#If You Want It To Be Masterlist

[zepskies]

Series Masterlist - If You Want It To Be

Pairing: Dean W. x F. Reader 

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s one of my entries for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event! ❄️🩵

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Bickering, fluff, jealousy, angst, friends to lovers, smut.

Part 1: December 23

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Part 3: Christmas Day

Series Complete!

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Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Tag List:

Comment below or send me an ask if you'd like to be tagged in this series!

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@iprobablyshipit91 @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @emily-winchester @hobby27 @ades106

[pupkashi]

a/n: it’s 4 am and i miss gojo,, there is no rhyme or reason to his drabble, just vibes and yearning

masterlist

thinking abt laying in bed talking with gojo even though the two of you are beyond exhausted unbeknownst to the other.

your head is resting on his chest, your hands playing with his as you both giggle about something stupid. the moonlight is leaking through the blinds and the rain is loud enough to be heard easily.

satoru doesn’t care about how exhausted his body feels and how his eyelids have been drooping for the past ten minutes. he wants to spend all the time in the world with you, no matter how tired he was.

but even the strongest succumbs to sleep, and despite his best efforts he’s dozed off in the minute of silence that engulf the two of you.

“toru?” your voice is soft, and at the lack of a reply you can’t help but smile. there’s always a part of you the is relieved when satoru sleeps. finding comfort in the fact that your lover can finally rest, free of all problems from his life as he lays in bed with you. his white lashes kiss his cheeks, pink lips parted slightly.

“g’night angel boy” you whisper, moving softly and closing your burning eyes. truth is you were beyond exhausted, but you’d be damned if you didn’t stay up talking to satoru on the rare nights he was home early. you’d never tell him though, knowing he’d try and get you to sleep hours before he’d be able to.

it was something the two of you always kept from each other, telling the other a white lie on how much energy you still had. continuing the night with ‘I’m not even sleepy yet’ or urging the other to put another movie or episode on, the night is young!

there was an inkling on either end that the other was lying, but neither of you voice your suspicions. instead the two of you would cuddle up, talking to each other until one of you inevitably fell asleep first.

(satoru always likes to think he’s better at staying up than you, but he seems to always be the one to fall asleep first. he blames your comforting aura and nectarine voice.)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

tomura follows you around everywhere. it’s a bit suffocating but it’s endearing cus it’s him y’know ?

he’s clingy, a bit overprotective and to top it all off he’s a loser with no friends, so he has like—no choice but to be by you all of the time constantly everywhere. his logic, not yours.

but it’s a bit much at times. you’re used to it by now but from an outsiders point of view it could look a little freaky because there is practically no space between you at all. he’s always sorta roaming behind you just looking around while you do your thing, he looks spaced out most of time except when you ask him something and his eyes immediately zip over to answer you.

he’s almost completely pressed to your back, his hands are always fiddling with something on you, your hair, the back of your shirt, your pant pockets. anything and everything in his reach will be pulled and prodded to keep himself busy. he’ll tug at your shirt a little harder to signal he’s bored and will tell you so, whining n telling you to “hurry up.”

“i want to leave, this place stinks.” he mumbles, lips close to your ears, his hair tickles and you shrug your shoulders at the ticklish feeling. you turn to look at his slightly furrowed brows, irritation very present in his features. you boop his nose “be patient, i’m almost done.” you tease. you hear him grumble behind you, going back to tugging at your clothes and wrinkling them “patient, patient. i’ve been plenty damn patient. said you were almost done ten minutes ago..”

if you want to go the kitchen he’s stalking over to where you are, if you leave the room for a few seconds you can’t turn your back for a millisecond before he materializes behind you, it scares you every time and he laughs about making you jump every time. he’s annoyingly sneaky.

this man has absolutely no shame to me, he will absolutely just stay by the door while you pee. like he could be telling you about how one of his teammates fucked up one of his games while you walk around doing your own thing. but then when you get to the bathroom you tell him to wait a sec and when you reach for the door he stops you, looking just as confused as you. “i’m not done.” he says, raising a brow. and no matter how incredulously you stare he is hellbent on finishing his damn story even while you’re sitting on the loo. even has the nerve to go “you done ?” when he finishes lol

loosely based on @moodyvoid s lil post about shigaraki that i want to tattoo onto my skin

[housebite]

hilson episode masterlist

s1e5 damned if you do - house and wilson spend christmas together

s1e10 histories - wilson asks house to treat a patient

s1e18 babies & bathwater - vogler tries to get house removed from the hospital staff

s2e5 daddy's boy - $5000 is exchanged, wilson and house get dinner with house's parents

s2e7 all in - poker night benefit at ppth

s2e16 safe - prank war!

s2e19 house vs god - wilson tries to attend house's poker nights

s3e7 son of a coma guy - road trip and wilson interrogates house about stealing his pad, "maybe i don't want to push this until it breaks"

s3e22 resignation - wilson and house dose each other with ssris/speed

s4e1 alone - wilson kidnaps house's guitar

s4e3 97 seconds - "i love you", house helps wilson out of a funk

s4e12 don't ever change - house tries to break up amber and wilson

s4e16 wilson's heart - angst with a capital "A"

s5e4 birthmarks - wilson drags house to his father's funeral

s5e11 joy to the world - wilson bets house he can't receive a present from a patient

s5e15 the social contract - "does it bother you that we don't have a social contract?", wilson visits his brother

s5e23 "under my skin" - wilson tries to help house figure out his hallucinations

s6e3 epic fail - house tries out some new hobbies, wilson's along for the ride

s6e7 known unknowns - wilson is set to give a speech at an oncology conference

s6e10 wilson - "if you die, i'm alone"

s6e11 the down low - gay chicken

s6e13 moving the chain - house and wilson fight over their bathtub, leading to a prank war

s6e15 private lives - "be not afraid"

s6e16 black hole - house challenges wilson to furnish their apartment himself

s6e21 baggage - house moves out

s8e20 post mortem - wilson forces house out on a road trip

s7e5 unplanned parenthood - wilson and house struggle with babysitting

s7e19 last temptation - chicken bet

s8e2 transplant - house tries to win back wilson's affections

s8e14 love is blind - wilson, house, and house's mom shenanigans

s8e19 the c word - house takes care of wilson

s8e21 holding on - house is desperate for wilson to stay

s8e22 everybody dies - finale

[bleach-your-panties]

sexy prompts for inumaki! all characters aged 18+

"T-Toge...we shouldn't do this here...they could easily see us, even from down there!"

The white-haired male only breathed a warm sigh into the crook of your neck as he helped you balance your leg up on the windowsill.

While Maki, Yuta, and Panda trained in the courtyard down below, Toge was sliding his long cock between your creamy, wet folds.

Your left hand haphazardly gripped onto the material of his pants while your right arm laid wrapped around his neck.

His nose bumped against your cheek, his silent way of asking you if you wanted him to continue.

"Yes, but, please Toge, we need to be careful. Okay?"

Those last words were lost on his ears as he shifted and gripped you underneath your armpits.

He expertly aimed his cock up at your hole and allowed you to sink yourself onto it just as you'd done so many times before.

Your face swarmed with heat as Toge bounced you on him hurriedly - there was no telling who might come around the corner or down the hallway and see the two of you in this position, but that was the entire thrill of public sex, wasn't it?

Not to mention your friends who might idly decide to glance upwards and get an eyeful of Toge pounding you in front of the open window.

But Toge, the ever-observant boyfriend noticed your apprehension about being caught, so what did he do?

He folded you at the waist, never slipping out of you as he continued his relentless thrusts.

"T-Toge! Slow down!" Your hands gripped his legs now while your head hung upside down, giving you a perfect view of his balls slamming against your ass.

"Huh, did you guys hear something? It sounded like it came from the second floor." Panda pointed a clawed finger up towards the window, where Inumaki gave him a close-eyed smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh, never mind, it's just Inumaki."

Maki pushed the furry away and adjusted her glasses to gaze up at the window as well.

"Inumaki?! What are you doing up there? Your ass should be down here training with the rest of us! And where's Y/N?!"

She impatiently stalked off with her staff thrown over her shoulder, mumbling something about slackers. Yuta brushed a hand through his dark hair sighed, and followed after the green-haired woman with Panda in tow.

"I'm gonna cum, Toge..I...my head...getting dizzy..."

Next, you were pulled up and your back slammed up against the wall beside the window. Your shaky legs came up to wrap around your boyfriend's waist.

Toge continued to bounce you on him in this new position, relishing in the sound of your moans and the way your chest bounced in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your nails dug into his shoulders while your head lolled to one side. He wanted to laugh at you, but instead let out a loud grunt. His hips stuttered and he carefully lowered both of your bodies to the floor, dick pulsing and shooting his cum up against your walls that gripped him for dear life.

"Toge...you're a monster..." You huffed at him once you came down from your orgasm and he did laugh this time while holding up the "I love you" hand signal.

"I love you, too, you bitch."

----

sexy prompt list:

#21 - Fucking with the window wide open

💗💗🍡°tagging: @darkstarlight82 @eternalalmondd

[jetii]

Infinite Possibilities of the Universe

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader / Tech x Jedi!Reader

Words: 9,466

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, grief/death/mourning, brief description of anxiety attack/autistic meltdown, reader is referred to as Sarad

Summary: You fell on Kaller, and Tech is the only one who can't let you go. But he knows what the others don't: you're alive, and you're coming back to him. All he has to do is be patient.

A/N: This is sad right up until the end I'm sorry. Thank you @baddest-batchers for the prompt!

Dantooine’s sun shone down on the fields, glinting off of the armor and helmets of the Batch as they relaxed in the afternoon rays. Wrecker and Omega had run off a few hours ago to go find some animal or another, so it was just the boys and a few crates of spare parts that needed to be sorted and put away.

They were in no hurry, and so Hunter and Echo took up a spot by one of the few Blba trees around for miles and started going through the boxes, pulling out pieces that they could repair and reuse, setting aside what needed to be scrapped. It was mindless work, and so it wasn't long before they started up a game of saigok to pass the time.

Tech, as always, was holed up inside the Marauder. The rest of the squad could hear him tinkering around in there, and had learned to tune out the quiet sounds of clinking and clicking from inside.

This time, though, Echo heard the quiet murmur of his voice, and glanced over at Hunter.

The Sergeant was leaning back against the tree, arms folded and legs stretched out in front of him, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. He looked perfectly at peace, but Echo knew that he was very much aware of everything that was going on around him.

And yet he hadn’t said anything.

Echo frowned and turned to look over his shoulder, but all he could see was the open ramp of the Marauder, the top of which was hidden by a row of tall, green plants.

