admin-cock-creations - Tumblr blog

[admin-cock-creations]

Drops this sketch and runs

[admin-cock-creations]

Waxing Poetic

Fandom: Gravity Falls Pairing: College! Stanford Pines / Reader Summary: Stanford lets his thoughts wander, and he can't help but indulge himself a little when those thoughts instinctively come to you. Warnings: Recreational Drug Use

There weren’t many moments where Stanford allowed his thoughts to wander. And not just wander to thoughts of his next class or project but really and truly wander to things that itched at his mind in unscratchable ways. Such moments were often elusive to his grasp and took, laughably, a certain amount of concentration to achieve. Luck seemed to be his friend today; that itch came up again, and his roommate decided he needed the delicately balanced library environment to study, leaving Ford alone in their shared dorm.

The twin had absentmindedly waved over his shoulder to the leaving Fiddleford, nose too deep in his studies to truly take in the other’s words until he had been alone in the silence for nearly 15 minutes. As if some energy washed over him, Ford sat up straight at his desk, placing his book on the crowded surface and blinking his widened eyes like he’d been jolted into consciousness. Taking a moment to observe his surroundings, the man twisted side to side in his chair, relieving some of the tension in his back and making sure he was really and truly alone in the room. He’d surely be called a paranoid loon if someone saw him in his current state, but Stanford had fair reason to confirm the absence of his roommate.

Standing up, he quietly strode over to the door and flipped the lock to secure himself from someone barging in, letting out a shaky little breath of mixed emotion once he settled back at his desk.

Reaching over the piles of books, paperwork, and pencils, Ford nudged aside his curtains to tug open his window, giving himself a healthy little crack for air to flow through. His attention then turned to the desktop fan he kept at the corner of his workspace, adjusting it just so before flicking it on. He let the blades turn for a moment, watching in silence how the curtains fluttered with the airflow before nodding to himself and pulling open one of the many drawers in his desk.

College was a time for experimentation of all kinds, so it seemed only natural that Ford would end up trying the delights of recreational drug use at one point or another. Hell, he and Stan had snuck their first cigarettes back in their freshman year of high school, so he was no stranger to smoking. Of course, he hadn’t taken to cigarettes quite like Stanley had, though he had smoked at least a couple more in the years until this point in his life. Still, that didn’t mean Ford had separated himself from all forms of smoking. Fiddleford had shared his first time smoking marijuana, and while Fidds didn’t seem keen on having another go, Ford discovered he quite liked the sensation. It stilled some overworking part of his brain and allowed him a moment to breathe. Oftentimes, it even ended up helping him work better if he found himself in a slump caused by his methodical madness.

Fingers nudged aside some small containers of gummies and a Tupperware with a half-eaten cookie inside, deciding this wasn’t an occasion for edibles. He needed a proper smoke. Ford’s brows furrowed as he pulled out the drawer to its full depth, sorting through pencils and pens until he found what he was searching for: a neatly rolled blunt that had migrated to the back of the drawer. His matchbook was kept on his person as a habit now, having come across so many classmates asking for a light or needing it in his labs. It had become a familiar little weight in his pocket, and he was happy to pull it out and strike up a match as he held his blunt between his lips. The crack in the window and the fan made for a nifty flow of air that quickly swept up the evidence of Ford’s rule-breaking, grateful that the autumn breeze worked in his favor.

Leaning back in his chair, Ford let out a blissful sigh and a lungful of smoke, letting the warmth seep into his mind and body and relax the muscles he hadn’t even realized he was clenching. Thankfully there was an old cup of coffee nearby he could flick his ashes into, because he certainly didn’t feel like getting up again now that his joint was lit.

Slowly and mindlessly, Stanford smoked down his joint, finding himself in a delightful state of bliss when he was left with little more than a quarter of his original joint. He decided he didn’t need to smoke anymore today and was perfectly content with his current state, so he carefully snubbed out the embering end of the joint with full intentions of saving the rest for another time. For now, it rested between his fingers as Ford enjoyed the solace of his freed mind. His gaze was seemingly focused on his hand, but in truth, he was miles away, drifting peacefully until he blinked and came back into the present.

Now he was looking at the mostly spent joint, and his thoughts flowed easily to thoughts of you, his drug dealer. But you were more than just that. You were his classmate, his friend, a fellow intellectual, and someone he respected and admired, perhaps in a less than platonic way.

Ford had met you in an art course, something he had taken out of interest and to fill up a slot in his time. You sat next to one another during lectures, and it was almost instantly clear that you held a brilliance of your own. While Ford saw the world in numbers and equations, you saw it in shapes and colors, and it was so wonderfully enlightening and entertaining to share conversations with you just to get a glimpse of how your mind worked.

But even more than smart you were kind, and pretty. You had been the one who offered your ‘services’ to Ford, able to readily supply any type of marijuana product he could imagine, not to mention you baked an incredible infused cookie, so he didn’t feel so awkward about seeking out supply from a stranger he didn’t know. Sometimes, you even got high together, sharing edibles in the privacy of your own dorm while chatting and laughing to yourselves over a movie or TV show. Could he really be blamed for taking such a liking to you when you were so warm and genuine? The thoughts of you, despite their simplicity, quickly turned into fleeting moments of wondering that had a different and familiar kind of heat rising in Ford’s jeans.

Giving in to himself, Ford undid the button and zipper on his pants, shoving his thumbs under his waistband and lifting his hips just enough to tug his jeans and briefs partly down his thighs, exposing his hardening cock. He couldn’t help but wonder about less than pure things regarding you. He wondered what your lips would feel like against his, what you looked like under your clothes, how you’d look under him, how you’d sound whimpering his name.

“Sh-shit…”

Taking himself in hand, he began to work up a firm pace stroking his cock, the joint now free from his fingers and his opposite hand supporting the weight of his head with an elbow upon the desk. His brows furrowed, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, his intoxicated mind unchained and swarming with the lustful thoughts he normally did his best to keep tucked away.

He thought back to a moment in your dorm, where you’d both gotten high and found yourselves in uncontrollable fits of laughter over something he couldn’t remember now. You were literally falling all over each other, smiling and unworried about how your hands wandered and fought to support yourselves and the other person. You’d been so close, if he had tilted his head right you would have been kissing.

Ford suddenly whimpered, a leg kicking slightly as he found himself working up to a peak rather quickly. He couldn’t pick what thought of you to focus on, what memory to choose, what words to morph your voice into, but it seemed his own hungry mind had decided all that for him. In a vision of his own fantasy, you were sprawled beneath him on his bed, laid bare for his eyes and hands to take in, moaning and gasping in time with his stroking as if he were pounding into you.

“Ford… please…”

He’d heard you say that before, but never in a context like this, nothing so filthy. But now it was so easy to piece those words into the gaps of his mind, gritting his teeth and huffing as he bucked into his fisted hand until Ford finally found himself spilling his release across the floor. Panting and swallowing thickly, it took a few solid moments until he felt strength come back to his legs, forcing himself to stand up and begin cleaning up his mess and the remaining evidence of his smoke break before Fiddleford returned from the library.

Perhaps one day he’d have the nerve to admit his interest in you, but for now, he’d just enjoy your shared moments and the escapism of his mind.

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 14

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Engineer / Reader Summary: Date an Engie who loves and appreciates you. Warnings: N/A

The Mann Co. Wars were over and gone, with most of the general public still greatly unaware that such a war had gone on for so long. The remaining mercs had been paid their severance packages and bonuses based on their years of servitude and slipped back into their subjectively normal lives as if nothing had changed. A great deal of the former mercenaries on both teams kept in contact with one another, even forming a few support groups that regularly met around the globe. Some returned to husbands, wives, and families, while others were thrilled to experience the dating scene without the need to conceal their identity. Your darling husband was one such former mercenary.

Neither of you had been looking for a relationship, and you’d quite literally stumbled into one another at the local fair the year after the liquidation of Mann Co. Joseph had been in the livestock barn admiring the animals set to be shown, and you’d been repairing the sprinkler system that kept the critters cool in the festering summer heat. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking, and you were just trying to get down from your ladder. Thankfully the two of you only tumbled into a nearby hay wheelbarrow full of feed and not something worse, and you’d both gotten a laugh out of the fumble, but he still insisted on making it up to you somehow.

You started spending your time together at the fair that day, staying to watch the animals be shown and discussing which Joe should purchase for his ranch. He’d come expecting to leave with just a heifer or two, maybe a young bull, but ended up purchasing a few more fine animals he couldn’t resist. You certainly came in handy when you offered to help him haul the animals back, given that you’d brought your trailer to the fair, too. Now he was left needing to doubly repay you.

You weren’t sure how much time passed until he officially asked you out, much less when he kissed you for the first time, but the flow of time continued until you eventually found yourself with matching rings on your hands and sharing the comfort of a home.

It was quite the crisp fall day for the Midwest, and Joseph had been out most of the day, working away on repairing his tractor before winter came. You had been dutifully tending to the animals and your kitchen garden, gently checking in on your husband once in a while but knowing better than to interrupt when he got deep into his machines. Especially when it looked like he was about to take this one apart piece by piece.

You wouldn’t have guessed it, but Joseph was actually less intensely invested in his work than you thought, and that was greatly in part thanks to you. Were he still at Mann Co. he’d be throwing and kicking things by now, but something about your sheer nature had seeped some kind of gentleness into the very fibers of his being, and while he was very annoyed, he was still level-headed about his tractor project. You checked on him one last time, dropping off a thermos of warm coffee before returning to the house. He couldn’t help but smile as he listened to the front door, noting the pause of the screen door swinging shut that signaled you letting in the old tomcat.

Both of you lost track of time as the day continued, you lost in the preparation of dinner and some little chores around the house while Joe remained outside. Finally, you stepped back out onto the porch, standing at the top step as you wiped your hands on your apron and called for your husband across the field.

“Josie! Supper’s just about done!”

Joseph let out a heavy sigh as he wiped his own hands on a grease-stained rag, placing his tools away back in his toolbox before hefting himself up from the dirt. He took a moment to stand there, wiping his hands some more as he stared at you with a little crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He could see the signs of dinner on your apron, see how the toes of your houseshoes wiggled in soft impatience, see the old denim of your favorite overalls you had sewn flower embroidery into on a whim. His heart was warm, and his belly grumbled as he finally moseyed back to the house.

“Make any progress on her?” You questioned in that gentle tone of yours, making his smile break even bigger.

“A little. Gettin’ closer to solvin’ the big problem. One little problem at a time.”

