#the collector x reader smut

[samicakes-exe]

There is no market for this character I KNOW but he's been living in me and my friend's brain rent free sooo heres a fic <3 also hes very pretty look at him

words: 5k n a half so a 20 minute read <3

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʟ <3

Warnings: Mentions of dead bodies blood death in general, hard sex, teasing, VERY SACRILEGIOUS OMG I DONT KNOW WHAT CAME OVER ME, afab reader, feminine pet names, reader had boobs and a puss. Degradation, praise. edited but still sucks so bad omg im embarrassed.

ℕ𝕆 𝔹𝕌𝕃𝕃𝔼𝕋 𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 𝕁𝕌𝕊𝕋 𝕊𝕄𝕌𝕋

Stained glass laid out in bits and pieces, swallowing up most of the floor. It crunched underneath The Collector's boots as he walked through the carnage, slain demons and your fallen comrades both joined together now in blood and guts. All of it splattered along the motel’s walls and painted the ceiling. The greens and reds pooled together and dripped down. A horrendous sight for you but for him: it was what he’s been waiting for these last hundred-something years. He stopped and knelt before Brayker’s body. It was beaten, crumpled, and bloody. The hole in the chest, blood there was thick and lathered around like someone took a butterknife of jam to toast. A rather large smirk split his lips apart, he poked one of the exposed rib bones. 

“I told you this would happen, Honey.” His voice rang out, bouncing along the walls, and a chuckle soon followed. “I was right wasn’t I?” 

He stood up, brushing his finger off on his slacks. 

“It’s okay sweetheart~”

You stayed still, jaw clenched tight, teeth digging so far into each other that they threatened to snap. The key was clutched in your right hand over your heart. You overfilled it some, splattering you with the holy blood. It dripped between your breasts. Footsteps passed over your hiding spot-  pressed against the wall amidst the heavy curtains.  

“That offer still stands. Hell, I’ll only add more!” He kicked at the dust bunnies while he paced around the attic floor. He knew you were here, he could smell you in the air. He walked past you once more, now going in circles. Stepping over Brayker each time. 

“Ya know I had a feeling about you Y/N. Y/N, such a pretty name, isn’t it?” He stopped pacing. He was facing the broken window, looking out into the night sky. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

He turned on his heels to face you- hidden in the thick curtains, soaked with fear and with the stars burnt into your hand still itching. You held the key tighter. You held your breath longer. You felt his stare but prayed that he would ignore you. The amens fell flat when he inched closer, his footsteps thrumming in your ears. 

“Y/N we can do this the easy way where you show yourself or..” He trailed off and took another step. Your breath hitched, your body trembled when air filled your lungs. Cockiness lit up his face as he tilted his head back at the slight noise. He almost didn’t hear it but was glad that he did. He revelled in it. How delicious it was. How breathy it was. How fearful it was sent a throb through his cock. Something you've been doing to him the entire night. Whenever he first walked through the motel’s door and laid eyes on you- unlocked something deep within him, whether it was L-O-V-E or lust didn't matter one bit. He saved you last for a reason. You never eat dessert before dinner, do you? 

A hand of yours pulled back the curtain to reveal yourself, holding the key to your chest tight like an old woman clutching her pearls. You didn’t let him finish the threat. You stood there, quiet but shaking as your eyes met with his. The Collector grinned wide and you watched his gaze go elsewhere, drinking your body in. He studied your face then down your neck, shoulders and finally your chest- Where Brayker’s blood pooled and dripped down your cleavage. He followed the dried trail until your white tank top stopped him, that’ll be fixed soon if he had anything to do with it. His eyes moved over to the key next. The entire reason he was here. The thing he spent a hundred years chasing. 

His attention was pulled right back to you when through chattering teeth you spoke up. “The offer earlier…? Does it… Can I?” 

He brought his eyes to meet with yours and there they stayed, his grin never leaving his face. He closed the distance between you two by gently pushing you against the wall, his arms above your head. You never noticed how tall he was and how nice he smelt. 

“Can I? Does it?” He chuckled, tilting his head with each word. Still, his eyes focused on yours. “Come on, use your words, I know you can.” 

You swallowed a breath you held in your mouth. You were too scared to break eye-contact and he liked it that way.  “Can I take the deal?” 

“Oh pretty girl I wanna give you more than just the deal~” He said, his willpower was fading faster by the second. He couldn’t break yet especially when he was so close to his reward. He leaned closer to you. There he stayed, staring into your eyes for a few seconds more before he moved his face into the crook of your neck. The scent of you drove him utterly insane. 

“All you have to do is hand over that little key~ Dump all that nasty blood out.” he spoke into the skin of your neck. Not yet marked. Not yet tainted. He could taste the built up desire on his tongue. All he allowed himself to do was press his lips on your skin twice. He could feel your heartbeat thumping. The small taste of you made his mouth water. He would give anything to rid of this facade, to fully take and ruin you but he held firm. He wanted you to want him, he wanted you to beg and so he’ll wait like a dog until you do so.. 

“No.” 

The collector was taken aback. He pulled away, looking back into your eyes. His lips pulled into a small frown and his eyebrows knitted together. “No?” 

“No.” You were firm with your words, “You could trick me.” 

The Collector huffed as he straightened up and his gaze turned elsewhere, landing on Brayker’s body. “Smart girl. I won’t tamper with the deal, you have my word.”

“I’ll be yours, right? I’ll stay human… right?”

The Collector nodded. He wasn’t sure which head he was thinking with right now but his eyes never glanced back to the key, instead he focused on your neck. Right where he laid those two kisses. The way your skin felt on his lips will forever be burned in his mind. He was focused on the thought of you taking the deal. The facade crumbled down further when your grip loosened on the key, his eyes flicked back to yours.  

“Yes of course Y/N… Is that a deal?” 

“I get to keep the key.” 

“For now but after our little affair, you hand that over.” He smiled. 

With the lens of fear gone, you were finally able to take him in for what he was: A desperate mess of a man with his nice dress shirt halfway undone exposing his chest. His eyes never left your face while yours took in his form. He was pretty, you thought that when you first saw him and up until he put a hole in one of the officer’s heads. Now? Well, you still find him pretty. 

“Deal.” Your voice wasn’t as shaky as it was before.

The Collector relaxed his body. That was all he needed to hear, he will get the begging out of you later but for now all he wanted was to touch you, to sink his teeth in. He pulled you against his body by your arm that wasn’t currently holding the key. The key was the least of his worries. He didn’t break his focus when you tossed it over to Brayker, it landed on his lap. He grabbed your other arm now free of the thing that could kill him and pulled both up above your head, pinning the wrists to the wall. The Collector’s lips found their way back to your neck, kissing it lightly. He treated you like prized crystal, scared that you might break- He’ll save that for later. 

“See Y/N how easy it was to give into me~ We both wanted this.” His lips traveled to the underside of your jaw while you focused on anything other than Brayker hunched over in the corner. Lifeless but there was an air of disappointment around him still. You clenched your teeth tight and tried to focus on the feeling of the demon’s lips on your skin, his teeth nipping the place where your heart beat the strongest. 

“Do I make you nervous?” He spoke, his breath hot against the newly marked flesh. You didn’t answer as your eyes found their way back to Brayker’s corpse. 

“Does…” He cleared his throat. “Brayker make you nervous?

“I mean.. It feels...” 

“Sacrilegious? Blasphemous? what ?” He whispered in between the many kisses along the most prominent vein you had. 

“Wrong… I mean can we like….not do it in front of a corpse?”

“Baby… The whole motel is stuffed full of them-” He laughed a bit, his mouth leaving your neck as he pulled away to look at you again. He couldn’t get enough of how pretty you were. The grin on his face was prominent. His eyes looked you up and down but they always found their way back to the forming hickeys on your neck, he laughed. “But for you.. I’ll do anything.” 

Right before you the room changed from the tiny attic space with an ashamed Brayker inside to a room you’ve been in before. The one you woke up in this morning, the cheap blankets messily pushed to one side, the pillows flattened, and clothes sprawled all over the floor. The moon slipping in through the opened window provided the only light source. It was also the same room where he first proposed the deal. 

“Better?” 

“Cozy” You said with a soft smile on your face. 

He chuckled at your response as his hands traveled down your body outlining your waist but your hips is where he stopped, his grip tightened there. He licked his lips,  “Good, I want you to enjoy this.” 

“I will.” 

His hands squeezed your hips hard before they continued down, passing your ass but stopping once more on your upper thighs. He grabbed greedy handfuls and lifted you up. He moved you to where he wanted so easily like you weighed nothing. He tossed you onto your unmade bed and then by the bend of your legs he pulled you to the edge. You watched him fall to his knees before you, his eyes roaming your body. If he was to ever pray, Lord knows that you would be in them. 

He was damned, but the taste of your cunt would be the closest thing to god he would ever reach.

“You’re so pretty like this” The words dripped like honey off of his lips. He easily pulled your shorts down and off of you, tossing them on the floor behind him. He looks down, your thighs pressed together to hide the one thing he’s been craving this whole night, he chuckled, “I keep repeating myself huh~” 

“Yeah.” You said, voice shaking as the nerves finally hit you. The way he looked up at you, the grin on his face as wide as ever made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. You pressed your thighs tighter now. 

“Shy?” He asked, rubbing circles into the handprint shaped bruises he left. He enjoyed how soft your skin was. “You weren’t that shy earlier. What happened baby?” 

“Well it’s just that-” 

“Never had a man before?” His hands gently made their way up your legs. 

“No.. uh I have.” 

“Sex before marriage? Demon knight’s are accepting everyone now huh. “ He teased, his hands found their way up to your knees where he pried your legs apart. The collector's eyes landed right on your pussy, the pair of panties you had on were ruined by a wet spot. He licked his lips, grin growing wider. 

He looked back up to see your face buried in both hands, he laughed, “I barely touched you Y/N” 

“Shut up.” Your voice is muffled.

“You want me to shut up, why? Look what only my voice does to your panties. It soaked you completely sweetheart.” He leaned down, his teeth and lips gently brushing along your inner thigh. You peered through your middle and index finger to watch him go lower and that’s where he stopped: You felt his smile against your skin, “I barely touched you YN” 

The embarrassment sent a throb through your pussy. You hated the fact that he was right. 

“I drive you crazy huh? I'm now touching you like this and you’re throbbing! Your little pussy just can’t take it huh.” his voice was low. “I can’t wait to see what happens when I fuck it.” 

He leaned in closer to your covered cunt. He thought the smell of your skin was divine but this was something else entirely. He wouldn’t hold himself back anymore, opening his mouth his tongue giving the wet spot one long lick. He moaned along with you, savoring the taste on his tongue, lips and teeth. He groaned once more and prayed that it would stay. 

He needed the taste of you fully engulfing his senses so his hands made quick work of the thing blocking it; tearing off your panties and tossing them elsewhere. You watched through your fingers as he buried his mouth into your pussy. He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as his tongue swirled around your clit, his hands gripping the meatiest part of your thighs. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, desperately trying to buck your hips but he held you right against his mouth. There he savored each and every part of your pussy. 

He groaned into your cunt openly, the taste of you was worth these hundred years. The pathetic noises from you made his grip tightened on your thighs. He moved your cunt up and down on his expert mouth and he watched how you squirmed. 

Your hands fell to either side of you, digging your nails into the sheets. “Fuck! Oh god fuck! God, I’m gonna cum!” 

With a low chuckle he pulled away, looking up at you with a wicked grin. A loud moan left your throat as two of his thick fingers filled your needy hole. 

