#I love that the most valuable thing in one piece is a dream

[oxygenisachoice]

All Blue

[swappermanent]

Life In Retrospect

It started, like most things in my life, with a bit of harmless indulgence. I’d been out on the beach, metal detector in hand, just doing my thing. Call it a classic old guy hobby if you want—I know it sounds like one—but there’s something oddly satisfying about it. You spend your whole life accumulating things, working toward something, and yet, in your later years, you find yourself searching for what’s been left behind.

That’s when I found it. The detector beeped, low and insistent, over something solid buried in the sand. Brushing it off, I uncovered a necklace—a little tarnished but still striking. The pendant was shaped like a bird, wings spread wide, with an intricate design that caught the light just so. It looked old. And valuable, maybe. Not the kind of thing you’d expect to find washed up on a beach in a sleepy town like mine.

Being the curious sort, I took it home and started looking into it. I’m no stranger to the internet, mind you. For an old guy, I know my way around a reverse image search. After a bit of digging, I finally found a match, buried in an obscure corner of the web. Turns out, this wasn’t just any necklace. According to the article, it had magical properties—something about granting the deepest, most hidden wishes. But there was a catch: the wishes had to be subconscious. Wear it, the story claimed, and the wish would find you.

remember chuckling at the idea. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But then I paused, looking at the necklace in my hand, and wondered what exactly my subconscious would want, if it had the chance. Money? I wasn’t exactly rich, but I got by just fine. Love? I’d missed that boat, never found someone to share my life with. Fame? Ha, the idea made me laugh—what would an old man like me even do with fame?

I didn’t expect much from it, but it was an interesting enough piece, and it looked good against a sweater or tucked under a jacket, so I wore it. Weeks went by, and honestly, I forgot about it.

---

One day, I found myself at the gym. It was a bit of a routine for me—not the way it used to be when I was younger, of course, but I kept at it, lifting lighter weights and trying to stay active. This wasn’t just any gym, either; it had a reputation around town. People called it the “gay gym”—not officially, of course, but you could tell. The men here were fit, stylish, and, well, meticulous about their bodies in a way I could only admire from a distance. They looked like they belonged in magazines, and I’ll admit, I liked to let my eyes wander now and then.

Still, I kept to myself. At my age, I wasn’t exactly in the social scene here, and I’d long since learned to stay on the sidelines. I came, did my exercises, enjoyed the view, and went home.

But that day, for the first time, someone came up to me. His name was Mikey, and I’d noticed him before, of course. Hard not to, really. He was exactly the kind of man I might've dreamed of being, if I ever let myself dream about that sort of thing. He was young, muscular, with a powerful, chiseled build that made his plain T-shirts look sculpted onto him. His dark hair was perfectly styled, a casual yet intentional wave falling over his forehead. And that mustache—thick, neatly trimmed, lending him a rugged, almost classic appeal, like he could’ve stepped out of a 1970s action movie. He even wore glasses, tortoiseshell frames that gave him an unexpected touch of charm and sophistication. I'd managed to snap a few photos of him before at the gym when he wasn't looking.

I’d seen him around for months, usually catching glimpses of him bench-pressing absurd weights or chatting with friends, his laughter deep and easy. He looked like the kind of guy who owned his confidence, who walked through life knowing that people admired him. And, hell, I was no exception. I'd spent enough stolen moments sneaking glances at those bulging arms, that thick neck, the way his shoulders seemed to strain the fabric of whatever he wore. Every time, I felt a little flutter inside—a mix of envy and something more primal, something I barely let myself think about.

So imagine my surprise when he came up to me. Even he seemed a little surprised, his brow creasing just slightly like he didn’t quite know what had prompted him to approach. And then, he asked me about my necklace.

“Hey, where’d you get that necklace?” he said, eyes flicking from my face to the pendant hanging over my chest. “It’s… different. Kind of cool.”

I felt a little jolt of something—excitement, nerves, maybe both—at the attention. He wanted to know about my necklace? Of all things? I opened my mouth to respond, and then something strange happened. The words just… flowed. I started telling him all about it—how it had been crafted in some long-ago time by hands that shaped it with care, about the artisan who’d worked on it and how they were renowned for imbuing special powers into their pieces. I talked about the mystical properties, the magic of wishes hidden deep in one’s subconscious, waiting to be drawn out by the wearer.

Thing is, I didn’t know any of that. Not consciously. But as I spoke, it felt like I was reading from some invisible script, like the knowledge was being given to me as I said it out loud.

Mikey listened, his gaze locked onto the pendant, almost entranced. Then, he looked back up at me, that curiosity still burning in his eyes.

“Would you mind if I tried it on?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was almost embarrassed by the question.

Without a second thought, I nodded, slipping the necklace off and handing it over to him. He took it carefully, his fingers brushing mine—warm, rough skin, the kind that spoke of hard work and hours in the gym. He put it on, and I swear, the thing looked like it was made for him. It hung perfectly against his chest, the bird pendant resting right in the middle of that strong, solid frame.

As I watched him, something stirred in me. I felt a warmth spreading through my body, a tingling that started low and radiated outward, like a current of energy. I caught myself glancing down, noticing with a bit of embarrassment that I was half-hard. But I couldn’t help it—the sight of him, my necklace gleaming against his chest, his broad shoulders framed by that perfectly fitted T-shirt, was… well, let’s just say it was doing things to me.

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat and giving him an appreciative once-over, “it suits you. Why don’t you keep it?”

Mikey’s eyebrows lifted, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little unsteady, trying to hide the flush of heat that was working its way up my neck. “Consider it a gift.”

---

That night, I felt warmer than I had in years—almost feverish, but not quite. I thought maybe I was coming down with something; I’d spent enough winters nursing colds to recognize that slight ache, the subtle throbbing behind my eyes. I drank water, tried to stay hydrated, but there was something strange about the feeling. It wasn’t just heat; it was a tingling sensation that seemed to move through my limbs, settling into every muscle and joint.

I told myself it was just exhaustion. Maybe I’d pushed myself too hard at the gym, or maybe the excitement of talking to Mikey had rattled my old bones more than I wanted to admit. Either way, I decided to call it a night, pulling the covers up and letting myself drift off to sleep.

But somewhere in the dead of night, I woke up drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs. My skin felt hot, almost burning, and my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted a mile. I lay there in the dark, trying to orient myself, but nothing felt right. My arms, stretched out beside me, felt heavier, thicker somehow. I pushed up to sit, but even that felt… different.

For a moment, I thought I might be having a stroke or some other senior moment, and the thought made my stomach twist. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to shake off the dizziness, to piece together where I was and what was happening.

But as I sat up and tried to get my bearings, the space around me looked foreign. Strange shadows fell across walls I didn’t recognize. There was a faint streetlight glow filtering through blinds that weren’t mine, casting an odd light over an unfamiliar dresser, scattered clothes, and a large mirror across the room.

Where am I?

I swung my legs out of bed, almost stumbling under my own weight. The muscles in my legs tensed and shifted in a way that felt… powerful, but wrong. Instinctively, I reached for the light switch, my fingers brushing over the unfamiliar nightstand before finding it. The room flooded with light, revealing more alien surroundings. Posters on the wall. Dumbbells in the corner. This wasn’t my bedroom. I didn’t own posters. Or dumbbells.

Disoriented, I took a few steps, bare feet touching cool, unfamiliar carpet, as I wandered toward the bathroom. I had to steady myself on the doorframe—the sheer strength I felt in my grip, in the size of my hand, jolted through me. I flipped on the bathroom light and looked up, squinting against the sudden brightness.

And then I saw him. Mikey.

In the mirror was his face, his body—muscular and tanned, dark hair tousled and falling forward slightly. I could feel my heart hammering in his broad chest, watched his—my—eyes go wide as I touched my face, tracing over a jawline sharper than I’d ever had, rough stubble under my fingers.

“Oh… my god,” I whispered, hearing Mikey’s voice, deep and smooth, coming from my own mouth. The face in the mirror looked just as shocked as I felt, my hands gripping the edges of the sink to steady myself as I took in the sight of every inch of him—of me.

A thrill shot through me, warmth bubbling up from my stomach as I ran my hand over the expanse of his—my—shoulders, over the swell of the chest, down to the ridged abs, and finally feeling up his impressive package. I couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto his—my—face, couldn’t stop the pulse of excitement thrumming through me. Holy hell. This was real. I was Mikey.

And then, with a jolt, I realized something was missing. My hand went up to my neck instinctively, searching for the familiar weight of the necklace, but my fingers brushed only bare skin. No chain. No pendant.

A part of me, somewhere deep down, was concerned—confused and alarmed, really—but right now, looking at the smirking, shirtless, muscular guy in the mirror, the overwhelming feeling was… arousal. I’d never looked like this. I’d never felt like this.

Stay Tuned For Part 2.  

[metranart]

Mikey/Draken/Baji/Mitsuya/Shinichiro x Reader (Shameless Gangbang Tease)

𖦹 Warning tags: Gang members x Reader, smut, rough sex, shameless smut, five x one, glorious orgasms, creampie, cumplay, breeding, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, obsession, possessive behavior, five boyfriends to eat, shameless flirting, unprotected sex, breeding kink, breast feeding kink, deepthroat kink, friends to lovers, blowjobs, hair pulling, scratching, consensual fivesome, boys sickly in love with reader (must of this tags belong to the complete story) -

Your dreams were getting worse every day and you knew when it all started. Somehow, these boys just made you awfully and embarrassingly, nervous.

"Some close friends of my brother are going to start working here with us for a while, (Y/N), is that okey with ya?” 

Shinichiro had asked you with a soft and friendly smile on his lips. "They are all gang members like I was when I was young,” the black-haired scratched nervously at his nape, “but now that everyone is going to university, they maintain the gang more so as not to lose contact with all the members than other thing—I mean… they no longer break the law….”

You shrugged without turning to look at him, focused on finishing screwing the piece together. 

"This is your workshop, Shinichiro; I have no say in that." 

It still makes your cheeks burn to remember how uncomfortable your crotch felt when your boss's warm and strong hand suddenly took you by the face so that you had to look him in the eye.

"But of course you have a say in this, (Y/N)!" 

The eldest Sano gaze shone with so much intention you could swear your heart skip a beat, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the side of your chin, as he was so used to invade your personal space since both had been working together for over three years by now. 

"You are my most valuable employee, you have never taken a day off, you have never been sick, you are never late, you are outstandingly kind and polite to the clients and you always have a smile for me...-" somehow the air entering your lungs wasn’t enough right then, "...that is very valuable to me, and making you comfortable has become one of my priorities." Shinichiro assured you, and you felt like hitting yourself for stuttering when replying.

"I-I don't mind, Shini, really." You did your best to put yourself together quickly, clearing your throat to disguise the gentle pull to free yourself from his greedy grip. "I mean, I already know Mikey and Izana, I get along with both of them just fine,” you reminded him, “I'm sure I'll get along with the rest just as well."

Shinichiro stared at you with that look that indicated he was analyzing you, trying to guess if you were lying to him to please him or if you really didn't mind, after a minute of scrutiny he decided that you were telling the truth.

His smile was almost blinding and the hug he wrapped you in felt even more asphyxiating that it usually did, and although it made you extremely happy to be able to please him in this small thing, how you regretted not having put up more resistance.

You and Mikey's friends started working side by side and you're not sure when it started, but once it did it didn't stop...your dreams became relentless.

At first, it was one dream a week, then one every other day and then daily. Your dreams were innocent and even funny. The next day you came pumped into the workshop to tell them about the comical situation in which you dreamed them. 

Draken and Baji used to be the ones who bothered you the most about it, mocking good-heartedly and making everyone share a healthy laugh that lasted till the end of a hard labored day… but one morning you stopped sharing and even when they noticed it, didn’t say anything about it. 

Sooner, your cute dreams turned to the dark side, or rather, towards the most obscene and lewdest side. Now full of naked bodies and slap of flesh against flesh, you could even hear the sound with your eyes open, as if it were a cacophony that followed you around.

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! — sounded every time your thighs collided with theirs, tangled and stuck in so, so, SO many sexual positions, making you wonder when you acquired so much knowledge of the variety of ways your body could twist while taking cock.

“Ya feeling okay, hun?" Mitsuya had asked you, out of the blue, wearing a worried grimace, as if he had been watching you instead of watching the motorcycle he was fixing, "… your cheeks are awfully red, perhaps you have a fever..." the lilac-haired commented with some concern. 

"It’s not a fever,” Draken was the one who answered him since his large, cool palm had landed on your forehead without your permission, “but she's certainly especially flushed today, maybe you’re overworking yourself, princess?”

The owner of the dragon tattoo wondered using that petname that made you weak on the knees and before you could start searching for an acceptable answer outside of 'my crotch is on fire, I need professional help and I don't mean a psychiatrist', Mikey stole your hand in his and cheekily placed it on top of his cheek.

"Her hand is also hot," the young Sano accused, using your limp palm to caress his face as if it were a soft cloth. 

"Her cheeks have been that color for months now," Baji interjected slowly stepping closer, wiping the grease from his hands before even dare to grace your skin, and even when you thought about dodging his palm which headed straight for your cheek, you couldn’t move. "I think, the one who can best tell us if this is normal is Shinichiro—"

Agreeing on the subject, that for some unknown reason to you was messing up their peace of mind, your boss was called out by the young Sano who didn't care that his older brother was dealing with a client at the time.

“I’m busy,” mouthed the older Sano to his younger version, and Mikey barely had to motion his chin towards you to have Shinichiro apologizing to the client. Shinichiro's features were creased but as soon as he noticed your heated face and tight posture, all scolding evaporated.

"Is it normal for (Y/N)’s face to be that beat-red, Oni-san?" asked Mikey who refused to stop using your hand as a comfort blanket, "I mean, you know her better than us, should we be worried?"

The Elder Sano's attention fell without distraction on you and soon that of the others followed, the anxiety in your head shot like a champagne cork at feeling of their scorching and piercing gazes set on you, and shaking them almost violently away from you, you stated in the least high-pitched voice you could conjure.

"I'm fine! God!" you failed miserable, your voice didn't sound right, "...you all can return to your activities… or-r leave, since it’s past six."

And with that poorly disguised outburst, you turned on your heels, ignoring the worried cries and calls for your attention, took your things and almost ran out of there. Thankfully, it had already been half an hour since the closing time but without a doubt your strange attitude would not pass ignored by that quintet of meddlers. That night your dreams morphed into something offensively, feral.

This time more than one at a time. Draken holding you against the workshop table while took turns with Baji to stuff your pussy— 

“She’s sucking me in-” the tall blonde groaned, it sounded more like a wounded animal than a human, “I can’t get enough of this pussy.” 

The worst of the dreams was that evoked a thirst in you. A doubt that ate you from the inside out: would they stretch you as well as they did in your dreams? Would they synchronize as precisely as your mind accommodated them? Mikey riding your esophagus while his older brother used your tits as the personal loofah of his cock, Draken greedily filling your wet pussy while Baji stuffed your tight ass, and Mitsuya's long fingers tangled in yours as he guided you over his erect cock, milking himself for cum—And worst of all, you loved every damn second of them using you as their concubine, like a whore who couldn’t have enough. 

In your dreams you did the things you wanted to do in real life, in your dreams you weren’t a shy, awkward girl… you spread your legs for Shinichiro's little brother friend’s, letting them use you as their personal cocksleeve, their glorified cumdump…. You hated it and loved it, all at the same time. 

And without realizing it or being able to control it, the wet dreams became more graphic and aggressive. 

You woke up gasping and scratching the sheets, your body bathed in transpiration and other fluids that left your thighs sticky and forced you to take a daily bath. You hated how flashbacks of your unholy dreams played in front of you, every time they said good morning to you in the workshop, or when they asked you for advice about some repair, or when their hands accidentally graced your skin ... it had turned into the most sublime torture, because even though everyone was already an adult and probably sexually active.... they just made you feel like a schoolgirl again. Out of control and ready to burst by a mere touch.

And, were those devilish dreams that soon made you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, forcing you to distance yourself, forcing you to take cold shower before sleep, and even, forcing you to consider the option of quitting your job...

Not even an entire day had passed, when you had Shinichiro ringing the doorbell of your apartment. You opened the door with some strangeness.

“Shini-”

"-I told you to tell me if it bothered you to work among gang members, (Y/N)," Shinichiro began without even letting you explain why you hadn't gone to work, "...or is it that I'm not a good boss anymore?" He wondered, half-worried, half-offended.

"Did I disrespect you without realizing it—because if that's the case, I’m SO sorry, it wasn't my intention…" the black-haired man's ramblings were so fast and desperate that you had a hard time finding a space to talk, "... I know you-I thought we were friends, that is to say—I consider you my friend, one of my best friends, I even told you how preciousyou are to-to… to my shop-p...” he didn’t mean to say shop but became a coward when all he could think about was not losing you, “and I'm sure that the others thing the same-"

The tips of your fingers resting on his lips was what finally made his voice fade away. 

“—Why is your first assumption that I quit my job?”

Without a doubt, you were astonished by how well this man in front could read you.

Shinichiro sighed tightly against your fingertips, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, forcing you to lower your hand and involuntarily take one step away, almost as if his mere presence burned you.

It didn’t pass unnoticed, making him sigh again.

"...As I said, I know you well and although most of the time I seem distracted, I have noticed that you look…. shaken."

You stood quiet, trying to convey to him confidence but failing miserably since your fidgeting hands were proof enough and if he needed more evidence, your foot rapidly tapping against the floor was there to support his statement.

“…… Shaken?” You repeated, trying to make sense of the word. Well, you were shaken but maybe not in the way he thought.

"I'm fine, it doesn't bother me in the least to work among gang members and yes! I also consider you one of my best friends-"

"Then why do you want to leave?" Shinichiro asked without being able to contain himself, ".... I’m really trying here, (Y/N). We're ALL trying hard in the workshop," he said without thinking, "everyone has their own internal fight to not disrespect you, not to cross that thin line," he continued without realizing that his tongue may be revealing secrets that were not his to share, "... you have no idea how difficult it is for us as well. If I told you what I have heard, what I have been told...—" he continued and suddenly you noticed that it wasn't his words that came out of his mouth:

"I feel like I'm on fire, brother" Mikey..., "my mind no longer belongs to me, boss..." Baji..., "you should force us to wear uniforms, those skirts are going to make me cross-eyed," Draken..., "is it perfume or it’s her natural scent? Cause is drivin’ me insane either way," Mitsuya...

"-God! You're so gullible," Shinichiro growled sternly before ruffling his hair between his hands violently, "...just-just…. Just don't leave us, okey? —we'd go crazy." Your boss admitted shame forgotten. 

“The city of Tokyo can’t stand five heartbroken gang members, there would be anarchy..." The eldest Sano joked to lower the tension, to try to save his loose tongue. 

He knew… he had fucked up. He said it all, he couldn't contain himself, he felt it was the only way to keep you, even if he only had one a fifth of you, he accepted it, he would covet that fifth... it would be enough, and suddenly, his huge, deep black eyes pierced your very soul with such seriousness that you almost didn't recognize him.

"-So, what do you think?" He asked and somehow you sensed that wasn't referring to work.

You raised an eyebrow and your mouth prepare to part, but he interrupted you again, "-It's what you think... I'm not talking about work anymore." 

Shinichiro Sano confirmed, and the oxygen got stuck in your chest. Were you hearing correctly or was this another one of your wet dreams?! because without a doubt Shinichiro had not only declared his feelings to you but also those of four other, extremely close people...

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I know it's sudden but-..." he gathered his courage, "these guys are not only Mikey's family- they are also mine... and none of them could stand to see the other destroyed, so-..."

You waited for him to finish because you still couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"So, we got together to talk, and many truths were told... and we all agreed..." Shinichiro nodded his head, "we wouldn't even feel jealous, I mean, I don't know how this could work but... we just know it can work," he suddenly stopped his speech to scratch his head uncomfortably, "...am I making myself clear or am I just looking like an idiot?"

You grimaced lightly, and he tensed. 

"You're making yourself look like an idiot..." you said after a long silence, that without realizing it was consuming Shinichiro’s mental sanity, ".... but the answer is... yes."

He blinked a few times, and his lips mouthed ‘yes’ without sound, he shook his head and this time he did find his voice. "...Are you sure? We don't want you to feel uncomfortable-"

"I don't feel uncomfortable."

He nodded, and just to prove a point to himself, he dared to do what had wanted to do for almost three years. So, slowly searching your hand with his, those long, elegant fingers played with yours for a moment before tangling like a vine around a trunk.

".... I’m just gonna-” he gulped, “… just don’t move, ‘key?"

Your cheeks heated up and without knowing why you were sharing this uncanny telepathy- you already knew what he wanted. You stood still as ordered, and without wasting a single second he leant towards you without letting go of your hand, his nose bumped yours first and there he waited, giving you one last chance to change your mind….. time's up... feeding time.

His mouth pressed to yours and your heart fluttered inside your chest like a thousand butterflies, his lips were soft but firm in their advance, a clash of nerve endings like fuses lighting up to be consumed by desire and lust accumulated by three years of abstinence. His kiss felt like cold water in an arid desert, his tongue briefly asked for permission and as soon as he got it, danced its way inside like a snake sliding into a rabbit hole, devouring and feeding, leaving only destruction in its wake. 

Panting and overwhelmed, you stared at each other for a long minute. Your knees shook, and Shinichiro had the quickness of mind to wrap his arm around your waist before you fell.

"God! Three years, (Y/N). You're a sadist." He chuckled against your feeble lips, pecking your heaving mouth as if he couldn’t stand to stay away from you for even a second, it warmed your heart, and both stayed there enjoying the closeness.

".... When?" You were the first to speak.

He grinned, mischievously.

“Are you free tomorrow?” He scoffed, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I work at the store tomorrow," you teased, and his smile turned wolfish. "That boss of yours is an ass." 

You agreed and he burst out laughing. "But seriously, Tomorrow is a good day to start."

“…. Start?”

He quirked a raven eyebrow. “Sure, get used to each other, and that kind of stuff. You didn't think we were a bunch of brutes, did you?” you shrugged embarrassed being caught and he snickered, “well, I’m a little offended..." he deadpanned, pretending to be hurt yet that sinful smirk gave him away, "...we want to spoil you first and then,” he held your stare, “then… we’ll stuff you good and eat you for Christmas."

That smirk on his face should have been warning enough....

READ THE WHOLE (8000 word) GANGBANG WITH FEELINGS IN MY PATREON (here you will also find NSFW art of this story) .... Plus, more stories of tokyo revengers and other anime, each with a NSFW illustration from a scene of the story, PLUS! 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for future stories, couple pairing selection for the stories and artworks, exclusive smut fanfiction and animation like THIS ONE and my eternal gratitude for your support!!!

[strangelittlestories]

There’s a larp (live action roleplaying) game that I play, where there exists a creature we have dubbed a ‘Chronovore’.

This planet-sized sci-fi beastie eats time via a cool-ass external digestive system that ranges out from its main corpus (what are effectively its digestive enzymes look like glowing blue-winged angels, which are creepy as sin).

