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reiderwriter · 6 months

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hi! I just wanted to say I think your writing is so good and you seem like a lovely person 🥰 I’m hoping to request a post prison Spencer smut. Basically it’s when he’s just been released and he’s so touch starved and possessive over you? I’m such a sucker for prison Reid I can’t 😅

A/N: Nothing hotter than a man who looks like he has been through hell, and dear GOD, is post-Prison Spencer DELECTABLE. Thank you for your request!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni. Penetrative sex, creampie, slight dom/sub themes, use of pet names, spoilers for s12 of Criminal Minds, mentions of prison, mentions of blood/ wounds and injuries sustained in prison.

The seconds ticked down as you waited for the key to be pushed into the lock, the door to swing open and for your life to be put back together. 84 days and you were on edge, almost three months without him.

Your leg shook as you waited, heard the footsteps coming up the hall. You stood, wiping the sweat off your hands and taking a deep breath.

You hadn't been allowed to visit Spencer in prison, his teammates taking priority as they worked to keep him safe, to get him out. You hadn't seen him in three months, though you'd moved yourself into his house to be able to wrap yourself in his scent, haunt yourself with his presence.

He wasn't a ghost anymore, as he opened the door and you found your eyes on Spencer Reid for the first time in too long.

“Spencer,” you voice was pathetically small, as if you didn't trust him to be real anymore. You supposed that was probably justified. Your entire body was on edge as you looked him up and down.

Before, he'd keep himself clean shaved, but you found yourself greatly appreciative of the stubble framing his face. He'd never been the best at taking care of his hair, and now it looked perfectly ready for you to run your hands through. His clothes were still messy and by god did you want to grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him back into you.

“You're still here,” his voice was nearly as weak as your own, as if he'd not used it for nearly as much as it should've been used. “I know they said you were but… god I'm so happy you're still here.”

He took a step closer to you and pulled you towards him. You weren't used to Spencer initiating physical contact like this, his hands strong and certain on your hips as he grabbed you, one hand coming up to the back of your head to cradle it and push you further into him.

You melted into the touch, finally feeling warm after the coldest spring of your life.

“You can't get rid of me that easily, Spencer.”

“Good,” he said, tilting your head up and not hesitating even one beat before he pushed his lips against yours. His grip was hot as you let out a soft moan into his mouth, taken aback by his sudden affection.

Before prison, you'd been quietly intimate. A soft kiss here and there, and some awkward and tender sex. While you didn't mind your earlier boundaries, you certainly weren't mourning them now, gripping his shirt tighter as his tongue began exploring you. You'd been happy just to be in his presence before, but now you needed to be so close that you could no longer find where his body stopped and yours started.

When you lifted your leg, he instantly took your hint and pulled you up, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Not breaking from your kiss for longer than a breath, he dropped everything to carry you back to the bedroom.

“84 days.” You gasped between kisses as he dropped you on the bed, falling down with you as he moved his attention to your neck, your chest, your bared throat.

A growl was all the reply he had to that, knowing instantly what you were talking about, but needing to feel you more, to pull comfort from the warmth of your body.

“84 days and I thought with each of them that I would never do it again. You're never leaving me again, I wouldn't survive. I'd refuse.”

“84 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes. Every lone moment thinking about this and you, and being here again,” he said, pulling back again to stare directly at your bared soul.

“I need to feel you now, Y/N. Please, be a good girl and let me.”

If you could will your own clothes away, you would've at that moment, already aware of the mounting pleasure pooling between your legs.

Instead, Spencer handled it for you, tearing where he couldn't unbutton fast enough, divesting you of shirt and skirt and beginning to work your underwear slowly down your legs. At the same time, you pushed yourself up, scrambling to unbutton his own shirt, moaning in frustration as you struggled to get it pushed off his shoulders.

“Spencer, clothes off, now,” you begged, and he finally paused for a second.

“I'm different. Not a lot, but there are some…wounds. Don't be alarmed.”

“Spencer, if you think a few cuts and bruises are going to dampen the absolute desire I have burning for you, you are dumber than I thought.” Taking his momentary surprise to your advantage, you pushed him up and straddled his lap, sitting together with him as you rid him of his clothes.

You traced hands over every ridge of his skin, trying to document every change and appreciate every line. Tracing your way downward, you let your hand disappear into his lap as you looked up at him again, catching his eye as your fingers unbuttoned his pants.

His hand stroked lazily across your cunt but his eyes locked with yours and you found yourself aching with a need for him.

Before, he'd been thorough about foreplay, making sure you were absolutely ready for him, ensuring your pleasure and bringing you to climax before he even palmed himself through his pants.

It was generous, and everything you didn't want right now. You needed him to get everything he'd missed, needed to see him relaxed, pleasured, sunk deep inside of you and losing himself with each stroke.

You softly pressed a kiss to his lips, releasing him from his pants. A few strokes was enough to have him at full mast, and in another moment you were pushing yourself up on your knees and sinking back down.

Three months and you'd almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you, steadying yourself with hands on his shoulders as you bit back a whorish moan.

“Good girl, just like I remember…” his words came out slurred, as of he were drunk on the feeling of you, intoxicated as you began rocking your hips up and down his length.

“I'm better than you remembered,” you mumbled, stroking the small soft curls at the base of his neck. It was ridiculous being jealous of your past self, but god did you want to grab the you of January and shake her within an inch of her life.

You'd tell her to grab Spencer Reid and never let him go, to make him spend his entire life filling you up, to pleasure him until he hadn't a single thought of going anywhere.

You kept up your pace, riding him at an even pace, making sure to lower yourself down as far as you could manage without becoming a moaning mess, but soon the pleasure became overwhelming.

Spencer kept one hand working over your clit, and you had to resist falling apart in his hands, determined to pleasure him before you thought of taking that same ecstasy for yourself.

“It's okay, Y/N, you can let go. I know how long you've waited for this,” his words were soft but his tone was demanding, ordering you to cum on his cock. He lifted his hips slightly, grabbing your hips in his hand as he took charge of the pace and strength of your thrusts, going harder and faster than you'd been able to manage.

You loathed to give up control, bit your body betrayed you, thighs shaking as you gave into his wishes, cumt clenching around him as you rode out your orgasm.

“That's it, nice and tight for me.” He grunted the words into your ear as he really took control. Tipping you until you were again flat on your back, he lifted his hips up and let his pace speed up, rutting into you deeply as he breathed in your scent, head buried in your hair, arms tight around your waist.

You moaned for him, knowing he loved every sound that passed your lips, knowing that he craved the knowledge of your pleasure.

He, too, didn't hold back. His voice filled your ear, filling your brain with every fantasy, every memory of you that had kept him alive for 84 days of hell.

Each story was lustier than the last, your mouth dropping open in a moan as you, too, imagined him in each of the scenarios he'd spent time on in prison.

You across his desk, his head between your legs in the morning, you in his cell, him inside you in public, the red scratches your nails dragged against his skin that had been commented on in the showers.

You'd guided his through 84 days of hell, and you were finally embracing him on the other side.

“Y/N, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna- shit.”

To your surprise, he didn't pull out as he usually would, but instead slammed himself deeper as he began releasing string after string of his sperm into you.

“Shit. I'm sorry I should've asked if that was…”

“I don't care. Just next time, make sure you do that again.” The feeling of his cum inside you was enough to push your body over the edge once again, and you panted as the aftershocks continued milking his cock.

“I missed you.” He whispered, pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he stared at you with all the love in the world.

“I missed you more.” You whispered back, and you meant it.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #reiderslibrary #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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nonotnolan · 27 days

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Jock Cock, Part 1

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Adam Johnson, next year's star quarterback and this year's bane of my existence, looked up at me with his baby blue eyes. If he was trying to look small and unintimidating, it would have worked better without carrying 200+ pounds of muscle on a six foot frame.

Well, if he wanted to be melodramatic, two could play that game. "You know full well why I called you here, Adam." I thumped the stack of papers on my desk for emphasis. "You've been failing ECON 105 all semester, but suddenly you can score an 83% on the final exam? It's enough to get you D- in this class. It's not a perfect score, but it's still enough for you to avoid academic probation."

His face flashed with a brief moment of irritation before setting back into his normal, casual stupor. "Well, I wasn't studying before, and now I did. It's not like I scored all that great... sir."

"We both know that you don't know what 'sustainability' means, Adam. You tried to fly under the radar, you didn't cheat your way into a 100%... but it's still cheating. We both know that academic misconduct is a serious crime." I tried my best to sound stern and disappointed, but it was hard to be angry at a face this sexy.

Adam just laughed at me. "And if you could prove it, you wouldn't be calling me into a private meeting, would you?" He leaned back into a shit-eating grin, displaying his dazzling white teeth. This asshole had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"I checked every single essay!" I said, pounding the stack of papers once again. "Every essay, in every single TA's session of this class. You didn't plagiarize... but we both know this isn't your style of writing. And we watched you like a hawk during the exam itself, so you didn't cheat that way, either."

Adam leaned close into my face. "Professor Michaels has no idea that you called me in here, does he? You're just a Teaching Assistant on a power trip, and it's all because you can't stand knowing how I did it." He was right, and I hated him for it. Worse, when he stood this close to me, I could smell the musk of his body.

"Tell you what," he added, pulling off his tank top to reveal a set of firm abs. "You let me get away with this... sign off on my scores, whatever you need to do... and I'll let you live out one of your deepest, darkest fantasies." He struck a pose, showing off both his rippling muscles and his hairy pits. "We both know that you'll never get jock cock any other way. Come on, Teach. You want this."

Was I really that easy to read? "I-- I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Look, if you're going to stick to your lie about studying, then you can just leave. I don't... there's no need to insult my moral character. You're a student, Adam."

He responded by leaning in close to me, and placing his hand on top of my bulge. "Your body betrays you," he whispered, letting his fingers massage my inner thigh. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not your student. Adam and I swapped bodies so that I could take all of his final exams."

"I... yes, well..." That was the last thing I expected him to say, but it would explain a lot if it were true, somehow. It seemed much more likely than a desirable athlete like Adam coming onto me, at the very least.

