#sebardwolf

Remember, we all like the same source material which contains dark and mature subjects! Ship and let ship and be kind to the real people voting!

No Man's Land

Terry falls in line behind me as we trudge out of the woods and away from the ridge overlooking the battlefield.

My unit cheers when they see us coming, and I can't help but crack a smile. I haven't heard them sound this happy since I shot a buck and we all got to have fresh meat for a couple of days.

"I told ya Terry could talk him into it!" Thomas elbows Jimmy in the ribs. "Come on Cap'n! We got fresh tack and dried meat! But best of all…"

He whips out a bottle of some sort of lager from behind the tree stump he's sitting upon, and he takes a hearty swig before I can advise against it. "We got rum!"

"Already saw Wolfram drink some." Terry murmurs only loud enough for me to hear. "It's safe."

"Wolfram?"

The beast of a man dwarfs my men as he takes a seat next to them on an overturned crate that he's too damned big for. "Ja."

He glares up at me with eyes of chartreuse green and bites into a fist-sized chunk of dried meat, and I watch the cords of his neck flex and his straw colored hair bounce as he jerks his head back to tear it apart.

Jesus. His name is fitting enough.

His features are handsomely chiseled and severe. “Das essen ist sicher.”

"He speak any English?" I ask Terry.

"Unfortunately, he does not." The major says as he approaches. His English is crisp with only a ghost of an accent. He removes his hat, and raven hair which has grown out just past his jaw tumbles free around his eyes, a testament to how long he has been out here. "However, he does understand some English.”

He extends his hand. “Major Michaelis.”

I take and shake it. “Captain Bardroy Wilson.”

“I was hoping to speak with you and discuss the terms of our truce in detail, if you would be so kind as to spare me a moment of your time."

The view through the scope really didn't do either of these two justice.

Wolfram is fucking massive- he looks like he was designed by nature to be a man-eater. Like a lion, he's built with thick slabs of muscle, and his presence boasts effortless power. Dangerous at rest, and unstoppable in motion. I'd sooner tangle with a grizzly than him.

But as for the major, he's too damned pretty to be out here in the field. He looks more like an artist's muse with his pale skin and androgynous features and perfectly molded lips.

The son of a bitch is gorgeous, really. If I’m being completely honest, they both are.

"Sure." I agree.

"Excellent. My tent, then, if you will." He leads the way.

We pass several groups of our people mingling, huddling together and playing cards, passing cigarettes and sharing food and drink. Many are guarded and cautiously optimistic. Others are simply thrilled to be doing something besides trudging through muddy trenches, and they dive right in to being friendly with the men they were ready to kill not an hour ago.

One trio roars with laughter. I see the youngest member of my unit sputtering as he samples alcohol for the first time, and he coughs and asks the Germans on either side of him why in the Hell they would drink something that tastes so awful.

"Why?" One says, and pulls out a photograph of what I can only guess to be his sweetheart. "Because of her."

Judging by the way the kid's eyes bug, it's a safe bet to assume she's naked. The Germans howl at his scandalized reaction and pat him on the back.

"It has been months since my men have laughed." The major remarks, and his lips curve into a beguiling smile.

He glances back at me, and without the brim of his hat blocking the sun I can see that those eyes are a rich, whiskey-amber hue, flecked with gold. They almost seem to glow in contrast with the dark sweeps of his feathery lashes.

I ain't never seen a man have eyelashes that long and pretty. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen anyone quite as beautiful as him.

A thick swallow works it's way down my throat

"Yeah." I say. "They do seem happy."

********************************************************

Yep, I'm starting yet another AU. Sorry Not sorry. 😂

This one takes place during World War II.

I am still debating on the main pairing, but it is most likely going to be yet another polyship, between Sebastian, Bardroy, and Wolfram.

Sebardwolf Omegaverse Werewolf AU

Since I wasn’t able to write this year, I came up with a headcanon and made a moodboard for it.

Both Bard and Wolf are alphas, the leaders of their packs. They could have any pick of omegas, but they’re each fixated on a beta—Sebastian. He’s no easy catch, which is part of why both Wolf and Bard want him. Why go for an omega that will throw themself at you when you can enjoy the thrill of the hunt???