My character in this game fell victim to said chronovoric digestion and was aged 30 years by the experience. They lost what they expected to be the most valuable years of their life - the time when they expected to most make a difference to the universe.

I have a lot of emotions about this. Especially because when I look at my life aged 39 and consider the shape I am trying to hammer it into, one thought keeps recurring: I wish I had started this work sooner.

And then I consider my ADHD (a condition I am really certain I have, but am still seeking diagnosis for) and damn if I do not feel like it straight up ate decades of my life.

That’s how it feels, gang. There’s this bubbling resentful rage and grief for years spent with an invisible wall between me and what I wanted. For the nights where I spent (and still spend) revenge procrastinating and wrecking my days. For all the hours chasing short-term dopamine that was often destructive for me.

Hours. Days. Years. Eaten by a part of me that often feels like a monster squatting in my brain, hiding in my bones.

It reminds me, too, of that scene from a Hammer Horror movie where a monster expert is talking about vampires and says something like “Oh, you still think vamps are just things with big teeth that gotta bite your neck and drink your blood? Sweet baby, there’s all kinds of these creatures; some of them just fully suck your life straight out of your soul.”

This is why I don’t think I’ll ever think of my ADHD as a superpower. Or, at least, if it is: it’s from one of those gritty think piece superhero stories where your power is also a hecking curse.

I am preoccupied by what my own brain has taken from me.

And the thing is: it’s not really true. At least, not all the way true.

Those years I think of as lost were filled with good times. I made meaningful connections. I wrote poems and stories that I love. I performed art that meant something to me in front of people who enjoyed it. I consumed a lot of good media. I learned and dreamed and tried really hard to be a person I could be happy being.

But I also let a lot of the things fall into the background. I started a lot, but didn’t finish a lot. I missed the chance to work on skills that are now harder to learn because I’m older.

So I find myself cursing the Chronovore.

I nearly wrote this as a piece of fiction. If I had, I would probably have ended with the protagonist finding a way to subvert or redeem or work with the Chronovore.

Maybe the satisfying ending just this: none of us get as much time as we want. We all give time away - whether it be taxed by things we resent or gifted to what is important.

The Chronovore is not special.

And if it is not special, then it is mutable.

Maybe that is enough.

[buckets-and-trees]

As one of the Christmas presents, your Alpha promises to fulfill one of your fantasies, or introduce you to a kink you secretly wanted to try. What is it and how he's going about it? Does he surprise you with it? Or did you plan to make a special night of it?

Okay, not an alpha, but...

well...

I couldn't get this idea out of my head...

Title: Make Her Glow Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 986

Content Warnings: bondage, established coerced marriage, breeding kink

Logistical Notes: I think technically this is ... going to be a collection now. Sequel to I'm Your Man and a moment from their honeymoon. I just can't resist this Andy (and neither can you, dear reader).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The domestic elements were incredibly important to Andy. He knew they were vital to building a happy, long-lasting relationship between husband and wife, and he wanted nothing less than that for both of you. Putting up the Christmas tree had been something he’d insisted on doing together, just the two of you, the day after Thanksgiving.

He’d driven the pair of you to the nicest tree lot, walked around holding your hand until he knew the two of you had found a tree you truly liked, then paid to have it delivered to your home after lunch. He had you direct the delivery men to put it exactly where you wanted it. He had helped you string it with lights, then decorate with garland and ornaments. You were still guarded – he had broken down many, but not all, of your walls, but it had been a good day.

But by far the most valuable thing from putting up the tree together had been the lights. He saw sheer, unadulterated delight shine through your eyes the first time they lit up. It was the passion he’d seen on your face so frequently during the first weeks he knew you – it’s what made him know he had to have you, and he loved seeing it again.

Each night, you had very easily let him hold you on the couch, all the other lights off, and sit together in the glow from the white lights of the tree. He had pulled so much more out of you each of those nights – memories, wants, dreams, worries.

He always knew you would work.

He knew you knew the two of your would work.

The soft glow of those lights had made you impossibly softer and warmer to him, and he fucking loved it.

But he hadn’t exploited that knowledge until tonight.

Having finally sent all the house guests home, you were turning off all the lights, and about to collapse onto the couch, but he intercepted you a step away from your destination, and tugged you gently upstairs. You knew not to fight him.

He knows you don’t want to fight him; you’re only holding onto small pieces of resisting him because he’s slowly been disarming every last piece of you, making you more and more vulnerable to becoming completely swept away by him.

He closes the bedroom door and then leads you to the bed. He slowly unzips your simple but beautiful party dress from behind, and you shrug it down your shoulders. He presses a kiss between your shoulder blades, and you can’t suppress a shiver. Then he unclasps your bra, and you let that fall to the floor, too. He slides a finger into the waistband of your lacey underwear on either side of your hips and pulls them gently down. You step out of them without direction.

He spanks you, just once, but it elicits the short, gasping moan he loves to draw from you.

“Up on the bed now,” he instructs.

“Yes, Andy,” your voice is soft, and you crawl up obediently.

“On your back in the middle of the mattress.”

As you move into place, you watch him, and he reaches for a box he left under the bed a few hours earlier.

Andy places the box on the bedside table, and first pulls out a thick, forest green satin ribbon.

He climbs up on the bed next to you. “Hold up your hands, wrists together for me.”

Despite everything else up to this point, he’s never physically bound you before.

Although he can see the evidence of your breathing speed up with the rise and fall of your chest, he’s incredibly pleased that you do exactly as he says, surrendering without a fuss. He wraps the ribbon around your wrists and forearms, then strokes your cheek. “Such a good girl for me.”

He moves back to the box, pulls out one end of the string, plugs it into the socket, and you gasp as a full string of white lights comes to life. Andy smiles and turns off the rest of the lights in the room.

Ten minutes later when he’s wrapped the lights around your arms – right over where the ribbons were first placed because he did want to protect your precious skin from being uncomfortable – and then bound you up to the headboard, where he strung the rest of the lights back and forth between the bedposts, and emerges naked from the large master closet, he fully appreciates the warm glow of the lights just as you have the lights from the tree. He more than gets it now.

Joining you once more on the bed, he runs his hands up your thighs, then guides them open and kneels between them.

“You’re so pretty like this, wife.”

You’re wet for him. Waiting for him.

“You want one more Christmas gift?” he asks, his eyes moving up your body to meet your eyes.

You let out a small, whimpered, “Yes,” and he smiles again. “Please,” you add.

“And I think it’s time we start really working on one more gift for me,” he says. He moves one hand to your hip and places the other solidly over your womb. “I’m done waiting to see you growing with my child, and it’s too perfect that you’re ovulating.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens just a little.

He smirks. “You think I really wouldn’t know something like that? Well, if you’re going to act dumb, I’ll just oblige and fuck you dumb. But, goddamn, you should know how perfect and beautiful you look for me just like this. Glowing under these lights? Perfection."

He leans down to kiss you. His lips move against yours, easily, he licks into your mouth, and you moan. He doesn't relent until you're breathless, and arching up beneath him.

"Now let’s make it so you glow for another reason.”

I make no apologies for this.

I'm Your Man Collection Masterlist ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[xveenusx]

Hate

Paring(s): Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Two people hate how much they love each other

Authors note: get ready for some filty smut and toxic relationship Rafe

Rating: smut, 18+, mdni

Warnings: explicit mature themes, choking, spitting, hitting, dirty talk, etc.

Part 2: Love

_________________

“Oh I hate that man. I hate that man. But oh, cara Mia, how I love him.”

This can’t be happening.

Was the mantra that played in my head on a constant loop as I stared at the red dress that hung neatly in the closet.

Pougelandia seemed like a dream at this point. A beautiful dream that’s been shattered by the ever waking nightmare I’m currently in.

My heart lurched in my chest as I thought about my friends. I should have listened when John B and Pope told me to leave the pilot but I couldn’t. I couldn’t let that be another thing that happened to me.

Reaching my hand out, I let my fingers graze the fabric of the dress. It slipped through my fingers easily, the fabric clearly being the most expensive thing I’ve ever worn.

A shudder ran through me as I tugged the dress off the hanger and slipped it on. Pushing the hair out of my face, I let out a shaky breath and forced myself out of the room.

I wiped my hands nervously on the gorgeous ruby dress, swallowing down the hysterical need to cry.

My eyes danced along the gorgeous house that was my prison. Wood stained columns decorated each room with what I assumed were valuable artifacts on display. The wooden arch entry way had stained glass windows that caused hundreds of colored reflections to sparkle along each and every room.

Sliding my hand along the wooden railing on the stairs, I slowly made my descent, hoping that the knocking of my knees wasn’t noticeable. A maid greeted me at the bottom of the stairs, her smile soft as she held out her hand in the direction she wanted me to go.

“This way, miss.”

I tried to send a smile back but I’m sure it came off as more of a grimace.

“Would you like a drink?” She asked, stopping at a small bar cart to the right of an open door.

“Yes, thank you.” I cleared out, stumbling over my words.

I needed several drinks just to get through this.

The maid said nothing and simply placed a glass tumbler in my hand filled with dark liquor. I brought it to my lips and took a huge gulp, relishing in the burning sensation that wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

It seemed to take the edge off and made the next few steps easier.

She motions for me to enter the room beside the bar cart and so I do, my fingers tightening on the glass.

Stepping in, I hovered by the door, taking in the room in front of me, and saw no one. Taking another drink from my glass, I shuffled further in at the sound of movement coming from the other side that was obstructed by the door.

A towering figure stood on the other side of the room, his back facing me as he made himself a drink.

My stomach tightened for some reason.

I took stock of just how well dressed this man was. His navy blue suit seemed to be tailored to fit his tall build and reeked of wealth. He was at least six foot and had an air of superiority around him. His presence almost seemed overpowering simply due to his height.

Tingles shot up my spine as something felt familiar about him.

Only one person has ever made me feel this way.

Pushing back the thought, I cleared my throat. “Um, excuse me?”

The figure turns around and our eyes connect instantly causing all air to leave my body.

His ice blue eyes widen for a fraction of a second before settling on my face. A soul penetrating stare that shook me to the core.

My grip on the glass loosened causing it to fall and shatter into thousands of pieces. Similar to how he left my heart.

Rafe Cameron.

He looked the same yet different. The eyes that I used to stare in night after night were intense and brilliant. They held hope for the future and were ironically innocent.

The man in front of me was different. His gaze had now hardened as though he experienced something dark. Those Arctic blue orbs were enigmatic and cold, no sign of innocence or hope.

The dark dirty blonde strands I once threaded my fingers in as an anchor while he kneeled in between my legs and drove me to ecstasy were gone. His hair was nearly buzzed down to the scalp giving him the appearance of a hard and refined grown man.

The once party hungry frat boy was gone, replaced by something much darker. Much colder.

The air around us was electrifying, almost to the point of suffocation.

Rafe stared down at me, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine, not one word being said.

But I knew exactly what he was thinking, because I was thinking it too.

Memory after memory played in my head causing my cheeks to turn hot. Him taking me on the counter with my legs thrown over his shoulder. Me bent over his bike as he ruthlessly pounds into me from behind, my long hair wrapped around his hand. Rafe pinning me down by the throat as he fucks me savagely on the top deck of the yacht.

I was practically vibrating at this point, a flash of heat hitting my center, throbbing and aching for relief.

I dragged my eyes away, needing to break the connection, ignoring the familiar rush of those intoxicatingly intense feelings that always came attached to Rafe Cameron.

A gold glint catches my eyes and for the second time today, I’m rendered motionless. Speechless.

On his wrist, familiar gold cuff links decorated the sleeved cuff on his shirt.

One’s that had my initials.

I couldn’t hide the pained look I knew painted my face. Of course, he would be behind this. There was no line he wouldn’t cross in order to get what he wanted.

I learned that the hard way. The only thing that mattered to Rafe was the gold and the approval of his psychotic father. That fact was just as painful to swallow as the first time.

Months later and he still managed to thoroughly destroy whatever pieces of me exist.

I hate this man. I hate this man.

My feet moved on their own accord stopping only when we’re less than a foot apart.

My hands clenched into fists and something inside of me snapped. Slamming them down on his chest, I let out a shout and shoved him as hard as I could.

I barreled into Rafe again, my hands hitting his chest as hard as I can but he doesn’t move an inch. His tall frame remained in place no matter how hard I tried to shove and hit him.

Frustrated, angry tears gathered in my eyes as I let out a distressed noise. “I knew you and Ward were behind this shit.”

Something flickered in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly and was replaced by a cold dark look.

“Be fucking serious. Are you trying to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s going on?” He spat, his eyes narrowed as he bent down to my height until his face filled my vision.

An empty laugh escaped my lips as I shook my head at him with disgust,” Yes, I decided to fly to Barbados to come and ruin your deal because the entire world revolves around you.”

Rafe let out a harsh breath that made me close my eyes tightly. His entire smell engulfed my senses.

Peppermint, apples and expensive cologne whirl through my nose as my defective and traitorous heart pounds loudly in my chest.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” A voice from the connected room mused.

At the sight of an unfamiliar figure, Rafe moved in front of me quickly blocking my view of the man. He made a noise and tucked me behind him.

Butterflies erupt at the move, pounding away at the wall I built around my heart. I peaked under his arm and saw a short man in a suit. His olive tone skin complementing his dark hair and groomed beard that decorated his face.

“Who are you?” Rafe asked, his stance never wavering.

I dug my nails into his suit jacket as I waited for a response.

“My name is Carlos Singh. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He answered, buttoning the front of his jacket.

“I apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here. Please come, I don’t bite.” Singh gestured to the seating area, an insincere smile on his face.

Stepping around Rafe, I cautiously look around the room before turning my gaze to him.

He subtly shook his head but I chose to ignore it and settle myself on the couch.

He didn’t get to tell me what to do.

Rafe’s eyes darkend as he muttered something harshly under his breath. Rubbing his head, he moves to where I sat angling his body slightly in between Singh and I.

“Rough tactics? What about me?”

“Ah, yes Mr. Cameron. False pretenses.”

Singh goes on a tangent describing some sort of treasure that I have no interest in and by the blank look on Rafe’s face I can see he feels the same.

“I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much longer you gonna keep philosophizing?”

His words were oozing with boredom as he took a seat next to me. The warmth of his body near me made me jolt.

Clearing my throat, I stood up and took a seat in a single chair, ignoring the chuckle from Singh and the glare from Rafe.

“You’re rather direct, aren’t you Mr. Cameron?” The look on Singh’s face was threatening.

My stomach dipped with nerves at the unspoken threat in his words. I opened my mouth, hoping to distract Singh,” What do you want with me and my friends?”

“There’s a diary. The diary of Denmark Tanny. It leads to the cross of Santa Domingo and since you and your friends had the cross, you must have the diary.”

That’s what this was about?

I could already see the question in Rafe’s eyes as he zeroed in on my face. I kept my face blank, knowing despite my desire to, I couldn't tell him anything.

Tearing my gaze away from his, I told Singh,” We don’t have the diary. I dont know where it is.”

Rafe’s face hardened. His jaw clenched in anger as he looked away from me. It was unsettling.

Singh was clearly displeased as he called out for guards, tsking under his breath. Two armed guards come into the room and stall in my direction making me fumble backwards.

Rafe shielded me immediately holding up his hand,” Don’t touch her. We’re cooperating.”

The men gesture the desired direction with their guns causing Rafe’s hand to tighten its grip on mine. Singh follows closely behind clicking his tongue against his teeth.

We’re forced into a bedroom. A bedroom only sporting one bed.

No. No. No.

“Please enjoy your stay. I suggest you convince her to tell you where the diary is. You should know that I am not so forgiving nor am I patient.”

The click of a lock had me turning around in panic. Rafe moved instantly, tugging the handle harshly but it didn’t give. He hit the door in frustration letting out a curse.

I was wrong. This was the worse thing to ever happen. Rafe and I being locked together, in a room, alone.

“Try again.” I demanded, my voice raising in hysteria.

“I already did. It’s locked from the outside.”

Pushing him out of the way, I called out while banging on the door. My grip tightly on the handle as I tried to pull it open.

My calls came unanswered. Despair filled every cell in body as I took in the reality of the situation. Resting my head on the cool surface of the door, I breathed in deeply willing myself to calm down.

Warmth appeared behind me. “Are you okay-“

I pushed myself off the door and walked around him, ignoring his words entirely. I could do this. My friends will be here soon and I just had to last until then.

I couldn’t let Rafe Cameron break me for the fourth time. Not when I’ve finally glued all the pieces back together.

At the sound of a vehicle approaching and shouts of terror, I moved to the window pulling the curtains back. Rafe appeared next to me as we both peered outside through the glass.

One man in a beige bullet proof vest is dragging a man against his will while another strapped with a gun followed close behind.

“Who the hell is that guy?”

Recognition filled me as I stare at the guy being dragged away. “I know him. It’s Jimmy Portis.”

At my words, Rafe’s face turned to mine. I could feel him staring at me, wanting to know more but I couldn’t pull away from the scene in front of me.

“He was trying to help us.”

Seconds later, Singh appeared with a smug smile and a wave. Reaching behind his waist, he pulled out a gun.

My fingers tightened on the curtain.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe said, his palm landing on my stomach and pushed me back gently, away from the window.

“Rafe-“ My words are cut off.

“No.” His tone left no room for negotiation as he placed himself in front of me, as though he was attempting to shield me from what happened next.

A gun shot goes off.

A shriek passes my lips as I bring my shaky hands to my mouth. Rafe didn’t even flinch. Instead, he licked his lips and turned to me.

“This diary. Hey, no bullshit,” He warns, “Dont bullshit me, Okay? Do you have it?”

His dark eyes searched mine and I fought the urge to give in. He was like a tsunami that constantly threatened to drag me under. Every sense filled with him.

I used to give him everything. Until, he couldn’t do that same. I knew, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth.

“No.”

“Your lying.” Yes.

“Let’s both stop pretending that you know everything about me.” I deflected, as I pushed him away from me.

Distance, I repeated in my head. Get some distance.

“Baby, we both know I do. The only one pretending here is you,” his lips widened in a harsh smile, one that threatened to eat me alive, “Now, tell me about the diary.”

“We don’t have it. Do I have to add deaf to the list along with psychotic and delusional?”

Rafe takes a threatening step forward causing me to take a step back. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that we don’t have it.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your lying right now. You want to know how I know?”

Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, Rafe steps in front of me swarming me from all sides. “You pick at the skin on your nails.”

Closing my eyes briefly, my stomach sinks because he was right.

I hated it him. I hated how he knew every little thing about me. I hated how he weaponized my reaction towards him again and again.

“Step. Back.”

“No, your useless friends put you in this situation. I’m trying to get us out. Where’s the diary?”

At the mention of my friends, a fire of anger ignited inside me. “Don’t talk about them like that. At least, I have them. Who do you have? Barry?”

“Have them? Where were they when you got taken? Look where we fucking are.”

“They didn’t have a choice. It was my fault anyway.”

“Why are you defending them?” Rafe asked me, staring at me with such exasperation. “Because of them, you’ve been in so much shit. Look where you are right now. They’re low lives. Stop being delusional.“

“And what,” My voice shook with anger, “be with you instead? You think your such an upgrade? Last time I checked you’re a frat boy with a coke addiction riddled with daddy issues. How could you be any better than them?”

I hated the person he turned me into. I never liked hurting anyone and here I was hurling every insult I could at him. I was consumed with the need to hurt him just as bad as he hurt me.

“Is this some knew kind of foreplay? Because, if it is, it’s working.”

“That’s what you got from that?”

He sends me a bored look. “What else could it mean?”

“Um, exactly what I said.”

“I don’t get it.” Rafe had the audacity to actually look confused.

“You’re crazy. You have to be.”

He nodded his head like this mad perfect sense. “Well, yeah. For you. I thought I made that clear.”

“When? You were too busy lying to me.”

“This again?”

“Just sit down and shut up.” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re already giving me a migraine.”

“I knew I still had an effect on you.”

“Not a good one.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Ignoring his pretty words and charm was the only way I could survive this.

“Rafe, just stay on the side of the room and I’ll stay on mine. My friends are going to come so until then just keep to your damn side.”

He clenched and unclenched his hands as he regarded me. “And if they don’t come?”

“They will.” God, I hope so.

“So much faith in them.” Rafe said quietly, shaking his head in my direction before looking away. “Where’s your faith in me?”

“Gone. Kind of like your soul.”

I felt my pulse in my throat. His eyes turned brutal as he slowly traced his thumb along his bottom lip, almost assessing what he was going to do next.

He looked like he was going to eat me alive.

The ache in between my legs ignited again, the pulse almost unbearable.

“I can protect you.”

“Protect me? All you’ve ever done is hurt me.”

Rafe stared at me with humor as his eyebrows raised expectantly, “The only time I ever hurt you, is when you asked for it.”

Heat flashed into my cheeks. Flashbacks of my pleas for him to choke me and punish me hit me like a truck.

A frustrated noise left my lips as I grabbed a book from the dresser and threw it in his direction. “I hate you.”

No I don’t.

The humor left his blue eyes instantly as he clenched his jaw. “Watch it.”

“No. You think you can protect me?” I asked incredulously, my hands finding a remote next and I throw it at his head. “We’re in the same fucking room, Rafe.”

He side stepped the remote I threw at him easily, shaking his head. He begins to unbutton his suit jacket, his piercing blue eyes brewing a storm.

“I -“ I was momentarily distracted by him removing clothes. “Stop taking off your clothes.”

“You don’t hate me.”

He was insane. That’s what he chose to focus on?

“I do. I hate you. How many times do I have to say it for you to get it through your thick skull?”

The tension between us was stifling almost as thought there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.

“Stop fucking saying that.” Rafe barked, his words rough dropping with a warning.

He undid his cuff links slowly, almost threateningly, like it was a count down for what’s to come.

My eyes narrowed at his threat. Anger and lust consumed me as I tried to fight off the urge to kiss him. Resentment wrapped around my throat.

He takes a step forward.

“Or what?” Gulping, I took a step back. My eyes looking around for something else to throw at his gorgeous face. “Are you gonna tell me you love me? And you think I’ll believe you?”

“I never lied about that.” His tone was almost condescending as he took another steps towards me.

My heart dipped as my blood ran hot and cold. Indecision filled me. This is what he does. He surrounded me, confused me, cornered me until all I could see was him.

“Stop trying to confuse me.” Another step back.

The way he looked at me sucked all the air out of my lungs. His eyes regarded me with such desire it burned me alive. I couldn’t look away.

“You know me. Look at me and tell me I’m lying.” Rafe’s words demanding yet soft.

Blue. His eyes fucking haunted me. I felt myself slowly giving way to the enigma that was Rafe Cameron.

Forcing my eyes away, I spotted a clock on the nightstand by the bed. I reached for it just as he moved towards me.

I pegged it at him. We both watched as the clock hit his chest with a thud and fell onto the floor with a plop.

“I know you enough to know that what you say doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he wanted to kiss me or strangle me. Probably the latter since he was a psychopath.

