#taking public transport in D&D

[bunnyhopkins]

*throwing a tantrum* waahhhhHHHHHHHHH I DONT WANNA LEARN HOW TO DRIVE I DONT WANNA LEARN HOW TO DRIVE I DONT WANTNNA LEARN HOW TO DRIVE

okay all done. i don't want to learn how to drive.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I had this friend I was living with when I was getting my associates degree in my early twenties. Wait, hang on. So the first thing I need to convey about that time in my life is that I was as full of anxiety as it was possible to be.

I was working, taking classes, and living on my own for the first time. I was drowning. I was a bubbling kettle of stress and responsibilities all waiting to boil over at any moment. Bodies are fickle things. They all react to stress very differently. My body decided that the best possible way to deal with stress was to puke about it.

This was extremely unwelcome not just because throwing up is a violently uncomfortable experience but also because I struggled most of my life to maintain a healthy weight. I’d eat enormous portions but even when my food stayed down I burned through calories like a hummingbird. I tended to hover right around a hundred pounds, desperately trying to gain weight.

My friends were all aware of my struggles. They’d keep granola bars on them for when I suddenly got so hungry I was sick and made me calorie dense meals. They knew the face I made when I realized I was going to be sick and usually had water and back rubs for me afterward.

So that’s where I was. Throwing up generally at least once a week, working and school full time. I was living with three friends. Let’s call them K, D, and E. K and I had been friends since middle school and she and I shared a bedroom with our own bathroom. The boys D and E shared a room, and had the public bathroom.

The last thing you need to know is that D was a sex addict. He was always horny, masturbated several times a day, and made no secret of his proclivities. It was a running joke within the friend group. (As an aside he once had his car broken into while transporting his duffel bag of sex toys to and from a liaison, and the thief ignored everything else in the car to take the toys. It was probably over a thousand dollars of used sex toys but the thief still wanted it more than his iPod)

One night I was doing homework and dinner was sitting poorly. I hadn’t fully developed my brain yet to make a connection between my paper was stressing me out to the fact that I suddenly felt really sick. But to my dismay K was in our bathroom.

So I jumped up, frantically ill, and ran across the living room to the boys toilet to barf.

The walls were thin.

Within a few minutes D came in with a cold wash cloth. He put it on my neck and rubbed my back. He’d brought a glass of water for me, too, which was all very lovely.

When I was done we sat in the miserable aftermath of this latest episode in stomach violence. He finally broke the silence to comment, “I’ve never lost an erection as fast as I did hearing you start puking.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Your ride is here (dark!Ghoap x fem!Reader)

CW and tags: Non-con, poly, group sex, size kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, kidnapping, dead dove do not eat, forced orgasms, praise, humiliation I really really adore @ohbo-ohno and @ceilidho for their amazing takes on writing dark fics with Ghoap and fem!Readers Word count: 3794 AO3

You were already way too drunk when you got out of the bar. It was an annoyingly loud party, too many people you never even knew – you thought that it would be nice since it’s a nice bar and not some weird tech music club, but it didn’t really matter in the end. You were still wasted, head spinning around and headache already forming with bile in your throat every time you opened your eyes. Your phone is dead, your brain is barely working, and the only thing you wish to do right now is to curl down in a small ball and cry. 

You barely managed to call for an Uber before your phone blinked one last time and turned off – and judging by the fact that the somewhat kinda, big-ish car was the only one in the dim alleyway, you assumed it was your ride. Hopefully, you’ll get home as soon as possible, get a shower, clear your stomach from alcohol slowly brewing into nausea, and fall asleep. 

You’re far too drunk to notice that the driver didn’t even ask for your name when you got inside. 

— H…hey there. You’re my driver, yea? 

You force the words out of your mouth as you slowly duck your head into the car and settle on the backseat before the guy even says anything. He is pretty, somewhat – a weird fucking haircut for sure, but has a roguish charm of a boy you might meet at the nearest gas station shop. You’re way too buzzed to think of him in any romantic way, but he is nice to look at, and you’re staring to the point of being inappropriate. 

He smiles, and you feel your cheeks heating up – probably just alcohol working its way up your system. But he looks nice and probably would feel nice in bed, too – he clearly forgot about shaving for a few days, and you almost think about the way it would feel on your face. Or between your legs. Or just right on your…

— Aye, it’s me. 

You can see his cheeks getting flushed as he stares back at you. The situation becomes slightly more weird with each passing moment, but he taps on his phone, probably searching for a map. You turn your head to look at the blurry image – not like you have any knowledge of the area, transferring here for your big girl job and trying to make your way in the city that couldn’t care less about you or your feelings. 

You press your cheek against the car seat, leaning over to help him. 

— It’s on…yeah, um, Maple 37-12. I think I might have typed the address incorrectly on the app. 

— Thank ye, lassie. 

He quickly turns on the map to head over to your house, and you smile, happy about your management skills even as you’re still drunk as hell. You allow your head to fall on the backseat headrest again, closing your eyes just for a second. It’s a long ride home, and you already regret every decision that made you go to this fucking party. 

The driver is chatty. 

Really fucking chatty. 

— So, where do you work? Ye shouldn’t be up in that hour. 

You grumble something in the answer, not wanting to speak too much. Your brain isn’t built for this kind of pressure right now. 

— Yer boyfriend goin’ to pick ye up? 

You slightly wince at the words, another reminder of how utterly alone you were. Of course, if you had a boyfriend or even some close, responsible friends, you would ask them to help you with a ride home – you never trusted public transport at this hour, and uber is often varies between a last resort and a stranger danger on wheels. 

— Don’t have any. 

Your brain is far too drunk to even comprehend why you didn’t just lie that a mysterious boyfriend will meet you. Somehow, the expression of the driver – he called himself Johnny with such a beautiful boyish smile that it made your toes curl – made you feel dizzy and light in the head. God, you don’t want to act like a high school sweetheart, but all of those drinks made you feel lonely. 

— No way. A wee bonnie like ye shouldnae be alone. 

You lick your lips, trying not to sound too miserable. You’re failing. 

— I’m focusing on my career. 

He actually laughs at that, and you feel even more embarrassed. 

— Career? How does that work out for ye? 

You just grumble at the answer, not wanting to bury yourself even deeper. Truth be told, it’s not what you expected when moving to a new city – you don’t know anyone, don’t have any friends here, your life has started from a blank point, and there is really nothing for you to do besides trying to connect with some uptight work buddies in a grimy bar. 

Driver says something else – just general questions, something about the weather. Silly jokes that make you snort and reconsider your sense of humor – he is really nice for a cab driver, and you kinda want to just listen to him talk over and over again. You kinda just want to close your eyes and sleep, but you suddenly realize that you need to charge your phone in order to check the payment – you don’t think you have enough cash in your purse, and you don’t want to make the driver’s life even more miserable. He must be low on money to work at this hour, and you kinda feel bad enough to leave him a big tip after all of this, especially if you would end up throwing up all over his nice, big car. It's suited for some brutal man from war movies, not an Uber driver. 

— Hey, sorry. Can I charge my phone for a bit? 

He smiles even more, getting you the required cable – you plug your phone finally, for the first time in the past few minutes, seeing your home screen again. God, this is late hours – you never got home at this time before. 

The car takes an unexpected turn, and you swing your head to look at the window – you don’t recognize the area. Of course, the road was dark, and you lived far away, but even with your blurry mind and hazy memories of the street you moved to,  you knew this wasn’t right. The driver is nice and all, but you feel like he made a mistake by relying only on Google Maps. You hope he made a genuine mistake, at least. 

— Um, sir? 

— Aye, lassie? 

He looks so innocent it immediately drops you off guard. You lean closer to him, a phone still in your hand – you were trying to refresh the Uber app quite a few times already, but it somehow never showed you the price you were supposed to pay for the trip – and try to sound as chill as possible. No use in making a scene, you both are tired, and he probably wants to get done with you as soon as possible. 

— I think you took a wrong turn. My street should be on the right side. 

— Didnae think I did. 

— What do you mean? My home isn’t…

The app blinks, and you look at it, trying to concentrate on the obscenely bright screen, punishing your eyes for simply having those. You lick your lips, blood running cold. 

You stare at the “Your driver will be here in 5 minutes”. With a description of a car that couldn’t be more different than the car you were in. 

With the driver, whose name wasn’t even remotely “Johnny”. 

***

Soap wasn’t intending to bring a girl home. What he intends is to find a nice chip place near the bar he and Simon used to go to together and then bring something home to eat because, of course, Lt came home before him, and his cooking skills are almost as bad as his jokes. Simon is a mad dog that will probably eat anything provided and isn’t against chewing on his shoes in case of an emergency, but he doesn’t want him to do this off-deployment. 

Johnny literally just wanted to buy some grub, get it home warm, and take off drinking beer and watching some mindless shit on the TV. Preferably with Simon by his side because their relationship cannot be defined by any labels, and he as a nice fucking ass. 

Well, turns out random drunk girls who slammed into his car just when he got the takeout bag securely on the front seat have nice asses too. And Soap can’t think of the last time he had his dick smothered by a woman’s lips and not his fist or, somehow, Simon’s hand. 

You’re pretty, drunk, and kinda dumb – just like he loves them. Silly girl, really, what did you expect when your phone is dead and you have no other means of contacting safety. He saw you approaching the car, not even looking at his plate – you probably wouldn’t remember when he would dump you in the morning. Not that he would, of course, pretty dumb girls like you should be protected, and his job is, well, protection itself –  he can drag you to his and Ghost’s apartment like a trophy in his teeth. 

He licks his lips, enjoying the expression of fear slowly creeping on your face. You’re so drowsy, so adorable, he can’t help but smile widely when you’re panicking. You try to open the door, but, of course, it’s child-locked. Fitting for someone who behaves like one. 

The last time he tried to convince a girl to have a threesome with him and Simon, she preferred to just watch them awkwardly jerk each other off. The last time he tried to convince a guy for a threesome with him and Simon, Johnny spent the whole night in the corner, blue-balled and lonely, as the twink preferred to suck Lt until he’d cum like two times in a row. 

Johnny knows that if he wants a chance for something other than a sloppy seconds, he will have to accept a quick car fuck, possible kidnapping, and forging marriage documents for a pretty girl he just locked in his car because why the hell not, why can’t a handsome Scotsman just kidnap a drunk girl who mistook him for an Uber driver. 

He stops the car in a more or less secluded area – poor bird, you’re still trying to bump your way out of the door with your shoulder, only risking dislocating it. The car was a fucking tank in disguise, the only thing that could survive Ghost’s driving skills – there is no way you would be able to get it to open without the owner wanting you to. Soap licks his lips, turning to you. Hell bells, you look divine. 

Tears in your eyes, panicked expression, hands curling into fists as you’re trying to get out of your personal nightmare, no matter how drunk you are. Poor baby, he really feels bad for you – you’re so sweet, so trusting, there is no way he was the first guy to ever try to harm you like this. Sergeant might like to think of himself as being more or less in touch with normal people, but when he sees a pretty girl in trouble, he wants nothing more but to become her trouble. 

He opens the car just for a second from the driver’s seat – he needs to get to you, after all, just looking at you, trapped in the backseat, won’t be enough for the throbbing erection he has in his pants. You try to fight him as he heavily lingers on you, almost crushing you under his weight. Car isn’t nearly big enough for someone like him to comfortably sit in normal position on top of you, so Johnny uses one hand to drag you back, deeper into the seat, and the other hand – to unbuckle his belt, proving to be fucking beautiful with his fingers. 

You look so pretty, he can’t help but snap a few pictures for the group chat – dumb idea at first, as he thought, but now he can’t wait for the Captain to see what a pretty catch he has on his arms. The last mission was pretty rough, and they all deserve a pretty thing to cover themselves in fear and tremble under them after they fuck her, one after one. Might even bring you to Captain’s house, show you what a good girl you can be for your daddy if given a chance. 

Soap smirks as he drags his hard cock out of his pants. Your eyes are wide in shock – he might not be the biggest of the group, Lt has the crown rightfully and deservingly, but it doesn’t mean that the Scot is small. Thicker than average, leaking pre-cum already – has been since you first got into the car, all cute and disoriented. He had to waste quite a few minutes driving you as far from civilization as possible without alarming your pretty, dazed head about anything – now he can reap his prize. A part of it, anyway. 

You cry and squirm, trying to fight him off when he pushes his hand into your hair and tugs angrily – you’re simply too fucking weak to be a reasonable challenge, so Johnny only laughs when he can put your fight with a single press on your windpipe. You cough, struggling again – soon enough, you learn to just stop and allow him to lead. Good girl, can be trained so well – you’d make a good soldier if you weren’t so pretty and so vulnerable. 

— Don’t make me break yer nose, lassie. Open up, aye? 

He smiles, too warm for the situation – you don’t understand what you did to deserve this, his hand presses your throat in a tight embrace, and you can’t do anything but squirm and try somehow to use your legs to fight – but oh, you’re far too drunk to do this. You whimper, and your head spins and aches with each hiccup, leaving your lips. Such a pathetic sight to see, you could almost feel bile in your throat as he pressed his cock closer to your lips, smearing bitter liquid all over your closed mouth. 

— Pl…please, don’t do this, don’t… what do you want? Money? I will give you money, or my phone, or…

He groans, the waiting time for this pretty girl is far too long already. He doesn’t want to hurt you, you’re too soft for this – a thought of slapping your face lingers in his mind, but ruining your pretty cheeks won’t be efficient in this case. Johnny tugs on your hair, hoping it will be enough to set you straight – he doesn’t want you to pass out from pain, after all. Already too merciful with just using your throat and now that tight ass hiding underneath your dress. 

Your words are slurred, hazed, your tongue can’t move quite right enough – still too drunk, and lack of fresh air only makes you go dumber by each second. Soap only lets go of you when he is sure you’re far too gone to try and bite him – still, he pushes his two hands in your mouth, opening you wide as you gag and cough. 

— Don’t worry yer pretty head ‘bout it. Just take me, and then we’ll go home. 

He will ride you home, make you ride him, and make you some really nice breakfast later. He will carefully wipe away the damp makeup from your face – poor girl, you’re crying too much and ruined all of your hard work on this skin – and send some pretty pictures to the group. But, hey, he can snap a couple right now. 

With one hand still in your mouth, he awkwardly moves his hips so his cock can point right against your lips – and presses down, making you gag more and more as he slowly but surely pushes his cock inside of your tight, warm mouth. God, this is the heavens – he can’t remember the last time he had such an amazing blowjob from such a cutie. Gaz would fucking love you. 

You’re so pretty from this angle, coughing on his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks – Johnny tells you to smile for the camera and snaps a couple of pictures. Group chat was an amazing idea, after all – he can’t wait to share some more cute videos once you’ve settled it. The feeling of your warm mouth on his cock is absolutely divine – you’re tight, probably inexperienced, and he relishes in the fact he might be the biggest cock you ever took in your pretty lips. 

You try your hardest to pull away, but he keeps you close, a hand tugs on your hair again, making you cry harder. Soap is so sorry, bonnie, he will make it up to you later – will eat your pretty cunt sloppily, maybe mess with your ass a bit, making sure you’re all wet and open for the members of his team and their members. He snorts at the thought. smiling as you’re still fighting the urge to puke. 

— Like this, aye? Don’t fuckin’ try to bite me, I don’t want to prick yer teeth off. 

Threat lingers in your panicked mind as he drags his hips back before slamming in your mouth again, his balls slapping your chin with an obscene sound. The drool is leaking down your lips, creating a mess on the car seat – it’s not a problem, really, he will clean it later. Maybe would have to change the fabric of the seating for something less damp if he plans to fuck you in the car more. And oh, aren’t they all planning to do this? 

His phone rings when he was least expecting it – skull emoji on the display. No name, no photo – of course. He must have predicted that Lt would like some of the fun beforehand. Well, Soap isn’t the one to hoard every trophy to himself – even if he really wants to be the first with a pretty girl. 

He loves his team – and they will love you as much. 

He picks up with a smug grin on his face, staring at the screen. His moans become louder, grunts that make your cheeks burn as you just know he is faking it for more theatrics – pressing his phone between his cheek and a shoulder, leaving his friend to listen to his pleasure. Licking his lips as Ghost groans, a familiar sound of an unbuckled belt clanging somewhere in the background. You sob, trying to trash out of his hold again – he only presses you deeper, your nose flattening against his pubic bone. 

— Couldn’t fuckin’ wait, Jonny? Simon sounds tired, angry, jealous even – his sergeant smiles wider, slowly removing the phone from under his cheek and going into video call instead – showing your pretty face, all smothered with pre-cum, ruined makeup, and tears. You look so pretty, so perfect, he moves his hips more to remind you to suck on his cock and not just stare at him like a pretty kitten. He loves you like this, of course, but his dick twitches without proper movement, and Johnny was never the one for patience. Only for bombs, maybe. 

Well, you’re a freaking bombshell, aren’t ye. 

— Sorry, Lt. Dumb thing thought I was her ride. 

The other man snorts. They both laugh – a cruel sound, taunting your ears. You whine and cry, feeling the cock in your mouth pulsating. You try to turn away from the camera, but it’s impossible with a hand still pressing down on your head – you can only close your eyes, poor attempt at saving your dignity. God, you feel absolutely trashed. Soap adores that defeated look in your eyes. 

— And you aren’t? 

— Still a better driver than you, sir. But no, not this time. Can give her a ride, though. 

You hate their laughing, hate the way he is gently caressing your head like you’re a threatened animal and not a living, breathing being. He is being soft with you, like he isn’t forcing his way into your mouth – like he isn’t showing your fucked face to his friend. You hate the way your pussy burns, wet from humiliation, and the soft retirement you’re receiving. Bastard isn’t even thinking of your pleasure, and maybe that’s good. You don’t want to like it. 

— Goin’ bring her home? 

— Aye. Would look bloody adorable on our bed. 

They both snort while your blood runs cold. You hoped, you prayed he would let you go after this – traumatized, but mostly alive and well. You have a job, you have a life, and you can’t be fucking “taken home” to some bastard’s bed while he is using you like a sex toy. You try to squeeze your teeth on his dick, maybe do at least something to make him let you go – but Soap strikes your cheek with unknown anger, making you squirm in his grasp. You sob. 

— Don’t break her yet, Johnny. 

— Sorry. Dumb thing tried to bite me. 

— Doesn’t know any better. Gaz had a special muzzle for dumb girls. 

— Too tight for my dick. 

— Bloody hell, Mactavish. Don’t get too cocky. 

— Never intended to, sir. 

He pushes his dick deeper into your mouth. Your cheek burns from the slap, you can almost feel the bruise forming – and the bastard just tugs on your hair, filling your throat with sticky, disgusting cum. You drink it all, no use in trying to choke yourself on his seed when you’re already set in his hold. 

— How is her mouth? 

— Fuckin’ heaven, Lt. 

— I noticed. You finished fast, even for you, Johnny. 

— I’ll try better next time. Maybe get our dollie off after. 

— Selfish, Mactavish. 

— We all deserve to be selfish. 

Soap has the fucking audacity to wipe your mouth after you finish drinking it all, pushing the remaining cum and drool back on your tongue. He gently patted on your head, then made a small apology for being too rough. Was never his intention. 

— Sorry, bonnie. Don’t try to fight again, aye? You’re too tired to answer, and he just cradles your head against his chest. You whimper and cry, pleading senselessly for him to leave you – he only snaps even more photos of your tear-stained face. God, he can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll look heavenly as a fucktoy for the whole team. 

— L..let me…

— Naw, lassie. Shut up and let me take you where you belong. You’ll love it, promise. 

He kisses your forehead before moving to the front seat again. 

You clutch to the seat in silence, bitter taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue. 

[cozage]

you wanna do continue the one you did where the s/o gets captured? Get them rescuuuued. please and thank you :D

A/N: I actually have two of these requests in my inbox, and these got really long because I’m insane and have to write every detail, so I’m going to break these up into three different posts so people aren’t stuck reading and scrolling through a 10k fic on tumblr. Ace and Law’s will be coming soon!

Characters: female reader x Luffy

Cw:  angst, drugging, near-death experience

Total word count: 2.3k

Summary: You've been captured by marines, and the Strawhats work to get you back. (Followup from this request)

Rescued by Pirates - Luffy

Luffy stood at the top of the cliff, staring down the Marine fleet in the bay. There were ten ships, and you were on one of them. Captured. Alone. He knew you were fighting, but there’s only so much you could do in a locked prison cell with sea prism cuffs. 

“I’m coming.” Luffy muttered, hoping the wind would carry his words to you. “Wait for me. Don’t stop fighting.”

“Luffy, get down!” Nami pulled the captain back over the ridge, keeping him out of sight from the scouts. “If a Marine sees you this whole stealth operation is over!”

Luffy groaned and slumped to the ground. “I don’t even know why this has to be a stealth operation! If we just start smashing everything-”

“They’ll kill her.” Sanji said, and Luffy grew quiet. “If they know we’re coming, they’ll execute her now and report it to the news coo after.”

“They probably have people waiting outside her cell to do it as soon as the call is made,” Franky admitted coldly. “They don’t want another repeat of…” he trails off, and everyone knows what he’s going to say. 

They don’t want another repeat of Ace. Luffy embarrassed the entire World Government when he broke into Impel Down, broke out of Impel Down, and then sailed to Marineford and freed Ace from his shackles. 

“It’s possible that’s why they’re still here.” Nami’s voice was worried as she spoke everyone’s thoughts. “They’re baiting us so they can kill her. They don’t want to transport her just to have Luffy embarrass them again.”

“It would make sense why they haven’t taken off yet,” Brook added. 

“Or they’re waiting for backup,” Sanji countered. “She’s a dangerous pirate, but the Navy always prefers public executions. Especially with the new leader having a personal vendetta against Luffy, he’ll want to kill her publicly if possible. I’m sure of it.”

“Then we have to go!” Luffy started to stand to his feet, frustrated with the lack of action, but Nami quickly pulled him back down. 

“Let Robin and Brook handle this first part! We have to find her first before you start smashing everything to bits!”

Luffy hated waiting. Especially when there's nothing he could do to pass the time. But finally, after about 30 minutes of silence, Robin opened her eyes. 

“She’s on the fourth ship in the back with the red and yellow tailwind sail. Under deck, in a prison cell. Shackles on her arms and legs, and a neck collar.”

Luffy’s eyes peeked over the cliffside to find the ship Robin was describing. He located it, and sprang forward to jump over the cliff, but strong arms held him back. 

“Zoro, let me go! We know where she is!” He struggled to break free from the swordsman's grasp. “We have to go get her!”

“Hang on Luffy, we need a plan before we just jump into action!”

--

The guard change comes early today, which you find odd. Normally the Marines are dragging their feet to stand guard over your cell, but then you spot green hair poking out from the marine cap, the man next to him with a very familiar scar across his cheek, and your heart begins to beat faster. 

“So, the keys?” Zoro holds his hand out to the Navy officer watching over you, who laughs in his face. 

“This must be your first time imprisoning a pirate, kid,” the old man says. “We don’t keep the keys anywhere near the prison. You know how easy it would be for someone to knock out a guard and take them? Let me show you the ropes, kid.”

The old man and his colleague turn to face you for the first time in hours, ushering Zoro and Luffy to look at you now. You can see Luffy is in visible pain just from looking at you. 

Your arms and legs were each shackled to the wall, and you had a contraption around your neck that looked strikingly similar to the ones the Celestial Dragons used on their slaves. Blood caked your hair and trickled down your face. Your body was littered in scratches and bruises, your clothes torn from whatever battle had happened that Luffy wasn’t there for. 

“Each one of those shackles has a different key, and that neck collar too, as well as the key to the jail cell itself. Each of those keys are on a different ship, and we’ve got instructions to throw the keys into the harbor if we catch a glimpse of a Strawhat approaching the ship. 

“The best part, though,” he continues, with a hungry malice in his eyes. He raises his hand to point a finger at your neck. “That collar has a fun little detonator. The Vice Admiral has the control button if it comes to that. And the collar itself administers a sedative every hour on the hour, and gives another dose if someone touches the bars.” 

He smacked the bars for good measure, and you flinched as you felt a pinch in your neck. 

“Honestly it’s a miracle she’s still awake. We like to hit the bars every now and then just to keep her calm. Don’t want her causing a scene now, do we?”

You were trying your hardest not to stare at Luffy. You can see the rage consuming his body as he realizes what an insurmountable task it is to save you. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head viciously to relay a simple message. Run. Don’t save me.