He turned back to his game with Hunter, trying to concentrate on the board and the pieces, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was amiss.

It didn't take him long to lose his second piece. Hunter, ever the tactician, didn't comment on it, and so the two played on, both lost in their own thoughts until Echo couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

"Do you think Tech's alright?"

Hunter opened his eyes, looking at Echo. His expression didn't change, but he sat up straighter. “I'm sure he's fine."

Echo wasn't convinced. "He's been up there for a while. I don't think I've ever seen him this quiet."

Hunter shrugged. "He's probably tinkering with his new project, the one he keeps in his bunk."

"But—“

"I can hear him talking," Hunter interrupted, closing his eyes again. "He's just not talking to us. You know he does that sometimes."

“That's not the point." Echo looked back over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Tech was doing. "Something doesn't feel right."

Hunter was quiet for a moment, and then let out a sigh. “He’s talking to her.”

"Who? Omega?"

"No."

Echo thought back over the past months. He'd overheard Tech muttering to himself several times, but it was never about a her, as far as he could tell. Then it hit him.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"But she's—“

"I know," Hunter said. He sighed again and shifted, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back against the trunk. “But that's how Tech copes. He talks to her. She's not gone, not for him."

Echo wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, and so he didn't. Instead, he got to his feet and headed over to the Marauder.

Inside the cockpit, he could see the back of Tech's head as he sat in the pilot's seat. The door was open, and so Echo didn't feel the need to announce his presence. He walked down the hall, listening closely.

"—and the power converters in the shield generators have been giving me trouble lately. I'll need to do a more thorough investigation soon."

Echo ducked next to the wall of the cockpit, listening. Tech was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little softer.

"You would love this planet, Sarad. There are hundreds of new species of creatures and flora to document. It's very beautiful here. You would enjoy the sunshine."

Echo felt a sharp pain in his chest. It wasn't just his mechanical parts, though those often ached with phantom pains, especially when it rained. This pain was different, and it made him pause. Your loss had hit them all hard, and even now, months later, he could feel the lingering effects.

Tech had taken it the hardest. Your relationship hadn't been a secret, and he'd spent nearly every waking hour with you when he could. And then...

Don't, he told himself, pushing the memories away. Just don't.

But he couldn't stop himself from looking up, his gaze landing on the little shelf that hung above Tech's bunk. On it among the scattered parts and tools sat a little model ship, a small clay flower, and a holo-pic.

It was a photo of the six of them, back on Coruscant, when things had been simpler. You were sitting on a crate, legs crossed, hands on your knees, a grin on your face. The others were gathered around you, and you couldn't tell by their smiles how much you had begged and pleaded with them to sit still for five minutes.

"What's the point of taking a holo-pic if we aren't going to smile?"

"A holo-pic isn't worth the hassle."

"Come on, it'll be fun! Tech, come here. I want you to be in it, too."

"But I'm busy."

"Please? For me?"

"...Very well."

Tech wasn't even looking at the camera, he was too busy watching you.

You had noticed, and you had reached over and gently nudged his arm, and the holo-pic captured the moment perfectly.

After the click of the camera you had jumped to your feet, excitedly showing off your own copy. Tech had tried to act indifferent, but Echo had noticed him looking at it often, and more than once had caught him smiling softly as he did so.

It had been Omega who suggested that the photo be added to the little shelf, despite never knowing you. And after a little persuasion from the rest of the crew, Tech had finally relented.

And now the picture was tucked into a frame next to the little clay flower you had made, the ship hanging above it. They were the only two things on the shelf that didn't belong to Tech, and they were the two things that Echo had never seen him without.

Echo hadn't thought much about it, but the memory was suddenly crystal clear. Tech, his arm around your waist, a soft smile on his face. The look in his gaze was unmistakable.

He loved you.

And now he was never going to see you again.

Echo looked away, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat. He didn't want to intrude any more than he already was, and so he retreated back down the ramp.

When he got back to the tree, Hunter had abandoned their game and was now sitting cross legged, elbows resting on his knees. He watched Echo approach and raised his eyebrows.

"Well?"

Echo sighed and sat down. "You were right."

"What did he say?"

Echo looked down, picking up a loose twig and turning it over in his hands. "Just...talking to her. About what they would do, if she was here."

Hunter didn't reply, and so Echo continued, "She'd like it here. It's peaceful. No wars."

He could feel Hunter's eyes on him, but kept his own eyes on the twig, running his thumb over the smooth bark.

"He's still waiting for her."

"I know."

Echo sighed. He hated not knowing what to do, especially when it came to Tech. "I wish he would talk to us about it. She's been gone for nearly four months. You'd think he would have let her go by now."

Hunter shook his head. "You and I both know that he's not going to let her go. Not as long as there's a chance she's still out there."

"But there isn't a chance," Echo pointed out, "He saw her fall, didn't he?"

"That's not what he believes."

"Why not?"

"You know why not," Hunter replied. "She was the only person who saw the galaxy the same way he did. They understood each other, and not in the way that we do."

"So what, we just let him go on thinking that she might still be out there? It's not good for him, you have to know that."

Hunter didn't respond right away.

"Tech knows what he's doing," he said finally. "If he wants our help, he'll ask for it. For now, we have to respect his boundaries. And that means no talking about her, not even in passing. If Tech wants to think that she's still out there, then that's what we have to let him believe. That's how he copes."

Echo wasn't thrilled, but he didn't want to go against Hunter's wishes, and so he stayed silent. He turned his attention back to the box of spare parts, and for a while the two of them worked in silence. But every once in a while, Echo would glance up at the Marauder and the tiny figure that was hunched over the navicomputer.

He knew that Hunter was right. There wasn't much that he could do to help. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

Tech stared at the datapad in his hand, but his mind wasn't really on the screen. Instead, his thoughts were turned towards the planet outside and the sun-soaked fields that he had left his brothers in. He knew that it was a beautiful day, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and go out there.

Not while Sarad wasn't with him.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the datapad, knuckles turning white. A sudden surge of anger coursed through him, and he wanted nothing more than to hurl the datapad across the cockpit, but he managed to reign it in and set the device down on the console, his grip still tight.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much, having to spend this day alone. The anniversary of your first meeting had never seemed like a big deal to him before. Of course, that was because you had been there. Now, though, with nothing but empty space between him and the rest of the galaxy, he had never felt so isolated.

He had been trying to distract himself, but none of his usual tinkering projects could hold his attention. Nothing seemed to be able to block out the emptiness, and his anger.

Tech had never liked anger. It was messy, unorganized, and dangerous. It had been a long time since he had last felt the full force of his anger, but now it was back, and it was worse than before.

Because, unlike before, his anger was mixed with grief.

You had talked about it once, when you were lying in his bunk, curled up against each other, your head tucked against his neck, fingers tracing absent patterns over his chest.

"What would you do, if something happened to me?"

He had frowned, not understanding why you would ask him such a thing. "Nothing will happen to you."

"Just pretend," you'd insisted. "If I were gone, what would you do?"

He had tried to imagine it, and the thought had sent a chill down his spine. He had never felt that way about someone before, and the thought of losing you was too terrible to even consider.

"I'd find you," he'd said.

"But what if you couldn't?"

"That is not possible. There is no place that you could go that I would not follow. Even if we were separated by the entire galaxy, I would still find a way."

"Tech, come on. Pretend with me. If you couldn't find me, and you thought I was gone, what would you do?"

He had considered your words for a moment, then answered, "I would keep looking. You wouldn't leave me. Not without telling me first."

You had lifted your head, a small, sad smile on your lips. "How do you know that?"

"I just do."

The look in your eyes was indecipherable. "You can't know that. There are no guarantees, Tech. If I'm gone, then I'm gone. I'm part of the living Force, and eventually I'll return. You can't stay stuck on me. You'll have to move on, one way or another."

He hadn't liked that idea. He couldn't even fathom the possibility of her being gone.

"No."

"Tech..."

"No," he'd said, more firmly this time. "You wouldn't leave. You wouldn't. And I will always find you."

Your eyes were shining, and he didn't understand.

"Why are you talking about this?" he'd asked. "There's no reason for you to leave. You'll stay with us."

"You don't know that. There's a war, Tech, anything could happen."

"No."

"But—"

"We are not talking about this anymore." He'd said, cutting you off. He couldn't bear to think about it, and he was beginning to feel uneasy. You were the first person who had ever cared about him, and the idea of losing you was unfathomable.

"But—"

"Stop," he'd said, more harshly than he'd meant to.

You'd stopped, staring at him. Then, slowly, your head had lowered, and you'd pressed your face against his neck again.

"I'm sorry," you'd said quietly.

"It's alright," he'd replied, feeling bad about the way he had snapped at you. He hadn't meant to get angry, but the thought of losing you was terrifying. He needed you.

You'd pulled yourself closer, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as tightly as you could. He'd hugged you back, and the two of you had laid there together, and eventually, you had fallen asleep. 

Tech lied awake that night, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine what it would be like if you were gone.

He hadn't been able to do it.

And yet, here he was, barely keeping a tight grip on his emotions, the ache in his chest threatening to consume him.

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

Tech had always tried to accept things as they were. It was easier, and he had never found it worth the effort to question his reality. Sarad, though, had been different.

Sarad had never accepted the world as it was. You had never allowed yourself to settle for things that were. And so you had changed everything, just by being there. But now you were gone. And so the galaxy, and his life, had returned to its previous state.

Tech's eyes burned, but he was able to keep the tears at bay. It was the same way that he had done every day since you fall.

It isn't fair, he thought again. It isn't fair.

If only you were here, Sarad. You could fix this. You could fix anything.

His thoughts drifted back to his brothers, who were undoubtedly wondering what was wrong with him. He knew that they had questions, but they would never ask him. They had an unspoken agreement to never talk about you, and while he appreciated their respect, he couldn't help but wish that they would break it, just this once.

Then maybe he wouldn't have to sit here alone, the cockpit cold and dark around him, as he tried to keep his anger under control.

Sarad would have known what to do.

A memory surfaced, and for the first time in months, he let it come.

It had been early in the morning, and they had been on an unknown planet, waiting for a storm to pass before they could leave. They had all been asleep, except for Sarad, who had decided to go outside to get some air. You had asked him if he wanted to come with you, and so the two of you had stepped outside into the cool darkness.

The storm clouds had blocked out the stars and the moonlight, and it was pitch black outside. You had held onto his arm, and he had kept a hand on the blaster at his hip, as neither of them could see more than a few feet in front of them. And when you were far enough away from camp, you stopped.