“This monologue is getting a bit repetitive, don’t you think?”

My gut twisted. “I hate you.”

I did sound like a broken record, but it was the only phrase that seemed to get a reaction out of him.

It was the only weapon I had as every other resolve I had was slowly deteriorating before me.

“Watch your mouth,” Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Don’t say it again.”

A distressed breathe left my lips. I wasn’t winning this deadly game of tug of war.

“Why?” I wanted to break him. I wanted him us to have matching scars. His soul didn’t get to be left unscathed while mine was covered in wounds that didn’t heal.

He was closing in on me at this point. His sleeves now rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons undone revealing the gold necklace I gave him.

Why was he doing this to me?

My fingers grasp the decorative pillow from the bed as I target his head. “Because you know it’s true. At least the people in my life love me. They didn’t pretend to love me to find the gold. They didn’t leave me repeatedly.”

Slapping the pillow out of the way, he stood two feet away from me. “Leave you? You left me.” The words held no emotion, just cold hard facts.

I bring my hand to the side of my face as I shake my head at him in disbelief.

“You chose the gold. Not once, not twice, but three fucking times. You chose to lie to me. Again and again. So I may have left, but the minute you chose the gold over me was the moment you decided I was worth losing.”

I remember the last time I saw him clear as day. The cross was being pulled up by Pope on the crane when I saw a figure with a gun take off running in his direction.

My whole body froze as I took in the person behind the gun. We both regarded each other with shock. I felt my heart break for a second time as I realized how he got the cross.

His guilt ridden eyes stared at me as I realized just how stupid I had been. I begged him to come with us. To leave the cross that was about to fall off the boat and come with me. Tears were streaming down my face as I screamed for him to leave.

To finally choose me. To love me the way I loved him.

It felt like hours when he finally made his decision. And, it wasn’t me. Rafe took off running towards the chain that was tied to the cross as he screamed for help from the crew.

My heart broke for the third and final time. I don’t think I could survive a fourth.

A touch to my face pulled me out of the painful memory. Rafe’s in front of me now, towering above my dainty figure, his fingers grazing my cheek.

“Can you please just let me explain?”

Jerking back, I slapped his hand away from my face.

His eyes flashed,”What? Now I can’t even touch you.”

“I loved you.” I whispered the words causing him to tense. “But, I’m done. I’m so completely and utterly done with you.”

Anger radiated off him in waves and the sudden urge to step back overcame me. Only, when I did the back of my thighs hit the bed.

He’d cornered me into the direction of the bed.

“Loved?” He murmured, almost to himself.

Rafe runs his hand across his jaw, analyzing me slowly. Seeming to have made up his mind, he envelops my very space with his hand threading itself tightly within the roots of my hair at the nape of my neck.

Bending down to my height, his breath fans along my lips causing heat to surge through out my body. He was addictive.

“Just to be crystal fucking clear. You won’t ever be over me. This will never be over.”

Dread sat in my stomach like lead at the truth in his words. He knew it, I knew it. .

My eyes burned. My heart ached. All I knew, in that very moment, was I hated how much I loved him.

He was inevitable. The way we consumed each other was nothing short of catastrophic. We shined too bright that we burned each other.

“Don’t do this to me. Don’t you dare do this to me again.” I pleaded tearfully, begging for him to show an ounce of mercy.

Holding on to us was cruel. Rafe wasn’t going to change for me. He loved in his own way, but it was brutal, obsessive and mad. It was also intoxicating, intense, and painfully beautiful. It was too much.

I used to think I could handle it, because being with him was the only thing that made sense. He made me feel the sweetest high that sent me into a euphoric oblivion.

I thought my love was enough for him. Call me naive, but I wholeheartedly believed that I could help those broken parts of him heal. But Rafe was too broken. All the pieces of him I tried to carry in my arms only cut me in the process as I slowly bled out.

He had taken every piece of me with him. It was hard to tell where I ended and he began.

“Why are you wearing that necklace?” I asked him, the backs of my eyes burning. I needed him to say it. I needed him to tell me and actually mean it.

Rafe shook his head, his blue eyes were soul-wrenching. “You know why.”

My hands trembled as they connect with his shirt, griping the crisp material in desperation.

“Why are you wearing those cuff links?”

Why couldn’t he just say it?

When he didn’t respond to me, I felt the last bit of glue give way and my heart got devoured by grief.

I let go of his shirt. “You’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward.”

His eyes flickered with hurt but I didn’t care. Blind rage filled me and I pushed him. When he didn’t react, I did it again and again screaming out every morsel of pain that threatened to kill me.

It only lasted seconds. Rafe had enough and quickly caught both my wrists in his hands. His face was cruelly beautiful.

It mocked me.

“Calm down.” He ordered, his face a mask of cruel indifference. But, I knew him.

His eyes were filled with cold fury and by the slightly tremble from his body, I knew he was close to losing control.

“I fucking hate you.” I spat the words out vehemently. I watched as the words hit him square in the chest.

He sent me a wolffish grin. “I warned you.”

Rafe shoves me onto the bed trying to pin my squirming body down but I refuse to comply. I try to leverage my legs to buck his heavy body off of me but he only smacks my thigh causing me to suck in a breath.

“Let me go.” The heat of his body seared into me. He smelled like sin and regret.

“Stop fucking fighting me,” Rafe responded with a grunt.

I could feel light coat of sweat start to cover my body, the silk of the dress rubbed against my skin only making the throbbing worse. I kicked my leg out but my dress only slipped further up my body, my thigh now fully exposed.

Rafe’s eyes clocked the newly exposed skin. His distraction bought me enough time shove his shoulders back causing him to stagger.

Pulling my body up, I tried to crawl off the bed but shriek when familiar hands clamped onto my ankles and dragged me back down the bed.

“God, you asshole.”

He ignored me and straddled my hips, his legs pinning me in place. My heart pulsed against my rib cage.

“I’m the asshole? You’ve been throwing shit at me for the past ten minutes.”

Glaring at him, I jerk my arm free with the full intention of slapping him when Rafe catches my hand.

“Stop trying to hit me.” He growled, his patience gone. With rough hands, he grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head in one hand. The other gripped my chin tightly, forcing my eyes to his volatile memorizing blues.

“Now that I have your attention. Take it back.” Rafe breathed out harshly.

He waited for me to answer but the words never left my lips. Instead, my entire focus was on the rigid mass of muscles that were pressed against my body.

My dress had entirely pooled at my waist, the lace black thong I wore peaked out from under.

Rafe leaned down and moved his grip on my chin up slightly so my lips pursed out in a pout.

His swipe his tongue against my pouty lips before placing a soft kiss along them. “Take it back.”

The small act made my body feel like it was on fire and the desire to arch my back and beg for more was overwhelming.

The evidence of our struggle was resting hard against my stomach. Desire filled my mouth but I couldn’t let him see that. I tried to jerk my head out of his grasp but he tsked.

Maneuvering his body slightly, he rested himself in between my legs. Slowly reaching in between us, the tough calloused hand I loved having around my throat trailed along my thigh, curling around my knee and hooking it across his waist.

“Oh god…” I couldnt control the whimper that escaped me. My body was wired tight with anticipation at the familiar rush of want threatened to drown me.

His hand trailed back, the bits of his nails scraping along my naked thighs. They catch the waistband of my thong where he teasingly slips a finger underneath.

“I can feel how hot your pussy is.” The words were rough against my lips. “We’re so good together. All you have to do, is take it back.”

“No.” Yes.

His chuckle was throaty almost hoarse as he trembled with barely there restraint. “That fucking mouth.”

Rafe allowed his open palm to travel up my navel, the roughness of his hand contradicting the silk of the dress.

“Please.” I was weak, I was so incredibly weak. I was a trembling mass of limbs under him just at his touch.

The palm of his hand finally trails up between the valley of breasts before curling around my throat tightening possessively.

“Take. It. Fucking. Back.” He emphasized each word with a hot kiss to my lips.

I clamped my eyes shut willing for him to disappear. What do you do when your worst nightmare is also the love of your life?

I felt his forehead rest against mine, his breath heavy against my own. “Don’t say that to me. Say whatever the hell you want, but not that. Never that.”

I slowly opened my eyes. Deep pools of glacial blue stare back at me overwhelmingly beautiful and gloriously mad.

“I didn’t mean it.” The words were spoken softly, barley above a whisper.

Rafe closed his eyes briefly in relief. “You drive me insane.”

A giggle erupted from my chest at the irony of his words because I’m almost certain he’s clinically psychotic. At the sound of my laughter, he opens his eyes and sends me a soft smile that relaxed all the harsh lines in his face.

Lifting a hand to his face, my finger tips slowly smooth out the stressed lines along his eyes.

“My head.”

“What?” I asked letting my hand finally run through the buzzed hair on his scalp, goosebumps erupt on my skin at the thought of it in between my legs.

“It’s finally quiet.”

My hand froze at his honesty and my heart ached for him. The same heart that has now decided to throw all reason outside the window.

I just wanted this pain to go away even for a few moments. He always had the ability to take it away even if he was the one causing it.

I tugged him down gently and he followed me with ease. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes darted to my lips.

“Did you miss me?”

A rumble left his chest. “Fuck, I missed you.”

My heart soared at his confession. I dragged the tips of my nails down the curve of his jaw and trail down his throat making him freeze.

At the sight of the familiar gold chain that decorated his neck, my legs clenched around him.

Even apart, he always kept me with him.

Not bothering to look up, I leaned forward with one finger grasping the chain that hit my chest while my lips placed an open mouth kiss along the curve of his neck.

I caught the chain between my lips humming to myself, completely entranced by him. Rafe balled the sheet in his grip by my head but it wasn’t enough. I needed to get it out of him.

Running my nose along the side of his neck inhaling deeply, my tongue slips out gently applying pressure as I drag it up his neck slowly.

Reaching the curve of his jaw, I peppered open mouth kisses like I would his lips. My blood drummed through my ears and need entered my bloodstream.

“Will you fucking kiss me already?” Rafe said gruffly, nipping at my lip.

He stared at me with half lidded eyes, his pupils blown out wide in arousal. “What do I get if I do?”

The filthy smile he shot me was filled with sin.

“I’ll fuck you dumb. Just how you like it.” He put his lips to my ear, the promise in his voice had me shivering in anticipation.

Tilting my head up, I smashed my lips to his causing him to let out a groan of relief. Our kiss was messy and desperate after so much time apart, our teeth clashed as we fought for dominance.

Rafe took over the kiss practically inhaling my very breath as his tongue brushed against mine. His fingers biting into the tops of my thighs as I tilted my hips up against his, desperate for friction.

Pulling back slightly, Rafe’s hand grips my chin roughly forcing my lips into a pout. Breathing harshly, he leaned forward and licked my pursed lips before kissing me again.

Capturing my tongue between his lips, he sucks on the muscle causing me to let out a soft whimper. We separated, our eyes lock on each other filled with lust, both of us breathing hard and accepting our fate.

“You gonna be good for me?”

The ache between my legs was almost painful as I nodded my head at him, begging with my eyes.

Rafe’s hands moved to my waist in seconds has he gathered the scrunched fabric and ripped over my head, leaving me in my black lace thong and nothing else.

His eyes darkened with each passing second as he stared at my body. I leaned back on the palms of my hands and arched my back in invitation.

Rafe traced the curves of my body with his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. His eyes never left my body as he took in every detail.

He looked starved.

Impatiently, I tugged at his shirt and started fumbling with the buttons. Finally the shirt gave way as I pushed it off his shoulders, my hands coming in contact with his built chest, smooth and firm.

His muscles flexed under my touch as I became mesmerized by his body. He had gotten bigger than before, his arms now bulging with muscles.

My fingers trailed down his tight pecs to his abdomen where I let one finger trail along each chiseled ab, my mouth salivating at the thought of tasting each bit of skin.

My breath started coming out in pants. Those blue eyes gleamed at my obvious attraction and the smirk on his lips said enough. His cheeks dusted slightly with pink at my burning undivided attention.

My hand dipped between us to the tent in his slacks and I slowly pressed my palm against the hard bulge. Rafe let out a relieved sigh as his hips pushed against my hand for more pressure.

“Rafe..” I let out a needy whine. The only coherent thought I could form was that I need him inside me.

“Hmm?”

“I want it now.”

He chuckled at my words, licking his lips slowly as he trailed his open palm up my abdomen towards my breasts. Cupping my breast in his hand, he gave it a squeeze before flicking the nub.

My eyes closed tightly, relishing at how his large hands gripped me. His mouth latched onto the hard nub forcing a gasp from me as he sucks and teasingly swipes his tongue around in circles.

He switches his attention to the other causing me to throw my head back in appreciation. My hands held on his head as I pulled him closer to my chest.

Brining his lips back to mine, Rafe nips at my jaw before dragging soft kisses down the size of my neck. I could feel my core start to clench on nothingness due to the level of sensitivity my body was wired on.

His lips latch onto my neck, as he pulled my skin into his mouth, sucking harshly. His hands kneaded into the globes of my ass as he left his mark on my body.

Examining his handy work, Rafe placed small kisses on the several hickeys I knew he left on my neck.

Nothing he did was ever on accident. This I knew he did for a reason, to prove the one point I tried to deny.

We were so good together.

“I’m going to eat you fucking alive.” Harsh words were rasped against my lips as his fingers dipped to my waist, curling around the ribbon of my thong before tugging roughly. The straps gave way as he tore my panties off, quickly tucking them into his pocket.

Now completely bare, Rafe’s fingers dancing across my smooth mound. Unconsciously, my legs opened further at the feeling of his cold rings against my pulsating pussy.

Fuck, those rings.

He glided a single digit along the slit dipping it in between when a low pained moan left his lips.

“You’re dripping on the mattress.”

I didn’t give myself the chance to be embarrassed at his words because the way he was looking at me had me breathless. My brain was blank. Not one explanation came to mind other than him.

He did this to me.

Rafe slips another finger in, the evidence of my arousal being used as lubricant against my clit.

Cursing, he moves off the bed and grabs my hips, tugging me to the edge of the bed where he kneels. Forcing my legs open further, his breathe hits my lips and I can’t hide the tremble in my legs.

His thick ring covered fingers slowly rub my lips before dipping in, separating them slowly in the shape of a ‘V’ opening me up completely under his greedy gaze.

Rafe pushes a finger in, meeting no resistance, and I can feel myself immediately clench around him.

A moan slipped out as he slowly began to thrust in and out while his thumb ghosted along my clit. Slipping another finger in, he begins to pick up his pace, the only sounds to be heard are the squelching of my juices and his hard grunts.

It was obscene how loud the wet noises were but he was eating it up.

Flicking my nub with his thumb, he curled his fingers making me cry out in pleasure. Pulling them out, Rafe finally leans down and drags his tongue from ass to clit.

Prying my lips open, Rafe sticks his tongue indices of me, thrusting in and out. He hummed against my clit, pulling them between his lips and sucking harshly.

“Fuck you for leaving me. I could have had this every day but you took it away from me.” To anyone else, I knew that came off as mean and probably extremely aggressive. But, I knew what he actually meant.

That translated to, I missed you.

My legs were wrapped around his head with my back arched as I rutted my hips against his face. His fingers, which were drenched in my slick, trailed up my stomach and onto my breasts covering me in my juices.

It only made me burn more.

I began to convulse under his brutal assault of my pussy and my nerves were shot. “Oh god, oh god.” I gasped as my fingers dragged along his scalp.

He hand successfully pinned me down by his forearms as he continued to lap at my lips. Rafe circled my clit with his tongue, prodding at it again and again in a relentless assault. Not giving me a moment to breath, he softly bits on the nub at the same time he slams to fingers into me.

A wave of pleasure hits my body and my toes curl in ecstasy with my eyes slammed shut. I could feel myself gushing onto his face as his name comes out in loud chants.

A warm flush passes through my body as I slump against the bed, exhausted. A languid sigh leaves my mouth as I try to catch my breath.

Rafe presses one long kiss against my pussy, his fingers forming a ‘v’ once more to watch as I dripped onto the mattress. I could feel the wetness under my ass but didn’t dare move.

“So fucking pretty.”

Rafe stood up from between my legs and towered over me with dark eyes.

Holy fuck.

Spit and my arousal dripped from chin, his entire mouth and nose glistening from my juices.

His eyes never moved from mine as he lazily began to undo his belt with one hand. Tugging it off his waist, he tossed it to the ground before he began to unzip his pants.

Rafe stepped out of his pants and underwear leaving him completely naked. I had remind myself to properly breathe.

His dark hooded eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

He gripped his hard and heavy cock in one hand letting out a groan. Tilting his head back slightly, he lazily tugged at his cock making my pussy pound with need.

He looked like a Greek god with his head thrown back like that in pleasure.

“Are you fucking me or what?” There was a bite to my words.

Rafe narrowed his eyes at me before languidly stroking his cock a few more times. “Don’t get pissy.”

I opened my mouth to argue then shut it closed as he came into the bed, spreading my legs wide open.

“Look at me.”

My eyes darted up and connected with his darkened blue orbs. Without breaking eye contact, Rafe gathered saliva in his mouth and spits directly onto my pussy while his hands pinned me open.

My chest heaved up on down at the action, making me feel so filthy. He brings the tip to my slit and slaps it gently against my sensitive engorged lips.

A pained whine escaped me at his teasing.

“Someone’s needy.” He mused.

Leaning forward, he slowly pushed in cursing under his breath. My legs were shaking as I furrowed my eyes brows at the intrusion.

I felt full as my eyes glossed over the more he pushed his hips in. I didn’t remember him stretching and making me feel this full.

“Rafe, I dont think-“

“I used to fuck you in the shower, the car, in the fucking boat. You can take me, baby.” He murmured against my lips, taking my bottom lip in between his teeth and tugged gently. “You used to sit on my cock and keep me warm.”

He slides another inch, my cunt sucking him in. I could feel every ridge of his thick hard cock against my quivering walls.

“That’s it. Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” Rafe praised, his hands dancing along my thighs in a loving caress.

I felt myself clench at his words and a wave a clinginess hit me. Mewling for contact, Rafe reads my face with satisfaction as leans over me, giving me the closeness I needed.

My nails dig into his shoulders as he sinks into me further, causing my mouth to open and close like a fish out of water.

I momentarily forgot how to breathe. He completely bottoms out inside me drawing a loud moan from my lips.

“Such a good girl for me,” Rafe muttered, pressing soft kisses along my face. “Your pussy remembers exactly who owns it.”

He let out a deep groan in my ear causing goosebumps to appear. He was so fucking vocal, he knew how to kill me.

“I’m the only one that fucks you the way you need to be fucked, right?”

I ignored the questions, instead focusing my attention on the feel of his cock twitching inside me.

Rafe pulls out before slamming back into me, a scream leaving my lips as my back arched in pleasure.

“Fucking answer me.”

I could barely hear him over the pounding of my ears.

He begins to rut into me, each thrust echoing with sopping wet sounds. My walls quivered and pulsated around his dick.

Slowing down his pace, he pushes my thighs up, folding me in half before slamming into me again. The tip of his dick brushes my cervix making my eyes roll to the back of my head as I gasped for breath.

Rafe’s pace is brutal as he savagely fucks me into the mattress. A choked sob left my mouth as I dug my nails deeper into his skin.

The sound is skin hitting skin echos in the room making me clench even harder. My upper thighs were soaked with my slick and his spit, making the noise all the more dirty.

“Tell me I’m the only one that fucks you like this.”

A gargled noise left my lips as my brain began to short circuit. He only pounded into me harder at my lack of response.

I could only focus on the ceiling as I gasped for my breath.

“You think JJ can get you to forget how fucking breathe?”

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

My eyes were blown wide and my mind completely blank as I mumbled incoherently under him.

“How about Pope? Does he know how to get you break?”

He harshly spat the words, punctuating each sentence with a pistoled thrust. I was a mindless mess under him. My eyes rolled to the back of my head with my mouth dropped open.

“You’re a fucking freak. They don’t know how to handle you. But, I do.”

He needed to stop talking before I blacked out.

Letting go of my legs he tried to move back, but I immediately wrapped them around his waist, wanting to be as close as two people could.

I was a desperate whining mess as I begged him for more.

Roughly grabbing my chin in between his two fingers, his eyes laced with heat. “Open your mouth.”

With wide eyes, my mouth slowly opens and my tongue slides out. Rafe places his mouth over mine before spitting directly onto my tongue all the while slowly thrusting in and out of my gummy walls.

Moving back, he stared at me through half lidded eyes. “Swallow it.”

My brain had turned to mush at this point. I blinked at him before I swallowed his spit, humming under his heated gaze.

“Missed that pretty mouth.”

I clamped down on him at his words. I blushed under his gaze. Rafe dipped his head, connecting our lips, licking his way into my mouth.

Suddenly, I feel him pull out of me causing me to whine in protest at the loss. His hands grabbed my hips in a brutal grip before turning me over onto my stomach.

He tried lifting my hips into position but they were shaking so intensely that I couldn’t hold them up.

“My legs-“ I gasped out gulps of air with my face resting onto the sheets, my hands gripping the sheets into tight balls.

“Come on, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me? Hold up your legs.” He cooed in my ear.

At his demand, I somehow found the strength to push myself up, arching my back as far as I could with my legs shaking.

A guttural groan erupts from his chest as I feel him separate my ass cheeks. Sinking back into me, Rafe begins to truly fuck me into oblivion.

His pace is animalistic, not stopping once. “I’m in your fucking stomach.” He spoke through gritted teeth, his grunts filling the room.

One of his hands trailed up my spine before wrapping itself around the nape of my neck, threading his fingers into my hair and pinned me down.

My cries were muffled into the sheets as he’s grip on my neck tightened possessively.

“Had-Harder, Rafe. Please, please please.” I was babbling on and on with pleads.

He was fucking me so hard I’m almost certain he left an imprint. My eyes began to water from overstimulation as he kept bottoming out against my cervix.

I could slowly start to feel myself spasming against his dick, with each glide and thrust. His hands now holding my hips in a punish grip, sure to leave bruises.

It was too much. I kept forgetting how to breathe and found myself slowly becoming light headed from the pleasure.

Tears began to fall and soak the sheets bellow me as I cried out with whimpers. Choked sobs loudly leave my mouth at him roughly pulling back before grinding back into me.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.”

I went stupid.

He fucked me relentlessly, his palms messaging the fat of my ass before slapping it. Reaching between us, his fingers circle my clit, causing sharp hiss to leave me.

My legs gave out beneath me as tears continued to leak. Rafe didn’t care, instead he continued to piston into me muttering words of praise.

The tightness in my stomach began to build, my toes curling in anticipation. “Oh god. I’m-“

I couldn’t finish my words as my mind went compelled numb, a hot flash a white bursting behind my eye lids. A wave I’ve pleasure snapped as I wailed out his name.

I withered underneath him before my body went completely limp, warm with satisfaction.

He never slowed down. Rafe continued to fuck me through my orgasm as I whined and incoherently begged for more.