But you know he won’t listen. He never has. Not with Robin or Ace or Sanji or anyone else he’s saved against their will. And he certainly won’t do it with you either. 

“I see a pretty big flaw in this whole design,” Zoro said, staring at the cell you were in. You could see he was enraged as well, but he was hiding it better than Luffy. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, kid?”

“Can’t they just cut it?”

The old Marine let out a hardy laugh at his question. “Sea prism stone is the hardest substance in the world. Nobody can cut through that, I don't care if it’s Dracule Mihawk himself!”

“Oh, Mihawk can cut Sea Prism Stone.” The green-haired man gave a devilish smirk to the Marine.

You braced yourself. You knew what was coming. Zoro only had two swords with him, but it would be enough. 

You heard a whirlwind of air swirl around you, and you could feel the weight on your arms get lighter. There were several pinches in your neck, and you could feel yourself involuntarily slip into unconsciousness. 

--

Zoro had put just a bit too much power into his swings to free you, and the cuts ripped through the ship behind you. He then turned to the marines, wickedly smiling at them. 

“Told ya.” He smacked the younger one with the hilt of the sword and the marine crumpled to the ground, but the older marine was fast and dodged Zoro’s attack. The Marine locked Zoro into a battle of swords, occupying his ability to get the other chains off of you.

Luffy sprang into action, running to grab you. He screamed your name as he ran to you, jumping over sea prism stone rubble and other debris to reach you. He knew Zoro hadn’t hurt you, but you were slumped against the ship wall, and he couldn’t help but think about how fragile you looked. He shook you, desperately trying to wake you up. 

And then Luffy heard a beeping sound, coming from the collar around your neck. The same sound that he was helpless against in Sabaody. “ZORO!” He screamed, holding you tight. 

“Forgot to mention,” the older marine grinned back at the swordsman, keeping him locked in a battle. “Tamper with the chains too much and the collar will detonate, even without a push from the button.”

Zoro tightened his muscles in horror. “Luffy, get it off of her!”

“I hear she’s the weakness of Strawhat Luffy. Let’s watch and see, shall we? Perhaps he’ll have an even worse reaction than in Marineford.” The marine's gaze was on Luffy now, eager to see him snap. 

Luffy ignored the weight of what failure meant for you. He focused, letting his Haki flow through his body like he had seen Rayleigh do in Sabaody. He grabbed the collar from around your neck and squeezed, snapping it in half, and threw it away from you. In the same motion, Luffy turned and glared at the Marine, who instantly crumpled to the ground, knocked out by Luffy’s Conqueror's Haki. 

“Luffy, we have to go,” Zoro’s voice was urgent. There was commotion above them coming from the deck. It was clear the Navy was alerted to their presence. But Luffy was ignoring him, desperately trying to shake you awake. 

“Come on, Luffy,” Zoro insisted, stepping over the rubble. He quickly cut each of the shackles off your legs.  “She’ll be fine. I’ll carry her, you punch things. Let's go.”

Zoro put a sword between his teeth and picked you up into his arms. He saw the darkness in Luffy’s eyes, and stood back to let his captain destroy the people who had tried to take you away from him. 

Luffy spared no ship. Once he saw Zoro and you were safe on the beach, he unleashed his full might against the ten ships in the harbor. His crew could hear his screams of rage from the shoreline, his pent up fear of losing you spilling out into his attacks. 

When he was finally finished destroying the ships, he came back to the shore and sat silently among his crew. He pulled your unconscious body into his lap, stroking your hair softly. He stared down at you for a long time, just watching the rise and fall of your chest, his eyesight fuzzy from tears. 

As the sun was starting to sink over the horizon, Nami finally spoke up. “We should go.” Her voice was hoarse, and her cheeks were damp with tears. 

“Not until she wakes up.”

Sanji sighed, pulling out a few small rations of food to give the crew while they waited. Luffy didn’t eat, he just combed his fingers through your hair, willing you to wake up. 

Nightfall came, and you were still unconscious. The crew could see lights on the horizon. Marine ships that were supposed to lead you to Impel Down. 

“Luffy, we need to go,” Sanji insisted. Luffy refused to respond, his eyes only watching you. 

“She’ll be more comfortable on the ship, Luffy,” Chopper said, trying to coax the captain back to the Sunny. “She can sleep in a bed and we can monitor her more closely.”

“It’s better for her to be back on the ship,” Sanji agreed. “And we need to get moving.”

Luffy finally nodded, giving in to his crew's request. If it was better for you, then he wouldn’t be selfish. It was selfishness that got you in this position in the first place. If he hadn’t run off on his own, if he had just stayed with the group like Nami had told him too, this might’ve never happened.

He held you close to him and walked back to the ship with the rest of the crew, not speaking. When they got back to the ship, Luffy set you down in the infirmary and stood in the corner, letting Chopper take care of you.

“Let me know if anything changes in her status.” And with that, Chopper left the two of you alone in the infirmary. Luffy sat in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand and watching you sleep, waiting for you to come back to him. 

--

Before you open your eyes, you can hear the heart rate monitor beeping; you can feel the harsh light against the back of your eyelids. Beside you, you can hear soft, even breathing of someone who is sleeping. Luffy. You’d know the sound of his breathing anywhere. You feel relief wash over you, knowing you’re safe with your crew. 

The light is still too bright for your eyes, so your hand reaches out blindly, searching for Luffy. Your hand finds his head, and you pat him gently. You don’t intend to wake him, but he instantly stirs from his sleep. 

“Y/n?” His voice is groggy as his head lifts up. 

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes still closed. “Can you turn off the-”

His body crashes into you, cutting off your question, and you wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You can hear his broken sobs of relief fill the air. “I was so scared,” he sobbed into your shoulder. “You weren’t waking up.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say soothingly, trying to calm him down. You crack your eyes open a bit, trying to adjust to the light in the room. “Thanks to you, captain.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Big Tech disrupted disruption

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/08/permanent-overlords/#republicans-want-to-defund-the-police

Before "disruption" turned into a punchline, it was a genuinely exciting idea. Using technology, we could connect people to one another and allow them to collaborate, share, and cooperate to make great things happen.

It's easy (and valid) to dismiss the "disruption" of Uber, which "disrupted" taxis and transit by losing $31b worth of Saudi royal money in a bid to collapse the world's rival transportation system, while quietly promising its investors that it would someday have pricing power as a monopoly, and would attain profit through price-gouging and wage-theft.

Uber's disruption story was wreathed in bullshit: lies about the "independence" of its drivers, about the imminence of self-driving taxis, about the impact that replacing buses and subways with millions of circling, empty cars would have on traffic congestion. There were and are plenty of problems with traditional taxis and transit, but Uber magnified these problems, under cover of "disrupting" them away.

But there are other feats of high-tech disruption that were and are genuinely transformative – Wikipedia, GNU/Linux, RSS, and more. These disruptive technologies altered the balance of power between powerful institutions and the businesses, communities and individuals they dominated, in ways that have proven both beneficial and durable.

When we speak of commercial disruption today, we usually mean a tech company disrupting a non-tech company. Tinder disrupts singles bars. Netflix disrupts Blockbuster. Airbnb disrupts Marriott.

But the history of "disruption" features far more examples of tech companies disrupting other tech companies: DEC disrupts IBM. Netscape disrupts Microsoft. Google disrupts Yahoo. Nokia disrupts Kodak, sure – but then Apple disrupts Nokia. It's only natural that the businesses most vulnerable to digital disruption are other digital businesses.

And yet…disruption is nowhere to be seen when it comes to the tech sector itself. Five giant companies have been running the show for more than a decade. A couple of these companies (Apple, Microsoft) are Gen-Xers, having been born in the 70s, then there's a couple of Millennials (Amazon, Google), and that one Gen-Z kid (Facebook). Big Tech shows no sign of being disrupted, despite the continuous enshittification of their core products and services. How can this be? Has Big Tech disrupted disruption itself?

That's the contention of "Coopting Disruption," a new paper from two law profs: Mark Lemley (Stanford) and Matthew Wansley (Yeshiva U):

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4713845

The paper opens with a review of the literature on disruption. Big companies have some major advantages: they've got people and infrastructure they can leverage to bring new products to market more cheaply than startups. They've got existing relationships with suppliers, distributors and customers. People trust them.

Diversified, monopolistic companies are also able to capture "involuntary spillovers": when Google spends money on AI for image recognition, it can improve Google Photos, YouTube, Android, Search, Maps and many other products. A startup with just one product can't capitalize on these spillovers in the same way, so it doesn't have the same incentives to spend big on R&D.

Finally, big companies have access to cheap money. They get better credit terms from lenders, they can float bonds, they can tap the public markets, or just spend their own profits on R&D. They can also afford to take a long view, because they're not tied to VCs whose funds turn over every 5-10 years. Big companies get cheap money, play a long game, pay less to innovate and get more out of innovation.

But those advantages are swamped by the disadvantages of incumbency, all the various curses of bigness. Take Arrow's "replacement effect": new companies that compete with incumbents drive down the incumbents' prices and tempt their customers away. But an incumbent that buys a disruptive new company can just shut it down, and whittle down its ideas to "sustaining innovation" (small improvements to existing products), killing "disruptive innovation" (major changes that make the existing products obsolete).

Arrow's Replacement Effect also comes into play before a new product even exists. An incumbent that allows a rival to do R&D that would eventually disrupt its product is at risk; but if the incumbent buys this pre-product, R&D-heavy startup, it can turn the research to sustaining innovation and defund any disruptive innovation.

Arrow asks us to look at the innovation question from the point of view of the company as a whole. Clayton Christensen's "Innovator's Dilemma" looks at the motivations of individual decision-makers in large, successful companies. These individuals don't want to disrupt their own business, because that will render some part of their own company obsolete (perhaps their own division!). They also don't want to radically change their customers' businesses, because those customers would also face negative effects from disruption.

A startup, by contrast, has no existing successful divisions and no giant customers to safeguard. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain from disruption. Where a large company has no way for individual employees to initiate major changes in corporate strategy, a startup has fewer hops between employees and management. What's more, a startup that rewards an employee's good idea with a stock-grant ties that employee's future finances to the outcome of that idea – while a giant corporation's stock bonuses are only incidentally tied to the ideas of any individual worker.

Big companies are where good ideas go to die. If a big company passes on its employees' cool, disruptive ideas, that's the end of the story for that idea. But even if 100 VCs pass on a startup's cool idea and only one VC funds it, the startup still gets to pursue that idea. In startup land, a good idea gets lots of chances – in a big company, it only gets one.

Given how innately disruptable tech companies are, given how hard it is for big companies to innovate, and given how little innovation we've gotten from Big Tech, how is it that the tech giants haven't been disrupted?

The authors propose a four-step program for the would-be Tech Baron hoping to defend their turf from disruption.

First, gather information about startups that might develop disruptive technologies and steer them away from competing with you, by investing in them or partnering with them.

Second, cut off any would-be competitor's supply of resources they need to develop a disruptive product that challenges your own.

Third, convince the government to pass regulations that big, established companies can comply with but that are business-killing challenges for small competitors.

Finally, buy up any company that resists your steering, succeeds despite your resource war, and escapes the compliance moats of regulation that favors incumbents.

Then: kill those companies.

The authors proceed to show that all four tactics are in play today. Big Tech companies operate their own VC funds, which means they get a look at every promising company in the field, even if they don't want to invest in them. Big Tech companies are also awash in money and their "rival" VCs know it, and so financial VCs and Big Tech collude to fund potential disruptors and then sell them to Big Tech companies as "aqui-hires" that see the disruption neutralized.

On resources, the authors focus on data, and how companies like Facebook have explicit policies of only permitting companies they don't see as potential disruptors to access Facebook data. They reproduce internal Facebook strategy memos that divide potential platform users into "existing competitors, possible future competitors, [or] developers that we have alignment with on business models." These categories allow Facebook to decide which companies are capable of developing disruptive products and which ones aren't. For example, Amazon – which doesn't compete with Facebook – is allowed to access FB data to target shoppers. But Messageme, a startup, was cut off from Facebook as soon as management perceived them as a future rival. Ironically – but unsurprisingly – Facebook spins these policies as pro-privacy, not anti-competitive.

These data policies cast a long shadow. They don't just block existing companies from accessing the data they need to pursue disruptive offerings – they also "send a message" to would-be founders and investors, letting them know that if they try to disrupt a tech giant, they will have their market oxygen cut off before they can draw breath. The only way to build a product that challenges Facebook is as Facebook's partner, under Facebook's direction, with Facebook's veto.

Next, regulation. Starting in 2019, Facebook started publishing full-page newspaper ads calling for regulation. Someone ghost-wrote a Washington Post op-ed under Zuckerberg's byline, arguing the case for more tech regulation. Google, Apple, OpenAI other tech giants have all (selectively) lobbied in favor of many regulations. These rules covered a lot of ground, but they all share a characteristic: complying with them requires huge amounts of money – money that giant tech companies can spare, but potential disruptors lack.

Finally, there's predatory acquisitions. Mark Zuckerberg, working without the benefit of a ghost writer (or in-house counsel to review his statements for actionable intent) has repeatedly confessed to buying companies like Instagram to ensure that they never grow to be competitors. As he told one colleague, "I remember your internal post about how Instagram was our threat and not Google+. You were basically right. The thing about startups though is you can often acquire them.”

All the tech giants are acquisition factories. Every successful Google product, almost without exception, is a product they bought from someone else. By contrast, Google's own internal products typically crash and burn, from G+ to Reader to Google Videos. Apple, meanwhile, buys 90 companies per year – Tim Apple brings home a new company for his shareholders more often than you bring home a bag of groceries for your family. All the Big Tech companies' AI offerings are acquisitions, and Apple has bought more AI companies than any of them.

Big Tech claims to be innovating, but it's really just operationalizing. Any company that threatens to disrupt a tech giant is bought, its products stripped of any really innovative features, and the residue is added to existing products as a "sustaining innovation" – a dot-release feature that has all the innovative disruption of rounding the corners on a new mobile phone.

The authors present three case-studies of tech companies using this four-point strategy to forestall disruption in AI, VR and self-driving cars. I'm not excited about any of these three categories, but it's clear that the tech giants are worried about them, and the authors make a devastating case for these disruptions being disrupted by Big Tech.

What do to about it? If we like (some) disruption, and if Big Tech is enshittifying at speed without facing dethroning-by-disruption, how do we get the dynamism and innovation that gave us the best of tech?

The authors make four suggestions.

First, revive the authorities under existing antitrust law to ban executives from Big Tech companies from serving on the boards of startups. More broadly, kill interlocking boards altogether. Remember, these powers already exist in the lawbooks, so accomplishing this goal means a change in enforcement priorities, not a new act of Congress or rulemaking. What's more, interlocking boards between competing companies are illegal per se, meaning there's no expensive, difficult fact-finding needed to demonstrate that two companies are breaking the law by sharing directors.

Next: create a nondiscrimination policy that requires the largest tech companies that share data with some unaffiliated companies to offer data on the same terms to other companies, except when they are direct competitors. They argue that this rule will keep tech giants from choking off disruptive technologies that make them obsolete (rather than competing with them).

On the subject of regulation and compliance moats, they have less concrete advice. They counsel lawmakers to greet tech giants' demands to be regulated with suspicion, to proceed with caution when they do regulate, and to shape regulation so that it doesn't limit market entry, by keeping in mind the disproportionate burdens regulations put on established giants and small new companies. This is all good advice, but it's more a set of principles than any kind of specific practice, test or procedure.

Finally, they call for increased scrutiny of mergers, including mergers between very large companies and small startups. They argue that existing law (Sec 2 of the Sherman Act and Sec 7 of the Clayton Act) both empower enforcers to block these acquisitions. They admit that the case-law on this is poor, but that just means that enforcers need to start making new case-law.

I like all of these suggestions! We're certainly enjoying a more activist set of regulators, who are more interested in Big Tech, than we've seen in generations.

But they are grossly under-resourced even without giving them additional duties. As Matt Stoller points out, "the DOJ's Antitrust Division has fewer people enforcing anti-monopoly laws in a $24 trillion economy than the Smithsonian Museum has security guards."

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/congressional-republicans-to-defund

What's more, Republicans are trying to slash their budgets even further. The American conservative movement has finally located a police force they're eager to defund: the corporate police who defend us all from predatory monopolies.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[mouse-of-dimitrescu]

HI one of my fav writer.. Can I request a reader comfort fic (or more/angst/smut) with Lady D or Principal Weems where reader got so drunk in a friend's party located somewhere outside the city where reader is not so familiar esp. with public transportation. And was supposed to be pick-up by their father or sibling but got left on her own accord to return home later when the reader is so untrustful of the unfamiliar environment. They just want to unwind after a stressful week, they did enjoy the party until past midnight and now wanted to go home but instead got so disappointed that decided against it, but still wanna end the night to rest. If you get what I mean.. This is basically me last night and I just want to be comforted right now. Thank you. You are free to add or change anything if you decided to write this<3 <3 <3

Safe in Her Arms

Larissa Weems X Fem Reader ( fluff and comfort )

WARNINGS: party, being slightly drunk, unfamiliar surroundings. ( Tell me if I need to add more <3)

✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*

You had attended a party outside your home city. The unfamiliarity of it seeped through your clothes and sent a shiver down your spine. When you entered the party, a change occured and you were met with the cheerful bonhomie of your friends. You didn't feel so mistrustful — eventually coming to enjoy a good evening. The hours slipped by before you could realise, darting towards midnight. It was almost time to return home and you felt quite exhausted after all the excitement, not to mention, a bit drunk too. You walked out a bit clumsily onto the pavement where you were supposed to be picked up but there was no sign of your father. He intended to pick you up after the party and the realisation of his absence caused you to become incredibly anxious.

You were disappointed and wanted to get to a safe environment as soon as possible. Your eyes darted across your surroundings which began to grow increasingly untrustworthy. With every sound, your head turned, your eyes darting back and forth, in a daze, but trying to keep on red alert.

You wrapped your coat securely around yourself to feel more comfortable and you got out your phone. You had no idea how to use the public transport system, especially in this state. And Uber would not be entirely safe at that hour. You didn't want to go home in particular, you just wanted to go somewhere comforting and familiar. You scrolled through your contacts and spotted the name: Larissa. You didn't want to bother the poor woman so late at night but at this point in time, it seemed like the only option.

You called her and she picked up almost immediately.

" Hello dear? Why are you calling at this hour? Is everything okay?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. Your heart warmed and you shut your eyes, finding comfort in her voice.

" I'm really sorry to bother you so late but I'm kind of...stuck outside the city. I was at a party and I don't have transport to get—" You explained, Larissa interrupted.

" Don't apologise. Where are you, darling?" She asked. You heard some shuffling over the phone.

You gave Larissa the address and held the bridge of your nose. " I'm just going to hide by the building."

" Okay, dear. Please keep safe. I'll be there as soon as possible." Larissa said. She put the phone down and you let out a sigh of relief.

You waited a short while, holding your coat around you tightly and stepping into the shadows so no one could really notice you if they were lurking nearby. You leant against the wall, trying to support yourself.

Larissa in her familiar grey car parked on the side and she hopped out. She spotted you and rushed towards you, taking you in her arms and peppering little kisses over your cheeks, making you smile slightly.

" You alright, darling? A bit tipsy?"

You nodded. " Y-yes." Larissa nodded in response and guided you to her car. She helped you get in the passenger seat.

Larissa hopped in the driver's seat and grabbed something's from the back.

" I'm sorry it's so late—"

" Stop apologising. I was awake anyway. Here, darling. Have some water and take this blanket, you must be freezing." Larissa handed you a warm blanket and a bottle of water. You opened the bottle and sipped out of it, thanking her. She smiled and began driving.

" Did you enjoy the party?" She asked.

" Oh, yes. It was nice. Then it got too dark and people began to leave to go home." You mumbled, a bit tiredly.

Larissa nodded. " Dear, would you like me to drop you off at home? Or would you like to come back with me to my cottage and I'll get you comfortable?" She asked.

You thought for a moment. " Would it be okay if I came back with you to your cottage?" You asked shyly.

" Of course darling. I always enjoy your company." Larissa squeezed your hand with a smile ajd carried on driving.

You looked out the window to see all the shimmering night lights and heard the soft rumble of the car. Larissa's perfume was so familiar and comforting that you felt like you could reach out and touch it — maybe hold it forever. Larissa drove carefully on the roads, occasionally glancing over at you to see if you were okay. You arrived in her neighbourhood and drove slowly, eventually pulling into her driveway and shutting off the car. She stuffed her keys in her pocket and lead you out of the car. You followed larissa inside and she put her keys on the hook.

" Follow me, dear. You can have a shower and get some rest. You've had a long night." Larissa placed a gentle hand on your back and guided you upstairs. She showed you to the bathroom and handed you a towel and a pair of her pajamas.

" Thank you so much." You hugged larissa.

She smiled and hugged you back, kissing your cheek. " Anytime darling. I'm only a call away." She looked to you. " Do you fancy a hot chocolate before bed?" Larissa brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

You nodded. " That sounds really nice."

Larissa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, heading downstairs and giving you privacy. You hopped in the shower, feeling the relief of the hot water on your skin, washing off the stress. After showering, you hopped out, grabbing the grey towel. You dried yourself off and got dressed in Larissa's pajamas, feeling how soft they were. You couldn't help but hug yourself and smile slightly at the feeling. You tidied up the bathroom and headed downstairs, holding on the railing for a bit of support. You found Larissa in the kitchen, preparing hot chocolate and a light snack.

" Hello." You greeted softly, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter.

Larissa smiled. " Hello, dear. How was your shower? Do you feel better?" She asked.

" Much. Thank you. Can I help you with anything?" You looked over to Larissa.

She put extra marshmallows in your hot chocolate and handed it to you. " No, darling. Go sit down in the living room. I'll join you in a second." She kissed your forehead and pointed to the living room entrance. You hesitantly obeyed her orders and sat down on the sofa, taking a small sip of your delicious hot chocolate.

Larissa entered the living room a few moments later with a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hand and her own cup of hot chocolate in the other.

" Eat up, darling." She smiled and sat next to you.

" Thank you so much." You took a chocolate chip cookie and bit into it, savoring the taste.

Larissa scooted closer to you and covered both of your laps with the blanket, making sure you were comfortable before wrapping a comforting arm around you. She played with your hair while you sat with her, leaning into her touch. She held you tightly and kissed your cheek.

" You did the right thing to call me, sweetheart. I'm so glad that you did." Larissa spoke softly.

You smiled slightly and took the last sip of your hot chocolate, wrapping your fingers around the warm cup. " Thank you for everything, really."

Larissa smiled and put your cups aside, she lead you upstairs, guiding you as you walked — she didnt want you to trip or fall.

" Okay sweetheart, let's get you tucked in. You look exhausted." Larissa slipped under the covers with you and made sure that you were comfortable. Larissa held you close and kissed your forehead.

" You've had a long night. Get some rest, darling. I'll be right here in the morning. What do you want for breakfast?" She asked.

" Oh, um, I don't mind. You don't have to make me breakfas—"

" I want to dear. You're my guest and you know how much I care for you. How about pancakes?" Larissa began to play with your hair again as you cuddled into her.

" That sounds lovely, thank you." You smiled.

Larissa smiled back and kissed your cheek. " I love you, dear. Sleep tight."

" I love you too, Rissy. Good night." You whispered back. Your eyes shut from exhaustion. You fell into an almost-immediate slumber, surrounded by the comforts of Larissa and safety.

✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*

@winterfireblond @littledollll @blood-red-ocean @ness029 @aemilia19 @barbarasstar @sirclitoressa @im-a-carnivorous-plant

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️❤️

[moonbyunniee]

put your head on my shoulder

characters ➵ kaveh, diluc, ayato, wanderer, thoma, gorou, tighnari, cyno, childe, kaeya, venti, heizou, xiao, zhongli, kazuha, albedo, itto, bennett, xingqiu, chongyun

synopsis ➵ your tired head falls on the stranger's shoulder on the train to work...

a/n ➵ hello again everyone! i haven't been posting any writing in almost four whole months!! i hope you missed me heheh :)) also, i hope it wouldn't be too much to ask for a reblog from your end? it really helps a small blog like mine :D love you all <33

he'd been minding his own business on the train to work, lost in thought about something or the other, when a warm feeling on his right shoulder had broken his train of thought. he'd looked over, and...well, he'd seen...you. he hesitates, glancing at your sleeping body resting on his shoulder. it's not as though he can't bear your weight on him, it's just...the touch is unfamiliar, something he's not used to, something he hasn't felt in what feels like an eternity. he sighs softly as you stir, not knowing whether he should wake you up or let you be. Well...it wouldn't hurt to be accommodating, now, would it?

xiao, zhongli, kazuha, albedo, ayato, diluc

a frown, or a scowl of some sort, is this man's reaction to most everything that happens to him, and he isn't giving this situation a free pass. the second he feels his neighbor seatmate's head drop onto his shoulder, he strikes his signature scowl. curse you for having the audacity to sleep on public transport anyway...why couldn't you just sleep at home? as he turns to shove you off his shoulder, though, he suddenly pauses, seeing your innocent, tired face. he curses himself internally for being so uncharacteristically soft today, but nevertheless changes his mind about shoving you off his shoulder. he'll just tell you to bring an actual pillow next time you choose to sleep on public transport. for now, he automatically stiffens himself, and prepares to lend you his shoulder until he gets to work. but this is only a one-time thing, of course...unless...

kaveh, wanderer

he blinks as he feels your head drop onto his shoulder. he already knows who you are - the tired-looking passenger who always, coincidentally, ends up sitting next to him. still, though, it's not like he knows you at all. he just pays attention to his surroundings better than most. so he finds it as almost second nature to shift himself a little, so you can be comfortable. sure enough, you unconsciously nuzzle your head into the crook between his shoulder and neck, your hair tickling his neck ever so slightly. he smiles softly, before yawning a little himself and resting his head on yours. maybe, he thinks, i could ask for their number when they wake up? just for their haircare products, nothing else...right?

childe, kaeya, venti, heizou, thoma

it takes him quite some time to process what's happening. head...pretty person...my shoulder? then it all comes to him in a tidal wave, and he gasps. ask anyone around the two of you what he acted like, and they'd likely respond with, "just like a high school boy finding his sweetheart!" he immediately went all red, his blush spanning from the back of his neck to his nose. as nearby passengers send him curious glances, he stammers and tries to clarify the situation - a fruitless attempt, really, as it seems he can't even manage to get a single word out. if only you were awake to see the impact your mere touch had on this man...he does, though, eventually calm down enough to let you have a good, undisturbed nap.

gorou, tighnari, cyno, itto, bennett, xingqiu, chongyun

taglist ➵ @melshome @pearlygraysky @whipped-for-fictionals @genshinparty @cosmicgeohoe

send an ask to be added to my taglist!!

[niuniente]

Hi Nui! I'm going to be visiting a friend in Finland in about a month, and was wondering if you had any advice so I don't look like an absolute FOOL to them and all other Finns I run into on said trip (Also, if there's anything I absolutely have to do/try/see while visiting, that would be appreciated!)

These kind of questions always remind me of this Tumblr user whose father went to visit Finland. He learned Finnish and practiced his pronouncing. When he met a Finn and greeted him - very fluently - the Finn asked "Where are you from?"

The father was a bit bummed that his Finnish wasn't as good as he had imagined and asked was it his accent which gave him away? The Finnish guy replied: "You smiled when you said hi".

So, some dos and donts which came to my mind quickly, depending of course a bit where you will be heading and with whom you'll be spending time with. A 60 year old women from East-Finland is going to be different than a 20 year old guy from the capitol :D

Don't touch Finns Forget hugs, cheek kisses etc. with Finns. You may hug your close friends when you meet but it depends on your friends, of course. Don't touch Finns when speaking as we have extremely wide personal space and its violation will not be taken well. Touching another person in Finland is reserved for family members and a spouse/date. A hand shake is most appreciated if needed :3 Give Finns space It's rude in Finland to go too near of unknown people unless you absolutely have to, like in a crowded public transport. Always leave space between you and a Finn.

(Finns waiting for a bus in a rush hour and giving space to each other)

Be quiet and modest Yelling, talking loudly, screaming and being overall loud is considered rude in Finland. Especially in public places. There are others there, don't bother them with your yelling and scream-talking. Being too lively and expressive is considered rude.

Take your shoes off indoors! Extremely important! Don't walk inside with shoes! Leave them in the mudroom. Walking inside to someone's home with shoes on is probably the rudest violation you can do. Even construction workers etc. apologize before getting inside with their work shoes (and those are allowed because they're work shoes).

No small talk, no talking to strangers We don't have small talk pleasantries in Finland. I was just watching The Block from Australia, where every single phone call, with every single person, is always started as "Hi! How are you? Thanks, I'm good, too!" and then you tell why you called. Forget that. Just go to the point :D Don't talk to strangers unless you really have to. There are area differences in this though, and for example in East and South East it is fine to strike a chat with unknown people.

Be honest Now, while polite manners are good in every country, Finnish people appreciate honesty. If you don't, for example, like some food you are offered, you can say "Sorry, but this isn't for me" or "Sorry, I didn't like it that much." A Finn will feel like you're making a fool out of them if you, for example, don't like the food their offer but go "Hmmm, this is so tasty!" The Finn will most likely just feed you more the food you absolutely hate because hey, you said yourself that you liked it! Also, if you need something, ask for it. There was an article on a newspaper years ago about Finnish families who hosted exchange students. When asked had there been any issues, one woman said that they had a student from Japan. When the student went to take a shower, the family forgot to give her a towel. Instead of asking for a towel - because that would be extremely rude in Japan - the girl tried to dry herself with toilet paper, messing the whole bathroom. Now that in Finland is rude - you just made a mess, used a full toilet roll and humiliated the family because you didn't note them that "Excuse me, I need a towel."

Don't talk bad about sauna Sauna is a sacred place. You can say that it's not really your thing but don't talk shit about sauna. Again, would you want to go to sauna but you want to wear a towel, say so. Finns will understand.

Apartment buildings and house areas have Law of Silence for the nighttime All Finnish apartments have a silence time. It's a law and if you (or your guests or pets) constantly violate that, you will be evicted, especially if you are a tenant. Avoid loud noise between 10pm to 7am. While it's not illegal to take a shower between 10pm and 7am, if you can take a shower before 10pm or after 7am, please do so. That's being polite towards neighbors and that's how most of the Finns live.

We don't have a word for please Finnish language is straight to the point and doesn't have a word for please. When speaking English in Finland, you can drop "please" out from it. Would you want to be very polite in Finnish, you can use kiitos (thank you) in customer service for please. But otherwise, just ask for what you want without any sugar coating - that's not rude but honest :3 (I so struggle to use normal polite language in English because it doesn't make any sense to me lol)

Watch out for pickpockets in Helsinki If you come to Helsinki, watch out for pickpockets, especially during summer. During summer many criminal groups arrive from East Europe to Helsinki to steal stuff from tourists. You need to be mindful only in the central and tourist attraction spots, though.

Anything you can imagine comes lactose free! Not really a guide but just a little note that if you can't have lactose, Finland is full of lactose free products. Stores have a little L on the price labels for Lactose Free products. Laktoositon = Lactose free. Overall, all kind of different food restrictions are well handled in Finland.

I like to say that if you didn't do it in Japan, because it's considered rude or distributive, don't do it in Finland either and you'll be fine :3 Except for saying what you mean and meaning what you say.

[thechaoticplayer]

Stressed Out!

Author's note: eheh... Shu yamino brain rot rawr- for that one person who requested this (I totally forgot I'm sorry I have the memory of a rock) kinda got rushed at the end bc I was riding this whilst on public transportation :D

Summary: Shu has been awfully stressed lately, with all the rigid schedules and barely any sleep- however you offer a great idea to soothe our beloved sorcerer (sorcerer? I barely even know her)

Contains: nsfw content, blowjob, riding him, FILTH, I'm gonna devour this man whole ahem sorry, praising, not very rough sex, x fem reader, Shu yamino x reader, established relationship, sub! shu

None of my works are proofread!

'Shu seems unusually stressed,' you think to yourself, watching your boyfriend wash the dishes in the kitchen. Your chin propped up on your palms as you study his weary figure. You've noticed the bags underneath his eyes, which about intensifies the exhausted aura around him. You tried to wash the dishes yourself, but he protested, saying he was alright.

Which was bullshit. Shu always took care of you, so now it's your turn to take care of him.

You stand up from your chair by the counter, sauntering over to the back of him. You wrap your arms around his mid riff, pressing your chest against his back. Shu visibly stiffens for a moment, and then relaxes into your touch, rocking back and forth.

"Baby, you need to relax. You're such a workaholic," you mumble, ear against his back to hear his steady heartbeat.

"I just have a couple more things to do, don't worry about me," Shu replies, tossing a smile over his shoulder. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he scrubs. "Then after that, I promise to relax and snuggle with you. Okay?"

You grumble, squeezing him hard and forcing him to grunt. "No. After you're done with those dishes, you're coming with me."

Shu glances back at you, using his magic to make the dish float into the dishwasher. "But-"

"No buts. Unless you rather me ignore you for the next week?" You threaten, arching a brow at him.

He shakes his head instantaneously. "Of course not!"

"Good." You give his back a light kiss. "I hate it when my boyfriend is so troubled. It's my duty to help you, you know."

"I know," Shu sighs, rinsing a bowl. "It's just between streaming and taxes and errand shopping... there's a lot for me to do."

"I can do all of those things."

"I know you can but..."

"But what?"

Shu puts away the final dish, drying his hands off. You back away so he can turn to face you. He scratches his neck. "It's just... I feel like I need to be the one to do things for you. I'm your boyfriend. I need to make sure you have all your needs met."

"I'm your girlfriend. I need to make sure your needs are met too," you counter, taking his hands in yours. Shu stares at your joined hands. "Being in a relationship doesn't mean one person has to do all the heavy lifting. Both have to shoulder each other's burdens and take care of each other. A two way street, if you will."

Shu tilts his head, watching you closely. A small smile adorns his face. He tugs you closer to you and brushes his lips against your forehead. "Thank you."

You beam at him happily and begin to guide Shu to the bedroom. "You're welcome! Now follow me."

The sorcerer obediently follows, your hand intertwined in his. You kick open the door dramatically, eliciting a exuberant laugh from him. You shuffle to the bed, plop down, and yanking him down with you. Shu lands beside you on his side and he laughs harder. You shift onto your side to face him, watching his face glow.

Shu slowly stops, his eyes traveling your face. A slight blush dusts his cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" You blink.

"Like..." Shu's gaze darts to the ceiling for a second. Then looks back at you. "With hearts in your eyes."

"Because I love you silly," you answer, a hand cupping his cheek. Shu nuzzles into it and you giggle. "I want to take care of you and love you."

His blush deepens and it he looks just so cute! You move closer to him, your nose bumping his. The sorcerer looks at you with slightly wide eyes, appearing like a startled cat. A puff of laughter brushes against his face from you. Shu's hand finds its home on the dip of your waist just as you lean in for a kiss.

It was gentle, and his lips were soft. A sign of affection and endearment. It was brief as you pulled back, however Shu chased your lips into another kiss, this time deeper and passionate. He almost seemed desperate.

You had to pull away for air, nearly gasping as your own cheeks warmed. Staring at each other with half-lidded eyes.

"Please..." A whisper so faint, you thought you weren't hearing right. The sorcerer's hand squeezed your waist, and you knew you were hearing right.

He needed you. And you knew exactly what to do.

You climb atop of your boyfriend, your mouth against his yet again. A soft whine muffled as you perch on him, one hand traveling down from his collarbone, down to his stomach. Shu's muscles tense underneath your touch.

Your lips ghost over his jawline, pressing a soft kiss there. Then your kisses trail down to the spot right under his ear. A little nip at the sensitive skin makes his breath hitch and you smile.

Your fingers dance across his stomach before sliding down to his pants. Just from touch alone, you can feel the tent growing underneath his sweatpants. And as you do so, Shu's hips jolt up slightly. You slowly circle the area before palming him through his pants.

"Mm..." A soft moan. You grip him gently and trace the tip, and the precum seeps through the fabric. His legs twitch as you continue your ministrations.

The sorcerer pants heavily, eyelids drooping and a red flush on his face as you stroke him, as well as kissing down his neck. Shu seems awfully sensitive to each of your touches. And very vocal.

"Baby please..." Shu whispers, bucking his hips up.

"Please what my love?" You coo, making him even more redder.

"I want you to..." he trails off, turning his head as if he were ashamed. His long hair spreads around his head like a halo and you cock your head to the side to look at him.

You hum, a slight puzzled look on your face. Shu glances back at you, biting his lip. Thinking if he should ask this of you or not.

"Do you want me to...?" Your nails drag across his pants, to the waistband and carefully tug down. Shu practically stops breathing, but doesn't tell you to stop.

You continue pulling down the waistband of both his sweats and boxers, his hard erection springing out. You could see every individual vein pulsing, the pre cum leaking from the rosy tip. You scoot backwards, one foot on the floor, then the other. You kneel on the floor, taking his base in a hand. Shu gets up on his elbows, watching with his chest heaving.

You squeeze and a low moan escapes your boyfriend. You trace a vein with a finger, then slip his length in your mouth. The reaction you get him from is perfect. A high whimper and Shu's head thrown back, hips slanted upward. You bob your head up and down, your tongue flattening against your boyfriend's tip. As you swallow him, you pump the base and beautiful noises exit from Shu's lips. His hand takes your hair, moving it out of your face.

"Feel so good, oh god," Shu gasps, shaking on his elbows. "D-doing so good- mm!"

You suck gently on the head of his cock and the sorcerer mewls, the sweetest noise you've heard. Your stomach flips, rubbing your thighs together as the heat flames in the bottom of your tummy.

With a wet pop, Shu's length pops out your mouth as you climb back on top of him. Your boyfriend watches you with a hand covering his mouth, ears bright pink. You quickly pull off your pants and panties, lining up his dick with your entrance.

Your boyfriend's eyes widen. "W-wait-!"

You descend upon his length and you both moan in unison. You can feel him in your walls, pulsing and stretching you out deliciously. Shu's hands grip your hips hard, his nails digging into your skin. His eyes shut, and you can see tears forming in the corners. With just one roll of your hips, the sorcerer has fallen apart.

"A-ah, baby, just like that," he moans, a mix of whimpers from his throat. "Please please please please-"

You begin to bounce up and down, slick covering his length and pelvis. Shu's head falls back onto the sheets as your core begins to milk his cock. Clenching around his erection, Shu was already so sensitive that within seconds he cums hard, a guttural moan ripping from his throat. Strings of his knot coats your insides and you gasp at the feeling. You slow down, the tightness in your stomach forming but you have already done what you needed.

"G-go ahead," Shu breathes, looking at you with pieces of his hair sticking to his forehead.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, your hands on his stomach. "But you already... came."

Shu shakes his head, slowly sitting up and the head of his cock kisses your g-spot. You bite your lip. "Want you to cum too."

You nod, before raising your hips down and dropping down. Shu swallows back his whines, not minding being overstimulated if it meant your enjoyment too. The relationship goes two ways, right?

"Just a bit- m-more," you whisper in his ear with stuttered breaths. A groan in response. You roll your hips and the tightness in your stomach just nearly gets there- you drop yourself onto his length again and you release, vision sparking white as you moan.

You collapse against him, Shu holding you in his arms as he falls back onto the mattress, trying to regain his breath. The sorcerer was still sheathed inside you, but neither of you made the move to... well move.

"Thank you so much," Shu whispers in your ear, kissing your temple lovingly. "It felt so good. I loved it."

You smile cheerfully. "I'm glad."

After a trip to the shower and getting into pajamas, you two cuddle together and watched movies for the rest of the day.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for selling my ex-friend's stuff? (TW: Brief mention of sexual assault)

[⛅ for recognizability]

I (NB, 20) had a friend who we will call M (F, 25) two years ago. She moved to my country, mostly for personal reasons and to be close to her at-the-time gf, and I lived in a small town a couple of hours away via public transport.

M has BPD, and after she and her girlfriend broke up after just a few months together IRL, started spiraling into a psychotic episode. I don't really blame her, and I was a bad friend during that period too (I have severe anger management issues), but I bacame sort of D's maid?

She would call me at any time of the day demanding my presence even though I had a hard time leaving my place, due to severe anxiety and the fact that is kind of isolated, and transportation is not available at all times of day.

I would be the main person cleaning her house, despite not living in it. One time I didn't show up for two weeks bc I was dealing with my grandmother's cancer, and then, I had to eradicate a fungal infection from her sink.

She moved a lot of times bc she was living off AirBnBs, and I had to package all her stuff. Sometimes she left me alone in the process.

I would have to order take out for her, becouse she refused to cook and also didn't want to do the necessary process for being able to order it herself.

We had about six months of that, before M tried something with me that was trigger (and she was aware it was, we had talked about this) even after I said no multiple times. I tried to work out my friendship with M afterwards, and continued to help them through their situation, but two months afterwards she moved back to her country of origin, being mostly alone here.

Now, I have about 7 square meters of space in my current living situation, and M left me a lot of her stuff + an exotic pet "to return to her if she ever came back". It physically could not fit in my room.

A few weeks after she left I asked if she wanted it shipped, and she said I could throw it away for all she cared about. Taking it as a sing she didn't want it anymore, I got in contact with her ex and returned her items, rehomed her pet to a loving family (the current owner is a vet who specializes on her spices, and I did a tourough fallow up), and sold the rest of Ms stuff that I had no use for, outside of some objects I knew had sentimental value to her.

Two years later, she is asking for all of it back. I told her I don't have all of it anymore, but would be happy to mail her what I still have out of my own pocket. She got mad and called me all sorts of awful shit, what should I do?

What are these acronyms?

[bumblebeeappletree]

For those who enjoy cottagecore, please read what I have to say.

As you may or may not know, cottagecore has stemmed from colonist ideals, is racist, and has ties to tradwives. However I will not go in depth on it as it has already been talked about in a few articles and some posts on tumblr. The articles are here, here, here, and here. The tumblr posts can be found here, here, here, here, and here. However I say this person, Zoe Bee, has done a really good job on her video here as she summed up everything I already linked before.

I will say this article came out more recently if you wanted something newer about tradwives.

In this current day and age it’s understandable to want what cottagecore promotes with its aesthetic. Beautiful flowers as far as the eye can see, a garden you tailored yourself that you like specifically, billowing dresses, cute animals that provide you eggs and milk, and so on. Especially having your own house is very appealing at a time where it’s unattainable for many people. But going out where you’re isolated from everyone, with just yourself and your animals, is not the answer. Going out to land that once belonged to indigenous people who have not been able to go back home is not the answer. Continuing to think of ideals of the past is not the answer.

Instead what we can do is transform cities to be more green, safe for people, and work with the environment around it. This is the answer. To move forward. To think of the future and create it.

One of the first things we should do is improve accessibility. As you know not everyone can walk, see, or hear as a few examples. Having better public transportation is important to ensure everyone is able to get to where they need to. As it stands being in a city, not everyone has enough spoons, or ability, to walk where they can go. Trains are very popular, especially when it comes to going to other cities or towns. However when it comes to North America compared to Europe it’s not as widespread. Trams (or streetcars or trolleys if you’re from North America) are also a wonderful example. We must be able to ensure that entryways are large enough for even the biggest set of wheelchairs to go through. Ramps for easy access are important as well as wheelchairs cannot simply “step up” into vehicles. And this is not just for wheelchairs, it would be good for parents who are taking their baby or small child around in a stroller. There’s also those who use walkers, people with wheeled luggage, carts and so forth.

But most importantly, it is vital for people with disabilities to be part of the designing process of a city, to ensure that their voices are heard and to ensure they take part in that everyday easy access that most abled people already enjoy. Like Braille, audio description, large print, and subtitles as a ready option that’s there from the get go.

Another thing with more access to public transportation, people would need cars less and less. And should they need to go somewhere a train or tram cannot, buses are still options. However with fewer cars, the roads would be used less. Parking lots would be smaller. We could a: make roads and parking lots smaller; b: take out roads and parking lots completely; c: transform roads and parking lots into community spaces; or d: do a mixture of all of the above. Some roads could turn back into the wild environment that existed there before, while we could turn parking lots into more parks. Streets could be like they were before cars became mainstream, where street vendors would sell their wares, where children would play games, and anyone would hang out. Parking lots could become a space for events like farmer’s markets or a place to shoot off fireworks. Or even instead of parks in place of parking lots, it could be transformed into a community garden.

When it comes to housing, apartment complexes are where we should go in cities. To keep from city sprawl, we can go up. We can transform rooftops to community gardens, water harvesting spaces, solar panel spaces, or a community space.

However in some spaces, like in the suburbs, or even some spaces where there are houses in a neighborhood in a city, we can turn them into “pockethoods”. We can turn a neighborhood into a village. In the city we could have tiny houses on the same plot of land one house would typically be on. In a regular neighborhood, picture a series of houses without fencing and the series of backyards turn into a common area.

We can plant more trees alongside sidewalks, both fruit producing and pollen producing, more fruit bearing than pollen bearing, to help keep the allergies down and to keep a variety of plants. We can plant native species in cities, and we can have non-natives in our community gardens, or even inside city farms, for both practical use, such as eating or creating fibers, or enjoyment, like flowers to cut into bouquets. We can create rain gardens to help collect rainwater to put back into our water table.

I know that cottagecore lovers love the idea of going out into the country and perhaps finding a community there, but the cities are here, we’ve been here. It’s people’s homes, their lives. Cities have been around for such a long time, one of the most well known oldest city is Mesopotamia’s Babylon. (Very famous for their hanging gardens I might add.) Most importantly it can be done. Even now we can go talk to neighbors, go to events others are holding, or even create our own events, create a big pot of food to share with others, and have community. We can make a difference and we can have that sense of love. We just need to band together, demand change, and create our change. It can be hard, yes, but it will be so rewarding. This, you might find yourself doing, is something that aligns more with Solarpunk. Something that people look to strive for a brighter future for everyone.

Thank you.