"Isn't it amazing?"

Tech had looked at you. "What is?"

"The universe," you said, staring up at the sky. "All the planets, and the stars, and the endless possibilities."

"It's certainly a vast place," Tech had replied, "but what exactly makes it amazing?"

"The fact that it exists."

"Many things exist. Most people wouldn't find that particularly exciting."

"True," you had said. "But it's different when it comes to the universe."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I suppose I could compare it to an individual," you had mused, "If you had lived your whole life knowing only the inside of one small house, and then suddenly you found out that there was a whole galaxy beyond it, wouldn't you be excited to see the stars?"

"I would be curious, yes."

"I feel the same way, but with the universe. Every time I look up at the stars, I know that there are millions of other planets, with thousands of other species. The sheer chance of a person like me existing in a place like this is astounding. So many things have had to go just right, and even then, the probability of my being here, now, is almost infinitesimal."

"The chances of a life such as ours are incredibly slim," Tech had agreed.

"I think that's what makes it special."

"What do you mean?"

"The universe is infinite," you had explained, "So the chances of my ever meeting someone from another part of the galaxy are infinitesimally small. But because the universe is infinite, that means that there are an infinite number of possibilities. And so there's a possibility that we could meet, that we could work together. The chances are so slim that they're practically nonexistent, but the possibilities are infinite."

"I don't know that I would have ever thought about it that way."

"Well, then, maybe we could explore the infinite possibilities of the universe together," you had suggested with a shrug of your shoulder. "It'll be fun. Just the two of us."

"And what if our infinite possibilities are limited to the confines of a single ship?"

"That would be fine," you had told him, smiling. "As long as we're together, then it doesn't matter where we go."

The memory ended there, and Tech blinked, realizing that his vision was blurry. A single tear had escaped his control, and he reached up and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

He missed you.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many words that had never been said. There was so much that you had left unfinished, so many plans and ideas that you had yet to accomplish, and now he feared it was too late.

Tech turned his focus back to his datapad, scrolling through the files. He stopped on one in particular, and for a moment, just looked at it.

Then he hit play.

It was a video, recorded shortly after his brothers had left you alone for the night. He hadn't been sure why he had made it at the time, but looking back now, he could see the reason. He had wanted to remember you.

The video began to play, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched you, bathed in the pale light of the computer, eyes shining as you spoke. You looked at the camera, and for a moment, Tech felt as though you were looking straight at him.

He couldn't hear the words, not anymore. But he knew them by heart, and so his mouth moved silently as he watched the recording, committing every moment, every gesture, every expression to memory.

“What are you doing?” Sarad asked, looking at the camera.

Tech had shifted, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"Just...recording."

"Recording what?"

"This," he had answered, gesturing around him. It hadn’t been a very good answer, and you had laughed.

"Why?"

"To...to document our trip."

"That sounds very scientific."

"It is."

"Well, I don't really understand," you had replied, "But I suppose you could always explain it to me later."

"I'll have to. I'm sure you'll have plenty of questions."

"Then you'll have to tell me everything," you had said. "And don't leave anything out. I want to know every detail."

"That will take quite a while."

"Then we'll just have to spend a lot of time together."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Perhaps," you had replied. Then, smiling, "Yes, I suppose it is. I would like to spend a lot of time with you, Tech."

"Then perhaps I will tell you," he had said.

You had smiled, and he had smiled back.

"I look forward to it."

When the video ended, he started it again, watching the familiar image, memorizing the way your hands moved and the curve of your smile and the brightness of your eyes. He watched it until his eyes burned, and then he watched it once more.

And when the pain became too much, and the anger rose up and threatened to overwhelm him, he played it again, and again, and again.

And eventually, the pain subsided, and the anger was pushed aside, and all he felt was you.

"I look forward to it," the recording said.

"I do, too," Tech murmured.

“You’ll have to tell me everything.”

"Then we'll just have to spend a lot of time together."

He could see the love in your eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t even considered the possibility. But looking back now, the memory of your love was so clear, and it took his breath away.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I would like to spend a lot of time with you, Tech."

He watched the video once more, and when it was over, he closed the tab and stared at his reflection in the blank screen.

He could still feel the anger, but it had lessened, and was no longer directed at the universe. It was, instead, aimed at himself.

You should have known, he thought, his fingers tightening around the edges of the datapad. You should have seen the signs. You should have said something.

It isn’t a logical thought. He couldn’t have known what would happen on Kaller and everything that followed, and he had had no reason to believe that anything would change.

And yet, his mind was convinced that he had missed something, that he could have prevented you from ever leaving his side.

It isn't logical, but he still feels it.

Slowly, his grip on the datapad eased, and he turned his attention back to his reflection. He saw his eyes were rimmed with red, and his hair was tousled from where he had run his hands through it.

Sarad would have liked that.

You would have teased him for his messy hair, and then you would have smoothed it out and laughed. You would have been the only person he would have let do something like that.

His hands were shaking, and he took a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax.

It will pass, he told himself. It will pass. I will see her again. It will pass.

He repeated the phrase over and over in his mind, letting the words fill him and block out the anger. He had lost you, but you weren't gone. Not forever. 

There, buried in the scores of data files and programs that made up his datapad, was the last message he received from you. Dated nearly three months ago, it was heavily encrypted, and he’d required a cypher to unlock it.

Inside, there was a simple message:

"I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad."

Tech had spent the first month after Kaller trying to decipher the message. It had taken him days, but when he finally figured it out, the words had been like a lifeline. There were no coordinates, and no indication of where you had gone. All Tech had was your promise, and his belief that you would always keep your word. He knew that the message was a risk, but you had known that he would never stop looking, and so you had sent him something to hold on to, and it had been enough.

He had held onto your words since, keeping them close to his heart. He had read the message hundreds of times, and had never gotten tired of it. And whenever he felt lost, or alone, or angry, he would read it once more, and allow the words to guide him back.

They were a promise, and so he would wait.

He would wait, and when you came back to him, he would be ready. He would never let you go. 

Then, as the sun began to set outside, he put the datapad aside and looked up. Outside the window, the stars were beginning to appear. And, he thought, if his infinite possibilities were limited to the confines of a single ship, then he would spend the rest of his life traveling with you.

And so he turned the lights off and sat in the dark, the stars reflecting in his goggles as he gazed out at the galaxy.

And he waited.

Tech waited until the others had fallen asleep before settling into the cockpit. He didn't want any distractions, just as he didn’t want his brothers to worry. They would, though, even without him saying a word. They were good at that.

He didn’t mind, though. He only wished he could tell them the truth. But it wasn’t his secret to share. They wouldn’t believe him anyway, he knew, and so it was better this way.

So, when the lights were out and the engines had quieted, he slipped away from the bunks and down the hall, taking his place at the pilot's seat.

He sat down and leaned back, getting comfortable before he took out his datapad and typed in the code. A single message appeared on the screen, and Tech read it one more time, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad."

Satisfied, he closed the message and lifted his hand to the recording device on his goggles, and started a new file.

"Hello Sarad. Today, we logged a total of 17 hours in hyperspace, which brings our total log to 18,802 hours. The others have grown tired of counting, but I have continued the process. In fact, I believe we will be able to exceed 20,000 hours by the end of the year."

Tech paused, and then took a deep breath.

"There isn't much to report today, and so I have decided to share a few memories. First, I would like to remind you of the time we were stranded on Mygeeto, when we got lost in the mountains and spent three days trying to find our way back to the others."

Tech smiled, remembering the snow and the cold and the laughter. It was the first time the two of them had ever argued, but by the end of it, they were laughing so hard she could barely walk.

"I recall that I had told you several times to wear warmer clothing," he went on, "but you had insisted that the extra layers would hinder your movement. I am pleased to report that you eventually listened, although not until the second day, and the result was that you had to wear half of my gear and could hardly move without assistance."

He smiled at the memory, and then continued, detailing the various mishaps and misadventures of that mission. “You didn't mind, though, and you even thanked me. I have never heard anyone thank me for being right before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

He paused, and his voice grew quiet.

"You were the first to admit that you had been wrong, and the first to apologize. That was something else that I hadn't experienced before. Your apology was accepted, of course. I never held the incident against you, and I have never been able to be mad at you for more than a few minutes. That hasn't changed, either."

Tech sighed and adjusted his glasses.

"We're almost to our destination. The others are asleep, and the ship is quiet. I know you would enjoy the peace and quiet. There's no sound quite like the hum of the engines, and the silence of space."

He fell silent, thinking about what he wanted to say next. He took another breath, and his next words were spoken almost reverently.

"I miss you, Sarad. I hope you are well. I know that you will contact me when you are ready, and I am confident that it will be soon. But until then, I will keep the record, and I will share it with you when you return. For now, though, I will wait.

"I love you, Sarad. And I will see you soon."

And, his eyes fixed on the stars outside, he reached up and switched off the recording.

For a while, he just sat there, staring out the window at the stars. They blurred, and he blinked, the tears gathering on his eyelashes. He wiped them away, and then looked down at his hands. They were still shaking, and he curled them into fists, trying to stop the tremors.

Eventually, the shaking stopped, and Tech looked up at the stars again. He didn't know why he was shaking, or why his hands were sweating, or why his throat felt so tight.

Perhaps it is because I am afraid, he thought.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was true.

He was afraid, because he didn't know when, or even if, you would contact him again. He didn't know if he would see you again. And even if he did, he didn't know what would happen.

So many questions, and so few answers.

He was used to working with facts, but he was finding that this situation was lacking. And that meant that he didn't know what would happen.

It was frightening, the not knowing.

Tech was used to being in control. It was his job, as the technician and navigator of the team. He had to know how to fix things, and when to do it, and where. But he had no control over you, and no control over the galaxy, and no control over the future.

And that scared him.

But then, suddenly, he remembered something you had said to him, long ago, on a different planet and a different day.

You'd asked him about a strange phenomena occurring on the horizon, and he had floundered in his answer. The best he could ascertain, it was some sort of magnetic field, caused by a large mass of rock below the surface. He hadn’t been certain, and it had bothered him.

He had been frustrated, but you had only smiled and placed a hand on his arm.

"That's okay," you'd told him. "It doesn't have to have an explanation. It can just be. If we try to figure out the cause of everything, we won't have time to enjoy it.”

He had tried to argue, but had eventually given in.

"Besides," you'd added, "I'd rather spend time with you, and not on finding the answer.”

Your words had surprised him, and for a moment, he hadn’t been able to respond.

"You...want to spend time with me?"

"Of course I do," you had replied.