"Be that as it may," I said, grabbing his hand and moving it away before my cock started leaking though my slacks, "that body still belongs to one of my students. And I still have meetings to attend today, so if we're done here..."

Adam, or the stranger in Adam's body, just laughed at me. "You're the one who wanted to have this meeting, remember? But that's fine, I know when I'm not wanted. But here's the thing-- once you submit grades at end of day, Adam's not your student anymore." He started typing something on his phone. "And honestly, I expected this from you. You're so uptight. Good thing you gave everyone your cell phone number on the syllabus at the start of the year. So if you change your mind... now you can have Adam's number, and a bonus pic from me."

"I know you don't know the real me, but trust me Kevin-- I've wanted to plow that uptight hole of your for months. And in this body, I've actually got a shot at it." The stranger slapped my ass before I could react, and swaggered out of the room. Whoever was inside of Adam's body, they knew my first name.

I looked at the retreating wall of shoulder muscles, and down at the teasing bathroom selfie the stranger sent to me. God help me, I was only human. And he was right-- how else was I going to get jock cock? He wasn't a student, not really, and that's what mattered. "You win. Tonight at 8pm, my place. Bring lube."

#male body swap #gay body swap #after the swap #nerd to jock #muscle jock #queer romance #gay male story #jock cock

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lialacleaf · 10 months

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To Care For A Woman

Chapter 1

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not... Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Simon's POV

A fear tactic. That's what Johnny called it. The infamous Ghost. The Reaper of The Night. The man, myth, and legend that was coming to act as a vengeful reaper and mercilessly take the lives of those who got in his way.

His reputation preceded him. A reputation he never intended to have. The point was never to be something for others to fear. A Ghost couldn't be seen. A Ghost couldn't be touched. Most importantly, a Ghost couldn't be hurt. Simon was safe if he was dead.

Until he wasn't.

You were just some stupid rooky who joined the army so they'd pay for your college tuition. You had the same sob story most people did. No money, no marital prospects, and not enough education to obtain a job that would sustain you in a struggling economy. No one was coming to save you, so you made a decision to save yourself.

"Mom and Dad were barely making things work financially, I couldn't be a burden anymore," you explained once as you sat next to Soap in the helicopter, your head barely reaching the shoulders of the men and women you were seated around.

It made Ghost's stomach drop, no, Simon's stomach. You were fragile and had no business having that battle rifle in your small, soft hands. People like you were supposed to have options. At least Simon believed so.

How was he supposed to give you orders as if he didn't know you had a higher chance of not making it back? He just wanted to leave you on base, wrapped up in bubble wrap for good measure. When he looked into your eyes there was still a softness there, a feminine light that hadn't been beaten out of you just yet. The idea of seeing it vanish terrified him. It made his chest ache.

You didn't need to know that however, and as far as anyone knew, Lieutenant Ghost despised you. He told you to secure the landing zone for when they got back or left you behind to keep watch on every mission possible. You were convinced the large, masked man saw you as a disgrace to the 141 and was embarrassed to have such a small fry on his team. At least that was the gossip you picked up here and there. He didn't want you to see any action, that much was clear.

"You're up late."

Simon glanced in your direction as he stirred the honey in his tea, his grip on the chipped mug, the porcelain stained on the inside from many years of holding hot coffee, tightening ever so slightly. You were seated in one of the kitchen chairs, legs folded in on yourself as you sipped at your own steaming mug.

He didn't respond and went about dumping his tea bag in the wastebasket. He needed to not look at you in your soft leggings that hugged your figure with that baggy 141 sweatshirt that despite being a size small was still too big for you. You'd be swallowed whole in his clothes, and that was a sight that a very primal part of his brain wanted to see.

There was something about you being so delicate that made him want to press his lips against the curve of your jaw and tell Price to go to hell for not assigning you more office work instead of sending you out with his men.

He had to keep his mind in his upstairs brain, however, lest he risk your life and others in the field. He wouldn't be responsible for you getting hurt.

"I'm sorry," you said all of a sudden.

"What for?" he didn't look up from his mug as he took a sip.

"For being...being a liability that you have to plan for."

He let out a tired sigh. "What happened to going to college?" he disregarded your apology.

"What?"

"Heard you tell Soap you joined the army so you could get into college, that clearly never happened."

You coughed awkwardly. "I got a little lost along the way." You didn't know what to study. Didn't know where to apply. Didn't know what you really wanted out of it other than a career that would make you money. "The 141 offered me a good salary, no need to waste tax dollars on a degree I wouldn't even know what to do with."

You shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. You should have someone taking care of all of that so you could read books, go on walks, and grow a garden. You didn't seem like the type who worked because they wanted to, you did it because you had to.

The part of Simon that had watched his mother go to work grueling hours at the local diner just to support his father's addictions hated that. The part of him that had watched her slowly lose her feminine glow and replace it with withered steel to accommodate the survival of herself and her boys stung. He wasn't supposed to feel this hurt. He was supposed to be a Ghost. But the overwhelming urge to care for you was making that difficult.

He set his tea down on the counter and let out a huff as he approached you. Your hair was wet, and you had clearly just come from the shower. He suspected you showered later to avoid the others, specifically the men.

And boy did that thought have him grinding his teeth. If you were his woman, you'd be using his own private quarters to clean up. No prying eyes, not even his own.

"What would you have done if none of that was of any concern?" he asked, and you let out a soft little laugh.

"You'd have me anywhere but here, huh?" you said with a raised brow.

Simon tilted his masked face downward to pin you with a stare that made you swallow thickly, brown eyes boring into your own.

He'd have you dolled up in his cabin back home doing whatever the hell you pleased, painting pretty pictures, baking sweet bread, he bet you would like riding horses too.

"I'd have you safe, y/n."

He didn't say another word to you as he turned around, picked up his mug, and left you to watch him go with wide eyes.

He didn't want to take you on the mission, but Price said they needed someone small enough to sneak in through the warehouse's ventilation system and gather intel.

Price told him not to worry, and that you were a clever girl. That didn't ease his mind in the slightest. He had the scope of his sniper trained on the building, watching for any alarming movement.

"Confirmed intel on the location of the arms dealer and their client, ready to regroup, L.T.?" you whispered into your radio.

"Affirmative, meet us at evac," he replied, motioning for Soap to follow him. The other soldiers under his command had been circling the warehouse from a distance, looking for any sign of trouble. He had just about allowed his shoulders to relax when the alarms started.

Ghost whipped his head around as a slew of curses left Soap's lips. "What'd the little lass do now?" he muttered, but Ghost didn't hear him, having already taken off towards the warehouse.

He was already planning how he was going to chew you out for not being careful enough when he saw trucks approaching in the distance. It wasn't you that set the alarms off, it was some rag-tag terrorist group on their way to rob the warehouse. And you were going to be right in the middle of it.

"L/N! What's your status?" he demanded over the radio. His men were already being pulled into the firefight. It wasn't until he was nearing the warehouse that he finally had eyes on you, your small form crouched behind a stack of crates.

"L/N, Move!" he shouted, providing you with enough cover to make a run for the evac. He watched as you took off, running as fast as your small legs could carry you. He was so distracted with you that the sting of the bullet in his shoulder came as a shock.

Seconds later he was knocked to the ground, by a kick to the back of his leg, and a strained grunt left his chest. His head snapped up as his attacker stood above him, prepared to finish him off with a bullet between his eyes.

But then he stopped, and Ghost's eyes narrowed at the sound of running feet slamming against the ground. He felt his heart sink watching you throw yourself at his attacker, knife in hand.

No. It wasn’t going to work. He was bigger than you, and you didn't have a clue what you were doing. You were going to die for him. Because of him. He'd never hated himself more.

He had to watch the man rip the knife from your hand and drive it into your knee, his anger boiling over as his attacker pushed you away as if you were as threatening as a sunflower stalk.

You fell to the ground in a sobbing heap, and that sound alone had Simon reaching for the man's sidearm despite the pain in his shoulder. There was a bullet in his throat before he even noticed that the Lieutenant was no longer lying flat on his back.

"L.T.? Where are you? Evac is here?" Soap's voice chimed over the radio, but Ghost ignored him as he hefted your small form into his arms.

"Shh shh, hold on f' me now. Done so good so far. Gotta finish the mission," he murmured as he squeezed you against his chest. "M' not leavin' you here," he promised, trudging towards the evac site.

"L.T.?" Soap tried once again, but Ghost didn't answer. It was too much to think, too much to hit the button on his radio as he tried to hold you in a manner that wouldn't make you cry out in pain.

"Almost there, love."

AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Next chapter will be in Reader's POV!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader

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ghostboneswrites2 · 27 days

Text

A Mess || Part 10

Yes, ladies and gents and non-binary readers alike, the long awaited final part to A Mess has arrived. I’ve had this written for months and honestly thought I posted it already, so forgive the wait. I’m just a 23 year old teenage girl.

ANYWAYS, the polls for the contents of this final part resulted in:

More smut

Post Terminus / Pre Alexandria setting

The relationship becoming officially established & public

ANNNDDD a sequel series which is in the works ❤️‍🔥

18+ MDNI || Warnings: smut (male receiving oral, fingering, mild grinding), TWD typical stuff

The days seemed to drag on the way they did after Shane died. You felt like an old paintbrush dragging across a desolate canvas, leaving a trail of splotchy grays and bloody smears, painting your surroundings to mimic the twisted feelings of turmoil inside you. The prison was gone and so many were lost. Beth was dead. So were Bob and Tyreese. At least Carol was back.

You struggled to find anything to be grateful for, anymore. Sure, you narrowly escaped the hungry bellies of the cannibals at Terminus, and sure you were still alive, but were you really living? Was dragging the worn boots Daryl had gifted you when life was more forgiving across cracked asphault while your stomach gnawed away at your insides really any kind of life? Sometimes you wondered what you pressed on for. Especially with Daryl so reserved and closed off like he was. The loss of Beth had done something to him that you couldn't fully relate to because you weren't with Beth after the prison, you escaped with Glenn and found yourself locked away in a dark train car by the time you finally reunited with Daryl.

He had formed a sort of connection with her, something pure and protective, something that was shattered right before his eyes with a single gunshot.

