popped out from the driver’s side window as Koda whined, desperate to get to him.

“I was just about to text you,” you huffed, desperately attempting to get a stable hold on the meat so it would not tumble to the concrete.

Bucky, who had worn his hair down and covered it with a beanie, while a thick, plaid jacket covered his shoulders, slipped out the driver’s side and Sarge followed suit. “Good thing I have a sixth sense for when my Clover needs help, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, and Bucky took the crate from your arms. “Thank you. Koda, sit.”

The overexcited ball of fluff did as she was told, and you scratched behind her ears as she looked up at you, then to Bucky, then back to you. Sarge was placidly sitting at Bucky’s heel, his calm disposition making you envious for a fleeting second. “She’s been so excited—seeing all of her friends,” you explained.

“I bet,” Bucky chuckled. He looked at you and grinned. “So, where were my girls off to next? What’s on that list a’yours?”

You sighed, and fetched the sheet of paper that had guided your whole expedition from your bag. “Decorations—I need some for our tree that you got,” you listed, and your eyes scanned further down the page. “Then it is… Well, that’s really it, except for the last of the food.”

“Why don’t we do the food first,” Bucky offered, stepping backwards towards the bed of his truck. “Then they,” he nodded at the two dogs who now sat at your feet, “Will hopefully, hopefully, be tired out—give us less of a damn workout.”

“Good idea.”

Once the cuts of meat were safely away in the bed of Bucky’s truck, the four of you made your way back down the street towards another grocer, your list and the leash of Koda in one hand, Bucky’s in the other.

The venture through the grocer’s went smoothly, even with the two dogs in tow, and when you made your way back to your truck, Bucky paused. The sudden tug on your arm made you stop, and you looked back to see what was wrong. “What is– Oh.”

Bucky was staring into the window display of the local seamstress. There were two mannequins, dressed up as Santa Claus, and Mrs. Claus. “They’re pretty,” he said, stepping closer to the glass.

You followed suit and admired the finishes on the skirt of Mrs. Claus’ dress — beautiful, iridescent whites and ivories were interwoven with deep cherry red. It looked comfortable too; warm from the soft material.

The Santa costume looked just as well made with woollen accents, and heavy, durable fabric. “You would be so cuddly in that, babe,” you murmured, absentmindedly squeezing Bucky’s hand. “And you could be Santa, even over at the site.”

“We need them,” Bucky said quietly, and before you could say a word of protest, he let go of your hand and walked right up to the entry. There was the sound of Christmas carols when he pulled the door open, and he walked inside, Sarge following obediently after him.

“Bucky!” you laughed, and you rushed in after him, careful to keep a tight hold on Koda’s leash. “Come back, let’s get all of this in the car first.”

The interior of the shop was cosy and warm. Materials and threads of all kinds and colours lined the space in shelves or drawers; the colours of green, red, and gold most popular, if the giant display in the middle of the floor was any indication.

You found Bucky at the counter, chatting happily with the worker while they prepared something on the countertop. He smiled at you as you approached, and said to the worker, “We’ll grab the set of outfits on the mannequins.”

The worker grinned and ran to grab the matching outfit from the mannequins. With them occupied, you looked at Bucky, unable to hide the amusement at his impulsivity. “This wasn’t on my list,” you whispered, smirking.

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t care, bunny. You’re gonna look so fuckin’ beautiful in that, and I need my Mrs. Claus, don’t I?”

You sighed. “You’re not wrong.”

“Thank you,” Bucky drawled, and he kissed your cheek just as the worker came back with the matching costumes.

A few moments later, all four of you exited the store, cardboard bag in hand with the costumes. Thankfully, both of your trucks were parked not too far from one another.

With a few grunts of effort, the two truck beds were stacked full from your haul, and everything was ticked off your list, except…

“You do realise, babe,” you said suddenly, now that the reality of those costumes had settled in. “That Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus are married… Right?”

Bucky only smirked.

Your mouth fell slack at his lack of an answer, and you swore your coat was suddenly too hot. “Bucky!”

He shrugged. “What? Can’t a man dream?” You watched him walk backwards to his truck, Sarge at his heels, and he blew you a kiss before he slipped into the driver’s seat. “See you at home, baby!” he called over the rumble of the engine, and he was gone.

At your feet, Koda yipped and looked up at you. “Did you– Did you hear him, baby?” She whined in response. “I– Oh my god, okay,” you breathed. Your heart raced in your chest and your mind moved just as fast. “What just happened? No, no—let’s get home, honey. Your dad has a lot to answer for.”

If Koda could have voiced an answer, you would have suspected she would turn around and mention the lack of treats — but little did you know, the biggest treat was yet to come one day soon.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #MB #rookthorne's works

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serenescribe · 9 months

Note

I'm a *tad* obsessed with the idea of fae Lilia raising a completely different species son Silver, specifically jellyfish mer Silver. I am curious to see how you would interpret fae Lilia finding baby jelly Silver.

it's been a long while since the last long fic request :') slowly chipping away at them. uni is killing me. i hope you enjoy!

a side note: this was started beeeefore the latest update? actually started it before uni but then didn't get back to it till recently oTL

The thronging crowds of shoppers press in around him, making it harder for him to traverse through the crowd. Still, Lilia tries his best to shove his way past them, twisting his shoulders and ploughing through any gaps he can find. On instinct, one hand reaches up to pull down the hood of his cloak, masking his face further; it isn’t as though he’s in any danger here, or wanted in any capacity, but one should always exercise caution while exploring the boundaries of a black market.

For as long as Lilia can remember, he’s been searching for an old friend of his since the end of the war, travelling to different corners of the world in hopes of finding some inkling of his existence. Such a quest has brought him here, to a black market tucked away in the corner of a tiny island, but unfortunately for himself, Lilia has ended up empty-handed.

He’s trying to leave the area, pushing and shoving his way through the endless sea of patrons, when a sudden shrill cry stops him in his tracks. Lilia’s ears twitch. His head snaps to the side, following the source of the sound, only to come across a small group crowding around a rickety wooden stage. A tall man dressed in a patchwork suit jacket and a rumpled collared shirt talks to all of them, gesturing animatedly with his hands.

But it is what the man is gesturing at that snatches Lilia’s breath.

