TTPD Contents

TTPD Contents

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys

Billy Butcher x Reader Your occasional fling sees you in a dress you had put on to tease him, and he reminds you who you belong to. fem!reader, 18+ MDNI 1,385 words

“Fucking diabolical.” He muttered in your ear, somehow grinding himself deeper into you, and you couldn’t help but whine in pleasure. “Wearin’ a dress like that…” His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head up to meet his eyes in the mirror, your hips biting into the sink he had pressed you into. You were a fucking mess, your makeup smudged, hair in fucking shambles from his hands, breasts almost spilling from the little black dress that you had put on just to tease him.

“Fuck, Butcher, I…” Your eyes wandered to the edge of the sink, trying to get a grip on the slippery porcelain, when his hand clenched even tighter on your scalp, forcing your eyes back to his with a groan.

“Look at me what I’m speaking, sweetheart.” He practically growled, and you clenched around his cock in response. “There we fucking go.”

“Please…” You needed him to fuck you. Really fuck you, like he usually did.

You and him had run in similar circles for years, and there weren’t exactly a lot of you - Supe hunters. You would run into each other occasionally, and when you did, it was fucking electric. You couldn’t even really remember how it started. A glance maybe, or a stray touch. But it had come easily. Naturally. He knew how to touch you, how to make you squirm and moan and scream his name.

But this time felt different. He wasn’t trying to pleasure you. Not yet anyway. You couldn’t quite tell what he wanted, his eyes clouded with desire and something else unreadable.

You had seen it earlier, too, across the room. You had been infiltrating a Supe club, trying to get some information for someone wanting revenge after collateral damage - the usual - when you saw him. He was in a booth near the back of the club, sitting with some skinny kid you’d never seen before, legs spread dominantly, eyes raking over your whole body.

And now you were here, ass pressed against Butcher’s hips in the club bathroom, begging him to fuck you.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

He pulled out slowly. Mercilessly. Keeping you squirming and whining as he took his time, a shit-eating grin on his face as he saw the desperation in your eyes when you realised he wasn’t touching you anymore.

“What are you…” he stepped back, eyes following the curve of your body as you started to stand up to follow him, but his hand pressed to the small of your back, stopping you from moving an inch.

“Not so fast…” his other hand made hard contact with your ass and you gasped, familiar and well-loved sting already blooming there. “You wore this dress to be looked at, right love?” He pressed you down further, his hand sliding up your back and the other pulling your hips back towards him, until your forearms were resting on the sink but not much else, his hands holding you steady, both on your hips now. Then you felt it, his fingers snaking around to your slit. Slow. Deliberate. You groaned, loud and filthy, as he ran a thumb over your aching cunt, the brief but forceful pressure on your clit enough to make your legs shake underneath you.

“Woah, careful there darlin, there’s a lot more where that came from…”

He spun you around so fast you barely registered it, your lower back pressing against the ceramic, and you had a chance to take him in like this. He was still fully clothed, cock tucked back into his trousers, bulge visible as though taunting you as you stood, dress pushed up to your waist but otherwise naked. You were on full display for him, and he was loving it, darkness etched into his features.

“Butcher, I…”

“You’ve not been saying any real fucking words tonight, darling, apart from my name and please.” He stepped closer, until he was a breath away, his chest pressed against you, hips grinding into yours with a low, reverberating growl. “Tell. Me. What. You. Want.” You let out a shuddering breath.

“I need you to fuck me.” You could only whisper it, breath catching in your throat as you tried to speak.

“Well, you just had to ask.” His fingers trailed up your back to the zip of your dress, pulling it open quickly and letting the black satin drop to the floor. You couldn’t help but let your own hands fly to his shirt buttons, tearing them open with desperation. He chuckled, a sound that warmed you to your core and you dragged his lips to yours. You had been trying to kiss him all night, but he hadn’t been having it, clearly trying to punish you for teasing him. But now, even he couldn’t stand it anymore, a fact evidenced by his thick cock pressing into you through his trousers. His tongue was pushing into your mouth straight away, hot and heavy as you moaned into him, your need growing more and more by the second.

“Fuck, I swear you get more gorgeous by the day.” You hips rolled against him in response, opening your mouth to beg again but he cut you off. “I know sweetheart, I got ya’, don’t worry.” You watched as he slowly unzipped his fly again, dropping his jeans and pants to the floor as you could do nothing but stare, hands running down his toned chest and stomach, nails digging in just slightly, the way he always liked it. He gave his thick member a few soft thrusts, lining himself up with you entrance.

“You ready, doll?”

“Fucking hell, Butcher, just come here…” you dragged him towards you by the shoulders, pure desperation taking over, and he plunged into you, fully sheathing himself to the hilt.

“Fuck… sweetheart…” he grumbled, face buried in your neck and he bit down, making you arch your hips until he hit the spot inside you that was fucking blinding.

“Billy…” you whined, nails digging into his back as he dragged himself out of you then straight back in, hard and deep, stealing all the breath from your lungs.

“That’s it, girl, just like that…” He was relentless, pounding into you in a way that caused a pressure to build deep within you. You were clenched around him, so wound up you were almost on the verge of tears, when his hands dipped to your clit, his thumb circling at the perfect speed. You were achingly close already, the vulgar sounds of his grunting and his hips snapping into yours making you a complete mess under him, so responsive to his touch it was almost embarrassing, but it felt so good you just couldn’t care.

“Good fucking girl, come for me darlin… that’s it.” He kept muttering praises and whispers of your name until you reached a pinnacle. White hot pleasure ripped across your body as he continued to split you open, you legs collapsing from under you. He continued to fuck you through it, your entire body becoming a ball of over sensitive nerves, clenching and throbbing around him.

“Fuck, Butcher I… Holy shit…” you were incoherent, overstimulated and weak in his arms, leaning on the sink and letting him use you however he wanted.

“I’m nearly there babygirl, just…” he groaned loudly as you fluttered around him, “fuck just like that… so fucking pretty…” his breaths were becoming shallow, laboured, hips beginning to stutter… “so good and fucking pretty, letting me use you like this… I…fuck…” he pressed into you with a shuddering breath, and moaned your name into your ear, a sound that would be etched into your brain for a long time to come.

“Remember sweetheart…” he muttered, eventually pulling out of you in a way that elicited a soft sigh at the sudden loss of him… “that cunt is mine, you hear me? Never wear that fucking dress without me again.” He gripped your face, pulling you into a harsh kiss, teeth catching your lips as he pulled away.