You wished he'd just talk to you. Or touch you. Or even look at you. Was he so miserable he lost all interest? Surely not. He loved you. He told you so, the day he wound up in that train car with you.

You shielded your eyes as a bright light filled the dark box that confined you. You were sure they were coming to finally kill you off or whatever it was they planned to do with you.

You had sustained an injury to your head in the struggle to round you all up, so you were admittedly out of it. It wasn't until you felt rough hands around your cheeks and heard the panic and relief in his voice that you really registered what was going on.

"(Y/N)." He breathed as he planted a rough kiss on your forehead then your lips. "I thought you were dead. I love ya, ya hear me? I fuckin' love you."

You may not have remembered much from your concussed state, and he may have never said it again, but that was a memory you held onto with every last bit of your strength. He loved you.

You knew he just needed some time, but you also knew you needed him. You were slipping away; losing hope. A simple touch could have made the difference of life or death for you at that point.

Then, it rained. It was welcome. Your dry cracked lips, burning throat, and aching organs were brought back to life as you caught the droplets on your tongue. When the thunder rumbled, Daryl urged you all to an old barn he had found off on his own. He did that often; going off on his own.

The night was loud and it was hard to find any rest. The wind slapped the weathered wooden walls and seemingly shook the ground. The thunder was loud and frequent, bright flashes infiltrating the cracks and openings as the lightning grew closer. You tossed and turned a lot, only to eventually sit yourself up and rub your eyes. You jumped when your eyes readjusted to the darkness to see a looming figure before you.

"Hey." He whispered. You blinked.

"Hey." You whispered back. He stepped over and sat down beside you.

"Y'alright?" He asked.

"Can't sleep." You shrugged, not looking at him.

"Mm." He nodded. "Other than that."

"Just... tired." Was all you managed. There wasn't enough time in a day -- or sleepless night -- to go through and examine your emotions enough to lay them all out flat for him. Plus, that was never really his strong suit. You two showed each other how you felt in place of saying it. You always had. Which was another reason it hurt you so bad for him to pull away. You knew if he was done with what you had, he'd never say it. He'd just let you figure it out on your own, and you'd never really know why.

"That ain't it." He pointed out. "But it's okay. I know I ain't been much for talkin' lately. You don't gotta be, either."

You were lost for words. Was this an attempt at letting you back in? At being close to you?

"Anyway, I, uh.." He cleared his throat and glanced around, scanning through the dim light of the dying fire to ensure he hadn't woken anyone. "I just miss ya, is all."

"Oh." You nodded. "Yeah. Me too."

"Look, I just needed to figure it out, ya know? Let myself feel it." He persisted. "After Beth... After everything, I just couldn't let myself. But now I did, and I need to say sorry."

"I just didn't know if..."

"Nah." He cut you off. "That wasn't on you. That was me. 'N' I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You placed a gentle hand on his knee. "I get it."

Some moments passed in silence as you both felt devoid of anything to say. He cleared his throat again.

"Can I stay with you?" He asked.

"Yeah. Of course." You half smiled, even though he probably couldn't see. You shuffled over to a bed of old hay where you had laid out a jacket.

He laid down, propping his arm under his head in place of a pillow, and your crawled down beside him, curling up into his side and taking a breath. He was ripe with a lack of access to hygiene, but then again, so were you, so you decided to enjoy the musk as a byproduct of his closeness.

The longer you lay awake, feeling the warmth of his body, the more it hit you just how bad you needed him in such trying times. You realized then, more than ever, how bad you were craving his touch, his scent, his voice, his taste.

You popped your head up and looked up at his face. It was shadowy and dark but you’d recognize his features in total darkness. He glanced down at you with a softness, wondering what you were about to say.

However, ‘saying’ wasn’t on your agenda. No, it was much more of a ‘doing’ that you had planned.

You stretched your neck out to kiss him on the jaw as his hand rested contently on the back of your head. He thought you were just being affectionate in the way that girlfriends did when they missed their man, and you were, but you had other things planned, too. As your lips planted little kisses along his jawline until they met his own, he relaxed into the semi-comfortable bed of hay. He figured whatever you were doing, was just your way of telling him you missed him. After all, you two always showed what you felt, and rarely said it.

When your lips met his you quietly climbed over top of him, straddling him as you depend the kiss. The more you touched him, the deeper you felt his absence since Grady.

You broke away for a breath and littered more sloppy kisses over his cheeks and neck, stopping somewhere in between to nibble at his earlobe. He groaned quietly under the weight of you and your affections, hoping you’d stop whatever you were doing soon, as the aching member in his jeans was already begging to be touched. Unfortunately, there was no end in sight to your erotic touches. As you shifted, your own wet heat glided over the bulge in his pants, and you realized you were succeeding in your mission.

You were downright needy for him, breathy whines escaping you as you grounded against him, rubbing your flat hands over his chest with hunger, catching his lips in yours between sucking and nibbling at the flesh of his neck. His hands gripped your thighs as you got hotter and hornier, quickly realizing he wasn’t getting out of this one.

When you pulled back again, flushed and sweaty already, you could barely see the glisten in his eyes as he stared back at you. Slowly, you leaned down to whisper in his ear; “Quiet, okay?”

He nodded once and you slowly slid down until your face was level with his waist. Slowly, silent as you could manage, you unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and wiggled them down his thighs. He let out a small breath when you rigged his boxers down, cold air hitting his bare flesh. With one last glance up at his face, you smirked and turned your attention to his tip, gently licking and planting wet kisses all around it.

A pleasant “agh” escaped him, prompting you to take it a step further. You wrapped your juicy lips around his tip and slowly lowered yourself, bobbing up and down with no sense of haste. He tried desperately to suppress any vocalizations that may have been at bay, fearful he’d wake someone, especially Carl or baby Jude.

It was painfully slow, the way you’d take him in further every so often, and when you finally met the base of him, he couldn’t suppress the groan. You quickly glanced around for any stirring bodies, and continued when you found none. Slow like a snail, gliding your lips and tongue up and down his length, hollowing out your cheeks to create a vacuum. You wanted him to understand what he was missing, what kind of bliss you could give him. You wanted him to feel your absence when he wasn’t around, just like you did his.

Soon enough he was throbbing in your mouth, his hips uncontrollably jerking. He was close. You debated whether or not to take it all the way or leave him begging for more. You opted to give him some relief, given the miserable circumstances of your lives.

You took all of him at once, his load spilling into the back of your throat and dripping down. You stayed like that for a moment, barely bobbing back and forth, allowing him to ride his high and come back down.

You wiped your mouth and grinned at him as you pulled away. With your help, he shimmied his pants back up and secured the button. You took your place beside him once again, snuggling up close, your head rested between his chest and shoulder.

He took a few minutes to recover before he used two fingers to guide your jaw up so he could place a gentle kiss on your swollen lips. He moved his kissed over your cheek and to your ear and whispered, “Quiet, okay?”

You bit your lip and smiled as he carefully slid his fingers in your jeans and traced one across your slit, starting at your entrance and ending at your clit. Deciding his big hand wouldn’t have enough room in your buttoned jeans, he went ahead and unbuttoned them and slid the zipper down to allow more movement.

With that out of the way, he could work delicately on your sweet spots, gently dragging his finger up and down your slit to get it nice and wet. All the while, you were biting down on your lip trying to keep quiet. He noticed the way your hips with try to follow his finger when it moved up. You wanted him inside you, so he’d give it to you.

He slid his middle finger inside you and pumped it in and out a few times, laying a free hand over your mouth to make sure your sounds could be muffled. Your eyes fluttered at the sensation of his calloused skin massaging your insides, effortlessly finding that one spot that made you weak. His thumb found your clit as he fingered you, rubbing little circles, eliciting a small moan. He paused and gave you a look, reminding you where you were. You nodded, letting him know you understood, and he continued. A trembling breath released from your nose, his other hand still over your mouth, as he slipped a second finger inside and continued massaging your g-spot and rubbing your clit.

As he settled into a rhythm, your body responded. You rocked your hips with his movements, communicating to him to keep up what he was doing. He understood. He always understood you.

In no time at all, all that pent up frustration and aches for his touch finally heated to a boiling point, and you spilled over. Your body and voice trembled as you shook and rode your orgasm on his fingers. When your body calmed and you flinched at his touch, he pulled his hand away and buttoned you back up. He relaxed again, triumphant this time, and you curled up close to him and drifted to sleep in an instant.

Daryl was the first to wake the next morning, but given your position sprawled across him, you were quick to get up with him. The two of you went outside to assess the storm damage. Trees had fallen in the night, narrowly missing the barn itself. You made small talk as you wandered the area, occasionally taking out a stray walker. When you went back inside, hand in hand, the rest of the group was awake and shuffling around. Maggie was the first to notice the way Daryl held your hand so casually, then Sasha, then Glenn and the rest. Nobody knew what to say, but they all stared and exchanged glances amongst each other. Daryl shifted a tad, uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but he braved his anxieties and stood firmly beside you. He cleared his throat.

“Damage is pretty bad out there. ‘S a miracle then damn trees didn’t fall right on us.” He said.

“Huh.” Rick hummed, nodding, still perplexed. He nodded down at your hand entwined with Daryl’s and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh.” Daryl shrugged, holding your hands up and looking down at them. He realized the two do you never really established a relationship, especially not completely openly. He figured the way he told you he loved you back in that train car at Terminus would have been a dead giveaway, but tensions were high back then. Maybe it went unnoticed. He shrugged again. “Yeah.”

You stifled a laugh and shook your head. Your family all smirked and smiled sweetly, but didn’t press further, save for Carol, who spoke in a ‘told you so’ kind of tone. “It’s about time you two quit playing footsies and took things to the next level.”

Masterlist // Taglist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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lavender-romancer · 6 months

Text

Burden

Part One Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Five years after leaving Hogwarts, after ruining everything, he was drunk on your doorstep trying to fix what he had broken.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

He was a burden to everyone in his life, he would be alone forever watching everyone he knew fall in love and live their life. Sebastian was not a good person, he was selfish and longed for deep connections he would never be able to sustain. Ruining the connection he had to you had turned him into someone he hated. He had no real connections anymore, his friendship with Ominis had continued fading regardless of them both working in the Ministry. All Sebastian wanted to do was apologise to everyone he had ever known, to try to minimise the impact of his existence.