(And thank you so much @cwicseolfor for helping me edit this TT^TT)

[cheesus-doodles]

Uuuuhhhhhh izana relationship hcs? Like when reader and izana was still dating.

comfort posting.... i hate this ride im on - these HCs can be for both regular darling or boss from the Reds' universe! not edited, i will when i wake up tmr zzz

‎

Red Dragonflies Masterlist | Masterlist

‎

In a Relationship with Izana HCs

Yandere Izana

dating the 8th President of the Black Dragons is as wild a ride as it sounds, because Izana plays by no other rules but his own

not that you knew when you first accepted his hand

the only person that Izana has ever considered his equal, you can be sure that this boy has never seen you as below him even once ever since you caught his eye

the light of his life, its your bright smile and loving hugs that keeps him from spiralling completely into madness

he loves you so, so much - every waking moment he is apart from you is spent thinking about what you're doing and when he can see you again

Izana looks forward to nothing more than doting on you more and more, and of course, having you dote on him

this usually brutal, uncaring gang leader melts away into a soft, needy boy around you - even if he is the middle of a gang meeting, everything stops so that he can carefully take your delicate hand into his

needs you to be threading your fingers through his hair while he is cuddling, needs you to give him all the kisses (both light pecks on his lips and cheeky ones on the top of his head)

needs you to let him hug and cuddle and kiss you on your shoulder and your lips and breathe in your scent

maybe even to nibble on your collarbone and the shell of your ears so that everyone would know who you belonged to

a very clingy boy, if he can get away with being superglued to your side, he will

wants to follow you everywhere, fingers lightly trailing on your skin below your shirt or holding your hand no matter what you were doing

tries to follow you into the bathroom as well, hadn't worked so far

can't sleep well without being huddled right up against you, listening to your breaths trail off into light snores

will absolutely make a scene if he's right there and your full attention is not on him - from whining and whimpering, pulling on your clothes, gently tugging on your hair, burying his face into your chest all the way to throwing a full fit, the whole waterworks or grabbing whoever dared steal your attention from him by the collar and demanding they leave immediately

he is your boyfriend, not this piece of scum

its a cold day in hell when Izana doesn't accompany you throughout the school day, insisting that you seat in his lap while he seats in your chair, or cuddling and having a nap in yours

your teachers and classmates have learnt to ignore him a long time ago

even rarer that you don't also find this white-haired boy already busy intimidating every last male schoolmate walking out your school gates while leaned against his motorbike

because you know he will make the special effort to come every day - despite knowing that you loved him as much as he did you, his ingrained trust issues were hard to shake

what if some shithead thought he could pick on you? unlikely, given he had the Black Dragons personally intimidate and threaten every last student in your cohort

but what if you fell and no one helped you? or what if someone else thought it was a good idea to make a move on what was his when he wasn't present?

plus you're not allowed to ride a motorcycle yourself, or anyone else's, and Izana doesn't trust the public transportation system as far as he could throw a bus

still there were occasions that Izana just couldn't be there for you, but you can be sure that your phone would be endlessly pinging with messages and pictures and voice recordings from him

please respond to this baby boy, he's just worried okay

needs to know that you're fine and you miss him too

would never dream of doing or showing anything that would scare you away from him

to you, he'll always be your kind, loving boyfriend, not the scary, brutal Black Dragons President

you definitely know about him and his ties to the gang, and you accept him for who he is

but you would never find out about the less than legal dealings they conduct in the dark underbelly of society

and no one cares to find out what would happen should they let slip to you what Izana really gets up to without you around

if Izana doesn't pick you up at school, you usually make your own way over to the Black Dragons hideout to check if he's hanging out here

which means a scramble for the rest of the gang to hide away any broken bodies and weapons and clean up the area of blood, narcotics and other very illegal stuff while he wanders over to meet you at the entrance to their usual haunt

sometimes you call ahead, sometimes you don't, but its a mini heart attack every time there's a polite, quiet knock on the rusted metal doors to their hideout

Izana had a knocker installed after throwing a fit about you potentially cutting yourself on the sharp edges, though you were thankfully there and able to quickly calm and comfort him back down

no one else is allowed to use it except you - they know better than to touch something that is for your use only

Izana tells no one anything when it comes to you, but every last Black Dragon member knows the unique ringtone that is tied to your call - easy since its a recording of you calling Izana's name

wouldn't trust any Black Dragon member with you or your safety - everyone except Inupi, his right hand man, is not even allowed to look at you on the promise of pain

doesn't want anyone to taint you with their bloodied hands and dirty, filthy selves

no one but him is allowed to accept your offered hand

the other boys have thought about calling you down to calm their angered leader from time to time, especially when he is being particularly cruel to them - they know that even just a glimpse of you and everything would be right in the world again

but of course no one ever does - you would never lie to Izana, and if he ever finds out that one of them dared to even lay their lowly eyes on your number, let alone talk to you

a new body in the morgue would be the least of their concerns

wants nothing more than to give you the world on a silver platter, this baby boy is happy to be involved in anything you do

whatever you want to do is what he wants to do as well

would pull you away from your work to get you to go out on an impromptu date with him; needless to say its tough to get your assignments completed on time with Izana around, and you sometimes have to wrestle with your boyfriend to let you finish your work first

no rules apply to him after all - and therefore none should apply to you either

every last cent he earns from his less than legal activities (not that you know of at least) is another cent Izana gladly showers you with, no matter if you insisted that he saved the money instead, whether you want it or not

would cry if you don't accept his gifts, so please just take them and tell him thank you, and give him a kiss

he'll still steal one more from you

all in all 100% soft boy when it comes to you

that is as long as you aren't trying to leave him, or his wild mind hinting at that

You were fast asleep again, Izana mused, lightly brushing a strand of hair away from your face. Propped up against his shoulder, where you had been seated for the past hour or so, your light snores echoed even in this room filled with over three hundred men, the gentle evening light that filtered through the small gaps in the worn roof dancing across your relaxed face. They knew better to dare make a sound that could wake you from your slumber, even this piece of trash that had one arm painfully twisted and pinned behind his back - though that was most likely the work of the dirty gag haphazardly stuffed in his mouth and tied around the back of his head.

Definitely the gag, Izana thought, trailing one tanned thumb across your soft lips - there was no way this piece of rotten strawberry could tolerate the thrashing he was given without a peep, let alone the ... tender care dished out after, courtesy of his gang.

The change in atmosphere was palpable as the Black Dragon President's empty violet eyes swung from you to the whimpering, quivering scum on the floor in front of him - this insect had dared to spit words to you at school when he thought no one was listening, to sully your delicate ears with vulgarities. The heel of Izana's boot only ground further and harder into the other's open palm, a sense of satisfaction warming his chest when the bone underheel gave way with a loud crack, a fresh wave of tears and muffled screams bursting through the makeshift gag from your defiler.

If Izana had his way, this smudge of dirt wouldn't live to see another sunrise - he was far from done with his revenge on your behalf - but it seemed his time was up, as you stirred from your place huddled against him. The wave of dismissal from the Black Dragon President sent a sigh of relief rippling through the gathered members, each boy sending a hush prayer to whoever was looking out for them as they quickly shuffled away, eyes fixed to the ground, eager to put as much distance as they could between them and you: saved again by the skin of their teeth.

The room was emptied within minutes, with Inupi dragging that wretched soul off for some good ol' fashioned bonding time, the newest splatter of blood across old cement floors rinsed off as best they could before the remnants were hastily covered up with a fresh layer of sand. And every wrong committed was wiped clean before you groggily sat up, Izana's arm wrapped lightly around your waist to support a disorientated you.

"Awake, sleepyhead?" He whispered into your ear, pressing a light kiss to your temple.

"Mmm -Izzy?" Sleepily rubbing your eyes, you let out a yawn as you stretched, tiredly glancing around the empty warehouse. "Where is everyone?"

"They all left."

Your eyes flew wide open, and you lifted your phone hurriedly to your face, almost dropping it in the process. "Wha- why didn't you wake me? What time is it?"

Adorable, was all Izana could think of, lazily watching from behind long lashes and hooded eyes as your cheeks flushed, you apologising again and again for keeping him here. You were such a cute little thing, and you were all his. Just his. Leaning forward and stealing a kiss from you, it was cute to watch the gears turn in your head through those doe eyes for yours, plus with the added benefit of stemming the tide of words. "It's no matter. We're going to that festival tonight anyway. Can't be too tired for that."

Shaking yourself out of your stupor, that small bright smile he so loved instantly lit up your face as you threw your arms around him, shyly returning his kiss with a short peck. "I forgot," You admitted, releasing him as you turned to pick up your school bag, which he quickly stole from your hand to throw on one shoulder. And as if on cue, your stomach let out a rumble as Izana pulled you up to your feet - you hadn't had anything since lunch after all. "Should we get something to eat first?"

Gently taking your offered hand in his, you led him out those vast metal doors and into the last light of the setting sun.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Happenstance

Hondo Ohnaka x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are a rich heiress with daddy issues; Hondo is an ex-pirate without purpose. Your fates are intertwined, and soon you will be too, unless the hired help can’t keep her mouth shut. Will your relationship advance, or is your meeting purely happenstance?

Content warning: 18+ / NSFW for alcohol / mention of drugs, fingering in a public place, kissing, blowjobs, dry humping, tit sucking, cunnilingus, PiV sex, daddy issues, alcoholic parent, neglectful parent, caught in the act, stealing, and HEAVY simping. Reader is WEALTHY. Reader's parents are at some point present in this fic. No physical description other than the fact she has a decent pair of tits.

Word count: 23.4k (SORRY)

Notes: Oh My God. I started this fic last Spring Break when I was still in graduate school, if you recall, and I just managed to finish it this week -- almost a year to the day. Don't ask me how it got to 23,000 words, but -- SO SORRY. I edited it to the best of my ability.

This is the longest single thing I have written with only two small breaks as a continuous story. I read Pirate's Price / listened to the audiobook version, and was inspired. Hondo lives rent-free in my head, as does Cad Bane. I should mention the bit about Hondo hiding his true intentions behind his goggles is an idea @allsystemsblue had some time ago and I agree. They are like a shield, barring view into his soul.

P.S.: Yes, I had to throw in a Cad Bane / Duros mention, and yes I threw in a scene in a library. I couldn't help myself. ;D

Read on Ao3

Ah, what a perfect evening for a teensy bit of excitement of another sort. Smooth jizz music provided a delightfully mellow atmosphere, the accompaniment of moderate lighting helping to facilitate a most relaxing experience. This particular high-priced cantina was bathed in a wash of dark hues and tantalizing scents, however one individual scent stood out from all the others - it was the unmistakable and arousing smell of profit! Hondo Ohnaka knew this odorous perfume like the back of his scaly hand – which was quite  well, in fact – and this time it had decided to take on the form of a beautiful woman wearing a rather priceless heirloom around her supple neck.

Oh, but this was no ordinary woman and no ordinary heirloom! This woman was one of the wealthiest women in the galaxy by no fortune of her own, and the priceless object she wore around her graceful neck was none other than a fragment of Life-crystal, a valuable stone only procured from one planet by the name of Rafa from the aptly labeled Life-orchards. Hondo only knew this from eavesdropping on the greedy aristocracy that populated this little rock. She was an heiress who most likely had many riches to her name; it was too tempting to pass up such an easy target. 

Despite the lore and interesting stories ascribed to the jewel in her possession, the important thing was that these Life-crystals sold for exorbitant amounts of credits on the black market from Batuu to Scarif, and it was this object that called to him like no other. Currently. As far as Hondo was concerned, that crystal belonged with him – that is, until he sold it – which hopefully would be as soon as possible once he laid his twitchy, ring-laden fingers on it. 

The crimson coated devil took note of his surroundings, drinking in the scenery, the song, the “ambiance,” if you will, as he mentally prepared himself for the task – or rather, game – at hand. This flashy establishment was situated in the middle of the entertainment district on Oseon 6845, the largest asteroid in the Oseon System. It was spattered with opulent hotels, stately residences, and venues for shopping, dining, gambling, and so much more. 

It was not important how he arrived here, but it was important that he find a means of transport on his way out. Hondo would no doubt have to make a quick getaway and possibly even a daring escape should the worst case scenario happen to occur – the one where he was caught red-handed!  It never hurt to think ahead.

Hondo recalled seeing an XS stock light freighter snugly nestled in its docking bay back at the local spaceport, not to mention many luxury starships. This thought somewhat quelled the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach, though the pirate oftentimes felt butterflies before any sort of risky activity! The thrill, the chase - the not-knowing-what was-going-to-happen-next part – all very addicting and quite satisfying at the end of a hard day’s “work.”

Presently, however, his attention was captured by the thing he sought – all in due time for everything else – knowing that it was in his best interest to focus on one criminal undertaking at a time, though he was of course capable of multitasking. Adjusting his sleeves in turn and flicking a speck of something off the ornate cuff link of his decadent outerwear, Hondo sized up the fine specimen before him with a tilt of his head and a twinkle in his eye; it was just visible beyond thick black rectangles and reinforced transparisteel. 

This lovely creature who leisurely sipped her Toniray carried with her an air of… something. Nobility? No. Regality? Definitely not. Ennui? Perhaps. Or maybe it was an overwhelming sense of entitlement. Regardless, Hondo stepped forward with hands clasped firmly behind his back, unable to help his poor posture after all these years. He supposed he looked a bit out of place, what with his eclectic fashion sense and the swagger in his step, but that had never stopped him before, and it most certainly would not stop him now! It was then the Weequay had a unique thought: he could use her apparent boredom to his advantage. What that clearly entailed he had only a few seconds to figure out as she had already laid her eyes on him. And what captivating eyes they were. 

Oh, this would be easy, he realized, like taking candy from a youngling. He almost felt guilty – almost being the keyword here – but he had not too long ago disabled his pirate’s honor! There was no turning back for Hondo, not once his mind was made up once and for all!

That is, unless there was some unforeseen issue… one that he did not realize until it was already too late… 

Luckily, as of right. this. very. moment, that was not the case! The scoundrel had set his intentions. By the subtle shift in this woman’s posture  - the miniscule nuances of her body language – he knew – oh, he knew -- she would be receptive to the most fun game of all: the art; the craft of double-tongued seduction! This night may turn out to be awfullllly interesting indeed, he mused. 

--- 

A man approached you – if you could call him a man. He was not human, but Weequay, although he was dressed very peculiarly. You had been lounging with an expensive, rare, and azure Alderaanian wine. At a thousand credits a glass, it was nothing you could not afford as you were the daughter of a weapon’s dealer and manufacturer; your father had a contract with the Empire. You had not worked a day in your short life though boredom had set in. 

Your eyes traveled over this odd fellow, noting despite his eccentric look he was rather handsome in a sort of rugged, cavalier way. If you were being honest, this being having locked his sights on you like one of your father’s heatseeking missiles was the most exciting thing to have happened to you all week long. 

Though you were rich, your life was one of tedium and endless irritation mostly brought on by the rest of your family. You had your small pleasures, your haunts, and your dirty little secrets, but overall your days were dreary and uneventful. In fact, you did not have a good relationship with the majority of your siblings and your father’s work consumed him. You still harbored resentment for how many birthdays he had missed.

Considering these facts, you discreetly straightened your posture, taking another sip of your chosen beverage to project a façade of casual impassivity; there was no sense in appearing desperate for his regard. 

“Forgive me ef I am intruding – dhough as you sit alone, I du not believe dat I am -” the man began, pausing before you, “- but I couldn't help but notice your long face from across de room.” He offered a bow of his head, his right arm lifting ever so slowly for his bedecked digits to gently clasp and raise your hand. He planted a kiss against the back of it; your heart instantly fluttered despite yourself -- you had been disarmed. “A flower as radiant as you should not be made tu suffer so. Tell me, what ails you, my dear?” 

“Are you always so bold?” you asked without thinking, much to your regret. You were used to being approached by others, it came with the territory. Your family was famous in this system, and someone was always trying to inch their way into your admittedly small social circle.  However, in this instance you were intrigued, a little off-put, but also very much enjoying the attention of this dashing sentient. You did not try to dislodge your fingers from his grasp; you allowed him to naturally release your hand of his own accord.

The stranger smiled - or rather, grinned devilishly - revealing his pearly whites alongside shining gold. Your eyebrows raised ever so lightly in surprise, you having instinctually drawn your arm back once the man had finished with his somewhat antiquated mode of greeting; he was treating you as if you were some fair maiden in a holomovie from times of old, yet you were anything but. “Ah, yes, you see, bold es my middle name – one of dem, for I have many – alongside bastard, and scoundrel, and ‘hey you, get back here!’ Et es one of de… nicer tings I have been called.” 

The man settled in, resting one elbow casually on the bar top next to where you sat, fingers snapping briskly together as he called to the Duros behind the counter. “A drink, I tink!” Then, returning his attention to you, he lowered his voice, a low-pitched baritone replacing the sharper notes he had used seconds earlier to address the server. “But you ded not answer any of my questions. I am so curious tu know… what could make such a beautiful woman frown so very, very hard…” 

He trailed off, feigning he did not know anything about the preposterous amounts of money your family supposedly had to its name; he was amazed you were sitting here alone. Perhaps you had a bit of a rebellious streak. The one thing that made sense to him was that this “planet” was full of the well-to-do. Such little riffraff passed through Oseon, you had no need for bodyguards or security measures - unlike your father – perhaps a mistake. A mistake that would cost you quite a lot of credits! 

Yet, Hondo felt you should feel lucky. He was a rogue, a thief, a technically ex-pirate, but he would not be any of those things at the risk of your physical harm. No, no! He was not that kind of brigand, not anymore! Mental harm, perhaps. Harm to your ego - to your pocketbook - but that is where he drew the line! 

In fact, as of late, he had the thought of starting up a legitimate business of his own. 

Of course, he would require funds to undertake such a venture… There would be overhead costs - things he would need to purchase or otherwise procure by different means – and he was sure your little trinket would help to offset anything he could not ordinarily afford.

Yes, yes, he had nearly sold the Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano into slavery knowing that she would catch the eye of a… certain type of person. Yes, he had objectified and sexualized many species, including his own, both men and women – not to mention all his other crimes -  but! But, but, but, but, buttt! That was all behind him – pun intended – or so he liked to think! He supposed there was always a chance some impossibly-hard-to-ignore opportunity might present itself, but until. that. time, Hondo Ohnaka was a gentleman. 

It was when the server arrived that, unfortunately, Hondo realized he was rather short on credits, and that this fine venue was a little bit too rich for his jet-black blood. Under most circumstances, he would have ordered anyway, started a tab to walk out on later, convinced his latest victim-er-friend to buy him one, or merely walked behind the bar and poured it himself, yet today - today -  he decided to tell the truth. It was far more exciting that way, and excitement appeared to be the very thing you needed, for Hondo was rarely wrong in that respect. 

“Excuse me, my sweet,” he interrupted before you could even begin to answer his previous query, “but would you mind paying for dis old pirate’s drink? Credits are… so hard tu come by dese days. What you are having es fine,” he finished with another arresting smile. 

You sat quietly, captivated. Your brain needed a moment to catch up. You absentmindedly waved a hand to the bartender, asserting that it was OK, and to put it on your tab. The Duros produced another glass of Toniray, nearly the color of its scales, and the self-proclaimed pirate merrily swiped it from her outstretched hand before there was a chance to set it down. He took a measured swig then inspected it up close, drawing the imported wine near to his weathered goggles. “Ah, a fine vintage,” he declared. “Very rare and expensive, I presume.” 

“A thousand credits a glass,” you said offhand, twisting the stem of your flute against the bar top. The pirate nearly spat out his next sip of wine, though that would have been a waste, so instead he nearly choked while swallowing. 

“I daresay, dat es …more dan I anticipa-”

“-you’re welcome,” you interjected, the smallest of simpers curling the corner of your mouth. You took the opportunity to allow yourself another drink, watching him carefully over the rim of your pricey beverage. Even though you came off cool and collected, inside you felt a tingle of something akin to delight. You had never seen a pirate before, much less talked to one. Despite your station in life, you were more or less sheltered. The number of times you had stepped foot off this damned rock could be counted on one hand. 

“Oh-ho-ho, a woman with expensive tastes! On dat we can relate.” 

“On account of you being a pirate?” you inquired.

The way this Weequay’s smile split his face in twain should have been alarming, the brightness of his expression more luminous than the light of a thousand suns. He chuckled from the seat of his belly, throwing back another gulp of Toniray before he gazed at you with steely eyes, a twinkle residing deep within.

“As my beloved mother always used tu say, all dat glitters es not gold! Sometimes, et es someting even more valuable, like a much-needed vacation, or an interesting conversation,” the devil claimed, gesticulating with his hand as he circled back to his main point. “But, more importantly, de… company of a most gorgeous woman for de evening, hm?”

“Oh, is that why you’re here?” you teased. “You’ve decided to make a pass at me? And here I thought my ‘long face’ had you concerned.”

“My dear,” the nameless man began, the lush complexity of his timbre sending a shiver down your spine. “Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, even toned. His sudden seriousness caught you by surprise considering the circumstances. 

Your expression mimicked your abrupt change in mood, a slight look of embarrassment crossing your features as you stumbled to come up with an answer. This prompted the man to laugh so boisterously that the volume of his mirth caused you to startle in your seat. But you would be remiss if you failed to admit that the stern shade he had taken with you stirred something primal that could not so easily be explained. 

“Hondo does. not. lie,” the character before you blurted out, “he merely stretches de truth on occasion. But!” he continued, “enough about me, for now – though I am so very interesting – what of you, madam?” 

What Hondo failed to comprehend or notice - though the pirate could be said to always notice everything - was the reason for your sudden slack jawed stare. Your brain was whirring with memories – memories of your childhood – and the anger your father projected when storming about your house. Before the fall of the Galactic Republic, he had made his fortune selling weapons to both sides, covertly playing the field so well that he earned billions, but there was forever present a sharp thorn in his side.

By this point in your short history, at an age where you were cognizant of politics and war and their respective atrocities and outcomes, you were somewhat disgusted by your family trade. Growing up you had wanted nothing more than to be seen and heard, yet your father was always said to be preoccupied. 

Your disdain for him grew, as well as the company he spearheaded that raked in profits from death and destruction. There was only one thing that gave you a small reprieve and a tiny amount of joy – a household name that was spoken more times than you could count – the source of all your father’s woes and troubles -  a thing that made you smile when nothing else would, and it was the curse of one Pirate King, his title like music to your ears: Hondo Ohnaka, the venerable bane of your patriarch’s existence. And now, here he was, in all his waggish glory. 

One particular hyperspace route, the Shaltin tunnels, ran straight through the Sertar sector, home to Florrum and situated deep within the Outer Rim territories. No matter how many times or how many ways your father tried to deliver his goods to their respective buyers, it seemed the Ohnaka Gang was always there to disrupt his schedule. 

Though he never stepped foot outside his cozy office, more and more men died on route to Syngia Station nearly every day, all thanks to a notorious gang of miscreants. Although some did live to tell the tale, they came back empty-handed time and time again. Whatever wares were aboard those freighters became the personal property of one very crafty Weequay. The rush it gave you to see your father so distressed, the absolute glee you felt as you watched his veins pop out - it was exhilarating. 

It was like some kind of well-deserved revenge for all the wrongs he had committed, and for all those missed birthdays, holidays, and milestones. You loved seeing him so flustered and out of sorts. It was a reward for all the trouble you had to go through. 

For one, your mother was a rather lonely drunk, a lush for lack of a better word, and his absence only further drove her to the bottle. You blamed him for all life’s ails; your eldest brother remained an undisciplined, boorish loaf who wasted his life gambling, and you were stuck here on this Goddamn rock, though he would be the one to receive your family’s fortune in the event of your father’s untimely death.

For once, excitement had come to you. This man you suddenly wanted to kiss so badly had stepped foot into your life, and though he seemed to have no idea who you were or what was about to happen, you were trying and failing to remain calm. 

Still, that look of shock and awe, and something downright strange remained plastered on your face, the scoundrelly fellow shifting his body weight as he gave you an incredulous glance. He frowned, switching his attention down to the Toniray left in his glass. He finished it in one final swig, then made an observation as he studied the now empty flute. 

“I can… tell when I’m not wanted. I apologize for wasting your time. I shall take my leave of you,” he stated calmly while setting his vacant vessel down. 

You had to make sure; you could not let him scamper off, not without confirming his identity. “Wait!” you entreated, worried that you sounded a little too excitable. The Weequay’s eyes widened beneath his four-sided frames as he served you a questioning look, though it quickly dissipated, Hondo intrigued by this unexpected outburst. 

“Don’t go,” you half asked, half demanded of the trickster, your hand rising for you to return the Duros to you. “Bartender, another glass of Toniray,” you instructed, your eyes never once leaving the slanted, stormy gaze of the rogue just adjacent. You lightly touched his wrist as it lay limply against the bar top, fingers caressing the leathery skin that peeked from beneath the sleeve of his long coat. 

“Your mother sounds like an interesting woman,” you offered, motioning for him to take up residence at your side. “Join me?”

“Yes, dat she was. Dat. she. was.” His gloomy disposition melted before your very eyes like ice in a glass, though there was a pause; it was as if he was ruminating on some time long since passed. 

“Who am I tu deny you?” he finally quipped with a sweep of his forearm beneath his ribs. The knave bowed in a gesture of goodwill before he rose to take up a nearby stool. “And since you asked so very-very nicely-” he started, flipping his other arm right side up. Your teasing hand was involuntarily repositioned to lay within the center of his palm, not that you minded. “-how can I say no?” 

You endeavored to begin your impromptu interrogation without him noticing, though you were so antsy it was a wonder that you could stay still in your seat. You watched, charmed by his every movement, chewing idly on your bottom lip as the former pirate king appreciatively took his beverage from its resting place. 

He savored another sip, swirling its contents to absorb its aroma like a true connoisseur. You casually wondered how many wines this man had sampled in his lifetime, though he interrupted your train of thought before you delved too deep. “I am impressed, my little beauty, dat you would go out of your way tu spend such a hefty sum on little old me,” he passively admitted. “Es dere a reason for your… generosity?” 

“Are you the Hondo? As in, Hondo Ohnaka of the Ohnaka gang?” you blurted out, unable to control your inquisitive nature and desiring to know right then and there if this was the man that had kept your father awake at night all those years ago - so much for playing coy. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me,” the Weequay beamed, once more that infectious smile overtaking the entirety of his face as his ego was given a healthy boost of self-esteem. “Though I am no longer-” he crinkled his broad nose in mock disgust “-acquainted with de gang who stole my name, yes, I am he. He es me. I am Hondo Ohnaka, en de flesh.”

“Fuck,” you exhaled in a whisper, the expletive pulled from your lips with a sigh that bordered lewd. You made to remove your hand from his, pressing your already crossed legs together as you distracted yourself by biting into the perfectly manicured nail of your index finger. 

“What’s she like?” you randomly thought to ask, but more so to sedate yourself. “The mother of a pirate king – what kind of woman was she?” 