Because next to him, curled up in a too-small tank filled with muddied water, is a tiny little mer. Little tendrils of its tail tangle together as the creature presses thin fingers against the glass panes of the tank, auroral eyes flicking from side to side with a fervent desperation that Lilia feels in his soul. It is too young to be here, too small; Why in the name of the Thorn Fairy is this child here?

And for some reason, against the logic that tells him he should turn and leave, return to the Valley and carry on with his next mission, his next search, Lilia finds himself stepping towards the stage instead. He slips through the mob with silent steps, eyes fixated upon the petrified mer — a jellyfish, he recognises, his knowledge of aquatic animals rising to mind.

Within a matter of seconds, Lilia has gotten close enough that he catches wind of what the man is saying: “—a beauty, isn’t it?” he crows, tapping a dirty fingernail against the tank, causing the little mer child to shrink away. “We caught it out on the sea this mornin’, and we ain’t gonna let it go for anythin’ less than two thousand thaumarks!”

Disgust chokes his throat like a slimy wad of muck. How utterly deplorable, Lilia thinks, a rare flash of anger sparking through him. He still does not understand what has drawn him so much to this strange creature — the mer with dull silver hair who hugs itself, little bubbles floating through the water as its gills flutter, so impossibly tiny and small—

…Ah. He understands now.

In some way, looking upon this child, Lilia is reminded of Malleus. His mind whisks him back to a different time, when he had been tasked with raising the boy through his infant years, his childhood years, until he matured enough that Lilia no longer needed to keep an eye on him at all times. Is it no wonder, then, that his heart seizes at the sight of this blatant mistreatment? Regardless of whether the creature is fae or not — and it is not, evidently a child of the sea — it does not deserve to be sealed away like this.

Lilia could very well afford the mer. Two thousand thaumarks is quite the sum, but for someone who has been in the service of Briar Valley’s royalty for centuries like he has, he has more than enough money to afford it. But at the sight of the sleazy seller, who reeks of rotting fish and keeps toying with the child — banging his fists against the glass, sticking his grimy hand inside to grab its fragile wrist and yank it partially out of the dirty saltwater, yelling loud enough that its fins press against its head, clearly terrified—

The mer’s eyes flick towards him, locking with Lilia’s gaze. A fervent desperation flickers within them. It presses its hand against the glass again, scrabbling against the surface. A silent plea for help — and one that Lilia shall answer in the only way he knows how.

When night falls, Lilia strikes.

The auction for the jellyfish mer has been scheduled for tomorrow – a greedy move on the part of the fisherman selling it, to maximise profits as much as possible by drumming up heaps of attention. But it had worked; by the time evening fell and the terrified little child had been carted away to a dinky tent nearby, a sizable crowd of murmuring buyers had formed. Lilia had caught sight of some of them flipping through their stacks of thaumarks, counting their funds carefully.

He only has one shot at this. He has to make it count.

Closing his eyes, Lilia allows his magic to cloak him like a thin veil over his skin, shielding him from view. Stealth is his best option here; while he is more than capable of slaughtering everyone involved in kidnapping that young mer, Lilia does not wish to bloody his hands any more than he has to. His days of bloodshed and violence are long behind him, and as much as he wishes to teach the mer’s kidnappers a lesson, he figures that losing the child shall be punishment enough for them.

Besides, it wouldn’t do good if word got out that the general of Briar Valley was off slaughtering humans in another country.

With silent steps, Lilia steals past the guard — a man who keeps dozing off, jolting upwards every few seconds — and slides into the tent with scarcely a whisper. The interior is dank and dim; there is another guard there, this one alert and awake, arms crossed as he surveys the dirty tank left on the floor nearby.

A crushing feeling overtakes his heart at the sight of the mer. The young child curls into itself, tucking its chin into its chest, floating tufts of hair shielding its eyes from view. It looks lifeless, the only sign of its survival being the faint fluttering of gills. Something in his chest twists at the sight, a certainty settling within him. Lilia knows that what he is doing is right.

With the flick of a wrist, he conjures a small mist of magic, watching as it wafts over to the guard and swirls around him. Within a matter of seconds, though he fights to stay awake, the man has passed out, collapsing onto the ground — and it is only Lilia’s reflexes that allow him to cushion the fall, more from the need to avoid attracting attention than any care for the man. Slowly, he lowers him to the ground before releasing the invisibility spell, brushing off his hands on his cloak as he turns back towards the tank to see—

Wide eyes, hued with shades of baby blue and lavender and pink, gaze at him from behind muddied glass. Fingers press against the tank, and Lilia winces at the sound of a warbling trill.

In a flash, he darts forward, pressing a finger against his lips. “Shh!”

But he is too late.

Even as the child slaps its tiny webbed hands over its mouth, eyes widening as it realises what it has done, Lilia knows the guard outside must have heard it. There’s a creaking sound, heavy footsteps dragging across the ground, accompanied by a languid sigh, and it is only his quick reflexes, honed after years and years of war, that allow him to escape notice.

In a flash, Lilia has flung himself upwards, clinging to a corner of the tent, tucking himself in as closely as possible. If he’d had more time, he’d have thrown the same invisibility spell over himself but alas. All he can do is shrink back as much as possible, limbs wrapped around one of the poles holding the tent upright, and praying that the guard is stupid enough to not notice the shadow he’s casting across the floor.

He holds his breath, watching as the burly figure enters the tent.

“Oi,” the guard grunts sharply, narrowing his eyes at the mer in the tank — who thankfully avoids glancing over to Lilia, smart enough to avoid betraying his location. He ambles up to the tank before glancing off to the side. The man stiffens, having found the slumbering body of his fellow guard. “What the—”

Alright, that’s enough of that.

With the same spell he’d casted earlier, Lilia knocks out the second guard. The only caveat is that this time, the guard falls to the ground with nothing to cushion his landing, smashing into a nearby crate with a rather loud CRASH!