“I’m your god now sweetheart~” He worked his fingers against every sweet spot you had, the butt of his palm digging into your throbbing clit. He watched your needy and pathetic thrusts to get his fingers deeper in you. 

“No use praying to something other than me.” He kissed your twitching inner thighs as his fingers grew rougher, fucking hard into your g-spot. The knot in your stomach grew tighter with every kiss and bite he littered on your thigh. He could feel how close you were on his fingers, how you squeezed them tight. 

He smiled, “Cum for me, pretty girl.” 

He felt the muscles in your thighs tensed up under his lips first then the gush of your pussy slicking his fingers. He looked up at you with your eyes rolled back, your hips bucking as you rode out the highest wave of your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” He slowly pulled his fingers out leaving you empty for now. “You did so good.”

He gently lifted you up and stood with you in his arms, holding you close. His lips found their way back to your neck, covering the harsh bites with gentle pecks. You both stayed like that until you calmed down from your high then he sat you down on the floor close to the edge of the bed.

“I made you feel really good didn’t I Y/N?” The collector sat in front of you propped up on his elbows, his legs spread and his dress pants tight. He tilted his head looking down at you, '`Do you want to make me feel that good?’

You swallowed hard as your eyes met with his. ”Yes.” 

“Then you know what you have to do, pretty girl.”

You locked eyes with him as your hands traveled his legs, starting at his calves first. The dress pants were soft and gave you no trouble on the journey up. You felt how muscular he was through them, passing his knees and now going up his thighs. The smile on his face widened and twisted into a grin the closer you got to his throbbing cock, his mouth water seeing your head following close behind. He raised his hand to stop you however seeing yours reaching for the zipper. 

“It would be a waste if you do it with your hands.” He said, pushing his hips up a little. “Do it with your mouth. 

The familiar heat rushed to your face once more as your hands stopped at his upper thighs. You didn’t know which was more embarrassing-  A demon getting you this worked up or the fact that you were now leaning down, following his command like a puppy. Your lips wrapped around the metal zipper and your teeth pinched it. A hand of his wrapped itself up in your hair, keeping a good hold of your head.

“That’s it, beautiful.” 

The sound of the zipper broke the silence between you two, his hand guiding and making you go the slow pace he decided. The collector wanted to sit in this moment longer, he reveled in how he had a demon knight on their knees before him. However you reached the end and spat the metal tag out. You raised your head to look up at him, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“It’s not gonna take itself out”  He chuckled, his thumb stroking your forehead while his other fingers tangled in your hair.  “Come on now.” 

“Stop ordering me around.” You murmured, as your dominant hand slipped into the opening of his pants and boxers. It wrapped around the base of his cock and gently pulled it out: It stood tall, hard and throbbing. Maybe the biggest one you’ve ever seen, not that you were that experienced. 

“I will when you stop liking it.” He playfully snapped back, watching you holding it up by the base, cheeks heating up to a beet red and your mouth hung open. It all sent a throb to his cock but the wait drove him insane. 

“Are you just going to stare or do I have to force you, pretty girl.” His tone was harsh, tightening the grip he had on your hair. 

“Yes sir.” You lowered your head, your tongue poked out of your mouth and gave him a long slow lick to the mushroom head. The sound that left his body was delicious: A soft breathy groan. You almost didn’t hear it at first but now that you did, you needed to pull more sounds out of him. More licks were given to the tip, your tongue trailing along the slit. The sounds coming out of him were pathetic and you wondered how long it had been for him. He lifted his hips, wanting to dip into your mouth for only a second but despite the tight hole he had on your hair- You were in control for now at least.

“Oh fuck~” He spoke inbetween the hot and heavy breaths he was taking. Another groan pushed through them as you gave another lick to his slit. 

You licked your lips before giving wet kisses along the side of his cock. He leaned his head back, the sight of you would be enough to last him another hundred years. He sounded more desperate than he would like to admit but your mouth was heavenly. The extra spit made his cock shine as you made you work back up to his tip. Another groan pushed out of his throat as finally your soft mouth wrapped around his cock. You took him in deeper at your own pace but paused halfway through: Drool dripped down the side of his shaft and pooled at the base of his shaft.

“You’re doing so good, baby. C’mon just a little more~” He moaned, lifting his head to see you drooling on his cock. The sight of it was almost better than the feeling. He then pushed his hips up making the tip hit the back of your throat. You gagged, your mouth constricted on him. 

“I will make you take it all, princess.” He groaned. 

You collected yourself briefly before trying to take him in deeper again. The hand of the back of your head pushed down and you gagged again, his cock thumping the back of your throat. He grunted, his hips bucking a little impatiently. 

“You know you’re gonna take all of me right Y/N?” he grunted out through clenched teeth. It felt great with him halfway down your throat but no, he needed more. He needed to have you gagging and tearing up on his too big of a cock. If this was just a one night thing- he was gonna use all of you. As much as you can or can’t handle. Eventually he began to slide his cock deeper into your throat with you gagging the entire way.

“That’s it baby girl~” He leaned his head back. “Swallow this thick fucking cock.”

You followed his orders to the best of your current situation, swallowing around his cock. You felt it throb in your mouth and his legs buckled. He pulled your head up so he could look at your face.

“Look at you~” He smiled. “You’re doing so good for me. Such a good girl.” 

He pushed your head back down, your throat opening wide for him. Tears brimmed your eyes as he pushed the last few inches deeper, your nose buried deep in his pubic hair. He held you there, groaning lightly. Your throat wrapped tightly around him. This had to be what heaven was. He pulled your head off of his cock, strings of salvia connecting your mouth to it.You took in greedy breaths of fresh air but as fast as you were pulled off of it: You were back with your nose pressed right against his groin, throat filled with his cock, and you felt it throb against your tongue.

“Fuck~”

He thrusted deeply into your mouth and all you could do was take it. Cold tears spilled down your hot cheeks. He moaned loud, his hold on your head only tightened the longer he went on.

“Fuck oh fuck! A little more baby. You can do that, can you?” You could only let out a choked out moan in response, it barely resembled any English but it was enough of a yes for him, “Atta girl.” 

His thrusts became sloppy until he held you right against his groin. The deep moans turned into animalistic sounds resembling the lesser demons from before. His cum flooded your throat, coating it in white. He kept you there, until every drop was in your mouth.

“Swallow all of it.” He ordered, looking down at you. A pretty sight with your eyes watering, face flushed and all of his big cock firmly down your throat. “All of it.” 

“Mhm!” You swallowed around his cock the best you could. He pulled your head off of it slowly, taking in how much drool you covered it in, how you were swallowing every last drop of him. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show it was empty. His hand left your hair and tilted your chin up. You were so pretty like this- ruined. 

He closed the distance between you both, his tongue filled up your mouth. The kiss was slow and gentle, taking his time with you. He gently lifted you up once more, his hands squeezing your sides and he placed you on his lap. He pulled away from the kiss, grinning. A thin strand of spit connecting your mouths, “You’re such a good girl for me.”

You didn’t answer, still catching your breath from earlier. The collector’s hand traveled up your neck and through your hair. He got a good grip and jerked your head  back to make you face the ceiling.  His lips, teeth, and tongue attacked your neck, over the same marking he’s already made. Meanwhile he  manhandled your body, leaving his hand and fingerprints into your soft skin but one found its place digging into the fat of your hip. His free hand however reached down, lining his cock with your entrance. He buried all of his impressive length deep into your pussy, stifling his groans with the marked flesh in his mouth. You felt divine. 

“Oh fuck!” you moaned, hunched over him. The lethal grip on your hips kept you up. He lifted your body and slammed it back down, bottoming you out. His cock reached the deepest part of you, hitting that little bundle of nerves that made you see stars. The squeal that left your lips made him hit it again and again.

“That’s it baby.” He said through gritted teeth, trying to hold back moans and grunts. “Take my fucking cock.” 

You couldn’t think straight as he forced you up and down his cock, his tip pounding into your g-spot each time. Your mouth was opening and drool was slowly dribbling out, landing on his chest.

“Such a good girl~ Letting the demon fuck your innocent little cunt.” He teased, “What would Brayker say? Seeing his precious little Demon Knight getting fucked like a worthless slut?” 

Leaning back, he started thrusting up into you now and watching you hold yourself up by two hands on his chest. His thrusts were brutal. Every slam to your little spot made the knot in your stomach tighter. Your nerves felt like they were lit on fire, and you weren't sure how you were able to hold on this long and neither did he. 

“But such a pretty slut~ with a pretty little pussy~” He cooed, one of his hands left your hips and placed itself on your stomach: his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. He laughed seeing your body twitch and twist around, the knot tighter and tighter. “Is my little demon knight gonna cum?” 

He rubbed a little rougher but it was nothing compared to his thrusts. He kept that brutal pace, your g-spot getting abused. “Go ahead sweetheart. Go on and cum for me.” He ordered, a smile stretching his lips wide. 

Another brutal smack made you see white. The knot bursting and all of the muscles in your body twitching. A scream ripped out of your throat as you fell on his chest, your body shaking while it tried to recover from the intense high. You didn’t see it. Hell, you didn’t even feel it but the amount of juices covering both you and him was embarrassing. The collector slowed down his thrusts. He didn’t want you to pass out at least, not yet. 

He buried his face in hair, now whispering praises into it, “Good job baby. That was a lot huh~ You did so well handling it to the pretty girl.”

He was inhaling the smell of your sweat mixed with the conditioner you used, your perfume and now your cum. He couldn’t get enough of the scent, it drove him wild. He stayed still while you rode out your high.

“Nod your head baby if you’re okay, can you do that for me?” He didn’t raise his voice beyond a whisper, pulling his head back to watch your face. 

You found enough strength to nod and that was all he needed: flipping you both over so now you were on your back, your legs now resting on his broad shoulders. He smiled down at you, “Good girl~ You follow orders so well.” 

You looked so pretty like this: breathing heavy, skin flushed a light pink and covered in his marks. He wanted to push you further. 

“I’m going to put the fear of god in you, pretty-girl.” He chuckled. 

Your body twitched at the threat, staring up at him through half lidded eyes. He slowly kept pumping into your sensitive cunt. “Did I fuck my little baby speechless?”

You opened your mouth to speak but with another rock of his hips it melted into a long moan. His calloused hands roamed and worshiped your overwhelmed body: One finding itself wrapped around your neck, squeezing hard enough to make your head fuzzy. The other hand supported his weight while he loomed over you, grin as wide as ever. 

“Can you speak for me, pretty girl? C’mon speak.” He gave an encouraging nod with each word, eyes studying your face. You opened your mouth and the start of a sentence turned into a slurred mess of words while the hand on your neck squeezed hard. He then buried himself into you fully, watching all of your thoughts melt together. 

“”Don't tell me that you can’t speak. Did I fuck you that stupid?” 

“Fuck… me… please.” You managed to breathe out. A chuckle filled your ears as he shallowly thrusted into you, not wanting to pull out since you felt so nice inside. “Thought you.. Were.. fuck…. Gonna put the fear of god in me..”

Both of you erupted in pathetic moans. as he pulled out entirely and slammed back in, “You want to be ruined huh.. You really want to be fucked into a mess.” He said and another hard thrust punctuated his point. “You’re begging for it.” 

The small motel room was filled with the loud moans he ripped from you. The thrusts were brutal, his pelvis smacking into your clit every time he bottomed out. He was staring down at you, watching your face twist in pleasure, your eyes fluttering before they rolled back. 