"But...why?"

"Because I love you."

He'd been speechless.

"Oh," he'd said.

You'd laughed, and he had been able to do nothing but stand there and stare at you.

"I'm sorry," you had said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no," he had managed. "It's...I'm fine. Just...you..."

"Love you?"

"Yes."

"I do."

"Oh."

Tech had had no idea how to respond. The words didn't seem real. But when you had smiled, and reached for his hand, he had finally begun to understand.

"I'm sorry," you had apologized again. "I've wanted to say that for a while, but I wasn't sure how. I thought that you would find it odd."

“You are odd, yes," he had agreed, "but not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I find you to be odd in a pleasant way," he had explained. "You're...different. In a good way."

"That's very poetic, coming from you."

"I was not being poetic," he had corrected you. "I was simply stating the truth."

Sarad had laughed again. "So what is it, then?"

"You are unique," he had told you. "There is no one else like you. You are an anomaly, and a rare one at that. I am glad to have met you."

You had been quiet for a moment.

"I'm glad, too," you had said.

And then you had kissed him, and he had felt something new and exciting and wonderful.

"I love you," you had murmured.

He had been unable to say the words back, but he had known that he would say them one day. And, after that, every day.

And so he had kissed you, and the two of you had watched the lightshow together, and it had been perfect.

Tech looked up at the stars now, remembering the way the sky had glowed, and the warmth of your hand on his arm.

That was where his memory ended. But the words came back to him, and he found himself repeating them.

"I love you," he whispered.

The words seemed small and insignificant compared to the vastness of space, and the galaxy, and all the planets and stars beyond. But they were real, and they were true, and that was all that mattered.

They were real, and so were you.

And the not knowing was terrifying, but Tech was patient. He would wait, and he would see you again. And the words would mean more then, because he would be able to say them, and you would hear them, and everything would be alright.

Tech believed in the infinite possibilities of the universe, and this was his.

This was his, and so he would wait, and he would remember, and he would know that the words were true, and someday, he would say them to you again.

Every day, Tech waited for a signal.

And every day, there was nothing.

His patience began to wane, and every time the Marauder made a stop, he would search the area for a sign, a clue, anything that would lead him to you. But he never found anything, and he would have to go back to the ship empty-handed.

His recordings to you were becoming short, and less frequent. He couldn't hide the bitterness and disappointment from his voice, and so he recorded fewer messages.

He didn't know why you hadn't contacted him. Maybe it was because you didn't want to.

But no. You loved him.

He didn't want to consider the alternative.

You loved him. You wouldn't have left him.

Would you?

He didn't know, and that scared him.

What if you didn't want to see him? What if you had found someone else?

What if you had realized that you were better off without him?

No.

You loved him. You would never leave him. Not forever.

And yet, he was beginning to wonder.

What if it had been a mistake? What if he had been wrong, and you weren't safe, or alive?

No.

You were alive. You had to be.

And yet, as the days wore on, he found himself doubting.

The distance between them was supposed to keep her safe, but maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe something had happened. Maybe you had changed your mind.

He tried to reassure himself. You were a capable Jedi, and if anyone could handle themselves in the face of danger, it was you.

But the longer you were gone, the harder it was to convince himself that you were still alive.

It didn't help that he hadn't received a single message since that first one. He'd had no word, no hint of your location, or condition, or state of mind.

It was frustrating, and he hated it.

He hated the waiting, and the uncertainty.

And so, as the months went by, and the number of his messages began to dwindle, his doubt grew. Much had changed in his life in the last months. They’d stopped fighting, stopped running, and had moved on to a new place to call home.

They had moved on, and so had he.

Well, most of him.

Some part of him was still waiting, and some part of him was still looking for a sign, for a message, for anything that would let him know that you were alive.

And, as the months went by, he realized that this wasn't going to change.

So he recorded one final message.

"Hello, Sarad. I know that this will be the last recording I make, as I am unsure when, or if, you will ever return. But I want to assure you that I am doing well, and so are my brothers.

"We are settled on a planet called Pabu, and we are all enjoying the peace and quiet. I know that you would enjoy the atmosphere here, as well. The sunsets are particularly beautiful, and I can't help but wonder if you have seen any yourself."

He paused, his throat constricting slightly.

"I miss you," he said quietly. "But I hope that you are happy, wherever you are. I know that it isn't fair of me to ask, and I don't expect an answer, but I do wish you would tell me.

"Tell me if you are safe. Tell me if you are well. Tell me if you have forgotten me. Please, Sarad, just tell me something. Anything."

He was quiet for a moment, and then shook his head.

"But you won't answer, will you? And you won't tell me. And so I will have to move on. It is the logical thing to do, and I am certain that it will benefit me greatly."

Tech fell silent again. His throat felt dry, and his eyes were burning. He didn't know why, but it was getting hard to breathe.

"I want to apologize," he continued, "for being so impatient. And I want to tell you that I don't blame you, and that I still care for you, and that I understand if you have chosen to forget me. But I want to thank you for the time we spent together. It was an experience unlike any other, and I am grateful for it. I will not forget you, Sarad. I hope that you will not forget me."

Tech's hands were trembling, and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"I hope you are well. And, if we never meet again, I wish you luck. I wish you happiness. And, most of all, I wish you peace."

Tech paused, and then, in a small voice, added:

"I love you."

The last message uploaded to his datapad, and Tech stared down at the file, his heart aching. He could feel the tears beginning to fall, and he wiped them away angrily.

Why was he crying? There was no reason to.

But still, the tears continued, and Tech let them come. He would cry for Sarad, and for the life that he would never have with you. He would cry for the love that he had lost, and the pain that he had endured, and the hope that had slowly died inside him.

And, when his tears were spent, he would close the file, and he would put his emotions aside, and he would move on.

He would have to.

Because that was the logical thing to do.

Tech looked up, and the stars were blurred by the tears. He blinked, and the image cleared.

He would have to move on.

He would have to, but not yet.

His finger hovered over the message, and then he pressed delete.

The file disappeared, and Tech watched the screen for a moment, the only sound the beating of his own heart.

He would have to move on, but not yet.

Not tonight.

Not while the sky was so full of stars. Not while the night was so quiet, and the wind so gentle, and the grass so soft beneath his feet.

Not while the memories were so clear.

Tech leaned back against the cool metal of the ship, his eyes fixed on the stars, and he let his thoughts drift.

He remembered the way you had looked at him, and the way you had touched him, and the way you had loved him. He remembered the way your hair had shone in the starlight, and the way your hands had felt against his skin. He remembered the way your lips had tasted, and the way your arms had held him, and the way your laughter had sounded, so sweet and joyful and free.

And he remembered the way the moonlight had danced across your features, and the way the breeze had ruffled your hair, and the way your smile had made him feel alive.

Tech closed his eyes, and let the memories wash over him.

And for a moment, just one brief, shining moment, the darkness was filled with starlight.

The day started like any other.

Tech woke up at the same time, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen, where Hunter was already making breakfast. He sat down at the table, and began scrolling through the daily news on his datapad, searching for anything of interest.

"Anything interesting happen yesterday?" Hunter asked, placing a plate of food in front of him.

"Not much," Tech replied, taking a bite of his breakfast. "A few minor scuffles, and a large cargo transport crash. It seems that the pilot was intoxicated, and he managed to take out half a block."

"Sounds fun," Hunter replied dryly. "Anything else?"

"Just the usual," Tech replied.

Hunter hummed in acknowledgement, and then asked, "How about last night? Did you stay up late recording more of those messages?"

Tech hesitated. He hadn't told Hunter about the messages, or any of his brothers. He assumed they knew, but they couldn’t know their purpose, and so he had kept the messages private.

"Yes," he finally answered. "I did."

"How many do you have now?"

"A few," Tech answered, his tone noncommittal.

"How many is a few?"

"Several."

"Dozens?"

"Yes." He twisted his mouth. “Hundreds.”

"Have you ever thought about sharing them?"

"No," Tech answered immediately.

"Why not?"

"Because they're private," Tech replied, his voice a little sharper than intended. “Because they're for her, and only her."

Hunter sighed, and Tech could feel the disappointment in the sound. He knew that his brother didn't understand his actions, but Tech didn't need him to. He knew what he was doing.

"You're still waiting, then."

"Yes."

"Tech, it's been over a year," Hunter said quietly. "She's gone."

"She's not gone," Tech replied, his grip on his fork tightening.

"Tech," Hunter repeated, his voice firmer.

His fork clattered against the plate, and Tech pushed his chair back, standing up.

"She's not dead," he snapped, his hand curling into a fist. "She's alive. She has to be."

"Tech, please," Hunter pleaded. "Don't go. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Tech shot back. "And I don't need you to tell me what to do. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a message to record."

He rounded the table, brushing past his brother. But as he did, Hunter reached out and caught his arm. Tech glared at him, but Hunter didn't flinch. He just looked at him, and Tech felt his anger falter.

"Vod," Hunter said, his voice low. "Please. She's not coming back. And these recordings are just going to make things worse. "I know it's hard, but you have to let her go."

"I will," Tech replied. "But not today."

"Tech..."

"No," Tech cut him off. He pulled his arm from Hunter's grip and straightened his shoulders. "I won't do it."

"Tech, please," Hunter said. "I just want you to be happy."

"I will," Tech replied, his voice tight. "But not today."

"Alright, Tech." Hunter sighed and stepped back, his hand falling to his side. "Alright. Not today."

"Thank you," he managed. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I will see you at dinner, I assume."

"Of course," Hunter replied, his voice equally quiet.

Tech left the kitchen and made his way back to his room, ignoring the stares of Wrecker and Omega as he passed. He was sure they would ask Hunter about his outburst, and he was sure that Hunter would tell them. He didn't care. Let them talk. They didn't know anything.

He knew that they thought he was delusional. That he was clinging to false hope. That he was denying reality. And maybe they were right. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't just give up. Not when there was a chance, no matter how small, that he would see you again. And until that chance was gone, he would continue to wait.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Tech dropped onto his bed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His leg bounced restlessly at his side, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

It was too loud, too bright, too much.

He needed to calm down. He needed to focus.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on his breathing, on the sound of his heartbeat, on the feeling of the sheets beneath his fingers. You had helped him practice this exercise before, and he could remember the way you had guided him, your voice soft and gentle as you sat next to him on the floor of the cockpit.

Tech inhaled deeply, and then exhaled, slowly, letting his breath out in a long, steady stream. The sound of his breathing filled the room, and he felt himself relax. He continued the exercise, repeating the motions until his heart rate had slowed, and his breathing had evened out

He could still feel the anger, but it was lessening. He could still hear the voices of his brothers, but they were becoming muffled. He could still see the sunlight filtering through the window, but the glare was beginning to fade.