Lilia flinches, adrenaline igniting his veins. Dropping from the pole, he barely spares the scene a glance, racing back to the mer instead and lifting the heavy glass lid off its tank. “Can you breathe outside of the water?” he asks, constantly glancing over his shoulder for any signs of someone coming in, ears pricking as he strains to hear the barest bit of sound. As soon as the mer nods, Lilia’s reaching into the briney water as the mer raises its arms, thanking the fact that he’s wearing thick cloth and gloves, if only for the fact that the mer’s tendrils wrap around his limbs as he lifts it out and cradles it close to his chest. “Stay quiet,” he hisses, using his other hand to conjure the same spell from earlier, hoping it’ll hold through. “The last thing we want is to attract any unwanted attention.”

They slip out of the tent just before someone else arrives — another one of the fisherman’s nameless cronies, with the fisherman himself ambling after in ragged loungewear. Lilia holds his breath, skulking beneath the shadow of a tree, each step careful and calculated; he would teleport if he could, but he isn’t sure how that would affect the child, weakened and frail as it is.

So he sneaks away slowly and steadily, leaving the commotion behind, the pitching screams and demands for everyone to search for the missing mer, to get their product back — such an inhumane term that it makes Lilia want to puke. And the further he gets away, the faster he gets; before long, he’s sprinting, the spell melting off of him, out of distance from the captors for now.

The mer clings to him, snuggling close. Lilia holds it tight against him like a lifeline, a swell of such fervent protectiveness rising within him, washing over his mind and soul.

“Here we are,” Lilia breathes. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. Ah, he is certainly growing old, more winded from this than he would have been in his prime. His boots dig deep gouges into the sand as he walks towards the shoreline, the night’s sky twinkling overhead, reflecting in the waves to form a sea of stars.

Initially, he’d headed straight for the nearest beach he could think of, all before arriving and already spotting a small group of stragglers searching around. It had taken much longer to travel to a different corner of this island, but it had been a necessary precaution in the end; the last thing Lilia wanted was for the mer to get recaptured after being returned to the sea.

The waves lick at his boots as he walks into the ocean, far enough that the water reaches his knees. “There you go,” Lilia says kindly as he leans down, pulling the little mer away from his chest, returning it to the sea. A soft smile spreads across his lips as he watches the child reach for the water before plunging in with a splash, its form a tiny shadow amidst the lapping waves before its head breaks back above the water.

“Isn’t that better now?” Lilia croons, a warmth wrapping around his heart as the mer nods eagerly, beaming brightly at Lilia, the moonlight shining down on its silver hair. “Good, good,” Lilia says, slowly straightening up. He yawns, stretching his arms above his head, a cracking noise accompanying the motion. “Oh, I hadn’t expected to do this much today,” he murmurs to himself before shaking his head. Giving the mer one last smile, Lilia says, “You take care of yourself now, hm? Don’t go getting caught in any nets again, khee hee.”

And that would have been the end of everything. Ideally, Lilia would have stepped out of the water, using his magic to dry himself off before teleporting to the pier at the other side of the island and waiting for the first ferry to start him on his journey home. The mer would have been relegated to little more than a story to recite to Malleus upon his return, a thrilling rescue he’d mounted in the midst of what would have been another ordinary trip.

But what Lilia didn’t account for was that the child would get attached.

Before he can even make it a few steps away, there’s a rapid-fire outburst of frantic trills and clicking before something heavy barrels right into his legs. Lilia stumbles, losing his balance and crashing down with a screech and a mighty splash. Water soaks through his clothes, his cloak; Lilia spits some of it out of his mouth, blinking the salt out of his eyes, all while something curls around his leg tightly, refusing to let go.

“Little one…” Lilia stares at the mer child, its arms wrapped around his leg, squeezing with a vice grip that a lesser human would not have been able to withstand. Where was all this strength while you were trapped? Lilia ponders briefly, before dismissing the thought. He leans forward, gently prying webbed fingers away from his pants, pulling the child off of him. “Your home is here,” Lilia insists, gesturing at the sea around them. “I live elsewhere; I cannot possibly stay.”

Another round of distressed clicking and trilling. The mer stares at him with big, pleading eyes, swimming forward between his legs to cling to the front of Lilia’s shirt. “Little one—” Lilia tries again, because how can he stay? He has a place to return to, obligations to attend to, people waiting for him. But the mer child ignores him, pressing itself against Lilia with a stubborn determination that surprises him.

“Surely your family should be coming to find you soon,” Lilia tries, only to be met with the shaking of a head, silver hair slicked against its forehead. He raises an eyebrow. “An orphan?” Lilia mutters — words intended for his ears only, except he knows the mer has heard him from the way its grip on him tightens. “But— dear, I cannot possibly bring you home. I live very far away from here, and not anywhere particularly close to the sea!”

But no matter how hard Lilia tries to protest, to gently push the mer off of him, to leave it here — because this is its home, here in the sea; what will become of it, if Lilia were to smuggle it into the Valley, bring it on such a lengthy journey? — it refuses to go. And as time ticks by, the hours passing until the sunrise begins to bleed on the horizon, Lilia finally concedes.

“What a headstrong child you are,” Lilia muses, ignoring the sopping wet cloth clinging to him as he stumbles out of the sea, giggling mer child held in his arms. He gazes at it— no, him, at the child in his hold. “Do you have a name, little one?”

The mer blinks at him. “I’ll take that as a no,” Lilia sighs. Ah… what could a good name possibly be? It’s something he ponders over during the entire trip back, using his magic to mimic a glamour over the mer such that everyone shall see him as only a human child.

But it’s not until he’s sitting in his cabin late at night with the mer curled in his arms that it hits him. Moonbeams streak through the porthole, reflecting off the boy’s shimmering hair, washing it in a silvery light.

“Silver,” Lilia decides, testing the name out on his tongue to find that it feels right.

Silver, this mer he rescued by chance, the one who clung to him, who didn’t want to let go. Silver, who is his.

Leaning back in his chair, Lilia closes his eyes and smiles.