I gushed all over his legs, half dazed and mindless.

“W-wanna see your face.” I begged him numbly, needing to see his face when he finished.

“Whatever you want.” Rafe flipped me onto my back before pushing into me once more.

The intrusion has me throwing my head back where he grunted as he dragged his tongue along the side of my exposed neck.

I sobbed to myself. I could taste the salt on my lips and I knew my mascara was running down my cheeks.

My head lolled to the side, my eyes half shut as I stared at him. His neck was tight, and his body tense as him pace began to pick up speed. A new sense of vigour filled him as he rutted into me.

“Rafe, I-I want it.” The words were reckless, but he fucked all my braincells gone.

He was hitting me so deeply, you could see the bulge slightly through my stomach.

A groan ripped out of his mouth, his eyes finding mine. He looked drunk. Drunk off of me.

“You want my cum, baby?”

I nodded stupidly.

“I knew you could take it. Such a good fucking girl for me. So good to me.”

Rafe leaned down and hungrily kissed me, our lips clashing against each other. I panted into his mouth as he rocked into me again and again.

He pulled out before slamming himself back in again and again, grunting and moaning as he fucked the life out of me.

“I’m gonna come inside this pretty pussy.” He grunted against my lips, “I’m gonna fill you up.”

My arms wrapped themselves around his head, forcing his forehead against mine. My eyes stayed on his as I slowly lifted my hips and rocked them against his.

His thrusts begin to stutter as I whispered dirty little nothings to him. I couldn’t control the desire that had me pressing open mouth kisses along his face.

I licked and lapped at his mouth, kissing him roughly.

Rafe began to moan loudly, sweat dripped down the side of his face but I caught it with my tongue.

“Fucking brat.” He cursed out, pinning me down by my throat, the cool metal of his rings soothing my burning skin.

My hand held onto his that was on my throat to serve as some sort of anchor. He took his other hand and wiped my tears across my face, making more of a mess.

“I knew you’d cry for me.”

Rafe clenched his jaw in pleasure before throwing his head back and letting out a loud moan.

Planting himself deeply inside me, I gasped and clamped down on him and in seconds he filled me with his cum.

My body was exhausted as I lazily stared up at him, a small smile of satisfaction decorating my lips.

Wincing as he slowly pulled out of me, I could feel his seed slowly leak out of me and onto the bed.

Rafe caught the slick arousal with his finger and slowly dipped it back inside of me causing me to hiss due to the over-sensitivity.

I watched him through tired eyes, catching his hand into mine and brought it to my face.

His hand curled along my jaw as he wiped the remaining tears away with his thumb. Rafe stared at me with open infatuation as he traced my eyes, then my nose, and finally my lips with his fingers.

“You’ll never be over me.”

At his words, I felt a pang hit my chest that painfully curled around my heart.

His words were cruel, but true.

He wasn’t good for me. In fact, he was my own personal demon that caused all sort of pain in my life time and time again.

Rafe brought me to life. A spark inside me, that I didn’t know existed, ignited. I ached for his attentions and became quickly addicted. His charm and smile lured me into his web of lies and manipulation, and never let me out.

Instead, I threw myself deeper into his web and wrapped myself around his bed of lies. His darkness became my darkness and I accepted every ugly piece of him.

His presence was overwhelming that at times I found it hard to breathe and hard to think. He made me loose my sanity. My very existence had circled around one thing: Rafe.

I would never get over him because he was in my fucking bloodstream.

“I hate you.” My words were weak at best, softly spoken. I stared at him openly hurt, my face shattered as the reality of our situation sets in.

Rafe mirrors my expression, “No, you don’t.”

So I ask you again, what do you do when the monster from your nightmares is also the love of your life?

——————————

Side note: they are fucking F-R-E-A-K-S. He’s so hot I cant even. This is going to be part one of a two part series!!! Please let me know what you think:)

[cece693]

mano mažylė (Father! Hannibal Lecter)

Felt like writing something angsty and then combined with my obsession of the Hannibal tv show, I questioned what it would be like for a child to be raised by Hannibal. A tiny snot covered child who is scared of the dark but as they grow up realize their father is a cannibalistic serial killer....or maybe not?

Summary: How would things turn out if Hannibal raised a child on his own? Not that good.

tags: Hannibal is a father, he's a flawed person, mistakes are made, running away, Abigail is still hated by me so she'll be an antagonist, maybe a part 2 is on it's way

The world believed you were God’s favorite, born into privilege as the only child of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. But you knew better. You loathed him. Loathed the man who shared half your DNA while the other half remained a shadow, an enigma lost to time.

It hadn’t always been this way. As a child, you adored him. You wanted his approval, his praise, his love—simple things every child should receive without question. But Hannibal Lecter had never been a good father. Not in the way that mattered.

He excelled at maintaining appearances. Your clothes were immaculate, your education rigorous, your home a work of art. Yet, for all his brilliance and sophistication, Hannibal seemed incapable of the simplest acts of fatherly affection. He never hugged you, not once in your memory. He never showed kindness that didn’t come with calculated precision, and he certainly never sought to enjoy the small, fleeting moments between a father and child.

The small drawings you'd create for him—depictions of the two of you together, your childish hand scrawling smiles and hearts—would be shoved into his desk drawer without a second glance, never hung on the walls or displayed on the fridge like other parents might. When you cried after a particularly bad nightmare, he would send you back to your room with a simple wave of his hand, his attention already elsewhere. No comfort, no embrace, no whispered assurances that it was only a dream.

Nothing you did ever produced an ounce of affection from him. But his place in Baltimore's social circle? That was another matter entirely. He prioritized his social image over the bond you craved. Dinners with influential guests, exquisite banquets, and whispered conversations about art and philosophy filled the house while he'd dismissed you to your room. The door would shut with a firm finality, his deep voice ringing with calm authority: “Go upstairs.”

Even as a child, you felt the sting of that rejection. The lavish dinners he painstakingly prepared were not for you. The carefully cultivated relationships he cherished were more valuable to him than the one he should have been building with you. You were an accessory in his meticulously curated life, a piece of his narrative rather than a person to be loved.

The resentment you buried for years began to boil over when Hannibal brought Abigail Hobbs into your home. For reasons you couldn’t understand, he treated her differently. He gave her his time, his attention—things you had long since stopped hoping for. Hannibal had even invited her into his sacred space—the kitchen. You watched from the doorway, unseen but seething, as he guided her hands on a knife, showing her how to properly julienne vegetables, his voice soft and patient. It was a thing you had only observed from afar, never experienced.

And then came the final blow—the moment that shattered the thin thread holding your heart together. You watched as Hannibal embraced Abigail, his arms wrapping securely around her small frame. One hand cradled the back of her head, his touch tender and protective, as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

Where was this Hannibal when you needed him? Where had this version of him been when you were the child longing for his love?

You couldn’t stay. Not in that house. Not with the reminder of what he was capable of giving but had chosen not to give to you. So, you ran. You left without looking back, vowing to never forgive him for the years of cold detachment, for the love he had withheld, for the way he made you feel like an afterthought in your own life.

For Hannibal, destruction was all he knew. It was an art, a purpose, a calling. But the day he first gazed upon you—his child, swaddled in soft blankets, your tiny hand grasping his shirt—something unfamiliar stirred within him. Adoration. Pride. Perhaps even love, though he would never admit it, not even to himself.

He had never envisioned himself as a father. For all his meticulous planning, the idea of parenthood had been an abstraction, an unthinkable detour from the life he had carefully constructed. Yet, when the mother of his child informed him of your existence, a quiet certainty settled over him: you were his.

He killed her shortly after. It was nothing personal—just necessity. Hannibal Lecter did not share. He would not allow anyone else to claim you, to influence you, to take you from him. You were his blood, his creation, and that meant you belonged to him entirely.

Still, Hannibal recognized his own darkness. He knew the shadows that lingered in his mind, the hunger that defined him, were no place for an innocent child. For all his pride, a part of him hoped you would never become like him. He wanted to preserve your purity, your light, even if it meant keeping a careful distance. So, when he saw you gaining independence—first as an inquisitive toddler, then as a fiercely determined child—he began to step back. Slowly, deliberately.

He ensured you were safe and had everything you needed to prosper. The finest tutors, the best schools, the most luxurious comforts. Yet, he withheld what you truly craved: love, warmth, and connection. He refused to give you what might make you look deeper, what might tempt you to uncover the cracks in his mask. He feared that if you saw the real him, you would recoil in terror. And Hannibal, for all his control and detachment, could not bear the thought of you fearing him.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fond of you. Quite the opposite. Hannibal cherished you in his own way, quietly and from a distance. All the small drawings you made for him as a child—brightly colored stick figures of the two of you, accompanied by phrases like “Me and Daddy!” or “Best Dad in the World!”—he carefully kept. He never displayed them, of course. That would have disrupted the pristine aesthetic of his home. Instead, he tucked them into a leather folder, hidden away in his bedroom.

When you were away at school, he would pull them out. Alone in the quiet of his space, he would trace the lines of your messy handwriting, pausing over the parts where you had clearly erased and rewritten to make it perfect. Those small, clumsy marks filled him with something unnameable—an ache that he would not call regret but might have been close to longing.

It was those words—Best Dad in the World—that kept him firm in his decision. He would not let the innocence in you fade. He would shield you from the world’s horrors and, more importantly, from his own.

But then he brought Abigail Hobbs into their house, and everything crumbled.

Hannibal had known it would stir some jealousy. Abigail was, after all, an interloper in your space, stealing his attention. He imagined it would be a passing irritation, something that could be soothed with time. What he failed to anticipate was how deeply her presence would cut. Abigail was not like you. She wasn’t innocent. Her father’s sins had already tainted her, and that darkness—the one she carried so naturally—was something Hannibal understood, even appreciated.

He allowed himself to envision a future: Abigail as your sister, a young woman who could carry the weight of his world without breaking. He imagined the two of you sitting together at his table, becoming a family that would include his dearest Will Graham. It was a beautiful picture, one he painted with great care in his mind. But Hannibal, so enraptured by this fantasy, failed to detect the resentment growing within you.

Your heart, already heavy with years of neglect, bloomed with fresh anger and hatred. Abigail had taken what little space you had in his world and filled it with her presence, her pain, her dark reflections of the fatherly affection you had longed for.

The breaking point came one evening when dinner was ready, and you failed to appear. Hannibal ascended the stairs, his movements deliberate but heavy with irritation. He thought to find you sulking in your room, perhaps brooding over a perceived slight. But when he opened the door, the truth struck him like a blade.

The dresser drawers were open, several items missing. The window was slightly ajar, letting in a cool breeze that made the curtains flutter softly. Your phone rested on the bedside table, an unspoken declaration that you did not want to be found.

And then he saw it—the note scrawled across your mirror in bold, angry letters.

I hate you.

The black marker lines were thick and uneven, etched with trembling, furious hands. For a moment, Hannibal stood frozen, the words searing into him like fire. It wasn’t just the note. It was the empty space, the absence of your presence, the finality of the choice you had made.

He stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the remnants of you. The room still smelled faintly of your presence, but it was hollow now, like a shell. A part of him wanted to reach out and erase the words, to undo the weight they carried, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, the perfect stillness of his body betraying the storm within.

Hannibal Lecter rarely felt regret. But as he gazed at the angry scrawl on the mirror, the open window, and the phone you had so carefully left behind, he felt something dangerously close to it.

He had wanted to protect you. To shield you. To preserve the light he saw in you. But instead, he had driven you away. And now, the silence of the house felt unbearable. For all his careful planning, for all his control, Hannibal Lecter had made a mistake and there was no correcting it.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(The Pirate and the Kraken AU)

*the ship had been torn apart by red and gold tentacles while they chased the infamous pirate ship Eden, the ship was known for being staffed by exclusively female pirates called the Exorcists in spite of it being said that it was bad luck to have a woman on a ship and the captain was an equally beautiful man who was rumored to have a sea devil guarding him, the royal captain Michael struggled to cling to a piece of debris, he was the only survivor, sitting on the debris was a man with slicked back blonde hair white skin with red circles on his cheeks while shark like fangs filled his mouth, he wore black pants and black high heel boots, a white shirt that was half open and white jacket with red and gold accents, while the tentacles coming from back were no longer gigantic, he recognized the red and gold tentacles*

Michael: You’re the Kraken, the Sea Devil himself Lucifer Morningstar.

Lucifer: I have to keep telling everyone that I don’t like you chasing my future Queen.

*Michael gaped at Lucifer, he was planning on marrying one of the pirates on Eden, but Lucifer used his boot to shove Michael’s head under the water which made him thrash until he was dead*

Lucifer internally: Thankfully I have Charlie pretend to be a new recruit to the Exorcists so I can keep an eye on my rare gem.

*on Eden Charlie was in her human disguise being given a tour of the ship from a beautiful pirate lady named Vaggie, Charlie stopped in her tracks when she saw a man and a woman talking, the woman was the first mate Lute, but it was the Captain who held her interest because he was her father’s rare gem as he liked to call him, he was tall with short brown hair, he was dressed in dark blue, black, and gold there was a scar running through his left eye where he lost it when he started out as a pirate and he put a gold topaz in the empty eye socket, his remaining eye was honey brown*

Vaggie: Sir, this is Charlotte Magne.

*Magne was the fake last name she gave because Morningstar was the last name of legendary sea devil her father*

Charlie: Most people call me Charlie.

Adam: As long as you are willing to work you are welcome, my name is Captain Adam Kadmon, welcome to Eden.

*Vaggie finished giving Charlie the tour and gave her a job, while working she kept an eye on Adam since her father gave her the job to guard him while he found the potion to make it so Adam could live with him underwater, that night Charlie waited as Lucifer used his tentacles to climb aboard*

Lucifer: I have to see him Charlie.

*Charlie could tell her dad was deeply in love with this pirate Captain*

Charlie: He is sleeping, so it should be easy.

*Lucifer snuck into the captain’s quarters, he was struck by how beautiful the sleeping man was, he could tell by the thin sheet being the only thing covering Adam that he slept naked*

Lucifer internally: You are such a beautiful and rare gem, soon you shall be mine.

*Lucifer then leaned forward and kissed Adam on the lips as he slept*

Luicfer softly caressed his face, he couldn't wait for the day that he could make Adam his Queen.

He looked over his body that was only hidden by a sheet and Luicfer wished he could see all of him. He's been keeping Adam and his crew safe all these months since he laid eyes on the captain.

If Lucifer found out who took his eye he'd kill them too.

Lucifer: Soon darling.~

Adam sighed in his sleep, he was having such a lovely dream.

When Lucifer left he handed Charlie a map to the island where the crown was.

Lucifer: Make sure he goes after it alone once he's inside.

Charlie: Yes dad.

Lucifer left and now he waited for his love to come to him.

In the morning when Adam got ready for the day he felt so good. He felt even better when his new hire came to him with a map.

Charlie: It's said to lead to a very valuable crown captain.

Adam looked it over and smiled: Good work Charlie. We'll set sail at high noon.

[xdjville]

wayv and their own love languages

pairing: wayv x gn!reader

cw: mentions of sex in winwin's (only in words, no descriptions), yangyang (half)jokingly being a hater in xiaojun's, proof read but i'm tired

author's note: i had to physically stop myself from getting carried away with kun's so it wouldn't end up twice as long as the others man i love him

#kun

quality time

if it wasn't for kun being so busy, he would literally be glued to you at the hip. only with you around he's able to truly relax, you're like a power outlet that he can use to charge his battery. what you're doing doesn't really matter to him that much, he will enjoy anything as long as you're there, but the slow, quiet moments when you're both in your own worlds have to be the ones he cherishes the most. of course, he loves going out with you and having a blast too, but something about those occasions brings him a sense of domesticity and really lets him unwind. like when you're both in his studio - him at the desk, composing or working on lyrics, while you're on the couch in the back with your laptop, focused on your own tasks, the silence being broken only the few times that kun asks about your opinion on whatever he came up with, or when you stand up to get a drink and place a kiss on his cheek as you walk by. or it could be him cooking dinner for the two of you, showing off his skills as you sit on the counter, humming quietly to his playlist playing in the background. every now and then he'd turn around to give you a piece of the food he's making for a taste test, repaying each good idea of how to improve the dish with a kiss.

#ten

thinking about you

ten is pretty much thinking about you every second that he's awake (and sometimes in his dreams, too), he's never not thinking about you. he often gets reminded of you by random things, whether because he thinks there's a visual resemblance (he then usually sends you a photo and a "you lol"), because it's something you like, or because it's somehow connected to a shared memory of yours. he brings you up in conversations a lot too, to the point where some of his friends seem to know you quite well without having actually met you. when he's travelling, he always takes many photos to send you along with voice messages about how his day went, and buys souvenirs or little trinkets to gift you when he's back. on the rare occasion when he's grocery shopping on his own, he makes it his mission to find all of your favorite snacks, which more often than not gets him distracted from the list you had put together for him, so you end up with a bunch of candy and no dinner (which is exactly why him shopping alone is a rare occurance). he also really likes putting together playlists with songs that remind him of you, some of them he'll send and give you access to, but there's also a few he made private which he listens to on days when the longing feels worse than usual.

#winwin

"i love you"

to most, it might seem like not that big of a deal, but to winwin those three words hold more meaning than all other existing ones combined. a meaning that's so important and valuable, binding even, that he uses them carefully and scarcelly in order to not abuse them. for most of his life they were reserved only for the closest family members, then, although in a different sense, also for his fans. saying them romantically for the first time was a whole new sesantion to him, and to be honest it still feels a bit foreign and uncomfortable. not because he doesn't love you, that he sure does and he makes sure to show that in other ways, but actually saying it out loud just makes him feel so bare and out in the open. hence his "i love you"s are usually muttered into the crook of your neck when you're pressed together after making love, breathed against your lips when he breaks the kiss only for a second so you can't see his face gaining more color than it already had, or whispered into your ear as he gently strokes the back of your head, your tears soaking into his sweater.

#xiaojun

sharing

xiaojun doesn't really do this purposefully, as a way to show his affection, it's just that the concept of "mine" and "yours" genuinely doesn't exist in his mind when it comes to you. want a bite of his food? it's yours as much as it's his. out of moisturiser? you probably use the same brand anyways. really like that one hoodie of his? might as well have been yours in the first place. he never expects the same behavior in return, he's totally fine if you value your privacy and he makes sure that you understand each other's boundaries, but he never lets go of that "what's mine is yours" mindset either way. xiaojun really enjoys showing you off ("shoving your relationship into people's faces", as one german boy likes to call it), so you wearing his clothes or jewelry is his absolute favorite thing ever. he then stares at you with heart-shaped, sparkly eyes, a wide, lovesick grin on his face, and the tips of his ears burning red (to the german boy's disgust).

#hendery

being vulnerable with you

very few people get to see the other side of hendery than the cheerful, quirky self that he usually is. the side that's exhausted and afraid, that pains and ugly cries. a lot of doors have to opened to reach it, but he trusts you more than anything and anyone, ever. he doesn't think he could be any more real and unfiltered as he is with you, it's almost like it's more comfortable than when he's all alone. when you're there, he can just let everything go and express his feelings in a way that's most true to himself, without faking or conceiling anything. all those nights he spent crying because of his past, present, and future, because of his fears and scars and sorrows, you've been there for him. and although in the morning when you're tangled in your sheets with puffy faces and dry skin either of you knows better than to mention whatever was said that night, he's truly, deeply grateful, and each time he makes a promise to himself that one day he'll tell you that.

#yangyang

kissing

yangyang's nothing if not a kiss person. it's his favorite thing in the whole world, to be able to just connect your lips until he forgets his own name because yours is all he can think about. little pecks, french kisses, make out sessions, spiderman kisses - you name it, he loves all of them and they're all his favorites, as long as it's you who's on the other end. you often try to push him away because you just ate something with garlic, or because you have yet to brush your teeth in the morning, but none of that really matters to him. in fact, he cherishes every sensation that comes with it, be it a taste of what you ate, the feeling of your dry lips when you forget to put on chapstick, or a string of saliva that keeps you connected after you pull away - god, that one makes him go weak in the knees. he especially likes when you take the initiative, it makes him feel loved and all warm inside (he would never admit that though). and if you lead the kiss, maybe a bit riled up from something happening at work or because you've missed him? oh, he's a goner.

#taglist ➼♡ @bambisnc

©xdjville

[breezeoow]

Seventeen as Japanese Philosophy-

1.Choi Seungcheol;

Scoups as Mamori Tai: “I will always protect you”

Mamori Tai is a heartfelt sentiment which is typically reserved for when expressing feelings to a loved one, be it a family member, close friend, or romantic partner. It conveys a strong personal wish or intention to safeguard or preserve something of significance. Mamori Tai signifies an emotional or philosophical commitment to safeguarding something that holds particular value or importance. It expresses a desire to preserve or guard something valuable or cherished. It reflects a deep sense of responsibility or attachment to something that is considered important.

2.Yoon Jeonghan;

Jeonghan as Yugen: “Profound awareness and mysterious beauty”

Yugen is used in the context of a deep emotional response to a piece of art, like a Jackson Pollock painting, or nature. Yugen deals with the depth of meaning we find in the world through our imaginative perception of the universe and its wonders. Our perception triggers an emotional response that cannot be explained, for it is much bigger than us alone, and yet we are part of it.

3.Hong Jisoo;

Joshua as Ikigai: “A reason for being”

Ikigai describes our reason for being, the reason we get up in the morning. Be it a family member, hobby, pet, or profession, Ikigai is how we would describe the thing that keeps us going through our ups and downs, and motivates us to move forward in life. Ikigai is about finding true happiness. Ikigai serves as a useful tool to discover dream career, or to find out what one may enjoy doing in life. Ikigai has four primary elements: what you love (your passion), what the world needs (your mission), what you are good at (your vocation), and what you can get paid for (your profession).We all have an Ikigai, it’s just a matter of finding it.

4.Wen Junhui;

Jun as Kintsugi: “The art of broken things”

Kintsugi is used in the context of a broken object, like pottery, repaired with (traditionally) gold lacquer.It’s a practice that was developed 15th century Japan that sought to create beauty out of what would have been considered worthless. Kintsugi teaches us that in life we can turn adversity into something that is beautiful and resilient. Kintsugi shows us that in time, we can heal from our wounds, embrace our imperfections, and become stronger.

5.Kwon Soonyoung;

Hoshi as Kanbina: “A word that sounds sweet and pleasant to the ear”

Kanbina is an expression used when a word is so beautiful to hear – and the Japanese language is full of such words. It might be the way the word rolls off the tongue, the shape of the sounds, the letters it contains, the places it is used, or the meaning behind it that makes it sweet and pleasant to the ear. It can also be used to compliment someone, when they first tell us their name.

6.Jeon Wonwoo;

Wonwoo as Ma: “An efficient pause in time”

Ma is the time and space life needs to breath, to feel and connect. If we have no time, if our space is restricted, we cannot grow. Ma is the pure, and indeed essential, void between all things.Ma is about nuance. Ma describes the space in between. Ma celebrates emptiness as form. Ma is the silences, the pauses, the gaps. Ma is the empty space in a painting. Ma is the pause between music notes. Ma is the silence in between conversations.