He breathed, and the world around him settled. He felt drained, and he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He was supposed to see you again. You were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be safe.

You weren't supposed to be gone.

Tech didn't move for a long time, and when he finally did, it was only to get up and check his datapad. He had no new messages, and so he placed it on the nightstand and turned away.

The day dragged on, and Tech did his best to keep himself occupied. He tinkered with his new projects, cleaned the kitchen, and reorganized his storage of supplies. He didn’t speak at dinner, and no one commented. By the time evening rolled around, he was exhausted, and he found himself back in his room, alone with his thoughts.

He didn't know what to do, and so he sat on his bed, the datapad in his hands, and waited.

The day had been uneventful, and the hours had passed slowly. The sun had set, and the stars had come out, and still, he had no answers.

It was late now, and he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. Not with the anger and frustration and hurt gnawing at his heart.

He didn't know why he was feeling this way, and it only made him angrier.

He wanted answers, but there were none.

There were no messages, no clues, no sign of you.

Just the stars, and the darkness, and the silence.

Tech sighed, and placed the datapad on the nightstand once more. He resigned himself to another sleepless night, and was about to turn out his light when a hard knock pounded on his door.

Tech jolted upright, his heart leaping in his chest. He hadn't expected anyone, and for a moment, he could only sit there, his mind racing.

The door swung open, and Wrecker came barreling in. The force of the door hitting the wall sent a shower of dust raining down from the ceiling, and Tech held his breath as he saw Sarad's clay flower teeter on its perch.

"Tech!" Wrecker bellowed.

"Wrecker, keep it down," Tech hissed, leaping forward to steady the flower. "The others are asleep."

“You need to come outside. Now."

"What?" Tech turned, the flower in his hands. "Why?"

"Just come," Wrecker replied.

"Fine," Tech sighed, carefully placing the flower back on the shelf. As soon as it was back in its place, Wrecker wrapped a hand around his arm and dragged him from the room.

"Wrecker," Tech protested. "Let me go."

"Sorry, can't do that," Wrecker replied, practically shoving him down the hall.

They were nearly at the front door when Hunter and Omega appeared, their eyes wide and hair messy.

"What's going on?" Tech asked, trying and failing to pry his brother's hand off his arm.

"Echo just landed," Hunter replied. "He says there's something we need to see."

Tech’s brow furrowed in confusion. They hadn’t been expecting Echo to return for several weeks, and he had no idea what could be so urgent.

"What is it?"

"He wouldn't say," Hunter replied. "But he sounded pretty shaken."

Tech felt a twinge of worry. Echo wasn't the type to overreact, and if he was acting strangely, there was probably a good reason.

"Then we should hurry," Tech said, his voice tense.

"Right," Hunter replied. "Come on."

They followed Hunter out the door, and up the path that led to the landing pad. They didn't speak, and Tech was glad. He didn't think he would be able to carry a conversation right now. The village was dark, and the streets were empty. The only sound was the echo of their footsteps as they hurried along.

Finally, they reached the landing pad, and Tech saw the outline of the Remora in the distance, its lights glowing softly.

As they approached, Echo strode down the ramp, his face drawn and pale.

"Hey," Hunter said, his voice worried. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Echo replied, his voice shaky. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Echo said, his voice trembling slightly. "But I think you should see this."

He gestured to the ship, and Tech and his brothers stepped forward, following Echo up the ramp.

The inside of the Remora was dimly lit, and Tech squinted, trying to make out the details. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that there was someone sitting in the navigator's chair.

"Echo, what—“

His question died in his throat as the figure turned around, and Tech felt the world tilt beneath his feet.

It was you.

You were here.

You were alive.

Your name came out as a strangled cry, and he stumbled towards you, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear his brothers calling out behind him, their voices distant and muted. He barely registered their words, or their presence, or anything other than the sight of you in front of him.

You were real.

"Sarad," he breathed.

Your lips curled into a smile, and you reached out, your hand resting gently on his cheek. Your touch was warm, and soft, and familiar, and he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

"My love," you whispered, and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound of your voice to wash over him. It was music, and joy, and home, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

"Sarad," he murmured, leaning into your touch.

"I'm here," you replied softly. He felt the tears spilling over, and you wiped them away gently.

"You're here," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

"Tech." You said his name like a prayer, and he opened his eyes, gazing at you. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

He didn't reply. Instead, he closed the distance between you, and his arms were around you before he even realized what he was doing. He pulled you to him, his grip tightening as he felt the solid warmth of your body. You were here. You were real.

"You're here," he breathed, his voice muffled by your shoulder. "You're alive."

"Yes." Your voice shook, and your arms tightened around him. "I'm here. I'm alive."

He held you for a moment longer, and then drew back, his hands cupping your face. He studied your features, taking in the sight of you. You looked tired, but there was no mistaking the warmth and affection in your gaze.

“You changed your hair," he said, running a hand through the short strands. The words came out hoarse and broken, and he swallowed thickly, trying to regain control.

"Yeah," you murmured, your fingers curling around his wrist.

"It suits you," he said. He was having a hard time forming complete sentences. He wanted to say so many things, but the words were stuck in his throat.

You laughed, the sound weak and breathless, but it was a laugh, and Tech found himself smiling.

"Tech, I'm sorry," you said, your voice shaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to contact you. I couldn't—“

"It's alright," Tech said, his voice quiet. "It's okay. You're here now."

"I missed you," you said, tears welling in your eyes.

"I missed you too," he replied, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “I can't believe you're here. I didn't think—"

He broke off, his voice faltering.

"You're really here," he whispered.

"Yes," you replied, your hand curling around his.

"I was so afraid," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I thought...I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm sorry," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't care," Tech said, his voice steadying. "I don't care about the past. All that matters is that you're here. You're alive. You're home."

"Home," you repeated, your eyes meeting his. "That sounds nice."

He kissed you then, and he felt your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. He poured every ounce of love and longing and joy into the kiss, and when you finally drew back, both of you were breathless.

"I love you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

"I didn't say it enough." Tech's voice was thick with emotion.

"That's okay," you said, a smile spreading across your lips. "I knew."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I should have said it. Every day."

"You can start now," you said, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"I love you," he breathed. "So much."

"I love you, too," you said, tears welling in your eyes.

Tech drew you into another kiss, and this one was softer, more tender. It was a promise, and a vow, and a declaration of love, and when he pulled back, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Your eyes were bright with tears, and your lips were trembling, but you were alive. You were here, and you were safe. And he loved you so much, it was like a physical ache.

"Don't cry," he murmured, brushing them away.

"I'm sorry," you laughed weakly. "I just can't believe it. I never thought...I'm just so happy. So, so happy."

"I am too," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "So happy. And I have so much to tell you. So much has happened. But...there is time for that later. For now, I just want to be here. With you."

"Yes," you whispered. "I'd like that."

You leaned in, resting your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. And, as you clung to him, and the tears began to fall, Tech couldn’t help but be grateful for the infinite possibilities of the universe, and the chance it had given him to be with you again.

Taglist: @covert1ntrovert @bruh-myguy-what @spicy-clones @arctrooper69 @qvnthesia @heidnspeak @Kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @baddest-batchers @cw80831 @lovelytech9902

[henneseyhoe]

What A Woman Wants; Taste

Trevante Rhodes x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, Chiron an eater in this but when is he not, pussy slapping, slut shaming (kinda), fingering, dirty talk, drug use(just a luh weed) no actual PinV, !!Unedited!!.

SUMMARY: The beginning of various stories about the reader, her diary and her many favorites.

✮✮✮✮

Whore, slut, fast, hot, easy. What really is the definition of promiscuity? Maybe just a woman who sleeps around. Or someone who’s had many boyfriends and flings. Would she be a whore if she slept with a married man? What if she didn’t know? Would she still be a whore?

The word was as complex as sexual relations in itself, but in her mind, everyone was a whore. Everyone had whorish ways. Some people liked to be smacked on the ass when they fucked, some liked to be spat on, tied up, scratched, degraded, praised, and then some. So what was the problem that she got what she liked but from different people? Nothing, she thought.

She had men from one end to the other side of the pond. Short, tall, muscular, skinny, masculine, feminine, you name it. She’s seen dicks nearly the size of her forearm all over the globe. She kept track of the ones she liked in a diary and tossed the ones that were no fun.

One of her favorites who also happens to be an old classmate from college ate pussy like a starved man and only got up when she told him to, and that’s exactly how she liked her men; doing what she told them to do.

A blunt in hand and tattooed legs spread from one end of the bed to the other, he drank from her fountain, quenching his thirst as she gushed around his fingers. His other free hand softly caressed her bare pussy, fingertips dancing along her mound before they pressed against her aching clit.

Pulling his tongue from alongside his thrusting fingers, he looks down and admires the wet and dirty scene in front of him, the second pair of your lips shining like he had just applied baby oil to her.

“Pretty ass pussy”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Mhm. Looking like this and you expect me to keep my mouth off of you?”

She hums out a moan, her pretty toes curling at that.

“I missed you all month, you might be in this position for a while”

He smirked and pulls out of her, watching as her hole winked and shrunk back to it’s small size that once accommodated his thick fingers. Pulling the hood of her clit back, the pink button pops up from underneath, greeting him with a few twitches as her pussy clenched around nothing.

“Fuck, baby…”

She watched him with just as much affection, but his eyes were too fixed on her heat to glare back at her. Blowing cold air onto the bundle of nerves, he pulls a long moan from her and he smiles in return before taking four of his fingers a licking across the tips of them, his other hand still occupied with the hood of her clit as he did so.

He pumped fake a few times, lifting that hand to her pussy and making her flinch before his hand finally came down and spanked her sensitive clit, the woman nearly dropping the spliff in her hand as her chest rises, a shock of both pain and pleasure running through her core.

“Fuck!” She breathes, smoke exiting her mouth. She was quick to sit the drug down in an ashtray laid on the bed next to her, the man on his knees in front of her still laying smacks to her pussy until her legs were shaking and she was squirting all over herself. Swirls in her stomach and stars in her eyes, she almost thanked god that her ass was halfway off of the bed so her sheets didn’t get wet but she soon realized she celebrated too early, the large palm of his hand beginning to rub her entire pussy instead and replace the teasing strikes, all of the juices that were once just falling on the hardwood floor spraying on anything within ten inches of her. That included on herself too.