“Depends, if this is what I get when I do…” He grinned, smirking in that all too familiar way.

“Fucking diabolical, girl.”

Ok so this is shameless self-promo, but I’m sooo proud of this fic and I’m so so close to 500 notes so if anyone out there is like me and obsessed with the idea of Cherik x you please please pleaseee check out my fic!!! I’ll tag it here <3

Edit: we made it to 500!! Thank you everyone!! I know it’s not a huge goal but it means a lot to me so thank you :’)

Masterlist

The Tortured Poets Department

Down Bad - Wolverine x You

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier x You

Florida!!! - Aaron Hotchner x You

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys - Billy Butcher x You

Fortnight - Din Djarin x You

See TTPD homepage for a brief synopsis and word count of each.

Kinktober 2024

See kinktober masterlist for descriptions and fandoms!

AO3

TTPD Contents

Fortnight

Din Djarin x Reader After being employed by Greef to transport you back to your home planet, Mando comes back from one of his bounty hunts beaten and bloody, and you’re forced to get closer than you expected to the man made from metal. fem!reader, 18+ MDNI 5,539 words

He had been gone for a long time. Too long.

It had been a few weeks now that you had been travelling with the Mandalorian. Greef had arranged for you to travel with him - something that the bounty hunter did not seem happy about, only muttering a gruff, reluctant affirmative when he heard the price, and that there was a bounty on your home planet to make the trip worth it, along with a few on the way.

He barely talked. When it was time for meals, he would place the plate in front of you. When you asked a question, he didn’t respond with more than one word. He was stoic and silent and alone, and he probably preferred it that way. But regardless of all of that, you felt a warmth towards him. An intrigue. There was something about the way he carried himself, authoritative but respectful, never aggressive or outright rude even though you knew he didn’t want you there. He was job focussed and not fussed about home comforts considering the small, metal alcove with one blanket that was his bed. You had opted to sleep in the cockpit most of the time; the co-pilot’s chair was much more comfortable than anywhere else on the ship. 

It had so far been a grim journey to say the least, and without a whole lot of interesting conversation, so, naturally, you had started to make up a few things about him. What he was like under all that armour. You began to imagine what he looked like. Taking his voice into account, he must be attractive. No one who sounded that good had a face that didn’t match. He was tall, you knew that, and strong. You had seen him wrestle bounties on board with little effort, and you couldn’t help but watch as he did. But under all of that, you thought he was caring. He always made sure you were fed, comfortable and safe. He made you feel safe, which was weird considering he was a relative stranger.

You were sure your imagination was running away with you, boredom and necessity projecting a person that didn’t exist onto the shell of a man who happened to always be in front of you, but you couldn’t help it. The person you had created was addictive, even if the illusion was shattered every time he ignored you, or even actively avoided you. And then it changed.

He finally spoke more than one syllable on the sixth day. You were getting close to his third bounty’s last known location: a small planet you had never heard of. You left hyperspace, watching as he slowly piloted you down to the surface. The planet was beautiful, with luscious forests and long rivers, sun sitting low in the horizon even though it was the middle of the day, a wash of orange painting the tips of each tree’s branches. You had never seen anything like it before, and you had to stop yourself physically gasping. Your awe didn’t last for long, though.

“Follow me.” The Mandalorian muttered, heading down the ladder as soon as the ship had landed, and you scrambled to keep up with him like a lost loth cat. By the time you were at the bottom of the ladder, he was shoving something into your hands and you looked down to see… a blaster?

“Do you know how to use this?”

“Yes.. I….” You couldn’t quite compose yourself, flustered.

“Good. If anything other than me comes through that door, shoot it.” You stood in shock for a few seconds as he gathered his things.

“What do you mean? What’s going to come through the door?”

“I mean I don’t know this planet well, and if you die I won’t get paid.”

“Stars, thanks for the sentiment.”

“I won’t be long.” And with that he was gone, and you closed the door behind him.

That was two weeks ago. You hadn’t seen him since. You had sat in the corner staring at the door most of the time, paranoid, only moving to eat and use the bathroom, barely sleeping. Did he know he was going to be gone this long before he left? Did he know what he said would freak you out this much? Maybe it was all a big joke…

You must’ve nodded off again, because you woke to the sound of banging on the door of the ship.

“It’s me, open up.” You heard his familiar voice shout outside, and you lunged to press the right button, blaster still clutched tightly in your hand. As the door was let down, you couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he stepped inside. He was dragging an unconscious bounty, grimacing ever so slightly as he lifted and froze them in carbonate before turning to look at you, head cocked to one side.

“What happened to you?” What in the stars did he mean? You must’ve looked a little disheveled, but…

“You freaked me out! Do I really look that bad?” You moved to smooth your hair, tucking stray strand behind your ears as he paused, his helmet moving noticeably down, then back up to meet your eyes. If he wasn’t wearing a helmet, the eye contact would’ve made you blush.

“No, you look…” he paused again, but this time it was different. He swayed a little, barely noticeable, but you glanced down to see blood dripping down the shiny beskar that covered his thigh.

“Are you ok?” You asked, quickly moving towards him, and just in time, because he was suddenly reaching out towards you, something you were sure he wouldn’t do unless he was really in trouble, his whole body weight falling onto you. “Hey?” You asked again, starting to get seriously worried.

“Sorry, just…” he groaned, and leaned on you a little more.

“Just sit down..”. You muttered, guiding his body to the floor.

“Just… a leg wound.” He practically whispered it, pointing to a metal box mounted to the wall. “Bacta… shot.” You got up, grabbing the box as fast as possible before returning to his side. You rummaged through the medical supplies while he tried to take off the piece of armour just below the now obvious knife wound. It was jagged and dirty, and unbelievably deep, way beyond just a surface wound. It almost looked like someone had stabbed him first, then tried to slash him, pulling the blade through his flesh. It looked painful. You didn’t know how he was even walking. You would definitely have to clean it out for him, but Bacta was more important right now. You found the shot, grabbing it with one hand and helping him with the other. You managed to undo the thigh guard single-handedly, discarding the piece of metal with a loud clang.

“You’ve done this before.” He chuckled through his moderator, clearly delirious from pain because you had never heard him laugh.