“God isn't going to save you when I break you, baby. I hope you know that.” he grunted, “You can try but he wont answer…”

A wicked smirk spread his lips apart, he slowed his thrusts as his face got closer to yours.  “Repeat after me, pretty girl.. Our father who art in heaven.” His voice was nothing more but a breathy whisper, hot against your skin.

You struggled at finding the words with every hard thrust knocking you back into a moaning mess. In due time you able to stutter out, “Our.. fuck.. Father who art.. Ahh oh my god! In heaven!” 

“Hallowed be thy name.” 

, 

your mouth hung open instead of prayers, long moans filled The Collector’s ears. He laughed, “No no no pretty girl. Say your prayer~ What would your little boss think?”

One of his hands rested on your lower belly, his thumb rubbing your clit. God left your mind as well as Brayker, the deal you made, and your friend lying dead in the hotel lobby. A loud moan slurred your words, the knot in your stomach swelling and tightening up.

“Good girl.” He breathed out, burying his face back in your neck. He rubbed harder circles into the swollen nub, “Fuck you feel.. So good.”

He stayed quiet feeling your walls clench every time he fully was inside. It took him a minute to speak again, “Thy kingdom done. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” 

You moaned out what barely resembled the prayer but he rewarded you with another hard thrust, knocking every thought out of your head. The collector finding it hard to get through the praise himself, the way you sucked in him made him see stars. He was able to get it out clear enough for you to understand.

“Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” You could feel the shit eating grin against your neck as he rocked into you, his thrust grew sloppier.

“Deliver us from evil, You hear that babygirl.” He said, his husky voice muffled by your bruised skin that was currently in his teeth, it needed to be a deeper shade of red for him to be content. If this was the only night he would have you then he would simply ruin you for anyone else.. “And you’re letting the evil pound your tight wet… Pussy fuck~! You’re gonna cum huh?” 

“I'm gonna cum!.. Im gonna cum!” You whimpered. The knot tightened up to a point where it was painful but it was all you could think about.

He had you right where he wanted you to stay and he would do anything to keep you both like this. Damn the key. Damn the hundred years he spent chasing after it. It was all worth nothing compared to how good your walls feel squeezing around him. The thrusts were brutal as ever, his cock was soaked and all he could think about was you cumming on it. The noises leaving his throat were other-worldly and it only spurred you on: Fucking yourself against his hard thrusts the best you could.

The muscles in your legs tightened around his lower back.The knot finally snapped and you saw white.

The scream that left your lips was delicious and he only managed a couple more thrusts before pinning his cock deep in you, filling you with his cum. He used his remaining strength to move you both over, him laying on his back with you sprawled out on his chest. 

The two of you stayed like that in silence with him lazily drawing invisible circles on your back and you listening to his heart beat. He lifted his head when you scratched the stars in your palm.

 'Has any of them moved?’

You looked up at him and shook your head. 

He smiled, “You know I wouldn’t mind spending another lifetime chasing you.” 

“So I get to keep the key?”

“For now.”

[regianenascimentooficial]

Part 1: Is every slasher more about love or sex in relationship?

Part 2 Here!

🌹Slashers:

Jason Voorhees / Michael Myers / Pinhead / Vicent and Bo Sinclair / Thomas Hewitt / Bubba Sawyer / Asa Emory.

🌹 Warning:

⚠️ All headcanons have things that minors cannot read! Read at your own risk! ⚠️

🌹🌹GOOD READ! 🌹🌹

🥀With Jason, there wouldn't be as much sex as love. He's not the type who just wants to fuck you. He's the romantic type who, when you least expect it, will always bring you gifts, remember important dates and treat you like a princess. An incurable romantic.

🥀Michael is more of the type who would keep to himself, but romance isn't his thing. But that doesn't take away from the fact that every now and then he wants a little affection. Even if it's just touching your hand. However, when he's on a high after killing, he'll want to fuck you deep and mark his territory. After all, you're his.

🥀A gentleman, but a rascal. He'll treat you like a queen and everything, but don't expect to live forever without feeling the pain and pleasure he can give you. And he expects you to understand that. Outside of four walls, you're the woman of his life who he'll love and be romantic about, inside four walls, he talks and you keep quiet. In rare cases, you can turn the tables.

🥀A romantic bastard, this can be interpreted as how Vincent would treat you. He would be sweet to you and very affectionate, but he wouldn't resist putting his hands on you and moving them down between your legs if necessary or if he was in need. He just looks like a saint...

🥀The opposite of his brother. He's not at all romantic and will fuck you whenever he wants and will be a bore who is always teasing you, but there will be times when he will just want you to lie on the floor with your hands together looking up at the sky and realize that his life was better with you.

🥀Both at the same time. He will love you, care for you, treat you like his little girl. Always worried about you and making sure you're okay. He will always give you gifts from his victims, especially daisies, however, when you see him licking his lips, you know that today he will use you until the bed breaks.

🥀Just like Jason, he won't be the type to have sex a lot. He loves you and wants to take care of you like a doll. Plus, he won't know how to deal with exposing his body. He doesn't like himself and is shy. So, he'll just be by your side and give you affection, food and love.

🥀He knows how to show you love, but for him it's more fun to make you beg for him by calling his name. He'll give you roses and take you to museums and everything related to art, but he'll love making you cum seven times in a row. Seeing you begging and cumming for him makes him record this beautiful specimen that is you.

©REGIANE NASCIMENTO©

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JESSE CROMEANS | CHROMESKULL & ASA EMORY | THE COLLECTOR (Laid to Rest & Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 | The Collector & The Collection)

—

“Romantic Call” (Jesse Cromeans x Fem!Reader x Asa Emory)

| The two of you aren’t supposed to be calling him, he’s busy, but Asa can’t be surprised about you and Jesse pushing his buttons— and Jesse knows for a fact he isn’t too mad either.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, established relationships, smut, porn with some plot, doggy-style, impact play, knife play, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism, competitiveness, polyamorous relationship -married!reader & slight chubby!reader

| Yea, the title is from the Patra song, tho the fic wasn’t inspired by it. (Pic source: Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 & The Collection)

| 2k+ words

Think about it:

Asa’s at a conference. He's interested in some of the new things his peers have done (and utterly disappointed in much more of it) but he’s really growing tired of the bumping.

He’s becoming more and more frustrated at the hordes of people running around without the good sense to watch where the hell they’re going. He developed a headache about two hours into the event and he’s feeling a little too…anxious for the setting.

Asa can keep up a good facade, prides himself on it, but this year’s attendees seem specifically suited to vex him.

He’s sitting now, legs and arms crossed, dour downturn to his lips, and eyes focused squarely on a nasty patch of scars on one of the speaker's hands. The man waves them around religiously so it’s not like they’re hard to track — they’re more interesting than his dragging spiel at least. His words are starting to grate on the last of Asa’s nerves.

At that very moment he’s actually picturing what the little patch of scar tissue would look like sewn into the skin of his forehead. Front and center. It was a nice looking set of destroyed and later rebuilt tissue.

When he feels a buzz in his pocket the man heaves a sigh, brows furrowing.

His phone is set to ‘do not disturb’, because he was a damned professional he could at least pretend to be paying attention, and he knows for a fact the only two people whose messages he set to go through are you and Jesse’s.

He had done it for emergencies only but he has a well based suspicion that the two of you aren’t remotely in any sort of peril.

He won’t admit how welcome the break from all these forgettable people and their pesky droning voices is, but he isn’t too mad about it. He excuses himself silently from the speaker area, not answering until he walks out into the main hall.

─────

“Didn’t I tell you urgent matters only?”

Jesse grins nonplussed at the harsh note of Asa’s question.

“I remember,” he lets the sharp flippant way he signs convey exactly what he thought about that stipulation to Asa before continuing, “but, Y/n, wants to show you something.”

He’s handing off the phone a second later and then you come into view. You hold the device and give him a demure smile, the upturn of your lips as soft as your voice.

“Em,” you greet — and yeah, Jesse knows Asa can’t be too mad at that. The way the creases in his forehead smooth out right after your greeting is proof enough.

“Beetle,” he greets back, sighing. His tone is curt, but one corner of his mouth does tick up in an almost smile. “What's so important you just had to show me?”

Your smile widens a bit more, eyes lighting up, and Jesse rests his hand on the small of your back when you bend over to prop the phone up against the headboard. The way he can feel the shiver going up your spine somehow manages to make him fill out even more, cock throbbing where it’s straining inside the smooth confines of his boxers.

“Just something new,” you propose, resting your head on your folded arms.

You’re both just as scarcely dressed as the other, cool air of the room sliding over your skin and hardening your nipples. Jesse’s blood still warms at the sight you make though. Back arched, ass up at a perfect height for your plush orbs to be aligned with his lowered hips.

At your angle the hand he slides to your ass is also in view of the camera, clear for Asa to see. He squeezes just to provoke the disapproving scowl that flashes across your third’s face.

You yourself laugh at it, airy and melodic, and push into his grip. The fabric of your panties is soft on his palm and he rubs idly over them while his other hand dips a little lower.

“How’s your trip?”

He rubs over the outline of your sex as you speak. The more prominent feel of cloth over your sensitive lips makes you keen and move away, but his hand snaps from your ass to your hip to hold you firm with a strong grip.

“…Interesting,” the entomologist answers after a beat.

Asa sounds irritated all over again and Jesse rolls his eyes. The man goes to a bug convention - his whole damn shtick - and you’d think he’d be living it up, but no. Jesse swears he’s never met someone so committed to being miserable.

He rubs harshly over your clit and you jerk forward.

“So— so not good?”

“Yes,” Asa nods slowly, looking away and tracking something off screen, eyes flaring briefly. “I need something to dissect. Soon, preferably.”

There’s no doubt Asa hasn’t guessed what he’s up to by now but the other man humors you regardless. Sap.

Jesse shifts and a metallic swish reverberates throughout the air. Asa’s eyes snap back to the camera and focus directly on the blade now in his hand. At the same time you twist around to gape at him.

“Eyes,” he signs harshly and you roll yours - he’ll get you for that later - but turn back to watch Asa regardless.

He chuckles, “Is he not being commanding enough, Beetle?”

You make a low upset sound at the words, not confirming or denying them.

“Don’t do that right now…” you murmur. Soft, so very like you.

Your tone is admonishing but both of them ignore you.

Jesse points the glinting blade at the screen where Asa can see it, issuing something like a warning, while using his other hand to pull the sides of your underwear from your body. All Asa does in response is scoff before otherwise backing off. At least for now.

Not wasting anymore time the killer at your back cuts your panties up the sides with jerky irritated movements, throws them to the floor, then places the flat of the blade right against your cunt where the damp curls on your mound act as a thin but plush barrier between your flushed skin and his cool metal. When you freeze the smirk that stretches across his face is mean.

“Jesse—?” You break off with a yelp, him having used the broad expanse of his palm and swung straight for your ass. “Sorry, Boss, I— what are you doing?”

He refuses to answer for a few moments, just watching as you scramble to accommodate the knife with small careful movements.

When Jesse bothers to sign next it’s not even to you.

“You know she argued with me over your surprise?”

One of Asa’s brows raise and his eyes glint with something akin to humor.

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like my Beetle. She didn’t talk back to me the last time I had her all to myself.”

Almost immediately Jesse seems to mock Asa, but by the time you catch him he's only rolling his eyes and is already diverting his attention back to you. The only indication he’d done anything more at all is the irritated scoff Asa gives.

Jesse and you lock eyes through the viewfinder on the screen and he moves the knife from your delicate bits, patting encouragingly at your thigh after putting the custom blade back into its hiding place. Silently you heed his command, pushing yourself to your knees while Jesse himself straightens to his full height in accordance with you, hiding both of your heads from Asa’s view.