#my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #writing requests #twst #twisted wonderland #spoilers are VERY minimal. one line. but just to be safe #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #twst fanfiction #twst writing #one down seven to go #i usually have more witty tags here but i'm tired tonight ahfndhfgdg

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rabdoidal · 2 years

Photo

She sought him up She sought him down Ran with the speed and sorrow She found him ‘neath a bush of broom In the dowie dens of Yarrow

Her hair it was five quarters long The colour, it was yellow And she tied it to his middle small And pull him out of Yarrow

neverafter OC just dropped - she’s based on the main character from child ballad 214 and the song yarrow covered by red tail ring - its a story about a beautiful woman rejecting nine wealthy suitors in favour of marrying her true love, a plough boy, and how the suitors murdered him on the banks of the yarrow river - the main character found him and cut her hair in order to weave a rope to pull his body out of the water.

i thought itd be an interesting character for neverafter, as i feel like with most ‘dark fairytale’ adaptation, they focus on turning happy stories into sad stories, but for stelitzia, her story is a tragedy, and her journey is in rediscovering herself and finding new purpose after experiencing a great loss - so now shes seeking revenge, comradery, and folk tales to turn into songs for her harp

🪢 kofi link in bio if you’re feeling generous 🪢

#my art #doodles #neverafter #dimension 20 #ocs #d20 #yarrow #child ballad 214

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drenosa · 3 months

Text

Inspired by an oc of @evenmorefatallyobsessed (mild nfsw alert btw)

Neptune: *Holding up a dating app on a Scroll in front of Sun, swiping either left or right at the Monkey Faunus' direction* Look, sometimes you got to take some drastic measures to get over a girl. Sure, you're saying you're happy to just be friends with Blake, but that doesn't mean you have to forget about your needs.

Sun: *Listening with half-a-mind* Sure... Left. Left. ... Right. Left. Ooh, Deffo Right. Says she also likes to use her tail for ~fun~.

Neptune: Yeah, you're getting it. Don't worry, bud. This Certified Lady's Man will help you get your groove!

Sun: *Pausing his swiping to give Neptune a pointed look* Certified, huh?

Neptune: *Coughs slightly* Ye-yes, now come on. Just a few more.

Sun: Uh-huh... Left. Right. Left. Left. ... !!! *Snatches the Scroll out of a surprised Neptune's hand* Oh, Right to the Hells to the Yeah! Bona-Fide Major MILF!

Neptune: Woah, seriously?! Lemme see, lemme see! *Grabs the Scroll back*

Sun: Never saw an office jacket and pencil skirt look THAT good before. And on an ass like that?! Gawd DAYUM!

Neptune: No way, someone look that good for you to... to- *Stares at the Scroll in abject shock and horror* Ah... fuck.

Sun: *Blinking away his surprise at Neptune's reaction* Whu... what, she got some super red flags or something?

Neptune: Uh... Yeah?! Holy hell, that's my Mom!

Sun: ...

Neptune: ...

Sun: Bitch. Would! *Starts climbing over the table to get at the Scroll and Neptune* Gimme that scroll back! I got to message her ASAP!

Neptune: Hell no! *Shoving a hand in Sun's face to keep him away* Back off, motherfucker! This shit ain't gonna happen!

Sun: *Smushed face* Fwuf hoo! ma honna bu a mahafaha fu wheel! Himme! [Fuck you! I'm gonna be a motherfucker for real! Gimme!]

Neptune: *Using multiple limbs to keep Sun away* Bros before hoes, dick-weasel! My mom ain't no hoe fo' sho'!

Sun: *Face unsmushed, trying his hardest to reach the promised land that is his Scroll* Imma weasel my dick into her! My hoe will plough her fields something fierce. Now give my Scroll back!

Neptune: That's a no from me, Bitch!