She couldn’t speak and tell him to let up off of her if she wanted to, her stomach felt like it caved in as she had yet to let go of her breath to continue receiving oxygen.

He opened his mouth and welcomed all that she gave onto his tongue, a smile also playing on his face. He loved it when it was messy, wet to the point where it could be considered soaked even. His goatee covered in pussy juice showed and proved that to be true, droplets of her dripping from his chin.

Even after she was finished he still went in and licked her up from her clit to the puckering rim of her asshole, fixated upon the idea to make her cum again if she’d let him.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ startin this thang off with some good ole pussy eatin, iktr!😼💀 hope yall enjoyed tho, i think imma really enjoy this lil series just cause it’s a bunch of random shorts and not an actual storyline 😭 like everything and everyone is connected still but it doesn’t matter until brought up lmao.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 3

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

CW: POV depiction of dissociation, medication administered without explicit consent, mineral water, slightly altered state of consciousness (debatable), Simon Riley's Canonically Large Body

You lose time. There’s nothing for it. Everything gets flat and distant. Every now and again, you gain lucidity and catch details. The thick pile of the carpet beneath your bare feet. The belt loop you have two fingers looped into, and the fact that there are so many loops and pockets for you to choose from. Being carried for a bit until you can be deposited into a vehicle. Someone gives you pills, maybe four of them, and it takes you two gulps of water to swallow them.

An indeterminate amount of time later, you start coming back to yourself in fits and starts. It’s not a surprise when your teeth start chattering, but it does suck. All at once, every single one of your muscles file a complaint about locking up for hours and then sleeping on the floor. The room around you goes from fuzzy to nothing but sharp and loud edges in a split second. And, of course, the dehydration headache. You squeeze your eyes shut.

Something cold and wet is pressed into your hand and then guided to your mouth - a bottle of water. Your nose scrunches. Why do Europeans like mineral water? It barely tastes like water. But you drink it because you’re so thirsty it hurts.

“Slowly,” a deep voice rumbles above you.

You almost choke when you look up. The man standing over you is Simon, not the skull-faced Ghost, except that he’s neither and both. Even having had video sessions with him before, you’d assumed that most of his bulk you had seen today had been gear. Like an owl. But no, he’s really just that tall and broad. The shape of his jaw is familiar, though, just like his heavy brows and the bump in the bridge of his nose.

Without thinking, you reach out and touch his left arm. You almost expect the faded tattoos to twist away from your fingertips. Instead, Simon turns his arm so you end up caressing the inside of his elbow, skin soft and delicate and warm.

“Eyes up, Bambi,” Simon rumbles.

When you try to snatch your hand back, he catches your wrist. His hand is large and hot, and you realize all of a sudden that you’ve touched each other for the first time. His fingers are thick and blunt, and his nails are unkempt. He has a hangnail on his middle finger and scars across his knuckles.

“Eyes up,” he rumbles, again, sounding amused.

Your heart races as your eyes follow the line of his arm, the way his shirt barely fits around his bicep. The curve of his pectoral and the way his chest expands as he breathes. Your gaze gets caught on hollow of his throat and again on the thickness of his neck and the shape of his jaw. But finally, you meet his eyes.

You’ve seen a man before, you’ve seen Simon before. With his shirt off, even! There’s no reason that just meeting his eyes should make you breathless. But you can’t help it, you stop breathing as he holds your gaze.

“’Ello, beautiful,” he purrs, his other hand coming up to envelop yours around the bottle of water. You’re not a small woman, but wow, your hand feels small in his grip. “C’n you sip slowly for me?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. He’s fucking huge. Maybe it’s the shock, but he’s all you can see in that moment. (Is it subspace? No, but it damn sure feels like it.) And he’s touching you, finally. Finally. That’s insane. He’s supposed to be across an entire ocean, but he’s here and he saved you and he’s touching you. You’d do anything he wants.

“Drink,” he reminds you, and his hand stops you from pouring the whole bottle over yourself in your haste to follow his command. “Slowly, Bambi, there’s a good girl. Slow sips, two at a time. C’n you do that?”

Yeah, you think, holding eye contact as you bring the bottle back to your mouth. The mineral taste shocks you back into your body, again. Again. You drank some of this before. Someone gave you pills. Your body should hurt a lot more than it does, shouldn’t it? A knot of worry starts between your shoulder blades. And then Simon’s hand slides up your arm, coming to rest against the side of your neck. His finger tips brush over the bumps of your spine and you realize. Oh. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

“Ibuprofen?” you ask, lowering the bottle.

He hums an affirming note. “Said your back was hurtin’, so I had the paramedics give you some.”

I love you, you think, not for the first time, but you’re sipping again so you can’t embarrass yourself by saying it.

Another voice makes you jump and almost spit your water. “Bambi, aye? Where'd'ye find this bonnie girl, LT?”

You’re clinging to Simon before you know you’re moving. One arm around his lower back, the other clinging to one of his tree-trunk thighs. You’d be more embarrassed about burying your face into his side if Simon hadn’t pivoted to put himself more between you and the rest of the room. The hand on the back of your neck gives you a gentle squeeze.

“’S not really your business, is it?” Simon answers. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, Soap.”

“’M just curious,” the man called Soap says. When you peek at him, he’s is at the table of what looks like a mid sized hotel suite. You recognize the mohawk, but now that you’re not as imminently panicked, you realize how blue Soap’s eyes are. He’s casually dressed, jeans and a brown tee shirt. Very different from when you last saw him.

“Aw,” he coos when he sees you looking. “There she is.”

You take in the room so that you don’t have to see him looking at you. You’re on a little armchair between a couch and a desk. There’s a hall to the right, which you assume leads to the entrance to the suite. Another door opens into a bedroom, where you can see white sheets.

“Leave ‘er, Soap,” another voice says, and then another man, Price, the Captain, comes through that doorway with his own bottle of water. You almost don’t recognize him without his hat. Did he have all of that facial hair before? He gives you a nod and half smile before addressing Simon. “Laswell says things’ve calmed down. We have to go confirm the report. Bambi’s free to go back to the hotel if she wants.”

“Not likely,” Simon scoffs before you can protest. “She can stay ‘ere.”

“She’ll need her stuff,” Price points out. “Want to send the boys to collect it?”

Three fingers tap the back of your neck. You’d always wondered if that signal that he’s taking a moment to think was just for kink scenes. It’s comforting to realize that maybe it isn’t. Simon is a man who stops to think, and maybe so is this Ghost.

“’Ll go get ‘em,” Simon says, after a minute. “Got some other things to grab while ‘m out.”

Out? “Out?”

He looks down at you with another squeeze to the back of your neck. “Out. Cap and I got to check in, ‘n I’ll get y’r stuff. Figured you’d prefer not to go back.”

“Don’t leave me.” The words are out before you can bite it back. You blanch and pull away from him. Well, you try, wrapping your arms around yourself instead of him, but he still has a hand cupping the base of your skull. “I mean- That’s- I know it’s your job. I can- I’ll be okay going back to my hotel. Or staying here? God, you probably have a lot to do, I should-”

“Drink,” Simon interrupts, putting the water bottle you’d lost track of back into your hand. “Finish this. Slow sips, two at a time. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, automatically, as you lift the bottle to your lips. “Slow, two sips at a time. All of it.”

“Good girl.” He folds down into a crouch in front of you. You take an extra sip in self defense, because wow that’s a lot of man. There’s a whole other, third person that you hadn’t been able to see around him, sitting at the table with Soap. But Simon’s staring into your eyes, so you can’t get more than an impression of the room around you before you’re caught in his orbit again. “Y’r staying here with me. ’M not takin’ you back to the other hotel. ‘M gonna get your stuff. You unpacked, yeah?”

You nod, looking down at your hands so you can concentrate on what he’s saying instead of the urge to kiss the the scars on his cheek.

“Don’t want anyone else going through your things,” he says. “So ‘m gonna get all ‘f it. ‘Nd then I’ll come back with food. Y’re gonna give me your keycard, finish the water, ‘n watch somethin’ easy on the TV while you do your stretches. Acknowledge.”

“Key card, water, TV and yoga,” you say, chancing a glance back at his face. Bad idea. You fumble the key card from your pocket, surprised you still have it, and hand it over. The way his eyes crinkle with his smile makes you want to slide down into the space between his thighs to hide from the rest of the world. “Acknowledged. But-” You chew your lip. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Soap ‘n Gaz’ll stay with you. You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to. Hold up four fingers and they’ll leave you alone. Show me.” His big hand rubs your knee when you comply. “This is the last thing ‘ve got to do for work. When I come back, it’s just me ‘n you. Green?”

“Super green.” Someone snorts a laugh, but you ignore it. “You’ll come back?”

“’M comin’ back. Don’t want to leave.” His hand slides up the outside of your thigh, until he’s gripping your hip. You’re dizzy with a sudden flush of warmth when he leans in to whisper. “The next time I have you in my arms, ‘m not letting go for a long time.”

Yep, you need the water. “TV and stretches,” you squeak. “Acknowledged.”

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles. He stands, glancing his lips against your forehead as he does. “Gonna give you a reward for bein’ so good today. Tell one of the boys what you want to eat, ‘ll bring it on the way back.”

[thecoolsquirrel]

The Little Mermaid AU w/Azul

A continuation (?) of this drawing! I drew them the same day-and @camrastuff predicting it JSANDJSA

omg i love this thankyou for thinking for me cause with every drawing for this au im like,,how much longer can I bs that i actually know what im doing JSNADJAS 💛💛

Other Drawings For This Au: Here

<3 Tags for Little Mermaid Au:

@a-very-werid-mirror @twistiraki @azulashengrottospiano @pianostarinwonderland @fjshii @cowboy-rowlet @femmefaeryboi @savanaclaw1996 @taruruchi @thehollowwriter @thefiasco-onyourblock @the-trinket-witch @@adorable-person @twistedcece @ukkipeach @lilyalone @g0ul666 @cecil-garlicbread @girl-nahh-two @amayan0

[the-californicationist]

Welcome to Cali's Blog!

So glad you're here!! ^_^ I am Cali, a fanfic writer (34, she/her, pansexual) who creates stories in the COD fandom and most of them are full of smut. Please use the nav links in my profile header to find my AO3, Kofi, and other external sites. I block blogs that contain racism, TERFism, homophobia, body-shaming, slut/kink-shaming, ableism, minors, and drama/flaming. Don't like it? I don't care! This is a safespace blog and it's good vibes only in here. <3

Masterlists

Cali’s Masterlist

Cali's Kinktober

Cali’s Nameless Challenge

Ask Status: OPEN

This entire blog is MDNI! No exceptions.