7.Lee Jihoon;

Woozi as Furusato: “One’s hometown”

Furusato normally describes as a hometown, at its core, the word refers to the place that we feel our heart belongs. This place may not be where we were born or where we find ourselves in the present, but it’s where we feel most at home and hold in our heart. Where can rest, relax, smile, breathe and gaze upon stars comfortably. Furusato is where everything becomes gentler.

8.Xu Minghao;

The8 as Shibumi: “Effortless perfection”

Shibumi is about beauty of understanding. Direct and simple way, without being flashy. It is about a sense of effortless elegance and simplicity. It's about complete harmony, tranquility, and balance. It is "eloquent silence" and "understanding", rather than knowledge. It depicts the ability to achieve the maximum effect with the minimum means. Shibumi is a holistic approach to living that emphasises balance, and refinement. A livelihood where eloquence, silence and simplicity take precedence.

9.Kim Mingyu;

Mingyu as Koi No Yokan: “A premonition of love”

Koi No Yokan is different than love at first sight. Koi no yokan occurs when you first meet someone and know that you'll be in love later on. Although you may not be in love with them at first sight, you will be in the near future. It's a tender feeling that passes through our heart and mind after meeting someone for the first time. A feeling of "I think I've known you and I'm going to fall in love with you soon" passing us.

10.Lee Seokmin;

DK as Komorebi: “Dappled sunlight filtered through tree leaves”

Komorebi is walking through a wooded area on a sunny summer’s day and seeing beams of light shining through the canopy and the dappled effect of those beams on the forest floor. Komorebi is also the feeling of longing to be near someone who is too far away for us to visit, and missing their presence and all that it brings.

11.Boo Seungkwan;

Seungkwan as Hanagasumi: “A mist of flowers”

Hanagasumi is about the sight in springtime across Japan when it is a flurry of cherry blossom petals on the wind, so many that it appears like a haze of white and pink. Hanagasumi is the feeling and essence of spring, breathing new hopes fully, inhaling the spreading mist, leaving emptiness behind.

12.Chwe Hansol;

Vernon as Shinrin Yoku : “Forest bathing”

Shinrin Yoku is the feeling of walking among trees and nature inducing an inner sense of balance, lowering blood pressure and cortisol levels. Shinrin Yoku describes that experience, but in more spiritual terms, referring to the calm that washes over us when immersed in a forest as a return to our natural essence.

13.Lee Chan;

Dino as Ukiyo: “Floating world”

Ukiyo is a state of mind, emphasising being present in the moment and detaching one’s self from the stress and difficulties of life in order to truly live. It implies a dreamlike quality to the district, where nothing is as it seems. Ukiyo came to symbolize the Buddhist idea that life was transient, the endless cycle of rebirth, life, suffering, death, and rebirth. Ukiyo is about surviving mentally, physically, spiritually by getting detachment from the bothers of life.

[cinnbar-bun]

The Heartless Giant Pt. 5

Pairing: Crocodile x GN! Royal! Reader

Rating: SFW

Crocodile tries to discuss his dreams after getting a bit tipsy, revealing more of himself than you imagined.

WC: ~2.3k

Notes: Some mentions of abusive families (on Crocodile's end).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 AO3

Taglist: @gingernut1314 @fanaticsnail @leafyturtle @pookiesnatcher @lolom @chaoticqueen33

You can say that since that meeting with Crocodile, he has almost infected every part of your mind. You sneak down whenever you can, you daydream of him, and, like he wanted, you begin to even dream of him. He is fascinating, so alluring, so dangerous in a way that entices you like an oasis in the desert. 

You can’t deny that part of you anymore, the desire to see every part of him, to know every bit about him- it gnaws at you. Inside and out, you feel yourself wanting to be the one who gets to be his closest confidant, the one who gets to see ‘him’. The way he dangles pieces of his life to you like a carrot on a stick makes you angered, but so, so enthralled. 

Only he can mess with you in such a frustrating yet thrilling way. 

Tonight, though, he is more sentimental after you brought him a bottle of wine, something he mentioned wanting offhandedly. He doesn’t complain about your generosity either, instead, popping the cork of the bottle with his golden hook. His dark eyes never leave yours as he begins to drink from the bottle directly. 

“Tell me, your highness, what dreams do you have?” Crocodile asks with an amused look on his face. 

“Dreams?” 

“Yes, dreams. What have you wanted for so long?” He elaborates. 

“Well, I always dream of learning more. I don’t have an easy claim to the throne, nor do I have the freedom like most people below my rank would have,” you begin. “But I’m lucky to be able to have access to things many will never have. I get to take trips and have tutors from anywhere come here to teach me.” 

Crocodile chuckles in a condescending manner and takes another sip. “That isn’t really ambitious. Not for someone of your skill. Isn’t that a pity?” 

“Well what dreams do you have, since they obviously must be so much better,” you retort. 

“Me? I haven’t had a dream in years. Not since I’ve been locked in here,” he chuckles bitterly. You glance down at your lap and recognize again that you have this luxury- the luxury to dream and walk around whenever you choose. Crocodile does not. It’s deserved, especially with his admittance to his cruelty, but it is one thing that you are afforded. 

“What did you dream about before being here?” 

“Hm, well now, let’s see if I can remember them,” he hums while another swig of wine is swallowed by him. “Now, when I was a young boy, I had dreamed of escaping.” 

“Escaping what?” You raise a brow. He gestures wildly with his index finger. 

“Everything. My family was not a good one. I was raised in poverty,” he closes his eyes. “My father would be abused by his boss and worked to the bone, and when he came home, he took his helplessness out on my mother and I. He had no filter, no joy, no love- only hatred. Besides working, all he was good for was being a drunkard.” 

Your jaw drops at this confession from Crocodile, never expecting him to have gone through such a thing. You stay quiet and listen as Crocodile continues. 

“I don’t hate my father for what he did. I simply saw the truth in why he was angry and violent. He taught me something valuable about life. Without money and wealth, you are powerless. No amount of strength, knowledge, or passion can replace what money gives you. Even the biggest fool can be on the top with just the right amount of wealth.” 

“That’s simply not true,” you attempt to argue, but Crocodile glowers at you. The look makes you freeze as he narrows his eyes. 

“You can say that quite easily, can’t you? Do you even recognize the cost of this wine?” He dangles the bottle in front of you. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Exactly. This is vintage wine from a company that no longer exists. Do you understand that? This specific vineyard was blown to bits decades ago,” he explains, drinking more. “You have never had to worry a day about money, about suffering, about wondering if you have enough to eat for tomorrow. That is something you will never have to worry about.” 

You nervously look at your hands, away from Crocodile. 

“I don’t hate my father much anymore. He was a bastard, but I mostly just pity him.” 

“Why pity?” “Because, he may be a bastard, but he was an unlucky bastard. He probably died never knowing glory or excess. He never would have gotten to experience the taste of a fine cigar, or drink expensive wines, or even know what it was like to look at beautiful things. I am different from him. Not because I am not a bastard, but because, even for a brief moment, I got to experience the lap of luxury that few will ever comprehend.” 

He chuckles darkly, an unsettling laugh that makes shivers creep down your back. 

“And you think that was enough to ignore the pain he caused?” 

“It’s messed up, isn’t it? But it wasn’t my fault he wasn’t as lucky as me. Every limb I’ve lost, every scar on my body, every drop of blood I’ve bled-” he waves his hook around and traces a finger over the scar across his face. “That was luck. I should have been killed a million times over, but none have been able to slay me. He never would have been able to. He was beaten down and let himself stay a beaten dog to be used over and over.” 

You can’t find the words to say as Crocodile runs a hand through his hair, making his more ruffled and unsightly. It was clear through the slight trembling in his fingers and body he was becoming more inebriated. 

“But still, how could you say such a-” 

“Pity the fools below, your highness,” he spits. “They’re not worthy of your sympathy. People will take you down and eat you alive if you show a hint of weakness. You can hide in here, but out there? You are not safe. You never will be. You will never know peace. That’s how that world out there works, especially for us pirates.” 

You frown, letting his words sink in. “It’s despicable.” 

“What? What is despicable? Expecting the worst of others, or allowing them the chance to lead you like a lamb to the slaughter?” Crocodile smirks at your uneasy expression. He holds your chin and makes you face him. “You will not survive out there, (Y/n).” 

The way he says your name makes you freeze and lost in his empty eyes. He rarely ever uses your name, instead opting to call you ‘your highness’. But now he’s addressing you like an equal, like a normal person. 

You have no power here. 

You swallow. 

“The dreams the people outside have would make you hide away forever. They are like animals, starved for food and hungering, yearning for more. You are the bait. You have all this power and wealth, all the resources you can muster- yet you have the simplistic dream of ‘learning’? Let me teach you something important then.” 

He leans down to your level and snarls like a beast. “There a dime a dozen of those fools you call ‘heroes’. Those who believe they are strong, worthy, or even able to handle the weight of glory. They can’t. Your brothers, for example. All three get that chance to possibly rule before you? Hell, you may never see the throne either, since their children may inherit it before you. Are you really okay with those fools running your kingdom?” 

You clench your fists and look away, a feeling of guilt and disgust boiling within you. “No. I don’t like that. I never liked that.” 

“And why don’t you like that?” He smiles, knowing the reason. 

“Because it’s not fair- they don’t deserve it,” you admit quickly. All the years of jealousy, envy, and anger at the situation bursts from your throat. “They don’t know a damn thing! They don’t! They barely ever studied or listen to tutors and even our father, yet they get it first! I know I can be great! I can do good things for my kingdom- but I can’t!” 

You cover your eyes and try to refrain from tearing up in front of Crocodile. 

“There, there. See? It is unfair, isn’t it? But answer this for me. If they knew you felt like this, that you believed they were unfit to rule and that you wanted it more than them… tell me, how would they react?” Crocodile asks, his voice lowering. 

“They…” you try to think of what they would do. “I don’t know.” “That’s not true. You do know. You know they’d gang up on you. They know you can’t fight back. They’d maybe imprison you, perhaps fake your death, maybe even exile you at first chance. You allow them the benefit of the doubt that they do not deserve. You try to remain civil and fair, but the truth is, life is not fair. People like your brothers, my father, and I- well, we have ambitions. Some of us do not make it. But plenty of us will use any means necessary to get what we want. And when push comes to shove, do you truly think you will be able to fend them off? Or will you just continue to try and stay ‘fair’ towards animals?” 

“I…” you struggle. You were always taught to be fair, to be patient, to think of others so much- his line of thinking is sound but goes against everything you’ve ever know. You don’t know if you could ever face up against your brothers if they did decide to take you out. 

“I only tell you this so you do not end up foolish and weak like those I’ve known. You remain ‘chivalrous’ and you are easily taken down. When it comes to life, there are no rules or fair duels. Anything goes. Cheating, lying, stealing- they’re all part of life. Do not make yourself the one to be stolen from.” 

“And you think that this could stop me from being taken advantage of?” 

“It will. Stop settling and losing your ambition- use your resources to become the best you can be. Why not let yourself dream more? Go on, tell me a new dream, beyond what you said earlier.” 

“I… I would like to better my kingdom.” 

“How?” He demands. “Be more specific.” 

“I would like to be the one to lead my kingdom.” 

“That’s a start. But say more. I know you’re holding back.” 

You nod and steel yourself, clenching your jaw. “I want to be the ruler.” 

“More.” “I don’t want my brothers to rule.” 

“And?” 

“I want to stop being weak! I don’t want to be told I cannot do anything anymore. I’ve proven myself over and over!” 

“And who has taken away these opportunities from you, your highness? Who is the one who continues to praise you yet doesn’t change this unfair rule?” “It’s… it’s…” you tremble. “It’s my father. I have done so much. He knows I’m capable. Yet he continues to let my brothers have the first chance. It’s not right! I can do so much more, if only he would just let me and give me the chance to do so!” 

The excitement on Crocodile’s face is evident as he nods along. “Good. See? It’s good to be honest with yourself. You may love your father, but he has taken so much from you for the sake of tradition. Why don’t you finally do something about it instead of remaining passive?” Crocodile smirks. “So tell me again, what is your dream?” 

“I want to rule. I want my father to stop denying me what I deserve. I want my brothers to know that they had the chance, but they messed it up. I want to be the one who gives the orders, not just takes them!” You shout loudly. 

“And I know you can do just that. You’re too powerful to be made to submit like that. Are you an animal, (Y/n), or are you a true ruler?” 

“I’m not an animal!” You yell in confirmation. 

Crocodile chuckles quietly, gently stroking your cheek. “I know you won’t disappoint me. You will make a wonderful ruler. Just don’t listen to the beasts who try and tell you otherwise.” 

“I won’t. I won’t listen to them anymore. From now on, I’ll be stronger. I won’t let myself be taken advantage of, and I won’t let myself settle.” 

In the heat of the moment, you don’t feel the way his hand reaches for yours. He tugs it to get you to pay attention to him and you jump briefly, making him amused. 

“Heh, you need to work on your awareness. Always keep an eye open around you, your highness,” Crocodile begins, before he places his lips to your knuckles. You gasp at his brazen attitude while he chuckles again. “It’s simply my way of wishing you good luck.” 

“Thank you,” you bashfully reply. He lets go of your hand and shoos you away. 

“You have much to think about now, don’t you? Go. Rest up and tell me later what you have dreamed about. And don’t forget me. Your friendly jailbird, Crocodile, gets a bit lonely sometimes without you, your highness.” 

“I won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.” 

“Naturally. Now go give me something to smile about when you come back.”

[shtern-and-art]

ON COGS, BUTTERFLIES, AND THE NATURE OF THE SHARED DREAM

#JayvikLived and why it makes the most sense

What if saving you will doom me and the entire world, but I will still do it anyway, in every universe in every timeline, always. What if I do it again and again until I find the one where you can save me back. Because I don't want to do it without you.

---

In all timelines including the one we saw in the show, Jayce keeps fucking up, making mistakes and wrong calls. Oftentimes because of his fixation on the miracle that happened to him in his childhood. And in all timelines, in all realities Viktor keeps saving him. With that miracle.

Their recursive dream is always collapsing on itself. Viktor saved Jayce because they had the hextech dream already, and in doing so gave Jayce this dream. They are infinite in their paradox. And they managed to walk away from it only when they did it together.

Because their actual dream, the real one, was not the hextech itself, not a cog (in the system that's bringing money for the people in power), but a butterfly. A living thing. The man, not the machine.

It was never about the tech, two ways of using it, never about two sides of the cog and choosing between one or the other. It was about two wings learning to work together.

See, Jayce got his (somewhat naive) dream of saving the world because he was saved as a child. But Viktor saved him then because their dream was always, from the very start - to help and save each other.

It was the butterfly all along.

It was there when Jayce opened his eyes in the field. Not an omen of death, but of the human soul, rebirth. Of infinite consequences unraveling into the future.

---

The way the butterfly was corrupted through focusing on the technology, and the way technology eroded, reshaped itself into what it actually strives to be.

The way Jayce put hexcore into Viktor, even though it would change him, and derail his life. Even though it would doom Viktor and them both. Because Jayce couldn't do anything else. Because Jayce would love him anyway.

The way Viktor kept coming back to save Jayce when he was a child, kept giving him the crystal. Even though it would change him irrevocably, derail his life forever. Even though it would doom Jayce and them both. Because Viktor couldn't do anything else. Because Viktor loves him anyway.

And in the end we saw that holding on to that love, like a lifeline, through all the mistakes they've made along the way, can save them both from the endless cycle of death and pain.

It was affection that held them together. Held them both from breaking into pieces and losing themselves.

---

I know people keep saying that it is left ambiguous if Jayce and Viktor died, or became celestial beings together, or teleported into some other time and space. But I think it is explicitly narratively clear that they didn't die in the end.

And maybe, if Jayce left, and Viktor tried to activate the rune on his own they both would've died, yes.

But their whole story is about how they help each other choose life. Literally and figuratively. By giving inspiration, by force, by just asking. It is about the butterfly coming together, and actually flying on its own, without the magic or technology.

(mookhead_mcspazatron_ @ tiktok)

Viktor saved Jayce on the mountain and gave him his dream. Viktor took Jayce off the ledge, and gave him his dream again.

Jayce took Viktor off the ledge, when he also wanted to go. Comforted him and showed him that he can stay, even if it hurts right now. Jayce literally tore Viktor's death away from him, thrusting the new life and new fate into his hands.

And this cycle kept repeating over and over, because they refused to let each other go, yes.

But in the end Jayce clawed and tore himself to pieces to get into Viktor's soul to once again say "Your life is precious to me, no matter how bad things can get. Please see how valuable it is".

---

And this time, in this timeline, of all the possible (sometimes, I bet, deadly) purposes their rune was the rune of acceleration. Of, you know. Moving somewhere. Through time and space.

And it wouldn't have work if they didn't activate it together.

And to do it they had to, symbolically, choose to walk away. Move on. Together.

Not from life, like Jinx tried after her inner-Silco's monologue. She was wrong in thinking her death will stop the disasters she brings, it would've just added to this cycle, keeping her within it instead.

And similarly, Jayce and Viktor choosing to die, and then actually dying to save everyone would've been antithetical to everything we were told beforehand.

(And oh, one day I'll compile all my notes on Jinx-Viktor/timebomb-jayvik parallels I've been clocking since season 1. This season just polished it all into crystal clear shining thread that ties the story's themes together.)

They chose to move on from the pain, the pride, the insecurities, from everything that didn't let them choose life. Everything, that pushed them away from it and towards the ledge.

Viktor was ready to let Jayce walk away, and then throw his own life on the barricades to make up for what he has done. And Jayce said "No. You don't have to do it alone".

Viktor accepting Jayce's care and love, accepting that Jayce is staying with him, was Viktor accepting that he's worth it. That his life is worth it.

(Choosing to move on from the pain and trauma, that's what got me so strongly in the finale of the season, ugh.)

What they did wasn't a sacrifice, it was proof of life. That's what saved the world. And that's why they could only do it together.

(And with Ekko and Jinx going through the similar journey parallel to them. I'll get to that post, because fr)

Perhaps, they thought they might die. But narratively, thematically, and within their universe's established laws they actually did the opposite.

Because it was never about single individuals breaking the cycle, the wheel, the cog spinning it all. Never about one person stopping it, and saving everyone who needs it, be it through progress, through evolution, through war, or dang capitalism and politics. It was about finding the courage to trust and rely on others, to keep caring about each other. To work together like one, like two wings. To create a community, however small, that will allow you to make choices outside of the pressure the cycle of death and oppression is grinding you under. And how that brings actual meaningful change to the world, the fact that we make it happen together, and care for each other throughout.

It was about the butterfly, in the end.

P.S.

Jokes about gay situationship destroying the world and then saving it after are fun and all.

But there is SOMETHING in how it would've been so much simpler for Viktor to let Jayce die on that mountain. To let himself die of his illness later. To let the world be safe from both of them. To spare them both the pain of what will happen in the rest of their lives.

And yet Viktor comes back, and tries again and again to find a timeline where they both survive, and stay human, and don't destroy the world.

Even if it will be almost too late, even if a lot of mistakes still happen.

How about that - from the terminally ill suicidal man the world tried to convince that he's better off dead? (Yes, we're judging Heimerbitch hard in this house)

Anyways. #JayvikLived, love wins, see you all later ✨

[obae-me]

The Brothers and their Nightmares

I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!

These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.

TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.

Lucifer:

Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.

The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.

Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!

Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!

But no one ever comes.

In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.

Just a caged butterfly.

--

Mammon:

Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.

Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!

Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.

Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...

A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.

No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.

Surrounded by the Fool's gold.

--

Levi:

Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.

Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.

Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!

His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.

The bitterness eats him up from the inside.

Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.

--

Satan:

A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!

He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.

But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!

But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.

A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.

Nothing without someone else.

The poor wooden plaything will never be real.

--

Asmo:

An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!

The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.

They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!

He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.

A single fumble.

It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.

And leave him broken in shards on the floor.

--

Beel:

Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.

The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.

Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.

The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.

His wings feel far too fragile to fly.

It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.

He didn't deserve it.

--

Belphie:

There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.

It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.

Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!

His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.

The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.

And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.

