#I have no idea when I’ll add to it

[taz80390]

I did a thing! Smolbi-Wan sleepwalks to some of our fave Mandos

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[myokk]

Her kisses were all-consuming and he felt his heart surrendering to her with every gentle nip, losing himself in the feeling of her. Her soft body pressing tightly against him, her breathy moans, the soft hair at the nape of her neck, her taste.

When Eloise finally pulled away from him, breathing heavily as their foreheads pressed together and their eyes locked, Sebastian was dazed and content and...happy. Merlin, he was so happy. Her cheeks were bright pink, and her lips were swollen and red and smiling up at him. His breath caught in his throat - he didn't think he had ever seen anything so beautiful as Eloise in that moment. Sebastian knew that he was grinning like a fool but he didn't care.

Happiness was bubbling up in his body and he was leaning down to kiss her again because it would never be enough and -

She started coughing.

Eloise abruptly pulled away from him, covering her mouth with her sleeve as she doubled over. A terrible, horrible, familiar wracking cough that Sebastian never thought he would hear again.

When she pulled her sleeve away from her mouth, there were little flecks of blood.

They both looked at each other in horror.

"Eloise..." he started, his voice cracking. The balloon of happiness that had filled him burst and he felt himself crashing back to the grim reality that had been his life for too long. Arms hanging limply at his sides. When his voice came out again, it was a whisper. He could barely choke the words out.

"...what did you do?"

their first kiss😇😇😇

[raaorqtpbpdy]

You know, there’s a lot of psychologist Jazz content around, and I enjoy it, but I’ve actually never read a fic where she’s a brain surgeon, the career she canonically wants. They may be out there but I’ve never seen one, and I read a lot of fic.

I’m not necessarily complaining. This is just an observation. It does make sense that she could start out wanting to be a brain surgeon and discover that she would actually prefer to become a psychologist and not have to get into the ooey-gooey of physically poking around in people’s brains, and it suits her and all that.

However, I do think there’s some missed angst potential here in the dissection/vivisection fandom as to why Jazz might decide to change her mind about wanting to cut people’s heads open.

[ohitslen]

Guys, guys, hear me out-

more blood.

Thanks.

[queerdiazs]

wip snippet game + tease tidbit tuesday 🫧💖

(i’m smashing these 2 games together like they’re barbies and making them kiss okay)

i was tagged by @ladydorian05, @alyxmastershipper, @fortheloveofbuddie, @wikiangela, @disasterbuckdiaz, @jesuisici33, @housewifebuck, @loserdiaz, @wildlife4life, and @exhuastedpigeon (and if i missed anybody i’m so sorry, i’m on my phone and it never likes to work for me)

i hope y’all enjoy this teasing snippet, teehee

Buck puts a hand on Eddie’s lower stomach and squeezes the layer of fat there. “I want to put a baby,” he says, grinning crookedly, “right here, Eddie.”

gonna tag @honestlydarkprincess, @watchyourbuck, @callmenewbie, @eddiediaztho, @eowon, @rogerzsteven, and everybody else who wants to share today 🫶🏼

[fruitageoforanges]

saw a post about how rhaegar was the best-placed person to stand up to aerys and how he failed, and now i have brainworms about it.

because he was (short of… well, robert, it turns out), and he did fail. he was too weak when it counted to ultimately save his wife and children. there are no heroes. grand designs always fail at the level of a man. and men are weak and fallible.

(side note: not anti-rhaegar. clown on this post at your peril.)

[gregmarriage]

i’m back temporarily, bc it’s my birthday in an hour and a half, and i’m having a mini breakdown, hehe x

[mymelodyisme]

Mys

I smooched Shane

👏🏽 AS SHOULD BE DONE👏🏽

Many Shane smooches along his face and right back onto yours

[fishyartist]

Wanting 2 make a scope creep nightmare of a visual novel vs my inability to focus on jack shit ever in my life.