Neptune&Sun: *Start wrestling WWE-style*

~~~~~~~~~~

Yang: *Seated with Blake not far from the SeaMonkey Bros* So... that guy at one point, huh?

Blake: *Mildly embarrassed at the short-lived crush* At one point, yes.

Yang: *Grinning bemusedly* Certainly a catch that slipped away. Can't believe I got reeled in instead.

Blake: *Elbows Yang in the ribs* Shush you. I can still do a catch-and-release with you.

Yang: Hehe. Love you too, Blakey.

Blake: *Muttering* You better.

#rwby #rwby shitpost #neptune vasilias #sun wukong #oc #ariel vasilias #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumbleby

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diejager · 3 months

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Johnny with a s/o that shy in the streets but a freak in the streets. She loves giving pleasure, doing anything he wanted. (Love your work)

Cw: smut, bdsm, rope, cuckholding, orgasm denial, sensory deprivation, collaring, puppy play, nipple play, rimming, pegging, anal fingering, riding, anal sex, dom!reader, sub!Soap, tell me if I missed any.

“She’s a shy thing,” were the first words Price used to describe you when Soap brought you to the base for a visit.

You were glued to him on your short visit, yours softer hands locked between his calloused ones, clinging to him like a lost puppy after finding the perfect caretaker. You spoke with a hushed tone, eyes finding interest on the ground or the dirtied boots they wore so often that it felt like second skin, and smiled shyly. It was a small but adorable grin that made Soap’s heart throb with adoration.

You were a shy creature with people you didn’t know, preferring to keep to yourself - he knew that - but he’d gushed so often about his team and how’d you like them as much as he spewed about his lovely life with you in his arms, welcoming him in the best ways possible when he was off. You nodded at everything Gaz said, flashing him a little smile that made Soap so happy that you got along with them despite your insistence of sticking to his side. You listened intensely to everyone talk, small greetings and formalities before they got to the nitty-gritty of knowing each other. Even Ghost, Soap’s stubborn friend, had broke down and shared a bit about himself.

But Price was wrong, he was farthest from the truth about you being a shy thing in a whole. You were - in simplest words - a freak. When he expected you to be as soft and tender as you were in the kitchen, dining room or cuddling in his arms, you were a beast in bed, a wild and dangerous thing that left him panting and wanting without a lick of release if you felt particularly cruel. Truly, you were a bit timid, a loving person and the best he could ask to have as a lover, but you were also the strongest person he’s ever known.

You could have him on his knees and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, lapping at your feet with his ass arched up like a birch in heat —he might as well be with how much he listened to you, letting you tie him up and string him however you wanted. You had him at every beck and call, a quick whistle from you and he’d come bouncing around the corner and into bed, stripped and prone for any manhandling from you. You would tie him to the headboard in the softest rope you could find, promising that you’d take care of him and that he was so pretty when he was restrained, his cock hard and angry between his legs, twitching and throbbing with precious pre rolling down his engorge head from the black cock ring.

Sometimes you’d wrap a soft lace over his eyes, blinding him from seeing your after you strip teased him, leaving him writhing and panting around his ring gag. You denied him his release, testing him with every teasing touch over his sensitive nipples - he always was more reactive when blindfolded, depending on his touch to feel and understand the world around him - pinching and pulling at the piercings he impulsively got. You’d ride him to tears, wetting the blindfold in a darker shade, using his body as a vessel for your pleasure, fondling with his heavy balls or pulling his perky nipples until he milked him dry of cum, leaving his cock spurting thin ropes of water cum.

Other times you had him on a leash, a red collar wrapped around his neck that gave you leverage whenever you pegged him, splitting him in two on the thick strap on you wore to plough into him. All that led up to it was an extensive hour of foreplay that left him needily barking at you. You had him collared, on his knees and elbows, back arched and rutting back against your lube-soaked fingers. He moaned when you rimmed him, circling the wrinkled ring of his ass and feeling it twitch around the tail you plugged him with to ready him for a night of debauchery and pleasure. Foreplay: stretching him with your fingers and tapping his prostrate to loosen him up, and care were important part of your book, you vowed to care about your “cute pup”.

“Aye, ” Soap nodded, throwing an arm around you and pulling you closer by the hip, “Aren’t ye, hen?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

#cod mw2 #x reader #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap stim #soap smut #soap cod #soap x reader smut #cod smut #soap mw3 #Soap x reader #female!reader #Dom!reader #sub!soap

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konigsblog · 6 months

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puppy! soap & reader and owner! simon will always have me in a chokehold.

so what if it was the day of simon adopting us and he brought us home? how would soap react to a new female puppy in the house? we all know he basically uses ghost as a fucktoy by grinding on his thigh and leg, but he absolutely looses all common sense when he sees us. if you thought he was horny before, it’s a whole other LEVEL now!

tw: dubcon (coercion), hybrid (dog-human), pet play

at first, pup!soap didn't appreciate this one bit. he took it as simon saying he was fed up getting humped, leaving johnny to whine and whimper. i mean- yes, simon didn't like having to buy new pairs of jeans often because johnny kept cumming all over them, but he wasn't sick of that dumb pup yet...

when simon trained you, it made things worse. with johnny purposely making himself a bad influence on you because of jealousy about the attention you were getting. you cowered away from johnny when simon locked you two together in a cage at nighttime, knowing that johnny didn't appreciate your presence at all...

he spat on you, tugged on your collar with his shape canines and made sure he had you crying. this wasn't a good method, as simon would coddle and pet you like he would with johnny, glaring at the other dog in the cage for making you upset. ruffling your ears and tail so you could sleep peacefully between his thighs.

eventually, simon denied johnny to hump him, or use him as a fucktoy. saying that it was punishment for being horrible. and the longer his orgasm was denied, the more horny he got — the more depraved. he'd sob for simon's help, lying about you hurting him in the hopes that maybe simon would fuck the sadness out of him.

did it work? well, of course, it didn't. so johnny, being desperate, fucked you instead. he told you it was a learning thing, that you had to do it. coercing you so that you were on your back and sliding into your cunt. god, he absolutely lost himself. ploughing and rutting into you while you mewled and whined.

now you were his new fucktoy...

simon was so disappointed, deciding that he'd fuck you infront of johnny to punish and torture him. crouched down over your figure that was bent into doggy style. he fucked you, gripping your collar from behind. slow, hard thrusts driving you crazy. his dick was huge, leaving you moaning for more as johnny weeped and mounted his blankets for friction as his dick only got harder and his tip only got wetter...

“tha’s what ya’ get for bein’ a bad dog, johnny...”

#orla speaks #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost call of duty #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod soap #soap call of duty #soap x reader smut #soap x reader x ghost #ghoap x reader #ghoap #ghost x reader x soap #simon ghost x reader

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nottheeconomy · 3 months

Text

Meet my Stardew valley farmer OC! The one! The only! *Post Mortem*!