[lovelyrotter]

okay but i actually kinda wanna know ur take on stridercest being canon compliant O_O <- autism stare

oh hey i am also hitting you with the autism stare. ill try to get my thoughts down in a way that makes sense to more than just me hahaha

bear in mind that im an epilogue lover and i think Meat/Candy are really valuable pieces that further all of the characters and are also hard canon in the sense that we're looking at just 2 post-game universe outcomes out of an uncountable number (the book in the picnic basket representing post-canon fanfic). i think the characters actions in the epilogues make sense and are satisfying to me. yes even jane (i love alpha jane and i will not do her the disservice of 'cleaning her up' w/o showing her work for it. thats not how you depict a character who grew up with fascist programming). i could totally go on a whole tangent about this specifically but thats another post lol we'd be here forever and its also not stridercest

but okay. canon stridercest. under the cut cause it got kinda long

basically it has to do with the cherubs and how their relationships and mating rituals are pretty obviously incestuous leaning even though cherubs dont have the human concept of Siblings or blood family. the cherub who predominates will search across paradox space to mate with another cherub who closely resembles the cherub they predominated which is like textbook Freudian sexuality. theres a lot of Freud and Jungian stuff in HS imo even if im kinda [wobbly hand gesture] at the validity of these theories applied to real life and real people. but theyre super fun tools and lenses to use in fiction and i mean. gestures at all of dave

so the incest aliens cherubs. the whole reason why im talkin about them is bc Caliborn is so incredibly interested and invested in the Striders in particular. caliborn as both Lord English and Lil Cal shapes earth NOT OVERTLY but more so embeds himself in earth society, but again, the Striders lives in particular. dave is full of incest jokes. hes even apparently got a list of his friends arranged in order of how likely theyd incest-elope with each other (thank you epilogues for this amazing factoid). he seems to think about it often enough to, yknow, Do That. have a good solid think about that and construct an organized list about it. bearing in mind dave makes jokes about stuff thats a) bothering him, or b) generally camping out in his brain. hes not even really aware of it most of the time (as we see in one of the openbounds where hes all 'why am i thinking about puppets???' after seeing dirk for the first time in that dream bubble. he is thinking nonstop about dirk at that point and going off his only frame of reference for ANY dirk, which is his bro. his bro who was most likely deeply warped by Lil Cal)

sorry for the long blocky paragraph lol. but now onto the next thing

Caliborn as Lil Cal is the centerpiece in the beta strider apartment. dave cant escape him and beta dirk grew up with him. what the fuck do you do when youre childhood comfort item is also the most evil creature across all of paradox space? if youre a dirk you try to fight it. but how long can you keep fighting something like that. its safe to say that bro was affected by Caliborns particular brand of perversion and sfw kink. i dont think i have to say how insidious abusive and toxic he is about those things. and looking at the truth of beta bro (16yo alpha dirk) you can start to see just how warped beta bro became. beta bro is a false dirk (still a very Real dirk but not the Truth of dirk. beta bro has been toxified and made infinitely worse by an absolute evil influence over decades of life. in 80s fuckin texas. presumably in the system. anyone would be fucked up after that)

so for this analysis/theory im stating beta bro as a false persona. using jungian terms he is apha dirk's shadow

both dave and dirk live with a fake, carefully manicured version of their bros. they live with personas (or shadows of their guardians on the walls. hello platos allegory of the cave). they dont actually know e/o and they dont until the striunion

alpha dirk especially grows up embedded in the Public Persona Of Dave Strider 400 years post mortem and completely alone with unlimited internet access. hes a self admitted expert on his bro and we dont get to see a lot if any of his early childhood but i can hazard a guess at how much he clung to that persona of his bro. he fuckin idolizes dave. he LOVES dave. right off the bat he is in some kind of love with dave and i think if you try to argue against that then thats you slippin. i think youre a fool and have to reread homestuck because i wholeheartedly believe the striders loving eachother is part of the win state

once again this is speculation cause we get barely anything about alpha dave, but from what we already know about him im guessing this bro-persona is

achingly effortlessly cool

oozing masculinity (toxic or not, not really interested in categorizing that although toxic coolboy masculinity IS something the striders contend with & is an important facet in their lives)

a skilled fighter

a dedicated moviegoer (hes a director need i say more. this one is probably the only genuine thing about his on-screen persona)

and now lets look at jake. someone whos grown up on pretty much nothing but movies, whos doubtlessly been influenced by hollywood and its idea of gritty 'main character' masculinity through that, and who also clings to more old-school ideas of manliness (think victorian/edwardian era gentlemanly-but-loves-a-good-scrum kinda manly. moustache twirly with a monocle kinda manly. basically everything that grandpa harley is)

but okay lets look at what jake wants to be. lets take a look at his teenager persona

achingly effortlessly cool (his own 'hollywood star' kind of cool also def influenced by his favourite characters like lara croft who is indeed achingly cool. you see him succeed in inhabiting this hollywood star persona on earth c)

oozing masculinity (the old school manly mans-man kind)

a skilled fighter (two pistoles always. harder to aim cause you cant use a free hand to make up for kickback. that takes skill)

a dedicated moviegoer (again one of the only genuine parts about his persona. his questionable-to-wretched tastes aside. but bearing in mind that the SBaHJ movies are intentionally bad which is what makes them loop around to good. such is the nature of intentionally 'bad' art. jake fuckin lives in this perpetual bad-good art loop. okay enough with the art tangent keep focused man cmon)

because dirk has obviously way more contact with jake i dont doubt he sees through jakes own (admittedly way more flimsy) coolboy persona but the point still stands i think. different flavours but the same kinda guy. dirk has a type and i dont think its a stretch to say that hes looking for aspects of the bro-persona he grew up looking at in other boys, much like the winning cherub looking for the one they lost in the cherub theyll mate with

also wtf is with dirks obvious boner for dave chasing him across paradox space to decapitate him huh?? the last few sentences in Meat are about that very thing. he wants to fuc fight dave sooo bad. haha remember how the cherubic mating ritual is one of the most violent and long running spectacles in paradox space? i sure do

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (10/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 4.5

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: I hope you enjoy. Please let know your thoughts!

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m.list | series m.list | wattpad

10 Years Ago

It was bittersweet. 

You’ve been staying over Hoseok’s apartment more than usual, refusing to leave his side. 

In four days he will be boarding a plane, moving across the world. Your mood has been on a constant shift. With every high you feel another low coming up. You’ve burst out in tears at least four times a day in the past month. Your heart feels heavy inside your chest, and everytime Hoseok looks at you for a little longer than usual, you feel your heart break. 

“What about this one?” You say over your shoulder, holding out a mug in his direction. You’ve been helping him pack up his house for the past three days. His loud apartment, stripped to something quiet, almost lifeless. 

Hoseok looks in your direction, his bangs are being held back by a Louis Vuitton headband. He’s wearing a simple black t-shirt and joggers. He looks like a dream. 

“I made that with Namjoon three years ago.” He smiles, and places the blanket he was folding into one of the boxes. “You can have it, it has our initials on the bottom.” He walks over to you and kneels down in front of you. He grabs the mug from your hands and turns it over, showing you the messy KNJ and JHS initials. 

You pout, “It’s yours. Why would you want to give it away?” You say tilting your head in confusion. 

Hoseok chuckles, placing the mug on your lap. “Namjoon broke his the second we left the shop. But I want you to have it, you’ll use it more than I ever did.” He places a kiss on your forehead before taking the seat next you, peering into the box you’ve been packing away. 

You place your head against his shoulder. “You’ve already given me like a fourth of your stuff.” 

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and reels you in closer. “This way I’m keeping all my most valuable things in the family.” He shrugs, twinkling his fingers down your arm.

You give him a small smile, “My mom is going to think I’m dating an old billionaire with all the designer things you’ve just given me for no reason.” 

“Well it's a good thing your mom loves me to pieces.” He says snaking his hand under your t-shirt and resting it on your hip. His cold palm sends a shiver up your spine. “I do have something for her.” He slowly moves his hand up, stopping just below your bra. You shudder when you feel his thumb start to caress your side. 

“She’s gotten enough presents from you.” You roll your eyes, sitting up to look up at him. 

He leans his head close. “There will never be enough presents for the woman who birthed the woman I love.” He whispers before closing the space and kissing you hard. He moves his mug to the side before pulling you to straddle his lap. 

This is exactly why it's taken three days to pack up his entire apartment. Apart from him having a lot of shit. Neither of you can take your hands off each other. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You ground your hips into his, earning a small grunt from him. “I want to do this forever.” You whisper against his lips before pushing his head closer to you. You open your mouth, letting his tongue enter, exploring the inside of your mouth while he bucks his hips up. You’re hungry for each other, and it feels good. Everything about him feels 7 he pulls away. 

His eyes are swimming in lust, probably matching your own. His hands shake, desperate to undress you like he did a few hours ago when you came back from the local bakery down the street. The croissants you had bought for breakfast were forgotten by his front door because he had woken up without you by his side and in a mood. 

“Trust me, if things were different we would be doing this forever.” He whispers, taking your shirt off. He wastes no time to unbuckle your bra. In the last few days your love making has been filled with desperate gestures. Clinging onto each other like it's the last time you will ever be seeing one another. In some ways, there is truth to those actions, but you try not to dwell on those thoughts for too long. 

“Let me go with you.” You gasp, when you feel his mouth wrap around your nipple, sucking on it, humming in delight. He pulls away, kissing up the valley of your breast, his thumb ghosting over your other nipple. 

He gives you a small grin, before pecking your lips a few times. “You know I can’t let you do that.” He says against your lips. “I want nothing more than to bring you along with me, but you deserve to be happy and that won’t be with me across the world.” He says sadly. His hands find purchase against your hips. His thumbs sneaking their way under the waistband of your black sweatpants. He plays with the lace of your panties. 

You sigh, nodding your head, bunching up his shirt in your hands. “I hate it when you’re right.” He helps you take off his shirt. You throw it to the side, smiling at the lotus tattoo on his left pec. It matches the one you have on your back right above your spine. You lean down and kiss it slowly. He lets out a sigh, before placing both of his palms against your cheeks and guiding your face to look at him. 

His eyebrows are furrowed, worry etched all over his face. “Hey, I mean it. If things were different we would be planning a wedding by now.” He says. 

You sigh, blinking fast to keep your eyes from watering. “I don’t want to talk about this right now Hoseok.” 

He caresses your cheeks. “Hey, you only call me Hoseok when something is bothering you.” He tilts his head, moving a strand of your hair behind your head. “What’s wrong?” 

“Now,” You ask curiously as you gesture at the missing clothing items and your compromising position. “Aren’t we in the middle of something?” 

“Yes now, sex can wait. Your pretty little head can be very loud sometimes, especially when you’re quiet.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, scooting closer, grinning when you feel his hard length press into your core. In typical Hoseok fashion, the man can always put his pleasure aside in the oddest moments. Though, it's something you find yourself very fond of. 

“I don’t want to break up.” You whisper, pushing your chest against his. Your hard nipples brushing over the skin of his naked chest. “What if we get into a huge fight and we never talk again. Even if you’re not here physically I still want you to be here.” You confess, pouting. 

Hoseok nods, his hands make their way into your sweat pants and he squeezes your ass, making you gasp. Also in typical Hoseok fashion, he always finds the oddest ways to have a serious conversation. You can count on two hands how many times the two of you have been in the middle of having sex, while having a serious conversation. 

He’s never voiced it, but you suspect it's his way of showing you that no matter what, his mind, body, and soul are intuned with yours. “I know, but you’re not going to lose me. No matter what, you’ll always be in my life. Even if one day we stop talking. I’ll always care about you, your well-being, and your happiness.” He slowly begins to guide your hips against his while he bucks his hips, grinding into you slowly. 

You gasp, your heartbeat begins to increase, your hands slowly move down his chest and stop at the waistband of his joggers. “I don’t want to stop talking, I want to talk to you everyday until we get sick of each other.” You move your hand into his pants. You smile when you remember he skipped out on underwear after this morning. You slowly wrap your hand around his length, squeezing him gently. 

His breath hitches, and haphazardly pulls down your sweatpants, exposing your ass and the navy blue lace panties you put on after showering this morning. “Then we will do exactly that. I’ll text and facetime you everyday until you ghost me.” He pulls your hips closer. “Now, turn around.” He slaps your ass gently, moaning your name when you rub his tip with your thumb. 

“W-What?” You lean up on your knees, while he pushes your sweatpants down, your grip on his length loosens. Your breasts are right in front of his face while he continues to undress you. He licks one of your nipples before bringing his palm down and slapping them gently. 

“Baby I want you to turn around. I you to watch yourself as I fuck you.” He demands, guiding you, turning around in his lap. You’re met with your reflection. His bedroom mirror somehow has made it out to his emptying living room. You watch while he undresses himself behind you, admiring the way your chest rises and falls. 

You look desirable. Your nipples are hard against the air. Your chest is flushed with heat. Your lips are swollen from how hard the two of you were kissing. Your eyes are dark and filled with lust. Your tummy is exposed, revealing your small rolls and the hickeys he left on you last night. The only thing you’re wearing are your panties and those do nothing to cover up your desire. 

Hoseok settles down behind you. One of his arms comes up to wrap around your waist and pulls you closer. You can feel his hardness press into the small of your back. He kisses down your neck, his fingers caressing your stomach. “You’re so sexy.” He whispers against your skin, pushing your legs apart, exposing the center of your pussy to yourself in the mirror. “Look at yourself, this is what I see every time. And every time I fall in love with you and your body more.” He moves his hand further down. His index finger settling over your wetness. 

He wastes no time as he moves your panties to the side. His fingers move up to your clit, circling it a few times before moving his fingers down your slit. He gathers your wetness. He repeats his actions a few times, your quiet moans grow louder every time he plays with you. Finally he inserts both of his fingers, making your hips buck into his hand. His other hand plays with your nipples, while his lips kiss their way up and down your neck, your chin, your shoulder.

He moves slowly at first, grinning against your skin when you start moaning his name like a prayer. He loves making you wither underneath him. You feel so good, it's over powering your body. You throw your head back in pleasure. And he stops. You whine when you feel his fingers leave your heat. Only to have his palm come down, a wet slap resounding against his empty walls. “Don’t close your eyes, watch yourself babygirl.” 

You moan loudly, bucking your hips. He presses your hips against his and inserts his fingers again. His pace is unrelenting. His dirty whispers get louder. You're moaning so loud, that you’re thankful for the soundproof walls. 

You can’t deny it, watching yourself is turning you on even more now. You’re a withering mess against him. Your cheeks are red, there’s a few sweat droplets gathering at your hairline. Your body is starting to glisten with sweat as well. You look so fucked out that you begin to understand why Hoseok was adamant at taking a few pictures of you in this state a few months ago. 

You look sexy as fuck, and somehow this is the most empowering thing you have ever had happen to you. 

“Let me cum please.” You gasp, when his other hand comes down. His finger starts playing with your clit. You’re a wet squelching mess, and it takes everything inside Hoseok to not stop in order to drink you.

“Do it, show me how hard you cum for me.” His length is so hard that it’s leaking against your back. And it makes your mouth water. You want to wrap your lips around him until he releases himself down your throat. But he never lets you, only a few times. He prefers pleasuring you than himself. He says there’s nothing sexier than you coming around his tongue. 

And with how much of a mess he’s making out of you. You can’t help but agree. 

He takes his fingers out and slaps your pussy a few times, before inserting his fingers again. This time adding a third. Your hole is gapping open, clenching with every single movement he does. The pressure builds up in the pit of your stomach, until finally you lose control. Cumming hard, moaning his name in a scream. You gush around his fingers, pushing him out. He continues to rub your clit, whispering praises into your ear as you continue to ride your high. 

It’s so dirty. It’s so sexy. You want to relive every single moment you have like this for the rest of your life. 

You whimper, withering with over stimulation and he stops. Kissing your cheek gently, then your temple and finally your lips. He kisses you softly before pulling away. “You always do so good for me.” He grins. 

“I want more.” You whine. 

He chuckles, bringing his wet fingers up to your mouth. You take them, swirling your tongue, moaning at your own taste. “You will get more. Just wait.” He promises. 

A promise that he doesn’t break for the next three hours.

So much for packing. 

You’ve never experienced a goodbye that hurt. Until you watched Hoseok walk through the security gates at the airport with tears welling up in his eyes. It was the only time in your relationship that you wanted to tell him to throw away everything he’s ever worked for to stay here with you. 

Your chest hurts as you watch the back of his head slowly disappear through the crowd of people. Your lungs were on fire when he didn’t look back, even if you had him promise not to do so. A little part of you still hoped that he would break that promise to tell you he loved you one last time. 

He didn’t, and the months you shared with Jung Hoseok were officially over. 

That realization led you to your breaking point. If it wasn’t for the two arms that were wrapped around your shoulders in comfort. You would’ve fallen to the floor in tears. 

Jungkook, the person you never expected to befriend, held you tightly. He lets you grip on his arm and use his sleeve to wipe away your tears. But your sobs were painful, and he quickly brought you into a hug, leaving a sweet kiss on top of your head. 

“You can stay with us until you feel better.” He whispers, patting your back in comfort. “You can help Joon and I unpack.” He suggests. You know he’s only offering because it will help keep you busy.

Coincidentally Namjoon and Jungkook moved into their new place last night. You helped them unload the truck along with Hoseok and Jimin but for some reason Namjoon refused to unpack. The four of you sat on their living room floor eating pizza and fried chicken, no alcohol because Jungkook is on a diet. 

Hoseok held onto you the entire night. He refused to let you go and out of his line of sight. He kissed everywhere that was appropriate in front of your friends. You tried your hardest to memorize his smell and the timbre of his voice. Knowing that one day as time passes, you will forget. 

“Okay,” You choke out pulling away from his embrace. Namjoon has been standing to the side, hands in his pocket, his eyebrows furrowed. He hasn’t spoken a word to you since last night after he came back from a smoke break with your boyfriend–ex boyfriend. 

“Let’s go then.” Jungkook unravels his arms from your shoulders. Shoots a look towards his brother. A silent acknowledgment between the two and the older turns on his heels and leaves. 

“Is he okay?” You whisper, watching his back walk through the airport and exiting. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook starts, “He will be, he’s just a little confused.” 

You turn your head quickly to face your best friend, a raised eyebrow in question. “About what?”

“I have no idea, he won’t tell me the reason.” 

A reason neither of you will find out about for years.

You don’t further the subject, wiping away your tears on your sleeve. You don’t want to walk out of the airport yet. You want to stay until Hoseok’s plane leaves. Even if he won’t leave for the next two hours. You will keep your feet planted until you watch his plane disappear through the clouds in the sky. 

Though you’ve gotten closure from Hoseok. After you left your friend's apartment last night. The two of you sat in his car in the parking lot talking of a McDonald’s, essentially breaking up. A wound that burned so bright it could light up the missing ‘l’ of the fast food sign. 

Jungkook squeezes your shoulder and guides you towards the exit. With every step you feel your heart break more and more. The cherry on top is when you feel your phone vibrate before you finally step through the automatic doors of the airport. 

You fish it out quickly. Thea name on your screen tugs at your heartstrings, creating a bittersweet melody. 

My Sunshine 

You don’t hesitate to open the text. It takes everything in you to not turn around and run past TSA to kiss Jung Hoseok one last time. But the text on the screen is enough. It’s the final line of your book with him and the line you will find yourself going back to whenever you miss him. Until the day that you don’t. 

I will always love you.xx

“Okay you’re being annoying now.” Taehyung says as he storms into your room. You haven’t left your room for the last two weeks. 

Jimin has come to visit you to cheer you up. The two of you watched the entire Star Wars Franchise in just three days. Jungkook keeps sending you memes through text. Taehyung has been trying to persuade you to go out with him to find a rebound. And the only person you want to cry to has been ignoring your entire existence.  

Namjoon has been ignoring you. 

Jungkook says he’s going through his own set of emotions, so you’re not upset. You just hope that he still wants to be your friend. 

Two losses in a month is not something you need right now. 

“What are you doing here?” You say bringing your duvet over your head. Taehyung has been here for two hours, except in those two hours he’s been downstairs talking to your mother and brother. You’re pretty sure your mother had him do odd jobs with your brother until he could finally get away. 

Taehyung gets a hold of your duvet and pries it off your body. A frustrated noise leaves your mouth as you sit up slamming your hands on top of your mattress. “Has anyone told you that you’re the most annoying person on this fucking planet.” You say crossing your legs underneath you. 

“Yes, actually. At this point I take it as a compliment. Now get up.” He rolls his eyes, opening your closet, throwing you the first shirt he gets a hold off and a pair of jeans. “Get changed before I change you myself.” 

You throw the shirt back to him. “No, get out.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes and kneels on your bed. He grabs your waist and hoists you up. It surprises you for a second because when did your childhood best friend get so strong? 

“Let me go Tae or I won’t talk to you anymore. I’m so serious about this.” You yell. He ignores your fussing and walks out of your bedroom into your shared bathroom with your friend. The latter standing next to his bedroom door, a smirk on his lips. “Help me idiot.” You yell. Your brother simply shrugs and walks into his bedroom. 

Taehyung sets you down in the shower, turning on the water. The icy cold catches you off guard, and you scream in frustration. “Now you have no choice but to get ready.” He pushes aside your anger, closing the glass door in front of you. Leaving you seething and wet. 

“I’ll bring your clothes. We are going out tonight.” 

You grumble, pulling down on your black mini dress as you follow your so-called best friend through the club street of your home town. 

In the last two hours you’ve found out that all of your friends including your mother have conspired against you. All of them have secretly planned a night out in order to get you out of your self-wallowing pity hole. Taehyung who wakes up to choose violence everyday is the one to execute the final step of their plan. 

It’s annoying. You’re beyond angry, but your mom made it pretty clear that you weren’t allowed to come back until you went to at least one club. 

So here you are. Following Taehyung in a dress you bought years ago but never wore because it was out of your comfort zone. Apparently Jungkook, Jimin and Jimin’s girlfriend Lia are already waiting outside the first club. 

“Let’s go princess.” Taehyung snaps his fingers. You roll your eyes, hitting his hand away. 

“I’m not a dog Tae.” You spit out, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Why did you ever buy this dress in the first place? Sure, it was cute, and a spur of the moment purchase, but you should’ve known better.

Taehyung sighs, catching up to you and snakes an arm around your shoulders tugging you into his side. “I know this is the last thing you want to do.” He starts halting your movements and turning you to face him. 

“Can you blame me Tae, it literally hurts to breathe sometimes.” You choke out, blinking back tears. Crying before the club is worse than crying inside the club. You have no lights or music to distract the bystanders from witnessing your breakdown. 

“We know princess, but the last thing Hoseok would want is for you to put your life on pause.” 

“D-Don’t say his name, please.” You whisper, looking down at the dirt floor. Your chunky black heels have attracted mud while you walk through the streets, and you wish you would’ve begged harder for Taehyung to let you wear your sneakers. 

Taehyung sighs, and brings you in for a hug. “I know it’s hard. But just one club try to enjoy yourself for at least an hour. You love dancing, let it all go and just dance with me tonight.” He whispers, rubbing your shoulders. 

You hate that a part of you agrees with him. You hate that he’s right about Hoseok wanting you to move on from him. But you’ve never fallen so hard for someone before. You’ve never known what it's like to love until him, and it’s hard to just forget. Still, rotting in bed is not the answer to all of your life's problems. Neither is clubbing, but your friends have different ways of coping with hard situations. 

“Fine, just one club.” 

You should’ve known better. 

One club always meant three clubs. One drink always meant five drinks. 

The lights are blinding, and your black mini dress is sticking to your skin from all of the sweat. Your waterproof mascara has forgotten that it’s waterproof. Your feet are so numb that you can’t feel your toes. But you haven’t thought about your break up and your sadness in the past four hours.

Taehyung’s hands are on your hips as he guides you to the beat of the music. You’ve been stuck to his side the entire time. Nothing more than a playful feeling brewing between the two of you. It’s platonic. It doesn’t mean anything, and it feels good to just let loose after such a long time. 

You look around the emptying club, spotting Jimin and Lia making out in the corner. Jungkook is talking up a girl by the DJ booth. You do feel almost bad that you’ve hogged Taehyung the entire night. You’re sure he wants to chat up the girls that have been sending you death glares the entire night. But Taehyung is loyal. He always has been and he promised he’d stay by your side the entire night. 

“I’m going to go get some water.” You say into Taehyung’s ear, yelling above the music so he can hear you. He sheepishly looks at you and nods his head. 

His hands drop down to his side, and he leans into your ear. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He slurs. You give him a thumbs up and walk around his body towards the bar. You approach the bar, stumbling through the bodies blocking your way. When you finally make it to your destination, you sit on one of the barstools. 

You lean your chin on top of the palm of your hand, watching the bartender waiting for him to finally acknowledge your existence. He doesn’t come fast enough because you’re soon distracted by a tap against your shoulder. You turn around, locking eyes with soft brown eyes and a sweet smile. The man is beautiful, straight out of a magazine editorial, but there’s something familiar about him. You aren’t sure if it’s his laid-back style or the swoop of his hair, but you’re positive that you’ve seen him before. 

Maybe in your dreams?

Or maybe the alcohol in your system is causing the delusion to come up to the surface. More evidence that you need water. So, you ignore his presence and turn to face the bar. He does the opposite and takes the empty seat next to you. You blink at him, opening your mouth to say something, but he stops you. 

“Is that your boyfriend?” He says, pointing behind you. You follow his finger, your eyes landing on Taehyung, talking to some girls right outside of the bathroom. You smile, turning to face the stranger again. 

“No, he's my friend.” You shrug. 

The stranger nods, before holding his hand out in a handshake. “In that case, I’m Ian.” 

