#edited to add only friends and the outing

[cameronsbabydoll]

your kids asking the cod men (+konig and graves) about area 51

a/n: i know area 51 is in the US but this is just a fun crack fic

♡ john price (dad mode: engaged)

you’re washing dishes in the kitchen. wearing that robe he bought you. your youngest is drawing on the fridge whiteboard. your oldest, spoon in hand, squints up at him like a little detective.

“dad, do aliens live in area 51?”

price, sipping his tea, doesn’t miss a beat:

“they did. we evicted ’em in ‘98.”

you laugh softly. “john—”

“one of ’em tried to take your mum on a date,” he adds, folding the paper, eyes twinkling. “had to break four of his fingers. little green shit never came back.”

he winks at you. you roll your eyes. your kid is stunned.

and later? your child draws an alien with a broken hand and writes “DADDY GOT HIM” on the page.

♡ soap mactavish (unhinged uncle energy but dad edition)

he’s making pancakes in the kitchen. shirtless. your toddler’s sitting on the counter with pancake batter on their nose.

“daddy, do you have alien friends?”

“aye,” he says, flipping a pancake. “one of ‘em owed me five bucks. i never forget.”

you walk in mid-convo and he’s just saying:

“—and their hands are like spaghetti. weirdest handshake ever.”

you: “johnny.”

soap: “babe. he asked.”

later, your kid tries to shake your hand using only four floppy fingers.

♡ gaz (the realist but turns into a menace)

sitting on the sofa with a kid on each side. watching cartoons. sippy cup half-empty. suddenly:

“dad? what’s in area 51?”

he sighs. dramatic. long.

“tax fraud, mostly.”

you giggle from the kitchen. but then—he leans in real close to the kids, drops his voice:

“but one time, i saw a guy walk through a wall. he’s probably still there.”

you shout: “KYLE.”

he grins. the kids are silent for the next twenty minutes, watching the door.

♡ ghost (dad of silence, until he isn’t)

your kid is colouring next to him at the table. he’s drinking coffee in complete silence. you’re folding laundry.

“dad, are aliens real?”

he doesn’t answer at first.

then, softly:

“only met one. didn’t speak. just stared.”

your child: :o

“it blinked sideways,” he adds, sipping his mug. “still see it in my dreams.”

you: “simon.”

“what?” he shrugs. “builds character.”

your kid doesn’t sleep that night. neither does he. bonding.

♡ graves (suburban menace. king of dad lies.)

he’s mowing the lawn. your kid runs up with popsicle-stained hands yelling:

“dad, are aliens real?!”

he stops, takes off his sunglasses.

“kiddo, not only are they real—your mum was one.”

your child: screams

you from the porch: “phillip!”

“how else you think she got eyes like that?” he calls, grinning.

later, he lets your kid wear his sunglasses and says,

“you see any green guys? tell your old man. we’ll handle it.”

♡ könig (gentle giant, terrified)

you’re all sitting on the couch. popcorn. cartoons. one of your kids looks at him and whispers:

“papa… what’s in area 51?”

he stiffens. visibly. clutches the bowl.

“we… we are not allowed to speak about it,” he says, voice trembling slightly. “they made us sign… papers.”

you: “honey. you can tell them it’s just a base—”

“no,” he says, deadly serious. “they scan your teeth.”

your kid slowly covers their mouth.

later, you find tinfoil hats made out of cereal boxes in their room.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Have you seen the new Quaritch and Spiders footage? I can't wait to see what it's all about! Do you have any thoughts on that? <3

I did! It was weird actually. I tend to stay off of my devices until I’m having breakfast but for some reason I just had to check YouTube not long after I woke up and sure enough Avatar Theory had posted a video on the new images. I actually thought it was an edit with Quaritch’s little hoodie. It’s just so funny to me that they made a bunch of merch for a team that’s down to two. (Unless they have backup clones of the recoms but I doubt that) I wanted to take some time to collect my thoughts and see others takes but I think I’m ready now.