After that all the two of you have to do is wait.

Jesse listens aptly for the faint intake of breath from Asa, smiling alongside you when you both hear it. Though you're the only one near vibrating with your poorly contained laughter, so excited your eyes are glittering.

On full display on the meat of your upper thigh, front and center, is a well defined skull with iridescent green beetle wings sprouting from behind it. The green and shimmer pops out beautifully on your dark skin because Jesse’d paid for an artist that wasn’t full of shit; the best money could buy in the area.

Jesse hums, grins sharp, and grazes his thumb lightly over the day-old tattoo before moving so that he can squeeze the back of your thigh with that same hand. Even grimacing your breath still hitches and you groan.

Asa’s gaze is locked fully onto your leg. He swallows thickly, his mouth opening slightly but no words coming out for more seconds than is his usual. Jesse’s grin gets worse.

The other clears his throat, something a little feral in his gaze. “It’s…lovely,” he praises, and has to clear his throat again and fight to school the arousal from his features in real time.

It was times like these Jesse almost wished he could cackle out loud.

“Mhm,” you mumble happily. Jesse bends down to kiss at your throat and you drop your head against his shoulder to give him better access. “I’m glad— ah,” you gasp as Jesse nips at your pulse, “I’m really glad you like it.”

You press yourself back into him with a shudder, thick coils brushing over his shoulder, and rake your stilettoed nails up his back hard enough to make his breath catch.

When you grind down he chuckles before turning your head so you can watch him sign.

“Needy are we?”

You huff, lashes fluttering against the tops of your umber cheeks.

“You’re taking forever, can you blame me? Will you please fuck me already? Please, Boss?” You blink up at him, pouting. “I need it.”

His cock jumps where it’s pressed on the delicate inside of your thigh and when you moan again he can’t find it in himself to deny either of you anymore. Not with his mark on you and those pleas falling past your plush lips.

You’re as receptive as ever when he falls into you, desperate and wanting, and making very good on your promise to let him “claim” you some more once you both got back from the tattoo shop.

Large hands tight on your plush hips he fucks into you just as desperately. Deep strokes that jolt you forward and have the head of his cock hitting gold every few thrusts.

Jesse grunts deep, leaning over you and bringing his scarred face closer to yours so he can look you in the eyes when you start incoherently babbling his praises. He doesn’t even have to prompt you to open them either, your lashes are damp as you meet his dark gaze the second he flattens his front to your back, and you mewl.

The two of you clash with a kiss, sloppy and barely coordinated, all lips and tongue and teeth, but he has no doubt the vision you make is affecting your audience of one. Passingly hopes that Asa’s currently sporting a hard on in front of all those academics and silently mortified by the sheer unprofessionalism.

Jesse shudders, gasps and moans silent, before pulling away and forcing your head down and your ass up. He can’t help but slap the fat of your ass and revel in the yelp you give him in response.

He’s at an even better angle now though and pistons into you hard enough to ache in the way you like complaining about even though it gives you just the excuse you want to be pampered. When your cute happy whimpers and choked moans strengthen he knows he’s well on his way to winning your orgasm and that small look on your face post coitis when you're exhausted and clingy.

It doesn’t take long after that for you to start zoning out and it takes him less than a blink to redirect his next slap to the side of your face. The startled noise you gift him quickly transforms into a deep recked moan and Jesse pounds into you even harder.

You focus back on Asa with the prettiest set of bright brown eyes, dark orbs sparkling with your tears unshed and shed alike.

“Fuck, Em,” you gasp.

“Does it feel good, Beetle? Do you like how he feels in you?”

Jesse watches your eyes roll as he rams the head of his cock into where he knows your g-spot is.

“Y-yea, yeah I do. Fucking,”— you sob—“love when he fucks my greedy cunt.”

“Mm,” Asa nods, face impassive and tone flat, but his attention glued to you. “I bet you do.”

When your eyes roll back again, your pussy clenching tight around Jesse, he can’t help but laugh through a moan of his own. The look his sometimes rival is throwing him is absolutely priceless. It promises something like a struggle when the other gets back.

You loved to watch them go at it, and per your request whoever won their little spats got to take you home during your week off. He’d lost last time but he hadn’t stopped thinking about how to get back at Asa for it.

He’d rather Princess come back from the dead and actually finish him off or Preston take over his business than admit to Asa that the loss grated. You were his wife, occasional threesomes be damned. While he held firm that week on his side of the bet, even reassuring you that it was honestly fine to go indulge yourself in Asa and The Collectors' whims, he still wanted to wipe the smug look off his buddy’s face.

Jesse would win. Even if he had to make you squirt all over your goddamn phone to do it.

He watches the arousal flit across Asa’s face every time you’re too distracted to notice, and how he grinds his teeth to tamp it down before you or anyone at the convention can see.

It’s fucking golden. And it doesn’t take the killer long after that to aim for making sure that he can ruin Asa’s life for the next two days he’s away. Rub it in his face that he won’t be able to get his hands on your dewy heated skin or get the brunt of the reverent look you give Jesse through the camera when he brings the knife back out, spinning it with a flourish.

Jesse would have you screaming pretty for him in no time, and the other man suffering all the more for it.

There was a reason why you didn’t (especially considering how much it riled Jesse up) call Asa anything but his fucking name in Jesse’s bed — not Professor or Prof, not his moniker, nothing — and he was going to remind the other man all about that regardless of the murderous glare he kept giving him.

Jesse pulls nearly all the way out, waits for you to whine at him and makes sure Asa can see how you continue to try pressing back on his cock despite him holding you back, then grinds his length back into your soaked cunt in one long thrust. Soaks in the drawn out way you call him Boss — not Jesse — and how you rush to thank him for fucking back into you, and bares his teeth at the burning look Asa gives him.

You start to shudder when he holds the knife to your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and his fingers burrow into your plush cloud of hair to keep your head still as he can. You let him without complaint. Asa’s eyes flash and, barely audible though it may be, Jesse can feel the snarl rumbling up his chest as the squelching sounds of your cunt grow louder and you start fucking back onto him hard enough to bruise.

Yeah he was fucking winning.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

My smut writing abilities are so-so, but I tried. This is also my first time writing both a threesome of any sort, and Jesse and Asa’s dynamic, so hopefully everything registers well.

I had some slight complications so this is a repost, but I doubt anyone even saw the original bar one person so….

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[torturedbrat]

✧ ۪۪My TH Collection.

+ Sneak peak of some of my posters.

I'm still trying to grow out my collection a bit more, even though I'm pretty proud of it. I still want the humanoid version in German, though I can't find it anywhere sadly! and the 2001 album, then I'll be more than happy.

By the way, most of it I got it off Vinted!

— If you don't have that option, there's a few resellers on Amazon too :)

[hoe4hotchner]

Unpaid Balance

Pairing: Debt collector!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Words: 5k

Warnings: 18+, dark nature, the mob, Spencer is evil in a weirdly sexual way, hair yanking, maybe it counts a little as waterboarding reader's head is submerged in water for a second or two, fingering, kissing? Dom/sub dynamic, Sex is there but not described that well, Teasing, Hunter x prey dynamic, fear, fainting.

I think that's it but let me know if I missed something.

A/N: I'M BACK BITCHES!!!! I made myself so feral writing this, what the fuck. Also, Rossi makes an apperance :)

"You can't hide from me forever! There's nowhere to run." His voice echoed through the nearly empty warehouse, a chilling reminder of the footsteps that drew closer with every passing second. You regretted sneaking in here, realizing too late that hiding from him was the worst decision you could have made. His taunting voice carried a sinister edge, and you could almost picture the smirk tugging at his lips. All of this because you answered your phone this morning. You kicked yourself mentally for being so stupid, you knew better, but now wasn’t the time for that. You needed to find a way out of here.

It all started this morning. You knew time was running out. The stack of letters piling up in the mail painted a grim picture, one you desperately wished you could escape. The bank had sold your debt weeks ago to the most notorious collectors in the city, and how you'd managed to stay off their radar for this long was a mystery. But the moment your phone rang, dread settled in your stomach—you knew you’d messed up royally when you mindlessly answered the call.

"Ah, Miss (L/N), I'm glad to reach you finally." His voice was smooth, almost soothing, the kind of voice you could listen to for hours if the circumstances differed. But this wasn't a podcast, and Spencer Reid was far from a comforting presence. There was an unsettling familiarity in his tone, despite never having met him before. You knew exactly who he was and that was the problem.

"Well, If that's how you'd like to play-" You quickly cut off the call, knowing fully well that you were in deep trouble now. If only the bank had sold your files to anyone else, you would've been able to survive, but this was truly the worst outcome you could think of. Not even five minutes passed by before the buzzer rang. Panic surged through you, your heart racing faster than you thought possible. You felt sick, your vision blurring as his words echoed in your mind. It had to be him at the door.

With no time to waste, you bolted for the fire escape, scrambling down and out onto the street. You ran, pushing yourself to move faster, not daring to look back. But curiosity got the better of you. You glanced over your shoulder and there he was—Spencer, standing calmly at the end of the street, hands in his pockets, his black suit making him look even more imposing. He was too calm, given your desperate flight. He gave you a slight nod before getting into his car as if this were all just a game to him. Panic surged again, and you kept running, taking the first turn you saw, desperately trying to shake him off your tail.

Somehow the streets seemed empty, almost too empty, something was wrong and you knew it. Your steps echoed through the streets as you made your way further and further away from him, or so you hoped. Despite the sun brightly lighting up the sky, each step you took seemed to guide you further and further into darkness.

The sound of a car door slamming yanked your attention, and you knew instantly that Spencer was close. His disapproving tutting echoed down the street, a harsh reminder of your failed escape. Spinning around, you spotted his towering shadow cast ominously against the building at the next street corner. Without a second thought, you darted back the way you came, barely dodging an oncoming car. There was no time to heed the rules of the road—stopping could mean getting caught, and you weren't about to lose everything without a fight. Determination surged through you as you sprinted down the street, your heart pounding with every step.

Somehow, you found yourself in a narrow alley with no way out except to retrace your steps. Just when you thought you were done for, the sound of footsteps drew closer again. As if answering a desperate prayer, you spotted a tiny opening in the wall, partially obscured by wooden planks. It looked like a tight squeeze, but it was your only chance. You dashed toward the gap and threw yourself behind a dumpster, clawing your way through the narrow space. The rough edges of the broken planks scratched at your arms, sending stinging pain through your skin. You gave yourself a quick once-over, checking for any serious injuries, before realizing that you’d only traded one danger for another. You had squeezed into one of the abandoned warehouses near the docks, and now you were even more trapped.

You were far from home, no familiarity whatsoever in these corners of the city. The silence was loud, dripping water splattering onto the floor filled your ears as you scanned through the building to find a hiding spot. He couldn't be far away. You had a hunch that Spencer knew this city better than you, wondering just how many people had been in your situation before. How many people have experienced the sheer amount of fear that his voice shocked your system with?

Despite being nearly empty, there were still a few scattered remnants of activity: old wooden crates piled in one corner, a rusted metal shelving unit leaning precariously against a wall, and a cluster of large, dusty tarps draped over what looked like abandoned machinery.

Behind the crates, there was just enough space to squeeze into a narrow gap, shielded from view by the stacked boxes. The shelves, though unstable, provided a potential hiding spot if you were careful not to make a sound—one wrong move, and the whole thing could come crashing down over you. The tarps were the most tempting option, covering enough ground to allow you to slip beneath them and blend into the shadows they cast, but they blocked your vision. Each hiding spot had its risks, but they were your best chance to stay hidden in this desolate place.