You don’t know what comes over you. But you take his hand, “Nice to meet you Ian.” You introduce yourself. A mistake you’ll one day regret at a coffee shop with Namjoon and matching red rimmed eyes. 

The beginning of your fall from grace.

But how would you have known? Getting back on your feet was the whole purpose of this night.

Right?

a/n: I hope you all understand who the last character introduction is if you remember the whole premise of the story lmao. But this is our last chapter in the past. We will be going back to the present!

[magpiepills]

Kill Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ only, MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 10k

Summary: Alone on the green, you’re ambushed by a stranger. Defenseless, you have no choice but to put your trust in him.

I’m combining three parts into one. Sort of. It’s long. Take a break if you need to. This was originally posted 11/22/23. I’m rebuilding my masterlist, so feel free to skip this if you already saw it the first time.

Warnings: Smut, porn with plot, bit of angst? Oral (f receiving) fingering, weapons, minor violence, dubious consent, masturbation, pet names, homemade sex toy, butt stuff, unprotected PIV, oral, fingering, spitting, dirty talk, bondage, doubled penetration, misuse of valuable root pesrls, teasing, thigh riding, masturbation, etc., etc., so on and so forth. No use of y/n, I’ve tried to make sure the reader is not racially coded, and that physical descriptions are limited to the type of genitals the reader has.

A word from the author: well it’s here! My baby! The story I’ve wanted to write for months and worried over and dreamed of and wouldn’t be quiet about is done. I know tomorrow I’ll think of things I should have put in that I didn’t, that I’ll go back and find typos, that people may not like it, but this has made me happy. This is my birthday present to myself and this fic has been a very useful distraction from some pretty heavy things. I’ve got a soft spot for this fic. I have a soft spot for Ezra. I love him. I love Prospect. I loved getting to spend time there as I wrote. Many thanks to all my magic sluts for the love and encouragement and for reading this shit. I love you.

ACT I: Fool’s Gold

Maybe you should have taken your grandmother's advice. “Nothing out there for a girl on her own. Just trouble. Won’t be worth it.” She had said, shaking her head. You could hear the weariness in her voice even as she sat wringing her hands on another planet. You knew she was right. Nothing could stop you though, not when your mind was made up. You’re a stubborn woman in a long line of stubborn women, and both of you knew that no amount of good sense would keep you from sinking all of your savings into a second hand environmental suit, a new laser scalpel, and a deposit on a parcel class drop pod that looked like it may not make it past Central in the first place. You scavenged for the rest of the equipment, building a small cache of slurry packs, a few refreshers, enough chem to extract several cases worth of the rare gems you sought, and borrowed a thrower. It was folly at best, elaborate suicide at worst and most likely. But what was the saying? “No guts, no glory?” Maybe it was best not to think of your guts right now. Maybe “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” was more apt. It didn’t really matter now, anyway. Nothing mattered after his first words pierced the peaceful bubble of your harvest.

“Don’t move.”

You froze, knelt on the soft, damp earth. Your knees grew cold and wet, elbow deep in the shallow cavern where the aurelac spread below the surface. The raspy voice crackled through your ear piece, stilling your heart, slowing your blood.

You didn’t need to see the weapon to know what was pressed against the back of your neck. The weight of the metal held you in place. You closed your eyes, and resigned yourself to your fate, readying yourself to meet Kevva much more readily than you thought possible. You’d like to have fought back, but you couldn’t reach your own side arm, it lay uselessly next to your scalpel and the bottle of fazer that, tipped into the cavern below, would surely kill you both. “Don’t even think about going for that thrower, either.” The voice was so casual, threatening your life like he was reading the weather report. You did as he said, accepting defeat, hoping your life and your harvest was all he wanted. There are worse ways to die than choking on the dust. “Gooooood,” he purred, “Now lay on your belly. Don’t try anything.”

Again you obeyed, but before you were settled on the ground, his boot connected with your hip, sending you rolling to your back with a yelp. Before you could get your bearings, his boot was on your chest, enough weight behind it to hold you down, compressing your sternum uncomfortably. From this angle, you could appreciate how beautiful the green moon was, soft pinkish-blueish clouds diffusing across the sky where Bakhroma was setting. Dust floated up and for a while you could forget that it was poisonous. You stared up at the sky and the canopy of green until the sunlight on his rail gun caught your eye. You stared down the engraved barrel, waiting for him to shoot you, or worse. Whatever he was going to do, you wished he’d just do it.

You grabbed feebly at him, hoping that if you put up more of a fight he would do something or say something, but he didn’t. What was he waiting for? It was infuriating and terrifying to wait while a stranger decided what to do with your life. You wanted to yell, to tell him off, to beg, but when you finally looked at him, all the words escaped. His visor was scratched and pitted, his suit was ill fitting and dirty, but his eyes were big and sad and desperate. His lips were parted, as if he were as speechless as you were.

His aim faltered almost imperceptibly, and he furrowed his brow. “Looks like I’ve got a rabbit in my garden.” Your anger boiled back up and you dug your nails into his calf as best you could through his insulating layers. Your efforts were in vain and he chuckled. “Not a rabbit. A pussycat.” You wanted to scream. Finally he shifted his weight and moved his foot so that he was standing above you, straddling your hips, his grip in the thrower more relaxed. “What’s in the case, pussycat? Show me.” He tilted his head toward your aurelac case, only half filled with your spoils. “Go on. Let’s see what you’ve got. Easy.” He stepped back, giving you room to get up. You took your first full breath since his shadow first fell on you, then unlocked the case and shoved it toward him.

Eyes sparkling, he silently tabulated the value of your pull. You hoped he would just take the case and run, that would be the best case scenario. You could still get home, prove your grandmother right, lick your wounds, and find an honest job back on the Pug. Forget this disaster ever happened. Try to find another way to pay off the debt of the wrecked and destroyed pod.

“You harvest all this yourself?” He asked, and you weren’t able to determine what answer might be safest. Do you tell him you’re alone? Pretend you’ve got a whole crew waiting for you on the other side of the ridge? Before you could decide which tack to take, he continued. “Haven’t seen anyone in this sector in some time now. No landers, either. You’re alone, I reckon. You got a camp?” Resigned to whatever fate awaited you, you shook your head. You didn’t have a camp. You had a tent that you put up every night and took down every morning, counting on your impermanence to offer some safety. Fat lot of good that did. You chest was suddenly tight and tears welled in your eyes faster than you could blink them back. “It’s not safe out here for a girl on her own.” The irony of his warning did nothing to stem your crying. He looked away, out of disgust or pity or embarrassment for you, you didn’t know. You wished you could wipe your face.

After a humiliating moment, he spoke again. “Alright.” He gestured around at your meager equipment with the barrel of his thrower, “Get your kit. You’ll come with me.”

“No.” You said, not sounding half as sure of yourself as you’d hoped you would.

He raised his eyebrows at you and lifted the thrower again, careful not to point it right at you this time. “I wasn’t askin’, pussycat. You’re alone, you can harvest, and now you’re coming with me. This is the best case scenario for you. Move.”

The image of your scattered bones, covered in moss and ferns, little yellow flowers sprouting between your ribs flashed in your mind as you packed your things. All the things but the aurelac, which the man with the gun held onto.

He gestured toward an opening in the woods, “Ladies, first.” Chivalry is alive. You trudged in silence, following a path so lightly treaded you could barely see it.

The air was thicker, heavier with motes of poison dust than it seemed to be when you were alone. It gave you a sense of hopelessness and dread. A heaviness in your chest that you hadn’t known even when you found yourself lost in the dense forest. Your captor never fell out of step, always right behind you with his rail gun trained at your side, your case of aurelac banging against his leg as he picked carefully through the woods. He talked as he walked, introducing himself simply as “Ezra” and lamenting the dust, cursing his equipment, pointing out things in the landscape that were supposed to be of interest, but failed to pull you away from your singular focus of trying to remember your path. Your eyes darted around, looking for any anomaly in your surroundings, anything you could use to find your way back somehow. “Back when these hills were full of raiders…” his voice droned on, “There was a fella that went by Alam that used to…” on and on for what felt like hours while your skin itched under your wet clothes. “Here it is. Home, sweet home. Doesn’t look like much, but it is adequate for the savvy returner.”

Ezra stood before a tattered and faded tent, obscured by vegetation and dust that had collected along the seams. You would have walked right past it if he hadn’t guided you here. He unzipped and quickly ushered you inside with a hand on your back. Zipped back in, he turned on a space filter, it popped and whirred for a moment before Ezra began tossing aside his helmet and undoing the snaps and fasteners of his suit. He must have seen the panic on your face as he undressed. “You can take the cot on the right.” His voice was careful, and he turned away from you as he shrugged out of his suit, leaving him in a long sleeved white shirt and gray thermal pants that fit snugly to his legs. “There’s a refresher in the back if you want to clean up, and whatever you want for supper as long as it’s Pastors Henry.” Ezra smiled warmly and you nodded, acknowledging his hospitality without a word.

You sat on the creaking cot and removed your helmet, then rummaged through your pack for clean underclothes before closing the refresher curtain around yourself to finish undressing. You felt more naked than ever before, more vulnerable with only the curtain between you and your unwanted companion, but it did feel good to wash off the sweat and grime from your body and hair. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to bathe without needing to hold your helmet and filter tube while you swabbed at yourself with a damp cloth.

When you emerged, fresh and dressed, you found Ezra sitting on his own cot with your aurelac case on his knee, admiring your haul with a small loupe.

He looked up and allowed himself only the quickest glance over your body before settling on your eyes. “This is excellent work. Near master level harvesting. Look. Nary an imperfection. Did you really do all this yourself?”

Without his helmet on, standing this close to him, you could hear him wheezing as he breathed. You could see the delicate curve of his nose and the silvery scar on his cheek, the shock of white in his uncombed hair above his temple that made him look right at home on the untamable moon.

“I did. Taught myself, wasn’t always so good.”

He passed you a pouch of slurry, bumping his own against yours before taking a hearty swig.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“Same as you, I imagine. Trying to make my fortune before the BG line shuts down for good. Thought it was worth the risk. Thought I could make enough to spend the rest of my life on Lao. Thought wrong.” Your voice dropped and you studied your hands in your lap at the last sentence, embarrassed at the accusation against the man who was feeding you dinner and giving you a bed to sleep on, even if you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“It’s dangerous out there.” He said, not for the first time. “There are still raiders, kips, only desperate men left now that the rush is past. And that’s only the men, Pussycat. Do you understand? I think we could help each other. I’ve got the equipment, the chem, and the weaponry. I just need your steady hand. I can keep you safe, girl. You’d be top hand. We could be rich.” You met his gaze, but didn’t speak, waiting for him to continue. “I know you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either, but I want you to consider my offer. An equal partnership for a limited engagement.”

It sounded too good to be true. If Ezra was willing to help you harvest, take care of the details so you could make the extractions and offer some protection, it might not be so bad to take one more risk.

The soothing cadence of his voice let you imagine the possibilities he was presenting. It lulled you, gave you time to study the thick vein on the side of his neck, the wide expanse of his shoulders, the strength of his thighs, and the thickness of his paddle-like hands. You didn't doubt he could protect you, but for a fraction of a second, you thought of other ways he might help a girl who was all alone. As quick as the thought came, you chided yourself. This man had just held you at gunpoint, he may yet kill you in your sleep. This was no time to think of meeting any needs but survival. Even if it had been a stand or two since you knew the comfort and pleasure of that particular human touch.

“Let me sleep on it. We can’t do anything tonight anyway.”

He nodded and hummed. Your lingering gaze hadn’t gotten past him. He knew the look well. He ran his hands slowly from his thighs to his knees, a casual thing, but he hoped to tap into whatever you’d seen when you’d let your eyes rove over him.

“A judicious measure. We will let it simmer and come back to it in daylight. I’m going to hit the refresher myself, I can’t be good company filthy as I am.”

•••••

In the narrow refresher stall, Ezra stripped off his clothes, eager to wash away the sticky layer of sweat that clung to him, anxious to run his hands over his body under the tepid stream of recycled water. He thought of you, how close he was to dispatching you, a lone prospector, until you were on your back and he was close enough to see a much bigger picture. His ship, his gems, a way off this forsaken moon. It seemed too easy, too perfect. And now? The unmistakable gleam in your eye added an extra layer to the whole scheme, an auspicious twist in his designs.

Following the trail of water running down his chest and belly, his hand found his cock half hard. He tipped his head back with a heavy sigh, and stroked himself. He thought of the fear in your eyes, thought of how easily you obeyed him, how your thin tank top did nothing to hide your pebbled nipples. He imagined you on your knees, or under him, the sounds you’d make for him when he filled you with his cock. Close to release, he squeezed the base of his cock hard, staving off his orgasm, letting the moment slip away. For so long he believed he might never see another woman. The green is all but abandoned, but even when the rush was at its peak women were scarce. The green moon is harsh and unforgiving, the poisonous atmosphere seemed suited only to the foolish, the reckless, and the criminal. Here you are through, not just on the moon, but in his tent, on his cot, and ripe for the taking.

•••••

While Ezra freshened up, you sat on the little cot, repacking your harvesting kit, making sure nothing was broken when you hastily packed. He hasn’t been unkind. Not really. You knew that prime territories on the green moon used to be fought over, and that people died when they harvested in someone else’s dig. You’d assumed that since the green was mostly abandoned now that would be a thing of the past, but maybe you’d been wrong. Could you really blame him for defending his claim? Maybe you’d have done the same thing if you were him. Your shoulders relaxed a bit. This could work, you thought. You hadn’t planned on having a partner, but if you were both lonesome out here and you could team up for mutual benefit, why not? And it didn’t hurt that he was handsome. You’d keep your guard up, of course, but what harm could come from an alliance?

If your mind wasn’t made up to accept his offer, it would have been when he stood at the end of the tent, bathed in the orange light of the singular lantern illuminating the small space. Wearing only a pair of snug black undershorts, he was a vision. In his suit he looked scrappy, but like this he looked more virile. Broad at his shoulders and narrow at his hips, he cut a fine figure. You didn’t mean to stare, but it was as if he had his own magnetic field drawing you in. Sheepishly he sat on his own cot. “I’ve only got the one set of clothes. Never bunked with a woman in the crew like this before, I hope you don’t mind.”

You shook your head and he leaned back on both hands, smiling. “I’ve got to wash my clothes,” he explained, “you might as well throw yours in too.”

You only had one spare set of clothes, the thin tank top and leggings you wore and the warmer set that you had under your suit. It could all use a wash. Before you could list the pros and cons of your actions, before you could consider the outcome if this didn’t go like you thought it might, you stood up. You fetched the first set of clothes, then hesitated only a second before taking off what you had on. “Might as well start with everything fresh.” You smiled at your new partner.

Ezra exhaled roughly, not hiding the way his eyes wandered over your naked body. You bundled all your clothes together, crossed the short distance to the other side of the tent. He watched you in silence, chest rising and falling, breath catching on every inhale, cock responding instantaneously. “Might as well.” He agreed. One pointed downward flick of your eyes had him stripping off his final layer of modesty as well.

The snap might have been audible. You couldn’t tell. It could have been his patience, or it could have been the saturation sensor on the air filter. Once his lips were on yours it didn’t really matter. His kiss was suffocating and urgent. He held you tight, right arm banded around your waist, trapping his hard cock between your bodies, wetting your stomach with the sticky fluid he wept. His left hand cradled the back of your head, holding you just how he wanted you, you were dizzy with his kiss.

You melted into his embrace, his scent, his sounds, his radiating heat. You let him guide you onto his cot, onto the blanket that smelled like him. “Ezra” you whined, needing him to give you something to meet an intangible need that was thrumming in your core.

“Mm.” He mouthed against your neck and ear, across your collarbone, scratching your skin, leaving a tender path where his lips had been. “What are the odds, little pussycat? What are the odds that I found you here? Maybe the last two people on this moon. All of time and space, and I’m here with you, pretty girl.”

His words made your face feel warm and your heart pound harder. They hung heavy in the air around you as he shifted down the little bed, propping himself on his elbows to cup your breasts, gently squeezing them in his warm palms. He licked and sucked at your nipples, marveling at how they hardened, shiny with his spit, he blew across them, sending a chill up your spine that made you arch up into him.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be here.” His words were whispered against your stomach as he sank down further, “need to be looked after.” He kissed and licked the tender skin below your belly button. “Need me to take care of you, don’t you?” His voice was so soft and hypnotic. Your eyes met and he didn’t drop your gaze as he kissed your mound, your thighs, making your breath hitch when his tongue dipped into your slit. Ezra groaned at the taste of you, at how wet you were, how pliant to his will.

“Ezra” was the only language you spoke, slurring it as you threaded your hand through his hair, stroking the little patch of white with your thumb while his own was slipping up and down through your folds, spreading your slick over every velvet ripple. You rolled your nipple between your fingers and felt as if you were being taken up a mountain, up and up and up he pushed you, each lick, each kiss a step closer to the peak, every breath and coo, every word of praise and pity brought you higher. His fingers found your entrance and pushed inside, making you cry out into the dim light of the stuffy tent.

Ezra watched with his cheek on your thigh as you rocked your hips against his hand, searching for release. He could do this thing all night, making you a boneless little mess, making you cry just for him, he liked the power. He wasn’t a cruel man, though, and he showed you how merciful he was when he returned the flat of his tongue to your clit then sucked the swollen bud between his lips and he curled his fingers inside you, sending you over the edge of unmatched pleasure.

Cum dripped over Ezra’s knuckles as he watched you ride out your orgasm, and he considered bringing his hand to your mouth to see if you’d lick it clean, but he thought better of it, wiping it on his blanket instead. Another time, he thought. How he would love to see your pretty face painted up with his seed.

•••••

“Do you think this was meant to happen, Ezra?” You asked him, nipping at his chin as he held you, tucked against his chest on your cot. “Were we destined to find each other out here?”

You felt his warm breath against your hair as he thought. “I think the stars aligned in our favor, and fortune is all but assured.”

Sleep came easily in Ezra’s strong arms, safe and secure, knowing tomorrow would be a new start.

ACT II: Wild and Woolly

Daylight didn’t look much different from night in Ezra’s tent. Light filtered in through the leaves of the trees and the accumulated dust just enough to let you know that the sun had risen. The soft orange glow isn’t what woke you, though.

It was the heavy weight on your back, hot and crushing, it wrapped around you as you slept half on your stomach. As your groggy mind filled in the details of the last day, you felt the weight shift and wheeze. Ezra. He wasn’t a dream. He was real and he was here and he was nearly on top of you. With every movement his grip around you tightened. One arm was under your neck, with a hand anchored to your shoulder, the other was around your waist, fingers tucked posessively into the front of your panties. You couldn’t tell if he was awake yet, so you stayed still, hoping he would stay just like this a while longer.

You grew wetter while you tried not to move, savoring the tension, feeling the firm length of him on your thigh, listening to his ragged breathing. It would take so little to just shift over a bit and let it rest between your thighs. Your mind wandered to distant times and places, places where the two of you had pulled every bit of aurelac from this miserable place, socked away a fortune beyond your wildest dreams, and lived together forever, indulging in every possible pleasure. You thought of how he might look with the juice of some exotic fruit dripping down his chin as you sat astride him, jewels even rarer than the ones you’d found all hung about your neck, his cock inside you, deep as he could get, drawing orgasm after shaking orgasm from each other on the plushest bed money could buy. Two hedonists, drunk on their spoils.

You imagined what his cock might look like. It felt heavy against you now, but was it thick? Was he uncut? What did he look like when he took it in his own hand? Would he look into your eyes while he worked his length with familiar strokes until he made himself come? Would he bite his lip or would he moan? The image you crafted of him with cum dribbling over his knuckles, onto the drab green of his environmental suit made you clench. Suddenly, seeing how he looked when he came was the most important thing you could think of. Damn the aurelac.

“What are you dreaming about?” He murmured against your neck, snapping you suddenly from your daydream. “It must be good, the way you’re twitching.” When you didn’t answer he rocked his hips into you. “Want to know what I dreamed about? Hm? I dreamed about a lake. It was dark and deep and I could feel it callin’ to me until I walked into it. I couldn’t swim though, and I was about to drown until I felt you bucking into me.” That hand that was slipped into your underwear was cupping your mound now, fingers flat against your slit, giving you enough pressure to let you know he knew exactly what he was doing to you, that devil. His lips brushed against your ear as he dropped his voice even lower, “What do you think it means?”

The tent was stifling. Too hot to think, too close to him. You stammered, unable to formulate any logical response. The question forgotten, Ezra pushed into you, grinding his cock harder against the plush of your ass as his hand slipped lower, dipping into your wet folds to spread your slick messily over your pussy, making circles with his flattened fingers. Twice he circled your entrance before returning to your throbbing clit, teasing you with the promise of more, making you whine and cant your hips into his touch before he pulled his hand back, sucking his wet fingers into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of satisfaction and smack of his lips. Obscenity was second nature to him, it seemed.

“Guess we will have to think on it. Get suited up. Time to go find our paydirt.” With a gentle smack to your ass with his wet hand, he stood and went about his routine, packing his kit, scrubbing filters, cleaning his rail gun, and fastening his helmet on. You watched as he busied himself, not daring to finish what he had started, even if you could feel your heart beating in your core.

Trudging back through the thick vegetation, you listened to Ezra breathe and murmur his promises to you. You walked a few paces ahead of him and he covered you from behind, admiring the way the curves of your ass and hips filled out your suit. They weren’t made for figures like yours, and he was grateful to get to watch how you strained against the thick material. He dreamed of peeling it back off you and memorizing your shape with his hands, that he might be able to remember how you felt one day after you’re gone, when he’s alone in the tent, fucking his hand and dreaming of the lost girl of the green.

For what felt like hours you trekked through the forest, dispassionately studying the moss, the ferns, the vines, the flora and fauna of this strange place with the poison dust that glittered all around you. You ambled along as Ezra prattled on about his crew, his ship, his trials and tribulations, exaggerated for dramatic effect you were sure. It didn’t matter, because you liked his voice. It was so rich and thick, and his inflection and cadence made everything so much more exciting. His foreign drawl was a viscous thing that washed over you, warmed you, disarmed you. It was an elixir he administered with practiced precision for maximum effect. He knew exactly the dose to put you under his spell.

When you make it to a small clearing, you see the telltale signs of an aurelac deposit, the earth just slightly raised in small clusters. Anyone with an untrained eye would have noticed nothing out of the ordinary, but you and Ezra spotted it immediately. Excitement hummed between you when your eyes met his, dark and shining.

“Look At this. Look at this!” He dragged out the last syllable, rocking back on his heels, he had to stop himself from diving in, extirpating the first heavy node on his own. He took a breath. You’d been cautious, moving slowly and quietly, checking your channels and covering your tracks as you hunted a nest of the fabled root pearls. It was easier to work with a partner, you had to admit. Alone you always had one eye out for danger, and both hands in the ground. Clearly your system wasn’t foolproof, as Ezra had managed to catch you unawares. It still stung to remember your failure. It hurt to know you really couldn’t do it on your own. How few cycles had it taken for this man to find you and take you for his own, to decide for you that you needed him? There was no time to rehash your mistakes, though. You’d wear them with pride.