I don’t want to get to in depth over things others have gone over. Yes Spider’s been accepted by the Metkayina from his new look and tattoo. (And good god did they accept him quickly because the wound on his chest doesn’t even look fully healed yet. Hell yeah to the Metkayina for that) Yes Quaritch in his silly little hoodie looks really happy to see him but also yeah he’s probably on his bullshit.

I’m thinking more of where does this fall in the story based off of what we already know. I feel like this is probably pretty early on. We know from script leaks that there’s some kind of oil rig/ sea base that I imagine Quaritch and Wainfleet run to right after the battle at three brothers. If I’m using Spider’s wound as a time marker (which I acknowledge could be a little faulty. Different skin tones scar differently and I only have my own to go off of. My skin either changes texture or turns darker. It never permanently stays red which is why I believe Spider’s wound is still fairly fresh) then I believe it’s only been a few weeks since the battle at three brothers rock. So in that time Quaritch would have regrouped, strategized a raid and then executed it, capturing Spider again and who know’s who else.

But I think this will be short lived when the Ash Clan rocks up

I know this isn’t a still from the movie but look at the background

That’s the cove of the ancestors. For better or (most likely) worse they are showing up on Sea people land. My guess would be that they’re trying to take them over but end up in a fire fight with the R.D.A instead. This would be why Quaritch and Jake decide to team up going off of Stephan Lang’s interview.



We also know at some point Spider is going to be able to breath Pandoran air thanks to Kiri preforming a miracle. I’m on the fence of when this would be in the film. I think it would work in the beginning of the movie, like Spider gets injured in the initial fire fight, is healed by Kiri and this event acts as the catalyst for Quaritch and Jake’s contentious alliance. But also I like the idea of it being in the climax of the film. After a series of backstabbing and manipulation on Quaritch’s part with Spider trying to legitimately turn his father to the good guys side, Spider gets injured in the big final battle. It’s playing out like Neteyam’s death when Kiri saves him. Quaritch would of course be greatfull. But the miracle also adds to the confusion that Slang talks about here:



Maybe it’s because I’m currently rewatching The Venture Bro’s right now (which is my favorite show hands down and has a lot of messy father son relationships in it) But this sounds to me like Quaritch admires Spider for everything Quaritch himself could have been under different circumstances. Because Spider and Quaritch do share personality traits. Willful, stubborn, values loyalty. And Quaritch is proud of Spider for that. He loves his feisty son. But I imagine he’s also jealous of Spider’s heart. Because Spider is actually pretty open with his emotions. He doesn’t try to hide when he’s crying or when he’s scared. He’s at least emotionally attuned to his friends since when he sees he’s made Kiri uncomfortable by making fun of who her dad is, he immediately turns the conversation onto himself to take the unwanted attention. Spider at his heart is kind and empathetic and I can see Quaritch valuing that while also being envious of what he isn’t. And because he dosen’t think he can be like that he might seek to stomp that out of Spider. So after a big emotional back and forth of Spider trying to save his dad and Quaritch trying to corrupt his son out of jealousy, he nearly watches his only son die only to be saved by a god he would never have believed in. I think that would be an interesting place to leave him before getting into Avatar 4.

But also I’ve read script leaks of Jake and Norm talking about Spider being able to breath Pandoran air and how they can never let the R.D.A get him. So maybe the miracle happens in the opening of the film and becomes a big plot point. (Or maybe that script is from Avatar 4?) Maybe Quaritch attacks, ends up hurting his son in the process, Kiri saves him and then a stunned Quaritch snatches Spider up on instinct, not thinking “hey the science devision of the R.D.A might want to dissect my kid for this!” Maybe Jake attacks the base to get Spider back (which is some redemption I’d love to see) and they’re successful because conveniently the Ash Clan attacks at the same time.

We know Quaritch and maybe Lyle too will be captured by the Ash Clan at some point from this image

So maybe in a fun uno reverse. Quaritch capture Spider only to be captured himself by Varang five minutes later. Or Quaritch willingly gives himself up after seeing Varangs forces first hand and goes to make a deal with her that quickly gets out of hand forcing Quaritch to make an alliance with Jake.