[rafedaddy01]

Warnings: public masterbation

#4

You and Rafe were out with some friends, clubbing. It was a rare occasion that Rafe danced, but when you showed up wearing a little black dress and all over him he couldn’t resist.

The music picked up and you squealed with drunk excitement as you grabbed Rafes wrist and dragged him onto the dance floor.

“Baby. Baby, you know I don’t dance” he groaned as you ignored him and continued dragging him onto the dance floor.

“One dance Rafe, please” you whined as you jumped up and down, your cleavage bouncing and enticing him further.

“Fine” he grumbled with a smirk as you giggled and kissed his cheek.

The beat picked up and so did your hips.

Gliding and grinding against Rafes crotch.

“Careful baby, the way your moving is doing things to me” Rafe leaned forward and whispered in your ear.

You smiled drunkly and wrapped his arms around your body as you continued moving.

“Oh you naughty girl, right here in public?” Rafes hot breath fanned along your neck as he pecked it teasingly. “In front of everybody?” He asked.

You let a little moan slip out as the bulge in his pants poked your clit.

You tried to pull away and drag him off to one of the private booths but he held onto you tighter. “No no no. You wanted to dance, finish what you started” he said sternly as his hands gripped your waist and held onto your body.

“Rafe… please” you wined as he moved his hips, gliding his erection over the wet patch that seeped onto your dress.

“Go ahead, take what you want”

You started moving your hips again, grinding down harder and you heard Rafes breath catch as you moved your hips in a circular motion over his covered tip.

“Fuck baby, does it turn you on to know anybody can figure out that your getting yourself off on my cock right here?”

“Y-yes” you said breathlessly as you continued moving your hips, so close to the desperate release you needed.

“Naughty naughty girl. I’m gonna have to punish you later” he pinched your hard nipples through your dress and that sent you into your release.

Your nails clawed into his arms as you tried to keep quiet, thankfully the music was loud enough to cover up your cry’s and it was dark enough for nobody to suspect you just came all over your boyfriends pants.

“Wait till we get home, gotta punish you for being so needy”

Taglist:

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing

[elliesbelle]

messed around and made an audio of ellie and joel’s conversation in chapter 13 of my “nobody compares to you” series!!

yes i made it extra, extra cheesy by adding the instrumental of the lizzy mcalpine song “where do i go” in the background, shut up

[totalswag]

all i want masterlist — rafe cameron series

all the information you need to know about this series ⤵

authors note i am so excited to write this rafe series for you guys!! i’ve had this idea in my head for awhile and thought writing a series about it would be fun. i plan on making a taglist for this series, if you're interested in being in this tag-list feel free to leave a comment. in this series everything is normal!!

paring rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader

summary Y/N Y/L/N is a regular kook that lives in the Outer Banks. One of the most pleasant person to encounter. Room lights up when you enter a room. Contrary to some kooks, you don't care whether side of the island people come from. Friends with the pogue's. You go through a lot struggles in your life where you shy's away from the world. Rafe Cameron, also known as Kook King. He has a huge reputation on the island; is cold, cocky, jerk face, asshole, and will say whatever he wants to get what he wants. Behind all that tuff-ness, he struggles with a lot of things too. On a random Friday night you meet for the first time and Rafe can’t seem to get you out of his head after your little encounter. He’s never met a girl like you before. Eventually, you learn a lot about the Cameron boy from your eyes.

warnings love, crying, kissing/making out, yelling, partying, cursing, explicit scenes, fighting, mentions of death, possible pregnancy?, addiction, mentions of drinking and other drug substances.

✰ chapter one

✰ chapter two

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

also also also tomura almost always eats food that you’ve eaten. like you have to eat it first then he’ll eat it. like you have to try it for him except its your own food he will not touch his plate unless you order him too😭😭

he goes “lemme have a bite” the moment your spoon makes contact with your lips, and when you do he nods, grunts. then asks for some more. and when you say no he’ll scoff, does he really have to do everything around here ?

so he grabs his own spoon and starts scooping up your food. “tomu—eat your own !” you scold, popping is hand and he immediately flies back like you’d punched him “what the hell was that for ?!” he grumbles. “eat your own. it’s the exact same as mine” you insist, huffing.

you’re obviously a little stupid cus of course it’s not the same. you ate yours, that’s the difference, and he wants yours. so he’ll get yours. so when you’re looking away he’ll sneakily steal bites of your food. but then he gets annoyed about sneaking around and just starts taking from your plate again, you can only sigh in frustration as he keeps munching away.

[sanasanakun]

One day I will write an entire piece on why Ranni's questline is a perfect example of a subtle, gothic, and chivalric romance story but one that still manages to be so blatantly in your face about both the Tarnished and Ranni's feelings for one another that you can't miss it. And yet, people still insist that it's platonic because Ranni isn't jumping into the Tarnished's arms and proclaiming her undying affection for them (even though she does say she loves them in her own quiet way with the fucking key but I digress) and it makes me fear that reading literacy is at an all-time low worldwide.

[grocerystorelist]

night, midnight, lose my mind – george daniel

a stranger lights your cigarette outside the club, setting something else in you aflame. what follows could burn you down with it. inspired by this from @toomuchracket <3

minors dni. dom/sub, lots of d word, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, breeding a bit (not sure where that came from) and way too much possessiveness for a hookup

wc: 3632 thank u @think0fmehigh for reading this over and finding me the 2nd pic!! ok enjoy everyone <3

You lean against the brick outside the club, cold biting through the back of your jacket. A few people are milling about and chatting, smoke clouding the air. Beside you is a man with buzzed bleached hair, jawline cutting through the chill of the night as he takes a drag from his cigarette. He stares down the street, seemingly fixated on something in the haze, and you bite the urge to shuffle closer to him, to ask him what’s on his mind. Rolling your ankle, you let out a content sigh as you slide down the wall, digging for the lighter in your pocket. After a few flicks, you frown. It’s not working. 

The man tilts his head down. “Hey,” he says. You look up. He nods his head towards the lighter in his hand, holding out a hand to help you up. “Need a light?” You accept it gratefully, hoisting yourself up. You fumble out the pack from your pocket, hanging one from your lips as you slide closer to him. He raises his eyebrow as he holds up the flame. It’s a challenge. Another step closer, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your cheek as you dip your head to touch your cigarette to the light. He smells like whiskey and his own cigarettes, and you slip under his outstretched arm to lean against him as you inhale the first lungful of peace.

The muscles of his arm flex around you, the quiet display of strength renewing the blush on your cheeks. The two of you smoke in silence, but you swear you can feel the burn of his gaze on your face as you look resolutely ahead, unwilling to betray just how hot you think he is. A huff of air ghosts over you, and you snap, bringing your head up, staring at his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” you breathe. A beat. He groans and snakes an arm around you, pulling you into his body, pink lips crashing into yours. He takes a step to cage you into the wall, a broad hand rising to cushion your head from the brick, to press you further into his embrace. He kisses hungrily, and you wind your arms around his neck as his other hand travels up your leg to grab your ass, pushing and hitching you up. Dizzy, you pull away to catch your breath, a string of spit stretching between you for a moment as you giggle, looking up and down the street to see if there are still others around.

He sets you down, a grin spreading across his face as he takes in just how disheveled you are from your brief kiss. You smooth your hair and tug your skirt down, wiping across your face to get the rest of the lipgloss he hasn’t kissed away.

“I could really use another cig right now,” you laugh, pulling your pack back out to grab one, winking as you motion for his lighter. You’ve barely exhaled the smoke before he’s kissing you again, tongue desperately searching for a taste of the tobacco in your mouth as his hand cups your jaw. It’s brief, but combined with the nicotine it sends you into a headrush, vision clouding over as his tongue swipes over yours.

He steps back and pockets the lighter with a smirk, crushing the end of your cigarette under his sneaker. “See you back in there, princess. I’m George, by the way. Let me know if you need another light.” The door shuts behind him. The bubbles in your chest grow until you spin around, dizzy from the feel of his arms around you, the press of his forearm slung around your neck. You want his hands pushing into the flesh of your throat, long fingers wrapped all the way around your fucking neck.

You tilt your head back against the wall, laughing at the absurdity of it. Coming back in, you text your friends, before you swipe open your phone’s camera to look at the state of your makeup. Lips ruined, but otherwise relatively intact. You wonder what you’d look like if you went home with him.

Back in the club, you find your friends dancing in the same spot you left them, and you drag them to a table to get them a round as you tell them what happened outside. You lean forward on your elbows on the sticky tables as your best friend bats your arm, the group of them looking around to try and spot him. He’s tall, but low light and music make it hard to focus on one face for longer than a second.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get his number,” drunkenly exclaims one of them, craning her neck to look into the dark corners of the club. You haven’t spotted him either since you came back inside, but you’re resolved to make the most of the night. 

“Come on,” you say, swiping more lipgloss on. “Let’s go dance.”

You get down to the old pop blasting through the speakers of the club, spinning around and round until you’re dizzy. Every time you spot someone ridiculously tall out of the corner of your eye, heat shoots between your legs, only to be met with a twinge of disappointment when you realize it’s not him. Your friends try to distract you, pulling you closer to dance with them, laughing and singing along as you move together.

“He was probably a boring lay anyways,” one of them shouts, shaking her head. You nod with assent, eyes wandering now to see if you can salvage this night. But before you can land on another target, you feel the heat of a hand on your hip, pulling you away from your friends to spin you around.

“Was worried you forgot about me, princess,” George breathes into your ear, hips moving in time with yours. “Thought you found someone else.” You grasp his shoulders and grind into him, rolling your hips into the growing bulge of his jeans.

“I’m all yours for tonight if you want me.” You can feel his smile against your forehead, lips stretching to press a kiss there. “But what is it you want, darling?” George asks, biceps flexing as he grabs your ass, the black fabric of your skirt bunching in his fist. You know he can feel the lace of your underwear beneath them, pink lace growing damper by the second the longer his hand remains that close to your aching core.

“Want everything,” you gasp into his mouth, finally kissing him again. He breaks away before you can tug him further into you. “Gonna give me a name, first?” George teases, intertwining your fingers together. You reply with a wince, internally cringing at your haste, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He starts to tug you in the direction of the door, hands practically encircling yours.

“Wait,” you shout over the music, gesturing behind you. “Let me tell my friends I’m leaving.” Weaving through the crowd with George in tow you spot your best friend looking utterly blissed out, dancing without a care in the world. Tapping on her arm, you blush as she does an almost comical double take, eyeing George up next to you. “We’re going,” you say, letting out a laugh as she blinks.