The only person to blame for all of his problems was himself, it filled him with such a deep self hatred that he didn't know where to channel. It usually gave him a ridiculous amount of motivation in his work as an Auror because he knew nothing in his formative years would be remembered as heroic by anyone. A selfish, stupid, scared little boy was all he was for so long that escaping it seemed impossible. Could he ever be a good person with no hope for personal gain? Had he ever really done something kind or thoughtful for someone? No one would ever bear witness to the person he could have been because he didn't have the energy to commit to it.

You had seemed to love the scared, selfish boy he was. But Sebastian didn't realise until you were gone because he never thought someone could love this face he was so afraid of. Such kindness and an unnerving support he had never felt before, not knowing how to appreciate it he squandered it all. Losing you killed his heart, or, what was left after Anne forbade him from seeing her. He was so fucking sorry that he had ever met you, for your sake. If he had never used you, under the guise of asking for help, none of it would have happened. He wouldn't have upset you, he wouldn't have made you cry.

From the first moment he met you, every thought contained you, every book echoed your wizarding skill, every case he had as an auror only made him think of how you would react in the situation. But all Sebastian would have done- if they did end up together- was hold you back from your true potential because he could never escape his own selfishness. He knew he would kill for you, but you didn't want that. You didn't need dark magic or tricks to show your devotion to someone like he did. You were just… good, a good person who deserved the world that Sebastian should have given you. He would regret that till he day he died, always looking at you with so much love and care that he never knew how to express. The love was replaced by petty comments, calling you ignorant and acting out when he should have just stopped for a moment. Realised that maybe you could love him too, if he'd stopped for a moment he would know to stand by your side.

His head was a mess of firewhiskey and opium, he lay on the floor of his dark flat silently crying at the life he dreamt of with you. A better man could sweep you off your feet, show you love in ways he didn't understand. Held you close to his chest and tell you just how much he loved you without breaking down. You needed someone stronger than him, someone who wasn't tempted by substances and women. Someone who didn't self-sabotage every relationship and friendship he had ever had. You deserved more than he could ever give you. If you ever saw how fucked up he really was, even now, he didn't know how you'd react. Showing himself bare to the world and to you was too terrifying to consider. He was deep in this pit of despair that he had created, so consumed by his own psyche that letting anyone in was too intimidating to consider.

He didn't know when he had got up and began walking on the pavement towards the flat he knew you used to live in. He didn't know what he was doing, how disheveled he looked or that his tears had made his collar wet. Did you even live there anymore? Did you have a husband or any children? He began to overthink everything he had done in his life up until now. Did you know how much of a mess he was? Did Ominis keep you updated on how alone he really was? Or had you just forgotten about him? Regardless of what his head thought, his legs were taking him to you.

Had he locked his door? He didn't remember, but at this point nothing else seemed to matter like seeing your face and telling you everything. If he had realised how pathetic the whole thing was- as he did the following morning- maybe he wouldn't have gone. But he wasn't sure. In all the years since he had been close with you, he had never had the courage to see you again until the substances mixed in his system gave him a false sense of security.

Imagining you as the same girl who was his first kiss, his only love, the person he had disappointed the most. What if you never knew how he felt? Sebastian didn't think he could have less of a will to live at this moment but he knew that not seeing you might have been the final nail in his coffin. You would make everything alright. In his head, that was the only thing making sense to him. If he saw you, everything would sort itself out.

His dreams and fantasies of holding you, kissing you, loving you had to be real. At least in that moment that was what he thought. Sebastian would think about you for hours, dreaming up scenarios that would never happen. But that didn't matter right now, he was at your doorstep.

He was by no means sober, but the cold air had sobered him up to a point of considering this was a terrible idea. That he would do something irreversible, you would see him break down and not know what to do. As he knocked on your door at almost 12 am, some part of his soul hoped you didn't live here anymore.

But when you opened the door and found a man you never believed you would see again, you didn't know what to do. What to say, how to react, whether you should shut the door or hold him in your arms. What was he doing here? Why now? After all the years of hurt and confusion you wanted the concrete slabs on your doorstep to swallow you whole.

“Y/n, I…” he began, but as he looked into your eyes, so confused and perhaps scared, all he could do was let tears fall from his own. How could he do this to you? How could he ruin your night? “I-I’ll leave now and you won't have to, won't have to see me again.” He stuttered over his words and nearly fell down the steps.

“Sebastian,” you said almost too softly for him to hear and he turned his head, “Come inside.”

Of course you invited him inside, you were too lovely, too caring to realise what a fucking mess he was. The sobering effect was minimised when he stepped into the warmth of your flat, he was ushered into the drawing room where the two of you sat on adjacent chairs in silence. How could this conversation even begin? Neither of you knew what to say to one another, least of all Sebastian who was slowly realising that he shouldn't be there.

“Ominis told me you're a successful Auror now.” You started, convinced that the only way to get you through this conversation was hollow pleasantries.

“Yes,” Sebastian cleared his throat, acutely aware of how wet his cheeks were. “Do you work for the ministry as well?”

“Yes, thank you for asking. In the law department.” You replied curtly, your hands slightly trembling in your lap.

“I-” he paused, considering his words to cut through the anxiousness in his head “I'm sorry, for interrupting your night.”

“It is always nice to see an old friend,” that drove a stake into Sebastian's heart. “Under different circumstances it would perhaps be better.” Your smile was polite.

“I do not want to overstay my welcome, I'm sure you have other things to attend to.” Sebastian could feel tears threatening to fall. He sniffed to try and rid his body of the ache he felt all over.

“Nonsense, stay here for a moment.” You stood up and left the room, Sebastian half expected you to return with your wand and demand he leave but you didn't.

“I knew I would see you again one day,” she returned a few moments later with a small box and a glass of water. “This is some of the memories from hogwarts and I realised I still had some of your things with them.” Sebastian gratefully took the glass of water and drank it quickly. You sat down in the same chair as before and brought out a Slytherin scarf along with a small pin and tried to hand it to him.

“You- do you not want them anymore?” He asked quietly, having no idea what was going on and feeling an urge to run away. His fantasy of your life together was slowly crumbling.

“I thought.” You began to say but stopped, placing the items neatly in your lap as you ran your hand over the fabric that was still soft.

“They were gifts, I don't want you to think you have to give them back.” Sebastian replied, staring at the floor because he knew if he met your gaze he would start crying uncontrollably.

“Do you still have my scarf?” You asked timidly.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to part with it.” Sebastian ran a hand over his extremely loose tie and began to tighten it with great difficulty.

“Let me do it, you always struggled with not looking scruffy at school.” You leant over and began unraveling his tie, tying it up in a much more presentable fashion. Your movements were slow and careful, scared you would spook him like some kind of wild beast.

“Thank you.” Sebastian managed to weakly say, still unable to look you in the eye and choosing to flick his eyes back and forth from his own hands to the scarf you still had on your lap.

After you were done you placed your hands back on the scarf, methodically touching it with the care you had always shown it. There was silence for a while, but you were unable to decipher in your mind whether it was awkward or comfortable. Who was this man in front of you who made your hands shake? Sebastian had been out of your life for so many years that you didn't know how to think around him. Whether you should tell him how often you thought of him, how much you wanted to see his smile and play with his hair as you watched the stars in the Astronomy Tower all over again. His name felt so comfortable coming from her mouth, her lips craved to tell him everything but the ache all over her body told her that it might not be wise. You still had the scarf, your connection to a Sebastian who seemed long gone. Replaced by a man who couldn't reach your gaze or tell you why he was there without letting tears fall.

“I will take my leave now. Leave you alone.” Sebastian said quietly as he stood up.

“Sebastian, please I-” you started.

“I'll only ruin things.” He said even quieter before walking away quicker than you could react. You would never know, you will never know, you should never know how he felt.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

next- blurry eyes

#sebastian sallow angst #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #Sebastian Sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy characters #hogwarts legacy #harry potter world #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow

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katz-chow · 3 months

Note

OK, now me here :) since König is the only angst you'd do, can I have more??? Got no prompts in mind cuz it still 8am, but anything will do!

Oh, and have a wonderful day!🥰

a/n: i cried so hard after writing this. character death, daddy issues, dead mom.

deadbeat dad!konig tries to be better but his pride gets the best of him. he wants to talk about the nightmares that plague his sleep, which then causes him to take the night shift. and from there it's a slippery slope of drinking to get away from the memories and staying up, boring his mind with daytime tv.

he wants to tell you about the way he hears the beeping machines getting quicker and quicker, waking him from his sleep on the couch next to your mom in the hospital. the way he only jolts awake when the beeping turns into a sustained note; a fermata of death.

by the time he did, nurses and techs and doctors had crowded the room, escorting him out while a nurse pounds on your mother's chest. then they tell him you're still alive, but his mind's too foggy with panic- something that hasn't happened in years.

konig doesn't have time to think, he just signs papers and agrees with whatever they say: c-sectioning you out.

you were a tiny thing, not anywhere near full term. but he wasn't there to cut your umbilical cord; he was busy with death paperwork of your mother.

all of this, you learnt from your aunt, who took you home. and then proceed to take you from his house whenever he couldn't take it anymore and had to drink to forget.

he wanted help, he needed help. couldn't even bring himself to tell a total stranger nonetheless you.

you looked beautiful, a carbon copy of your mother minus the height-that you got from him.

the two of you don't have many memories together, nonetheless good memories. but whenever things get unbearable and you both are reasonably sober, you both unknowingly go back to two good memories.

of the time he drove you home from school. when he promised himself and you that he would quit and get better, and he was for two weeks. he laid small, little you down and read 'the kissing hand' to you. he could barely make it through without tears filling up and your grubby hands found their way to his, kissing his.

you were too young to know. "mmmwah! now whenever you're at work, i'll be at work with you too!"

konig hasn't been sober in the last 3 months after your passing. but he still presses his palm to his cheek every morning whenever his body succumbs to slumber.

he keeps the drawing you did of the two of you as raccoons in his wallet.

master list | letter box | main directory

drop by the letter box...

part 1

#katzwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #fanfic #konig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #daddy issues

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comradeboyhalo · 7 months

Text

i think etoiles fundamentally misunderstands bbh in pvp bc he isn't a warrior!! he is a slippery snake!!! he doesn't fight skeppy in bedwars, instead he stands at his base with his healpool and throws fireballs until skeppy falls off the map. he did a hostage challenge where his role wasn't even designed to be winnable, but he just exploited the system and annoyed his captors so much they didn't even want him anymore. every manhunt he's won has been through traps or last-minute sneaky plays. his true strength on the qsmp and dsmp always came from hidden bases and gear grinding: none of it from raw pvp power. and when he does outright pvp, his role is focused in tanking damage and playing support for the better fighter. it's about outlasting your opponent. it's about survival. it's about being able to run away.

and this type of playstyle makes his character so interesting to analyze, because q!bad is tunnel-visioning hard into bloodlust. dapper's video has sent him in a messy killing streak, and it's one that just isn't sustainable. his bark is stronger than his bite. he will keep snapping his jaws at any prey he can fit into his mouth, until he tries to swallow down more than he can chew--and suddenly he won't be able to run away anymore. q!bad was born into this world from destruction, and he will continue destroy and run and survive until he finally destroys himself too.

anyways. etoiles is gonna kick his ass someday.