Ezra paced, checking vantage points around you as you set up. He reminded you of a panther, with his eyes focused and his movements smooth and sure. Your body responded to him, breath quickening and pussy clenching around nothing. You watched and admired how easily he commanded this place that to you seemed untamable, unknowable, so liable to chew you up if it just had the chance. Ezra just made himself at home here. Determination took hold in your chest. Letting your hips sway more than was absolutely necessary, you went about your own unsophisticated routine for setting up your dig. Your laser scalpel, fazer, forceps, diffuser,and tray were arranged on the ground and you were ready.

At Ezra’s assurance that the way was clear, you began the intensive process of harvesting aurelac. First reaching into the ground and locating a node, then clicking on your scalpel to open its fibrous husk. Carefully, you dissolve the membrane inside, and feeling the weight of Ezra’s stare, you barely breathe as you excise the carrom blister- the trickiest part. These things never come away easily, necessitating a firm hand and a decisive slash. One slip of the hand here could compromise the pull. You can’t afford to waste precious time or ruin even the smallest Aurelac pearl. You didn’t need to be reminded that your ability here was the linchpin in the whole operation. Dousing the gem in fazer solution to finalize the process, holding up your bounty for Ezra to see. It was a beautiful specimen. Roughly the size of an egg, and glowing with amber flecks from within. A low whistle came over the radio. “That’s a decent pull, Pussycat. Very nice indeed. I think you better stow that one away for yourself. A little reward.”

Riding high on your first triumph, you tuck the gem in a small case and stash it on the arm pouch of your suit. Ezra’s praise stayed with you as you worked, not bothering to mute yourself so he could hear your panting and groaning as you worked. You knew he could hear you even if he couldn’t see you, and you could hear as he breathed. He was relatively silent for a while as you worked, quickly filling the first collection case and the second, and almost all of a third. The fertile nest had proven itself to be deep and generous. You tried hard to not add up what it all might be worth. It was a lot. A voice inside your head urged you to snap it all up and run. Take it all for yourself. Figure out your own way home. You could buy a space in steerage on any working ship. If you just had Ezra’s rail gun. If he didn’t see your trophy cases, if you could hide them out of sight until he was asleep, if you could get his gun…the plan wasn’t to be.

When he did speak, it nearly caught you by surprise. You were reaching deep into the ground, fingers stretching and fumbling for a bulb when he came across.

“I’m watching you, pussycat. Don’t think about runnin’. I’ll chase you and I’ll catch you every time. I know you haven’t forgotten our deal. I bet you haven’t forgotten how good I can treat you, either. How I’m going to take care of you. I bet you’re still wet from this morning.”

How could you not be? You’d been wet since before he was even awake, wetter when you could feel him watching the sway of your hips as you walked through the forest, and wetter still when your mind swam with dirty thoughts of him taking you right here on the ground.

“Of course.” You answered breathily, looking around to find him a little ways up the ridge to the west of you, his rail gun in one hand, and palming his cock through his suit.

“You tasted so good last night, I can still feel you on my lips, got me aching for more of you.” Your soft whimper in his earpiece egged him on. “Are you going to be good for me? Let me touch you again? You want to feel how hard you’ve got me? What a desperate man you’ve made of me?”

You could hear the way he was fighting to maintain composure and it ate away at your own ability to focus on your delicate work, the reason you were here in the first place. “I want to be good, Ezra.”

Had you been closer you could have seen the way his lip curled into a half smile, just this side of sinister. “Pack up. We’re done.”

By the time you’d gathered and hastily packed everything, Ezra was at your side, shouldering your pack and one of the cases while you took the others. You’d only started to walk back toward the tent when he stopped and turned toward you, tapping his visor against yours, finding your eyes in the dim light. “Follow me and stay close.” Your heart picked up at the change of plans. The twisted path he picked wound up and back down into a hollow in the hills. There, looking battered and abandoned, sat a small ship. It was an early model, a Testin Screamer that was popular back at the beginning of the rush. It looked like it belonged here in the verdant landscape.

The interior was cleaner than you expected, bright and tidy, with the cabin lights and filter in proper order, humming along like it could lift off with the flip of a switch and get you as far as the outer reaches of Spiria if you wanted, maybe further. Awe and confusion collided, giving way to your anxiety again. “Ezra what is this?” You were afraid to ask anything else, not wanting to hear any answers that didn’t suit you.

He didn’t answer at all, though. He just pulled off his helmet and the cumbersome filter rig he wore, dropping them on the floor, eager to get to you and divest you of the same. Your helmet first, then the zippers and snaps, heavy handed and without finesse he stripped you down, leaving you in your panties, suit crumpled around your ankles.

“Ezra” you tried again as he tugged his own zipper down, grunting into your neck as he kissed, hungry and wet from your shoulder to your ear, pinching softly at the side of your breast. He stopped only to free his arms, “My ship.” He finally explained as he stepped on your suit and pulled your legs free in turn before kicking his own aside. “Just needs a starter. All the works are in order, if we can trade some of our aurelac for the right part, we will be creamy. You and I.” He spoke tenderly and earnestly, smoothing your hair, leaving you no space to question, only to trust and abide.

Your partnership with Ezra, enigma that he was, seemed to be ordained. Your cooperation was irrelevant to Kevva’s designs. Ezra is here, you’ve got enough aurelac to give you a life of ease, and now, it seemed, you even had the ship that would take you to that life. It was intoxicating. His scent, the warmth of the air in the hull, the way his grip on your waist tightened as he sucked your stiff nipple into his mouth. It could be so easy to give in when he eased into a seat next to the beeping, humming control panel, pulling you against his chest, sticky with sweat. So easy when his cock was against your belly to just give yourself to him. Let him take what he wanted and sate himself. Something told you though, that he needed the chase. He’s a hunter. Too long without a challenge and he might grow restless and unpredictable. He needs a little fight to keep him sharp. The glimmer in his eyes, when you tried to twist out of his grasp was the confirmation.

“Don’t fight me, kitten.” He warned, pulling you tighter against him, squeezing and lifting to grind your mound against his length. “I can make this wholly enjoyable for you. Let me.” Clearly unsatisfied with your soft eyed silence, he brought his hand down on your ass, making you cry out, more from surprise than pain. Before the sting subsided he repositioned you so your slick cunt was against his thigh. “You want to come? Let me see you take it.”

You started with a timid roll of your hips, watching him watch you as you moved against him, spreading your arousal over his thick muscle. “That’s it. Make a mess. Filthy.” His fingertips dug into your hips as he guided you faster, harder against him. Ezra panted along with you, sweat dampening his hair and running down his neck. “Don’t stop. I know you just want to come. Come for me and I’ll give you what you really want.” He watched your face with parted lips and furrowed brow as you inched closer, rutting against him, desperate, grinding your clit with every backward motion. His hand moved to your breasts, plucked at your nipples, splayed over your chest, felt the pounding of your heart, moved to your neck, your jaw, where his thumb rested on your bottom lip, swiping over it until you opened and let him press it in against your tongue. As you sucked his thumb, the coil that had been winding low in your belly finally snapped. His thumb muffled your cry and his fingers tapped against your cheek.

Without a chance to catch your breath, he held out his hand to you. “Spit.” He looked at you expectantly. “Look at me, pussycat. Look how hard I am. This is because of you. Now, what are you going to do about it?” You let a pool of saliva drip onto his palm, and he spread it over his cock. It was every bit as big as you’d imagined, and beautiful, heavy and thick, foreskin sliding as he stroked himself, revealing a fat and leaking tip. “You’re going to be good and you’re going to get on your knees and help me get it good and wet. The wetter it is, the better it’s gonna feel in that tight cunt. Go on.”

Settled between his knees you couldn’t help but question how you’d gotten here. You felt as if you had been funneled straight to this wild, woolly, articulate man, still a mystery to you but joined now it seemed, the aurelac a contract between you, your alliance more than business. Here now, his throbbing turgid member in your hand, and him, smiling or smirking down at you as you licked lewdly, eyes half lidded, following the hard ridge onto the head where you swirled your tongue. When you worked him into your mouth you felt him jerk, whining softly. His taste was salty and mild, smooth on your tongue and nice. It felt right and good to suck his cock. You lost yourself in his pleasure, varying the speed and depth that you took him, cradling his balls in your palm. You didn’t look to see his face, you didn’t see him bare his teeth. You only felt him tensing and squirming, then his hand in your hair as he pulled you off of him and covered your mouth with his own, kissing you hungrily.

“Don’t get carried away. I’m going to fill you up,” he looked from your eyes to your swollen lips, “but not here.” The implication in the low rumble of his words silenced your mind. There was nothing there but him.

“Ezra.”

“I wanted to bide my time, be a gentleman for you.” Ezra laid you down on the floor, caging you in with his broad, silver scarred shoulders and his strong arms. “The instant I saw you I knew I had to have you, gentle girl. Knew you’d be what I needed.” He dragged the wide head of his cock over your folds, smearing your wetness over your puffy lips and teasing your clit before he lined himself up, but left you in agony as he refused to go any further. No, instead he shifted his knee up under your thigh so he could hold himself up and thumb slow circles over your clit. “I tried to be a good man.” It wasn’t enough. He was so close. He pressed into you a fraction of an inch and then retreated, giving you a delicious pressure but nothing to clench on. You cried and writhed, lifting your hips uselessly, trying to will him into you. Ezra just chuckled. “If you want mercy, you better beg.”

“Ezra!! Ezra, please! Fuck. Fuuuck! Please Ezra, just fuck me!”

“Shhhh.” He hushed you sympathetically, “You can have it.” In one smooth motion he was fully seated, pushing the air from your lungs with all his weight seemingly focused on spearing you. As deep as he could get, Ezra pulsed his hips, making sure you felt every bit of him before he drew back like a bow and plunged forward again, loving the sound you made as he filled you again. He set a slow pace, and you moaned softly at the stretch and fullness of him inside you. The way he dragged against your clit with every being of his hips. Your hands were restless, moving from his shoulder to his neck, up the back to grasp his short, tender curls. Impulsively, you pulled them and were rewarded with a much harder snap of his hips. The force of his movements pushed you up, a problem he remedied by dropping to his elbows, closing you in, holding you close to kiss your neck and breathe into your ear all that he had been consuming him. “Needed you.” He panted. “So good. Taking everything I give, let me do anything. Let me make you use you up…” He trailed off as his thrusts grew sloppy, his tempo uneven. All you could do under his heavy weight was hold on, his neck, his arms, whatever you could reach and your legs around his waist. You gave him one more fluttering orgasm around his cock before the wet sounds of your bodies and the moaning and panting slowly faded as he spilled inside you, filling you with his spend.

All was hazy as you drifted back to yourself. Ezra had stayed inside you, nuzzling you’d neck and jaw, kissing the side of your face. Getting off made him docile and sentimental.

“You don’t belong out here.” He reminded you again. “What if I hadn’t found you? Do you know what could happen to a woman in the green? One sweet like you? As pretty?” He shook his head in disgust.

“You did find me though, Ezra. You’re taking care of me. You found me and we found aurelac and now we just have to get off this moon. We can do what we like now. We never have to put on another helmet again. We never have to leave Lao if we don’t want to. We can swim,” you kissed his bottom lip, “we can eat.” You kissed his nose, “and we can fuck.”

Ezra nodded, sighing and releasing the tension from his shoulders.

That night you tucked yourselves into a bunk on the ship. The filter was better here, and the bed was a better fit for you both, though he still curled around you, tucking your body into his, letting you sleep soundly in his arms.

•••••

Morning on the ship was bright and clear, the sunlight streaming in from a large window above the control panel. You slept better than you had in ages, yawning and stretching and smiling to yourself. It took several blissful moments to register that you were alone.

You called softly for Ezra, hoping he would come if he heard the needy lilt in your voice. Hoped he would remember that you were warm and sleepy and naked in his bed. Hoped he’d come and show you how he thought you ought to be treated.

But he didn’t come.

And he wasn’t in the ship. Not in the cockpit, not in the small hold below.

Panic gripped you as you put on your suit, realizing his was gone and so was the rail gun. You realized that you hadn’t seen which compartment he had

Locked your aurelac in and that you didn’t have a key to open them anyway. Where had he stowed your kit?

Cursing him, you dashed out of the ship, eyes fixed on the swirling dust so you wouldn’t cry. The tent, you decided, was the first place to go. Your tent was there, you could take it maybe you could find Ezra and get your thrower back. Maybe he would be stupid enough to give it to you so you could shoot him. Your heart ached at the thought.

ACT III: Gut The Fencer

Blood rushed through your ears, pounding with your heart as you darted back up the little hill, not caring to cover your tracks. Let them find him! you thought. If you got to him first it wouldn’t matter. Your anger and rage gave way to humiliation and despair. You’d trusted him and you’d been had. What chance did you have now of ever getting back home? Ezra was gone. Gone the aurelac, gone your kit, soon you’d be gone too, one way or another.

You felt sorry for yourself. You thought of something else your grandmother used to say. “Broken hearts want broken necks.” It ached to think of her. You cried, unable to wipe away your tears, they dripped down your cheeks. Your pace slowed as you tried to follow the almost imperceptible desire path that had been made back toward Ezra’s tent. You had to watch your step, ever vigilant of the spore producers that could overwhelm your filter, the rocks and vines, the biting insects, the animals in the trees. So many threats lurked.

You were glad the BG line was shutting down. This Kevva forsaken moon was cursed. Everyone who came here was cursed. Nothing good was here. You kicked and shoved at the branches in your path and as if on cue, you snagged your boot on a vine and fell forward until you were abruptly snatched back up by your arm.

“What are you doing out here?” That familiar voice hissed. “Where are you going, pussycat? Where are you running with no thrower?” His voice was low, angry with a top note of suspicion. Jerking from his grip, your spun to face him, hurt and seething. “YOU left ME, Ezra! I don’t have a thrower because YOU took it. YOU took MY aurelac!” There was more to scream at him, but your voice was cracking so you charged at him instead. You could take out his knees, knock him down, disarm him, and dispatch him. That was the best plan. It was your only plan until your shoulder met his chest and he barely wavered. He just put an arm around you and dared to laugh. “Pussycat. I met with the Sater. They are early risers and I didn’t want to disturb you. I should have told you I was leaving. I apologize for the oversight.”

You softened against him, trying to work out if you should believe him or not.

“Why’d you meet the Sater?” It came out more accusatory than you meant. Ezra smiled at you, wide and boyish. “Let’s discuss this back on the ship. While we walk you can tell me where you were going to so fast that you nearly rolled down this ravine?” He took your hand and led you, looking back every few steps to watch with a sympathetic scowl as you told him how you were frightened when you woke up alone, how you thought he’d used you, abandoned you, left you to die.

By the time you made it back to the ship, apologies were made and re-made, vows to never leave you again sworn, and looks of devotion and care and desire exchanged.

nside the ship, your suits were stripped, his hands cupped your face and yours twisted in his soft undershirt.

Your back met the paneled wall as Ezra’s forehead fell

against yours, he lifted you and held you in place against him. “I’ve got to tell you. I wanted to wait until

It was all finished, but I can’t wait. I went to finalize an entente with the Sater. Our smallest gem for a starter that I can hot wire to this derelict ship. It won’t be long.” You were speechless. It was too good to be true. “Ezra…” you started, but he stopped you with a kiss. “You need to understand me now, Pussycat. I found you for a reason. I’m not keen to give you up. The aurelac is yours, this ship is yours, and you are mine.” He punctuated the last word with a firm push against your wet pussy, making you whine and rock your hips. “This pussy is mine. These tits are mine. Your hands, your mouth, all mine.” His cock swelled against your mound, more precum beading at the swollen head.

“You’re going to let me have you however I want, and I’m going to give you a little present.” You nodded, servile and soft for him.

He moved you back into the bunk where you woke up alone, and called you his sweet girl, his good girl, his only one. He kissed you and squeezed you, made you putty in his rough hands. Arousal dampening your panties so that they stuck to you, translucent, making you throb just to this side of discomfort. He sat up and pulled you across his lap, ass up, legs splayed. He murmured something unintelligible and loving caressed the back of your thighs, up over the swell of your ass, tugging your panties to wedge between your cheeks and pull taut against your aching pussy. Back down, he massaged you, everywhere but where you needed him most. Down your inner thighs, nudging against your puffy lips. As one hand made it’s way up your calf, the other kneaded your ass and inched down to tease at the wet fabric over your entrance.

Circling your ankle in his hand, he pulled your foot toward him, bringing your toes to his mouth and sucking two at a time, making you jump in surprise at the strange sensation. No one had ever done such a thing. It felt dirtier than anything else he had done. While he sucked and hummed around the little digits, his other hand played lazily with your pussy, smacking it gently through the wet fabric, pressing the saturated cotton into your folds to show every detail of your center. He finally turned loose of your foot, but returned his attention ten-fold back to your cunt. Both hands were on you, rubbing, pressing, massaging, smearing slick as he praised your obsequiousness.

You tried hard to keep your breathing steady, so worked up but with no relief, you pinched, pulled, rolled your nipples and keened, rolling your hips looking for more anything. Ezra answered your prayers with one more loud, stinging smack to your pussy.

“Are you ready for your present now? I think you are, if the way you’re soaking my leg is any indication.” You thought he might leave you, go get your gift, but he pulled a small case from under the pillow. An aurelac case. An odd gift considering the amount of aurelac you had struck, but you watched with curiosity as he slid the case in front of you, leaving you across his lap, adjusting his cock.

As expected, inside you found a small aurelac pearl. It was shiny, as if it had been polished and refined, making the reticulation of the amber inside sparkle. It was lovely. “Thank you, Ezra. It’s beautiful.” You twisted back to kiss him, but his eyes had darkened and he had begun running your through again. “Take it out.” He instructed. You carefully plucked the litttle gem from

The case and saw it had been carved. It looked like a spade, an objet d’art. You turned it in your hand, appreciating the fine detail of the shaping and the way the small stand at the bottom was shaped into a perfectly flat circle. It would be perfect on your desk. “Do you recognize it? That’s the first gem you harvested. The Sater are deeply religious, but they do undertake art as well. When you agreed to be mine, well, I couldn’t resist. And now you’ll have a little memento from this dig and from me. Wear it in good health, Pussycat.”

“Wear it?” Was it jewelry? “Ezra, I don’t understood. It’s very pretty though, very sweet of you. Thank you.” You reached for the box to tuck the gem away for safe keeping, but Ezra took it from your hand. “I’ll show you how you’re going to wear it for me. He closed the little sculpture in his hand, warming it as he resumed his ministrations. Sliding his fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit, teasing your entrance, he completed that circuit a few times while you rocked your hips slightly. On the last pass, he dragged a slick finger over your tighter hole. For the second time tonight he made you squirm. “Have you done this before?” He teased, and you shook your head. He dragged his middle finger through your folds and brought it up to join the first, pressing against your tight ring of muscle, you felt him move again, the rustle of fabric, and the snap of a lid. Unable to see what he was doing you could only guess what he was doing.

Soon enough the answer came in the form of a drip of cool liquid. It dripped down, mixing with your own arousal. Ezra spread it around and slowly, determinedly pressed the tip of his finger into your ass. You whined, he soothed you with his soft voice, his free hand rubbing your back gently as he worked. You weren’t aware of the effect it was having on him to be the first one to explore you this way, to have you so wrapped around his finger that you didn’t protest at all as he readied you for the next step. Adding more of the liquid and twisting his finger before joining it with another, the stretch was foreign and new, not exactly uncomfortable, your body seemed to adjust to each new thing he introduced, something you pondered on as he pressed further, sliding the two fingers in and out gently, shallowly, as he thumbed your clit. Your pussy ached for attention.

When Ezra decided you were ready, he positioned the aurelac where his fingers had been inside you, gave a few testing presses, added more liquid, and set to work, pressing, twisting, easing the gem into your asshole as you whined and whimpered, until it was settled, just the wide base remaining. Ezra admired his handiwork. “You’re a marvel. How’s it feel? Big?” You nod, “Yeah, Ez. Big. Full.” Ezra pressed on the little toy, watching with glee as it sank in.

He rolled you carefully to your back, soaking in your naked body, spread out and open for him, and him alone. He bent to kiss and suck at your nipples, up your chest, and licked into your mouth, kissing you deeply, with more passion than you’d ever experienced. The kind you thought existed only in movies. But here he was, so giving and tender, so mad for you and your body, so eager to give and take. You were breathless, both of you when he pulled away, searching your face, staring at your lips. “Open up.” You obeyed. “Stick out your tongue.” You were unsure, but you obeyed. Grinning, he spit onto your tongue. Your eyes went wide as it dripped to the back of your tongue. “Don’t swallow it. Leave it right there while I take more of what’s mine.” You could only nod, breathing hard through your nose as he dragged his cock through your folds, smacking the head against your clit for good measure before easing into your pussy, aware of how much tighter you were, how sensitive you were with your aurelac in place. He moaned, feeling his cock rub against that defiled gem while he fucked your cunt. Slow and easy, gentle, he rocked back and forth, listening to your cries and moans, knowing you couldn’t make the noise you wanted to with his spit in your mouth. “Swallow it.”

Watching you follow his every instruction without question, a toy for him made him hard like never before. He fucked into you faster, spurred on by your uninhibited sounds. He slid his hand between your bodies to tend to your clit, giving you the last little push you needed to come. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, bucking your hips, squeezing your tits, reaching the highest height you could imagine. You were hot and cold, boneless and rigid, you were nothing until he was inside you. Ezra hadn’t stopped his own pursuit, just slowed until you settled, but now he was on the hunt again, bouncing your ties with every thrust, making wet, sticky sounds fill the air with his sneer. Remembering last night, you reached up and took a handful of his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, never letting go until he was coming with a strangled shout, leaving you dripping his cum. It was exhausting to love Ezra. Terrifying to admit that you loved him. Such a short time in the grand scheme, a tiny tick on the timeline of what would be the rest of your lives together.

You tangled your limbs together, holding each other, whispering sweet things, kissing for a long while until he sat up. “I’ve got one more thing for you, pussycat. Do you trust me?” You promised that you did and he left, rummaged a minute before returning, holding a short length of rope. He climbed in above you and kissed you again, the sort of kiss you wanted to feel forever on your lips. “I want to tie you up. Are you going to let me?” Happy to please him, you held out your wrists. He kissed each one, and crossed one over the other, thing an intricate knot that looked like a bow. You liked being a little gift for him. “One more thing.” He whispered, and ducked out while you waited for his return, eager to see what he had in store, wiggling to feel his gift inside you. You heard movement, and opened your eyes, expecting Ezra, but seeing a figure in black, a Sater. You screamed for Ezra to come save you, but he stepped into view with his hand on the sater’s shoulder, starter in his hand. “You really shouldn’t trust anyone out here, Pussycat.