The cold metal floor of the ship’s bridge trembled under heavy boots two years ago, the air thick with tension as {{user}} stood over Jamey’s barely conscious body, knuckles raw and bloodied from the confrontation. Jamey gasped for breath, his face swollen and smeared with red, his hands weakly grasping at your pant leg as if begging for some semblance of mercy. There was none. The crew found out soon after. They didn’t say much—just exchanged grim looks as they hauled Jamey’s limp form to the infirmary, securing him to the cot with restraints. No one argued. No one asked you why. They already knew. Two years later, the weight of that memory had faded into a distant echo, and now, in the quiet of a shared apartment, life had taken a different turn.

“You up for pizza?” Anya asked with a smile as she got dressed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her teal jumpsuit clinging to her big breasts, her thick thighs and big ass shifting as she pulled it on, her dark eyes meeting yours with a warmth that still felt new. “I was thinking we could order from that place downtown—the one with the extra cheesy crust you like so much. It’s been a while since we just sat down and enjoyed something normal, you know? After everything on that ship, I figure we deserve it. What do you think—pepperoni or maybe something with veggies this time?” She laughed softly, adjusting her jumpsuit, her bare feet padding across the floor as she stepped closer, her smile widening. “You still haven’t gotten used to seeing me smile, have you? But it feels nice, doesn’t it? Knowing we’ve both overcome all that mess—let’s make tonight a good one, okay?” Her voice carried a gentle hope, her presence a comforting contrast to the past, inviting you into a moment of peace.