You walked inside, Joseph stopping to hang up his hat and coat by the door before following you into your little dining room. He sat down in his chair after shooing away the tomcat, sighing in relief as the wooden chair was more comfortable than the cold dirt ground he’d been on all day.

“I guess you’d figured something out. Saw how you were eyeing up that part you pulled out a couple hours ago so I went ahead and called up to Tom’s and told him you might be up later this week for something.”

Tom’s was the main part store in town, a small but well-stocked and family-operated business that knew you and your husband well by name. Joseph felt his heart flutter as he watched you serve him up a plate of dinner, acknowledging that you’d gone ahead and made a call he likely would have made on his own.

“Thank you, darlin’, you’re wonderful.”

He let you place down his plate and utensils before grabbing your wrist and placing a series of small, lingering kisses on the back of your hand.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You chuckled and leaned down to place a return kiss on his temple.

“You’re still making up for knocking us into that wheelbarrow.”

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 13

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Pyro / Scout / Reader Summary: Date a Scout who plays on a slip n’ slide with Pyro. Warnings: N/A

There was bound to be heat when you worked in the desert of New Mexico, but sometimes you were cursed when an extra potent heat wave rolled through the area. Such was one of those times, and right smack in the midst of summer. The Admins had some mercy on you mercs and gave you some ceasefire time until the temperatures were back within a reasonable heat index for fighting, so until that point, you were all working on keeping cool with limited supplies.

There was a benefit, however, of having near unlimited access to industrial grade and quantity materials. While nosing around in the somewhat cooler garage of Engie, Pyro came across a large roll of high-density polyethylene and was quick to share a rather brilliant idea with the aforementioned Texan and Scout. You were initially in the dark about their little plan as you were in the rec room sucking in ice water and air from the pathetic air-con unit, but it didn’t take long before you began to hear the construction sounds outside.

In a signature move of playful intellect, the trio was building a large slip n’ slide course using the roll of liner and some assorted materials Engineer had lying around the garage and wasn’t going to use anytime soon. There were sloped turns, Pyro had already begun digging for a holding pond to end in, and Scout was discussing a ramp sliding down from the base’s roof.

Scout and Pyro being your significant others, you knew them pretty well and chalked this up to Engie humoring their melted brain antics until the heat made them give up, but soon enough you were the one being proved wrong, and within only two days the trio had built a fully functional slip n’ slide course and pool-seized retention pond. Engie had even added a little ‘splash zone’ for those less inclined to sliding and swimming.

So, you currently lounged, watching Scout and Pyro slip, slide, and play while you relaxed in a chair under the gentle, cooling mist of the ‘splash zone’. Mostly you were there to make sure the pair were regularly applying sunscreen, but you weren’t going to deny that your little makeshift waterpark was doing wonders to beat the heat wave. From behind your sunglasses, you watched Scout make another pass down the slide, splashing into the retention pond a few feet away from Pyro who diligently shielded their little rubber ducks from the incoming wave. You couldn’t help but smile and laugh at your lovers.

“Come on, you two, time for another round of sunblock!” You called while waving the tube in the air to get their attention. Scout had initially groaned when you insisted on the sunscreen before they started playing, but now he was right beside Pyro in rushing up to meet you as getting the stuff applied was just an excuse to have your hands all over his body. Pyro wasn’t nearly as exposed as Scout with their wetsuit on, but they still had exposed arms and legs that needed covering, and they insisted on Scout lathering them up while you attended to him.

“Alright, fine, hold on a sec!”

You giggled at your two partners, taking care to lather up Scout’s back and shoulders while he first attended to Py’s arms. You waited patiently while he got the other’s legs, waiting your turn to do the same until Pyro piped up and offered to return the favor.

“Daaaaang, gettin’ fondled by both my hot babes? Go right ahead, Py!”

It was hard not to snort a little at Scout’s eagerness, leaning back in your chair as Pyro finished up the lather job on Scout. Once done, the pair gave you a spin so you could make sure they were thoroughly covered before returning to the water.

“You look good to me,” you started, getting excited shouts from the two as they turned to run back into the water before you shouted at them.

“You forgot something, though!”

Scout and Pyro stopped, turning to look back with expressions of confusion and slight embarrassment.

“I’d say I’m overdue a kiss from you two,” you grinned at them, sending them scampering back up to your side. Scout clutched your face in his hands with a grin of his own, smothering your face in a barrage of little kisses that made you giggle before placing a sloppy kiss on your mouth. Pyro nudged their mask into your neck and cheek, making you blush and giggle as you could hear their excited breathing through the air filter. They didn’t stop there, though, as they swiftly turned to Scout and gave a nudge to his cheek as well.

“GET A ROOM, HIPPIES!”

The three of you turned to look at where the shouting had come from, spying the rest of your team now suited up into their bathing suits and ready to join in on the slip n’ slide fun.

“Yer just jealous I got two hot partners and I can do a better slide down the ramp, Sol!” Scout taunted his fellow American, starting up one of their signature spats that resulted in them racing off to climb up the roof to the start of the slip n’ slide. You chuckled and shook your head at the two as Engie, Spy, and Medic came to join you in the ‘splash zone’ while Demo and Heavy joined Pyro in the retention pond and Sniper gave himself enough space to follow up to the roof without getting caught in Soldier and Scout’s little battle.

“At least the liner’s tough enough to withstand all the nonsense. I think we’re gonna have to keep this slip n’ slide around.”

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 12

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Spy / Reader Summary: Date a Spy who smells like a baguette. Date a Spy who is a baguette. Warnings: Mild Violence

You couldn’t recall the last time you were so hungry for your lover. Your nose was buried deep in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the edge of his mask and breathing in as if he were your only source of oxygen and yet groaning as if you were inhaling some incredible drug from his skin.

He smelled… heavenly. That was the best and easiest way to describe it. He smelled warm, almost sweet, with a familiar richness that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. And, damn, if you didn’t get drunk off his aroma.

He whimpered softly at your attention, squirming against the kitchen counter where you had him pinned. He was used to being the smooth one, but he wouldn’t deny that he was turned on by how swiftly you turned the tables on him.

You withdrew from his neck, mouth watering and breath warm as you ran your tongue across your lips, pressing the Spy further against the counter. There was only so much you could do to hold yourself back before finally deciding within yourself that you couldn’t be arsed and turned to the other side of his neck to sink your teeth into his flesh.

His skin matched his scent; warm, sun-kissed, delightful. Whimpers turned into gasps now as he was at the mercy of your mouth, so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even notice how your hand crept towards the knife block a little way down the counter from the two of you.

He’d forgive you, but maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, you weren’t sure you cared. You were so hungry, even your stomach was starting to rumble as your tongue tasted his flesh. The handle of the knife was comfortable in your grip, and suddenly everything was right where it should be.

Mouth still upon his skin, your knife sank into the Spy’s side, wiggling just enough to make leeway where you could cleanly slice upwards. You withdrew to view your handiwork, whimpers and gasps now replaced with shocked silence as you carved up the flesh of your beloved to match your desires.

So lost in your cutting, you didn’t realize someone else had stepped into the communal kitchen until they placed a hand upon your shoulder.

“Mm, is that a fresh baguette from the bakery, cher?” The velvety French tones of Spy rang through your ears, hearing the smile in his voice without even looking.

“Of course! I wouldn’t dare have a chicken pesto sandwich without one. Would you like half?”

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 11

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Soldier / Reader Summary: Date a Soldier who tends to interrupt at the most inopportune times. You haven’t been able to cum for days because he somehow always manages to interrupt. Date the Soldier who brings you into his quarters one night to make up for interrupting you so many times. Warnings: (18+) Sexual Content

“Come on… come on…”

You whined under your breath in the early morning light, knowing well enough just how thin the walls were between yourself and the rooms where your teammates. You’d gotten up before Soldier’s morning alarm, having gone to bed earlier the night prior, and so it seemed entirely reasonable to indulge a little before the day truly began.

Your vibrator was quiet but still held more than enough power for what you needed, holding it at just the right angle and position while you bucked your hips and ignored how your legs began to cramp as you focused on bringing yourself to the precipice of delight. Your eyes were screwed shut, teeth sunk into your lower lip, intensely focused on your pleasure.

“Oh, fuck… please…”

So close. Just a little more. Your leg was beginning to shake and that telltale feeling was stirring in your pelvis until finally —

“RISE AND SHINE, CUPCAKE!”

The firm voice and police-like knock on your door made you yelp and kick your legs out, wincing as all your pleasure went to waste and your muscles cramped up from how deeply you’d been focusing. Why the hell was Soldier getting you up so early? It was still a good hour and a half until the morning roll call. Muttering under your breath, you swiftly turned off and hid away your vibrator before hiking up your sweatpants and underwear, knowing how much the man on the other side of your door hated to wait.

“Something I can help you with, Sol?” You did your best not to grumble too much as you opened your door, not wanting to risk the Soldier’s wrath first thing in the morning.

“It is your turn to assist with breakfast duty.” He stated firmly and matter-of-factly, making your jaw drop slightly and your head jerk to the wall calendar you hung by the door. Shit, he was right. Damn it, there was a reason you went to bed early.

With an internal sigh, you slipped on the pair of slides and grabbed a hair tie before accompanying the Soldier to the kitchen.

“Alright, what’s on the breakfast menu today?”

God damn, you hated Capture the Flag, especially at Teufort. It wasn’t uncommon for these matches to last you guys days at a time until someone got desperate enough to give up or make a full-fledged charge for the intelligence in the other’s base.

For now, things were slow and quiet. You’d decided to come and check in on one of the Engineers who was turtling down in the intelligence room, giving him a break to go and tend to his teleports while you watched his sentry and the intel. With how he went off as a leisurely jog, you got the feeling you were going to be watching his stuff for a while.

Leaning against the wall next to his dispenser, you pulled open the little gumboil dispenser on the machine and popped the team-colored gum into your mouth, chewing until you could blow a bubble. Suddenly, a brilliant time-killer came to mind, and you relinquished your weapon to place it atop the dispenser and leaned further against the wall for support.

Sighing deeply and letting a little smile cross your face, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, palming yourself through the unforgiving material of your blood-stained trousers. The seam of the pants felt particularly good, and the orgasm you still had yet to achieve came burning back into your gut.

“Yeah… that’s it, baby.”

You didn’t particularly give a damn about the cameras or potential spies watching. You just wanted to relieve this tension you’d been holdingPressing harder and taking advantage of the seam in your pants, your free hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, teasing the soft skin of your torso and working up to your chest. Your hand barely made it to your ribcage when the sound of fighting came roaring down the hallway.

“INCOMING!”