So those are my very unorganized thoughts. Honestly at first the only thing I could thinks was:

Quaritch and Spider: Your family member traumatized you? Just traumatize them back.

I don’t call myself dumbass for nothing after all.

I’d love to hear everyone else’s thoughts so please feel free to comment, add on to this post, or message me. 💙

[mar-mar-macbeth]

ANNOUNCEMENT

dear Paris the Musical fans of tumblr,

I am making an animatic‼️

The animatic will be "No turning back" which is Hector's first full song. In the song he's basically hyping up the Trojans as they wake up one random Thursday and see a massive fleet of Greeks showing up at their doorstep to kill them.

I have two points I need answered, specifically by people who have animated before, or people who are fans of animatics ♡w♡

How should I design Hector

How do you think I should make it, specifically on what app/editing platform. Detailed questions below ⤵️

Number one: many of the animatics for EPIC the Musical have the characters drawn to look like their voice actor (except Scylla, for some reason? Can't imagine why...) Should I do this for Hector? If you look at carvings of Hector in pottery, he looks very basic, but thats okay: nobody was giving out art lessons in ancient greece. In some more recent-ish paintings, he is often portrayed as this strong greek guy with a beard, but again kind of basic. Jon English, who wrote Paris the Musical, also voiced Prince Hector. He sadly passed away in 2016, and there are some photos of him, but not a lot for me to reference. I do, however, know that in the seventies he had AWESOME HAIR. SERIOUSLY. Should I make Prince Hector look like a combination of his Homeric description and Jon...? I'd just like to know how I should animate him, what will be entertaining for the animatic lovers?

Number two: I have only ever made one short animatic before, but I refuse to say where you can watch it. It was a ship of my friend's OC's to a cringey song, and I used CAPCUT of all things. (and it's still floating around out there 😭) What would any animators suggest that I use to help me easily edit this animatic? I'd like to be able to add a lot of overlay, and move the overlay around with keyframes. (Please don't say Alight Motion, I'm begging on my knees. I have beef with that app.)

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #18

Bad Buddy ep 10:

Wednesday Club ep 1:

Only Friends ep 5:

Last Twilight ep 6:

The Outing ep 2:

Your Sky ep 1:

for @waitmyturtles 💙

[pumpk-n]

in another life i would’ve been married by now and that’s crazy to think about

[jessythebunny]

🧡 X 💜

Let's change the fandom and have some of smiling critters for a bit 😌✨

[asmoteeth]

*giggles and kicks my feet*

[variationsonacloud]

its been 4 years since i first watched be more chill how has it been that long

[questionable-doctor]

juuust finished this. going to be putting it everywhere i can in the future

[raitrolling]

started adding vivyin to my masterpost pages and i cant believe i forgot nancor has a pet pigeon named cooper and that eichio named his indigobird merry

[creamecream]

Name meanings, band version.

My handwriting is particularly bad this time around, sorry.

Name: Naaz. Meaning: Pride.

Name: Carys. Meaning: Love.

Name: Euna. Meaning: Hunger.

Name: Anasuya. Meaning: Without Spite or Envy.

Name: Raivo. Meaning: Fury.

Name: Alora. Meaning: Dreamer.

Name: Kauri. Meaning: Tree.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #6

A Chance to Love ep 4:

Vice Versa ep 8:

Love in the Air special ep:

The Warp Effect ep 3:

Only Friends ep 1:

Love in Translation ep 6:

Deep Night ep 6:

+ bonus new colour version

Leap Day ep 9:

[shwarmii]

i never realized Viktor was missing from Disenchanted Fashions before (or at least tumblr isnt showing him) and i am having so much fun with that bit of freedom towards his wardrobe jfc

[unpretty]

today was the day we finalized the migration of essential software at work from some old and busted shit that was ready to die at any time, to the new cloud version of the same software that we are no longer responsible for maintaining. which is good because no one was actually maintaining ours. it's just been slowly crufting into unusability for a decade. so anyway they set aside an hour for a teams meeting where they'd walk us through the different interface and how to go through normal processes.