“Surprisingly, this is the first time I’ve undressed a Mandalorian.” Without warning, you plunged the syringe into his thigh, figuring it was best while he was distracted, pressing the bacta into his bloodstream as he groaned, his hand clenching into a tight ball as he laid on his side on the floor.

“Stars, girl, what are you doing to me?” He grunted out, exhaling harshly through his teeth as you pulled out the needle. It stopped your breath in your throat.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Without thinking, you touched his thigh, just the small strip of tan skin where the knife had broken his clothes, lightly circling your fingers around where you had injected him. He just hummed, a shuddering breath falling from his modulator as his helmet leant back onto the hard metal floor. “Do you want me to help you up? Or get more comfortable at least.” He shook his head, or more accurately, his helmet.

“Need to… stay here for a second.” You just nodded, planning to stay with him until he would let you clean him up, but he had other ideas. “Here…” he handed you a fob, pressing it into your hand and lingering for a moment, his glove the only thing between you. “Coordinates.” You had been watching him in the cockpit just long enough to know what to do.

“I’ve got it.” You stood up, legs shaky from adrenaline and exhaustion, climbing the ladder and punching to coordinates into the control board. You took a second to fix your appearance in the metallic fixings. You looked a mess, dark bags under your eyes evidence that you hadn’t slept, hair completely disheveled and clothes wrinkled. Not a lot you could do about most of that now. You just tried to tidy your hair, heading back downstairs quietly.

He was still lying on the floor, on his back now, hands over his face. He groaned quietly - in pain or relief you weren’t sure - his hips moving up and his body twisting slightly to stretch his bad leg out, letting out a soft sigh as he did. Something that felt a lot like arousal shot through you, and you cursed your own body at its involuntary response. You had barely shared a conversation in the three weeks you had known him, and for two of them he hadn’t even been on the ship, and yet, something was still there. It was just because you were lonely. It wasn’t something you could deny. You had gone to Nevarro to work, the occasional fling maybe once every few months when you had a night off but nothing more, and that’s all you’d had time for. And your home planet - Arvala-7 - was full of moisture farmers and Blurrgs and not much more than that.

He moved his hands from his helmet, uncovering his visor, and he seemed to freeze, finally noticing you. You swallowed hard, ignoring the thoughts racing through your mind.

“How are you feeling?” You asked cautiously, and he groaned.

“I’ve been better.”

“Can I help at all?” He paused, a silence you were sure was charged hanging in the air.

“I…” Not for the first time, the Mandalorian said nothing. He moved again, shifting on the cold floor.

“What? Come on, what can I help with?” You silently hoped he would say what you were thinking, but he stayed quiet. “Ok at least let me clean it up…”

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to.” You said it forcefully, with enough finality to stop him from arguing. He just sighed, groaning as he worked himself to a seated position. You moved to kneel down next to him, noticing that the cut had stopped bleeding now. You found the right supplies in the box, grabbing some sterilising wipes, bandages and gauze, and moving to a position where you could reach him, cross legged with one leg up, allowing you to easily bend down so he didn’t have to move the wound at all. The silence you had previously found unnerving proved soothing suddenly, now you were close enough to hear the quiet, filtered breaths through his helmet, it was almost hypnotic. You felt reluctant to break it, so you whispered as you opened the small plastic case that sealed the wipe.

“This is going to hurt…” You started at the edge of the wound, just wiping away some of the blood that had dried there, before folding it up and gently pressed onto the cut, trying to clear some of the dirt there, but he hissed in pain, his hand shooting up to the back of your thigh and gripping in a way that made your heart stop beating for a moment. You forced a breath in, composing yourself so you could talk.

“I’m sorry, I know, I won’t be long.”

“You keep hurting me today, girl..” he grumbled, his hand maintaining its vicelike hold on your leg.

“Well, a few weeks of silence is enough to make me do anything to get you to talk to me...” He scoffed as you continued to work, your other hand absentmindedly tracing softly up and down the skin next to it.

“Anything, huh?” Oh. You blushed at the insinuation coupled with his gravelly tone, continuing to work with a small smile. You finished with the wipe, placing it down next to you and grabbing some gauze, pressing it gently against the cut and taping the outside to keep it in place. It wasn’t until you were certain it was secure that you realised his hand was still gripping your leg. You just looked at his gloved hand for a minute, stunned and not wanting to move for fear of scaring him off, but apparently that wasn’t a problem as he loosened his grip, tracing his fingers around and laying his palm flat on the top of your thigh, spreading his fingers almost possessively and squeezing, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Well, you hoped not.

He just stayed there, still as a statue. He was hard to read, and you felt the doubt creep up on you. You finally snapped out of the trance his movement had put you in, moving to get the roll of bandage, then quickly realising the problem. His trousers were filthy. You couldn’t exactly bandage his leg while they were on. You felt yourself getting nervous in his presence again, chewing on your lip subconsciously.

“You might have to do this yourself, I can’t… um…” You fiddled with the edge of the bandage as he sat silently, helmet cocked to one side.

“You can take them off.” His voice was low and serious, a slow drawl that sent shivers down your spine.

“I can…” You whispered, shocked, in a questioning tone, but he cut you off quickly.

“You can take them off…” He repeated. “If you want to.” Kriffing stars, he was serious. Your heart was almost beating out of you chest at the prospect. You were sitting here on the floor of his ship, inches away from a man you barely knew, whose face you had never even seen, and you wanted it more than anything. Maybe it was something about being cooped up with just him in hyperspace, or being paranoid and trapped for two weeks wanting nothing more than to see him walk through the ship doors, or maybe it was just the adrenaline. Regardless, you needed him.

“Ok.”

You started with the shin plate. Then the other. Then the thigh plate you hadn’t already removed. You were still worried that somehow you had misconstrued the situation, that you had made a mistake. That he just wanted you to patch him up and move on. You had seen yourself in the metal of the cockpit, there was no way he was after you.

Then his hand found the back of yours. At some point, while you had been carefully removing his armour, he had taken off his gloves. Your breath caught as his bare skin touched yours, the electricity of it taking you by surprise. He was warm, dry, hands calloused and fingers dipping between yours and gripping on with a soft sigh. You were practically shaking but he wasn’t, his grip strong as he guided you up his leg, all the way up to his codpiece. He let go, and you sighed, instantly missing the feel of his skin. There was no doubt left as you unbuckled the hard piece of armour, and you saw the bulge in his trousers. You almost forgot that you were supposed to be bandaging him up, so transfixed by the sight, and trying to still your shaking hands as you moved up to his waistband. He finally let go of your leg, using both his arms to briefly lift himself off the floor as you slid off his trousers, a small groan escaping his lips as they moved past the cut.