You’d barely jerked your hands away from yourself and retrieved your weapon by the time Soldier came rushing into the room, defending your intel from a small push from the opposite team. Well, it looked like your time-killer would have to wait. Again.

Thank goodness for large hot water tanks. The Capture the Flag match had, of course, lasted about a week, and everyone was undoubtedly sore from fighting for so long without proper rest. Thus, the communal showers had become a temporary haven to relieve those knotted muscles. You would have guessed Mann Co. was too cheap to pay for large water heaters, but given the immense size of the teams these days, they thankfully hadn’t skimped out on the holy water.

Dinner was over, and most everyone had showered already, as was your case, as well, but being so sore you decided it couldn’t hurt to pamper yourself a little with some time under the steam with those fancy soaps you kept away for special occasions.

You didn’t care about sharing an open stall shower with men anymore, but it wasn’t often you got the showers to yourself, and you intended to take full advantage of the moment. Which meant finally taking care of your personal needs.

The air was thick with steam and the scent of vanilla thanks to your products, and you sang gently to yourself as you stood under the spray of the shower head and ran your hands along your body, giving yourself a little foreplay before getting to the main event. Your nipples were hand under your fingers as you grazed past them, shivering despite the warmth of the water.

Shit, you couldn’t wait any longer.

Rubbing your thighs for a second, you leaned your head back and allowed your hands to find their way betwixt your thighs, gasping in delight as you touched yourself. Both hands worked in tandem, doing your best to keep your voice down in case someone was walking by the shower room. The tiled walls were not very forgiving when it came to sound.

You were already in bliss from your little spa treatment, but you were on the brink of melting now that you had found time to —

“OH, SAY CAN YOU SEE!”

In barged a familiar figure belting the national anthem, giving no warning and making you jump almost out of your skin. You didn’t bother to hide your sigh, this time, getting tired of Soldier’s immaculate timing the past few weeks. You swiftly turned off your shower and gathered your belongings, not bothering to wrap a towel around yourself as you marched past your teammate and to your locker.

Soldier gave you a look over, a proud and patriotic grin visible on his mug until you stormed past.

“What? Got something against the classics?”

You didn’t bother giving him an answer, focused more on getting clothes back on and getting back to your room before you exploded in one way or another. Either the man genuinely had no idea what he was doing to you, or he was good at playing dumb.

Three thirty-two AM.

It was too hot to sleep. You were too hot to sleep. Your body was boiling with the need to cum and yet your mind kept nagging that somehow, someway, Soldier would manage to interrupt you. So, you were laid on your back, stiff as a board, and hands clasped over your stomach as you stared at the ceiling and suffered.

You listened intently to the nighttime sounds of the base. A clock ticking somewhere, the unique snores of your teammates, a critter scratching around outside your window. Anything to keep your mind off what you really needed.

How much time had passed?

Glancing over, you groaned at the clock, seeing that barely two minutes had passed and you were nowhere near closer to either of your two goals.

Fuck it.

You didn’t even give yourself the courtesy pull down of your underwear, shoving your hand past the thin barrier and getting straight to work while you massaged and kneaded your chest through your tank top. Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff.

You let out a breathy, shivering sigh of bliss, quickly working past that edge you’d been sitting on for days now and barreling towards release. Your leg twitched, your gut burned, your wrist was beginning to cramp, but sure enough —

“FIRE DRILL! ROUTINE FIRE DRILL!”

“Oh, come on!”

You yelled aloud, certainly not alone in your annoyance, but particularly burned up by Soldier’s interruption. You were past the point of giving a damn and simply put on some shoes before storming out into the halls alongside the rest of your team. You didn’t even hear the chuckles and whistles from Scout at the sight of you wearing nothing but a tank top and underwear, your ears were burning too much in your anger.

Everyone gathered outside the base in their designated spots, waiting for Soldier to finish the company-mandated roll call before everyone went back to sleep. As he passed by you and called your name, you grunted a reply, not bothering to look up and meet the man’s helmeted gaze. You didn’t even see how he took an extra moment to fully look you up and down, twice, before moving on.

Soldier had burrowed his way under your skin and gotten thoroughly on your nerves. How many days had it been now with still no success in reaching your climax? And you still had no idea whether he was interrupting on purpose or not. It seemed all you could do now was brood and hope your burning desire would slowly ebb away on its own, with zero luck so far.

So, you sat outside the base, lounging in an old lawn chair and overlooking the desert cliffs as you nursed a cold beer. It was a frequent spot for the team to come and relax, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when you heard steps coming up behind you.

“Cupcake?”

Oh, great.

Silently, you stood, refusing to address the man and walking past him with full intentions or instead going to relax in the base’s recreation room. However, you were stopped by a firm grip on your arm that made you jerk around and face your teammate.

His helmet was tipped up enough that you could see a full expression of concern on his face, feeling a mix of sensations twist in your gut uncomfortably. Surprise, irritation, lust. They mixed inside you as you stood silently under Solly’s scrutiny.

“I’m sorry.”

You huffed, shouldering away his touch.

“What’re you apologizing for?”

His expression became a little harder, skeptical, arching a brow at you.

“I may not be genius smart, but I know when someone’s pent up.”

A rush of heat flushed through your body, and you knew you were blushing. Too often did people take Soldier for an unintelligent man, but he definitely knew things and could pick up on cues, sometimes better than the ‘smarter’ members of the team.

You swallowed thickly and licked your lips, trying to form a coherent sentence before Sol chuckled and wrapped his arm around you, leading you back toward the base.

“Let’s go to my quarters and see if we can do something about this issue of yours, soldier.”

God, if you weren’t burning before.

The door was locked and you were pressed on your back against the tightly made bed of Soldier, his mouth working yours in a deep, intoxicating kiss while his deft hands worked his and your clothes away. You were too delirious to do much work, focused instead of the burning desire flowing through you and letting your hands feel every inch of skin Solly exposed to you.

“Mmph… so sweet… so soft…” Soldier spoke with a measure of awe in his voice as he fondled you, sending you only deeper into your intoxication as he finally removed your pants and underwear in one swift motion. His hands dragged down the slopes and curves of your torso, down your hips and across your thighs before you felt him begin to kneel at the edge of the bed.

“Wait, wait, wait, no.” You swiftly sat up, causing the man to look up with wide, hazel eyes, worried he’d done something wrong.

You shook your head, silently reassuring him that he’d done nothing wrong.

“I… am way too pent up to wait any longer. I wanna ride you.”

His expression of worry was quickly replaced with an almost cocky grin, standing from his half-kneel to crawl onto the bed and trade positions with you, lying on his back with a proud little smirk. His cock was already standing at half-mast and needed only a few encouraging stores from his hand before it was at full attention and throbbing at you, making you drool in lustful delight.

“Just a second, private.”

“Jesus, what now?”

You rolled your eyes as Soldier reached over to his bedside table, pulling open the small drawer and retrieving something from within before showing it to you. It took a moment of looking at it before you realized what it was, and your gut clenched in anticipation. Soldier looked proud as he put the vibrating cock ring on himself, purring at you lowly.

“I thought you might enjoy that.”

You were too horny to stop and question what he meant by that. Was your vibe not as quiet as you thought? Had he imagined this scenario? Had he been edging you on purpose? Whatever the case, you couldn’t wait any longer and took your place on the throne of Soldier’s lap.

You whimpered as his leaking tip brushed against you before you sank down and enveloped him, drawing lecherous sounds from both of you. Fuck, you could cum just sitting on his cock like this, but then he went ahead and turned on the vibrating function of his cock ring and made you squeal in delight.

“Come on you sweet little thing, let’s see you ride.”

His hands held your hips, helping you bounce in his lap as you were nearly unable to move in your lustful delirium. His cock stretched you so good, hitting all the right spots and scarping your walls in a way that sleek, metal vibrator never could. Not the mention that cock ring driving you both crazy, it wasn’t long until you were whimpering and begging to cum.

“Please, please. So close, wanna cum, let me cum!”

Soldier bellowed like a bull, digging his heels into the bed and bucking as deep as he could into you, sending stars posing through your veins as your body exploded into warm, oozy lava. He fucked you through your orgasm, his release not yet reached, but courteous enough to slow down and turn off the vibrate function while he still rested, fully erected inside your quivering walls.

You sat atop him, eyes closed, covered in a sheen of sweat and panting and you came down from Cloud Nine. It took a few moments before you opened your eyes again and gazed at Sol with a tender, loopy smile, rolling your hips slightly and drawing a whine from yourself and a groan from him. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I won’t be so cruel, sweetheart. Let’s both get our fill of each other.”

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 10

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Medic / Reader Summary: Date a Medic who cries all the goddamn time. Warnings: N/A

The position you found yourself in was a familiar one that you often fell into at the end of each day. Laid back on the once unforgivably firm Mann Co. mattress, your team’s Medic was sprawled atop you, arms curled around you and his head upon your chest where you could idly curl his cowlick around the end of your finger. Your top was damp with tears, though it didn’t excessively concern you as such was frequently the case given your intensely emotional boyfriend.

The man atop you gave a little sniffle and deep sigh, signaling that he’d finally come down from his most recent crying fit, and you tuck in your chin to gaze down at him with a little smile.

“Feeling better?”

“Mhm, danke, liebling.” He nodded and leaned into your gentle hand as you cradled his skull, fingers slipping through his messy locks.

“Of course, dear.”

He gave another little huff before the pair of you fell into silence. There was often silence between the two of you, as neither felt the need to constantly blather simply to fill the air. But something about this silence was… off.

“You’re quiet.”

You felt him start a little against your chest, a hand clenching and unclenching in the back of your shirt. He knew what you meant by the little tone in your voice. You were worried, certainly not angry with him over anything, and he did his best to remind himself of the fact but couldn’t help that the corners of his eyes misted up once more despite himself.

“Am I… too emotional?”

“Is there such a thing as too emotional?”

The annoyed puff of air against your damp chest made you chuckle; Ludwig was not pleased with your response.

“You know what I mean. Do I cry too much?”

“Do you think you cry too much?”

Ludwig unwrapped his arms from around you to lift his torso from you, staring at your slightly amused expression with his own furrowed brows of indignation.

“Don’t play armchair doctor with me! I’m being serious!”

“So am I, Luddy!” You were doing everything in your power to prevent yourself from laughing at the moment, knowing your dearly sensitive lover would burst into another fit of sobs, so you sat up a little straighter in bed and addressed him more seriously before that could happen.

“Ludwig, it is perfectly normal to cry. And there is no such thing as being too emotional or crying too much. You are going to cry as much and as often as your body tells you to. Sometimes that can be due to a hormone imbalance or similar disorder,” you spoke in terms the man would understand, earning a nod, “but if you thought was the case with yourself you surely would have run at least a dozen tests by now.”