#qsmp

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edelfan · 6 months

Text

“I hate you! I don't ever wanna see your face again!”

Over 1 year later…

“Pete, I know you just got back, but that's no excuse to leave your mess all over the house.”

Having just come home from work, Ice had to bypass Mav’s jacket and horrendous cowboy boots in the middle of the hallway, an empty beer bottle and crumbs of chips leading him to the other man lounging on the couch.

“But you still love me.”

Mav was tiredly smiling up at him, making Ice shake his head fondly.

“Sometimes I wonder why. Even Bradley wasn't-”

Groaning frustratingly, Ice pulled his ringing cell phone out of his pocket, frowning at the unknown number on the display.

“Ignore it…”

“You know I can't… Kazansky, hello?”

“Hello, my name is Gracie Bushman. I’m a nurse at St. Joseph’s Rehabilitation and Care Center in Maryland. Am I speaking to Rear Admiral Thomas Kazansky?”

“Speaking. How may I help you, ma’am?”

“I was referred to you because I’m looking for someone called ‘Mav’ or ‘Maverick’? Also someone possibly nicknamed ‘Ice’?”

“Maverick, Commander Pete Mitchell, is my… wingman from my active days as a naval aviator. That's his callsign, mine was Iceman. But why-?”

“I think you need to come to Maryland as soon as possible.”

~~~

“Thank you for coming so fast.”

Mav and Ice had taken the first flight to Washington, their minds still reeling with what they had heard, now following Gracie through the hallways of the rehab center.

“No problem at all. So, this patient…”

“He had been admitted to hospital as a John Doe after being involved in a car accident. There had been nothing on him to identify him. He had suffered severed head injuries, leaving him in a coma and a vegetative state for several weeks before he was transferred here. He’s been with us for over three months when he slowly started showing signs of awareness. A few weeks ago he started to mumble words, but they didn't make any sense to us at first. But he seemed persistent, so I started researching…”

“And that's how you found us.”

Pete’s voice was barely audible when they finally stopped in front of a door.

“Yeah. Now, before going in, you need to know that he sustained severe scarring in the accident as well. It might take him a while to focus on you. Whatever happens, try not to stress him too much.”

Mav and Ice could only nod as Gracie knocked on the door.

“Hey, honey, you got some visitors today…”

The young man in the bed didn't look up at first. He was pale and thin, red scars all over his face, but there was no doubt…

“Oh my God, Bradley…”

They couldn't hold themselves back anymore. Soon enough Mav was almost crawling onto the bed, wrapping Bradley into his arms as Ice grabbed his boney hands and didn't let go.

“Oh baby goose…”

Very slowly Bradley’s eyes started to take them in and suddenly a loud sob ripped through him. Floods of tears were running down his cheeks.

“Da… Pop…”

There was no single dry eye in the room at this moment.

“Yeah, baby, we’re here… we’re here.”

#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #icemav #iceman x maverick #top gun maverick #top gun angst #top gun drabble

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dixons-sunshine · 11 days

Note

we BEG for some vamp!daryl x reader headcanons😩

Vampire!Daryl Dixon x Reader Headcannons

Word count: 881.

A/n: Ask and you shall receive! I'm so happy that y'all like my version of vamp!Daryl. It really means the world to me. Also, I'm working on a Michonne fic that I wanted to have up tonight but it's taking me a little longer than I had anticipated, so it should be up tomorrow instead. Anyway, I hope you like this!

★ Daryl kept his vampire side a secret from everyone at the quarry camp.

★ He fed on his hunts and never around people.

★ He'd eat the beans that were offered to him by you, but realistically he knew that, even though he could consume human food, they held absolutely no nutrition for him and he'd starve if he didn't feed. So he'd eat the food offered to him and just get the blood he needed when he went on hunts.

★ You were the first person to find out that he was a vampire, and it was completely on accident.

★ You had stumbled across him feeding on a rabbit when you went looking for mushrooms, and had freaked out at the sight.

★ However, you didn't freak out because he was feeding on a rabbit. You freaked out because, from your perspective, he looked like a walker, hunched over the rabbit.

★ It took a lot of convincing and reassurance for you to calm down and not tell the others what you had seen.

★ You kept his secret pretty well, considering the fact that you seemed to be afraid of him.

★ However, you started getting more comfortable around him when you sustained an injury while looking for Sophia that was extremely bloody and he didn't even flinch. He simply picked you up and took you to Hershel to get you fixed up.

★ When you later asked him about it, he told you that he had years of practice behind him. That's how he was able to resist the smell of your blood.

★ The two of you formed an unlikely friendship after that. It shocked everyone, including Daryl himself, but for some unknown reason, he wasn't complaining.

★ You were the one who hunted and brought back some animal blood for him when he was injured while looking for Sophia.

★ You were also the one who convinced Hershel to let Daryl back to his tent earlier. You knew with Daryl's advanced healing, and with the blood you got for him, he'd be healed in no time. That would be extremely hard to explain.

★ Daryl's identity got revealed when the farm fell and he used some of his inhuman speed to save a couple of people.

★ It took a while to get used to him after that, but when people saw he didn't pose any immediate threats, people weren't too worried about him anymore.

★ Yours and Daryl's relationship only grew as the days progressed.

★ You went hunting with Daryl and asked him questions about his species, and without him really knowing, you made a mental list as to how to care for him.

★ One thing you were surprised to note was his complete self-control when it came to human blood. You knew he had told you that he had years of practice, but it was still impressive to see his self-restraint.

★ Daryl once had to kill a person with his fangs to save you. That's the only time you saw him lose control and feed on a human.

★ He thought that you'd be terrified of him after that, but you weren't. Quite the contrary, you found what he did to keep you safe kind of hot, but you would never outrightly admit that to him.

★ As the days went on, Daryl's feelings for you only grew stronger.

★ Unbeknownst to him, your feelings for him grew stronger as well.

★ When the prison fell, Daryl felt as if he just wanted to die completely.

★ And when he found you again after Terminus with Carol and Tyreese, he felt like he was alive again—truly alive for the first time in decades.

★ The weeks before you found Alexandria was a whirlwind of emotions.

★ But when you got to Alexandria, things started to look up. So much so that you felt courageous enough to just act on an impulse and grab him by his jacket and pull him into a kiss.

★ That first night in Alexandria, the two of you spent a passionate night together.

★ The two of you kept your relationship a secret from everyone. Daryl's identity wasn't a secret from the people in Alexandria because he couldn't be bothered to hide that part of him, so the two of you didn't need any judgement from them because a human and a vampire were in a relationship.

★ The first time Daryl ever agreed to drink from you was after your first encounter with Dwight and Sherry.

★ He was weak and needed the strength to keep the two of you safe since the two people took your weapons, so he needed blood—your blood.

★ He wouldn't admit it, too ashamed to do so, but your blood was like a tasteful, addictive drug to him.

★ One taste was enough to make him want more, but he would never do so without your consent.

★ Whether he ever drinks more of your blood, I'll let you all decide.1

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bigboysfalldeep · 1 year

Text

Soccer Boy - Mind Slave

I moved to a new town, got a new job, and started a new life. I wanted to start over, but all of that changed when I found my new roommate. Mike, 22, is chronically obsessed with the gym, playing soccer, and, what matters most, broke. He was looking for a roommate to basically pay rent while he spent all of his money on his body and his athletic career.

I simply couldn't resist. I saved so much money throughout my life that I could sustain that flat, pretending to be an office worker, when in fact, I use my time to take over men's minds and have my way with their bodies and their bank accounts. I tried to hide my desire in front of him, but somehow he saw right through me. It must have been the way I was looking at him working out, or maybe he realized I was going through his stuff.

One day, he confronted me, got angry, and called me a faggot. Still, he didn't kick me out; instead, he even teased me more and more, but got angry with me when he caught me looking. I needed him to obey me soon. One day, he joined me in the living room, wearing his soccer kit, while I was watching TV. "What are you doing here, fag?" He grunted, snatched the remote from my hands, and made space for him on the sofa. "Watching TV." I mumbled when he shoved me aside with his body, so I was now on the edge of the sofa. "Not anymore." He smiled for a second before giving me an annoyed look. I believed that if it were for my money, he would have gotten rid of me ages ago. But he needed me, and I wanted him.

I took my phone, unlocked it, and went to a specific app. A wonderful little thing I came across a year ago. It lets me remotely control any phone with this installed, sending signals, images, and electronic impulses through the device. While he was showering, I prepared his phone, just waiting for the perfect moment. I wanted him so bad, seeing him in his kit, his thick dick bulging already, and his muscles testing the limits of the shirt fabric.

With one little click, I sent a push-up note to his phone, a small message disguised as an Instagram notification. Mike took his phone and, with a smirk, opened it. Right when he clicked on the note, his screen turned dark before a spiral appeared all over the screen, a dozen colors spinning and turning, sucking him deeper and deeper. He instantly froze, his body tensed, and his eyes grew wide. "What the fuuuck?" he said, stretching the last word.

I could tell he was hooked right away. I have seen that countless times before. Those men, strong and buff, are mostly weak-minded. Easy to manipulate. "A pretty little thing, isn't it?" I said, moving a little closer to him. Mike moved his head to look at me, but something made him look into the beautiful spiral. "It...is." He nodded slowly, still focused on his phone. With one press of a button, I activated the second function of the app, letting it send low electric impulses through his hands and, later, his entire body. Mikes body twitched shortly, once, twice, the phone firm in his hand. I love seeing men like that, their bodies getting encouraged to tense and to grow bigger, and so did his. At first, his biceps grew larger, followed by his pecs, chest, and abs. They're now extremely visible through the shirt, and his nipples pierce through it as well. My eyes wandered down his beautiful body to his pulsating dick. It moved from left to right, up and down, dancing, wanting me to grab it. But I needed to be careful. I place a hand on his shoulder and lean in.

"Mike, can you hear me?" I said, and he nodded. "Yes." He started drooling slightly. "Good boy. Then listen to me. I want you to go even deeper into your mind. Let go of your physical form; let your body obey me; follow my every order." I said, intensifying the grip on his shoulder. For a second, it seemed like it wasn't working, until he leaned his head back, moaning quietly. Mike closed his eyes before his head sank down to his chest. "Heads up, boy," I said, and slowly, he did. I watched him sit there, drooling, his cock still twitching and his well-formed body pressing against his clothes.