The thief was taken aback. Though not opposed to talking about his dear, sweet mother, Hondo could not help but notice the odd reaction to the affirmation of his given name. His smile became more nuanced, the layer visible to the people in the room one of joviality, while an alternative cognitive process vested itself and presented as the tiniest twist in his upper lip. He stowed what he had learned; for now he would do his best to entertain you, his wandering gaze studying the shape of your body before his stony eyes lingered, focusing for one millisecond – without detection - on your crystal necklace. Eyes on de prize, he thought, though now he believed there to be a chance of gaining more than one type of prize tonight. 

“She was wise beyond her years,” he began in a somber, yet affectionate cadence, “and always offered sound advice. Dhough my childhood ded not consist of fun and games, she taught me all she knew, namely how tu swindle an easy target!” The Weequay dallied to see if he had captured your full attention. You did not try to hide the fact that you were already hanging on his every word.

“No, dere were no hugs or lullabies for me, no creature comforts, nor any luxuries, but what we ded have between us was love – or, at least, I tink so, for a short time later she sold me intu slavery – and I will never forget her en all my days. Without my poor, sweet mother, I would not be de man I am tuday! Tu her I owe my life, even dhough she… often tried tu get rid of me before dis, but I du not love her any less! She did de best she could and dat, little one, es all dat matters en de end.”

What he failed to tell you were the fine details: how both his parents were nearly destitute with many mouths to feed; how his mother had kicked him out on more than one occasion when feeling cross with him; how a religion he did not believe in forced him into a life not of his choosing, and all because his kin had decided he was the easiest to sacrifice thanks to some… plastic, talkingnovelty, some children’s toy! But Hondo was not stupid – despite what some may think – he knew well enough they were in it for the profit to be made. Perhaps it was the greatest lesson of all that his mother had taught him: never trust anyone, not even your own clan. 

Instead of basking in the finality of his solemn words, you jumped - which was borderline disrespectful – to the next topic on your list. You could always apologize for your abundant enthusiasm later if need be, but for some reason you doubted that it would be a problem. 

“What happened to your merry band of pirates?” you asked, brushing your dress shoe against the Weequay’s ankle before you could put an end to it. Hondo responded by taking up his glass with one hand, while the other shamelessly placed itself upon your knee.

He chortled dryly, giving your leg a squeeze that made your pulse quicken and your heart race. “Dat, my ravishing beauty, es a story not worth repeating.”

“Tell me another one instead? A different story?” you chirruped, scooching closer until you were but a hairbreadth away from the handsome scoundrel, hip parallel to hip. You felt daring enough to uncross your legs, purposely rubbing your silky thigh against his trousers through the slit in your dress. You gingerly batted your lashes, knowing full well you were taking on the role of flirt, yet unable to control your most base desire. Currently, it was to simply touch the man in any way you could, or in any way he might allow. 

“Hmm, yes,” he hummed, his bony fingers drifting lazily from the cusp of your knee to the beginnings of your thigh, “I can… tink of someting dat may … pique your interest. A tale of one of my many successful business ventures, perhaps.” 

“Please,” you cooed, leaning closer still for the curve of your shoulder to playfully graze against armored plating; wisps of your hair swept across his sensitive frills, though ironically you did not know anything about alien biology, much less Weequay. You purred out a tiny whisper of satisfaction as his hand trailed upward, the heat between your legs beginning to build upon itself in spite of you just having met this man. Though the smile he gave you was of cartoonish proportions, there was just something about it, not to mention the reputation that preceded him that was nearly causing you to come undone.

With elegant precision, Hondo set down his glass, callous digits curling to rise and stroke the underside of your chin as he gazed resolutely into your eyes. Then, he asked if you had ever heard of a particular arms manufacturer with a particular name. 

The aforementioned organization was the one run by your father. With your best sabacc face you shrugged, though the suspense was killing you. You were about to hear one of your father’s tales from the perspective of the Pirate King himself. You were doing your utmost to contain your zeal, among other things; it was absolutely serendipitous, a moment of happenstance. 

“You see, dis, company, dis, organization - whatever you want tu call et – must have had one of de dumbest persons en charge of deir logistics, because no matter how. many. times. dey sent deir fancy cargo ships off entu space, Ohnaka and his gang, we took what was rightfully ours. By rightfully, of course, I mean de… fact dat dey were en our territory, and once you step foot – or fly ship – entu Hondo’s very backyard, why, you have no right tu question de king en his own domain!”

“Mhm,” you muttered, your foot still fondling his ankle as you leaned over on your elbow against the bar. You observed his voice to be expressive and melodic, each word articulated eloquently despite his decidedly swift pace. He was just getting warmed up, yet you felt you could listen to him talk all night should it please him as much as it pleased you.

Hondo embraced the meat of your thigh with another soft squeeze before ever so slowly inching up once more. You reined in a lustful utterance, compressing your lips to form a line as you refused to give in so easily to your increasingly obscene impulses. 

He continued with his tale. 

“Et just so happens – on dis specific occasion – dat dese weapons were on route tu a Jedi general! I intercepted, not knowing any better, of course, claiming de very expensive, very important missiles for myself.” 

Hondo paused, taking another delicate sip of his Toniray as you blinked languidly, wanting him to continue as soon as possible. “You knew Jedi?” you asked, enthralled.

“Of course I knew Jedi! Hondo knows – well, knew – many, many Jedi en his time. Considering dis man I was speaking of, dis general, tu be my friend, I had a devious plan dat would work out en both our favors…” 

He trailed off; you squealed audibly in disappointment, a low, profoundly  resonate chuckle rising up from the pit of his throat to rumble just beside you. The ruffian had drifted closer, the tip of his flat nose nuzzling the smooth skin along your neck as it came to rest in the divot behind your ear. 

You shuddered reflexively, letting a faint gasp escape you as Hondo’s fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress. “So eager tu hear de rest, aren’t we, little one?”

“Yes,” you practically pleaded. You turned on your stool to fully face him, leaning in so close that you felt your lips might touch. The cunning rascal only grinned again, this time leaving his cup behind to lightly run a thumb crossways your pouty mouth, the rest of his wiry digits tenderly wrapping around the bend of your cheek.

“So eager… for someting else,” he stated, though that did not stop him from recounting more of his adventure. “Dis Jedi - trusting old Hondo as well he should - came tu me, realizing dat dis particular dealer was … unreliable. He knew I was a purveyor of many, many tings, and he assumed – correctly, might I add – dat I had connections tu get dese tings he wanted.”

The Weequay had pulled away from you just marginally, enough to look you in the eye again. You whined a nearly indiscernible sound of protest, your fingers drifting downward to clasp the hand that still relaxed along your thigh. Ever so slowly you began to guide it, Hondo releasing a pent-up breath through his nostrils as his smile took on a hint of mischief. He relaxed his arm and let you take the lead. 

“Dere were many battles,” he remarked boastfully. “Each one was more exciting dan de last. Dey upped deir security forces, tried tu establish an alternative route with little success, and de man himself, de hoity-toity richly rich guy even went so far as tu learn of my private comm frequency so he could scold me en, well, person!”

By this time, he had worked himself up, Hondo gripping your thigh a tad harder in his fervor. You carefully caressed the back of his hand. He seemed to settle, or at least enough to release the pressure behind his grasp, but at the idea of your father being so stark raving mad that he had solicited this wily pirate for a cease and desist forced you to suppress a grin as you presently returned to gnawing on your bottom lip. You spread your legs a little wider as you snuggled up close to the much older man, making sure your knees touched; he hummed a sweet sound of gratitude, coming off his high horse to speak at a more suitable volume.  

“Oh, he was … so, so livid… I thought for sure de guy would have a heart attack right den and dere, but fortunately, or maybe rather unfortunately, he ded not.” Your arousal currently trumped your amusement, even as a visual of your father in one of his disagreeable moods found its way into your thoughts once more. You nodded to inform him you were still being attentive, your free hand undertaking a courageous feat when you laid it upon his chest. 

You did the very thing he had sought to do all evening, yet not wanting to earn your distrust or ire from the outset; you toyed with the tiny charms that dangled about his neck as he craved a chance to touch the Life-crystal that lived around yours. He withheld any comment, even as you languorously traced a path down the cut between his firm pectorals. He gazed at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind his goggles before he dived back in, his voice having lost its ebullient tone all together to be supplanted by something a bit more sultry and seductive. 

“His eyes, dey bulged, as ef I had my boot on de back of his head. He spoke of profits lost and some personal grievances of his.” He tittered wryly, noticing your extremity felt warm to the touch. “My little flower, you’re blushing,” he noted matter of fact before finishing his thought. 

“I said tu him, my good sir, as my beloved mother always told me, du not put all your nuna eggs en one basket – et es bad for business. Ef you drop de basket, you have no eggs, however, should you spread your legs – I mean, eggs - out over many, many baskets… dere es more of a chance you will still have some tu-” his voice dropped emphatically lower, “-eat.”

You caught fire the same time you caught onto his innuendo regardless of how lascivious or ridiculous it had been. You finally took your innocent fraternizing to another level, ushering the Weequay’s lengthy fingers all the way up and beneath your skirt. 

A small breath hitched in Hondo’s chest though nearly undetectable. He tensed minutely before he relaxed. The only change in his outward appearance was the torsion of his cheeky grin into an expression that was on the verge of evincing scuzz and sleaze; it only further impassioned the inferno that was quickly catching ablaze within your loins. 

Once accomplishing your task, both your arms lifted to capture the pirate’s neck in a loose and lighthearted hold. You dangled somewhat awkwardly around his shoulders, your lips daringly planting a soft peppering of kisses across his weathered cheeks and then reverently across his mouth; his bottom lip was so full, so plush. You could not help but spend an extra moment there, gently pressing your teeth into his flesh. 

Hondo sighed in yearning, enjoying the inundation of spontaneous affection, so long it had been for a woman of your caliber, or any woman at all, to pay him any mind. Perhaps it could be blamed on the reality his majesty kept tucked away inside; the reality where he no longer tried to keep close to anyone for fear of what the future might bring later down the road. Too many times had the Weequay allowed his heart to reside unprotected on his sleeve, and whether it be men, women, his rambunctious band of outlaws, or the fading memory of a once great love, he dare not tread that path again, or walk that line so closely to the edge. 

But, he had to remember, you were just a woman. A woman with a valuable and priceless jewel hanging around her neck; one that he wanted, and he still thought – though his thoughts were now heavily clouded – that he could use your rapacious neediness to receive an undue windfall, and just in time, for he had debts to settle.

No one seemed to pay you any mind, the rapscallion Sriluurian taking your more than obvious hint to brush the tips of dusky fingers along the silken fabric of your panties. He exuded a hushed moan, your sex having already left a moist outline from where your arousal spilled over to dampen your undergarments, but so heavenly a thing it was, the pirate had no complaints to offer but a semblance of praise instead.

“My dear, you are-” he whispered delightedly, “-so… unbelievably… wet.” 

You nodded, kissing him again in tiny, unhurried spurts directly on the mouth, your hips rocking gently forward to encourage further exploration beneath your dress. 

He obliged, Hondo gingerly teasing your already soaked cunt by staying above the thin strip of cloth that guarded your aching sex. His touch was so featherlight it simultaneously infuriated and stimulated you to beseech him for something more. 

“Hondo,” you breathlessly announced his name, “come with me,” you implored him, your voice a whine against his lips as you covertly slipped your tongue past ivory and gold to lap at tongue and teeth.

“Mm, darling …” The pirate’s words were temperate, spoken between playful licks and nips.  “Tugether? At de same time? I would love tu,” he insinuated artfully. “I also du not mind waiting my turn.” 

The Weequay’s dexterous digits slid your panties to the side, his last three fingers gathering the fabric as his thumb discreetly aided his index in parting your velvet folds. He exhaled into you, a wanton groan escaping him in muted notes as he saturated himself in your warm slick. 

He took his time, glossing your sensitive clit with the pad of a surprisingly soft thumb as he slid his stool closer to yours. A wave of all-encompassing desire surged through your core as you emitted a prurient gasp; it shortly devolved into a piteous mewl of pleasure, and the scoundrel had barely touched you. The music was thankfully loud enough - and the barkeep too busy serving others – for anyone to discover what was truly happening. From an outsider’s perspective, you may have looked like two lovers kissing, and perhaps it was not far from the truth.

“Oh, God, fuck,” you murmured shyly against scarred and sand-worn lips, though they were still so tantalizing and palatable. A bassy hum commenced, reverberating in such a way it immediately soothed you, despite it transitioning into a throaty chuckle. The scamp had begun to work precise, intricate circles around your swollen pearl.  

“Not a God, sweet one, but de thought es appreciated,” he retorted before bringing the conversation back around. “I… never finished my story,” he informed you in an indolent tone, Hondo having pulled away from your mouth to grace your neck with downy kisses, the Weequay continuing where he left off, even as he nursed off the taste of your skin and surreptitiously drove you toward an orgasm; he hardly exerted any effort in the process.

“You see, it was den de Jedi paid me tu deliver weapons tu dem.” More kisses were sprinkled delicately along your jaw. “I skimmed off de top – a finder’s fee, ef you will - for every freighter I intercepted.” 

The patient swirling beneath your skirt forced you to grip both sides of the pirate’s foppish lapel as you suppressed what would have been a rather crude noise. You had a sudden, powerful need to press your mouth against his, your intense hunger nearly consuming you as he unapologetically persisted in delighting you in public; you were practically strangers, yet he felt so familiar to you. 

“Soon, I had a great deal of firepower at my disposal, and quite a lot of credits tu my name.” The Weequay cradled your cheek as he trailed his wandering lips toward yours again. “I was one of de most feared and infamous pirates in all de galaxy,” he claimed, his voice dropping in volume once more as he reminisced. 

“You still are,” you panted, voice quavering as you were so close to the edge, so close to coming already that Hondo was brought back to the present moment by your words. He positioned his palm beneath your chin, winding his spindly fingers around its point as he forced you to refocus and look him in the eyes.

“So sweet of you tu say.” Your tongue slithered back inside his mouth, Hondo’s a roiling thick, black muscle that danced around yours with such enthusiasm that it drove you to the brink, a lust filled cry quickly cut off as he waded farther down your pharynx. It was an attempt to pacify you, Hondo not wanting to cause a stir and create a cause for gossip – you were a notable woman, after all.

His stratagem worked; you came quietly, pitiable whimpers and caught breaths engulfed by the thief as if sucking your soul from out your body while he deepened the kiss even still. His free hand massaged the back of your neck and shoulders as you descended back down to earth, or rather asteroid, from off your peak. What you did not detect or even feel was his unfastening of the chain that bore the weight of your favorite charm; it had occurred with such mastery that his expert movements had gone unnoticed. At some point the pirate had pocketed the Life-crystal from its place along your throat, and you were none the wiser - not at first.

“I want you,” you brazenly admitted once some vestige of sanity returned to you. “I need you, Hondo Ohnaka, my Lord, my Liege, my Pirate King,” you crooned airily between more furtive, wistful kisses. “Please,” you implored, “don’t make me beg,” you urged, the soft press of your lips breaking away to gather just below his ear.  

Perhaps this time the man felt a little out of sorts himself, maybe, just maybe, not expecting your affection for him to run so deep so quickly. Of course, that was not to say that this sort of thing had not happened many, many times before! This was not Hondo Ohnaka’s first. jump. into. hyperspace - not to detract from the absolute satisfaction he felt wholly within – but he never once grew tired of having an attractive sentient pine for more of his winsome company. 

“Ah, you are a go-getter. I admire dat,” he conceded, burying himself in the crook of your neck as he returned the gesture, interspersing more physical shows of adoration in the form of pecks across your collarbone. “And… just what would you do with me?” he asked, not bothering to disengage from the task at hand.

“Treat you as the king you are,” you said without missing a beat. “Let me show you,” you offered as you pushed off your stool, the Weequay’s hand being returned to him as it slipped out from beneath your skirt. You slid forward, interlocking your fingers amongst his, drawing that dexterous appendage toward your face before your tongue snaked out. You licked the remnants of your own slick off the devil’s ribbed digits as you moaned a salacious little sound; it took Hondo’s very breath away. 

The charmer found that he himself was entranced, beguiled by your display, losing himself in the sensation of your mouth around his finger. In fact, he was semi-speechless, which seldom happened, if at all, angled, achromatic eyes watching intently until you finally had the decency to free him from your spell. 

“Et es… hard tu reject such a… compelling argument,” Hondo tremulously muttered, his oblique hues never once leaving you as you trailed your tongue across your upper lip and top row of teeth. You cast a sultry glance, retaking the scoundrel’s hand as you began to pull, convincing the man to get up from off his rear and follow you. 

“Are you sure you’ve thought dis through?” he asked more out of curiosity, pondering the cognitive operation that led you to make such a rash decision. It definitely wasn’t because he was worried, knowing you may soon realize your beloved Life-crystal had suddenly gone missing in his notoriously thieving presence. 

One might say that question was meant more for himself. While more often than not flying by the seat of his trousers, on occasion the madman had a dastardly plan. In this case, he had premeditated only as far as this, not expecting or accounting for your very flattering and pleasantly surprising gusto toward his person.

This wasn’t to say he could blame you – Hondo was well aware of his physical attractiveness and that his reputation was known far and wide for many reasons - though it was a bolster to his confidence, nonetheless. He found the answer to his query was a nonverbal one as you had made it a point to steer him in the direction of the cantina doors, the pirate playing along for he was intrigued, on top of other things.

“No, but where’s the fun in that?” you replied on your way to the exit, stealthily relaying an order by the single press of a particular button on your wrist comm -- it summoned the immediate attention of your driver, signaling that you were ready to leave this place and expected your hovercar to be waiting at your leisure. Otherwise, you maneuvered between tables, chairs, and other bar goers, all the while actively encouraging your amused captive to stay close by your side. He indulged you, the dark chortle that impishly resounded behind closed lips threatening to loosen your already slack grip on what little composure you had left.

“Ah, a woman after my own heart,” he professed in response to your gratifying answer. “I find dat a bit of spontaneity en life es good for de sou-”

Hondo did not have time to finish; you had both made your way past the double doors. Urgently, you pulled him toward you, pressing a firm kiss upon his mouth.  His words died in his throat, dissolving into nothing more than a docile moan, his arms slowly rising so that both his hands might find their way to rest gingerly on either side of your pretty face. The tenderness of this singular act made your heart pump faster; you slowly drove him backward the two paces it took to reach one of the many panes of transparisteel that lined the building, the viewports of this bar extending beyond the height of the average man. 

He took it all in stride, allowing you to have your way; what would be the reason not to? He pondered this as his decorated fingers skirted the curve of your jaw to apply themselves just behind your delicate little ears, drawing your exquisite visage closer as he finally made contact with the window just behind thanks to your forthright escort. 

“Mn, my lovely little bird,” he cooed against your lips, “you make dis old Weequay feel wanted,” he confessed, perhaps permitting himself to be too vulnerable. It was no secret, or at least no secret to him, that he often craved the fellowship of some comely creature, or anyone at all. His was now a lonely life, traversing the galaxy in whatever way might suit his fancy, whimsy being the sole directive that propelled him from place to place.

Of course, that is exactly the opposite of what he told himself. Yes, he had lost his crew, his men, his fortress, his credits, his women, and even his Kowakian monkey-lizards! But!— he did not need them, or so he told himself. Hondo was more than the sum of all these things put together! He was a man who had accomplished so much already! And he was still… relatively young, there was still time, and perhaps he could right his reputation – for all the good it did or did not do him – to not be seen as a pirate, but a legitimate business owner with a new place carved out for him among the history books.

Still, at that moment, it did not quell his ache for this to somehow not be too good to be true as you pulled away, looking the Weequay in his uniquely askance eyes. 

It was there with Hondo pressed against the wall of glass that you saw your own reflection from the corner of your vision. Pleased that you did not appear too disheveled after the sordid affair inside, you did a brief double take as you realized your favorite piece of jewelry had gone missing. You paused cursorily before gazing back at him, a playful smile exhibited despite just learning that you had been robbed. 

“That’s because you are,” you returned with another kiss, quickly taking up his hand to usher him toward the appearance of an airspeeder that had slid to a halt at the end of the walkway. Your chauffeur had already opened the automated door, revealing luxurious, cushy seats on either side and a tinted pane of transparisteel that would give you privacy, though you fairly trusted the man who would fly you to your destination. Still, you had plans he was not privy to. 

“This way,” you guided him, pulling Hondo along as you crawled in first. The scoundrel followed, taking the seat opposite yours as the door slid closed, pewter irises absorbing their surroundings as your guest inspected your opulent ride. 

“Dis es quite de vehicle,” he commented, perhaps feigning being impressed more than truly affected by its extravagant size and ostentatious interior. “Et es yours?” he questioned you curiously, though sure that he already knew the answer. 

You presently ignored him as you actuated the comm panel built into a nearby console, your voice calling out to your duteous wheelman as you gazed unwaveringly into Hondo’s eyes. “Home,” you instructed him, continuing to stare unapologetically with a hungry look as the thief leaned back and got comfortable, a saucy smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

“You are … taking me home tu mother, yes?” he teased, knowing full well he was not the “take home to mother” sort, however, that was more or less the case.

The airspeeder began to move, joining the faint traffic that existed on this space rock, however fashioned to look as if its surface were hospitable to life. Synthetic trees whizzed by, accompanied by an assortment of lights as you zipped past The Esplanade. It was a pedestrian thoroughfare known for its fine shopping and dining, though you did not let that distract you as you persisted in admiring your catch. This time, your study of the Weequay was once more complemented by a nibble to your bottom lip. 

“You are clearly awestruck by my illustrious presence. Of course, dis es tu be expected. I completely understand. Aldhough, considering you were not shy en de cantina, I thought perh-”

You whisked forward, nimbly placing your knees on either side of his muscular thighs as you came in to straddle his lap. You planted yourself firmly astride him, both arms reaching up for your explorative fingers to wind their way between his frills as you moved in to kiss him once again; your need for the pirate was voracious and quite possibly unquenchable, yet so sudden was its onset. 

Hondo had laughed as you approached so deliberately, though the sound of his amusement was cut short as your tongue snuck its way inside his already opened maw just for the sake of another taste. The rogue’s gaiety at once quieted, only to be replaced by a receptive moan as he settled in with you against the posh seating of your transport. 

“Dat es de spot…” His comment was muffled by your kiss, Hondo reveling in the gentle caress of your human fingers as they danced between the sharp barbs along his jowls.

You abruptly halted your barrage. “I know you pilfered my necklace,”  you whispered against his supple lips without further elaboration. 

He froze, as if caught in a hovercar’s high beams, the shoulders and neck of the Weequay stiffening as your hands found their way down, down, until your fingers casually wrapped themselves around his throat. Your thumbs worked a pattern against his tough and scaly skin, though perhaps the charming devil may have thought you were planning to choke him right then and there. 

He laughed again, this time nervously, his head marginally tipping back as his gray eyes regarded you behind his goggles. He kept a blaster on his person, after all, though it would be a shame to have to use it on such a seemingly defenseless woman. Ah, but he knew better than to fall for that! Yet, he took his chances. Danger was as alluring as it was … dangerous.  

“I was… hoping you would not notice,” Hondo admitted with a kind of passive defeat, his musical voice having lowered an octave and holding within it a modicum of what you thought might be shame, or guilt.

“It’s an honor,” you teased, humming against his mouth; it was contorted in his blatant bewilderment as you slyly swept your tongue across his own, so warm and sweet. You could not help it; you gently gyrated your hips as you pressed your clothed sex against his loins, the heat in your core building as you sighed out a contented, airy breath.

“I…” he began longingly, Hondo transported back to salacious thoughts. Your provocative position across his lower half was not helping matters, as he was caught between being somewhat flabbergasted and highly aroused. 

“I don’t care,” you assured him softly, your hands sliding down the pirate’s throat to brush past the armored plating of his crimson coat. Your fingertips trailed along the intricate filigree-like pattern woven into its fine threads, swirling to match the shapes, until you arrived at his gaudy belt buckle. The texture of its design was cool against your skin. 

“Dat es … wonderful news …” he barely managed as the width of your splayed palm serried itself between you. You carefully groped the bulge that had begun to form beneath his trousers, nearly moaning outright at the feeling of it twitching in response to your measured touch. 