It seemed to be working, and the crease was melting away from between your lover’s brows.

“I think what you’re trying to ask is if I’m bothered by how much you cry.”

The soft blush tinting his cheekbones was all the confirmation you needed.

“And the answer is no, I could never be bothered by how much you cry. Of course, it took some getting used to in the beginning of your relationship, but how long have we been together now? I’m used to you crying about multiple things each day, and I find it sincerely endearing that you feel your emotions deeply enough about everything to cause you to cry so often. I love you as you are, Ludwig, all your tears included.”

During your little speech, the Medic was steadily tearing up again, and sure enough, he was collapsing into your lap once more in a fit of blubbering sobs, giving muffled cries of thank you and how much he loved you while creating a new damp spot on your sweatpants.

All you could do was smile and resume your gentle petting through the man’s hair, letting him ride through another crying session.

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 9

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Spy / Reader Summary: Date a merc who likes cool knives. Warnings: N/A

The mercs were, in a way, an incredibly straightforward group of people. But in the same breath, they never failed to frequently and delightfully surprise you, and that included the most secretive member of the crew; your beloved Spy.

Spy was… well, he was an enigma, to put it plainly. You could spend hours trying to come up with the proper series of words to describe your lover in a complimentary and accurate way, but that would frankly require too much brain power and a high-ranking collegiate degree. Both of which you were not in possession of. So, he was an enigma. Short, sweet, simple, and the best descriptor you could come up with using your non-infinite brain power.

And as each member of the team had their respective interests, the same went for Spy. Only he kept his interests close to his chest, much like his true identity that not even you knew entirely, despite having been dating for almost seven years now. But there was danger in knowing the merc’s true identity – name and interests included – so you’d savor whatever little crumb or speck of genuine interest or passion he’d show you. Which is why you were incredibly giddy to latch onto the discovery of just how invested Spy was in his knife collection.

To the outside gaze, it would appear that your partner was so invested in his weapon purely due to his mercenary position. Admittedly, you thought the same for a number of years. His knife was important. Special. His knife was part of the arsenal that kept him coming home to you every night, so of course there would be a sense of weight to the connection between man and blade. It was a connection that could only truly be understood by witnessing it firsthand and behind the privacy of a closed door. In the same way you were his lover, the knives were his beloved, and watching him care and speak about them was nearly reminiscent of a proud parent and their child. You had been quiet for most, if not the entire evening. At least since the moment you’d crossed the threshold into Spy’s private quarters as had the door locked behind the two of you.

His collection was extensive and well loved and that expansiveness and care was clear the moment your lover unlocked the polished wooden case that housed a great majority of his blades. It consisted of more than butterfly knives, which both was and wasn’t a surprise. You could name a few upon first glance; a gold inlay push dagger, a silver and jade handled boot knife, and…

“Is that a…?”

“An F-S fighting blade? Oui. I didn’t take you for such a connoisseur.”

You giggled a bit at his impressed tone.

“I do know a little from being with you for so long.”

Your lover smirked, amused laughter humming in the back of his throat before he leaned over to brush a kiss against your temple. As you admired the collection more, keeping it a very hands-off affair, Spy walked behind you and began to toy with some locks. There were a number of things he kept hidden in his quarters, even from you, so you did your best to satiate your curiosity as you heard things shift around until the locks clicked back into place.

“Come here, mon cher, I’d like to show you a special piece to my collection.”

“Oh?”

You hummed, turning your head to where your lover stood at his expansive desk before returning to his side.

“A piece even more special than your balisong?”

“Yes, far more special.”

Not that had your ears perked up. You watched intently as Spy’s gloved hands carefully opened the steel box in front of him, revealing a plush velvet bed and a silken strip of fabric, which he lifted as if it were fragile than glass. Within the box nestled a clearly custom knife, the handle inlaid with silver and gold and some material you couldn’t put your finger on that matched the colour of your lover’s working suit. The sharpened edge of the blade gleamed against the warm light, suddenly making you understand how it was so irresistible for Sleeping Beauty to touch that spinning wheel.

“Oh, it’s so lovely! I can see why this one’s special.”

“There’s more behind it than mere looks. This knife is intended to be a gift; a very important gift.” He reached out to tenderly run a finger along the metal.

“Who’s it for, bijou?”

The smile Spy wore whenever you spoke endearingly in French was something that could never be replicated or rivaled. It was something that warmed both your hearts, and you knew it very well.

“This knife… is for mon fils. It is something I wish to pass on to my son.”

Ah. It made sense now.

You knew from the very beginning you were not Spy’s first romantic endeavor. He’d previously been married, and even had a son that he’d recently rediscovered. It was abundantly clear how much the boy, now a young man, meant to him, and how badly he wished he could be a father. It was something his job wouldn’t allow.

You hummed softly in acknowledgement, watching him carefully wrap up the gift as it was, gloved hands resting upon the lid of the box when it was closed once again. Leaning over, you pressed a gentle kiss to the man’s shoulder – an action you didn’t used to get away with given the expensive nature of his suits. This time, your affection brought a heavy sigh from the espionner , and he leaned back to rest his chin upon your head.

“You’ll be able to give it to him. One day, I know it.”

“Merci beaucoup, mon cœur.”

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 8

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Heavy / Reader Summary: Date a Heavy that begs you to sit on his face. The Heavy that spends so long eating you out you worry his tongue will go numb but don’t say anything because it feels so good, The Heavy that wraps his hands around your thighs and buries his face so deep in your loins it seems he may suffocate but the steady rhythm of his mouth tells you otherwise. Date the Heavy that makes you giggle at the soft ‘om nom nom’ noises he makes as he goes down on you. Warnings: (18+) Sexual Content

“Are you certain, Misha?”

It wasn’t often you said those words to the mountain of a man. In fact, you couldn’t recall the last time you asked him that question. Heavy weapons guy was a man that was certain about most everything he did, but something about this particular scenario had you questioning that certainty.

He’d been asking – no, begging – you all week to get into this situation. What situation? To get you where you were currently: straddling his broad chest, his hands holding your thighs and thumbs patiently but eagerly caressing your bare skin as he waited for you to mount his face. Yes. The mercenary had been begging you all week to sit on his face so that he could devour you like a high-class meal.

Your lover smiled gently, albeit rolling his eyes a little and chuckling at your repeated question, but nodded firmly.

“Да, любовь моя. I am certain. You have nothing to worry about. Just let me please you, this evening.”

He was such a careful and caring lover, always wanting to take care of you above his own needs, no matter how primal or desperate, and tonight seemed to only serve that which you already knew. Despite his reassurance, you still hesitated in moving from your spot upon his chest, shifting a little as you purse your lips.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want this – quite the opposite, actually, with how wet you were growing below the belt – it was moreso the fact that you were a little self conscious of your own size. Face-sitting had definitely been on your bucket list of wants since you became sexually active, but every partner before Misha had ether been totally opposed to the concept or unwilling to have your full weight resting on their head. Thusly, those previous experiences had instilled your own sense of uncertainty towards this particular sexual adventure.

You’d never told your current lover about that part of your past, but he had always been the kind of man to read you like a book, so it became quickly clear that he was picking up on your anxious energy. His brows furrowed a little, giving a gentle squeeze to your thighs as he spoke up.

“Are you certain?”

Caring and careless, just as he always was, he turned your question back onto you. Intentionally or not, it pulls you out of your own thoughts and anxieties, focusing on Misha and settling back into the seduction of the moment. His sincere gaze sent your heart aflutter, reigniting the fire in your loins with a new, warmer spark that made you shiver with a shuddery gasp. The worries of the past were suddenly flying away. There was nothing to worry about here, this was a safe space, with someone you trusted and loved fully and wholly.

“Yes,” you replied simply, in turn.

Finally, you moved to accept your throne upon the large man’s face. Knees planted squarely on either side of his head, thighs already tingling wonderfully from the scrape of his facial hair, you hovered for a moment with gentle breaths, looking at one another with desire and interest sparkling in your gazes. But it seemed Heavy had enough of the ‘foreplay’ as his grip on your thighs tightened, firmly pulling you down until your full weight landed upon his face with a delighted, muffled groan that had you gasping in turn.

The man’s tongue was broad, voracious, and unwavering. It curled and rolled and swiped at every crevice and fold, hunting down each and every last drop of the essence that was wholly and purely you . Heavy ate you out like a man devout, and all you could do was croon and hold on to his headboard like your life depended on it.

For a while, all you could focus on was the intense, unfathomable pleasure that had a grip on every fiber of your being, but slowly you came into more clarity, feeling and listening to how your lover worked between your thighs. His head nodded with each swipe of his tongue, as if trying to get every possible inch of you. Each time your thighs gave a stronger quiver, usually accompanied by you crooning his name, it drew a pleased rumble from deep within his chest that only served to bring you more pleasure.

You hadn’t even realized how long he’d been under you until you glanced at the clock on his bedside table, a little rush of alertness soaring through your veins and instinctively making you lift yourself from his face to make sure he was still alright. However, your movements were brought to an abrupt stop by a strong pair of arms and hands. With no hesitation, Misha wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you somehow closer and pulling you right back down to his face, his face pressed so far against you it was a wonder he wasn’t on the brink of suffocating. But his mouth and rhythm were unwavering, strong and steady like he was in all aspects of life, giving you a rather pleasurable form of reassurance that he was more than fine where he was.

Your pleasure was a warm burn, slowly flaring up until orgasm finally sparked at the forefront of your mind. It made you wonder if this was what an out of body experience felt like, or if it was the exact opposite end of the spectrum and you were so innately aware of every little feeling in your body that you couldn’t comprehend it. Either way, what wondrous bliss.

Hunching over and panting, you gave a series of rapid pats to Heavy’s shoulder, alerting him to your oncoming orgasm along with your breathless cry of, “... close.”

But, oh, did that stop your partner? Not in the slightest. If anything, that only doubled his already immense vigor. Lecherous slurps and groans rumbled between your legs, and despite it being muffled, you could hear the man’s signature ‘om nom nom’.

Caught in the throes of incredible pleasure and ticklish delights at the sounds Misha made, you rode your intense tsunami of pleasure with a laugh in your throat, tears in the corners of your eyes, and insurmountable shivers racking your body. From between your thighs, heavy sighed with delight, sending little aftershocks through your core as he lapped up your mess nearly to the point of over-stimulation, only stopping when you started to whine uncomfortably.