I couldn't help but start to touch him. I placed my hands on his chest, stroking him harder and harder while he looked into the void, his normally bright eyes now dull and vacant. "So good." I chuckled nervously. Better than I imagined. "Lean Back." I ordered. "Yes." Mike said it like a robot and rested his back against the sofa while I kept touching his wonderful chest. I could tell he enjoyed it, partly by the derpy smile spreading across his lips and his cock tenting inside his shorts. "I want more." I ran a hand through my hair, thinking about what to do next. "Take your socks off." I grabbed his hard cock before he reached for his feet as I got up.

"Very good." I smiled and kneeled down. As Mike sat there, I fondled his big thighs, tracing the outlines of his tattoo with a finger before grabbing his cock some more. It was already leaking quite a bit—a wet spot spreading through the thin fabric of his shorts.

"You like it, faggot?" I said angrily, channeling his anger towards me. "Yes." He drooled harder while I began to move my hand up and down his massive cock. Mike started to moan loudly, again and again. "Fuck." I removed myself,got up, p and motioned for him to do the same.

"Take that shirt off." I pulled at it and watched him slowly undress himself.

"Very good boy, indeed." I said, and I took a step closer, placing both of my hands at his thick pecs again, before playing with his cute nipples. "Freeze." Mike's body tensed again, all of his muscles reacting to my every touch. I began to touch him again, firmly, with my hands encompassing all of his upper body.

My hands ran up and down his pecs, abs, and even up to his neck. I felt his shoulders, his firm biceps, and back to his beautiful chest, but when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he was slowly gaining consciousness again. "No." My whole body was shaking, and I panicked for a second before I saw his phone still lying on the sofa.

I took it and handed it to him. "Mike, look at the pretty spiral again." He nodded and looked at his phone again.

I needed to do something. And there was one thing I could do. I picked up my phone, opened the app, and clicked on the electrical impulse button. This time, I increased the frequency and power of the pulse. Mike's whole body got stiff and rigid while shaking slightly. "Can you hear me, Mike?" I said nervously, and after a few seconds, he opened his mouth again.

"Yes." I sighed. "Good. Now. You will go even deeper. Let go of your struggles. Let me tell you what to do. Let your body be my slave." I said, and with that last word, he closed his eyes, and the phone dropped to the floor. I walked around him and hugged him from behind, letting my hard cock grind on his tight hole through his shorts. I needed to restrain myself, or otherwise I would have shot a load right then and there.

"Take them off." I moaned loudly, pressing my crotch against his arse. Slowly, Mike moved his hands and managed to pull them down without falling over.

Now just in his boxers, he stood there, drooling and his cock leaking more and more, staining his tight white boxers with precious cum. From behind, I grabbed his erect cock and played with it, jerking him off while he let out moan after moan. I felt myself leaking now too. "Kneel." I whispered into his ear, and without another word, he did. Enjoying the sight of my cocky roomate on his knees, I walked around, positioning my throbbing cock right in front of his soft face.

"Pull my pants down." I smirked and watched him grab my waist and slip his fingers inside my pants. Tenderly, he pulled it down, causing my cock to bounce, making me chuckle. I never imagined him sucking me off, and right now, I could live that fantasy. "Worship my cock, boy." I touched myself before he leaned in, kissing it, licking it, and touching it passionately. Mike steadied himself against my thighs and went all in.

I shot a load prematurely, the thick liquid pressing through the thin fabric. Instantly, Mike sucked it off before fondling with my dick again. "Good boy, now, suck." I grabbed my cock and felt him pull my boxers down. At first, my wet dick slapped him roughly, flushing his face with color, but he didn't mind. In a second, he took all of me inside his mouth and started to suck me off. And it felt good—so good, like fucking the perfect mouth—and even though he claimed to be straight, he must have done this before. Mike knew how to push my buttons, how to move his mouth, and how not to gag with my cock inside him.

It didn't take long for me to reach my limits, but before he could finish me, I pulled out. Just in time for me to cum all over his face. It spread all over his face; he flinched and groaned. The second one erupted towards his bare chest, covering him in my sticky cum. Again and again, I shot another load, covering him fully. "Fuuuuck." I moaned, trying my best to control myself. As soon as I went dry, I stroked Mike's face, neck, and chest, rubbing my cum into his skin. "Like that." I pet him playfully while he just nods.

His eyes rolled back for a second before a derpy smile spread across his face again. "Get up." I said, and he did. I could tell he enjoyed it too, given the massive wet patch all around his still-throbbing dick. "Are you done?" I touched his neck and his dick. To my surprise, he shook his head. "Follow me then." I led him into my bedroom and sat down on the bed, motioning for him to join me. Turning him around, I hugged him from behind again, one arm on his chest, the other around his neck.

"Now for the finale." I breathed down his neck, choking him slightly. Mike didn't fight back; he took a deep breath, awaiting my commands.

"Every time I touch you, you will get hard. Your body will crave my touch; it will crave a release from my hand and my will." I said, stroking him lovingly while choking him. I managed to pull his wet cock out of his briefs, causing him to groan breathlessly. "You can touch yourself and play with yourself; nothing will make you cum. And once the pressure gets too high, you will get back into this state and follow my orders." I said, tightening my grip. Instinctively, he grabbed his own cock with both of his hands, trying to make him cum, but nothing happened. "Do you understand me?" I said, letting him breathe again. "Yes." Mike moaned, and his body went stiff again. "Once you release yourself now, this will be your reality. You will be mine; you will be a slave." I stroked him while he took another breath. "I will be yours." He said that, and with that, I wrapped my hand around his cock. With one move, the tip erupted, and I aimed for his chest again. This time, it was his own cum. I loved seeing his body twitch, his eyes so blank, and his cock so hard.

After a minute of shooting massive loads, he went dry as well, and I released Mike. "Get up and get clean, pig." I pushed him, and he stood up. "Once you're done, you will get out of that state again and won't remember a thing about today. The condition is what stays." He looked at me with his eyes shining slightly, nodded, and left.

I fell down onto the bed, touching myself again. This is going to be fun.

#tf story #male hypno #male hypnosis #gay hypno #hypno story #soccer hypno #soccer gear

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sakumz · 8 months

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____________________________________________

「 yanagi x fem reader 」

a/n : I wanna rant lol

____________________________________________

" please be the romeo, yanagi. shu sustained an injury the other day so he's the narrator with me. we need you! " ishikawa clasps his hands together as yanagi smiles and agrees.

you, juliet is feeling nervous as the clock ticks. any minute now and it's showtime! where's your romeo? is he ready? all this thoughts running in your head that you fail to notice yanagi standing behind you. you let out an internal scream when you saw him, standing behind you. he just wants to wish you goodluck.

" h-have you memorised your parts, yanagin? " you ask but before he could reply, you heard the narrators, shu and ishikawa call out your name. that's your que to stand on stage and act your role.

" oh... why do our families fight with such hatred? I'm sure that if given the chance, they'd join hands and work together just like we have. if they could just understand half of how I feel about you, romeo... I'm sure- "

" AH-CHOO! "

" what was that noise? " ishikawa whispers to shu as the mics picks it up, making the audience laugh.

" what's this, a horror show? " someone from the seats say.

" that was pretty loud, " another say.

" man! was you, miyamura?! " shu shouts, making him peek from the curtains to shake his head, no.

" how embarrassing, " you whisper.

" crap, I forgot my lines. hey.. um what's next? " hearing you said that, made the audience burst into laughters.

" guess it wasn't horror but comedy? " someone say.

" hey juliet, that was an important line! " yanagi finally, steps onto stage.

" I can't help it, you sneezed and everything disappeared from my head! " you scolded him.

hearing your words, the audience laughed a little too hard for comfort.

" hey! they like it, next scene you two! " shu encourages.

onto the next scene, you're standing on what's supposed to be the balcony. yanagi standing somewhere below and next to him is the servant, miyamura dressed in a wig and maiden clothes.

" the capulets want your life, " miyamura says.

" no matter how dangerous it is, I need to go to her, " yanagi replies. " she's waiting at that balcony! "

" don't stop romeo, but this is when this servant shows her determination! " ishikawa announced.

" the truth is, she's in love with romeo! when she thinks this is their farewell, she gets ready to tell him how she feels, " shu follows.

" I don't remember this, being in the script? " miyamura whispers as yanagi sighs.

" well, just say whatever comes to your mind. I'm sure hori-san will deal with the two later, " yanagi comforts miyamura with a pat to his shoulder.

" um... romeo-sama, I've always loved you... crap, hori-san! I love you most! I cant do this anymore, " he runs away from the stage.

the audience burst into laughter once more. suddenly, a random hooded lady appeared on stage.

" oh a mysterious woman appears! " shu says.

" just who is she? " ishikawa respond.

" um, I am Josephine! romeo's true love! " remi says as she pulls down her hood. the crowd gasps and whispers, was romeo a player?

" this... you can't be my lover, you're my sister! " yanagi quickly thinks of a line.

" that doesn't matter if we're in love, " she replies.

" our family will be in bloodbath if they knew. besides, I'm sure the president loves you more than I do! go back to him. " yanagi fake cries, making the audience sympathise with him.

" he loves juliet! " the crowd cheers.

" I- you're right, onii-sama. " she runs off stage.

" you think, I'll let you have juliet that easy? I'm her older brother, Friedrich! " hori appears and charged him with her sword. he quickly ducks and run forward towards you.

" when I asked about you, you're a despicable man who cheats and make women cry, " hori says.

" you misunderstood the situation and exaggerated it! " yanagi replies.

" you want my juliet? fight me! " she charges at him as he runs around the stage.

" m-miyamura! take her, please! "

" even he can't save you! "

yanagi finally runs down the stage as she runs after him. yoshikawa and hori's father was next to them when yanagi ran up the audience.

" please catch her! " he begs as yoshikawa grabs her by the arm and her father takes the other arm.

" kyouko, why do you have to bully poor romeo? " kyousuke says out loud, making the audience around him laugh as hori freezes.

" now that they've finally caught juliets brother, what's next to come? " shu says.

" i-im coming, juliet! " yanagi shouts as he bolts towards you, climb the ladder to grab your hands at the balcony.