Hondo himself took a moment to recoup, releasing a pent-up breath. He was not surprised you had caught on, he had only hoped it would have been after he had made a hasty getaway. Of course, agreeing to accompany you elsewhere was his first mistake.

Et's dese little details dat will get you entu trouble every time, he mused. 

“You mean tu say… dat I may keep et?” he asked, perplexed. Your lips had already found their next target; they planted themselves one time after another across each raised line that was etched into his neck. He crooned out a little noise - you had never touched a Weequay before this night, and you were so very curious as your fingers tenderly kneaded the now fully swollen protrusion flexing against your palm.

“Yes,” you murmured, working your way up and over beyond his distinctive frills to administer another round of sensual kisses to the striated flesh of his angular cheek. From there beyond, you traveled to meet his lips once more, skirting the surface of his bottom rung with your teeth as you silently begged for a quick admittance. 

The once great pirate king chuckled lazily as his weight slightly shifted under your own, Hondo’s hips rolling faintly beneath your grasp as he admired the sensation of your tepid hand cradling his cock. Still, it would be neglectful if he did not admit he was very, very, skeptical, the scoundrel hoping to remain mindful of the situation at the same time you had decided to deliciously squeeze his dick – it made everything ten times harder and in more ways than one.

“Ut-ut-ut,” he intoned quietly, feeling a pleasurable ache flooding his senses as your index finger had found its way to the slit at the head of his cock. “Wait-,” he began, “-but et es worth at least two mill-”

“Five million credits,” you cut him off, speaking directly into his mouth before your eager tongue worked its way past gold capped teeth to twirl around his own.

He attempted to continue to talk, even as you kissed him. “Dis es not some sort of trick? You are not pulling one over on old Hondo? I should have known better dan tu trust de intel I received!” he practically shouted, though you kept on with your mission as you replied.

“Hm? Mn-mn,” you responded, questioning exactly what he meant as you shook your head in the negative to indicate you were being honest about your intentions, unlike the pirate whose lap you were currently roosted in. 

“What intel?” you whispered along his still flapping lips, your occupied hand painstakingly aligning his erection along the outside of your already damp panties. You finally let go only to begin undulating your hips while you simultaneously massaged his cock through the seam of his pants.

Hondo gave a lecherous groan, such was the sensation of you rubbing so shamelessly across his hardened member, even if only atop your clothes. It was becoming difficult for him to think clearly, and to form words, his own hands finally coming to rest gently along either side of your waist as he endeavored to keep you still. 

“Dat…dat you are… so very, very rich, and so very, very bored.” He took a slow, deep inhale, attempting to contain his lust.  “Dhough now, I wonder ef dis was all a ploy tu incriminate me. Perhaps you plan tu turn me en? Du you… work alone? Where are we really going, little minx?”

You gently pulled away, muttering placidly into his intriguing, pointed ear. “I was bored-” you corrected him, “-and I am very, very rich,” you finished with a mischievous smile, slightly intensifying the rhythm of your hips. 

In the midst of confessing your financial status and attesting to your continual ennui, your arms rose for you to remove the backs to both your earrings; they were fashioned from Krayt Dragon pearl and as a pair worth a hundred thousand credits each. You collected them in one hand as your other collected his, placing them directly in the center of his open palm. 

“Take these, too,” you offered as the intense heat in your belly further expanded, the friction from the outline of his hard-on luring a tiny whimper to the surface as you leaned back in, both arms now encircling the Weequay’s neck and head as you pushed him forward, giving him full access to your breasts.

Hondo found himself being smothered by a pair of luscious, humanoid tits; he favored them - as seemed liked the natural thing to do; his species was also endowed with such a gift – he was very familiar. Weequay, though considered to be reptilian thanks to their evolutionary adaptations - including blaster-resistant scales - were warmblooded. The women were proof of that. And, just like other warm-bloods, you had those things that were so soft, pliable, and hypnotizing. 

The pirate did not complain as his oxygen supply was momentarily cut off, though he gave a muffled, somewhat exaggerated chortle as he pocketed the earrings, letting his guard down just a little more as he used both hands now free to compress those doughy objects against either side of his cheeks and not his frills – stabbing you with the spiky protrusions that grew out of his face seemed like it would ruin the mood, to put it mildly.  

“Oh, you are a naughty, naughty thing, ah?” His question was suppressed by the fleshy mounds of your chest, the man having begun to carefully work them between his adroit digits as you felt a gentle nip that made you chirp. This only triggered the pirate to titter throatily, the flat of his broad tongue licking a stripe between the cleft of your cleavage.

“I love an enterprising woman who knows exactly what she wants-” he complimented, “-and how tu get et.” 

Following this bout of praise, Hondo lifted one breast from the confines of your dress to be revealed, the scoundrel’s unexpectedly well-kempt-for-a-pirate’s teeth placing your sensitive nipple between them. He nibbled ever-so-slightly before intaking it to suck, the rhythm of his tongue causing you to gasp as you continued to grind against the firm outline so perfectly arranged - it was pushing you toward your second orgasm of the evening - you had no shame. 

You continued to clutch at the back of his head as you rocked slowly across his lap, your breath quickening as he skillfully sought out his reward; the little noises you made were more than enough to stoke the fire in his heart, the Weequay’s suckling of your teat becoming more nuanced and refined with every small reaction your body gave.

“You’re so good at that; don’t stop,” you murmured readily, the scoundrel obliging as he kept his pace. 

Within moments, you had edged your way to the cusp of pleasure once more. This time, Hondo allowed you to vocalize as you cooed for him such pleasing sounds, riding the wave to its end before you perceptibly relaxed. 

The pirate unlocked his jaws, adjusting your rack for you as he refitted them where they belonged. He made a flippant comment to boot, though meaning no ill-will; he was just surprised, and maybe a tiny bit proud of himself.  “Well, dat was easy.”

You grinned as you pulled away, not having time to respond as your journey came to its end. Now properly tousled, and more aroused than ever, you crawled off his person as the door began to open to reveal the path that would lead you to your home. 

“We’re not finished,” you assured him, hopping up from your seat and exiting the vehicle. Hondo hesitated, as his erection had yet to subside, though he peered out to admire the lush, artificial foliage, the sprightly water fountain, and the ornate stairwell he would have to climb in order to reach a set of decorative double doors. It was more extravagant than his old fortress back on Florrum, akin to a palace, or a compound – not something as rinky-dink as a mere mansion!

“Well, well, well, es dis de Fountain Palace of Hapes? De … Castle of Per'Agthra, perhaps?” the pirate joked, finally exiting the hovercar so that your driver could attend to its proper storage. Your family had many modes of transport to their name, this airspeeder only one of them, not to mention the SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000 parked at this planetoid’s northern pole; it could be ready to go at a moment’s notice.

“This is where I live,” you stated plainly, using all of your self-control to keep your mitts off him as two attendants came forward to offer their assistance. None was needed, so you began to shoo them away with a dismissive wave, the other hand reaching out to clasp Hondo’s bony fingers as you guided him onward and up into your family’s ridiculously prodigal home. 

“Time for a tour,” you asserted lasciviously, your voice having dropped a note lower as you dragged him beyond the doors splayed open for you by a man in a crisply ironed suit. They only needed a small push before the mechanics took over, yet the theatrics and the aesthetics of an old-fashioned door had been your mother’s idea.

A woman waited for you once they had parted, though she was not your matriarch. She was the caretaker of your vast property – a housekeeper of sorts - an Arthurian with white hair who wore gloves upon her hands as was her species’ custom; she would only make eye contact with you whilst speaking as to her any other time was considered rude.

“You did not inform me we would have a guest,” she remarked, her gaze diverting to silently judge the manner of dress of the person at your side. She then turned back to you, most likely noting your rumpled appearance by the slight scrunching of her nose. “I was not prepared. My apologies.”

“Greetings, Madam,” Hondo began, moving to take a bow as he of course assumed that everyone would be interested in knowing more about him. In your heart, you knew he was not wrong, but it would not serve you in the here and now. 

“I am-”  

“-This is… Orb Orenk,” you interjected. The look the man gave you indicated he was affronted, just as you had feared.

“I was asked by father to retrieve him from Club Corusca. He is a new business associate of his,” you lied, hoping that she might buy it.

This woman, who was so loyal to your father that she knew his schedule like the back of her hand, gave the perfectly polished floor a peculiar expression, finally raising her eyes to look into your own once more. “Your father, last I checked, has been delayed. He will not arrive for some two rotations,” she finalized.

“Oh, well, then I suppose I shall have to entertain him,” you shrugged, taking up the Weequay’s hand again as you began to escort him past the massive foyer and into a large hall. You could feel the Arthurian staring at the back of your head as you made your way, just happy that she had kept her peace for now, even if she did not believe you one iota. 

This was your home, you rationalized, though she was like its eyes and ears. At least you felt safe in the fact your father would not return for a few days’ time. The only thing that had you worried was the possibility of her recognizing your guest of honor, though so far so good, and you were at this point bound to take your chances.

Presently, however, Hondo was barely hiding his indignation as you tugged him along behind you, though somewhat distracted by all the attractive, valuable objects that were on display, as your abode was fashioned with all sorts of expensive things. 

“I daresay I am wounded. Dat was uncalled-for,” he lightly scolded, “are you now embarrassed of me?” he questioned, pondering on your reasoning for giving your housekeeper a false name when you had embraced him back at the cantina for who he was.

In reality, Hondo knew what it was like to have a need to hide your identity very, very well! Still, it did not hurt any less, for his reputation was the one thing he still had left to him.

Not that it was a good reputation. He had been labeled a brigand, a rogue, and an all-around scoundrel! This was of course in addition to a smuggler, a conman, and a pirate! 

As if this were all negative! A. very. unfair. assumption! Hondo Ohnaka had honor! And he was many, many things all at once, some of them more unsavory than others, and some, well, just came with the territory.

But he was also a lover, a poet, and a strategist! For now, he was a pouter, jutting out his bottom lip as he was currently offended. Once you had him far enough away, you paused, turning to face him.

Oh, that look. You heart sank as he stared at you behind timeworn transparisteel. You leaned in and took the base of his jaw in your hand, your fingers bypassing and weaving between his distinguished frills as you caressed the Weequay’s cheek with a back and forth stroking of your thumb. 

“No,” you breathed out, overcome once more with lust as you pressed your lips to his. You trailed tender kisses along his mouth and to either corner before imparting your true feelings. “I don’t trust her, that's all.”

“And yet… you trust me.” Hondo’s expression transformed into a wide, shit-eating grin as he turned his head to kiss the center of your palm. He took up your hand, then planted another across the back of it. 

“How very interesting,” he stated as his confidence returned.

To be fair, his confidence had not strayed very far, and Hondo was always one to bounce back quickly, no matter how awful the circumstances. Besides, this had been a rather small slight to his ego in comparison to anything else he could recall.

Still, he could not help but wonder about you, his grin broadening as you stepped closer, the devil playing submissive as you backed him in against the nearest wall.

“I am… sensing a pattern,” he said smugly, allowing you to dot the underside of his throat with a sprinkling of adoration; you slowly inched your way up and over his chin, offering your tongue once more. 

The pirate accepted, prompting you to moan softly against his warm and wiry lips. Your fingers grappled with his coat as he took to groping your right breast. His other hand drew you in by the small of your back, his brand of strength gentle, yet so very compelling; it caused you to practically melt against his robust frame. 

You wished this moment would never end, and perhaps it might have gone on for quite some time, had two giggling maids not rushed past you in the corridor. They attempted to shield their eyes the best they could to give you some semblance of privacy, though their incessant whispering accompanied them until they vanished around the corner.

You abruptly tore away, Hondo immediately adjusting his ensemble to remain at his most presentable. He swiped a thumb across where a tingling sensation lingered, then gave you another award-winning smile. “Et es… so hard tu find good help dese days, yes?”

“Hurry,” you persuaded him once more, towing him along in the direction you were desiring to go.

The pirate conceded, though he would not do so without giving you an earful of sound advice. “Ap-ap, my dear. As my sweet mum always used tu say, ‘rushing es a form of violence. Be quick, but du not hurry.’ Life es… so short, after all. At least, dat es what I keep hearing.”

“And I’m impatient,” you replied, having guided him to another wing of your absurdly large home only to pull him into a turbolift that would usher you to the third floor of your abode.

In the space of time it took for you to hear the chime, you kissed him three more times, your hands gliding over his stalwart form. From his taut abdominal muscles to the sharpness of his hips and down the meat of his thighs, you only paused to cup his groin; his cock was once more enlivened by a single touch of your playful fingers. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just a little eager?” you asked in a mellow, teasing tone of voice.

The scoundrel laughed huskily; a sound you could become addicted to, so melodious and dry, its intriguing vibrations once more causing shivers to trickle down the length of your spine. Everything about this man, despite his connection to your father, demanded that you make love to him until you passed out from exhaustion. 

And that was exactly what you planned to do. But first, business.

“You may be… ontu someting, yes?”

On that note, the lift opened to reveal another hall. You would have kissed him again, but you would wait to do so behind closed doors – there was a particular set that had long ago crossed your mind – and for more than one reason. While it made sense to take him directly to your bedroom, you had a few pit stops you wanted to make along the way.

Finally, you made one such stop, enticing the Weequay into your father’s favorite room of the house: his study and personal library.

Not sure that you had gone unnoticed upon entry, for the moment you did not care, Hondo gazing around the room and up toward the vaulted ceiling where there was a skylight that gave a clear view of the stars. 

Although not obvious from first glance, Oseon’s business and residential sectors were encased in a kind of bubble. The gravity, air, and flora of this planet were all of an artificial variety. Still, it was an impressive thing to be able to look straight up into an expanse of black with only the dim twinkling of faraway stellar objects to break up the monotony.

“Your family certainly spares no expense,” Hondo remarked, glancing toward the direction you had wandered off in. At this time, you were removing a most splendid work of art from off the wall, unveiling to Hondo and to yourself a safe deposit box built right into its surface. You had seen your father open it many times and had memorized the code, knowing that sealed inside were some of his most valuable and prized possessions. 

The contents were at once revealed; held within was an assortment of rubies and gemstones, diamonds, pearls, and more Life-crystal fragments, not to mention credits of the highest denomination, gold and silver – it was a veritable treasure chest! These items you gathered in handfuls, carrying them back to where Hondo stood curiously watching before you shoved both money and jewels straight into his pockets.

Hondo was dumbstruck, and maybe a tiny bit concerned, not used to someone so willingly parting with their wealth and for seemingly no good reason. He chuckled anxiously, then cleared his throat, addressing you as you walked back to get another round.

“What es de meaning of dis? Not dat I am… complaining, by any means,” he added as he dipped his fingers down into his coat. He withdrew a fistful of the riches you had so unceremoniously stuffed there without a word of explanation, admiring them, the way they sparkled; the heft of their weight in his hands; the price he knew he could get for them from the right buyer, though he did not let himself get carried away with his grandiose daydreams -– not yet. Hondo was sure he needed to keep his wits about him. This was all so very peculiar. 

“I’m paying you for your services,” you stated as you returned to shove more jewelry and credits into his boundless pockets, both in front and within the lining of his coat. He balked at that, placing a hand against his chest as the other still held a wad of pretty stones, giving you the most offended look that he could muster.

“Hondo es not a common whore! He cannot be bought with-” He paused, thinking over what he was about to say. It seemed he thought better of it as you began to smatter his throat with zealous kisses. 

“OK, yes, maybe I can, but dis es highly irregular. Not dat I would put a price on my head, dhough many, many others have already done dat.” He pondered on the past for a moment, remembering a singular wanted poster he had seen in passing with his face on it. It had read he was only worth seven thousand credits! Seven! That had been absolutely uncalled-for! Hondo was worth far, far more than that! 

Not to mention, the image of Cad Bane right next to his handsome mug read one million, which the pirate had found ridiculously outrageous! If anything, they were on par and deserved to be wanted - equally! 

You had ignored his ramblings as you began to work your way down his neck to the split of his tunic, ever so softly pressing your lips against his unique skin. Here you placed more kisses, one after the other, as he continued to talk. However, you did not mind, as his voice alone could make your heart flutter, so musical were the notes that rose up from his larynx. 

“But, as my mother always told me, son, du not look a gift fathier en de mouth,” he concluded, looking down into your eyes as if he had just realized you were still in the room. 

Then, Hondo noticed you were slowly getting farther and farther away as you sank toward the floor, the Weequay’s face tilting at an angle as he studied you from beneath his distressed goggles. The villainous grin he gave you only quickened your haste, your fingers diligently working at the same time your knees found carpet, unhooking his trousers to reveal the man had gone commando.

You involuntarily gasped at the sight, having felt it through the thin fabric of his pants, but not understanding the full potential of his anatomy until you saw it for yourself. 

The little sound you made had triggered the pirate; his grin only intensified. “Du not be frightened, little bird,-” he quipped, “-et does not bite.”

You hesitated a moment longer; it was stout, thick, and slightly above average, though it was ribbed in alternating patterns with the deepest grooves lining its base. You hummed a little sound of adulation before your tongue simply could not help itself; you clasped him by the hips with both hands as you prompted him forward. Using his assurance as an invitation, you painstakingly licked a stripe from the bottom of his shaft all the way to the head of his robust cock. 

The pirate shuddered, exhaling a haggard, broken breath of air. “Returning tu our previous topic of conversation, as far as mouths go-”

He had not finished his sentence before you encircled the tip of the Weequay’s foreign dick with your lips, lapping up the bit of pre-cum that had leaked from the slit at its head. Your mouth stayed cinched tightly around him as you ingested nearly the whole of his phallus, your cheeks hollowing out as you worked your way back up with a very deliberate, powerful suction.  

“Yours es-” He surrendered then, leaning back against your father’s ornate desk on the palm of his free hand, having hurriedly pushed his chair out of the way in the process. For someone who talked of not being in a rush, his haphazard movements had caused you to smirk, even with your mouth full. 

“Mmm,” you moaned, relishing the taste of him as well as the way his eyelids had begun to close as a most pleased expression had overtaken his handsome visage. You worked in a syncopated rhythm with your tongue, keeping him on his toes, but the up-down motion continued at a steady pace as you fluidly glided over each rib and ridge.

“-es quite…” It seemed as if he were still trying to carry on a conversation, one hand occupied by priceless loot while the other had decided to almost lovingly stroke your hair. This only encouraged you, the pucker of your mouth deepening as you slathered his dick with your spit. The Weequay finally dropped the jewels back into his pocket, gazing down at you once more as you unabashedly stared into slanted, lustrous grays. 

“Spectacular,” he finished, his other hand joining the first as he placed both on the back of your head with something tantamount to reverence. However you might describe it, it was gentle; he was not forcing you to go faster or deeper, his thumbs lightly caressing the base of your skull as he relaxed even more. 

It was also apparent he liked to watch, even as his eyelids continued to droop, Hondo finding himself lost in the sensation of your warm, inviting mouth working his cock as if he were a tasty treat that you could eat - one enjoyed in the heat of the summer on some sticky planet, or while on vacation in the tropics of Glee Anselm.

Now fully seated on the edge of your father’s work area, a particular thought sent a spark of joy into your heart - if only he knew whose cock you were sucking in his study. The look on his face would be absolutely priceless, worth more than all those jewels you had lined the pirate’s pockets with. 

Of course, should he really find out, his reaction would be extremely unfavorable. It was obvious this was happening entirely on purpose; you would not be able to come up with an excuse strong enough to save your life. You doubted your father would actually kill you, even in the throes of an anger so volatile he might tear the scoundrel limb from limb. Being his own flesh and blood had its benefits, but you would never allow any harm to come to this man, not while you were still alive.

This thought process increased your excitability, taking the time to  sit up slightly on your knees so as to get a better vantage. You paused in your veneration to allow his cock to slide out of your mouth; you kissed it tenderly before your tongue flicked teasingly across its bulbous tip, taking the time to situate yourself into a more comfortable position. 

The pirate had opened one eye, his breath slow and steady before it picked up again at the flutter of your tongue against the sensitive head of his cock. Hondo himself shivered, though his movements were exaggerated, the Weequay’s hand relocating itself suddenly as it came back around to snatch you by the chin. 

You stifled a gasp, though his gaze was so sharp and intense that you reflexively whimpered, his voice low and licentious as he stared penetratingly into your eyes. 

“Tell old Hondo what game you are playing, child.”  He had murmured his demand against your lips, the pirate having hunched over near to your level. You were unable to form coherent speech, so he pressed his mouth against yours that had been left immobile. It was an act of fiery passion that before this moment you felt nothing could quite match, the gruffness of his tone having caught you off guard. It had somewhat frightened you, to tell the truth, but the feeling was quickly offset by your bolstered arousal, as if you could possibly become any more turned on. 

Though he was considerably your senior, you were not a youngling, yet you took no offense, even as he was trying to demean you in some way. It was likely he still did not trust you, and you had not bothered to explain yourself or your bizarre gifts - you really could not blame him.

You forewent any elucidation and instead gathered up his girth in your hand as your fingers cinched carefully around it. You gave it a long lick in one fell swoop before intaking it back into the whole of your mouth and toward the far end of your throat. Then, you gently gathered his testes in the curve of your other hand, a warm palm massaging them with calculated enthusiasm.

Your head bobbed to-and-fro, alternating once more between up and down as you whined against Hondo’s cock, cognizant of the fact you may never get another chance at this. An almost imperceptible tremble vibrated through the Weequay’s core, it being exhibited by way of a quiver in his knees, the pirate digging his nails into your hair as those fingers still locked around your chin stayed stationary, though his thumb had begun to rub a pattern along your jawline.

“I… believe you tu be incorrect,” he stated arbitrarily, though it spurred your curiosity. “You are de one… who es…  servicing me,” he informed you between ragged breaths, Hondo feeling that he was near to peaking under your expert control.

“Mn, little bird, sing for me,” he pleaded in a voice softer and more melodic than before. “Et begs de question,” he whispered, that same thumb continuing to stroke your cheek as he rocked his hips forward in time with your head’s momentum. “Tell Hondo what he has done tu deserve all dis.”

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, nuzzling into the rogue’s affections as you made lewd slurping sounds, engorging yourself on the blissful experience of making Hondo Ohnaka squirm and fidget amidst your charms. You could tell he was close; you wondered what the cum of a Weequay tasted like, but you would not find out, as at that moment the door to your father’s study slid open to reveal one of your personal attendants, a young woman who stood with her mouth gaping open as she took in the scandalous scene.

Yet, she was one whom you had bonded with, being so bored cooped up in this house. She was about your age, and you trusted her well enough, having often confided in her your secrets and relaying to her the latest gossip from about town. 

Still, it caused you to halt, jerking your head back for Hondo’s erection to vacate your throat. You wiped a drizzle of spit off on the back of your hand as you stared at her, wide-eyed. 

She stared wide-eyed back as Hondo blinked indolently, coming out of a stupor that had temporarily disarmed him, so sluggish and slow was he to recover from this impromptu visit that for a moment his genitalia remained outside his trousers before you hastily thought to aid him in putting it away.

You stood as Hondo finished the job, not having said a word for once, the woman creeping forward one or two steps inside. The door closed behind her; she seemed disturbed, but also worried, finally speaking to you after she had overcome her visible shock. 

“Miss! The Madam’s on the way! She’s bringing Jaina with her, and those little sandwiches!” she stated in a rush, her eyes darting to Hondo as he had finally risen to his full height, the Weequay looking out of sorts as he brushed off each sleeve of his coat in turn before joining you at your side.

“Thank you, Mara! Comm me should you see anything else!” you said, dashing behind you as the girl took a small curtsy and left just as quickly as she had arrived. Shouting at the handsome scoundrel who looked somewhat confused, yet also intrigued by the idea of sandwiches, you demanded he play along: “Quick! Pretend to look at books!”

“Pardon?” Hondo asked, nonplussed, the baffled expression intensifying as he turned to watch you dart back toward the open safe nestled in the wall.

“Pretend to look at books!” you repeated, referencing your father’s library that lined the walls with expensive and rare items printed on traditional paper.

“I would prefer tu try one of dese sandwiches dat was mentioned, or-” he paused for effect, strolling toward a bookcase regardless as he removed a volume from off the shelf. One wiry finger traced a path down its gilded spine. “-I could always go for something a little more… gourmet.” 

He smiled again, having recovered rather quickly, his mood once more bright and cheerful even though he had been denied a finish to what you had started. “Aldhough, finger food also has ets place.” 