Slowly, carefully, he sat upright, guiding you to lay back across his lower half and onto the bed, soothing his hands along your torso as you came back to clarity.

“H-holy shit…”

That was really all you could utter in the moment, caught up in the sight that was Misha leaned over you with your spend glistening upon his face, neck, and seeping into the collar of his shirt. He took your words and gaze in stride, and smiled with a warm chuckle, wiping his mouth off before leaning down to press a series of light kisses across your face.

“Will I have to beg next time?”

Next time?

Oh, this man was going to be the wonderful death of you.

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 7

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Demoman / Reader Summary: Date a Demoman who loves kissing your chest and tummy and making you feel sexy. Warnings: (18+) Sexual Content

"Tavish... this really isn't - ah!"

You were interrupted by another gasp as the Scottishman's mouth found your nipple and his teeth briefly sank into the sensitive flesh, derailing your train of thought. The man has been working all evening to get you to finally be quiet and relax into bliss as he pampered your body with affection.

Someone had made an unwelcome comment about your appearance earlier in the day, and while you tried not to let such things bother you, your boyfriend clearly wasn't going to stand for it. His mission seemed clear; to make you feel at sexy and as gorgeous as he knew you to be. His tools for such a job? Nothing more than his mouth and his hands.

You laid back, sprawled amongst a sea of soft furs, hand knit blankets and plush pillows, your eyes shut and your teeth digging into your lower lip as Tavish fawned over you like an artist mulling over his masterpiece. His hands almost molded you like wet clay, his mouth kissing along every inch of skin, every blemish and stretch mark and scar, unyielding in his quest to make you feel sexy.

“Tav,” you breathed out, but couldn’t find yourself finishing the thought as that rich brown eye gazed up at you without faltering in his ministrations.

It was strange to think of yourself as sexy, or even hot. You’d become so accustomed to hearing quite the opposite all your life, so imagine your shock when someone like Tavish swept you up and showered you in such outlandish compliments.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, trying not to succumb entirely to the passionate work of your lover as he kissed and stroked every inch of your torso. But you found yourself with your eyes wide open as you glanced at the ceiling, a strange new feeling swirling in your gut.

“When did you get the mirror?”

He didn’t answer simply humming with gentle laughter against your stomach as he circled kisses around your bellybutton, leaving you almost shellshocked as you stare at your reflection.

You’d never seen yourself like this before. You’d heard of people getting mirrors involved during sex, but it had always seemed such a strange and narcissistic thing to you. But now... it opened your eyes, in a way.

Watching your body heave with whimpers and moan, seeing your skin flush, watching Tavish so eagerly kiss and stroke along your body. It was incredibly new and arousing to watch this familiar act in a new perspective, and admittedly, you began to open your eyes to what your lover was always saying to you. You were sexy. You were stunning and gorgeous and all those other adjectives he so often used to describe you.

Watching yourself, you couldn't help but be overcome with a wave of arousal, eyes rolling back in your skull as you let a deep, guttural moan claw free from your chest and roll past your lips. Your hands curled into your lover’s soft locks, a newfound swell of pride filling your chest at the sound of him grunting against your flesh.

“What I tell ye?” Tavish grinned against your sternum, kissing his way up to your neck as he settled himself betwixt your thighs. One of his hands found your own, fingers intertwining as he used the other to adjust himself at your entrance.

Your eyes opened once more, gazing at the reflective surface of the ceiling just as Tavish arched his back and hilted himself within you, drawing another moan from your lips.

“Fuck... I think you may have been onto something with all the compliments.”

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 6

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Scout / Reader Summary: Date a Scout and admire his top surgery scars while he rides you. Warnings:(18+) Sexual Content

Dawn was glistening through the curtains of Jeremy's room, dust dancing through the sunbeams the reached their long fingers across the messy floor. Thankfully you weren't at the base, otherwise, Soldier would be having a fit about the state of the Scout's room. He'd invited you to his home for the brief vacation all the mercs had been given, wanting to properly introduce you to his family and have some peace away from the battlefield.

But your loverboy was taking advantage of the time for more than just rest and relaxation, as shown by this morning's activities. You were barely awake, still groggy and stiff, but Jeremy had awoken with a raging desire within him and decided that he need to be fucked immediately before the rest of his family was awake for breakfast. And so you were, the Scout atop you as he fucked himself silly.

Your hands fluttered along his hips and muscled thighs, focusing on the sound of his shaky, quiet moans and the weight of him in your lap. Each bounce seemed to spur you a little more into a lucid state, unable to ignore the needs of your long-time boyfriend. Blinking a few times, your vision finally came into focus, looking at Jeremy's flushed face with a smile.

"Enjoying yourself?"

The young man pouted, "Sh-shut up."

You couldn't help but chuckle under your breath, adjusting yourself a little to help with his needs and buck yourself into him, providing a deeper, more pleasurable angle. You could remember back when you started messing around, shortly after coming to the battlefield. You never would have guessed that he was trans, but it sure as hell didn't bother you when that fact was finally revealed. He'd been so nervous, so worried that you'd find him disgusting and not want to be with him anymore, but you still remember the excited squeal that came from his mouth when you reassured him with a sexy comment.

"Fuck... so close," he panted above you, head tossed back as he jerked at his cock, fighting to keep that rhythm of his hips steady. "Please, babe, help me."

You smirked, lowering your gaze from his face to his chest, but giving him a teasing, hard buck of your hips.

"You started this, honey. You gotta finish it."

Scout whimpered, begging you, but you simply focused on the lovely scars upon his chest, placing your hands on his torso. From what he explained, Medic had done his top surgery. It was easiest for him since he hadn't fully come out to his family at that time, and didn't want to go spending any of his merc money on hunting down a reasonable doctor. It was impressive that he trusted the doc to do such a thing, even after he'd accidentally closed up his chest cavity with a live bird inside.

A gasp fluttered from his lips as you traced your fingertips along the scars, simultaneously jagged and clean, but as perfect as the man riding you.

"God, you're incredible," you breathed out, your hands sliding down to his hips again after a moment. Your compliment made him sink his teeth into his lower lip, hunched forward and clapping a hand over his mouth as he furiously stroked his cock, the quivering of his thighs and the furrow of his brows letting you know that he'd finally caught the high he was chasing.

A smile came to your own expression, soothing a hand through his messy hair and pressing some kisses to his neck, making him whimper in his over-stimulated state.

"Good morning to you, too," you teased.

He huffed, blushing again before flopping down on top of you. Curling your arms around him, you sighed, letting your eyes shut again and slowly sinking back into the warm embrace of sleep. However, that peace was swiftly shattered by a shout and the sound of feet thudding through the halls.

"Breakfast!"

"Shit!" Jeremy quickly hopped up, nearly tripping over his own feet in the fight to get some sweatpants back on. And you weren't far behind. There was no way you were missing out on his mother's legendary pancakes.

[admin-cock-creations]

Evil Lives Alone

Support Me on Ko-fi || Become a Patron!

Fandom: N/A Character(s): Taryn Nargarian [OC] Summary: Evil is a lot of things, but evil doesn’t mind these moments of peace. Length: 286 words Warning(s): N/A

The pale, white tiles of the kitchen floor still held the chill of the weather. The space had warmed up a bit over the evening, with the pots and pans on the stove and the few candles dotted on the windowsills and coffee table.

Even despite the chill, bare feet slid back and forth over the tiles.

A lone woman glanced over her recipe book, the margins filled with notes and many places scratched out and rewritten. Black, wireless headphones blocked out the rest of the world, music filling her head as she lifted a spoon of white sauce to taste. A little more cream.

She lived alone. No pets, no lovers, not even friends. No one to speak with and no one to bother her over the simple grey sweatpants and faded black tank-top she wore. There was no need to worry over impressing someone with her tousled ruby locks all shoved up in a messy bun, to stress over the fact that she wore heavy eye bags and no makeup.

There was no one and nothing but her in the little one-person apartment.

And that didn’t bother her in the slightest.

She enjoyed the solitude, the moments where nothing but silence filled her head, the lack of someone reaching out to her in bed when she couldn’t sleep and went to stand on the fire escape and spoke from her pipe. It was calm, serene. No one knew she lived alone, and she liked it that way. No one to fret over her safety, no one to whine about how lonely she must be, no one to insist on hooking her up with blind dates.

Living alone was nice.

Being alone… was nice.

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 5

Support Me on Ko-fi || Become a Patron!

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Sniper / Reader Summary: Date a Sniper who will keep sniping while you suck him off. Length: 397 words Warnings:(18+) Sexual Content

His aim was flawless. He took down every target he took aim at with a few simple hand movements. He barely blinked, not even when he reached over to grab his coffee mug and take a swig. He was very practiced in the art of sniping, and it was immensely impressive.

Especially when he could continue doing it while his cock has halfway down your throat.

His trousers were halfway down his thighs, legs spread just enough to you could kneel comfortably between them. His erect cock was wonderfully long and warm, making you moan as a wave of electricity went straight to your gut. Drool slid down your chin, his salty musk covering every inch of your tongue so generously you were sure you wouldn’t forget it as long as you live.

They only satisfaction he’d give you was an occasional breath that was noticeably heavier.

You wanted so badly to reach down and pleasure yourself, but you the unconscious trembling of his thighs beneath your fingertips was so delectable you couldn’t pull away. You let your eyes flutter shut again, dropping your head until the dark curls at the base of his erection tickled your nose and remaining there, even as your eyes watered. You could taste the edge of his orgasm in the very back of your throat.

The only response he gave was another gunshot.

You sucked harder, giving obscenely loud slurps and muffled moans that sent heavenly vibrations from his dick all the way up his spine. You wanted his cum, you wanted to taste his essence and swallow so much of it it would make your belly warm. Your efforts finally paid off. He grew shakier above you, gasping and growling through his teeth as he struggled to keep his hips from bucking into the velvety warmth of your mouth.

He finally caved, elbows resting on your shoulders and gaze never leaving the sights in his scope.

You withdrew once he’d stopped throbbing in your mouth, every drop of cum sliding effortlessly down your gullet. You gasped for air, eyes glazed over with lust and your own arousal begging for attention. But you couldn’t stop. The Australian had you in a spell and the rosiness on his cheeks had you dying for more.

So you leaned in again, stroking his oversensitive cock back to full hardness and beginning the process anew.

[admin-cock-creations]

Sacred Moments

Support Me on Ko-fi || Become a Patron!

Fandom: N/A Pairing: Bruce Taylor [OC] / Taryn Nargarian [OC] Summary: Poor Bruce has been feeling a little neglected as of late and darling Taryn’s taken notice of it. Length: 2,096 words Warnings:(18+) Sexual Content

[ written just because I really enjoy spoiling my GF with naughty content ;3c @kaijuartpersonal ]

Early morning was a sacred time.