“Kriff, sorry.” It was the first time the silence had been broken in the last few minutes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the first cut through the tension somehow making it thicker. He lifted his leg a tiny bit and sat up, foot on the floor so you could reach all the way around him. You knelt to give yourself better access, and he draped his arm over your lap, the other one lazily undoing his chest piece. You gulped, trying to focus as you wrapped the first piece of fabric around his bare leg, but your fingers were running across the warm expanse of his thighs, so solid and strong, and you couldn’t help but look in the direction of his under-shorts, the thin fabric straining as he continued to remove armour pieces while you worked, the beskar periodically clanging against the hard metal floor. You couldn’t help but wonder if he would remove his helmet too. Mandalorians weren’t exactly a subject you knew much about, and you’d heard that they didn’t take their headwear off, but you had always assume that was something to do with safety and security, but here he was, half naked in front of you, letting you touch him. Maybe there was another reason.

You finally finished, the soft shake in your hand still very much present as you tightly knotted the white fabric, triple checking it was secure.

“There. It shouldn’t take too long to heal.” You muttered, nervous, and he hummed in response. You looked up at him, seeing him in just his undershirt, a thin brown material that wrapped around his body, secured with a tie and a small button, and the helmet. You could practically feel your heart beating, hyper-vigilant of your hand still resting on his thigh.

“It’s a shame you’re not going to be sticking around longer…” he muttered, his hand trailing up your arm and towards your face, fingers drifting across your jaw, “…you’re good at fixing me up.” You just about managed to hum as your head started to spin. He muttered your name, sitting up quickly in a groan of pain and you tried to say you were fine, but nothing came out, and you saw the world twist around you as everything went black.

You woke up, groggy and confused, blinking your eyes open to see the familiar walls of the cockpit, dizzying lights of hyperspace flashing across the ceiling. You were lying on a makeshift bed that he must have put up for you - just spare pillows and blankets, but comfortable - and you could see his outline sitting in the pilot’s chair. Trying to sit upright, you realised your head was pounding, and you groaned, falling back on your elbows. He noticed, spinning around fast in his seat and striding over to your side. You noticed he was back in his armour, which was disappointing, his gloved hand running down the side of your face and tucking your hair behind your ear.

“How’s your… leg?” You muttered, voice croaky.

“Perfectly healed, thanks to you.” You frowned. Surely that’s not right. Bacta accelerated the speeding process, but not to a matter of minutes.

“What? How long have I been out?”

“About 10 hours.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Mando…” you weren’t sure where the name came from, something you heard Greef say, but you were frazzled and worried and honestly, you had earned the right to a nickname after the last two weeks.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for… are you feeling ok? Hungry? Thirsty?” There was a genuine concern in his voice, a warmth to it you hadn’t heard before.

“Yeah… um… I am a little hungry actually.” He nodded, his helmet bobbing.

“Ok, let me make you something.”

He was back 5 minutes later, bowl of soup in hands that he passed to you. You thanked him gratefully, eating quickly as he busied himself with the console. As simply as that, you were back to the silence you were used to. You were disappointed. You had come so close earlier to something else, something beyond this weird, awkward quiet.

You sat in the corner on your bed, staring at the streaking lights playing across the roof of the cockpit as you sat in hyperdrive. The quiet was almost deafening, just the whirring of space and the beeps of the consoles to keep you sane. You had to get out of the room. It was suffocating.

You moved to stand up, slowly, head still spinning, but it was no use. You fell back down anyway, your ass hitting the floor with a soft thud as you huffed. The Mandalorian’s head snapped around quickly, looking over his shoulder to see you, crumpled on the floor, frustrated look on your face.

“Let me help you.” He stood up, moving over to you but you shook your head, something that only made your head spin more.

“No, I’m ok. I just need to…” you stood again, but this time was just as bad. You swayed, the world going dark for a second as you tried to focus on staying upright. As the spots cleared, you realised you were standing, but only because he was holding you up, his hands gripping your waist. He practically dragged your limp body to the copilot chair, sitting you down unceremoniously and kneeling in front of you.

“Listen to me, you’ve been living off adrenaline for two weeks - you’re exhausted, you’re hungry, you’re probably dehydrated. I…” he paused, shaking his head, “I’m sorry about what I said before I left. I was being genuine, but I didn’t mean for you to… I’m sorry.” It was sweet, the way he was stuttering, genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine, Mando…”

“No it’s… let me help you now. What can I do? Do you need sleep? Food?” You noticed then that his hands were still on you, thumb running lazy circles across the top of your thigh as he looked at you with what seemed to be earnest. You were getting better at interpreting his emotions based on his helmet, his body language, his tone of voice. He wasn’t as much of a stranger as you thought he was. He was an open book. Like now. He was leaning towards you, helmet tilted up to your face, hands on your thighs in a way that screamed intimacy. That he was comfortable with you. That he wanted you. You had doubted him earlier, but he was so forward, showing you exactly what he wanted. Now it was your turn to take a lead.

“I can think of one thing.” You muttered, shy smile spreading across your face. You moved your hands down to his, gripping and pulling them further up your legs, until they were on your hips and ass.

“You sure, girl? You passed out on me, can barely stand up…”

“I just slept for 10 hours. I think I’ll be ok.” He stayed silent, processing, and but you held firm as your head cleared, any residual aches being replaced with lust for the man on his knees in front of you.

“In that case…” he seemed to spring into life, pulling your hips to the edge of the chair and scooping you up with ease, and moving to the bed. You were grinning as he laid you down gently, hand brushing some hair from your face. He removed his gloves first, and you danced the same dance that you did earlier, removing each piece of his armour with a touch of recklessness. His ungloved hands found the hem of your tee, pulling it over your head as you sat up, finally getting a chance to remove his undershirt. You couldn’t help but run your hands across his expansive chest. His firm muscles, the soft chest hair that curled and swayed as your fingers explored him, the raised edges of scars that littered his torso. And then, all at once, the apprehension from earlier came rushing back, as your hands drifted to his shoulders, intending to run up into his neck and hair and to kiss him, but the helmet…

Your confusion must have been written on your face, as he cautiously grabbed your wrists, thumbs drawing circles on the back of your hands.