Yeah that name really didn’t bode well with grandpa, senior Mortem. Don’t worry though! Young Mr Mortem is here to take care of the farm!

Me Mortem in his clip-on twin tail extensions and spiky choker, working the plough in the fields

I like to think that he gave Lewis a mini heart attack when he had to welcome him to the valley!

Hahahahahhahahahahahahhaha

I got into Stardew recently and I’ve been really enjoying the game! Alas, as a mobile player I’ll have to wait a while for 1.6

The caves though

The caves beckon me

I must dig deeper

120 floors aren’t enough

#stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew sebastian #stardew morris #the economy is producing #First time drawing out an OC like this #Oh to stay at home and Stardew #I don’t want to leave my houseeeeeeeeeeee

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metalhoops · 1 year

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Steddie Week Day 2:

Bittersweet / Fluff and/or angst/ Fade to Black Metallica

There are some people you could know for a day and feel as though you’d known them for a lifetime. Eddie Munson was one of those people. At least, as far as Steve was concerned.

If they’d been different people at different times, he and Eddie could’ve known each other for a small lifetime. There were daydreams in the months after his death where Steve imagined a world where they’d grown up together. In a way, they had grown up together or at least, they’d grown up in each other’s periphery.

Steve thought about Eddie more in his death than he had in his life. He remembered all the parts of their parallel childhoods he’d wished he could forget.

He was twelve when Eddie first moved to Hawkins. He’d sported oversized shirts and jeans with holes in the knees. He’d been so small back then. They’d been the same height, but Steve had adapted the habit of taking up space at an early age. Eddie wouldn’t gain the knack for another three years.

The following summer, Eddie shaved his head. Steve had been resting on the grass outside the town pool, Tommy at his elbow, when he noticed the boy pass his way, likely heading for the library down the street.

Eddie never seemed like much of a swimmer, though he had managed to brave the blackness of Lovers’ Lake to save his ass, so maybe Steve was assuming. There were parts of Eddie’s past that’d forever be a mystery to him.

“Who’d have thought the freak shaving his mane would make him look more like a girl,” Tommy had commented, in the way of a teenage boy who only knew how to be big by making others feel small.

Steve tilted his head back and found his eyes locked with the kid, the freak, Eddie Munson. The cut made his wide brown eyes look bigger and his features rounder. He almost looked pretty.

“Careful, he might have a thing for you, Steve. Creep’s staring long enough,” Tommy jeered, loud enough for Eddie to hear. The kid shrunk back into himself and kept walking.

Steve lay back in the grass, examining Tommy’s freckled face for a moment before sliding on his sunglasses. Even then, he’d known Tommy was an asshole.

“You stare at me all the time, Hagen. You got something you wanna share with the class.”

Steve hadn’t meant anything by it. He never thought before he spoke. An offhanded bitchy comment had been a dime a dozen back in those days. Tommy usually knew how to roll with the punches, but not with that.

He heard a muffled chuckle drift downwind on the breeze, trailing in Eddie’s wake.

“I’m not a queer, Harrington,” Tommy spat, too fast, too defensive.

“Never said you were. All I was saying is I keep feeling like I’ve got shit on my face when you’re around, how much you stare.”

“Shit on your face would be an improvement from your ugly ass mug,” Tommy mumbled before laying back down beside Steve, whatever strange tension that’d passed between them long since gone.

He and Eddie wouldn’t cross paths again in a noticeable way until Steve’s life went to shit. Eddie and Steve ran in similar circles when it came to parties. The guy was always hanging on the periphery. Nancy, the one person holding Steve’s life together in any meaningful manner up until that point, called him bullshit, and he’d turn tail and ran.

Even now he wasn’t sure why he’d done it. His insides had twisted into a ball of twine at the base of his gut, and he hadn’t decided if he wanted to punch something or burst into tears. He didn’t know which response was preferable. He’d run out the back door straight into Eddie Munson of all people. He’d ploughed right into the man’s chest. He’d smelled of cigarette smoke and weed.

“Woah, Harrington. Where’s the fire?” Eddie spoke, his hands held up in a placating manner. Steve hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone, but in retrospect, he wished he’d stayed.

Instead, he’d set his eyes on his shoes and shoved his way past Eddie, not wanting the boy to see him cry. If he’d stayed, it could’ve been the start of something. If he’d just talked to Eddie, maybe they would’ve had more time together. Even if in every story, in every lifetime, Eddie was destined to die in the spring of 1986, they would’ve had a few good years.

Then there was the time they’d skipped gym, a few days after Billy Hargrove did a number on his face. Steve hadn’t planned on skipping. He sure as hell didn’t want to be there with Billy kicking him while he was down, but skipping hadn’t crossed his mind. Eddie had other plans.

They’d been running a warm-up lap around the basketball court when it happened. For once, Steve was sticking to the back of the pack, trying to keep his head down and keep the hell out of the new King of Hawkins’ High’s way.

To his surprise, Eddie Munson was at his side in a flash, running shoulder to shoulder with him as though this were a current occurrence, as though they were born to run beside each other. Their strides were the same length, and they ran in tandem.

Eddie had done some growing up. He’d learnt how to make himself seem bigger, and Steve was trying desperately not to stand out. By that time, they’d grown into each other. It’d been a good time for them to become friends. They wouldn’t, but if Steve were to choose any day, that would be the one they’d come closest.

“Harrington, follow my lead,” Eddie spoke in a breathless whisper.

Before Steve had the chance to ask what was going on, the boy careened into him, sending them both tumbling to the court floor.

“Son of a bitch,” Eddie cursed. The thud of two bodies colliding and Eddie’s overdramatised wail drew the attention of the coach.

Eddie cradled his ankle and continued to curse. Steve looked at the boy with wide-eyed alarm.

“You okay?” He asked, moving closer, resting his hand on Eddie’s knee. His elbow smarted from where he’d landed but with the rest of his body in near-constant pain from Billy’s beating, one more small ache didn’t make much difference.

Eddie looked up for long enough to shoot Steve a wink and a shit-eating grin before attempting to get up. His ankle buckled, and he toppled back to the floor.

“I think it's sprained,” Eddie observed.

“Munson, go to the nurse’s office. Harrington, make sure he doesn’t kill himself on the way,” the coach spat, sick of the theatrics. Steve blinked owlishly at Eddie before nodding and slinging the boy’s arm over his shoulder, guiding him into the hall.

“My hero,” Eddie chuckled when they were out of earshot.

Steve rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist cautiously.

“There’s gotta be a better way to get out of gym than breaking your own ankle,” Steve observed, only to be on the receiving end of one of Eddie’s manic fits of laughter. He pulled back from Steve and put his full weight on his ankle, walking as smoothly as ever.

“All an act, Harrington. Drama is the only subject my ass is acing. I was just going to do a runner like I do every day, but you looked too miserable to leave alone.”

Steve blinked disbelievingly at Eddie.

“Why would you help me?” Steve had been a grade-A asshole to people like Eddie for most of his life. He hadn’t been able to fathom why the boy had noticed his mood and decided to do something about it.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eddie smirked and nudged Steve’s shoulder as the two continued down the hall. Steve still couldn’t understand why Eddie had done it. Now, Eddie was dead, so he’d never know.