Soft light just beginning to filter through the windows, the gentle sounds of the wilderness outside, none of the pets very awake yet, and the bed just the perfect temperature to allow the pair of giants to curl up closely to one another for a while before they had to begin the day.

The fairer of the two was already awake and lying back in their nest of pillows as her lover rested a while longer, his body covering her own and head nestled into the softness of her bosom. Her fingers were absentmindedly running through his soft, sleep-tousled locks, unable to resist smiling fondly at the blissful expression on his face. It didn’t take much longer before her mate stirred, grunting as he woke and stretched enough to crack his joints. A small purr left his lips as he adjusted his resting position, rolling over so he could face his love and return her sweet smile.

“Good morning, dearest.” “Mornin’, love.”

Her fingers lingered in his hair a few moments longer before traveling down to cup his cheek, urging him to rest on his elbows to properly accept the kiss she offered. Her lips were soft and warm and wonderfully tempting, making it nearly impossible to resist leaning in to capture her lips again when she withdrew. A deep, rumbling purr resonated in his throat as he recaptured her in another kiss, his body moving to let him prop himself up more and allow her arms to snake around his neck as their embrace grew more and more heated.

The sweet sounds the woman beneath him made, her taste on his tongue, even her scent was driving him wild. Desire was burning deep in his gut, all the sexual frustration he’d been holding in now coming to a boil and making him desperate to breed his breathtaking mate. It was too much, she was too tempting and he was far too needy to continue holding back. It was simple enough to nudge himself between her legs, using a knee to spread them and nestle himself down. One of his hands was more than enough to keep both hers pinned above her head after she slipped them off his neck, his red-haired mistress putting up no fight as he sampled the goods of her neck with a growl.

“Did ya really think… ya would get away with this? Kissin’ me with those perfect lips, lettin’ me pin you down, givin’ me full access to your weak spot.” A growling bought of laughter escaped his throat, making his mate give a soft keen beneath him before responding in that seductively coy voice.

“Oh, I knew I wouldn’t get away with it. I – hah! – I wanted you to lay claim to me. I can smell just how much you need me, and I desperately want you to give every last bit of bottled up frustration and tension to me.”

This was one of the reasons he adored her so deeply. She knew just how to tease him, how to press all his buttons and sink her claws into his skin, and yet she gave him everything. Anything he could ever ask for she gave to him on a silver platter. A cooing sound escaped him as his teeth sank into her flesh a bit, just enough to taste the heavenly sweetness of her blood. Tongue lapping over her neck, his python of an erection was rising to the occasion as his hips rocked firmly into hers, savoring her little gasps and moans of pleasure.

“Ya like that? Ya like feelin’ just how worked up ya get me?”

“Yes… god, yes! I want all of you, I need you, please,” she begged him a breathless tone, already squirming with need and encouraging his cock to get harder.

Her own desperation made him chuckle against her skin, giving a particularly hard rut into her that made her whine louder.

“Naughty girls who tease their mates don’t get want they want. So ya just gotta lie back and let Brucey toy with ya until I’m feelin’ generous.”

His order was accentuated with a deep tone and a final nip to her neck, watching her face flush and chest heave as he pulled away and smirked down at Taryn. Oh, he was certain if an artist was lucky enough to see this view there’d be dozens of masterpieces depicting his love as she was beneath him. With her lips perfectly kiss bruised, hair still tousled with sleep and fanned out over their little love nest of pillows, eyes round and submissive for him and him alone, she was purely a thing of beauty.

A firm squeeze to her wrists was a silent command to keep them above her head while his calloused fingers wandered down her torso, bringing goosebumps to her flesh as they danced over her sides before slipping under the hem of her thin tank-top. Undressing her was like opening a present, and his mouth almost watered at watching how her breasts and stomach moved with each heavy breath, the article of clothing slipping up and over her head before being promptly tossed aside like a mere rag. His lips craved her skin and the giant couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to press open mouth kisses all along her torso, recalling the map of her body he’d memorized so many times before. He knew just where to touch, to lick, to nip and kiss. Right above her navel drew that soft little gasp of surprise, along her ribs made her shiver, betwixt her breasts made her sigh his name in an ethereal tone, it was like making music with her body.

And her breasts alone. Oh, how he adored her breasts. They were plush and warm and fit perfectly in his hands. He couldn’t resist cupping one gently, feeling its weight and how it bounced as he toyed with it while he kissed and sucked around it’s pair. Above him, the redhead crooned and gasped, gripping the pillows above her head to force herself not the grab his hair out of reflex when he sucked hard enough to leave a bruise before swapping. Instead of the gentleness of his lips, this one was greeted with the edge of his teeth as he nipped along her fair skin. The wonderfully pert rosebud of her nip drew him in, and he took it gently between the daggers of his teeth, eyes glancing up to watch how she whined as he tugged on it. He’d never hurt her on purpose and had learned his limits over the time spent with her, but it was still quite fun to draw her in to that arousing precipice of danger right before dropping her back into bliss.

“Please...”

“Hm?” He hummed in reply, lips surrounding the rest of what wasn’t between his teeth and watching her struggle to speak between whines. “Pleeeease… you’re torturing – mh! – me!”

Bruce chuckled and pulled his mouth away, rolling the other nipple between his forefinger and thumb as he continued to be a tease.

“Are ya gonna be good for me?” “Yes!”

“Are ya gonna let me rut ya into the mattress?” “Oh, yes, yes!”

The giant growled, leaning in to her face so both their nose brushed together as he growled out a final question.

“Are ya gonna take every last drop of my cum and not waste any?”

With a lovely gasp that made her pupils dilate, Taryn moaned out, “Yes.”

And with that, Bruce felt his cock give a hard throb and knew he couldn’t wait another moment.

His thumbs slipped into the sides of the giantess’s lacy panties, taking note of just how soaked they were before flinging them aside like the shirt. His own boxers were tugged down his thighs, as he was far too impatient to tug them all the way off with this gorgeous, needy woman lying beneath him. Slipping his hand under her thighs, he sat up on his own knees and tugged her forward, lifting one leg to rest on his shoulder while he straddled the other so she was resting on her side. Keeping his eyes on his mate, the giant lined up his massive cock with her needy cunt, arching himself over her for a moment so with one clean rock of his hips he was sheathed within her. The sensation of fullness on her end and the silky warmth of her insides on his was enough to have them both moaning, merely resting still for a moment to savor the feeling before Bruce gripped her hips and began to give sharp, deep thrusts.

Each snap of his hips drew a pronounced moan from the redhead’s throat, whether she was uttering praises of whatever words she could utter or begging him for more there was no pattern. The loud slap of his balls slapping against her skin was almost entirely drowned out by both their combined pants, moans, and groans. Every thrust sent him so deep into his lover she felt like her organs her being forced out of place, but the pleasure was so immense she couldn’t care. Sweat drenched both of them as the rising sun crept into their bedroom, disturbing the perfect temperature it held those many moments ago when this began.

The giant couldn’t keep himself apart from his lover’s lips for too long, and despite how much they were both struggling for breath, he arched over so his body covered hers as he continued his well-paced rutting, catching her lips in brief kisses they shared between gasps for air.

“Fuck… hoh, shit! Do ya… do ya like that, love? Shit, ya feel so good!”

“Hah, yes! You’re s- oh! So big! Oh, god! I can f-feel you… swelling up insi – ah! – de me!”

A weak chuckle escaped Bruce, pausing for just a second to adjust himself so he could pound into Taryn faster. Between swallowing mouthfuls of excess saliva and pauses for breath, he growled out just what he was

“I’m gonna… christ, I’m gonna empty my balls in ya. Keep ya locked in place with… with my knot so you don’t lose a drop!”

Too much pleasure was coursing through her veins to form a properly worded response, so all she could do was whine loudly in reply, a wordlessly eager beg for him to spill within her. The giant’s fingers dug into her hips, gripping tightly as his climax rushed toward him like a runaway express train. His knot was so swollen he almost couldn’t thrust anymore, but with a few more harsh rocks of his hips his knot was fully locked within her, the heavy load was flooding from his aching balls, and both monsters roared loud enough in bliss that the pet wolves resting outside awoke and howled in response.

Their limbs felt too heavy, and yet Bruce somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing onto Taryn, merely trembling once in a while and panting along with her as his enormous load flooded her womb. Slowly, her stomach extended from just how full she was from the combination of his cock, knot, and cum, her hazy gaze meeting his as he gave a breathless laugh.

“Ya… ya still got work today, aye?”

His lover nodded in response, giving a soft whine when he reached between them and rubbed her swollen clit.

“Good. I want ya to go in with all of my spend inside ya. Have your belly all full as a reminder of how good I bred ya this morning.”

“Mm, you sound like you’re trying to get it to catch,” she responded softly, finally reaching up to pull him in closer again for a gentle kiss. All he could do was chuckle at her comment, grinding against her as they waited for his knot to go down. It took somewhere close to an hour, but it finally did go down enough for them to separate, gasps leaving both of them at the loss of sensation and another, sharper gasp coming from his lover when he pressed his fingers against her cunt, scooping his escaped spend back into her quivering pussy. It would be time to leave for work soon, but the couple shared a few more moments of tender affection, allowing the feeling to return to her legs before she stood and began to get ready, not at all minding the trickle of cum down her thighs or how far her stomach was distended.

“Have a good day at work, love.”

[admin-cock-creations]

I'm....lov you...

Thanks darling, that's really sweet of you ⭐

[admin-cock-creations]

I keep seeing a lot of Flaco HCs where he’s entirely soft for the reader and all I have to say is

HA! Watch this, babes. Flaco may have a soft spot for ya but that don’t mean he’s gone soft

Time to provide that rough, loving Flaco content with Part 2 of Take Care

[admin-cock-creations]

A Change in Direction

Support Me on Ko-fi || Become a Patron!

Fandom: A Hat in Time Pairing: The Conductor / F!Reader Summary: Stranded in a town full of birds where you’re the only human, it doesn’t seem like you’ve got much a chance at things going well for you. A local movie studio, however, changes your life for the better. Length: 5,137 words Warnings: N/A Other Locations: AO3

You still had no idea how you’d ended up here, though you could definitely recall when you woke for the first time and found the worried faces of numerous birds leaning over you. Most appeared to be owls, but one was a rather eccentric looking penguin with large sunglasses and an afro. He was pressing either a cold wing or a damp rag to your forehead when your eyes fluttered open, and once he noticed you were awake he had spoken in a boisterous tone.