“I’m sorry, girl, it has to stay on…” You smiled sweetly, confidence trickling back. At least you knew now.

“I think we can work with that.” You pressed your lips to his chest, a groan escaping him as you continued to plant kisses down his torso until you reached the waistband of his undershorts. You palmed the bulge that was forming, his hips bucking towards you in his kneeling position. You could feel how big he was already, thick and heavy, and you felt a slick growing between your legs at the thought of him inside you, how good he would feel. You pulled down his waistband, letting his length spring free. He was so hard already from just a few touches, precum leaking from his tip. There was something that told you his situation was similar to yours - he was too busy for intimacy, always moving from one place to another, never enough time. Desperate and touch-starved. So you started light.

You backed up a little on the bed to give yourself the best possible access to him, dipping your head and running your tongue lightly up his shaft. That motion alone turned him to jelly, a sigh escaping his lips and a hand instinctively falling to the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair. You circled around his tip, applying as little pressure as possible, before lifting off him. You slowly lowered your head further, tongue flat, taking his gently into your mouth, but he had other ideas. With a low growl, it was like something in him took over, and his hips were bucking up into your mouth, hand pressing down on your head and sheathing his whole length into you and down your throat. You gagged, gasping around him in shock and he cursed, gripping tighter.

“Stars, girl, I can’t believe how good you feel…” Tears welled in your eyes from the pressure in your throat, but you gripped the sheets, swallowing around him and wanting nothing more than to please him. To make sure he felt good. He finally lifted your head up, and you quickly gulped air into your lungs, but he was pressing you back down again. He knew how to give you just enough air to keep going, and you could almost sense a hint of frustration in his movement, almost resentment at you being here, or maybe for passing out at the crucial moment earlier. That he would’ve carried you upstairs, hard and desperate, laying you down gently but what you had been about to do would have been swirling in his head for hours, pent up need and want bubbling over until this point. The idea was addictive, making you moan around him as he continued to restrict your breathing with his thick cock.

“You know…” he started, every few words punctuated with a grunt or groan as he continued his relentless pace, “I’ve been thing about this… your pretty lips… how they would look wrapped around me… on your knees… Stars you’re perfect…” Every word was like an aphrodisiac, so aroused that you were sure that a single touch would send you over the edge. “Pretty girl… letting me use your mouth…” His hips started to stutter, and you moved one hand from the bedspread to his thigh, letting your nails dig into his thigh and he moaned, truly and unabashedly. That was your warning, and as you opened your throat for him once more, he was emptying into you, hands gripping your hair tighter than ever as you swallowed every last drop.

He was practically a heap on the floor when you were done with him, slumped against the hard metal wall next to him. Your breathing was ragged as you moved to sit down, swinging your legs around and stretching them in front of you. He tucked himself back into his trousers as you smiled sheepishly, listening as his own breaths returned to a normal rhythm.

“Fuck, you take good care of me…” He muttered, hand finding its way to your face to gently brush under your eyes, which were still a little watery.

“Well, I don’t really want you to strand me in hyperspace…” you joked, then frowned. You don’t want him to think you only did that because… “not because I felt like I had to… I mean, I wanted to… really I…”

“I know.” He said, amusement peeking through in his tone. You laughed in nervous relief, suddenly realising you were only half dressed. You reached for your top, intending to redress and help with something on the ship, but he grabbed your wrist just as your fingertips grazed it. “Maybe I should take care of you for a change…”

“Mando, you do, I… oh.” You realised what he meant as his hand found your waistband, tugging on it lightly. You helped him, pulling them over your ass and allowing him to pull them off completely.

“Take it off.” He muttered, gesturing towards your bra, and you blushed at his sultry tone, unclipping and discarding it as per his command. His hand fell to your sternum, pressing you back to the bed until you were lying flat.

“What are you…” you started, wanting to know what he had planned, but before you could finish, he had teased two fingers into your mouth. You hummed around them with a frown, but he didn’t move.

“Trust me.” He spoke quietly, his tone dark, exuding dominance. You just nodded. He released your mouth from his grasp, dragging his thumb across your lip with an intense stare that made you start to pull your legs together, desperate for some relief in your aching core, but he wouldn’t allow it, using his knees to press your legs apart. Your breathing was shallow as his fingertips seemed to swirl across every inch of your body, light, barely there, and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging. He finally made it to your panties, quickly removing them and grabbing both thighs, spreading you apart even further for him. Your hips instinctively bucked, trying to entice him, but it took an agonisingly long time for him to move. You were practically shaking with desperation, trying not to writhe around too much, but the lack of attention was almost getting painful. Finally, he released one of your legs, his grip on the other only getting tighter, and ran one finger through your folds with a delicious pressure. You whined loudly, body reactive to his touch, and he laughed darkly.

“So wet for me, pretty girl.” Then, he plunged two fingers into you, pressing deep and stretching you out. The sound he pulled from your throat was guttural, and you clenched around him, earning a groan. “Show me how you touch yourself.” What?

“Show you…” you asked shyly, as though he wasn’t already knuckle deep in your cunt.

“Show me.” You let your fingers trace down your body, finding your clit with ease. You set up your usual rhythm - soft, slow circles, gradually increasing in pressure. As you settled into it, moaning as you touched yourself, his fingers started to match your pace, curling into you and hitting that blinding spot. You figured it couldn’t get any better, surely, reaching the edge faster than you ever had, then his other hand found your nipple and gripped hard, pulling as a pathetic whimper fell from your mouth.

“Fuck, Mando… I think I’m going to…” Your breathing grew less regular as an intense pressure rose in your core, and he just continued to work you through it.

“That’s it pretty girl, good job… just come all over my hand, that’s right…” his words of encouragement and praise were enough to send you over, body locking up as white hot pleasure coursed through your body. He continued to talk, but you missed most of it blood rushed between your ears.

He laid next to you as you caught your breath, pulling the blanket over you both and pulling you close to his chest. You sighed, settling into him and listening to his heart beat. His hand found your hair, gently running through it and pushing it from your face.

“I really would like you to stay longer, pretty girl.” You smiled at the new nickname you had picked up, humming contentedly.

“I don’t mind taking a detour…” you muttered. “I have nowhere better to be than right here.”