[fingertipsmp3]

How do I steer my friend who wants to learn a martial art with me towards karate and/or kickboxing without admitting that the only reason I don’t want to do MMA is because I’ll probably break my nails by punching stuff

[yoohyeon]

I only have one xmas gift left to do cause I rage quit the last time and now it won’t open on my iPad

[cursingtoji]

summary: clan leader!gojo needs a favor from your clan but as the leader you refuse, so he proposes to give you a child since your husband is unable to.

"and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?"

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…then i’ll kill your husband myself and marry you.”

nsfw ahead cw: historical au, infidelity, pregnancy, creampie, child birth, satoru is pathetically in love. featuring samurai bodyguard geto and toji.

“i thought we had solved all our business with the gojo clan” your husband says from the door he leans on.

“and i did” you emphasize the i since the head of your clan is you and only you went to the clan meetings that got things solved. you tapped your lips a little bit more to place the reddish pigment looking at the mirror, “but satoru summoned this meeting and gave no details.”

“satoru huh?” your husband points, not letting go unnoticed the fact you used his first name without formalities.

“all right” you take one step back checking if your kimono is proper, “see you tonight” you peck his lips lightly to not ruin the tint on yours and proceed to the carriage outside.

for years the gojo clan and yours avoided each other due to some very old beef that no one remembers or even was alive when it happened, so when your mother passed and you assumed as the new head you soon decided to reach out to make peace with the current head of the rival clan and a friendly relationship was restored. more often than not you two met, sometimes with other clan members or even other clans when necessary, but today gojo insisted on being just the two of you.

toji, your bodyguard, opens the carriage door when you arrive and give you his hand for you to step out.

to avoid any issues the place of the meeting was always the temple middle way your residences. from time to time your families attended the prayers there, that’s when your husband saw satoru for the first time.

“where’s his wife?” he asked the first time you pointed the white-haired man as the clan head after you made peace.

“he doesn’t have one.”

“fiancée then?”

“i don’t think so” you both watched discreetly as he greeted the monks.

“i find that quite odd. what about the black-haired man?” he pointed to geto, gojo’s bodyguard, “could they be involved romantically?” geto leaned to whisper something to his master, a little bit too close if you might add, a few more inches and his lips would be touching satoru’s ear. his romantic life was no business of yours but you didn’t like the idea of him having any partners, didn’t seem right, though deep down you knew it was very unlikely for a handsome man like him to be alone. both men somehow found your curious gaze.

“geto” you greet the known bodyguard as you enter the temple, and he bows to you, your bodyguard nods at him as well and you’re guided to the secret room.

the conversation went on for almost an hour, satoru served you tea when he noticed you finished yours, which was unusual for a clan head to do such a mundane task but he always insisted no servant join on your private meetings. you always thought he was particularly paranoid about spies, but that suspicion was dismissed when you had your first meeting with other clan heads and he didn’t oppose the people that stayed in the back of the room waiting for their master’s orders.

“satoru we went over this on the last meeting, why am i here?” you are getting impatient, satoru always seemed relaxed when he was at the temple like it’s the one place people don’t come to him with problems, so he tended to do things without any rush at all.

“so impatient…” he smirks, “i was getting to the point but fine. i need your doctors for a few weeks.”

because of the many wars and the necessity to heal mainly the samurai your clan became specialized in healing techniques and remedies instead of combat.

“is someone injured?” you raised your eyebrow, it wasn’t likely for satoru to ask for something like this when he could’ve sent a letter.

“no. but we are expecting a conflict soon and—”

“let me stop you there satoru” you raised your hand and for a second you saw a glimpse of annoyance cross his features, “we don’t get involved with battles anymore, the healers go through extensive training and i can’t risk losing them in battle.”

“so instead of putting their knowledge into practice you rather keep them locked in a room reading books?”

“they are busy with research at the moment” you raise your chin unwilling to budge on the matter.