A hand clad in a black leather glove offers the silver flask to Thomas.

Thomas is jumpy, distrusting. But he knows damned well this is our only chance. Rapid clouds of his nervous breath puff from his lips, sending curls of steam drifting up into the dove-gray sky. Carefully, he takes it, and tips it back for a swig.

The flask is passed around, the Germans drinking afterward, and one slowly lays down his arms. Another follows his example. Then my unit cautiously follows suit.

Blowing out a shaking, stale breath of relief, I let my muscles uncoil.

I move my scope to their leader, a short distance away. The brim of a black cap hides his eyes as he looks down, his palm shielding the flame of his lighter from the wind as he fires up a cigarette. With his hands out of the way, I count four silver diamonds on his collar patch. A major.

He's tall and broad-shouldered, but rather slim, dressed in a black field trench coat, black gloves and black boots. Taking a drag, he glances up- and his gaze is sharp enough to pierce through steel.

Might look like the devil, but I'd bet that I could kick his willowy ass with one arm tied behind my back. By appearances he reads as relatively relaxed, though his eyes flicker with that same brittle anxiety that I also feel skittering down my spine. I think he puts about as much faith in this truce as I do.

But we had no choice. It was either a ceasefire, or we all would have died- either by the enemy or elements.

At the beginning of the week, we were subjected to heavy rainfall and the trenches went from being ankle-deep to knee-deep with water in just three days. Ammunition and a good portion of our rations are now not only unappetizingly wet, but running perilously low. To top it off, it's December and fucking freezing at night here in the Hürtgen forest. Two of my men have already died of exposure from being cold and wet.

One more night of thunderstorms would have made the water in the trenches waist or even chest-deep, and then we all would have been forced from cover and into No Man's Land, making us sitting ducks.

I scribbled out a short letter using Thomas' charcoal stick onto a handkerchief. It was barely legible and I could only pray that someone on their side could read English. I stuffed the corner of it into the end of a rifle and raised it as high as possible, and the gunfire fell silent.

"Feuerpause!" Someone hollered from the other side. "Sie wollen eine Feuerpause!"

I had no idea what they were saying, but the fact that they stopped firing was a good sign.

"Nicht schießen! Bringt in Erfahrung was sie wollen!"

Thomas then volunteered to crawl out of the trench and navigate the maze of barbed wire and scorched earth known as No Man's Land to pass the letter to what I assume to be their most expendable soldier, who limped towards him to retrieve it.

We waited with bated breath as the message was taken to their leader, who then ordered his men to stand down.

When a few of the Germans hauled themselves up out of the trenches, they were also soaked to the bone.

I ordered Thomas and Terry to build a fire with what dry tinder they could find, and I would take up a vantage point and assess the situation from the high ground, because I am still not certain they won't take advantage of this opportunity to smoke us once we're out in the open.

And I know I'm being paranoid, not to mention rude by looking a gift horse in the mouth, but be too trusting out here, and you'll wind up dead in a heartbeat.

During the Great War, an impromptu truce was made between German and British soldiers.

At the first light of dawn on Christmas Day, some German soldiers emerged from their trenches and approached the Allied lines across No Man's Land, calling out "Merry Christmas" in their enemies' native tongues. At first, the Allied soldiers feared it was a trick, but seeing the Germans unarmed they climbed out of their trenches and shook hands with the enemy soldiers. The men even exchanged presents of cigarettes and plum puddings and sang carols and songs.

But I don't give a damn about plum puddings and carols. I just want to get my men out of here alive, and I'm betting they want the same. Putting my fear aside and hoping lightning will strike twice, I made the first step in a last ditch effort to save my unit.

The major gestures to the beast of a man at his side to join the others in having a drink, and I can see his second in command is as hesitant as I am to let his guard down.

Now this guy, holy shit. The word berserker comes to mind. He's easily six-foot-four and as broad as a barn. I don't doubt it'd take more than five men to bring him down in a brawl. Were it not for their difference in uniforms, I would have assumed he was the one calling the shots.