" o romeo, romeo! wherefore art thou, romeo? deny thy father and refuse thy name ; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a capulet. " you read your lines.

" then I'll take you. in exchange, please call me your lover. if you do, I will no longer be romeo. my beloved juliet. " he says.

" okay... I love you, romeo. " you finish as you two hold hands and the crowd cheers.

the casts bow and thank the watchers as everyone slowly leave the place, you and yanagi walked side by side off stage. fellow classmates were congratulating you two for the heart felt work.

" ahem, juliet could you come with me? " yanagi says as he offers his hand out. you two haven't changed out of your outfits.

you take his hand as he leads you away from the stage area, he walks you to the quiet council room as you two enters he closes the door and take a seat on one of the chairs. you take a seat across from him.

" well? " you question as he swallow sharply.

" y/n l/n... would you take my hand and be the juliet to my romeo? " he asks, looking at your face as you blush slightly from his words.

" oh romeo... are you asking me to be your lover? if so then yes I'll be your juilet. " you smile as he leans in to kiss your cheek, making you both blush.

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ inspired by nisekoi lol

#sakumz.pdf #yanagi akane x reader #akane yanagi x reader #horimiya x reader #yanagi x reader

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k-n0-x · 12 days

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Back for seconds~- Rosie x fem reader One Shot

A/N: Hi Hi no I did not just disappear from tumblr for like 3 weeks no what do you mean? Anyway, here’s a Rosie x reader because we need more of those as a community. Come on Hazbin Tumblr, we can do it! art: @bat-boness on tumblr ^^

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ೃ⁀➷🤍♡🤍☁️ೃ⁀➷·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

"Rrrossiee, I loovee you sooo soo mucch" You slur your words as you head into the restaurant's bathroom, hand in hand with your partner. You were originally supposed to leave the facility after dessert, but your cannibalistic bae had other ideas in mind, especially as she saw you in this state of intoxication.

She’s mean that way.

She gently drags you into the first stall, and pushes you up against the wall.

"Stay quiet for me, my sweet?" Rosie giggles, and gentle pecks your neck.

"Goodness knows what will happen if anyone saw an overlord in such a state of disarray, hm?"

"I don't care, as long as I have my Rosie with me," You give her a sloppy kiss, which she returns, pleased. She then attends to biting and sucking on your neck, guiding her hands in between your chest under your shirt, with your drunken ass whimpering at the stimulation.

"I swear, you are going to be the death of me," you mutter under your breath. The smug Overlord taps spreads your legs with her porcelain and soft hands. You shiver as your legs split, inviting her to do God knows what. “But it doesn’t matter, because I looovee youuu~”

Rosie hums, while you ramble on, tending to your went cunt dripping beads of precum.

Her hands rub between your bud, causing you to make not so family friendly sounds.

You look up at the bright ceiling, panting like a dog in the summer, and you feel Rosie tug at your tie, signalling for you to not to look away. You oblige, your darling partner calls the shots as far as you're concerned.

"Hng, Rosie, go slower, I can't keep up," your pleas are heard, but Rosie does the exact opposite of your request, gnawing on your clit with her fangs, making your moans louder and more frequent. She then suck the blood that she drew from you.

You gasp when you feel the tug of your tie choke you a little too much for comfort.

"Apple Pie, I thought I said be quiet. It's rude to be disruptive in public spaces you know~"

You whine quietly in response.

Which continues Rosie and her session of lapping up all the juices flowing out of you.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long until you've reached your climax; you couldn't contain yourself anymore.

Rosie must have sensed it too, because her claws dig into your thighs, a warning to not dare come on her face.

Dear Rosie must looove making you suffer, eh? The pulse in your wet cunt is like a heartbeat. Your insides coil and contract, begging to release its load.

And just you were about to give up and let it all out, Rosie stops, looks up at your dishevelled, flushed and sweating face, and does nothing except let out a devillish cackle.

Goodness, you've always loved her laugh, but this time, it just sent blood rushing to your cheeks.

"I- need a moment-" You mumble to fix up your appearance.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ೃ⁀➷🖤♡🖤☁️ೃ⁀➷·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

"Well, that was quite the sustainful meal" Rosie sighs at her reflection in the mirror, looking pleased with herself, and fixing her lipstick.

"Rossieee, that was soo meaaan!" You whine.

Her only reply is another giggle and gives you a peck on the cheek, leaving you with a ghostly black lip mark on your face.

"Aw, don't fret my sweet, I'll make it up to you later"

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ೃ⁀➷🤍♡🤍☁️ೃ⁀➷·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

509 words~

#fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin rosie #rosie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel rosie fanart #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #hazbin art #tumblr writers #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writeblr

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months

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Earthshot

I'm pretty sure Scobie hinted at it in Endgame. I've only just now made the connection after seeing this post from @sassyfrassboss and William's announcement for Cape Town.

What makes the House of Windsor unique with this dance with the media is the competing households within it, all with their own agendas, and all doing their best to please their bosses. Up until the Queen's death, there were three houses, each with a team assigned to work with the media: Kensington Palace for William and Kate, Clarence House for Charles and Camilla, and Buckingham Palace for the monarch. There were also smaller teams under the BP umbrella who worked with other family members like Edward and Sophie, Princess Anne, and (pre-departure) Harry and Meghan. Though all part of the same institution, the rivalry between these teams is real in many ways and often derails a unified message. Each house is often angling for the same space in newspapers, hand-waving for attention with regards to their work, grabbing the ideal dates and locations for their tours and engagements, or scrambling for first dibs on charitable causes. And this rivalry often causes rifts, problems, and confusion downstream after a particular household offers breaking news or choreographs a PR operation. It was an 'absolute headache' when Charles, William, and Harry all wanted to do similar high-profile environmental work, an aide once told me. 'None of them were into the idea of collaborating; they all wanted their own big moments away from the other...It was all about competition, and the households were purposefully holding information back so others couldn't try to get ahead,' they explained.

So going down the rabbit hole:

Summer 2019 (July or August) - Harry announced Travalyst.

December 2019 - William announced the Earthshot Prize.

January 2020 - Charles announced the Sustainable Marketplaces, which evolved in 2021 as Terra Cotta.

The only reason I think these charities are what Scobie is alluding to is because of how butthurt and bent out of shape Harry got when William announced the Earthshot Prize. I can't remember what he did anymore - was it that new picture of Archie with the mountain/lake behind him or was there something more? - but whatever he did, it was immediately apparent he didn't like William's work at all.

And now with hindsight, Harry probably thought he had called dibs on environmental work when he launched Travalyst, so it wasn't fair for William to have co-opted it with the Earthshot Prize a couple months later and then it equally wasn't fair when Charles threw his own hat into the mix.

But I think the joke is on Harry. William and Charles's projects were fully developed when they launched, to where now, 4 years later, they're very successful and have name recognition all over the world. Meanwhile, no one knows what Travalyst does, people think it's a grift for Harry and Meghan to write off all their travel expenses and accept travel freebies under the guise of sustainability, and Harry's been kicked off the board. He's still listed on the website as Founder and Patron, but it's been made vrey clear in a couple of articles when the website was updated that Harry's not involved in the company anymore other than being a lightning rod for controversy.

#brf #omid scobie #endgame

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stacytea · 6 months

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Maedhros during the War of Wrath

I've been thinking a lot about it lately. Here comes a big hc drop: For starters let me say, I imagine the War of Wrath as maybe not a really long conflict, at least not very long for elvish standards, but a very devastating one. Beleriand was hardly liveable at this point, so I imagine that most of the supplies they had was what the host of Aman had brought with them. Considering that, they probably started running out of things after the first couple of years of war effort. Yes, the Balar island was still functioning at this point, but I don't think they had strong enough economy to do much more than sustain themselves and I think maybe there were some rare deliveries from Valinor from time to time, but I have this idea that it wasn't nearly enough. The war was consuming way more resources than could've been provided and as the time was going on it was getting gradually worse. Like I think that at the most critical point there were deficiencies of literally everything, from food & medical supplies to clothes & weapons. They stopped sending archers to fight, because there was no material to make arrows anymore, thousands of soldiers were dying from curable injuries, because the healers (there was a very strong shortcoming of them as well) didn't even have things as basic as bandages & maintaining hygiene was nearly impossible ( don't get me started on how it impacted Elrond who I headcanon to be one of the healers there and only something like 18 in human years and had to witness something like 5 out of 6 of his patients die and there was no time to even sleep, not to mention rest, because every wasted second is a lost life and there was just an overwhelming amount of death and despair all around him, and he wasn't able to do anything about it, wasn't able to really help) So let's imagine these thousands of exhausted, underfed, miserable, war-worn, I would even dare to say - halfway dead people, who just want this horror to end.... and then there's Maedhros. Maedhros, who had survived horrors far worse back when he had been a prisoner in angband, had survived hunger that could never be compared by any means to these little food deficiencies he had to deal with now, yeah, he didn't get to eat anything in three days, so what? This guy had watched his own downfall from the front row, had slayed civilians in Doriath and Sirion instead of fighting Morgoth... And now he was back where he belonged. On the frontlines. Leading armies against the enemy. Once again doing what he knew he should've been doing all that time. I believe during the War of Wrath Maedhros was more alive than he ever had been since his husband's Fingon's death. He was literally radiating energy and charisma, his mental state was very much improved. Once again he was Maedhros the tall, the Lord of Himring a Noldorin Warlord, not some heinous murderer, not a monster. For the first time in many years he was doing something that actually felt right.