"it's not that big a change," they said. "it's all the same stuff, it just looks a little different," they said.

they did not account for the fact that the primary user of this software is someone who doesn't actually know how it works or what it's doing. they learned how to do their job entirely through rote memorization. they know which buttons they are supposed to press in which order, and that is the full extent of what they know. they also did not account for the fact that this person's processes were learned thirdhand from other people who were not using this software normally to begin with.

it's like. imagine if someone had only ever used tumblr in the app. and you try to get them to use it in a desktop browser, but they cannot figure out how to post. and you go through explaining where the button is and how to format text and add tags, even though you could have sworn it was all the same in the app. but then they're like, "okay, but what's the phone number" and you're like "what" and they're like "the phone number to call to make a post?" and it turns out somehow they still had the ability to post by calling a phone number, and every time they posted on the app they called the post in first and then edited the audio post to transcribe it into text before screenshotting the text for a photo post. and nothing you can say to them will make them understand that none of that is necessary or correct. they shouldn't have even been able to do some of that. they can just type into the post box now, like a civilized person. "okay," they say, "but what is the phone number, though? because when i made my account my friend gave me this checklist and the first thing on it is to call the number."

so anyway we were on that teams call for almost three hours and they still don't have a handle on the new software

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Caleb's non-mc significant other.

Imagine having a good night, everything was perfect, a good night out with your boyfriend. With the two of you spending the weekend after he came back from his mission. You have been waiting for a month now. He was quite the busy person, but it was alright. You knew he loves you very much.

"I have to go." Or so you thought, looking away from the big cinematic screen into your lover. "Why? Did they call you up for a mission?" You spoke quietly, trying not to disturb other people. "It's MC." Oh. "Caleb..." "I know, I'm sorry honey. But something came up and pips need me."

Imagine being numb for a moment, he was staring at you, looking for some sort of confirmation. But you were conflicted. You knew who MC was in his life, that was his best friend, that was his childhood friend, like a little sister to him. Of course you understand were he was coming from, two of them were basically each other anchor for a very long time. At the same time, "Caleb, this is the only time we have together. Can't that wait after the movie?" You asked gently.

Imagine you tried to understand. Really, you tried to understand over and over again. "Please Caleb, just after the movie. Can't we have this moment?" Just us? You want to add but kept your mouth shut. This always happened, and everytime you understand. But just this once, just this once, you are asking for his time to be sole yours, even just for an hour.

Imagine the way you watch him look away, look down into his phone then into his watch. It felt like he was running out of time. "Caleb..." You took a hold of his hand. He held it back, "..please." "what was that?" "Please don't make me chose between you and her." You swore you felt hour heart stop.

Imagine before you could even think, your mouth opens. "Why, because you'll choose her?" It wasn't even a question. Because deep down, you already knew the answer. Before he could even answer, you let go of his hand and and look back from the screen. "It's alright. You should go."

"I'm sorry." You heard him whisper but you did not look at him nor spare a glance. "I'll be right back as soon as I can." Taking a hold of your hand for a moment and giving it a squeeze, he stood up and kiss the crown of your head that you pretended not to care. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Imagine the rest of the movie was a blur, whether it was the heavy feeling on your chest, or the silent tears that was rolling in your cheeks. None the less you felt done, so done. He did not even answer, but his actions tells everything that is needed to be said.

Imagine arriving at your door in the middle of the night, going through your bag as you look for your keys and just as you find them, your phone rang, the name of the caller flashing as your lover. Heh, lover? Can you even call him that? You don't know anymore.

Imagine just staring at the call, then once again, the screen went black. You just look away and press in the key into your door. And you twist and open it, you heard your phone rang once again. But as you push the door open, all you were greeted by a rush of burning flame and a loud boom. Just like that, everything went black.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: part ²? What's that? It is what it is. Hahahehe.

Edit: part 2

[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