You decided on the crates, quickly squeezing into the narrow gap behind them. The smell of dust and old wood filled your nostrils as you settled into the shadows, your heart pounding in your chest. You could just barely see through the slats in the crates, giving you a limited view of the warehouse floor.

Moments later, a figure appeared in the dim light of what must've been the main entrance to the building. He strolled in with a casual confidence that sent a chill down your spine, his silhouette tall and imposing. As he moved further into the warehouse, he began to whistle—a slow, haunting melody that echoed off the walls. The sound was unnervingly cheerful, completely at odds with the tension that crackled in the air.

"You can't hide from me forever! There's nowhere to run." His voice echoed through the nearly empty warehouse, a chilling reminder of the footsteps that drew closer with every passing second.

You held your breath, trying to stay as still as possible, peering through the slats to keep an eye on him. The melody continued like a twisted lullaby, it made your skin crawl. Spencer’s head swiveled slightly as if he was listening for any hint of movement, his pace unhurried as he drew closer to the crates.

Every instinct screamed at you to stay hidden, to remain perfectly still, but the fear gnawing at you was almost unbearable. Spencer’s whistling filled the empty space, making the warehouse seem even more desolate, even more inescapable.

Your muscles ached from staying so still, but you forced yourself to remain motionless, watching Spencer’s every move through the slats in the crates. His whistling continued, the eerie melody twisting in your mind. You tried to control your breathing, to keep it slow and quiet, but fear had a way of making even the smallest actions feel impossible.

Just as you shifted slightly to ease the tension in your legs, your foot brushed against a loose piece of wood. The small creak it made seemed deafening in the silence, and your heart skipped a beat as Spencer’s whistling abruptly stopped. The sudden quiet was more terrifying than the sound itself.

Spencer paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if he’d heard something. You could see his eyes narrowing, his focus sharp as he scanned the warehouse. You held your breath, praying he would dismiss the noise as just the old building settling. But instead, he started moving again, slower this time, his eyes sweeping the area around the crates.

Then, just as you thought he might pass by, Spencer suddenly changed direction, heading toward a spot where you couldn’t see him through the slats. Panic surged through you—if you couldn’t see him, you couldn’t anticipate his next move. You strained to hear, but the warehouse was filled with overpowering silence, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

You remained frozen, every nerve on edge, until suddenly you felt a hand seize a fistful of your hair. Pain shot through your scalp as your head was yanked back, forcing you to look up. There he was, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and filled with a twisted amusement. The smirk you had dreaded seeing was there, curling at the corner of his lips as he stared down at you, triumphant.

“Found you,” he whispered, his voice low and menacing, sending a fresh wave of terror through your body.

Your breath hitched in your throat, panic flooding your senses, overwhelming every rational thought. The room began to spin, the edges of your vision blurring as the reality of your situation closed in on you. Spencer’s grip tightened, his smirk deepening as he watched the fear consume you.

Your heart pounded erratically, each beat growing fainter as a cold sweat broke out across your skin. The world around you faded, the warehouse and Spencer’s terrifying presence becoming distant, shadowy shapes. You could hear his voice, low and mocking, but it sounded far away as if submerged underwater.

Then, all at once, the fear became too much. Your body couldn’t take it anymore. Darkness crept in from the edges of your vision, and before you could register what was happening, your eyes rolled back, and everything went black.

“Guess it’s time for you to meet the boss,” he murmured, his words laced with cruel amusement as you started slipping. The last thing you felt was the cold, unforgiving floor as your body slumped forward, unconscious, completely at the mercy of the man who had hunted you down.

You were jolted awake by the sudden, shocking cold of your head being plunged into a bucket of water. Panic surged through you as you flailed, gasping for air when you were finally pulled out, only to be hoisted off the floor by two large men. Your body was weak, limbs heavy from fear and exhaustion, as they dragged you across the room. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, but the disorientation lingered.

When your eyes finally focused, you found yourself in a dimly lit office. The centerpiece of the room was a massive wooden desk, polished to a dark sheen. Behind it sat Rossi, the mob boss, lounging in a big leather chair that looked close to a throne. He was idly playing with the rings on his fingers, twisting them around as if deep in thought, though his cold eyes were fixed on you. His presence was commanding, exuding power with every casual movement. He leaned back, observing you with cold, calculating eyes.

Spencer was there too, standing behind the desk, his eyes not on Rossi but on you. He seemed relaxed, casually admiring the various knick-knacks that decorated the shelves behind the boss. But something was unsettling in the way his gaze kept drifting back to you, lingering a little too long. His dark eyes were filled with a growing hunger, a lust that made your skin crawl. As he licked his lips, you could feel his desire radiating off him in waves, and it made your stomach turn.

Rossi’s voice cut through the tension in the room, smooth and authoritative. He spoke about the debt you owed, laying out macabre options for repayment, each more horrifying than the last. His tone was casual, almost bored as if he were discussing mundane business rather than your fate. But despite his nonchalant demeanor, Rossi was not one to miss anything. He noticed the way Spencer's gaze was fixed on you, the way his lips curled in anticipation.

Without breaking his stride, Rossi’s sharp eyes flicked to the two henchmen holding you. “Take her away,” he ordered, his voice calm but commanding. “Lock her up in the back room.”

The henchmen didn’t hesitate, dragging you out of the office and down a dark corridor. Fear absorbed you as you realized what was coming next. As they pulled you further away, the last thing you heard was Rossi’s voice, low and authoritative, addressing Spencer.

“She’s all yours, boy.”

The words echoed in your mind as the door slammed shut behind you, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room, with only the sound of your rough breathing to keep you company.

What felt like hours had passed since you were thrown into the dim, cold room. The only light came from a small, grimy window high up on the wall, barely large enough to squeeze through. Desperation gnawed at you as the reality of your situation set in. You couldn’t just sit here and wait for whatever plans Spencer had in store for you.

With renewed determination, you climbed onto the rickety table beneath the window and started pounding on the glass with your fists. The sound echoed in the small space, but the window refused to give. Frustration and fear fueled your efforts, each strike harder than the last until your hands ached and your hope began to weaken.

Then, just as you were about to strike again, a voice, smooth and taunting, cut through the silence. “You really think that’s going to work?”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you turned to see Spencer standing in the doorway. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that same unsettling, predatory gaze. His presence filled the room with an oppressive weight, and your heart sank as you realized how long he might have been standing there, silently observing.

Your eyes flicked to the open door behind him, Spencer instinctively followed your gaze, as you calculated the distance, wondering if you could make a run for it. But before you could move, Spencer’s lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “The guards are right outside. You wouldn’t get two steps before they'd drag you back.”

He stepped inside the room, locking the door behind him with a soft click that sent a shiver down your spine. The sound was final, cutting off any last hope of escape. Spencer’s eyes were fixed on you as he slowly closed the distance between you, each step deliberate, predatory.

When he was close enough, he reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His grip was firm, fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you flinch. His face was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and the power in his eyes was almost painful.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, as if savoring every word. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, a mockingly tender gesture that only made the situation more terrifying. “You belong to me now.”

Until now, your fear and the dim lighting through the streets had kept his features in shadow, but with him this close, every detail became starkly clear.

He was tall, standing over you with an imposing presence that seemed to fill the entire room. His brown eyes, sharp and intense, locked onto yours with an unsettling focus. There was a calculating glint in those eyes as if he was dissecting every aspect of your fear and desperation. His stubble was neatly groomed, giving him a rugged, but carefully maintained look. It was clear that he put thought into his appearance, despite the rough edge it conveyed.

His hair was curly, styled in a way that looked effortlessly messy but was clearly intended to appear that way. It was a deliberate disarray, a chaotic yet tidy arrangement that only added to his imposing aura. The overall effect was one of calculated carelessness—a style that spoke of someone who was both meticulous and unapologetically confident.

You found yourself unable to look away, forced to take in every detail of his face as he studied you with that predatory smirk. The harsh lines of his stubble, the casual sweep of his curls, the sharpness in his gaze—it all added up to a man who was in control, a man who was used to getting what he wanted. The realization of how meticulously he crafted his appearance only heightened your sense of dread. This was not just a random enforcer; he was someone who took pride in his role, someone who thrived on the power he held over others.

"I… I'm not scared of you." You stuttered, although your heart was racing. You tried to appear in control of the situation, yet you weren't.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “You know,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing purr, “it’s not just about fear. There’s something else I can sense.”

You shivered at his words, the combination of his tone and the physical closeness making your pulse race. Spencer’s thumb brushed lightly over your lips, the touch surprisingly gentle yet filled with a predatory intent. He knew exactly how to push your buttons, to make you squirm without ever laying a hand on you.

His lips curled into a smirk as he continued, his voice a seductive whisper. “It’s almost like you’re enjoying the attention. Isn’t that interesting?”

Your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and confusion, the intense gaze from his eyes only amplifying your discomfort. His teasing manner was almost more torturous than if he had been more overt. The way he spoke made it clear he was playing a game, one where your emotional reactions were the reward.

Spencer leaned back slightly, giving you a moment of peace before leaning in again, his face close enough that you could see the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, almost sympathetically, “this is just the beginning. I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

He stepped back, still holding your chin firmly but allowing you some space. The smirk on his face was unmistakable—he was reveling in the control he had over you. The room seemed to close in as you were left to process his words, the heat in your cheeks a testament to the psychological game he was playing.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. “You’re so easy to read,” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I can see the way you react to every little touch, every word.”

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from your chin down to your collarbone, each movement designed to provoke. The sensation was both electric and maddening, his touch lingering just long enough to drive you wild. He seemed to take pleasure in your reactions, savoring the way you tensed and shivered under his touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice a tantalizing tease. The question was rhetorical, meant to deepen your sense of helplessness. His eyes remained locked on yours, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

Spencer’s touch moved to your shoulders, his fingers grazing the skin with a feathery lightness that was almost unbearable. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his body, a constant reminder of the command he held over you.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued to speak in that same low, seductive tone. “You’re not going to get any relief from me unless you let me see exactly what I want to see. Until then, I’ll just keep playing.”

Spencer’s smirk widened as he continued to test the boundaries of your resolve. His fingers, which had been exploring the more exposed areas of your skin, moved with deliberate intent. He leaned in closer, the heat of his breath mingling with the growing sense of vulnerability you felt.

His hand drifted lower, and you felt a jolt of anxiety as his fingers brushed against the waistband of your pants. The touch was teasing, a reminder of how completely he had taken control of the situation. His movements were slow and calculated, each brush against your skin designed to provoke a reaction.

You flinched as his hand inched past the waistband, the action crossing a boundary that made your heart race. Spencer’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he felt the fabric of your underwear beneath his fingertips, his touch both maddeningly faint and unsettlingly deliberate.

“Just a little closer,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I want to see how much you can take.”

The sensation was overwhelming, creating a surge of conflicting emotions—fear, discomfort, and a desperate need for relief. Spencer seemed to revel in the control he had, his touch a constant reminder of how he could manipulate your reactions.

His hand lingered just enough to make you squirm, every brush of his fingers designed to heighten your sense of exposure. He maintained a close proximity, his face only inches from yours, ensuring that you were fully aware of his dominance.

As he continued his teasing exploration, his gaze never left yours, studying your reactions with a predatory focus. The psychological impact of his actions was evident in the way he played with your sense of control, leaving you trapped in a whirlwind of emotions and tension.

Without warning, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. His kiss was insistent, a claim that spoke of his control and authority. His lips moved over yours with a fierce hunger, as if he was trying to consume every part of you. The kiss was both intense and electrifying, a physical manifestation of the power he held over you.