Ok I hated this so much and it was bugging me all night so I spent a lottt of time editing this evening and I’m a lot more happy with how it is now. I hope the improvement is noticeable lol

Day 6: One Night Stand

Nanami Kento x you

Contents: fem!reader x Nanami (JJK), honestly not very kinky and I actually hate this and it’s barely edited but here it is

W/C: 2.7k

So I think this is overthought and overworked and mostly just nonsense but I love this man and my brain ran away with me, I’ll make it up with filth soon don’t worry <3

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

You couldn’t place your finger on why, but the moment you laid your eyes on the man at the bar, you were drawn to him.

He had a certain presence around him, commanding. He was attractive, obviously, with neat, parted blonde hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. He was tall too, and well built - a fact you could ascertain even though he was wearing a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit. Honestly, everything about him seemed perfect to the point of obsession - his tie knotted impeccably, the pin exactly straight and his shirt tucked neatly, even though it was long after the usual 9-5 hours.

But he looked tired. Drooping eyes with dark bags under them, and he hadn’t lifted his gaze from the glass of bourbon nestled in his hand except to ask the bartender for a refill. He seemed powerful and stoic, and he looked very much like you wanted to be alone. But just in case he didn’t, maybe you should give him an option…

You finished your drink, grabbing your things from the small corner booth to perch at the bar. You were only a few stools away now, but you were too nervous to speak to him directly, opting instead to order a drink from the bartender. The same as always: a martini, gin, dry, twist. The only ‘classy’ cocktail you could stomach. He nodded at you, moving to make it, and you watched, only drawn away for a moment to check yourself in your compact. You would probably have to freshen up after this drink but your make up was still relatively intact - one of the few perks of working an office job for years.

You put your purse away, looking up to see the bartender placing down your drink… that was wrong. It had an olive. You hate olives. You glanced up, not wanting to complain, only to see that he had his back to you. And there was no way in hell you were going to try and get his attention…

“Excuse me, Sir…” you heard a smooth voice say, and saw the man beside you lift his arm to beckon the barkeep back. “She ordered a twist, not an olive.” He was blunt in the way he spoke, but not rude. Commanding and polite. And he had noticed your order, noticed you. It made you blush.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. I’ll remake it right away.”

“Thank you.” He replied, smiling wordlessly at you as he continued to drink.

“Thank you,” you managed to choke out, forcing yourself to ignore the anxiety ringing in the back of your mind, “I never would’ve asked.”

“It’s not a problem.” You smiled again, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going, but to your surprise, he was the one who continued, “I’m Nanami, by the way.” You introduced yourself just as your fresh drink was served. You thanked the bartender while he apologised profusely, although you couldn’t help but notice that he was aiming most of his regrets at Nanami.

“I haven’t seen you here before.” He muttered once the barkeep had gone, his eyes never wavering from yours.

“No, it’s my first visit here. My office just moved location to a few streets down, so I figured I would test some of the bars in the area.” You paused, cautious of how fast you were talking. Relax. “Do you come here often?” He nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Depends on how late I’m working, but at least weekly.”

“What do you do?”

You hadn’t realised how close you had moved to him until your knee hit his while you were listening to him talk. You must have been leaning in subconsciously, mesmerised by him, but by the smirk on his lips halfway through his sentence, he didn’t mind.

“Sorry, I’ve been going on… I have a lot of enthusiasm for anything besides my work…”

“What’s your plan then? If you don’t enjoy your work, what are you aiming for at the end of it?” He cocked his head at the candour of your question, a more serious expression falling over his face.

“I… I want a house by the beach. A life without working hours. Or maybe just a job that… makes a difference. A real difference to real people, not just to the top 1%. I don’t really mind beyond that.” He sighed, finishing his drink quietly. You could see a lot of yourself reflected in his attitude. You wanted nothing more than to escape the routine, the boredom of it all, the constant feeling of worthlessness you were burdened with from working in finance. You just wanted something outside of that monotony. Outside of the greyscale.

He laughed humourlessly, placing his empty glass on the bar.

“Sorry, I ruined the mood.”

“No, no, I was just… well, I was just thinking about how nice that sounded.” You smiled at him, but it took a moment to realise that your hand had fallen to his thigh. You blushed, embarrassed, starting to remove it but he stopped you, his own hand falling on top of yours. Cold, but not uncomfortably so, his long fingers wrapping around your palm, thumb drawing lazy circle on your wrist.

“Did you maybe want to grab another drink at mine? It’s only a few streets away and the bar’s closing soon…”

“I’d love to.”

It had started raining, and you hadn’t brought a jacket with you. Luckily, you didn't mind the rain, a fact he seemed appalled by when you walked straight out into it without batting an eye. He didn’t have much of a choice but to follow, your hand still wrapped in his. You were both soaking by the time you reached the lobby of his apartment building, dripping in the elevator as you made your way up the many floors. You watched the number tick up hand in hand, your head rested gently on his shoulder. It would’ve been a good time to kiss him, but something stopped you. Something told you if you kissed him now, the night would end. You would fuck and fall asleep in each other’s arms and then you would never talk again. You didn’t want that. You found him fascinating, and as much as you wanted to fuck him, you weren’t ready for the night to be over.

His apartment was gorgeous - panoramic views of the city, minimal but tasteful furnishings, and a beautiful floor-to-ceiling book shelf full to the brim of classic literature. You made a beeline for it as soon as you had removed your shoes, the first time since you left the bar that you had let go of his hand, although it somehow felt colder now it was gone. You recognised a few titles, running your fingers over the spines as you read the names to yourself, marvelling at the perfectly alphabetised collection.

“I don’t know why I keep buying them - I haven’t had a chance to read them all yet. Not enough time.” He had moved beside you, arm touching yours with a warmth you hadn’t expected. He had taken off his suit jacket, his shirt almost completely dry beneath it, a welcome feeling next to your bare arms.

“I’ll help you.” You mused quietly, “We can divide and conquer.” He smiled at that warmly, his eyes seeming to brighten with it. After a blissful second, he seemed to come to his senses, tearing his eyes away from you and sighing in a way that suggested frustration with himself.

“Oh I’m sorry, you’re soaked through, let me get you a towel…” Before you could object he had rushed away, and taken his warmth with him, but he had left you smiling like a school girl.