“is that so?” he tilted his head smiling “and how many people does it take to figure out your husband is infertile?”

you widened your eyes, this is way too personal of a matter for someone else, especially another clan head, to know.

on the other side of the door, geto and toji guarded the room, they were close enough to listen to the conversation and without turning his head geto looked at toji with his eyebrow raised, to which toji only nodded confirming the rumors.

“you’re not the only one with little birds across territories, sweetheart” his smile only seems to grow.

“that is no business of yours. besides, lending you my healers will only harm my clan and, as i said, put them at unnecessary risk” you managed to find your composure back and avoid the infertility topic.

“don’t you trust i have the best warriors? you seemed to when we came to your aid” he reminded a time you asked for their men.

“i paid for that.”

“and what makes you think i won’t?”

“we don’t need money.”

“i’m not talking about money” he drops the volume of his voice.

“listen, satoru—” you rise to your feet sensing the tone of this conversation is off.

“i’m listening, for a very long time i’ve been listening” he rises as well and takes a few steps in your direction, “you know what i listen to? the rumors about your family threatening to make your brother head of the clan if you don’t bear an heir soon.”

you take a step back.

“or the resources you’ve been spending to research a treatment for your husband. tell me, darling, can he even get it up for you?” he is too close now, you can see all the details of his insanely blue eyes.

“he— that’s not a problem” you accidentally confess.

“of course it’s not, look at you” his finger brushes your cheek and the touch makes you burn under your skin, “i could give you a child” he lowers his head to your ear, running his lips on it, “a healthy, smart, beautiful child” he presses his hand on your belly over the thick material of your clothes, “and it wouldn’t even be an effort” he presses his hardened member on your hip.

“and what am i to do when the child comes out with a white head of hair and blue eyes?” you look into his eyes challenging him to a solution.

“if that happens…” he undoes the knot that holds your kimono together and pushes the material down your arms with no resistance from you, “…i’ll kill him myself and take his place as your husband.”

you gasp, not expecting such an answer from the man you always watched trying to find a way to avoid violence.

satoru kisses your jaw then your cheek and when he gets close to your lips you turn your head, your conscience only now, in this intimate act, attacking you.

“he’s not fulfilling his duty” he whispers, letting go of the knot on his kimono, taking your hand and putting it on his chest. you open your eyes, not even aware you had closed them, and see his sculpted torso, so close to you, so warm…

“it’s not your fault, can’t you see?” he raises your chin, “it wasn’t meant to be, unlike us” you know he’s just telling you what you want to hear, but in his voice everything made sense.

“you’ll see” he picks you up and lowers his body with you back to the mat in the middle of the room, his kimono is still around his arms while yours was forgotten somewhere else, leaving only the very thin, dress-like, white undergarment that pretty much showed everything.

satoru lowers his head to your chest, his tongue wetting your nipple over the material, “i bet you’ll become even prettier” he replaces your breast with his hand, big and hot, and goes to the other nipple, “with your breasts heavy and a big belly” he sucks on you, hardly, you put your hand over your mouth.

satoru raises your legs over his shoulders, “your feet will get tired” he kisses the inner thigh, “but you’ll still come and see me” you thought it sounded like a question, it was a statement.

his head goes down, as he kisses your folds your back arches, he licks a stripe ending on your clit and flickering it.

satoru starts to lose himself, he gets too intoxicated by you, almost forgetting time is running against him here. he doesn’t have much longer until your bodyguard gets suspicious and calls for you, and by the way your hand is tight against your mouth he doubts you’ll be able to give a proper response.

he wants to make you cum before he shoots his load, suguru’s intel told him you asked one of the doctors if the woman needed to come to increase the chances. it doesn’t take much medical knowledge to interpret that question.

you cum on his tongue pulling him out of his dreams where he imagined himself doing that every night after those boring fucking meetings he has to attend at every slight inconvenience in his clan.