#silmarillion #silmarillion headcanon #the silmarillion #war of wrath #maedhros #elrond #russingon #only mentioned tho

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loulouwrites · 2 months

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PROSE . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie found comfort in her letters during his darkest moments, even if they were never meant for him warnings: angst, war, death, ptsd, a bit of politics, happy ending, unedited for now word count: 2.2k a/n: a short lil story x

Lieutenant Adam Weiss would read those letters over and over, a smile on his muddy face whenever he pulled the envelopes from his pockets, almost as if the words made him forget where he was.

The letters were creased and the envelopes were worn, mud caked the sides and gritty fingerprints decorated the edges from where he would run his hand down the pages. Some of the letters were longer than others, ranging from one page to four, front and back.

Captain Alfie Solomons watched the boy pull out a fresh letter, amazed he received so many. Delivering letters to frontline soldiers was not a priority in the war, nor should it be, men waited months for notes from their family, but somehow, Adam always received his - he must have been the luckiest lad in France.

People didn't write to Alfie.

His parents were long gone, his sisters had husbands they would rather scribble away to, and the few friends he had were scattered throughout Europe, fighting the same fight he was - one none of them quite understood.

Adam's smile felt like an assault on the captain, the grin he wore reminiscent of a time before, a time that didn't exist anymore. The lieutenant had never shared who the letters were from, he kept them tucked into his breast pocket, only pulling them out when everybody else was busied with other, more important tasks.

"Who's writing you these letters?" Alfie asked the boy, trying to stretch his legs the best he could in the cramped quarters below ground.

Adam's grin faded from his face, and he shrugged non-committally, tucking the letter away.

"Just a girl I know," he said, face bashful.

"A girl you know," Alfie nodded. He was surprised he had never met Adam before the war, they were both raised in the same area, both Jewish, of a similar age, yet their paths had never crossed. "A pretty girl?"

"Just a girl," Adam scowled, crossing his arms across his chest.

The sound of gunfire interruped whatever Alfie was about to say next.

Lieutenant Adam Weiss succumbed to injuries sustained in the battlefield two weeks before the armistice was signed. He died at the age of 24, with a hole in his head, and even more in the chest.

Alfie didn't feel much when he died, there had been so much death that he feared he had become immune to it, and he was never particularly close to the man. Yet, it didn't stop him from taking the letters from the dead man's pocket before his body was dragged away.

He had no intention of reading the letters that were now kept in his own breast pocket, he wasn't even sure why he took them in the first place, but the weight of them comforted him.

More letters arrived the day after Adam died, a small envelope addressed to him at the bottom of the pile, and Alfie took that one too, snatching it from the boy who delivered them before he could question it.

It was a lot quieter these days, men were being picked off one by one, and those that were still alive, found little to talk about. At first, they would joke about finally being away from their wives, or make lewd comments about the nurses, but now, there was nothing, it was if they couldn't remember their lives before.

Alfie opened the letter before he could stop himself, the cursive handwriting was so neat, not a word had been crossed out, suggesting the author had taken their time with every word, possibly rewriting it completely whenever she made a mistake, a showing of her care, not just for the letters, but for Adam too.

He carefully read the well wishes and pleasantries. The one page letter was not particularly engaging or poetic, but the talk of day to day life in London was comforting to Alfie in the most painful way.

His eyes led to the bottom of the page, where the writing got slightly messy, and the words were slanted more than they were in the beginning.

Revolution is in the air, and peace is on the horizon. You will be home soon, hopefully before the month draws to a close, and we will celebrate your birthday together, as we have always done.

The slaughter will end, and you will be home.

Your dearest, and only friend.

She didn't sign it, there was no need to, he supposed, the letter was not for him, it was for the boy dead on the battlefield, and he already knew her name.

Alfie scoffed as he reread her words.

The slaughter will end.

Bullshit.

The armistice was signed less than two weeks later. The girl from the letters was right, the slaughter had ended and peace had come - though the men returning were forever changed.

Alfie wondered whether word about Adam had reached her, it should have by now. He considered tracking her down and telling her himself, he was the boy's captain, after all, but he had no fight in him to search for a nameless girl in London - he was tired.

The journey to London was long, they had heard them like cattle onto boats and trains, the men silently sitting in their misery, no celebration to be had.

The time allowed Alfie to read the other letters he had been carrying. He read them in no particular order, skimming through the cursive writing, more to distract himself from the sadness filling the train carriage, than anything else.

Mr Feldman brought me flowers again, he thinks I'm his dead wife.

Your mother came over for shabbat, she cried a lot.

I still go to the bakery we used to go after school, the bread isn't as nice now that Issaac isn't there to make it.

James proposed to me - again. It is the fifth time I have declined. He doesn't understand why I have no intention to marry a ten year old.

The girl talked a lot about what was happening at home, Alfie appreciated that, other than well wishes and the odd scathing political rant, she rarely mentioned the war, the men reading letters didn't need reminding of the war, the needed to be reminded of home.

Life returned to a new normal in the years following the war. Alfie was able to forget the war better than most, maybe because the violence didn't end for him. He went from a war in France to a war in London, and he enjoyed every minute of it.

Tensions rose, men died, and Alfie survived - as it was, as it always would be.

He sat in his office a lot, when everybody had left for the day, he would pull out the stack of letters from the second drawer of his desk, and read them over again, as if he couldn't recite them word for word at his point.

He had a favourite, one that was now more creased than the others, and had more bends in the edges, read far more often than others.

I had an argument with my mother, again. I shall not bore you with the details, but I am certain the war will end soon, that the trend sweeping the East will come here and you shall return home.

We will go to Abraham's bakery the day you step off the train and eat the pineapple cake you like so much, we will then go to Finsbury Gardens and spend the rest of the day there, and we shall end the day at the pub, I haven't been allowed in without my male companion.

May you remain safe and well, and may you return home soon.

Your only and closest friend.

The girl was not a particularly poetic writer, yet Alfie was more enthralled by her prose than he ever had been by Shakespeare or Austin, because alone in the dark of his office, he could lie to himself, and believe those letters were for him.

He fiddled with the papers in his hand as he stood outside of the bakery. It had just opened, and people ushered in and out, their eyes avoiding his.

He had built quite the reputation for himself upon his return.

The bell above the door dinged when he walked in, and the lady at the counter looked away from the customer she was serving to wave at him.

He hovered behind the girl in front as she chatted to the woman, laughing and pointing to various cakes and pastries.

"Sir?" The woman waved a hand up and down to get his attention, and Alfie snapped out of whatever daze he was in, clearing his throat out of embarrassment.

"Urm...yeah," he muttered, looking down at the paper in his hands. He could recite this letter word for word, why couldn't he remember the cake now?

The baker and customer watched him as his eyes flickered to the page and back up to smile apologetically at them.

"I can help," the girl smiled at him, holding a hand out for the letter. "I'm a good reader."

She thought he couldn't fucking read.

"I can read," he defended, and she held her hands up jokingly. His eyes skimmed the words, failing to find the one he needed.

What kind of fucking cake was it?

And why did he even fucking care?

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, holding the letter out to the girl. "There's a type of cake in there, can you find it?"

She let out a small laugh as she took the paper with a smile on her face. He watched as she began to read it thoughtfully, her smile slowly dropping from her face and her eyebrows pulled together. Her head snapped up, and she held the letter up, a scowl on her face.

"Where did you get this?" Her tone wasn't something Alfie could place, a mixture between shock and confusion, and something else entirely.

He was never one to be lost for words, but he couldn't string a sentence together for the life of him, what the fuck was happening?

He must have been quiet for too long, because the girl fled the bakery, brushing his shoulder as she pushed past him, the letter still in her hand.

His favourite letter.

His body reacted quicker than his brain did, and he rushed after her, jogging to catch up with her as she stormed down the street.

"Oi," he called out when he was close enough for her to hear, "give me my fuckin' letter back."

She stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face him, pushing a hand to his chest when he was close enough to touch.

"It is not your letter," she spat. "Where did you get it?"

"The fuck are you chattin' about? You stole it from me."

"And you stole it from Adam," the girl shrieked, turning to storm away again, but Alfie was faster, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"Fuckin' hell," he smiled despite himself. "You're the girl from the letters."

"Who the fuck are you?" She cried, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"My name is Alfie Solomons," he held his arms out in defense, watching as her eyes widened at his introduction.

He really did have a reputation.

"I was Adam's captain in France," he reached down to take the letter from her hand, and she didn't put up a fight when he pulled it from her grip. "I took the letters off Adam when he died."

"Why?" She whispered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Couldn't tell ya, love," he shrugged. "Maybe because they made him very happy."

Her face scrunched up as if she were in pain at his words, and she breathed a deep breath to quell the tears in her eyes.

"They made him happy?" She breathed out, Alfie nodding in confirmation.

"It was annoying, really," he joked. "They made me happy too, even if I did steal 'em."

She huffed a laugh in response, dabbing at her eyes with her gloved hands before gesturing to letter he now held in his hands.

"Keep it," she sighed. "It was pineapple cake, by the way."

She went to turn away, but Alfie spoke before she could.

"Tell me to fuck off if you want, but would you fancy goin' to Finsbury Gardens?"

She looked at him blankly, and Alfie was certain she was going to say no, to tell him to fuck off with his letter and leave her alone.

"Okay," she nodded eventually. "But only if you take me to the pub after, I need a new male companion."

"It'd be my pleasure, love."

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