Steve didn’t have to imagine what Eddie looked like dying. He’d seen it. He’d kneeled beside the boy, listened to Dustin’s sobs and went pale-faced when he’d seen how many pieces of Eddie were missing.

He could hardly remember what he’d said to Eddie. He’d covered the boy’s wounds as best he could, attempted to move Dustin back from the massacre at their feet and tried to keep Eddie calm. He kept telling the boy he was going to be okay, all the while knowing he was lying.

He kept trying to move Eddie, but every time he did, the boy would scream in pain and the growing pool of blood would swell. There was so much blood under the red sky that it looked like the earth itself was bleeding. Steve felt like the world was cracking in two with the idea of losing the boy he’d hardly gotten to know, yet one he also knew so well.

“Steve,” He’d recalled Eddie saying, his voice strangely calm for the situation. Steve reminded himself of Eddie’s A in drama, of his acting prowess.

“You remember that afternoon in gym, when you pretended to sprain your ankle and we spent the day smoking under the bleachers?” Steve recalled, trying to keep him distracted.

Eddie gave a small smirk. It was the same smug grin he’d shot Steve’s way half a dozen times across the almost decade they’d half-known each other. This time, his teeth were tinged with blood.

“Yeah, I remember,” Eddie spoke, his voice too strained, his too-long hair caked in dirt and blood.

“How do I look right now?” Steve asked as he desperately tried to hold together Eddie’s bleeding side.

He pulled the boy to his feet, placing his shoulder under Eddie’s armpit. Steve wasn’t sure when they’d learned to speak the same language, but somehow Eddie knew what he wanted to say.

“Miserable,” Eddie mused, wincing as Steve tried to drag him. He attempted to pull Eddie into his arms, but he couldn’t get a good grip, his fingers slipping, still sticky with blood.

“Then don’t leave me alone,” Steve hissed, pressing his face against the boy’s hair, trying and failing to gain any real traction.

Steve had never wanted anything so badly as he’d wanted to save Eddie.

Steve had never been so certain someone was going to die.

He felt Eddie’s hand reach up blindly, his eyes glazed over, looking without seeing. Steve dipped his head, placing his cheek into the boy’s palm, seeming to know what Eddie had hoped to do.

“My hero,” He breathed, this time with no hint of sarcasm. Eddie’s hand dropped from his face as a leaf drops from a tree come fall.

Unlike every other moment in Eddie’s life, his death was quiet.

#steddieweek2023 #steddieweekprompts #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #steddie ficlet #stranger things #bittersweet #angst #day 2 #tw homophobia #I think this is the first fic #I've ever actually written with Eddie's death #I'm still in denial #metalhoops writes

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theroseceleste · 2 months

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Helping Miguel Unwind - Part 2

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This is part 2 of Helping Miguel Unwind. Please read part 1 before reading this one. : )

Enjoy!

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Before long, all three spider people were where the anomaly was located. Using her index and middle fingers, she swiped screens around in order to keep an eye on the mission. Cordelia was able to see all three of their perspectives and also monitor their vitals. Her main point of interest was Miguel’s; the numbers showed that his heart rate was faster than the other two. A frown grew on Cordelia's face as she watched with concern. The man had been pushing himself to extremes lately, not letting himself rest or allowing time for much selfcare.

The anomaly seemed to be an alternative version of Rhino from another universe; a brute of a villain but mostly dim-witted. Cordelia watched as he charged full speed towards the three spider people, however they separated in time to avoid being hit.

The location seemed to be in an abandoned warehouse, which was helpful - Rhino seemed to be one of the more destructive villains… There weren’t any civilians around, and it wouldn’t look too suspicious if a derelict, abandoned warehouse developed more crumbled walls and structural damage.

Both the Rhino and the team of spider people took heavy hits, one of which was Miguel being ploughed into a wall, making part of the building collapse on top of him. Cordelia knew that spider people were stronger but it still astonished her just how hard they can be hit and still get back up. She could hear Miguel growl angrily as he tossed aside several bricks covering him and patting off the dust on his suit.

Eventually Miguel landed one of his angry red webs on the Rhino; then swiftly spun round, yanking the tank of a villain; slamming him into another wall. The sound of creaking echoed around the building as its structure had been massively compromised since the mission began.

With the Rhino heavily subdued and restrained, Miguel, Jess and Peter dragged the anomaly through the portal. The Spider Society leader was the last to come through, followed by the almighty sound of the warehouse collapsing. “Mierda!” Miguel yelled as dust and debris came crashing through. He jabbed at his watch to close the portal quickly before more mess came spewing out of the portal. The swirling portal colours dissipated, leaving a pile of rubble in the middle of the floor. With annoyance, Miguel kicked a brick across the room and grumbled to himself before pinching the bridge of his nose and taking deep breaths. “Lyla; get someone to clean this mess up,” he ordered.

Cordelia felt it would be wise to give Miguel some space for a moment, but she kept a watchful eye on him over the next couple of hours.

As some time had passed, Miguel looked less like he was about to launch something across the room, but he still looked tense. For the first time in history, Miguel had grabbed a chair and sat down in the control room. Resting his elbows on his desk, his head buried in his hands as he breathed another heavy sigh.

With a slightly nervous ear twitch, Cordelia decided to make her second attempt to try and improve Miguel’s day.

Hearing her approach again, Miguel’s head turned slightly at the sound of Cordelia’s tail cuff running along the floor. He sighed heavily again, he wasn’t sure if he had the mental capacity to have a conversation with anyone. “You can take the rest of the day off if you like, Cordelia - I can take it from here.”

The half dragon’s eyebrows furrowed at his words and her heart sank. Resting her hands on the back of his chair; she envisaged herself reaching out and just delicately touching those tense, broad shoulders of his. “Maybe I don’t want to go just yet,” she replied, almost with a playful attitude.

“What? Why? Most people jump at the chance when I offer them some time off. Margo disconnected instantly when I said she could go,” he asked as he lifted his head from his hands and looked at her. It was then he realised her hands were resting on the back of his seat. His eyes then wandered up to her face, noticing that she looked concerned. “What’s that matter?”

“I’m worried about you, Miguel. You seem really… tense.”

With a nonchalant shrug, he turned away. “I’m fine.”

Cordelia’s frown grew at his response. “No, you’re not and I want to help.”

“How?” he snapped, turning to face her again; his eyes glared at her momentarily before softening. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away once more. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s not been a great day and I’m struggling to keep my cool.” Straightening his back as he sat in his chair; he shifted his weight slightly in an attempt to stretch out his muscles, but everything was too tense.

“I can help with that,” Cordelia’s hands itched to reach out for him, but she waited for a response.

“Help with what?” he paused, “my mood? Or this… damn back pain?” he responded, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably.

“I can start with your back, and then see how that affects your mood?” she suggested as a small smile spread across her face.

What has he got to lose? He was desperate to try anything at this point. Finally, he nodded. “Fine, go ahead. Whatever it is, do it.”