“it’s gonna be okay, just relax for me” he pushes his length slowly before you get the chance to see his size. you whisper his name behind your hand and he can’t stand not seeing your whole face, so he takes your hand out of the way and kisses your wet lips pushing his tongue and swallowing your moans as he goes deeper and starts to pick a pace.

satoru holds back a curse, reminding himself he’s in a sacred place and although anyone would say that’s ironic given what you’re doing in the temple he would argue that’s even more sacred than what most people prayed for.

you start to feel his weight down on you as he trusts get sloppier, he’s still kissing you, holding your lips with his when he twitches and fills your insides, in your drunk mind you think it’s so much more than what you’re used to.

after he catches his breath he pushes himself up and out of you, you allow yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment but you open them wide again when satoru pushes his cum back into you with his finger, “keep it deep and warm for me, yes?”

one hour later you pass through the door your bodyguard slides open for you to enter your chambers. on the way there you realized there’s no chance he and geto didn’t grasp on what was happening inside the room.

“toji?” you call before he can close the door and go to his personal room, he stops, indicating he listens although he doesn’t respond with the formality others usually do, “i trust you won’t share with anyone what happened today” you speak firmly looking the tall man behind you over your shoulder, his scar stretches slightly with his smirk, the man bows and closes the door.

they said it was a road accident, the horse got spooked and ran, by the time they found it there was no rider so they searched your husband and found his body down the mountain.

the ritual was long, you wore the traditional widow clothing, accepting the kind words of the clan members and the prayer of the monks. though you really were sad, all this pity was making you sicker than…

“at least you didn’t have kids, no child deserves to grow up with a dead father” an old lady says to comfort you while holding your hands.

“excuse me” you turn around walking slowly to not raise suspicions and as soon as it is just you on the other side of your home you bend your torso and throw up all you’ve eaten before the funeral.

you cough and when a tissue enters your field of vision you immediately take it and clean your mouth.

you feel your stomach empty but the light volume below it reminds you of whose fault it is.

you raise with the tissue on your lips to say thank you and the sight of the white-haired man makes you choke.

“shh, it’s okay, i’m here as an ally, to give my condolences to a friend in grief” there’s absolutely no seriousness in his tone.

“what about the war?” you ask through heavy breathing.

“that was child’s play, don’t worry, your healers will return safe and sound in a few days” he puts his hand on your shoulder to calm you down, you do.

satoru takes a second to drop his sight to your belly, it has been a month since your last encounter, and by your sensitive stomach he knows that one time was enough for you to get pregnant.

“do you think you can hide it for another month until the wedding? then when the child is born we’ll just say it was a premature birth” god, your former husband’s body was barely cold and gojo is already planning the wedding and what to say about the baby.

“why now?” you look up at his mischievous eyes, he knows what you’re asking truly.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, it was an accident right?” he touches your face, brushing away a tear that came out, more of a natural body reaction of your gagging than a sadness reaction.

“satoru, tell me” you demanded.

“i just reflect a little you know? when i said i would kill him you never asked me not to. besides, i don’t want another man to think they own what’s mine” his eyes are darker, you think he’s talking about the child in your womb but by the intensity of his gaze, you realize he’s talking about you. “if you need anything tell suguru, i’ll have him staying in the village until we announce the wedding.”

“no, i have toji, don’t want anyone suspecting geto’s intentions” you defend.

gojo doesn’t seem to like it, but he doesn’t argue either, “either way, i want to see you. meet me at the temple in five days, we’ll talk about the arrangements” he leans in and kisses your forehead before turning away and then back “i almost forgot” he reaches for something inside his sleeve and pulls out a shiny golden bracelet with gems and puts it on your palm, you know you can’t wear it now but god it’s gorgeous, “came from the west especially for you” he puts his hand on top of yours and leaves it there for a long moment as you look into each other's eyes. satoru is fighting the urge to kiss you, if someone catches you he can’t say he’s comforting his recently widowed friend, so he forces himself to let go of you and go head back to his village.

the midwife instructs you to push harder as her helper dabs a wet cloth on your forehead. you’re squatting, on your knees giving your all to push the baby out.

finally one last push is all that it takes for the little one to come out, you want to lay down and close your eyes, but you need to see the baby first so you mumble something with your arms open, the midwife cleans baby’s face through crying and screaming.