After you had dried off just enough to not drip rainwater all over his floor, he offered you a drink. You accepted gratefully, and he motioned you to his sofa. You sat at the far end, curling your legs up so you could face him. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved. It was almost lyrical, the fluidity of his arms as he reached to grab a pair of tumblers from his cupboard, the ease with which he opened the scotch bottle, the ever so slight strain of his shirt buttons as he walked. He handed you the drink, fingers brushing slightly, and you thanked him, taking a sip and nestling it carefully in your palm. He had sat close to you, achingly close, the side of his thigh pressed tightly against your shins. It was comforting.

You couldn’t help but watch as he got comfortable in his own home, removing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves, meticulously intruding and folding his tie, placing it carefully on the table next to the cufflinks, undoing just his top shirt button, allowing you to steal a glance at his collarbone and the hollow of his neck. You wanted nothing more than to run your tongue across the pale skin there, hear his groan into your ear…

You snapped out of your daydream when he started to talk, taking a sip of scotch to wake yourself up.

“I’m glad you moved to sit at the bar tonight.” You nearly spit out your drink.

“How do you…” You hadn't seen him look up from his drink once all evening, so you weren't sure when he had time to notice you…

“I saw you come in.” You laughed in disbelief, a playful smile falling across your lips, but he looked serious. “You looked tired. Frustrated. You were squinting at your phone and nearly bumped into three people on your way to a booth.” Jesus, he really had noticed you. “And then you put your phone away, and I could see your whole body visibly relax. You were just watching people, looking at the world go by. I couldn't tell, but I thought you might've been…”

“What?” You whispered, whole body tense as you listened to him speak about you in such vivid clarity.

“Sad. You looked sad, at the lives other people seemed to have. The joy. Not jealous, just… resigned to the fact you don’t have that.” God, he was good. You chuckled without warmth, casting your eyes away from his and to your drink.

“You should be a shrink, you know…”

“No I just… I know that look.” You smiled, tucking your legs up to your chest and draping your arm across the back of the sofa. He wrapped his arm around your legs in a way that seemed instinctive, natural even, pulling you into his chest just a little bit, just enough to feel that gorgeous warmth emanating from him again. “So, what does your future look like? Away from a corporate life?” He echoed your earlier question, and you thought for a moment, gazing into his eyes, hoping for some inspiration.

“A cottage in the countryside, maybe in a historic village somewhere. A sprawling garden with runner ducks and cats and fruit trees. A vintage sewing machine and a record player and a library.” You paused, taking a sip of your drink to try and pull yourself away from your imaginary life before you got too attached. “I just want my future to be something… relaxing, and beautiful. Something or somewhere I can be content. And if I have to work, let it be somewhere I can make a difference. Even if I’m not happy, as long as I’m making a difference...” He began to run his fingers across your thigh in slow circles, his deep brown eyes scanning your face with an intensity you’d never seen before. It was… recognition. Acknowledgment.

“To being content… or making a difference.” he muttered, raising his glass to you, and you repeated the toast, lightly touching the rim to his before finishing the last of it.

You had just started to talk about something trivial when he noticed you shivering. You honestly hadn't even realised, so hypnotised by him that you didn't quite feel real, your body taking over while your mind just let itself admire him. His hand slipped over yours, a concerned look crossing his face.

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine, really…”

“No, you’re shivering. Let me get you a blanket or…”

“Or…” you paused, placing down your glass and allowing your now free hand to fall to his chest, “maybe you’ll could think of a creative way to warm me up…” His whole demeanour shifted, the worry replaced with a dark expression, a smirk falling to his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” You muttered in response, stretching your leg across his laps and shifting your hips so you were straddling him, lips now only inches from his. “I heard it’s always best to take off wet clothes…” Your lack of recent flirting practice was showing, and you almost cringed at your own awful line, but the noise was stifled in your throat as he firmly pulled your lips to his. He breathed up into you, needy hands in your hair and teeth catching your lips as you smiled against him, settling your hips onto his lap. It didn't take long for his hands to fall to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh there in a way that made you whine, grinding down onto him ever so slightly.

“God, been thinking about this since I saw you walk into tonight…” he breathed against your collarbone, pressing a sloppy kiss there as you tried to catch your breath. You ran your nails through his hair as he did, and his teeth caught you, biting down and sucking in a deliciously painful way that was sure to leave a mark. It made your hips buck even more, so sensitive after making yourself wait longer than you ever would have for a one night stand, and you could feel him growing hard against you now. He pulled off your soaking top, leaving you in your bra and skirt as your fingers fell to his shirt buttons, deftly undoing them and running your hands over the broad expanse of muscle there. You needed him closer, but even as you pulled his chest against you, it wasn't enough. You needed him inside you.

“You look perfect like this…” he muttered, hands falling to your hips and rocking you back and forth against his length, your core throbbing, and you were already panting with need.

“Nanami…” You could already barely speak, wound up from hours of tension and obsession, needing release, needing something to alleviate the aching that was threatening to tear through you. “I…” The words didn't come, so you moved your hands to his trousers instead, trying to undo the button there but they were shaking. He caught what you were trying to say quickly, gently moving your hands and doing it himself, pulling himself from his boxers. He was bigger than you expected, the tip pink and leaking as it bounced against his stomach. You were impatient, not wanting to undress any more, setting yourself up perfectly above him and pulling your panties to the side. Your core was soaking, so ready for him, but his hands on your hips paused you. One trailed up to your face, holding you by the chin and pulling your lips to his.

“That’s better…” he whispered before releasing you, letting your forehead fall to his before you finally sunk down onto his cock. You both groaned with the feeling, your open mouths meeting briefly as you took more of him into you. The stretch was painful, but in such a perfect way it didn’t matter, and as your lips parted, your breathing got heavy in the small space between you. Your hips met his, and you moaned, feeling so completely and perfectly full. The hands that had settled on your hips moved to your ass and began to guide you up and down, gripping tight as you slowly lifted yourself off, savouring the feeling of him dragging inside your walls. Your arms draped around his neck, pulling him closer as you rode him until you were breathless, your sweat and pants filling the air between you. You were getting close quickly, the angle he was hitting mixed with the way your sensitive clit was grinding against him with every thrust. He was marking you now, hard love bites across your chest that made you whine, the sting delicious, and your hips started to stutter.

“I… oh fuck… I’m close Nanami.” It was electric, every single time he touched you sending you to new level of pleasure and you couldn’t help but moan unabashedly.