You felt a mix of helplessness and intrigue as his kiss deepened, his dominance apparent in the way he controlled the pace and intensity. His hands roamed over your body with an assertive confidence, making it clear that he was in charge of this moment. The kiss left you breathless, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of his passion.

But as the kiss continued, something shifted in Spencer’s demeanor. His initial control and dominance seemed to give way to a more primal urgency. He pulled back abruptly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with a mix of frustration and desire.

In a sudden, almost desperate motion, Spencer seized you by the waist and threw you onto the bed behind him. The movement was rough, almost as if he couldn’t contain the intensity of his emotions any longer. You landed on the bed with a jolt, the impact leaving you momentarily stunned.

Spencer stood over you, his chest heaving, the earlier dominance in his gaze replaced by a raw, unrestrained desire. He looked down at you with a mixture of frustration and need, his body tense as he tried to regain control of the situation. The shift from controlled passion to uncontrollable urgency was palpable, leaving both of you in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension and the aftermath of the intense kiss.

He undressed with a practiced ease, his gaze never leaving you. The room was filled with a tense silence as he removed his shirt, then his belt, his movements methodical yet charged with an underlying urgency. His actions were slow and deliberate, each piece of clothing discarded adding to the intensity of the moment.

As he finished undressing, Spencer’s gaze remained locked on you, a mix of desire and dominance evident in his eyes. He approached the bed with a purposeful stride, his confidence unmistakable. The sight of him, now fully exposed and moving with a mix of control and raw desire, only heightened the tension in the room.

Spencer crawled onto the bed, his movements predatory and deliberate. He positioned himself above you, his body pressing down with a commanding presence. His touch was firm but carefully controlled as he began to undress you. His fingers moved with skilled ease, undoing buttons and slipping fabric from your body with a mix of precision and urgency.

Each movement was calculated to assert his dominance, his hands brushing over your skin with a mix of intent and intimacy. His eyes were focused, studying your reactions as he worked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he took in the effect of his actions.

Despite the forcefulness of the moment, there was a clear sense of control in Spencer’s actions. He took his time, savoring the power he held over you, ensuring that every touch and movement was calculated to maintain his dominance.

“You look incredible,” Spencer murmured, his voice a low, sultry growl. His fingertips traced a deliberate path from your collarbone down to the edge of your waist. “Absolutely breathtaking.” He moaned.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice barely a whisper. “What are you—”

Before you could finish, Spencer silenced you with a fierce, demanding kiss. His lips moved against yours with a heated haste, his hands roaming over your body with a mixture of tenderness and assertiveness. His touch was electric, sending waves of sensation through you as he explored every curve.

When he pulled back, his gaze was intense, almost searching.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I need to hear it.” Your heart pounded as you met his gaze, the vulnerability of the moment making it difficult to find the right words.

“I want… I want you,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and fear. Tears threatened to fall from the mix of confusing emotions.

Spencer’s smirk widened, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction.

You responded to his touch, your body arching and shifting beneath him. The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of your connection, each movement and kiss amplifying the sensation of being completely and utterly desired.

When Spencer finally eased himself into you, his movements were measured and deliberate. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of passion and concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with genuine care. You nodded slowly unable to form any words, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

He began to move with a steady rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate. His eyes never left yours, studying every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. “You feel incredible,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “I’m never going to get tired of this.”

As the rhythm between you and Spencer grew more intense, the room seemed to pulse with the energy of your shared experience. Every touch, every kiss, and every movement was charged with a profound sense of connection and desire. The air was thick with anticipation, and the world outside felt like it had faded into a distant echo.

Spencer’s movements became more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched your every reaction. His hands gripped your body with a mix of tenderness and need, guiding you through the waves of pleasure that were building with each passing second.

“Look at me,” Spencer said, his voice a low, commanding whisper.

You locked eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze mirroring the intensity of your emotions. The pressure inside you grew, a rising tide of sensation that made it hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure. Your breaths came faster, each gasp and moan a testament to the climax that was building.

With a final, deep thrust, the release hit you like a tidal wave. The pleasure surged through you, a powerful crescendo that left you gasping and trembling. Your body arched in response, the intensity of the moment overwhelming your senses. Spencer’s grip tightened as he held you close, his own release following closely behind.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his voice soft as he pulled you into his embrace. You nodded.

As the room settled into a quieter, more intimate atmosphere, Spencer's intense gaze remained fixed on you. His breathing was heavy, but his demeanor shifted slightly, a subtle return to the commanding presence he had exhibited earlier.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes still smoldering with a mix of satisfaction and dominance. “Good,” he said, his voice a low, throaty rumble. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

You looked up at him, your breaths coming in soft, shaky gasps. The intensity of the moment was still fresh in your mind, but Spencer’s words brought a new layer of complexity to the encounter. His smirk held a touch of the predatory edge that had marked his earlier actions.

“Because,” Spencer continued, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone, “you still have a lot of debt to pay.”

His words hung in the air, their impact as sharp as the bite of his earlier touches. The shift in his tone was stark, the reminder of your precarious situation a jarring contrast to the intimacy you had just shared. It was clear that, despite the physical and emotional connection between you, the underlying reality of your debt and his control over you was never far from his mind.

“You think this is over?” he asked with a chuckle, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied your reaction. “This was just part one of the payment. You owe more than that.”

The reality of his words hit you with a mix of dread and resignation. The pleasure you had experienced seemed to clash with the reminder of your situation. Spencer’s dominance was evident not only in his actions but in the way he asserted his control over your circumstances once again.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m going to make sure you understand exactly what it means to be in debt to me,” he whispered. “This is just the beginning.”

Thumbs up to you for making it this far ;)

[urlocalcookie]

You said in one of your archivists post that you would write a smut fic? If so I would DIE to read it

Hi HI HI!!

I actually wrote one a while ago out of boredom! I'll dig it up out of my notes app just for you 😋

"Oof! Oughff! Ouff! A-Ah!" You panted and whimpered.

"Louder." The archivist growled in your ear.

"Ahhh... ahhah.. ah.. o-oh.." You whimpered.

"LOUDER!" The archivist scolded you.

"Ack! Ack! Ack! A-Ah! Ow.. oh... oh.. f-f-! Oh! Oh my g-gosh! Ohh, k-keep going! Please! Ahh.. Oomf.. you feel s-so- Ack! Good!" You moaned.

The archivist penetrated your womanhood over and over. They were going a decent pace. They were uncomfortably large. When you were explaining that they needed to be bigger than literally just... an inch, they jumped to about a foot long and incredibly thick. You begged them to make it about seven inches and like... three inches thick, they finally complied.

As of right now, they were grasping your hips tightly and shoving their length in and out. They picked up the pace and made themself bigger again. You were quick to notice and begged them to stop stretching you like this.

"You can take it. I know you can." They said.

You arched your back to make it easier for them to continue thrusting into you.

You moaned louder and louder as they sped up and slammed against the back of your hole. You were being fucked by them in a spoon position. You were both lying on your sides, but he was hugging you from behind and intruding.

"Ohh, fuck! Ahh... you feel amazing!" You wailed.

The archivist cackled going harder. They had never felt something like this. They wouldn't admit it, but, they were starting to understand why mortals enjoy banging.

"Oh, y-you- OH! OHH!" They cackled.You took this as a sign they were going to experience their climax.

"I'm- I'ma- I'm- s-something's-! Ohoho!" They laughed, shoving it in harder and harder.

You reached down, touching yourself. "C-Can we... please-?"

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna- I'm gonna-!" They stammered.

"WAIT! IT WON'T FEEL GOOD!" You shouted, trying to reach back and grab them. They didn't listen, they kept pounding you. You needed to say something to grab their attention. "I've- I'VE BEEN LYING TO YOU! I LIED!"

"What?" They suddenly halted, but remained inside you.

You panted, "S-Sorry, I had to get your attention somehow." You tried to take a breather.

They ignored your statement. "Lied about what?"

"Nothing! I just needed you to stop for a second and that's what I could think of!" You said.

They stared into you from behind. You could feel their eyes burning into you.

"I was trying to tell you that it won't feel as good if we don't climax at the same time. I'm trying to help you." You panted.

They stared at you for a bit. "Aren't I fucking you? I'm breeding you hard. I can do it harder if you'd like."

"No, it's not that. I... need stimulation on my clit."

They looked over your shoulder and tilted their head. "Huh.." they then chuckled sadistically. "Okay~" they waved their hand and you saw something bright pink glow down there and-

You shrieked and moaned, twitching everywhere. There was so much stimulation on your clitoris, it felt like you were stuck on the edge of six orgasms. "Ah! Ah! Ah! N-Now fuck me! It-It'll feel good!"

And just like that, the archivist cackled and shoved themself in and out of you.

You flexed your muscles around his length and came. You clamped down on them incredibly hard. They cackled and shoved themself in and out.

"I'm coming~!" They cooed in your ear.

Their hot seed shot into you. You clamped down again, sighing. "Ahh..."

"Ohh.... ahhh.." They sighed, then cackled again. "Oh, that felt... weird. I like it." They said.

"P-Please... t-take the stimulation away... please... I'll be so good for you." You begged.

Surprisingly, you felt their dick twitch inside you. They did get turned on by begging!

The stimulation on your clit ceased. You sighed shakily. You reached down and touch it to feel how sensitive it was. It was incredibly overstimulated and painfully sensitive. You whined.

"Eheh, something wrong~?" They teased.

"It... umph... j-just thrust a bit more... ride out your orgasm.." You said.

They hesitated once more, but started bucking their hips. You sighed, moaning softly. It felt nice. He sighed as well, then stopped."I'm bored of this." They declared. "Are we done?"

"Yeah." You panted. You felt them practically rip it out of you, leaving you empty. You yelped at the suddenness of it.

You rolled over and gripped to them, burying your face in his chest. "I love you." You murmured.

They chuckled sadistically, "I love you too, fairy."

You fell asleep in their arms. For once, they didn't try to get up and leave you a sweaty, trembling mess. They actually stayed.

The last thing you felt before dozing off, was their hand petting the back of your head, their sharp nails lightly grazing you each time.

I hope y'all enjoyed 😈

[msneedful-ispleaseful]

A True Monarch

CW: Manipulation, religious corruption, religious sexualization (?), blasphemies,

A/N: This is my first time writing for Asa Emory, this will be written in 3rd POV and always, send in a ask<3

The church bells chimed in a beautiful synchronization, and every young girl ran around the aisles of 2-foot-long mahogany wood benches, tripping and scraping their ankles with carpet burn due to the white dresses with a big bow tied in the back.

Every teen girl wore their hair in braids with flower pins, and knee-length dark blue dresses, the fabric appearing silk, each one looking after a smaller child.

On the other hand, the young adult women wore mid-thigh thick black dresses with a big bow on the front, they were in a variety of styles, and the church was essentially, bustling with many groups of busy females.

They were told to make the sanctuary cathedral into utter perfection, why? well, the pastor's one and only son would be in attendance today. Many older women rumored it would be the prodigal son's first return since he was 15, well the age varied, but one thing was sure, he had been gone for a long time due to his refusal of the church in which his father so passionately believed, it was unknown as to why his return was now and so sudden, but you simply thought, who needs an excuse to come home?

Every Nun stood out front, the chimes of the bells increasing rapidly letting you know the guest was now arriving, everyone settled onto a bench until each one was filled, and then you, the First Lady of the cloth, and Pastor Emory walked outside to greet the Pastors son..