“it’s a boy” she whispers putting him in your arms. satoru enters when he hears the cries and kneels in front of you. behind him are both suguru and toji, who aren’t allowed to enter but the men are also very eager to see the child they can’t help but try to peek.

you balance the boy in your hold for a little bit till he stops crying and when he opens his eyes you see the blue sky.

“give him to the father, we’re not over” the midwife says.

“what?” you, satoru, toji and suguru ask. the last two get an angry look from the midwife and remove themselves from the scene.

“the next one will come out soon” she puts new towels below you.

“two children? at once?” you ask in disbelief then look at satoru who can only smile apologetically.

after god knows how long you’re finally allowed to rest as the babies were cleaned and fed. the second one was a girl, with identical blue eyes as her brother and father.

“i can’t believe you put two kids in me” satoru is outside the wooden tub, breaking all tradition by helping you bathe after the birth.

“can’t say i’m sorry for that” he rubs your shoulders, “you were incredible” he confesses now that there’s only the two of you. satoru refuses to even let your feet touch the floor, he takes you out of the tub once the water starts to cool down, placing you on a dry surface and getting on his knees to dry your feet, you reach out to touch his face.

“i love you, satoru” you blurt, overwhelmed by your feelings for the man who was once your rival.

he looks up from his position, taking the hand on his face and kissing your palm, then your pulse, he kisses inch by inch of your arm until his lips are on yours, “i love you.”

"pay up, pretty boy" toji approaches geto.

"excuse me?" suguru looks up from the sword he's polishing now that gojo dismissed him for the rest of the night.

"i said it was gonna be a boy."

"yeah and then a girl came out right after so the bet was invalidated."

"there's no such a thing, the boy will inherit it all anyway" toji crosses his arms, geto laughs, fishing a coin from his pocket since he knows toji will say anything to win the bet.

"and what makes you say that? there's two clans and now two heirs" toji snatches the coin as soon as he sees the silver glow.

"that's just how it has ever been" he turns his back to geto who drives his attention back to his sword.

"things are changing old man.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[petitommo]

getting plotline ideas for three wips left and right and the line «it’s been ten years and i still fucking write songs about you» FUCKING BROKE ME

[slowparts]

sometimes i forget that this is actually a blog i can write about my life on. crazy right. anyways. this will probably be the first of many bc shits getting fucking insane in the membrane.

tw medical, cancer maybe, some vast unnameable fear saturday

gabriel has multiple masses in his neck and lymph nodes that we found out about on tuesday. one is nearly two inches long. he’s been complaining about neck pain for months. he had a regular checkup last week, his doc correctly noted his enlarged lymph nodes and ordered an ultrasound, he went for that on monday. on Thursday the (marked urgent) orders for the ct scan of his major lymphatic system + biopsy of his neck finally got sent to the hospital for scheduling. they haven’t called us yet though so i’ll be ringing them in the morning.

and like. yeah. i’ve felt his neck and i can feel it in there. this sounds dumb but he’s always had a big fucking neck. he’s just built like that, with a jawline that can retreat into his neck at a moments notice. he loves making people laugh with it. and yeah under his beard it’s obviously there. and i realize i’ve been staring at it for weeks, months maybe. noting something was off but not putting together what. even if i had, he’s a round soft boy. i’d never say a fucking thing about his chins getting bigger bc i know he feels self conscious about it sometimes. like i couldn’t have known. he’s been attributing his neck pain to his incredibly long working hours lifting things and working the restaurant. he’s been in pain for months and we still don’t know anything about it. i do not want to pre-worry about hypotheticals when we don’t even know what it is. and honestly, most of the time i fully believe it. i can usually talk myself (and often him, too) through a wave of fear about the not knowing, and the waiting. right before i am trying to sleep is the hardest. i dont want to take any meds to help at this point bc i need to be up in about 4 hours and be at work an hour or two after that, but the fear is eating me alive right now. so im writing this to hopefully exorcise some of it, maybe wear my brain out just enough to crash.