“Darling!~ Are you alright? You took quite the stumble there!”

That made you pass out again.

The next time you woke you were in a bedroom, and for just a moment you were sure you were home and it had all been some weird dream. But then you noticed the room wasn’t your own and as you threw your legs off the side of the bed some arguing voices outside began to come closer. The only door to the windowless room was shoved open and the afro-sporting penguin from earlier walked in with a new figure by his side. Honestly, you had no idea what sort of bird the fluffy figure was, or if it was even a bird at all. Then, after a moment of the three of you looking at once another, the yellow one turned to the penguin and shouted in a clearly Scottish accent.

“Ye buffoon! Yer didnae tell me it was a lass faintin’ in the reception!”

Hard to believe that was the first ever interaction you had with your new boss, or rather, bosses.

Yes, once you found there was no returning to where you’d originally come from – not that you could remember it anyway – it was decided you’d have to stay and make a life in a town full of birds. You spent the first few weeks doing odd jobs around the town, periodically running into both the birds from the studio you now knew as DJ Grooves and the Conductor. Grooves was certainly the more open and friendly of the pair, not the say the Conductor wasn’t kind to you, it was just far more likely for the platform wearing penguin to find his way to your basic apartment, strike you up on a conversation of how your week was going and offer any assistance he could. That fact alone is why you were so surprised when on one evening you found his yellow partner at your door, instead, with the offer of an intern position at the studio.

Considering all you’d been doing for the past week was throwing your back out by wiping down cafe tables, you eagerly accepted the job. At least if you threw your back on a movie set it would be a more interesting story.

The following Tuesday you found yourself bustling about Dead Bird Studio, clipboard in hand and assisting DJ Grooves with production of his newest film. You’d come to learn the specific film tastes for each of the filmmakers over the short time you had been in town, and this newest genre was quite a bold step for Grooves to try. He was much more of a comedy and musical sort of bird, while his partner was the one better known for his action and murder mysteries. Though, considering you were just an intern, you really felt you had no place to speak on the director’s film choices.

A few days into the filming process, you had unfortunately been left alone in the studio for an evening, reviewing what shoddy film work they’d captured to that point and writing down every timestamp where there was some sort of error. Yawning and setting aside your now drained third cup of coffee, you glanced over your clipboard. You were on your third round of the film out of the recommended five, and things weren’t looking great so far.

18 scenes that needed scrapped. 32 boom mic shots. 74 actors out of place. 192 unintelligible and/or completely butchered lines.

You were starting to see why the Conductor was the more revered director in town. And speaking of the devil…

“I thought everyone had buggered off for the night, ye still burning the midnight oil, lass?”

Turning to look behind you, and unintentionally drawing a harsh crack from your back, you faced the Conductor from where he peeked in through the doorway. He must’ve taken his jacket off earlier in the day because it appeared he’d been in the process of putting it back on before spotting you on his way out, with the buttons still undone and his crisp white shirt and silver accented vest catching the light from the many screens in the room.

You nodded at his question and glanced over your clipboard once more, still new enough an intern to not want to risk accidentally offending either the filmmakers and lose the only good thing you had going for your life right now.

“Yes, Mr. Conductor. Mr. Grooves put me on film review before I leave for the night.” Glancing at a clock on the far wall, you winced internally at the time. Was it really that late? “I thought a few more crew members were still here but I suppose it is far too late to expect that.”

The man’s mouth seemed to purse as he took a small step into the room, arms folding over his chest and head tilting to look at the screens you had been watching. After a moment, he scoffed and shook his head a bit.

“Cannae believe DJ peck neck would leave an intern on film review. At least he could have given yer a second set of eyes!”

It was clear he saw how tired you were but you quickly blinked a few times and straightened your posture, hoping to look a little more awake.

“I’m quite alright by myself! I mean, I know everyone is so busy and I’m only an intern, I can take some of the load off everyone else’s backs.”

It was true. You worked your ass off through the day and throughout the filming process, but even then you were nowhere near as busy as the actual film workers. They couldn’t be expected to overwork themselves, otherwise filming would be interrupted. You’d had intern jobs before, granted none in the movie-making industry, but each time your job mostly consisted of making the load easier of the more important people. Whether you had been brainwashed into believing this was how being an intern was supposed to go or not, the Conductor seemed to disagree.

“Yer done enough for today. I can see those circles under ye eyes, and considerin’ ye certainly are no owl I think it’s time yer head in for the day.”

“But, sir, what about– ”

“Aye, don’t ye worry about ol’ Grooves. He isnae yer only boss, and if he has a word to say about it next time he sees ye just send him me way! Come along then, lassie! I can walk ye to yer apartment.”

Blinking slowly, you watched the bird man walk back out into the studio, hearing the distinct sound of doors being locked up and lights being shut off as you turned back to the wall of screens before you, clipboard still in hand. Could you afford to leave your work early? Would the Conductor really stick up for you if DJ Grooves had something harsh to say in the morning?

“Are ye comin’ lass?”

You glanced down to your clipboard, looking over the long list of timestamps and mistakes, listening to the hum of the screens for a few seconds before calling back.

“Coming, sir!”

The town had gone to sleep for the night, with only the pounding music from the club district giving any signs of life for several blocks. It had clearly rained recently as the cobblestones were still listening with puddles and a cool, crisp air brought goosebumps to your arms. Twas the downside of being a featherless human, you supposed. With no feathers to keep you warm and a very limited wardrobe you were used to walking through the cold to get back home some days. Though you certainly weren’t used to having company.

Beside you, the Conductor has his hands shoved in his pockets, rustling for a moment before pulling out what appeared to be a matchbox and a partly smoked cigar. You couldn’t help but watch in a mix of curiosity and confusion as he held the cigar between those pointed teeth and struck a match to life, the small flame bringing warm shades to his bright feathers as he lit up his preferred smoke. Had he always smoked cigars? You hadn’t spent much time working for him so perhaps he only did it in privacy, which would make sense as to why this was the first time you were seeing him do it.

As you watched the bird shove a hand back in his pocket and enjoy his smoke, what you didn’t realize was that he was watching you as well, and he spoke to you in an almost gentle tone as he held his cigar between his fingers and let the smoke roll from his mouth.

“Yer shiverin’, giriie. Ye that cold?”

Feeling a rush of warmth come to your face at your boss calling you out, you quickly looked back to the ground in front of your feet, doing your best to keep your shivering at bay with your arms folded over your chest.

“I-I’m fine, I swear! My apartment isn’t that far and it’s not that cold out so I’ll survive.”

Though you couldn’t see the way the Conductor's face scrunched up in a mix of thought and annoyance, you could almost feel it from the way he hummed in his throat. He didn’t say anything, however, and you expected him to leave it at that. What you weren’t expecting was for a warm jacket to be draped over your shoulders a moment later, and you definitely weren’t expecting to look over and find your boss with slightly ruffled feathers.

Reaching up to touch the collar of the warm jacket, your lips parted to retort but the owner was quick to beat you to it.

“That outta keep ye warm ‘til we get there, aye? Yer donae have the insulation like the rest of us, and if Grooves found out I walked ye home and let ye catch cold I’d nae hear the end of it!”

Another wave of heat found your face as you stared in soft wonderment at your boss. Was he truly such a gentleman, or was he merely keeping the studio's most active intern from getting ill? Those questions tumbled back and forth in your mind for a few moments until you noticed something you hadn’t before.

Now that his jacket was off you were given a view of the attire usually hidden beneath, but what intrigued you more than his fashion sense was his feathers… and just how fluffed they’d become. The Conductor was rather fluffy bird… thing… to begin with, but now, with his extra layer of warmth gone, it seemed he’d begun to fluff up slightly to keep himself warm. His ears and the smaller tufts on either side of his face were a little bigger, and there was some noticeable plumage peeking out from the one undone button on the collar his shirt. You knew birds ruffled their feathers for warmth, but in a town surrounded by the creatures, not once did it strike you that they would do such a thing.

“Thank you, sir. It’s very kind of you.”

The bird next to you let out a bit of a laugh before giving you an amused tone.

“Yer donae have to call me Mister and Sir all the time, lassie! Aye, I may be yer boss but I am nae a man for all them titles. Just call me Conductor, no need for all the professional mumbo jumbo.”

His bluntness took you by surprise. Never had you worked for a boss quite like the Conductor before, and you still weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. It seemed you’d have a little more time to think about it in the privacy of your own home though, as the bird pointed up towards an apartment complex, cigar between his talons.

“This is ye building, right? I’ll walk ye to the door, make sure ye get there nice and safe.”

Nodding silently, you keyed the pair of you into the apartment building, walking through the flickering lounge light and into the elevator before pressing the button for the fourth floor. Thankfully it seemed like the elevator was in working order today, with not even a flicker of the lights on your way up. Upon exiting, your small one-room apartment was the first to the right, so upon stepping out and before reaching to unlock your door, you began to shrug the jacket off your shoulders, but before you could get it off entirely the conductor was holding his hand up and shaking his head gently.

“But s- Conductor, won’t you need this?”

“Nah, lass, ye can hold on to it a while longer. I hear there’s supposed to be a nip in the air tomorrow morning and we can’t have yer gettin’ cold on the walk to the studio, aye? I’ve got more than one suit, and I’m nae expectin’ ye to keep it forever.”

With his cigar still clenched between his teeth, the yellow bird gave you a smile and nodded his head a bit before walking back to the elevator, leaving you standing in front of your door with his jacket and a strange feeling in your chest.

It was quite the feat on your part to manage sneaking into the studio the following morning without anyone noticing the fact that you were wearing you boss’ jacket. You were tempted to immediately go to his office and leave it there, but you decided that would look a bit suspicious and kept it neatly folded inside your messenger bag until a better time arose. Until then, you continued to rush about and work until you dropped.

Luckily, you weren’t left with another late job that day, and as you were packing up you realized you still had the Conductor’s jacket among your things. Keeping the folded article pressed to your chest, you made sure no one was out in the halls before making your way to the opposite end of the studio where the man’s office was. As you got deeper into his area of the studio, you could hear the hustle and bustle of some owls doing late night work, but with a few sneaky maneuvers on your part you managed to slip past undetected and made it to your boss’ office.

“Mr. Conductor? It’s me, may I come in?” You called inside with a gentle knock. There was a low grumble you took as permission, but you still opened the door slowly as if bracing for the worst.