‘Have fun, darling,” she responds. “See you soon!” The two of you turn to go, and you’re turning on your location as George opens his rideshare app, swiping through it. You burst into the cool night, the quiet of the street making you even more aware of the rush in your ears as you look at him, stark features highlighted by the single lamppost illuminating the two of you.

“Mine or yours, sweetheart?” George asks, thumbing open the address bar. “I’m fifteen minutes away.” He stands patiently, a far cry from the intensity you just felt in the club. You can tell he wants you to feel safe – letting you go back to your flat even though it would be a much longer drive.

“Yours,” you insist. “Shorter drive.” The car pulls up almost immediately, sleek and black as you pile into the back. George puts his hand on your leg as the two of you wait, the heat in the back of the car almost so stifling you want to roll the window down. Every bump in the road has you clenching around nothing, wishing he would slide his hand just a little further up your thigh to relieve you.

Soon enough you’re at the front door of his flat, hands clasped as he unlocks the door, ushering you in and closing it behind you. The two of you pause for a moment before he has you up against the door, kissing along your neck.

“I want to mark this pretty throat up,” he groans, pausing in one spot to suck a red mark on your flesh, the line of his body pressing you hard into the door. You want to be utterly overwhelmed by him tonight, for him to take over your body and clear your mind until there’s only one thing it’s filled with.

“You can do anything you want.” You mewl as he gets a leg between your thighs, grinding against him, his denim against your lace as you rub your clit on his leg. He lets you take control for a moment, letting out a low laugh when you give up, frustrated that you’re not getting what you need.

“Let me take you to bed, princess.” He carries you to his room, licking up the salt on the side of your throat. The heat of his tongue sends shudders down your body, clit pulsing with need. The denim of his jeans juts out, and you grind your hips onto the rigid line of him, wet underwear sticking to you.

“Please, George, need you,” you whimper, head falling into the crook of his neck. He sets you down atop your sheets, kneeling between your legs as he guides your head to the pillow. His eyes are practically black, pupils expanded to drink in the sight of your heaving chest and the purple now littered across your neck. “Please, Daddy.”

That’s what gets him – he lets out a low moan as he palms himself over his jeans, broad knuckles and glinting silver rings groping the dark patch you left on him. “Say it again, princess.”

“Want your cock, Daddy.” You whine, damp hands fisting the sheets below you for any semblance of sanity, of stability. You feel like you’re on another plane of existence, hurtling somewhere where you’re reduced to a single pinpointed sensation between your thighs.

“Such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s cock to keep you happy?” George groans as he unzips his jeans, precum dotting his white briefs as he slips a hand below the elastic, lightly stroking as his other one comes up to rub light figures on your clit. You moan, hips jolting finally at the stimulation, and you realize he’s drawing letters across your folds. “R - G - E,” you catch, and he begins his attack anew on the bundle of nerves. “G - E - O - R - G - E.” His mouth remains slightly open, shiny and swollen pink lips betraying the pants he lets out as his eyes devour the sight of your puffy folds.

“Going to be a good girl and take my fingers, yeah?” You sob as his manicured nails tease your hole, finally working one in, stroking across your soft insides. George kneels above you, frantically shoving his briefs down as he maintains the rhythm inside you. His thighs bracket yours, tensing in time with his strokes, with the squeezes to his cock.

Your eyes widen a fraction, somehow even more turned on at the fact of finally seeing just how big he is. George catches this and tugs at himself again, the angry red tip disappearing into his fist. “Gotta get you nice and stretched for Daddy’s cock, need you to come again for me, princess.” He slides another finger in, the burn of the stretch radiating throughout your body as your cunt clenches around George’s two fingers, trying to accommodate them.

He bends down to lick at your clit, continuing to massage the soft spot inside of you, relentless as your legs kick under his frame. You wail, finally falling apart, pulsing around his digits as he fingers you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. “So pretty falling apart for me, princess.”

“Need more,” you mewl, legs shifting farther apart to situate him between them. George slowly pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them up to lick at the slick stringing between them. The milky white of your juices swirls atop the black of his nails, bursts of your pleasure disappearing as his tongue laps them up. 

“Fucking love your pussy.” George kneels over you, hand grasping at your jaw as he stares intently into your eyes. “Be a good girl and open up for me, now.” Your jaw drops open, and you stick your tongue out, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. He spits red-hot into your mouth, wet fingers digging in to shut the taste of you into your mouth. “Taste how sweet you are.” 

“Going to be a good slut for Daddy?” He murmurs, “Open your legs again.” You spread yourself under his gaze, cunt still glistening from your orgasm, clenching around nothing. “Wider.” He grunts, grabbing your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder, sucking at the soft flesh.

“Do you have a condom, baby?” He holds himself still above you, eyes intense as he searches yours for an answer. You shake your head resolutely no, tugging him down.

“On the pill, Daddy, want you to fill me up.” George moans as he fists his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds. His tip catches against your hole, and you involuntarily clench, trying to draw him into you finally. Your back sticks uncomfortably to the sheets, damp with your sweat as you shift, anticipating George.

“Going to put it in now, going to be good for Daddy?” You nod furiously, hands running up and down George’s arms as he finally guides himself inside. He slides in slowly, carefully, pressing kisses back and forth across your cheekbones. 

“So fucking tight, princess,” he groans, biceps trembling as he stills inside you. “So wet and tight, all for me.” You whimper, overwhelmed, mind clouded in a haze of George. As the moments pass, you feel your insides practically rearranging for him, welcoming him into your dripping cunt.

You drop a hand to dip into his lower back, pressing in to tell him to start, to claim you as his. He draws out slowly, leaving only the tip of his dick nestled in your folds. You whine at the sudden loss, grasping at the sheets, clenching around air. He thrusts back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, ” you moan. You’ve never felt more full in your life, the throbbing pressure inside your cunt leaving you squirming up the bed, only to be tugged back down onto George’s cock. Tears spill out of your eyes as he builds up a steady rhythm, damp chests dragging across each other, your tits sticking with the sweat from both your bodies.

He rails into you, alternating between harsh, quick thrusts and deep ruts that leave you gasping, every ridge of his cock dragging along the most tender parts of you. “It’s all for Daddy, isn’t it? Cute little hole all mine to use." You grab at the sheets again but your palms are too damp, your body jolting as George pounds into your body.

You feel dirty and overwhelmed, everything reduced to the singular point in the body where you connect, feeling the drag and pressure inside of you. You press down on your lower belly, crying out “I can feel you, Daddy, so big in me.” George’s hand dwarfs your own, holding it down as he pushes further, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing as he rails into you.

“Taking me so well baby,” he groans, and he spits down at where the two of you are conjoined. “Want to come inside you princess, stuff you full.” Dazed, you can only nod, hurtling towards the edge. He reaches down to touch your clit, calluses rubbing as the fire in your lower belly suddenly roars over you. Your vision goes white as you come, a supernova as your slick leaks out around his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering. George has been slowly rutting into you as the last of the shockwaves roll over you, but he picks up the intensity as your eyes refocus, no longer glazed over. All you can do is lie there and take it as his thrusts shift you up the bed, his burning eyes never leaving yours as he plays with your tits.

“Fuck, gonna make you mine,” George rasps. You can feel when he starts to come, his whole body tightening up as he curls into your neck, shooting warm spurts of cum inside, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. Everything in your brain stops as his cock pulses in your overstimulated cunt, leaving you satiated and blissed out, eyes sliding shut as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Eventually, he slips his softened cock out, kissing you hard on the mouth as you wince, suddenly so empty.

You feel his release start to seep out, trickling through your folds and adding to the damp mess on the sheets below. Entranced, he pulls back to watch his translucent cum spill, dripping beads falling like nectar from the sweetest fruit. He reaches out to touch. 

“Can’t take anymore, Daddy,” you sob, throwing an arm over your eyes as you try and close your legs against the thick fingers swiping through your core. “Gotta make sure it takes, princess,” George says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before lifting himself off of you.

George moves down the bed to lie on his stomach between your thighs, hooking an arm under each to pull them apart, baring your glistening entrance again. He lets out a ragged breath before he starts lapping at your folds, getting everything that’s been lost already. You wail, already so far gone from your first two orgasms that another one seems impossible.

“Daddy knows what’s best for you,” he snaps, reaching his hand up to shove two fingers in your mouth. You keen around them, writhing against the sheets as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, the tip of his tongue repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. His nose rubs against your clit and you put a hand on his head, trying to hold him there as you rapidly approach another peak.

“Naughty little slut, I thought you couldn’t take another one,” George says, his tongue running flat over your folds. “Need you to shut up now, so I can focus.” His hand slips out of your mouth to wind around your neck, saliva-slick fingers smearing over the delicate flesh as you struggle to get another breath out, completely overwhelmed by him. He’s not putting any pressure on your throat, but the suggestion of his massive hands choking you has you on the edge in seconds, gasping at the thought. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you plead, “make me cum.” George dives back into your cunt with a fervor, sucking and fucking his cum out of you, wet and messy and utterly filthy. His hand tightens around your throat and you can hear his tongue go in and out, laving over spots that have you seeing stars. You’re lightheaded, weak as you teeter on the precipice, anchored only by the feel of his hands holding you down on the mattress.

Your orgasm shoots through you, spasming around his tongue as you arch against the sheets, covering the lower half of his face in slick. You’re practically floating in the sheets, reaching some higher level of existence as you finally close your thighs to turn on your side. When you finally come to again, George has a clean pair of briefs on, sitting up against the headboard as he strokes your arm. A glass of water sits on the side table, and you can see your phone plugged in next to it. A groan rips out of your throat as you sit up, the ache in your core already apparent as you shift.

“Do you think you can stand, babe?” George asks, hand on your lower back. You nod, swinging your legs over the side of the bed to stand. He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet as he busies himself finding a washcloth. The water has found its way into the bathroom with you, and you take appreciative gulps as he kneels before you, murmuring apologetically at the first wipe of the cloth through your folds.

“Sorry princess, gotta clean you up,” he says as you hiss, the coolness jarring against your skin. He pecks your knee when finished, and you wrap your arms around his neck to lift yourself as he slips a pair of his boxers over your hips. You feel like you could burst from the tenderness – surprised that a bar hookup is treating you so nicely after you’ve just been calling him Daddy in bed. “We should do this again,” you chuckle, fingers exploring the new bruises across your throat as you look into the mirror. He pulls you back against his warm chest, kissing the marks he left as you smile at the girl in front of you. Yeah, you could do this again.