it might not even be anything as bad as all that. but it could be, and that’s going to be the rock in my shoe until we know literally anything besides how big the masses are. which coupled with the months of his being in neck pain—he is fucking averse to ibuprofen so whenever he complains about aching and i offer meds he declines 75% of the time, so i always just assume it’s because. he is lifting shit all day at work and when he’s not lifting things he’s at a computer doing other work things. he’s an achy boy and i rub his shoulders and kiss him lots and love him with everything in me. anyway i just assumed it wasn’t anything major. —so the size of the masses + the amount of time he’s been in pain = I’m Really Fucking Concerned. and i can’t fucking do anything about it right now so i should just go to sleep. but when i put my phone down and close my eyes and try to sleep, im more aware of him next to me. and i love him being there. but my brain is making extremely unsolicited leaps and bounds from “oh, my partner is next to me in bed, i love sleeping next to him” to “what if he wasn’t next to me in bed and what if he never would be again because he died from this thing” which is like. literally THE most unhelpful thought to be having while you’re trying to sleep. So i’m gonna ride it out until sleep comes for me like a brick, or until my shift ends tomorrow.

i am so fucking scared. i don’t think i have ever felt fear like this before. everyone in my family who died of cancer died before i was born. i have only ever seen this play out at arms length. if i dwell on that fear, if i try to say what it is i’m afraid of (because for me, naming it is the first step to working through it), its like something primordial in my brain takes over. tangle of eels, oil spill dark and swallowing. no language for it yet.

when he had appendicitis and was in incredible amounts of pain, he described his pain on the 1-10 scale as a 3, maybe a 4. Granted that was nearly 9 years ago and he’s more aware of the fact that he as a man is allowed to be in pain and express it and treat it. so tonight he described the pain in his neck as a 7 that went down to a 5 with the ibuprofen. when he said 7 i had to stop myself from putting him in the car and taking him to the hospital right then. but it was already down to a 5. and he’s sleeping, and has been for a while now, so well at least wait until the morning.

i know he’s scared too, and i truly do not want him to have to be thinking about my fucked up brain feelings in the insomnia hours on top of everything else right now. i will not be telling him about this bc i want to self soothe. its a great time for me to practice. tomorrow night with meds. bc tonight i genuinely don’t think im sleeping. the clock just keeps…. going. and i keep being here.

and the fuck of it all is i do not know. and we wont for days to come. and i just have to live with that and keep reminding myself that it might not be that bad, and that lymphoma has a really high survival rate if it is that, and at least we know about it now. and the hospital has the orders for the next steps and he or i will call tomorrow to see if we can get the ct scan + biopsy scheduled as soon as possible. and tomorrow night, instead of dreading bedtime and spiraling the second i put my phone down for the night, i will take one of my anxiety meds preemptively. if i took it now id be zonked by the time i have to be at work and i do better sleep-deprived and winging it utterly than i do sleep-deprived with benzodiazepines in my system. but tomorrow night i can plan better. and we will get through it.

i love him so much. i know i know i know he will be okay. i don’t need to worry about all that right now.

also somehow!!!! on top of ALL OF THIS!!!!!! my brain is somehow able to sustain a positively unhinged crush on a friend, who doesn’t use tumblr thank god. few truly safe spaces remain in this world for me to have a full on mental breakdown complete with insomnia and inexplicable horniness. sorry that’s more than you needed probably. no actually im not sorry it’s my blog. this is under a readmore. if you’re here you’re in it now.

i think i started writing this post like two hours ago. at least 90 minutes have elapsed. Anyways. i love you im kissing you on the forehead and thank you for reading this and being here with me in a way. i love you.