"What did you say his name was again?" you ask the pastor as you two stroll down the cobblestone pathway, your hands shake and your palms feel sweaty with nerves, you feel the pressure to impress since after all you were the standard of a perfect lady here.

Knowing every bible passage by age 10, being a choir member, a volunteer for the children, being baptized at 15, sworn to celibacy at 17, and joining the ladies of the cloth at just 20 was a huge achievement along with ranking your way to the top of the pyramid, you succeeded every expectation of a female cloth member, now the first woman to be the First lady of the cloth at only 22.

You were prized by the entire Christian community. "His name is Asa, don't fear his unusual views on our way of life" The pastor warns you in a smooth tone with a hand on the point between your shoulders.

"Yes, father, I have been made aware that your son does not belive in our one and true god." You are mature enough to still accept such a sinful man into this sanctuary though, when finally approaching the gates, you see him.

You never understood what people meant by calling a non-African-American person Tall, dark, and handsome. But, now you did, it was his presence as a whole that made your knees quiver and when his eye, seemingly black, glimmering holes stared you up and down you felt a shiver go through your core. As a lady of faith, you knew nothing of this physical reaction. Taking a deep breath you compose yourself bow and speak; "Welcome home, Young Master Asa" he chuckles at you and lifts you by your chin to stop your bow.

"Please, just call me Mr. Emory…" His voice had a crazed and sexy tone to it, even his soft laugh, but it didn't seem real. "May I lead you to where you must be appointed?" I ask and before he could peak Father Emory interrupts. "Please, allow me and my son to catch up first" You nod at his words and walk off feeling Asa's eyes on you to the church doors.

[fa1rysugar]

Masterlist 🌸

[lemondragoncheesecake]

💚 What about the coitus in public? Does Kai like the idea of the fear being caught or he prefers doing that in the bedroom?

💚💚💚💚💚 10/10

I think he's all for getting frisky and risky in tight places. He can get impatient, so if he's in the mood, he'll try to take his S/O to a secluded place- but if that's not an option, a closet or curtained off area will have to do; he wants them, so he's going to take them that instant and rail them immediately, and if that place happens to be a closet where there's a chance they might get caught...well, all the better; it's probably the only time where he'll excuse his partner being silent, though you know he's doing his best to get them to make at least a little noise- he loves watching them get flustered and embarrassed, trying so hard to hold back their gasps and moans and avoid being heard- which makes it even more exciting for Kai.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly III

~ part 3 of the Dolly series

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, elements of horror

synopsis: as a rare doll collector, a unique sex doll piques your interest and you have to own it.

wc: 8.2k

warnings: mentions of bruises, blood and needles, some violence, haunted dolls

nsfw warnings: grinding, praise, lots of kissing, body worship, handjob, cum tasting, oral (m and f), unprotected sex, creampie

~ divider by @bunnysrph

"Good morning, Matilda. Prudence, how do you do? Ah, Mr. Avery. Looking particularly swell today." the dolls stare at you with their big eyes and smiling faces while you greet them just like every day.

Whistling about the kitchen as you prepare breakfast, your life companions are always there to listen to you and bring you comfort.

"You know, we have an exciting new family member arriving to us today. I'm expecting all of you to act polite and give him a warm welcome to his new home." you point your spatula at the dolls that were decorating the kitchen.

"I mean all of you!" you yell out, chuckling after.

"We all know what happens to naughty dolls. You don't want to experience the same scorching punishment they did." you smirk at them and though they are usually silent, it seems like they're even more quiet now.

Alive in your mind, they've heard you and are now shivering in fear but anticipating the arrival of the newest addition to your precious collection.

You really do expect them to be on their best behavior.

Not long after breakfast, your package arrives.

You practically rip open the huge box and tear off all the covers and bubble wrap, throwing them carelessly behind you.

"Oh!" you gasp.

"My my, you're just such a beauty, aren't you?" you smile at the doll staring at you from the box.

"You look like a little angel." your hands cup his cheeks.

"So soft. So sweet. You're going to be perfect for us." you look at him fondly. "Welcome home, Felix."

You lean down to kiss his cute nose, observing the freckles on his face.

He is just stunning, every little crease on him looks perfect and most importantly; he looks alive.

Yes, people might be creeped out by your love of dolls, collecting them, playing with them and hanging out with them but you never cared.

They were everything to you ever since you were a little girl so you spent so much money on getting the most rare and unique dolls you could, even getting a few ones that were supposedly haunted.

The thought of that exhilirated you, and you were convinced all of them were alive especially after you'd find them in different places or hear them giggle and whisper.

You loved that, respected the dolls and their needs but you always let them know that you were the head of the house.

It was going to be the same with this special doll.

As soon as you saw the ad, you wished you could buy all eight of them and have the rarest and craziest collection ever but they were so expensive so you settled on getting only Felix.

He just seemed so sweet and innocent to you, out of all 8 of them, you thought he looked the most doll-like and would go perfectly with your porcelain doll collection; just one of many you had.

You didn't care much that he was a sex doll, but seeing him now up close made you understand the appeal for that too.

You grabbed the manual to skim over it, not really caring about what it says, you were more interested in the letter that was in Felix's hand.

You slowly picked it up and opened it.

Hello,

my name is Felix and I am your comforting doll.

I love cuddles, hugs and kisses, sweets (especially chocolate). And videogames!

Please always keep me close to you as I love to feel your warmth, and no matter what you do with me always end it with a sweet kiss.

"You're a little cuddlebug, hm?" you pout at him. "You're just becoming cuter by the second!"

Finding another paper tucked in the pocket of his jeans, you pull it out and open it too.

My darling!

I'm ready for our first cuddling session!

I hope you bring fluffy pillows and enjoy our first night together.

"Ah! So adorable!" you squeal. "Let me introduce you to everyone." you add, quickly grabbing him and lifting him up.

"Fam, this is Felix, a very special doll. I expect you give him a warm welcome and help him feel at ease here. This is now his home as much as it is yours and I will not tolerate any sour behavior!" you say.

Of course, it's quiet but you know that they've understood you.

One of the ventriloquist dolls lips open and you chuckle.

"Yes, Parker. I know he's pretty. Now close your mouth or you'll catch flies." you chuckle, standing up and making your way to the doll.

With your fingers on its chin, you gently close the wooden doll's mouth.

"Now, where were we? Ah, yes! That outfit is atrocious. But don't worry, sweet Felix. I already prepared clothes that I know will fit your pretty face perfectly." you smirk, hoisting Felix in your arms and lifting him up.

Once you make it to your bedroom, you gently lay him down on your fluffy bed and open your wardrobe, looking at the neatly hung up outfits you had ordered online right after ordering Felix.

The dolls on the shelves all stare at him as you whistle a tune, picking out his outfit.

"This should do it." you grab one of them and make your way towards your bed.

"Let's get you out of this... whatever it is." you grip the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it up and gasping when you notice his abs.

"Interesting." you poke his stomach and then his side. "I bet you're ticklish." you add, sliding his arms out of the shirt and tossing it aside.

"Oh!" you gasp again, noticing a few freckles on his chest. "You're so precious, Felix." your finger traces his beauty marks gently, almost making you hypnotized.

You snap out of it and unbutton his jeans, pulling the zipper down and feeling your face flush when you realize your touch had aroused the doll.

"Did you get excited, precious dolly?" you giggle at him, before looking around at the other dolls who were fixated on Felix.

"It is rude to stare." you chastise them, but they continue looking as you slide his pants down and toss them on the floor.

"I think you need help with this, Lixie." you chew on your lip as you hook your fingers in his boxers.

As soon as you slide them down, a wave of embarassment washes over you as you stare at his hard cock, glistening at the tip.

It seems that there are a few freckles on his length too and your thighs press together involuntarily.

It's been a while since you've been with someone, most people you tried to date couldn't understand your obsession with dolls and there was no way you were going to choose them over your doll family.

But, seeing that Felix was a doll and a sex doll at that, you didn't see harm in using him for what he's made for.

"We can help each other, but you can forget about putting that inside me." you warn, lifting your dress up and pushing your panties down.

"This will have to suffice, my little Lixie." you giggle as you throw your leg over him and press your wet core against his cock.

Slowly, you start grinding against him, your arousal coating his cock and balls, little whimpers leaving your mouth as you close your eyes and throw your head back.

It really has been so long, and Felix is so warm and pliant, laying under you taking it.

You speed up as you feel your high building up, you look back down at him and notice that his cheeks are rosy, making him look even cuter.

You whimper as you stare at his pretty face, his tip catching onto your clit a few times and almost slipping inside.

"Don't be naughty, Lixie. Or I'll have to punish you." you whine as his cock catches on your entrance, the tip twitching inside you.

It's as if something flashes in his eyes and you whimper loudly, cumming all over his cock and riding your high against his throbbing erection.

"You didn't cum yet?" you pout, remembering there was something about that in the manual.

"Ah, yes, you like having your hair pulled on." you smirk and continue grinding against him, your fingers now tangled in his hair.

"Cum for me, my angel." you pull on his hair and his cock twitches against your wetness before he explodes on his abs, the warm liquid pooling around his belly button and making you more wet as you grind on him once again, his cum smeared on your cunt.

You look at him as you stop your movements, your heart beating fast.

"Look what a mess we made, Lixie." you shake your head before getting up and heading to the bathroom, the dolls chilling in your room still with their eyes fixed on Felix.

You come back after cleaning yourself up to clean him too, so you can dress him in the clothes you bought him.

It's a bit of a struggle but you get a feeling that Felix really wants to cooperate.

"There, now you look like a real angel." you smile as you lean back, satisfied with the white loose pants and the white shirt, embroidered with golden flowers.

"I have some work to do on you yet." you sit him up and then grab some of your makeup.

You gently work on his face, putting some light gold eyeshadow on his eyelids, a few sparkles under his eyes and he seems to be pouting.

"You think I forgot to give you a sweet kiss, don't you?" you smirk. "I didn't, don't worry."

You finish up on his eye makeup then grab a pink lipstick, opening it up and applying it on your lips first.

"A finishing touch." you lean in, holding his face before you press your lips into his heart shaped ones, kissing him gently.

You giggle as you lean away, removing the smeared lipstick and repairing what stayed on his lips with your finger as he practically stares at you.

His eyes seem shiny and warm, something deep and dark inside them too and you can't look away.

"My sweet Lixie. So good for me." you kiss his nose and then his cheeks, making sure to kiss his pretty freckles.

You almost get completely lost in him, forgetting about the dolls watching you until one of them falls down onto the floor with a loud thud, making you jerk away from Felix.

"Jonathan! You startled me!" you reprimand the wooden doll before standing up and coming to it.

You take him in your arms and look at him.

"Are you jealous?" you ask as you gently put him back in his place, fixing his shirt and hat.

"Don't worry, I love you all equally." you pat the doll's head before turning to look at Felix.

You have a feeling that might change soon.

-

You take Felix to your workshop, a small room where you dedicate your time to repair dolls, sew their torn clothes or make them new outfits, sometimes even making a few dolls of your own.

"Welcome to my workshop, Lixie. I spend lots of time here so I guess you will too. Now, I should've started with this, but you... distracted me." your eyes fall down to his crotch before you look up at him.

"I will make sure you have everything you need and I will always treat you well, but of course I expect that to be reciprocated. Which means you are to behave well in this house, listen to what I say and be good to your brothers and sisters. If you ever do something to break the rules, there will be repercussions. And trust me, you don't want to get on my bad side." you wave your finger at the doll and it seems like he's listening intently, his eyes seemingly fearful as you sit across from him, making eye contact.