Dead leaves crunch beneath heavy boots behind me. "I'm pretty sure your plan worked."

"Looks that way. For the moment, anyhow."

"Don't be so uptight, Bard." Terry insists. "It's Christmas!"

The major exhales a cloud of smoke, and then that razor sharp gaze snaps up directly to me.

Shit.

"It's the eighteenth. And don't be so quick to drop your guard." With a sigh, I reluctantly pull away from my sniper's scope, then push myself up off the ground and brush the wet leaves off of my knees. "We still need to be careful. Nothing is set in stone just yet."

*******************************************************

Hey, anon! A few months back (for those who don’t know/remember) I did a moodboard/HC with sebardwolf, where Wolf and Bard were alphas competing for Beta Sebastian.

I like the idea of the two alphas chasing someone who normally wouldn’t even be on their radar and isn’t a default catch. The thrill of the hunt, of subduing someone who might not willingly submit….

I think I like the idea of Seb as a beta bc every omegaverse I’ve seen for kuro (that’s been posted) has been sebaciel and with alpha Seb. So that’s boring to me, lol. (Though keep in mind it’s not a trope i go looking for, so there may be more variety out there than I think.)

I had a friend who left the fandom who had a great idea where he was an unwilling omega, and I wish they’d continued it….

But anyway, you know me and I love polyships! The more the merrier.

I love Sebardagni, so I would be game for that. Two alphas together could make for a an interesting story. Imagine Alpha Bard and Alpha Seb wanting each other, and not an omega….

Honestly that’s not too far a stretch from how I see their canon relationship. 🤣

Anon, I was so thrilled when I got this ask because I almost never get smutty asks like this!! 🔥 I’m sorry I couldn’t respond sooner.

I absolutely love the idea of Bard being taken on both ends at once... I’ve always HC Agni as a rough lover—yeah he’s a sweetheart now but he was a criminal once, and that side of him comes out when he fucks.

So Wolf is pounding Bard from behind and Agni is choking him on his cock, just gripping his hair tight and forcing his cock balls deep down Bard’s throat. Drool dribbling down his chin, Wolf’s huge hands leaving bruises on Bard’s hips. The big German murmuring curses in his native tongue as he thrusts harder and harder, chasing his release but at the same time never wanting this to end. Bard clearly doesn’t bottom too often because he’s so fucking tight and hot and fuccckk... and looking up and seeing that beautiful Indian man with a devilish smirk as he forces his cock into a greedy mouth???

And meanwhile, Bard’s own cock is hard and heavy between his legs, leaking pre-cum on the floor as he struggles to remain in one position as he’s plowed from both ends.

Perhaps Agni praises Bard for how beautiful he looks taking his cock. Maybe he rewards him by pulling him off just long enough for him to take a deep breath before shoving his huge cock back in that delicious mouth.

Seb would wonder why the poor chef can’t seem to walk or talk right the next day... is he coming down with something?

But also imagine— Seb/Bard/Agni/Wolf — Seb is so fucking sassy, it would be nice to see him stuffed so full the only sounds he can make are muffled moans.

Bard and Agni DPing him while Wolf shoves his enormous, thick cock in that fangy mouth, tugging hard on his black hair every time he gets a bit too devilish with those dangerous teeth, the pain making the demon’s dick twitch, clenching around the two men inside him.

Bard on his back, looking up at Seb’s lips stretched wide around Wolf’s cock, Seb’s dick hard between them as Agni thrusts from behind, hand wrapped around Seb’s throat, shivering each time his cock rubs over the head of Bard’s dick inside that tight hole.

In this position, Bard can’t move much, except to scratch his fingernails along Seb’s thighs, biting his lip at how beautiful and debauched that perfect butler is right now, how he grunts and growls whenever Bard teases his neglected cock. Squeezing it, fisting it, slow strokes. Releasing it, watching the precum collect and stick in thin strands before smoothing it around the head, making Sebastian’s back arch, desperate for more.

None of them can last long in this torturous dance, and as much as they love to come inside Sebastian, the satisfaction in pulling out and coating his body in cum is far more alluring. Skin flushed, completely used and gaping... and hard again before any of the other men can even catch their breath.