Behind the door was an office you weren’t expecting. A desk made of some dark wood and stained a lovely hue of red sat in the center of the room, old movie posters of the director’s previous accomplishments hung in frames along the walls, a few lamps gave a warm light to the space and a few filing cabinets were placed about and filled with what you imagined to be movie scripts. At the desk, head in one hand and a glass of some alcohol in the other, was the Conductor himself. With the absence of his normal jacket he’d donned a different suit today, one that was a deep mahogany with a dark undershirt and tie. His current jacket was tossed aside and draped sadly on a corner of the expansive desk among the piles of crumpled papers. It was clear the man had been struggling with some sort of creative block and you couldn’t help but purse your lips. Looking back into the studio behind you, a moment passed before you closed the door behind you once again, placing aside your messenger bag and his folded jacket to take a seat in the closest free chair.

Once you sat down it seemed the bird finally noticed you and his head lifted from staring at the paper in front of him. A sort of crooked grin and weak chuckle was given to you as he forced himself to straighten up enough to slump back into his chair instead of hunch over the desk.

“Aye, lass, there ye are. I was – hic – I was wonderin’ if I’d see per pretty mug today. How are… how are ye? Is that DJ peck neck treatin’ yer well on set?”

Ignoring the strange airy feeling in your chest after being called pretty, you scooted closer to the desk in front of you and spoke softly to the drunken man.

“I’m treated fairly, he hasn’t yelled too harshly at me, yet. Thank you for averting what I’m sure would have been a nasty shouting session for leaving work early last night.”

“it was nothin’ lassie! I cannae let that peck neck pick on ye just because yer an intern. Intern yer may be, but ye do a smashin’ good job! Aye… with such a committed worker like ye I bet ol’ peck neck’s movie is going to win the annual bird movie awards this year.”

Looking away a bit, you fidgeted with a nearby pen on the edge of the desk.

“Actually… Mr. Grooves doesn’t take my advice on how his film could be improved. I’ve caught every mistake in the recording and acting and he won’t correct them. I’m not sure if he just refuses to listen to an intern or only cares about the dumb stardom stuff.”

Your confession seemed to catch the attention of the more serious director, leaning forward in his chair and setting aside in mostly empty whiskey glass now.

“That so, eh? Well I’ve seen yer workin’ on those shoddy recordings of his, and if he refuses to accept your criticism and advice then he’s just some – hic – some peck neck gone crazy on bird seed! I would give anything to have an intern like you on my crew right about now. Aye, poor Wesley cannae get a fresh film idea and the owls are no help.”

So that’s why he was moping around with a drink. He had lost his film-making groove and needed some inspiration. Or maybe… he needed an outside opinion.

“Well,”you started slowly, catching the little lift of his ear tufts as you got his attention, “considering how Mr. Grooves won’t take my advice, perhaps I could offer it to you and your crew, instead.”

You could see how the Conductor’s ear tufts wiggled a bit, whether it was out of thought or excitement you weren’t sure, but his mouth pursed for a moment and he tapped his talons on the desk a few time before turned to face you once more.

“If DJ peck neck cannae appreciate what ye bring to the table, then I certainly can. Startin’ tomorrow morning yer on my crew, and you willnae be catchin’ me ignorin’ that valuable input of yours.”

“No, no no! It’s all wrong! Are any of ye peck necks actually actors?!”

Several weeks had passed since you began work with the Conductor on his movie. It had taken both of you long enough to come up with a script, something rather new for his usual tastes but still in the ballpark, and you’d managed to fill almost every role with good actors. Now there was only one slot left, the most important one, and the one that was giving you the most trouble.

You were still searching for someone to fill the role of the main female lead and love interest.

When the drunken bird had told you in his private moment of weakness that he would never ignore your advice and criticism, he truly meant it, and since then you’d been something akin to his personal assistant. Sometimes he swore you knew more about film-making than he did with the quality tips you gave. You had even been the one to suggest the love interest in the story as a fresh new element to his usual tales, and you had been a great deal of help in helping him along the way. With this in mind, he pressed his hands over his face a mumbled to his side where you stood, clipboard in hand.

“Lassie, could ye please show these buffoons what we’re looking for in this character? It seems not a single owl can perform without havin’ their hands held.”

Nodding firmly, you placed aside the items you held and snatched up a spare script, making your way onto the auditioning stage and into the spotlight. You had written almost every line for this character so you barely had to glance at the printed words as you cleared your throat and began to act. You were nowhere near the professional level of acting, but you still knew how to put on a show.

Your voice was strong, your movement fluid, and every bird on set seemed impressed by the talent of a simple intern as you took upon the role of Lady Cynthia.

“I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I’ll always think of you, and the time we spent together, as my happiest time. I’d do it all over again, if I had the choice. No regrets.”

Pulling his hands away from his face, the Conductor couldn’t prevent his jaw from dropping as he raised his head and watched you perform. Was it just the spotlight giving you that radiant glow or was he just imagining things? The passion and palatable emotion in every word you breathed made his feathers ruffle. Leaning forward in his seat, he stared on in pure awe as you continued the brief scene.

“I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

As you finished, the Conductor felt his heart soar, barely hearing the clap of every other bird on the set. You, meanwhile, smiled shyly and felt a rush of heat flood your face, taking a small bow before beginning to walk off the stage. You’d made it halfway across and were out of the bright limelight when the director barked out once more.

“Alright! That’s a wrap for today! We’ve got our choice for Lady Cynthia!”

You stopped in place on stage, giving your boss an odd look and arching a brow before he focused his attention on you, a wide grin on his face and his ear tufts wiggling a bit out of glee.

“Lassie, we’re gonna make ye a star! Yer the only one who can so flawlessly capture Miss Cynthia’s character!”

Dropping the script you held to the ground, the papers scattered about your feet and your entire face went red as you stammered to your boss.

“M-me?!”

By now you were two weeks into filming and the Conductor was as pleased as punch at how progress was going. With the sudden decision to make you, a human woman the role of Lady Cynthia you had spent a number of days in the costume department, being poked and prodded for every outfit you'd be required to wear at some point in the film.

Most of your scenes so far hadn’t been major, but today was your first real chance to shine. Today you were due to film the first romantic moment between Lady Cynthia and the main protagonist, and truthfully, you were nervous. You’d been spending the last hour or so pacing back and forth in the caboose of the Owl Express, the Conductor’s pride and joy and where most of the day’s scenes would be taking place. It was still at the moment, with the crew preparing for filming and the actors prepping, but you were too nervous to even think of glancing over your lines right now.

Your personal script sat atop a crate inside the car, and you currently leaning against the railing in the back. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the scene for the romance shot, and you couldn’t help but give a heavy sigh and take off the large hat you were to wear, allowing the gentle breeze to caress your face.

From behind you, someone cleared you throat, and as you turned you were met with the director, his jacket left behind somewhere and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. Considering you were planning to film in the desert, you could only image how hot he was under those feathers, you were ready to melt in the over-the-top dress you were practically sewn into. Something about the Conductor’s body language made it seem like he was also nervous, and out of reflex you asked, “Is something on your mind, Conductor?”

With a soft hum, the bird shook his head, reaching up to scratch at the feathers on the back of his neck.

“Nae donae worry about me, lass, I’m perfectly fine. Yer look like the one who’s nervous, though.”

Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair, looking out over the desert where the crew was working to load all the equipment onto the train.

“I just… I’ve never acted before, especially not in a high budget movie as the main love interest. I won’t lie, I’m nervous about today’s scene. What if I mess it up? What if I’m not emotionally convincing? I’ve got so many worries and I don’t want to risk looking at the script and making my nerves worse.”

The pair of you were silent for a few moments until you heard the rustling of paper and turned your attention back to your boss. The Conductor had picked up your copy of the script and flipped through until he stopped about two-thirds of the way in, where you could only assume the aforementioned romance scene was. You could see him scanning over the scene before he looked up to you, keeping the script in one hand and taking a step forward. You had no chance to question what he was doing before he took your hand in his, pressing it to his chest, directly over his heart, and you immediately knew just as he began to speak.

“Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. You deserve the world, and I know I can’t give that to ye. So I’ll give ye the next best thing: my world.”

Your chest swelled and you felt yourself get a little weak in the knees as the Conductor put on his best acting and took the place of the main protagonist and Lady Cynthia’s love interest, fully intending to act this scene out with you to calm your worries. So, taking a small breath, you recalled your own lines and replied easily to him.

“I have no need for such grand gestures, darling. Your hand holding mine is enough, this is how the galaxies collide. All I desire is to be near you, to gaze upon your face and know that my heart undeniably belongs to you.”

The Conductor gave a dreamy sigh and lifted your hand from his chest to the side of his face, where you cupped his cheek in your hand and felt your heart flutter. Those feathers were so soft, and as you stroked your thumb over the warmth of his face you watched as he grew fluffier than usual. Was he feeling unwell? There was no way your acting was drawing such a reaction out of him.

“I crossed a thousand leagues of sand and sky to come to ye, and lost the best part of me along the way. Donae tell me to leave.”

“Never, my love. Never leave.”

Abruptly standing, the Conductor swept you up in his arms, dipping you low as the protagonist was meant to do in the scene and you knew where this was headed.

“Yer are so amazingly…wonderfully…beautifully…awesomely…most definitely the most precious of all precious things.”

There must’ve been stars in your eyes as you draped your arms around the bird’s neck, not daring to pull yourself closer and break the scene as you watched him slowly begin to lean in. There was to be a kiss after he spoke that line, there was no way he was actually going to kiss you. He was a dedicated actor, you had watched the films he’d stared in himself, but if he was actually going to do this during an impromptu practice run then it was a whole other level of commitment.

But as you watched him draw close, part of you realized you wanted this.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you were fully prepared to kiss your boss before you heard some frustrated voices nearby, and both of you whipped your heads over to the source. A small crowd of owls had gathered with a filming camera and they had apparently been filming your little interaction with the director, which sent a wave of heat through your face and to the very tips of your ears. The Conductor quickly pulled you back to your feet, catching yourself on the railing so you wouldn’t collapse out of embarrassment as the furious fluff ball poofed up even more out of embarrassment and snapped at his crew.

“ What the peck do ye peck necks think yer doing?! Get ye tails in gear and load those cameras onto me Owl Express and that film better be destroyed in the next minute! ”

Watching the director storm off, you fanned yourself with your large costume hat, deciding that the impromptu practice had indeed helped. If you just pictured the owl plating the main character as the Conductor, you may just be able to give a flawless performance. And maybe, if you had the confidence, you’d ask him after filming today if he could help you practice the true romance scene at the end of the movie. Your acting was probably good enough to make yourself seem nervous again. But then again, after what the Conductor just tried to pull, perhaps you didn’t need to act.