“Mhm… I’m close too…. never wanted anything… more than this… fuck…” His ramblings against your chest was enough to send you over the edge, blinding pleasure washing over you in waves as you felt him reach his peak too, hot seed filling you as you tried to catch your breath, body falling limp against his shoulder.

You showered together. Talked some more. Had another drink. Fucked again. He ate you out until you were writhing on the bed, screaming his name. Then you fell asleep with his arm wound tightly around your waist.

You woke up before him. Quietly collected your things and slipped out.

You wanted to leave your number. You really did. But even though you’d only met him a few hours ago, you knew he was the only thing that could keep you in the city. After everything you spoke about, everything you dreamed about with him the night before, you were done with the city. You needed out. You wanted back to your old life.

You had been offered a position at your alma mater a few months back. It was dangerous to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer, so you had declined, but you knew now this way of living was much more deadly.

Maybe that was the reason you had been drawn to him. Maybe he was the push you needed to finally be who you were.

Kinktober Day 1 : First Time

Qimir/The Stranger x you Contents: pwp, fem!readerxQimir (The Acolyte), MDNI 18+ W/C: 1.1k Finally got day 1 done and posted; I'll try and be more on time from here on out! Been thinking about him ever since I watched the show and now I finally have a chance to write something slutty about him for no reason :) enjoy x Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

“You’ve never given in to those urges, have you? Even after all these years.”

“I… I’m a Jedi…” You muttered feebly as you sat watching him cook over the small stove, occasionally gazing over at you through those gorgeous, deep brown eyes.

“No, you were a Jedi. A Padawan at that. You aren’t anymore. You're free to do as you please.” You knew exactly what he meant, exactly what you wanted to do. You hadn’t been subtle when he had walked out of the sea earlier, the way the drops of salt water had clung to him as more of his form was slowly exposed to you, as though they didn’t want to let go. You knew the feeling. You hadn’t been able to tear your eyes off of him. But what had followed afterwards was a pang of guilt so intense you could have doubled over with it.

The Jedi had always been good at instilling shame in its pupils.

And you knew that. Logically, you knew that the Jedi way was not a path that you followed anymore, that the values you were taught from a young age were not ones that bound you now. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to cross that invisible line. No matter how much you desperately wanted to.

“I can give you what you want.” He paused, as though gaging your reaction.

“And how do you know what I want?” You asked, angry as he continued to read your every action perfectly.

“Because I have been you before. See…” He moved quickly, striding over to you, pulling off his top and kneeling down. The intensity of his eye contact was unwavering and it made you blush and begin to move backwards, but he reached out gently, enveloping your hand with his and stopping you in your tracks. A soft power spread through your body from the epicentre where your hands met, and by the look on his face, he could feel it too. It was dark and overwhelming, but as flowed further through you, it felt right. He felt right.

He was moving your hand towards him, and you could do nothing but let him, dizzy with the way he was openly sharing himself with you. He finally broke his hypnotic eye contact to turn away from you, and as his hand left yours, you already missed the warmth of his touch. And then your eyes focussed in on what he was trying to lead you to. Your fingertips met the rough skin that streaked across his back like a lightning bolt, a jagged welt that bore unimaginable pain.

“Every Jedi Master leaves scars on their Padawan, whether mental or physical. Mine are obvious. Yours…” He turned around to see your eyes wide, dazed and confused by his admission. He had been a Padawan. And now here he was, a Jedi killer. Maybe he did know what you wanted. He was right, he was you, just a few mere details tweaked. “Your Master killed the girl you were, your ideas, your individuality. Your morals. He rebuilt you whatever way he saw fit. He made you think preserving peace and teaching younglings were all you could be good for. I hope you see now that you can be so much more than that. You are so much more than that.” As though proving his point, his hand grasped yours again, the near dizzying power flowing through you once more. You remembered something he had said earlier, something he had wanted. The power of two. You knew what he meant now. Who wouldn’t want this?

It didn't take long for you to give in to everything you had promised to abstain from. Anger. Fear. Desire.

You spent your days training your body and mind, doing everything to remove the final shackles the Jedi had over you. And you spent your nights with him, legs intertwined, sloppy, opened mouth kisses as he rocked into you, reminding you who had opened your eyes to a whole new world of pleasure and pain. That he was the one who had corrupted you. That he was the only one who would ever see you like this. The only one who would ever make you feel like this.

The night he had told you about his past was the night you had finally allowed yourself to go after what you wanted.

You had kissed him first. You weren’t sure where it came from, but he was there in front of you, shirtless and on his knees, promising you a new life, and you couldn’t help yourself. You gave in so easily. And he reciprocated. He took you to bed and undressed you tenderly. Every touch was addictive, your body reacting to him in a way you didn't think possible. Then he buried his head between your legs, and suddenly this… sensation was starting to overcome you. His tongue was swirling around your core, and there was a pressure building, and it felt good, really good but it was hot and weird and….

“Wait, wait…” you gasped, and he lifted his head immediately, panting and looking up at you with confused eyes. The feeling was gone immediately, but you could still feel the panic rising in your throat.

“Are you ok?” He asked cautiously, hand grabbing yours. You squeezed gratefully.

“Yeah, I… sorry, I just had this weird feeling and I didn't…” He smiled softly, and you blushed, feeling like an idiot.

“Do you trust me?” Everything in your head was telling you no, telling you to scream at him, to let you go back to your old ways, but your heart fought back. You nodded. “Then let it happen, ok?” You nodded again, and watched as his tongue dipped back into your folds. You moaned lightly, running your hand through his hair as he continued, and that feeling was back again. You started to panic, but he gripped your hand tighter, reassuring you, and then something happened. All the pressure was suddenly released and all that was left was a wave of white hot pleasure ripping through your body. Your hips bucked into him instinctively as you rode it out, vision cloudy, hand gripping his tight.

It wasn’t long before he was inside you, his thrusts long and deep. It hurt, you couldn’t deny it, a pain biting at you that almost brought tears to your eyes. But he looked down at you, whispering praises and curses and the pain gave way to pleasure, even more blinding than before. You whimpered, a pathetic cry torn from your lips.

“That’s it, good job…” he muttered, “that feel good?” You hummed in acknowledgment, not quite enough breath in your lungs to say anything else. You ran your hands up and down his arms, feeling the rippling muscles there as he continued to rut into you.

“Maker, you feel incredible…”

And after that, you were his. His pupil. His lover. His acolyte.

The power of two.