You gave him a quick look, knowing exactly what he was referring to, though you were too enwrapped in your current task to be amused. Closing the safe deposit box, you reset the lock, quickly collecting the painting from where it lay against the wall to replace at just the proper angle. You stepped back to admire your work for a split second before scurrying across the room to join the rascal, taking up residence by his side. 

Hondo had just cracked the volume open, doing as you had instructed, feigning interest in what was written on its pages. You quickly made some shit up in your head just as the door opened, speaking to the pirate as if you had long been settled into conversation.

“You are correct, this particular book does date back to the time of the Old Republic,” you began as the white-haired Arthurian stepped into the room along with her accomplice, a woman of lesser status who carried with her a plate full of those tiny sandwiches Mara had decided to warn you about. “As you can see, they still practiced top edge gilt, which the edges of the pages are finished in real gold along the top of the text block-”

You cut yourself off, pretending to be surprised, as Hondo himself seemed genuinely to be so. There was more to you than met the eye, your expertise on such an obscure detail catching his attention as you rounded on the woman by the name of Hilre who was once again sticking her nose in your business where you felt it did not belong.

“Madam Hilre,” you said curtly, removing the book from Hondo’s hands as you closed it and returned it to its proper place. Hondo easily allowed this, taking the opportunity to utilize his infamous charisma. 

“Ah, we meet again, my good woman. And what es dis you have brought us?” He traipsed forward, plucking one of the perfectly cut sandwiches from off the plate held by Jaina, at once taking a bite and savoring its flavor. Hondo was legitimately hungry, after all. He had not had a scrap to eat since arriving at this rocky little asteroid. 

“Shawda Clubb!” he exclaimed as you came forward, looking directly at the Arthurian who, as was her custom, had averted her eyes.  “Et es truly delightful. De best I have ever tasted,” he emphasized, though you were unsure if he was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Hilre, but we do not require your services,” you said tersely, walking past her and around, “Mr. Orenk, allow me to show you the garden,” you lied, knowing very well what your next destination would be. 

“Certainly,” Hondo acquiesced, though he held out both hands to Jaina who still carried the full tray within hers. “May I?”

To your surprise he took the entire plate, leaving your servant dumbfounded as she stood there with an odd expression, dropping her hands down to her sides. She did not comment, knowing it was not her place, but looked to Madam Hilre for guidance, which she was quick to turn and watch as you made to take your leave.

“Shall I prepare a place for Mr. Orenk for the evening? If he is waiting on your father, and since he is delayed, he is to spend the night, yes?” she asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Hondo paused mid-bite and looked at you. He shrugged his shoulders minutely before fitting the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes, of course,” you agreed before hurrying out and back into the corridor with the Weequay thankfully in tow. 

“Dese are quite delicious, you should try dem,” he said with a mouthful of food as you made your way back toward the turbolift at the end of the hall. 

“Tu de garden, den?” he asked, licking the edges of two fingers to clean the taste of the Manpha-fowl and nuna bacon off their tips. This tiny set of movements enthralled you, so set on the image of his tongue and what it might feel like down below that you erratically searched out the button to the second floor without so much as a glance in the direction of the control panel.

“No,” you breathily exhaled, stepping forward to remove the plate from his hands just as he took up another sandwich. Hondo decided three was enough, allowing you to withdraw the tray without protest, nibbling on the end as you salaciously whispered, “now for the main course.”

The pirate’s expression morphed into an impish grin as you were now back on the same page. 

“Well, et es about time.” He quickly finished his snack within the next two bites just as the door to the lift sprung open to reveal yet another hall. You placed the half-empty tray down on a nearby side table, picking up two other items: a set of solid gold candleholders. They were antiques, and worth a small fortune; you emptied them and then stuffed them inside yet another of Hondo’s many pockets.

“Ah?” he asked quite simply, though you were already dragging him down and to the left. 

You were feeling frisky, and perhaps a bit more headstrong than before, wanting to defile and defy the stolen riches around you as well as your family name. To cavort with pirates, and your father’s long held enemy at that - even if the notorious scoundrel was none the wiser - had you riddled with excitable, anxious energy. Not only that, you were dying to take this man to bed, but not just any bed - the best, most luxurious bed in all your home – the one belonging to your parents.

You paused your trek, Hondo nearly bumping into you as you listened for complete silence, though he had made a sound of mild reproach. “Are we playing hide and seek?” he asked with a questioning lilt to his voice.

“Shhh,” you encouraged him - despite the scoff he gave - to be quiet for just one moment. You were sure your mother was in the lounge downstairs, sipping her expensive wine and watching holodramas for lack of anything better to do. Although it was getting late, she was known for staying up all hours, and she often slept on the sofa in her clothes. 

Once sure there was no one else about, you took him to the suite at the end of the hall, shoving open one of the massive doors to reveal a room so large it may as well be an apartment in and of itself that rented for four thousand credits a month on Coruscant. 

“Well, well, well!” Hondo marched past you and toward the middle of the space, forgetting immediately that he had been lightly scolded. It gave you enough time to turn over a family holo-photo that was being projected on a table by the door. “Dis bed es big enough tu fit three of me, ah?”

“One will do,” you were quick to retort, gently pushing him forward with both hands, your palms flat against the lower part of his back. 

The man humored you, allowing himself to be ferried. “Yes, et es a fact you could not handle more dan one of me,” he quipped. “Dere es no shame en dat, my dear.”

He turned on you quite suddenly, a devious look that was new-to-you plastered across his angular face. It was safe to say he had caught on to why you were here, the corners of his eyes crinkling alongside the upward curve of his toothy grin. 

“After yo—” His face fell, as you had already begun to walk away in the opposite direction, Hondo having been prepared to usher you where you rightfully belonged – atop sateen sheets and plush pillows. However, you had other plans, only meaning to delay your coupling a moment longer by way of marching straight toward  another door.

It parted to reveal a walk-in closet of ginormous proportions, Hondo peeking his head in behind you as you stepped forward, the Weequay’s lips forming a solid “o” shape unbeknownst to you just behind your shoulder. 

“Your boudoir has a… boudoir?” he asked cheekily, noting the posh clothing and accessories that were housed within. Handbags lined one wall, and hats another. There was shelving for shoes of all kinds, including those typically for men. Hondo quirked his head, not guessing you would be one to want to adorn a three-piece suit, though many hung carefully ironed and arranged on hooks. 

“Ah, we lead a double life, du we?” The pirate sauntered forward, fingering the length of one of your father’s designer coats as you became busy opening various drawers and miniature cabinetry; these stylized boxes were designed to hold rings, necklaces, and things like solid gold cufflinks, or platinum tie clips – a plethora of exquisite items resided here – things that were never worn or used after their initial purchase. It was all for show, and a waste of money. You were determined to make a dent in your parent’s horde.

“It’s my father’s,” you offered with a laugh, collecting all manner of jewelry and trinkets that were pocket-sized. 

“I must say, his tailor es a being of unmatched skill,” the scoundrel admitted, rather admiring the pattern sewn into the rich emerald fabric he was fawning over. You distracted him by sidling up to his hip, hands burdened with more treasure being unloaded into any empty nook or cranny you could find upon his person. 

Hondo stopped to stare, encapsulating your wrist with a mild pinch of his fingers. Your eyes traveled upward progressively, coming to rest on his, so beautiful and expressive, yet now they were narrowed in apprehension as was the theme for this evening. 

“And would he… approve of dis?” the Weequay asked, his voice taking on a dour quality.

You shared eye contact for a few more seconds, thinking of how you ought to kiss him again, right then and there, the far off look in your gaze being replaced by a vampish smile. 

“No,” you responded plainly, sealing your answer with a frivolous giggle, marching past the knave to exit back into the main chamber of your parent’s suite.

Hondo’s own smile returned, spreading across his corrugated face like the rising of a sun at first light. He briskly followed you, commenting on your behavior. “Now I tink I am beginning tu… understand.”

You would not allow him to finish that thought, turning for your skirt to swirl around your legs as you clasped his hand, dragging Hondo toward the monstrous bed that lay positioned against the adjacent wall. It was the main feature of this elegant space, and it hardly saw any use as far as you were aware. With your mother always passing out on her chaise lounge, and your father being absent more often than not, you were sure this was the first time it would see any action since the dawn of the current decade. 

“Time to finish what I started,” you bawdily suggested. 

“Ap-ap-ap,” the pirate interjected, interrupting your plans when he drew you in, forcing you to spin on your heel to face him. “Now et es my turn, darling.” 

He released your hand, then pushed you gently, barely exerting any force. You took a tumble right onto the bed behind you; you laughed gayly, stretching your arms out toward the pirate, suddenly overcome by a rather playful mood. “Come to me,” you whispered. 

He took one step forward, and you scuttled one inch back, Hondo smirking as he drew ever closer. “Et es not I who will be coming,” he teased, “not yet, anyway,” he offered in a dry and passive tone. 

You watched in awe as he crawled atop you, the Weequay repositioning his coat so its tails would not get in his way. How had you lucked out so well? You remained captivated as he slowly worked his way down, the delicious weight of his body pressing into yours as he took the time to run his lanky fingers along the curve of your jaw. 

“A work of art,” he complimented, causing your cheeks to burn. 

“Flatterer,” you shushed him, a hand lifting for your forefinger to skim vertically down the Weequay’s textured lips. The man took up your hand and placed a tender kiss against the back of it, coolly maneuvering your wrist to a place just above your head. 

Hondo would hold you to this spot, fingers intertwined amongst yours, only gradually releasing you the farther and farther he journeyed down the span of your shapely form. Ah, but he knew you would not stray; you would not stop what was about to happen, for you had gone to such great lengths to readily seduce him. 

“But I am telling de truth. Should I hold my tongue?” he asked mischievously, expecting he already knew the answer to that question. “Or, would you prefer dat I use et?” he added, the undersides of his banded fingers taking to caressing the pliable meat of your thigh. 

His gilded teeth met with the fabric of your dress; Hondo hiked your skirt up, rising to gently reposition it by way of his mouth. A little shiver rode up your arms as you watched this intimate act, your anticipation only heightening every second that ticked by.

You bit your lip, chewing absentmindedly as you had become enthralled with every minute movement the pirate made, his current set being for long, lithe fingers to gingerly tug at the corners of your panties. 

“May I?” he inquired, asking for your permission. He was such a gentleman, you thought. 

“You needn’t ask,” you offered, words muted, heart thumping beneath a cage of bone as you witnessed the beginnings of the removal of your undergarments.

“As. I. suspected,” Hondo joked, kissing the upper portion of your leg. He would discard your underwear with a theatrical toss, the scent of your arousal engulfing his senses. 

Hondo was overtaken by an immediate desire to make you beg. 

Oh, he would bring you to the brink, to the edge of sanity; you would never forget his name – not that you could – remaining unparalleled and unrivaled to any subsequent lovers of yours for as long as you continued to live. 

Hondo would get comfortable, splaying his legs behind himself, lying flat on his belly with a sea of brocade and crimson waving out to either flank. Then, the ne'er-do-well briefly slipped his palms beneath your buttocks as he dragged you forward, hands sliding up each curve so that two wide thumbs could press back the lips of your labia toward the narrow, inguinal groove that connected abdomen to hip; he spread you open as you watched.

You practically moaned before he ever touched you, observing the thick, broad, black muscle that unfurled from the depths of his wicked mouth to taste you. A crafty tongue traversed the breadth of your vulva, artfully slow; it meticulously lapped a line to the cusp of your clit, the foppish freebooter kicking his feet as he felt the squirm of your stomach; the tightening of tendons and sinews, all a form of nonverbal encouragement and he had barely begun.

“Hondo,” you purred deliciously; your sweet adulation of his name was almost as tasty, this single mention spurring him to enliven his pace, but not by much. He was exacting when it came to this, doling out pleasure on his terms, his flannelmouth good for more than just weaving tall tales or boasting of his misadventures. 

“Yes, love?” he asked between masterful strokes, stopping to suck the pulsing pearl that craved attention, thighs quaking as your belly lurched, so close already. 

The villain paused, lifting his head, helmet rising first as beady, silver eyes zeroed in on your face contorted in the near midst of passion. He grinned fiendishly as you whimpered a complaint, ragged breaths exuded from lungs which expanded and contracted in rapid pants. 

“Don’t stop,” you implored him for the second time this evening, falling back to rest your head on your parent’s garish coverlet. Your fingers dug into the lavish, designer pattern as you twisted fine threads into stringent clusters inside your bunching fists. You languorously hiked a knee, letting it fall to one side as you stretched yourself wider, one hand unwinding to reach outward so that you could cup your lover’s cheek, slithering betwixt thorn-like frills to caress striated, tawny skin. 

“Iiii… du not tink I heard a ‘please,’” Hondo chided, feigning to be disappointed by your manners, or lack therefore, though he was already so fond of teasing you; you writhed exceptionally well, and the soft, well-placed caress of your hand alongside his face was a nice touch, to say the least.

“Please, Hondo, please,” you urged, hips grinding subtly into the sheets below as your body ached for more. 

The scamp simpered; he laughed a wry, cold laugh, Hondo taking the time to pluck two of his many golden rings off his long, spindly forefinger; they arrived in his pocket, beside all the other treasures stored there. He recalibrated his attention, once more dipping down below.

“Like music tu my ears,” he praised, voice dangerously low; words brazen. He tested you by carefully interring his ringless finger into the wet recess of your cunt, his tongue returning to its prior engagement before he had so shamelessly baited you to plead your case. 

A delicate flick across your clit paired with a succinct, patient gliding back and forth against the seat of your pleasure caused your limbs to insensibly convulse without your say; the tip would coil, applying a scant amount of pressure toward that special place, your belly gasping as you released the scoundrel from your grip to claw at bits of pillowy satin. 

“Yes, yes—” you uttered, voice restrained as you attempted to assuage yourself from making too much noise. You turned your head so that you might bury your face in bedding, Hondo once more lifting up to scold you.

“Ut-ut-ut! I want tu hear you, sweetheart,” the man boldly informed you, having so rudely taken his tongue away so that he could talk. You pouted like a spoiled youngling, ready to throw a fit if the Weequay would not let you cum, once more begging him to finish.

“Oh, please, Hondo— keep going,” you beseeched him in a most convincingly humble tone. 

“Hmn…” the bastard uttered, rather enjoying himself by denying you your finish. “I suppose et es de least I can du, no? For all de trouble you went tu, bringing me here and filling my pockets with such handsome, valuable treasures.”

“Yes, exactly,” you agreed, though to your dismay Hondo briefly disengaged. You almost cried out for him, though he did not stray too far, only readjusting.

“Aww, my sweet…You are breaking dis old pirate’s heart,” he proclaimed, though you were not any more reassured. “Let me not keep you waiting a moment longer,” he taunted playfully, his deft thumb placing itself atop your clit to swirl so, so slowly; so, so softly. 

Hondo massaged you with diligence even so, craning his neck to instead lap at your already slick sex, inserting the point of a lengthy onyx tongue between your velvet lips. He kissed you below the belt as if he were kissing another mouth; he was eager, industrious, and terribly unhurried, but it was his snail’s pace that pushed you to the verge, your imagination running wild as you had chosen to stare at the vaulted ceiling of your parent’s bedroom.

You could feel every aspect, every swipe, every inch of that roiling, dancing organ that made-out with your cunt as it probed and caressed you, your stomach jerking in that same telltale manner as he brought you to the brink.

You spoke his name, this time louder, not knowing who might be listening in, or even caring. Hondo did not bother to increase his speed; he kept things steady and on an even course; it almost drove you mad, the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears nearly drowning out the sound of your mother’s piercing shriek. 

She called out to you, shocked and appalled by what she was witnessing, a bottle of some expensive, imported wine clutched firmly in her hand. You had been midway through an orgasm, so unbelievably caught off guard that your brain and body were no longer communicating. 

Hondo marginally cocked his head, tongue retracting back into his mouth as he hovered above you, legs lowering to be eased back behind himself; he had taken to lightly treading air in his excitement, turning to face you as even he - for a moment - was unsure of how to behave toward this bleating woman.

“A friend of yours?” he questioned.

“Mother!” you screeched, pushing your skirt back down; Hondo made a sound that began as a thing undignified, but it quickly worsened as it turned toward a choke; you had labeled this onlooker to be none other than the matriarch of your rich family.

“What a surprise! Won’t you join—er—” 

You pushed the pirate back, up and off you; at any other time, he would have been incensed, though he merely crawled onto his knees before he was able to stand and rid himself of any dust that may have collected - stereotypically - on his shoulder.

Hondo did not take into account the… sizable erection he bore, clearly visible by the raised fabric of his trousers. Clearing his throat, Hondo adjusted his coat to partially hide his heightened state of arousal; he did not necessarily mind being caught. 

However, he also did not quite see the point, as he had just been discovered eating out this woman’s daughter, and in her own bed, no less. What did it matter if his cock was as hard as boa-wood? 

Hondo glanced at you as you hastily tried to mask your shame, having tossed the so-far-unused comforter over yourself, though you had since rearranged your dress. 

“Before you say anything—” you interposed, your parental unit having opened her mouth to hopefully do something besides scream. You stood to your feet, then brushed out the wrinkles in your clothes, “—this is Hondo Ohnaka.” You made sure to enunciate that last part.

The woman’s face fell; she strode forward. She circled about the man, taking him in as if he were a circus performer, or some kind of specimen to be studied in a science lab. Her steps were jaunty; she had all the confidence of royalty, however sloshed. Hondo trailed her with his eyes, ready to speak when she burst out laughing. 

“Madam, I fail tu see what es so funny.” 

Your mother pressed a finger to Ohnaka’s lips; she continued her observation as Hondo knit his brow, his beautiful eyes narrowing into deadly slits. He looked to you again as you stood, flinging his disheveled braids out over his back with an agitated cast of his head; he was not amused, impatient for you to explain yourself and why you had kept him a secret from your housemaid but not from your own flesh and blood.

“The pirate?!” she finally asked, throwing her neck back to cackle toward the cathedral ceiling, following it with another large swig of red wine. 

“Ah, so you have heard of me as well,” Hondo beamed, mood predictably changing. Your mother stared at him as if he was a figment of her mind, recalling all the instances that her husband had nearly blown a blood vessel thanks to this intriguing character. 

She laughed again, a dry, derisive sound, swirling to face you, bottle in tow. 

“Mother, I—” She grasped you by the strap of your dress, pulling you close to her face; she smelled strongly of alcohol and expensive perfume; it was a fragrance she preferred that was harvested from Nlorna flowers. 

“Anywhere but here,” she whispered, then adding, “Hilre’s lurking about the house.” 

With that she released you, sashaying her hips as she left you there with another dry, sharp laugh; you fought to calm your pounding heart, once again turning to face your befuddled lover. It was clear Hondo did not appreciate your mother’s continued mockery; he had put on another sour face. You wondered if the jig was finally up, though you would still endeavor to try your luck. 

“This way—” you entreated, taking his hand as you prompted him to follow you back out into the hall. 

“—No!” he protested, his voice heavily punctuated by his charming Sriluurian accent. “Youuuu have kept Hondo en de dark long enough! What sort of place es dis, and what sort of person are you?” he demanded, words saturated in a smooth, dark baritone.  

You forced yourself not to smile, knowing he was genuinely perturbed, though you found it absolutely delightful that you should be able to get this far in your ruse - however innocent - when Hondo was known far and wide for his wily tricks. 

“I’ll tell you as we walk,” you promised, holding out your hand. Ohnaka scanned it unfavorably with his eyes before skirting it altogether, walking past you and out into the spacious corridor. 

You at once caught up, keeping pace as you guided him back toward the lift. “That man you told me the story about, the one that you used to steal weapons from during the Clone Wars-” you began, pressing the button that would soon open the elevator’s Clari-crystalline doors.

“-Annnnd what of him?” Hondo asked snootily, cutting you off. He looked down his broad, button nose at you. You came to terms with the fact you wished to kiss it though putting the idea on the back burner for now.

“He’s—” You both stepped inside, Hondo wasting no time in finding a place to stand. He folded his arms as you picked whatever crazy spot you were taking him to now, it being the top, the fifth and final floor of your obscenely lavish-even-for-a-pirate’s home. 

You turned to meet his gaze; it was obvious he was now very skeptical of you. “All my days—” you paused, trying to work out just where to begin, “—I grew up hearing stories about you. My father was never present in my life; I grew up to resent him, and his work,” you confessed, gliding forward to take his hand in yours once more.

“Dis does not surprise me,” Hondo vaunted, though you would not let his inflated ego detract from what you meant to relay.

“This house, this money, these clothes I wear, that jewelry in your pocket – it’s blood money. Money earned from weapons sold that causes death and heartbreak on untold planets, from the Core Worlds to the Mid Rim, and perhaps even beyond,” you elucidated, Hondo listening with rapt attention to your story.

The chime for the turbolift dinged, signaling the arrival to your destination; your room was just down the hall; the entire level was yours.

“Yes, yes, go on,” Hondo prompted, having found himself curious in what you were about to say. You had not let go of his hand, ushering him to your private quarters without any more delay. 

“Even as a child it never sat well with me. I heard things, saw things. Things that disgusted me and made me ashamed, yet here I sit in the lap of luxury with nothing to show for it. But you—” You pulled Hondo forward and through your exceptionally tall doorway, kicking it closed behind you with the toe of your shoe. “You single-handedly thwarted his plans; you seized his product; you made his life a living nightmare, and for that I thank you.”

“Well, Iiii don’t know ef you would call et single-handedly—” Hondo began, but you had kissed him; the former leader of the Ohnaka gang only wished to give credit where credit was due. He supposed it could wait, his hands finding the dip in your waist to pull you close so that he might indulge you.

After a moment, he slipped back to look you in the eye, the cheekiest, most fiendish grin you had ever seen affixed to his smug mug. “So, one might say dat you have ‘daddy issues’—" his voice dropped nearly two octaves, thick like molasses, and noticeably subdued, “I should have known...”

“Your name was a constant in my household,” you breathed out. “I laughed when he cursed you; I wanted to know what it was like to be a pirate; I wanted to know you, see you. I wanted to run away and never look back, I had meant to escape this life, I—”  

Hondo had taken your chin in the flexure of his palm, his thumb almost absentmindedly trailing across your bottom lip in a bittersweet caress. “—And now… daddy’s little girl es all grown up,” he concluded, it being easy for him to ascertain where all of this was going. 

“Fuck me,” you pleaded earnestly and without warning, your tongue darting out to lick and suck Hondo’s thumb with somewhat sobering enthusiasm - not that Hondo was at all inebriated from those two glasses of Toniray back at the bar. He was just… surprised for the second time this evening; never in his wildest imaginings could he have predicted the way this night would fare.

“Sweet one, are you sure?” he asked in a peculiar tone, questioning your urgency. “We have been making a habit of being interrupted, et seems. Are you positive no one else es going tu come bursting en tu ruin our fun? Your… father, perhaps?” Hondo added seemingly as an afterthought, though it had been the most pertinent thing to ask. 

“He won’t be home for two whole days,” you whispered, still indefatigably kissing and sucking his thumb. 

“Den old Hondo will bestow upon you your greatest wish, dear child – me,” he ceded, walking you back the few steps it took him to lay you down. 

When the backs of your knees hit the bed, your legs folded; you sat down swiftly, tugging on the pirate’s blood-red coat. He hastily rid himself of it – albeit with the sound of loose jewels and credits clinking against metal - you doing the same with your dress. 

Your underwear was nowhere to be found, having left it on the floor of your parent’s suite. Hastily, you unfastened your brassiere, discarding it off to the side as Hondo kicked his boots off and bent down low over your retreating form. 

“Perhaps you would care tu undress me?” he inquired, tone sultry and seductive as he pierced you with look that caused your loins to tingle. 

“Please,” you requested, immediately going for his helmet. His eyes lifted as he watched your fingers stretch out toward his face, then vanish somewhere up above. You displaced it, setting it on the bed, Hondo’s bare head apart from his long braids now visible to the naked eye. 

He grinned again, a devilish stretch of his wide mouth as he flashed dual rows of aureate and pearl; you lifted his goggles up and over his forehead by their straps, for once able to see those sloped, ash-gray irises up close. 

You gasped mildly in shock; you were beguiled; his ears were pointed at their tips. You dropped his eyewear beside his helmet so that you could gingerly run your fingers along his strikingly handsome, reptilianesque face.