Gently, her hands lifted from the back of his chair and slowly rested on his shoulders. His body felt warm under his suit. It didn’t take long for him to react to her touch, flinching slightly. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being touched, at least in a gentle way.

“On second thought-”

“Just close those tired, angry eyes and breathe, will you?” Cordelia interjected.

“Fine…” Miguel growled and did his best to breathe in deeply as he began to feel her hands drift over his back.

As her fingers ran across his shoulders, she felt around for tight knots in his muscles. There were several, if not dozens. “Oh boy…” she commented as she discovered more.

“What is it?” his voice sounded full of concern.

“No wonder you’re in agony…” she replied as she settled on one of the many knots and slowly started to work on it using her thumbs.

To say that Miguel was sceptical about Cordelia massaging him was an understatement, but the moment he felt tension release from the knot she was working on, he couldn’t help but release a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He kept his head resting in his hands as he leaned against the desk; his eyes focused on one of his screens.

Slowly travelling across his back again, her soft dragon-scaled hands sought out another knot. Pressing her thumbs against it and running them in a circular motion, releasing more tension in his back. “You’re one really knotty guy,” she commented softly.

Miguel’s lips parted slightly as he felt the pain slowly ease away in that section of his back. A small groan escaped his lips, before suddenly clearing his throat to pretend he didn’t just make a noise.

A smile began to grow across Cordelia’s face as she heard his groan. Obviously what she was doing was starting to work for him. She refrained from teasing him however, as she was worried it might put him off and ask her to stop.

Over time, Cordelia removed a fair few knots over his shoulders and back. Then he felt her hands rise to the base of his neck. “A bit to your left, there’s some tension there,” he instructed her. As much as he wouldn’t want to admit it, he was beginning to enjoy this massage. It seemed this assistant was talented at finding and removing the tension in his back. He began to wonder if he could make this a regular thing, but thought that’d be ridiculous.

Following Miguel’s instructions, her hands drifted over to the left of his neck. Sure enough, there was a large knot. She could feel Miguel’s head tip further forward so she could have better access to it.

He could no longer resist. “Ah, that feels so good,” he groaned as he allowed his eyes to close at the sensation. “You’re going to make me fall asleep at this rate.”

A little chuckle filled the room as Cordelia smiled. Her hands located another knot and began pressing against it to loosen it up. “Would that be such a bad thing?” she asked sweetly as she leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

Feeling her warm breath against his ear, his eyes opened wide. He nearly pulled away; however, her touch felt exquisite and was helping him relax. His body rocked gently with each time she squeezed his muscles. Every second that passed, his body felt like it was melting away. The sound of another groan filled the room; he had stopped worrying about letting Cordelia know he was enjoying it. Melting further against his desk, he buried his head in his arms.

Staring at his gorgeous dark brown hair; her attention drawn particularly towards his curls at the back of his head, she found herself wanting to touch them. “How about a head massage?” her voice sounded hopeful.

There was a brief moment before his response. Cordelia thought that Miguel might have actually fallen asleep, but he eventually took in a breath to speak. “Honestly, I think I need anything you can give me after the day I’ve had.” His eyes were shut, his lips parted; feeling like he was in a dream-like state.

The feeling of fingers running through his hair almost made his eyes roll up into his head. Another groan emerged from his lips, however he was caught off guard when he felt Cordelia’s fingers grip his hair and tugged it gently. Opening his eyes again, he felt shocked by Cordelia’s actions, but not necessarily upset by it.

Picking up on Miguel’s reaction, she released his hair. “Was that too much?” she asked, a hint of caution in her voice. His hair felt so soft and she wished she could touch it more.

As he felt her hands resume massaging his scalp, he missed the sensation of his hair being tugged. “No, I just wasn’t prepared for it. It felt… good. Continue, please.” Slowly his eyes closed once more as he melted under her touch.

A smile grew across Cordelia’s face again after receiving the green light from Miguel. Her fangs made an appearance as she smiled brightly. Knowing that the stern Spider Society leader was feeling good because of her help, she felt a sense of pride wash over her. Not only that, he was allowing her to touch him in a more intimate way - something she thought would never be possible. Biting her lip, she collected some of his locks between her fingers and pulled gently once again, feeling an immediate response from Miguel.

“Ahhh…” his groans had become more of a moan now. Even his shoulders moved in response to the sensation. He was starting to feel something more than just relaxation. “Oh God, you’re… really good with that.”

Cordelia leaned further over his back, reaching more of his hair. Her fingers massaged more of his scalp before gripping his hair again and tugging once more.

A shudder ran through his body momentarily as he released another moan. “Ohh, God…” his voice sounded raspy as pleasure was starting to take hold.

Without saying a word, her hands separated. One hand went to the base of his skull and squeezed gently, while the other remained in his gorgeous locks and tugged them occasionally.

“Oh…” he sighed in response to how she changed things up again. His eyes were firmly closed as he felt more pleasure. Balling his hands into fists, he remained leaning forward against his desk. It looked like he was clutching imaginary bed sheets as the pleasure felt so intense.

Both of her hands were back in his hair. She scrunched her fingers up amongst his locks and tugged more firmly. She watched as his body rode out a wave of pleasure emanating from his scalp. Much like how a cat responds to its back being stroked, a ripple travelling down its body.

“Don’t… stop…” he muttered as his breath faltered more before moaning again.

Before tugging again, Cordelia cleared her throat to speak. “This is beginning to sound rather… um… sexual…”

His large frame flexed again while sitting in his chair in response to her tugging his hair. The definition of his muscles showing through his suit with each movement. “I don’t care… it’s just us here. Don’t stop… please,” he begged, desperation and need for more was clear in his voice.

Cordelia obliged and continued to work her magic on him. “If you ask nicely, we could make this more of a regular occurrence?” the half-dragon woman offered.

“Hmm… that sounds dangerous… but I like the idea of that - if you’re willing.”

Her hands continued to work on his scalp and in his hair. She couldn’t get over how soft his hair felt. The sight of it being messed up made it difficult for her to not giggle. “Of course I’d be willing; I’ve enjoyed this almost as much as you…” she whispered, leaning in and delivering a soft kiss against his cheek. To her surprise, she felt him lean into her as she did so.

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Part 3 will be uploaded tomorrow.

I hope you enjoyed today's instalment.

I do commissions! Helping Miguel Unwind was a free prize given away when I reached a milestone on Twitter. If you're interested, please check out my carrd.co or get in touch with me via email (on carrd.co) or on Tumblr or Twitter.

Every time I write, I feel I make improvements, and Helping Miguel Unwind was written a little while ago.

If you wish to support me on Twitter, below is my link.

Thanks again for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

Love, Rose Celeste xx

#atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #fanfic #fem reader #short story #smut #commisions open #oc x canon

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