#I’ve made him a lover

[blep-23]

Food is bad today. My mouth is feeling too much texture and it’s terrible.

Anyway have Samon!

[cowchickenbeefpork]

It is fascinating to me that Edward nygma is the only man who has someone in love with them kill their lover and justify it. Every time this happens to a character besides from Ed it happens to a female character. The fact his own desperation to not face responsibility for doing that action toward a woman makes this more tragic

[ladychandraofthemoone]

In my au Stanley (narrow gauge) has a special interest in insects (I hc him as being into animals, they don’t judge you for your “jinx” and he’s got a soft spot for critters that are seen as “bad luck”) and tends to blurt out the most detailed information, he often info-dumps with and to Nia who encourages it cause it makes him happy once he’s freed from his “jinx” and she know every single insect name alphabetically along with their scientific names and nicknames Here we have Duke immediately regretting asking them if they can name every single species and ends up sleeping when they’re engrossed in their conversation before leaving when they were in the mid section of the e category (Nia gave him “the disappointment older sister look” awhile back so the poor guy can trapped there and wondered how did he got ever himself into this situation)

Basically it’s just Stanley to Duke in alphabetical order: Alderflies Angel Insects Anoplura (Sucking lice) Ants Antlions Aphids Archeognatha (Bristletails) Barklice Bees Beetles Bird lice Biting lice Blattodea (Cockroaches) Booklice Bristletails Bugs Butterflies Caddisflies Chewing lice Cicadas Cockroaches Coleoptera (Beetles) Collembola (Springtails) Crickets Damselflies Diplura Diptera (Flies) Dobsonflies Dragonflies-

Nia joining in cause she was mad at Duke: ah yes the alderfly which are megalopteran insects of the family Sialidae. They are closely related to the dobsonflies and fishflies as well as to the prehistoric Euchauliodidae. All living alderflies – about 66 species all together are part of the subfamily Sialinae, which contains nine extant genera. Sialinae have a body length of less than 25 mm (1 inch), long filamentous antennae, and four large dark wings of which the anterior pair is slightly longer than the posterior. They lack ocelli and their fourth tarsal segment is dilated and deeply bilobed. Dead alderfly larvae are used as bait in fishing-

duke:shooketh (Nia’s is basically the train version of a encyclopedia also her design is based off of MrTerrier673 on Twitter)

[humofbumblebees]

hey, you guys think about how agatha’s probably so mad at rio because she didn’t get to say goodbye to nicky

[sillspore]

Now that brambleclaw and squirrelflight aren't mates, how would Alderheart and Sparkpelt being born? Most AUs (not saying those aus are bad) just have Bramblestar as a nothing character either as a villain with no personality or forgettable, with the personlity of wheat bread "man wife"

A lot of Bramnleclaw's character in/is about Squirrelflight and their love triangle with Ashfur. I can't really see (again no offense to you. Just airing my thoughts) as him being nothing character, if he isn't her mate than how would TBC happen or would that series never happen because Ashfur or Brambleclaw aren't mates with Squirrelflight. How would plotpointd such as his relationship with firestar would become? It would be jus them as adoptive siblings?

beware, this shit is long! soooo much more under the cut.

i’ve been thinking about this! basically, squilf would replace leafpool in the forbidden romance plot with crowfeather. during tpb, all of squilf’s romance will be with crowfeather. we get his pov during the journey, where he will be close with feathertail but crushing on squirrelpaw. we get squilf’s pov when they get home, where we can hear her internal debates over her feelings about crowpaw and missing him. she is attached to brambleshade (brambleclaw), but in a sibling way. in my head, firestar is a pseudo-dad to bramble, so a sibling dynamic makes sense. however, this isn’t reciprocated the same way. bramble grows to be in love with squirrelflight.

in twilight, squirrel and crow debate leaving, but decide against it and amicably agree to split. at the same time, leafpool is having the same issue with mothwing — mothwing cares little about the warrior code, and would much rather leave the clans and live their lives in peace, with a bonus of the fact that hawkfrost would never follow her and she’d be free of him. they run away, but come back just in time, like the leafcrow romance in canon.

as a note, because tc doesn’t share borders with rc, they had no idea it was mothwing that leafpool ran away with.

afterward, in sunset, squirrelflight grows closer to bramble and ashfur is scorned, much like in canon. she realizes he assumes she’s in love with bramble, and she lets this happen to dissuade him from trying to “win” her back. she feels safe doing this, because she assumes her sibling feelings towards bramble are the same from his side.