He bore a scar, its pigment lighter than the rest of his leathery skin, over one eye. His countenance was stark and skeletal, eyes sunken to protect them from harsh desert winds, though there were none of those on Oseon. You found you could not stop yourself from kissing him again, fondling and caressing his armored flesh; the tapered shape of his elvish ears. 

Hondo had to admit that this was somewhat unexpected. He had assumed you had other ideas when it came to the removal of his clothes, but you had gone for those accessories that prevented you from being able to delve into those windows of the soul. His swoop-pilot goggles were just as much for safety as they were for forestalling others from probing too deeply; Hondo always played his cards close to the vest. 

He gazed at you as if seeing you for the first time, and perhaps there was some truth to this, the Weequay’s chin lowering as he studied your pretty face in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You were more beautiful than he had previously thought, and the way you were drinking him in with your thirsty eyes was distracting and disarming. It was as if he was water itself, and you were so very, very parched. 

It was either that, or he now felt vulnerable, having nothing to hide behind; nothing to shield him from your scrutiny. 

“I take et you… like what you see,” Hondo said sonorously, yet there was a lacquer of uncertainty in his tone. 

Did you like it? Were you disappointed?

As if addressing his implicit fears, you pulled him down on top of you. “More than anything,” you whispered, excitable hands ripping at his tunic. Hondo subsequently assisted you, removing his arms from their long sleeves. As he did the rest, you redirected your energy toward the belt buckle that bore the symbol of a life since past; his Ohnaka gang was no more, but they were nothing without the man himself to lead them.

“Dat es what I like tu hear…” 

He had a moment when you were unzipping his pants that he thought about your reasons for wanting him, the daughter of a weapon’s dealer scorned. Oh, how you must have despised your father, and your mother was a piece of work herself. Many times he had been as wasted as he had seen that woman; more so, yet— had she also been a lush when you were still in diapers? Had you always found yourself to be neglected? He knew something of that.

Perhaps this was to be your revenge; Hondo knew something of that too, yet he did not once feel used. And even if you were using him, far be it from him to complain. 

Still, he saw genuine affection in your eyes, or was it awe? He could not blame you for desiring to copulate with him; you were not the first person to take him for a ride, but perhaps this was the first time it almost seemed funny. Funny, but endearing, nonetheless.

You had placed him on a pedestal without his knowing anything about you; he was some sort of heroic figure, or a person to look up to; a role model, though a poor one. He almost wondered if he should be doing this – almost. 

Then, your warm hand was on his prick; it brought him out of his quiet meditation, a thing Hondo rarely was - quiet. The pirate pushed his trousers down off his knees and toward his ankles, kicking each pant leg loose, one by one, so that you might bask in his full-blown nakedness. 

“Uhh- how old ded you say you are?” he suddenly asked, his voice holding within a modicum of trepidation; he did not take the time to do the math himself.

You laughed brightly. “Old enough,” you replied.

That was good enough for him, though he was significantly your elder. If it did not matter to you, it did not matter to him. He had no more reason to think about it, your tender lips meeting with his. 

You were overtaken by desire, lifting your legs to wrap them properly around his torso. You guided him in, your free arm hooking around his neck for your human hand to clasp the back of his head as you aimed to kiss him hard and deep.

Hondo moaned against your mouth, helping to ferry himself forward; you took that part of him that was ribbed and ridged in your palm, angling your hips so that you could begin to slide it within yourself. 

The man inhaled sharply through his nostrils as you inched your way down, down along his shaft until his cock was buried fully inside you. Your plush inner walls gave it a loving squeeze, Kegel muscles tightening insofar that Hondo’s whole body went rigid, the Weequay pulling away from your greedy lips. 

“Mmn -- keep doing dat, and I won’t last long,” he forewarned, but you were already using your legs around him as leverage to glide back and forth across his girth – and girthy it was.

Each raised line, each groove of his phallus felt wonderful inside you. It was alien, unlike anything you had ever felt before, already close to satisfying every itch nothing else could seem to scratch.

You let out an uneven exhalation, gripping the man by the shoulders. Your eyelids fluttered as you whimpered a dulcet sound in his goblin ear, coming already from only a few strokes of him inside you.

Hondo tilted his head, having not even begun to fuck you. He thought you to be exquisite, your face twisting in pleasure without him so much as having to pump his hips. 

“Wait for Hondo, no?” he teased.

You laughed shakily, though it was almost forced, still coming off your high. Finally, you opened your eyes fully to look at him; he was too perfect. Your heart ached, knowing that beyond your short time together lay uncertainty, and that you might never see him again after tonight. It was a thought you nearly could not bear.

Your eyes welled with tears; your emotions were short-circuiting. Hondo pulled back, momentarily concerned. “Darling, what es wrong? Have I done someting?” he asked. 

“You’re not kissing me enough,” you lied, though sounding needy.  He stared at you long and hard before bending at his waist to dip low and press his mouth to yours. You hungrily accepted it, cinching your legs around his flanks to push him deeper still.

Hondo lightly gasped before it morphed into a moan of gratitude for your healthy appetite. He was also feeling something, respecting your tenacity while also marveling at the copious amounts of attraction you felt for him. 

Why, it bordered infatuation, a thing that might be considered dangerous under the right, or wrong circumstances. Still, that did not dissuade him. His ego was being fed, and fed well.

And yet, he was beginning to like you. Perhaps it was all the gifts and gold you had bestowed upon him, the fact you were not just some ignorant, rich heiress, or the fact you were rebelling in the only way you knew how – by having promiscuous sex with your father’s hated enemy. In another life, maybe he would have had you join him on his quest to rob the galaxy, yet now he was nothing more than a washed-up pirate captain without a crew.

You exalted him, and he felt somewhat humbled by it. It was a foreign feeling, like that of being satisfied. While definitely not new, per se, it was different. It was not exhilarating in the same way he had once presided over droves of men to do his bidding. No, this was like drugs, like the most potent strain of spice, or the drowsy, stupefying effects of the nastiest narcotic. For a moment, he felt lost in the sweet heat of your debauched embrace. 

But Hondo would feel the damp trickle of your tears; people did many unusual things in the throes of passion, such as claiming love when there was no such thing to be found upon its finish. Still, he wondered, the underside of his thumb daring to brush those pesky drops away as his tongue remained ensconced in your tepid mouth. 

So moved by the gesture, you could have cried ten times over, however humiliating, pulling away to exact your grip with the muscles of your thighs to a more readied position. Your kisses came quick, feverish, incrementally deeper, faster, as if you were a woman starved for months on end who was only now allowed to partake of the most forbidden fruit. 

“Sweetheart,” Hondo lightly berated, “you have me,” he posited. “Du not rush et, hm?”

He had coerced you to slow, to follow his pace, your ardency unbidden and almost uncontrollable. You could only nod, arching your hips to settle at a more favorable angle, each languid caress of him inside you causing your toes to curl. The wet squelch of his cock thrusting into your cunt was reminiscent of the finest music, igniting your senses as if your whole body would soon burst into flames.

The dastardly being captured a pillow for his use, propping you up so that you might relax. Hondo dragged you forward until your body was folding on itself, your sex snugly bound to his groin as your back remained level on the sheets.  

Powerful thighs propelled him forward as gentle hands groped yours, sliding up the smooth flesh of your legs to come to rest at the cusps of your hips. Sinewy fingers bit down, snaking around to grasp the meat of your ass as Hondo pressed his cock to the head of your cervix, careful not to push too far or to cause you pain. 

“Harder,” you dared. “Deeper.”

He did not ridicule you for this; he looked up with those heavenly sky-gray eyes. One hand crawled to the curve of your middle back as he clasped you tightly, ramming you repeatedly with the alien shape of his thick, ribbed shaft. 

All you could do was lie there, mouth parted to exude nothing but startled silence, pain mixed with pleasure rocking you to the very fiber of your nerve endings. Hondo would grunt generously with every precise stroke of himself inside you as your body twisted in ecstasy; he was unable to help himself as he cupped the roundness of your breast in his hand, the other still holding you partially aloft.

“Breathe, my dear,” he whispered as you started to unravel, your form jolting with every forceful push of his hips as he pinched your raised nipple. The tears returned, though it felt so right to cry, the warmth stored in your belly blossoming into elated moans as you gasped for air.

“Hondo,” was all you could think to say, “fuck, Hondo—” you repeated, perhaps louder than you meant to be. 

“Dat es what I am doing,” the man above you whispered in a salacious tease. 

“Hondo fucking Ohnaka,” you laughed, at once coming a fourth time that evening as you wailed to the walls, the ceiling, and anyone who might hear you, despite not knowing that indeed your housekeeper would, as she had parked herself for the last five minutes right outside your door. 

“May I, darling? I can’t – hold—” he struggled to keep at it, wanting nothing more than to please you thoroughly before he himself got his. In fact, he had never asked if you had any sort of protection to ward off pregnancy, not that he wasn’t sure he had several bastards out there roaming throughout the galaxy without an inkling as to who they were, or to whom they belonged. 

“Cum inside me,” you uttered coyly, batting your sultry lashes in that way only a woman knew how. Having given him permission, Hondo obliged; you gleefully held his pulsating cock in place, feeling every pump of semen enter you as you cupped your lower abdomen and pushed down on purpose, just to intensify his orgasm. 

The Weequay’s eyelids fluttered as did his erection in your guts, spurts of hot ejaculate coating your insides until there was nothing left of himself to give. He pulled out, a creamy white substance dribbling down the inside of your legs, the man doing all in his power to calm his mind and regain control of his gelatinous limbs.

“I—dat was—” he began, gently releasing your lower half so that you might lie down properly. He would soon join you, bereft of energy, sprawled prostrate on his belly as he began to succumb to drowsiness. “Perhaps I could just… rest here a little while, ah?” he asked.

“My home is yours,” you whispered, cradling the Weequay’s head in your arms as your hands cushioned the sharp angles of his face. You would only leave him momentarily to clean yourself and to locate a clean towel in your personal refresher, doing your best to sop up both his and your own excess.

Once accomplished, you drew him to your bosom like a thing forever to be cherished. You tucked yourself around him like a warm blanket, never once worrying that you might get a rude awakening, though Madam Hilre had her own plans once her suspicions had been undeniably confirmed. 

Still, at that moment, you were floating high above the artificial clouds of Oseon, not caring what daybreak might bring, only that you were content to lie here at Hondo Ohnaka’s side for as long as fate allowed.

---

You showered but did not dress. It was a balmy morning, and the warmth of fresh brewed caf enlivened you. Hondo would encircle you, as if lovers on a honeymoon, gathering your waist with one arm as he partook of his own beverage in the opposing hand. 

Your view was of the gate below, surrounded by a lush garden that Hondo had somehow failed to notice on his way in, taking the time to rub your naked belly tenderly as he peered over your shoulder, breathing in the perfume of fresh flowers that he knew, unfortunately, were not real. 

Nor was the tree that provided you with shade, just to the right of your commodious balcony. It looked real, he thought, knowing that not every planet could be so lucky as to have foliage as lustrous as Naboo, or Eriadu. 

Drinking from his cup, he offered his compliments, the first thing said on this bright, beautiful day. “Delicious, as es everyting en dis house.” His upper lip perked slightly, “including you,” he added cheekily. 

It was so early, and yet faithful Mara had left you a pot of caf outside your door with a timid knock. Had you not already been awake, you were sure you would have missed it, the smell having brought Hondo to consciousness some few minutes later. You were happy he had joined you, your neck craning back to grace the man with a good morning kiss, the hand not wholly occupied subtly pushing his a little lower, his fingers skirting your soft mound. 

“Is that so?” you asked, Hondo entertaining your early morning lust by slipping between the folds of your labia. He spread you apart at the seam, reintroducing himself to your hypersensitive clit only to massage sumptuous little circles so masterfully it made your eyes begin to roll toward the back of your head.

“Et es.” 

You tossed your mug and let it break somewhere off to the side, grasping the back of Hondo’s head as you prompted him closer to you, the Weequay’s long, black tongue delving into the deepest parts of your throat as he bent down to engulf you in his sweet embrace.

You involuntarily writhed, sharing the same breath from Hondo’s lungs as you moaned against his lips, offering him your orgasm through the impassioned furl of your tongue. 

“Stay with me,” you uttered your plea softly, Hondo’s hand once more trailing up so that his fingers could wind carefully around your vulnerable throat. He swiped your bottom lip with his thumb as the rest of his fingers moved to grasp your chin. Then, he forced you to look at him as he studied your face, there being an intensity to his gaze you could not place. 

He meant to speak, only he was interrupted by your servant busting through the door. She did not stop there, rushing onward to the balcony, covering her eyes for sake of modesty even though her voice rang out high-pitched and alarmed.

“Miss! Your father’s coming!” she blurted out, “Hilre caught onto who you’ve brought home!” 

“What?” you turned to face her, not caring that you were naked, only fearing for Hondo’s safety and the sudden announcement Mara had made. “That fucking bitch!”

Mara dropped her hands; her eyes darted between the both of you, Hondo taking a sip from his mug as if unperturbed, thinking he perhaps still had time yet to finish his caf.

“I heard her on the comm! She knows he’s—” Her eyes widened as she had chanced to look, really look, at the Weequay who had on not a scrap of clothes “—Hondo Ohnaka!”

“So I am,” Hondo said offhand with a playful grin.

“How far out is he?” you demanded, wondering what else she may have overheard, ignoring the Weequay who was at the heart of your concern.

“Don’t know, miss, but—” 

There was a sound like that of a single blaster shot. Hondo’s mug shattered in his hand. “Uh—” 

All three of you turned to look; your father’s personal guard was on the lawn, gazing up at you five stories high. 

“Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Indeed,” Hondo replied, dropping the handle to the ground; it was all that remained, the men below belting out curses and obscenities as they began to rush inside. 

“You have to go!” you urged him. Hondo seemed to agree, flying past you and your dutiful maid to gather first his trousers, and then his tunic from off your floor. 

“Mara!” you ordered, “belay them; turn off power to the lift!”

“Yes, miss!” she replied, giving a curt nod of her head. She was out the door in seconds; you thought this woman deserved a raise for all she had to go through on your behalf.

Someone screamed your name; you darted to the balcony once more, Hondo having already adorned his helmet, his goggles, and his crimson coat. 

Your father and several of his hired goons stared up at you, his jaw having dropped to the ground. In your haste, you had forgotten you were in the buff, the man yelling so pointedly you thought he might give himself an aneurysm. “Is he in there with you?!” he demanded,  followed by a furious, “put some damn clothes on, for fuck’s sake!” 

He did not wait for an answer, stampeding into the house with an entourage of four other men. Hondo had slipped on his boots in the nick of time, witnessing the tail end of your father’s heated outburst. His duster jingled with every movement, full of the treasure you had so kindly conferred to his possession, silver eyes sparkling in the light of this asteroid’s star. 

“Go north,” you instructed him, firmly clasping his cheek in the crook of your palm. “Docking Bay seventy-seven, there is a ship there. It should be unlocked.” Your eyes brimmed, knowing this might be the last and only time you ever saw him. “Take it, hurry,” you implored him, Hondo giving you his most stunning smile.

“Ah, a double-seven! What a lucky number, ah?” Then, he paused. “I will never forget you,” he promised, jumping with surprising agility on top of the nearby banister as if it was nothing at all; the railing was fashioned from pure, Durosian marble and quite elegant, though it also served its purpose as a step stool. 

This is when Hondo felt truly alive: laden with gold, jewels, credits, and escaping with his life and dignity intact. He looked over his shoulder when he heard you shout; you were doing your utmost to distract and delay your father’s guards just as the man himself stormed into the room. 

You had common sense enough to grab a robe that had been previously discarded over the high-backed chair of your vanity, tossing it on to clothe yourself, only if so your father’s thugs couldn’t get an eyeful any more than they already had. Then, you heard your own last name; Hondo was calling out to your father from his perch in a nearby tree, the brigand holding on with one hand as he dared to give him a mock salute. It was a gesture that was almost friendly, the scalawag unable to miss out on his chance to gloat.

“Another ting I have stolen from you, ah?” Hondo asked cockily. “Your peace of mind, and your daughter’s heart.” In that moment, the newly risen sun caused a plethora of gems, jewels, crystals and gold to gleam, light refracting radiantly with as many colors as a Kallakean rainbow from out the numerous pockets of Hondo’s stolen coat.

“Filthy Quay!” you father bellowed.

Hondo blew in your direction one final kiss.

“No!” you screeched as your patriarch withdrew his pistol in a fit of unbridled rage. You shoved him as hard as your strength permitted, guards scurrying valiantly to surround you on all sides as others fired aimlessly at the now vacant spot on which Hondo had hung like a Kowakian monkey-lizard from off a single branch. 

Burly men held your arms as you gazed after the retreating form of your audacious lover, your heart beating fervently in your chest with the joyous knowledge he had escaped unscathed to live and fight another day. You could not help it; you laughed without reserve. To simultaneously scorn your father and fall from his favor had been an easy feat. But no matter what was to become of you, you would be content, because it had all been worth it in the end.

Main Masterlist

Hondo Ohnaka Masterlist

[whencyclopedia]

Allied Bombing of Germany

The Allied strategic bombing of Germany during World War II (1939-45) had multiple aims, which included destroying Germany's capacity to produce weapons; disrupting transport networks and supplies of oil, steel, and coal; destroying the German air force; and breaking civilian morale. To these ends, industrial cities, factories, railways, airfields, and dams were struck throughout the conflict.

Secondary goals of the strategic bombing campaign by the British Royal Air Force (RAF) and United States Army Air Force (USAAF) included boosting home morale that Germany was paying a price for its invasion of Europe and bombing of Britain. Another aim was to demonstrate to the USSR that the Western allies were assisting the Soviet campaign on the Eastern Front. Some Allied commanders believed that the war could be won using air power alone, avoiding a land invasion. As it turned out, despite the bombers causing tremendous physical damage and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of civilians, Germany fought on, and only a land operation from the east and west would finally win the war.

Why Did the Allies Bomb Germany?

The official military objectives of the strategic bombing of Germany are indicated in several directives formulated by the Allied Joint Chiefs of Staff. The Casablanca conference in January 1943 noted that the objective of the bombing offensive was:

The progressive destruction and dislocation of the German military, industrial and economic system, and the undermining of the morale of the German people to a point where their capacity for armed resistance is fatally weakened. (Dear, 196)

The Casablanca objective was amended by the Pointblank Directive of June 1943. This emphasised the importance of destroying German fighter plane production in readiness for the D-Day Normandy landings (Operation Overlord) planned for the summer of 1944. Before the Allies could contemplate a land invasion of Continental Europe they had to achieve air superiority or their armada would be destroyed. The Quebec conference of August 1943 reaffirmed the objectives of Casablanca and Pointblank but removed the objective regarding civilian morale.

Other aims of the bombings, perhaps not officially expressed but there, nonetheless, were to show the British and American public and Russia that something was being done to take the war to Germany. In the absence of a land attack on Germany, bombing was the next best thing. As the German Armaments Minister Albert Speer (1905-1981) noted, the air war became "a second front", one that absorbed men and machines which otherwise could have been used on the Eastern Front against Russia and in coastal defences in northern France.

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[pasiphile]

Hi there! Twiddling my thumbs on how to/whether to say this, but finding your Sherlock fic as a teenager (yeah, we’ve both been here that long, I am now eyeing my thirties in the street) was incredibly formative.

TVD (and Good Girls Don’t) was one of the first brain-changingly good pieces of online fiction I had ever read, and it made the days I worked that soul-wearying first job a little brighter. Or a lot. You gave me imagination and a playground for exploring my own writing, which continues to be a primary joy in my life. So — these two words aren’t enough. Thank you. 🩵

So, on to the writing! I have to ask for a Mormor prompt. Maybe the boys enjoying each other after a long absence, bonus for domesticity?

(gosh. I occasionally get messages like this and I always have to stare at the wall for a bit. I wrote it at a rather shitty time for me too and it definitely helped me get through it, so the thought that I made - make!- other people feel the same way means A Lot. Thank you <3)

The flat feels empty. Too empty.

It’s strange. It never did before. An empty place all for himself had been a luxury for many years. And after that, a necessity, a way to relax, recharge.

Except now all of a sudden the silence is too silent, the order too neat, the spaces too big. It’s absurd, and annoying.

He leans his head forward against the window, looking down at the street below. So many people and yet there’s just one, just one out of seven billion, who feels like –

The door opens behind him and he straightens up. “I’m back!” Sebastian’s voice bellows through the living room.

“I can see that.”

Sebastian starts, only spotting him now, then grins. “And I’m sweating like a pig. Manchester to London on public transport and let me tell you, those trains are not equipped to deal with thirty-five degrees Celsius, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll head straight for the shower.”

And before Jim can even think to react, mind and action sluggish in a way that’s totally inexcusable, Sebastian has dropped his bag and he strides past, already taking off his stained T-shirt and leaving behind a waft of deodorant and sweat and stale cigarettes, disgusting except it isn’t.

“Pick up your dirty laundry, you’re not a teenager,” Jim says, more on automatic than out of conscious thought, but Sebastian obediently doubles back to pick the shirt up, no comment.

The bathroom door closes. A moment later, the sound of the shower.

When did this happen? When he’d invited Sebastian to live with him? Before that, the first time he’d let him into the flat? When did he start to fill the spaces Jim hadn’t even been aware were empty?

He goes to the bathroom and slips in, quietly even though it’s futile to Sebastian with his SAS-instincts.

The dirty clothes are obediently in the hamper, tidied away. The steam smells of soap, not his, all alien and all familiar.

The shower switches off and Sebastian steps out. He grins, again, and spreads his arms as if to present the goods. “Did you miss me, then?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s smile slips. It’s too open, too bare, they don’t do this sort of thing, Jim doesn’t do this sort of thing.

“Of course I miss a loud, stinking oaf of a man dirtying up my flat,” Jim adds, and Sebastian relaxes, never mind that it’s actually true. “And you? Pining for home?”

“The moment I stepped out of the door.” Sebastian shrugs and turns to the mirror, absently running a hand through his hair. “You know me, I’m sappy that way.”

Jim grabs Sebastian’s arm and yanks him around, other hand finding his throat and slamming him against the wall, or rather, Sebastian lets him do all that because as always the balance is in his favour, Sebastian could break him like a twig if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. That’s the point.

“Missed you too,” Sebastian says, voice slightly constricted through the chokehold. “This, especially. Now can you calm the fuck down?”

Jim loosens his grip, breathes out. “You know I should have you killed.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, calmly. “But you don’t. Do you?”

“No.” He leans in, nose against Sebastian’s throat, nothing there left now but the scent of soap, the one Jim got him a month ago because he was tired of Sebastian smelling like a locker room full of teenaged boys.”

“All right. Now that’s out of the way, can we  nghk “

Jim gets his teeth from Sebastian’s neck and leans back, smiling beatifically while his other hand keeps a new chokehold on Sebastian’s cock. “Yes?”

Sebastian gasps for air, then smirks, so wide it threatens to split his face. “Whatever you want.”

That’s the point.

Jim returns the smirk, then lets go and without even needing prompting, Sebastian goes to his knees.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi

I use your blog and i love finding new stories Thank alot for that and every work you do. I was wondering if there were "stranger to lover" fic

Hello and you're welcome! Here are some strangers to lovers fics...

One night in Paris by orphan_account (G)

He called me “love”, I didn’t mind. He grabbed my hand, my knee. He put his head against my shoulder, laughing, dropping ash from the cig on the trousers. I didn’t mind either. We were drunk, that’s what drunk people do, and we were in Paris, which gave it a lovely touch. 

Perfect To Me by Aziwaphale (G)

Two strangers meet at a charity gala and fall for each other, except they weren't sober enough to trade phone numbers, so they have no way to contact each other. But fate works in mysterious ways.

That never takes the chance by DreamsOfAlexandria (E)

Aziraphale Fell had a problem. Anathema was about to get married in two hours and the wedding singer had just been transported to the hospital. Where to find a singer on such a short notice? Ideas, anybody?

On the Way Home From Rome by Caedmon (E)

Aziraphale is on the way home from Rome, looking forward to crawling into his own bed in London, when he meets an attractive - and maddening - man.

MatchMade! by amaruuk (E)

Crowley tests a new dating app for an online publication. When his match dumps him for another man's match, he and his fellow dumpee take a chance on each other.

Gourmet Espionage by Arielavader (E)

Aziraphale never expected his dinner to be interrupted by a handsome man, but he's more than happy to help. Hopefully he hasn't gotten in over his head ...

- Mod D