(note: squilf did date ashfur while she was arguing with bramble, but at first it was just friendship. she thought he’d make a great mate, and she could forget about crowfeather and maybe even have kits. but as he grows more controlling, she breaks up with him. soon after, she reconciles with bramble and ashfur takes this as badly as possible.)

after the whole saving her dad thing, squirrelflight is delighted. (side note again: bramble does become deputy, because longtail retires early. longstar would be too good of a leader, we need a shit one, for plot reasons.) bramble is delighted, because he thinks this means she loves him “again”. leafpool had no idea about the crowfeather thing, and tells squilf about the dream starclan sent of squilf and bramble walking side by side. squilf takes this to mean starclan wants her and bramble as mates (they absolutely do, the meddling weirdos), but with the way she feels about him? she isn’t fond of the idea. however, at the book’s end, leafpool tells her she’s pregnant. squilf knows exactly who’s they are — and she is both petrified and delighted. it’s complicated situation, she’s so overjoyed to have her love’s kits, but he will never know them and the clan will be suspicious. everyone knows she was courting ashfur but spends all her time with bramble now, so they’ll assume it’s one of theirs. so will the two cats in question. if she refuses to say who, it’ll be very obvious their father is not thunderclan. she tells this much to leafpool, who advises her to follow starclan’s wish and become bramble’s mate, for real. squilf tries to convince herself this will be okay, because it’s what starclan wants.

later, leafpool tells her she’s carrying mothwing’s kits, and they (TOGETHER) devise the plan to have squilf raise them, which will be easy because she’ll actually have milk here. bramble is over the moon at the news of kits, and squilf is dying inside. it’d be a depressing inner monologue, her trying to convince herself she can be happy like this.

leafpool fakes a starclan vision, saying squirrelflight must visit the moonpool immediately, for plot reasons. squilf gives birth up there, and crow stumbles upon them. there’s a unique herb growing in the cave that he was sent to retrieve for his “mate” (they’ve come to an agreement: crow takes night as his mate to look loyal, and the kits she has won’t appear as if they were fathered by a rogue, like they actually were), nightcloud, who’s about to give birth. he sees squilf’s kits, they get emotional and sappy. there’s two kits, unnamed. together, they name them hollykit and breezekit, and crow takes breezekit (the one out of rhe two without red on him) back to wc to be raised by nightcloud with her kits. he’ll blend right in with the litter.

a few hours later, leafpool gives birth to jaykit, lionkit (still haven’t decided his name change), and dovekit. after another day, a tc patrol comes to get them, wondering what took them so long, surprised to find squirrelflight’s four kits! they carry ‘em home, and squilf settles in the nursery, fussed over by brambleshade. about a week later, dovekit dies, and squilf is heartbroken. she grows listless and finds it hard to take care of her remaining kits, but later recovers and is a great mom.

power of three goes pretty close to canon, major plot wise. hollyleaf is not a member of the three, but it makes SENSE bc she wasn’t actuallt part of the three’s litter. dovekit was, who was later reincarnated into whitewing’s kit, dovekit, in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled. for the fire scene, it goes the same mostly, squilf claiming they aren’t her kits, ashfur says idc you love them anyway. i think i may have firestar save them from ashfur here, losing his final life. after the fire, squilf admits that hollyleaf is her kit, but the other two aren’t. hollyleaf pries the whole story out of leafpool, and goes STRAIGHT to brambleshade, before he goes to receive his nine lives. he thanks her for telling him, and he is heartbroken (because, apparently, his wife never loved him.) and furious. none of his kits were his, some of them were even leafpool’s! after he’s made bramblestar, he appoints hollyleaf as his deputy, citing that she’s the only one he can trust. things go to shit, sol, hollyleaf snaps and kills ashfur, hollyleaf tells the clans everything, including the prophecy, etc etc. hollyleaf dies, killed by the falling rocks in the tunnels. her role in the great battle stays the same, as does firestar’s, bc their ghosts can still kick ass.

after this, during omen of the stars, we see bramble actively punishing squirrelflight. everything is shit. i don’t know who i’ll have him pick as deputy, but they’ll die during the flood of bramblestar’s storm. jessy happens, etc etc, squilf and him make up. she apologizes, and he apologizes, but he kinda makes it about him, hmmm….

anyway, spark and alder are bramblesquirrel kits still. i haven’t thought about major plot for avos yet, i’ve barely thought about pot and oots. but, squilf is made deputy, and the broken code is a thing. bramblestar is freed of rhe possession, but there will be a scene where squirrelcrow have a Moment and bramblestar loses his shit. he accuses her of betraying him, of being cruel and evil, yada yada. brambleshade is a little weird, maybe kinda vindictive, but bramblestar is out of his mind. the sheer amount of power he has and his desire to use it against her is dangerous. he is very clearly an evil person, despite the sympathies he has. anyway, bramblestar tries to exile her, but spark stops him. she, and the clan, are OVER bramblestar, who was just as bad a leader as the imposter. he is stripped of his name and lives via rhe new warrior code rule, and the clan watches in horror as he loses all but his last life in real time. he’s moved to the medicine den. meanwhile, squilf becomes a star, and appoints ivyclaw (ivypool) her deputy. she gives brambleshade the option of leaving the clan or retiring, and he hobbles his old ass to the elder’s den.

after all this, crowfeather decides to join thunderclan, and squirrelstar happily accepts him, daring anyone to argue. they get their happily ever after, and it’s very sweet. maybe breeze even comes with his dad, tired of his clan’s scorn? regardless, it’s a very awkward time for nightheart watching his grandad spit obscenities at his step-grandad. wild.

pls tell me if this is incoherent ive never written my ideas out for the squirrelcrow bramblesquirrel plot before !!!

[soldierandawar]

.

[yuukimiyas]

I AM GNAWING AT THE DOOR FRAME THIS MORNIE BC!!! LOVER BOY IN THE NEW BLLK EP!!! ໒꒰ྀི˵ˊᯅˋ˵ ꒱ྀི১ I AM WEEPING I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH!!! THE WAY I AM BEAMING AT THE WAY THEY ANIMATED HIM THIS EP!! (ˆ꜆ᵒ̴̷͈ · ᵒ̴̷͈ )♡ HE IS MY EVERYTH!! THE STARS TO MY MOON!! THE PB TO MY J!! HE!! HE !!! HEEEEE !!!!!!!

[kavehayati]

I beg have we been playing the same game orrrr

[urcadelima]

can’t stop thinking about silver’s final speech to madi describing flint’s unmaking as a description of himself as he returned to madi after thinking she had died. Whatever.

[stripesysheaven]

I had a dream the other day that I was getting railed by Ben Linus and when I woke up I was so sad that it wasn't real I literally can't stop thinking about it and I'm a little bit drunk right now and needed to get this off my chest

USUXUCUZUUY I LOVE THAT

…..do you remember any of the details……asking for a friend 👀

[crossbackpoke-check]

wait you got me so invested in the stammer & heddy tailor au....

this is my standard disclaimer that i have never posted a fic on ao3* and for however much i say “au” i truly mean that it’s a universe that lives in my head & i am absolutely delighted to tell you all about, all the time <3 if it helps i ALSO got me so invested in the heddy & stammer tailor au

ok now that the author’s note is out of the way here’s some notes about the not!fic heddy & stammer tailor au:

stammer as the tailor from gent’s playbook, very reserved, quiet, with an excellent eye for details (honestly the evidence i have for his style sense is just that he’s best friends with pk subban so it has to be there somewhere if only by proxy irl) is hired by victor hedman, star of the tampa bay lightning who is every other tailor’s nightmare to dress (huge, opinionated, fashionable)

heddy is decently well-known throughout the league for being very well-dressed & becomes quietly well known for also being one of his new tailor’s favorite loyal customers [heddy has the nicest fabrics. he has his suits the first day a new collection drops & e v e r y o n e is jealous]

stammer’s business booms after heddy takes a chance on him as his first big client & promotes him, heddy sees him grow in popularity & get more clients

heddy also moonlights as a model for stammer’s suits on instagram, initially to help him grow his business because then he won’t have to pay for a model and then because he’s over there all the time anyway because they’re dating (that’s why the model’s face is never in the pictures)

there’s not really a plot to this besides the vague idea of a plot where stammer makes heddy his lucky suit that he wins the cup in & sews a special little tag into the lining of his jacket that says i love you

because love sometimes is picking out the perfect right color pocket square to match your husband’s beautiful suit that you fitted like a kiss to the curves of his huge body

& also sometimes love is making your beautiful husband who makes you beautiful clothing enjoy nice things for himself once in a while, like the fancy watch you bought him or the nice suit you custom-ordered for him (from him) just so you could take it off of him

[oglegoggle]

My body aches so fucking bad, my dudes.

[d1anna]

sorry i haven’t been online i’ve been hyperfixating on bolstering my dynasty in ck3

[kimjunnoodle]

sometimes i hate that i’m so nice bc my ex just sent me pics of my/their favorite band and he and his Wife™ got matching tattoos and i want to drink a gallon of lava now

[poppyseed799]

I have this problem that’s like the opposite of nostalgia or something where some things I remember liking a lot as a child I look back and only remember the bad times.

This is specifically about Animal Crossing, loved that game as a kid, but I have literally no idea why, cuz it was just pure hell for me from what I can remember.

[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