"Don't be scared, Lixie. I have a feeling that you're a good boy and that you'll be obedient. We will have no problems, you and I. I'll even reward your good behavior." you smirk at him, caressing his soft cheeks.

You lean in to press a kiss on his lips before you turn to your table and start working on your broken dolls.

Felix stares at you from where you left him, his hands tucked in his lap and eyes fixed on your hunched frame.

You almost forget about his presence as you concentrate on your work, every detail you sew into their clothes, the love you pour into them, in a way giving them a soul of their own.

Your hands seemed to dance as you kept working, until you felt a sharp pain in your neck.

"Ow!" you mutter and sit up, realizing you've been hunched over for too long, your shoulders tense, pain throbbing in your neck. "Time for a break." you announce, your stomach growling after that.

"And food, I guess." you turn to Felix, finally acknowledging his existence.

He looks to you like he wants to say something, even though he is sitting still.

"What is it, Lixie?" you lean in closer, looking right into his eyes.

He stays silent.

"Ah, you're shy. You'll come around. I'll wait for you to show yourself to me." you smirk, kissing his nose, your fingertips tracing the pretty freckles on his face.

After giving him a little kiss, you take him to your garden, which was thankfully surrounded by a tall wooden fence, hiding you away from the rest of the world.

"Sit here and I'll be right back." you sit him down on one of the fancy chairs, brushing away the hair that fell into his face.

You bring a few of your other dolls, sitting them down on the other chairs, bringing all of them a set of china; plates, cups and everything.

It's all themed with pink flowers, making everything look even more proper and fancy.

"Socialize." you wave your hand before disappearing into the kitchen, preparing a quick lunch for yourself.

You walk out into the garden some 15 minutes later with a plate of food for yourself and a glass of juice.

"I hope you're being nice to Felix." you say as you sit down, eyeing the four dolls sitting around the table, Felix being exactly across from you.

He looks a tad timid, and you're 100% sure that the expressions on his face keep changing, you know you're not just imagining it because other dolls you own have changed expressions or positions, some even giggled and whispered.

With your doll experience, Felix doesn't scare you, quite the opposite, you're waiting for him to start talking.

You make small talk with your dolls, about this beautiful day, how sunny and warm it is, how good lunch turned out.

As you continued talking, suddenly one of the cups started shaking and you look at the porcelain doll sitting next to Felix.

"Jenevieve. Don't do that! Behave." you warn but it's too late, the cup flies right into Felix's side, hitting him hard before crashing onto the floor, pieces of it flying everywhere.

Anger bubbles up in your veins as you take a deep breath in.

"You little bitch." you almost growl at the porcelain doll before standing up abruptly and grabbing a fistful of her hair.

"That's it, you're getting punished!" you seethe, walking back into the house as you carry her by her hair all the way down to the basement.

"You're gonna think long and hard about your behavior. And after you do, you will apologize to Felix. Like it or not he is family now." you say before laying the doll in a box and locking it.

"I know you're claustrophobic. So this will be a nice lesson for you never to misbehave again." you smirk before making your way back upstairs.

You quickly run to Felix, gasping when you notice a single tear running down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, angel." you wipe it away quickly, kissing his cheek after.

"Let's see the damage." you undo his shirt and sure enough there is a bruise forming on his side.

"For this, Jenevieve will get a week in the dungeon." you say angrily, your fingertips brushing against the bruise. "I'll take care of you, sweet Lixie. I promise that'll never happen again."

-

The same evening, you brought Felix to your bed, stripping him out of the shirt so you could take care of his bruise.

You flip through the manual seeing the warning about not bruising the doll and anxiety washes over you, hoping he wasn't now damaged in some irreparable way.

You rummage through your bathroom cabinet, finding a cream that was used for bruises, skipping back to Felix.

"Well, you're warm, you can blush, bruise and cry. And... cum." you giggle quietly. "So I guess this would help you?" you purse your lips before taking some cream out and gently applying it on his bruise.

"There-" you pause, seeing a bulge growing in his pants. "Really? You're so sensitive." you tsked, your hands on his thighs, gripping the flesh shortly.

You look at Felix's face and melt.

He's blushing again, his cheeks rosy followed by the tips of his ears becoming red.

"You're such a cutie." you coo at him. "But you're gonna have to wait a bit. I have to take off your make up and brush your hair. I want you to be all comfy in bed." you nod to yourself, getting up to retrieve makeup wipes and a brush.

You start gently removing his makeup, leaving little kisses on his cheeks and nose, pressing your lips into his plush ones.

After cleaning him up, you take the brush and sit him up more comfortably so you can start brushing his hair.

"Oh you really like this." your eyes widen as you notice him twitching in his pants. "Like your hair played with, my pretty angel?" you twirl a strand of his soft hair between your fingers.

"Give me three minutes." you hurry to your bathroom to get ready for bed before skipping back to Felix excitedly.

"I'm here sweetie." you grab his face and crash your lips against his.

The way he was made, his lips seemed to be kissing back, so soft and sweet against yours.

You kissed him for some time, already addicted to his taste before you started leaving kisses on his jaw, all the way to his ear.

He only seemed to become even more red, the color seeping onto his neck and chest.

"My shy Lixie." you giggle, leaving kisses on the column of his neck.

He feels so soft and smells so sweet, making you want to do this forever, just kiss him everywhere as he lays and takes it.

You liked being in control, it made you feel powerful as your hands roamed all over his body, his skin so soft like a baby's, you couldn't stop touching him.

Your lips covered every inch of Felix as you kissed his chest, his arms, his stomach, his hands.

Taking your sweet time to worship him.

You slid his pants off, getting up to put them on the chair where you've already left the shirt.

Felix was blushing profusely and he was very warm as you touched him, his cock throbbing, the tip red and angry, glistening with his wetness.

"You're working yourself up, dolly. You need to calm down a little or I won't give you what you want." you smirk, sliding your hands on his supple thighs, up to his balls where you lightly grazed them with your fingertips.

His cock twitched in protest, his face even redder now.

"If you act naughty, I'll leave you like this all night. Don't test me, my little prince."

Felix's lips seemed pouty at that and you waited a little, only gently caressing his smooth arms, the redness of his face and body subsiding slowly until only his cheeks were rosy like before.

"Good boy." his cock leaked and twitched at the praise.

"Ah, my dolly likes to be praised?" you giggled delightfully, smoothing out his hair.

"I'll keep that in my mind." you winked at him, fingertips grazing against his length before you finally wrapped your hand around him.

"Good boys get rewards." you coo at him, thumbing at his wet slit.

Felix's ears become red again.

"I'll take care of you, sweetie. Don't worry." you whisper as you lean down, leaving kisses all over his skin as you start moving your hand.

You play with him for as long as you want to, torturing his cock as you alternate between fast and slow movements, at times using only one hand and then both or fondling his balls, your lips never leaving his heated skin.

You explore him with your tongue, swirling it around his nipples and noticing how he got even more wet because of it.

"So sensitive. Cute." you kiss his lips, your hand tangling in his hair.

"You wanna cum, dolly? Ah, I wish I could hear you beg, I bet you'd sound so sweet all desperate for me." you coo at Felix, gripping his hair and pulling it back as you jerk him off faster.

He explodes all over your hand and himself, making you gasp from the amount that spurted out, curiosity taking you over as you scoop some of it on your finger, licking it up.

"Mm. Are you strawberry flavored?" you chuckle, swirling your finger in his cum to lick at it again.

"Maybe cotton candy?" you giggle again before kissing him sweetly.

You clean Felix up and cozy up to him, curling your body around his as you wrap your arms around him.

You hope that from that day on, everything goes smoothly; without any more incidents.

The following week passed by just as you expected, with no incidents, the dolls now on their best behavior after they've witnessed Jenevieve being dragged down to the basement.

Felix became an obsession of sorts, you just couldn't keep your hands off of him.

You've never owned a doll like him, and to say that you're infatuated is an understatement.

Constantly kissing him and touching him made you equally as aroused as it did him.

You wanted him in every way, but you didn't want to use all his capabilities on your own, instead you wished he'd snap out of it and do it by himself, participate and react to your touches more than just heating up, blushing or twitching.

You felt sad every day you had to leave for work, leaving Felix alone with the other dolls.

You warned them not to try anything or you'd burn them to a crisp.

But as you finally let Jenevieve out, hoping she had learned her lesson, you had no idea how it would actually make all hell break loose.

"Now, Jenevieve I hope you're sorry for what you've done and that you understand why it was wrong. This can never happen again, okay?" you told her before putting her back in her place.

You sat Felix on your bed, caressing him and kissing him for some time.

"Be a good boy, Lixie." you kiss his forehead.

"And all of you too. Behave or else." you give Felix one last kiss before leaving the house.

It was obvious that some of your dolls felt neglected.

This was their home and in their eyes Felix was an intruder they had to get rid of.

He was taking up all your time, soaking up all your attention, getting all your love.

There were dolls that didn't agree, they liked Felix and thought he was sweet just like you did.

Some were just scared to share their opinion, afraid of being locked in the basement, smashed to pieces or burned into ashes.

The neglected dolls had come up with a plan.

They were going to destroy Felix so by the time you come home, there is nothing left to salvage.

-

"I'm home!" you announced cheerfully as you entered your house, a bag of groceries secured in your arm.

Whistling, you made your way to the living room but stopped dead in your tracks when you saw a few drops of red liquid on the floor, something that looked like blood.

You stood in shock for a moment before dropping the bag of groceries on the floor, as they made a loud thud sound, the apples you bought rolling around your living room.

With a gasp, you started running up the stairs, all of them painted in little red dots, anxiety building up with each step you took.

When you reached your bedroom, a shriek escaped your lips, echoing off of the walls.

Felix was thrown on the floor, his body and face bruised and cut up, the outfit you dressed him in torn into pieces.

What was most concerning was the blood dripping out of his wounds.

Your heart started beating fast in fear.

Noticing Jenevieve standing in the corner together with some of your other dolls made your blood boil, your body starting to shake with rage as your eyes blurred with tears.

With a loud growl as rage took you over completely, you ran downstairs to grab your sledgehammer.

"I told you. I told you to behave!" you screamed at the culprits, lifting up your weapon and smashing the first doll that was nearest to you.

"How could you do this?" you cried, continuing to pound your sledgehammer on the dolls, damaging your wall and furniture in the process.

Jenevieve was last and you smirked at her.

"Goodbye, bitch." you said before smashing her into pieces, the sound of porcelain breaking was so satisfying in your ears.

"Do any of you have anything to add?" you looked at the other dolls coldly, the ones that didn't dare move from their designated place.

"Didn't think so." you added, fresh tears sliding down your cheeks as your eyes caught sight of Felix again.

"Shit!" you exclaimed, falling down to your knees and grabbing his face gently.

He was crying.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I left you alone with them Lixie! I will make this right, I promise!" you cried as you held onto him.

You ran to your bathroom to grab a first aid kit, running back to Felix as fast as you could.

You tended to his wounds, tears falling down your face onto his cheeks and mixing with his own.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." you kept whispering as you took care of him, worry growing inside you when Felix became colder to the touch.

"I think this one needs stitches." you noticed a gash on his hand. "How did they do this? I'll never let anyone hurt you again, Felix."

That night, you brought Felix to your workshop, sewing up his wound and hoping that he would heal just like the bruise from his first day here was healing.

You didn't want to look at your dolls, opting to take Felix to the guest room, the only empty room in the house, getting him all comfy in your fluffiest blankets before you joined him under the covers.

"I love you a lot Lixie. Even though it's only been a week. You're my favorite doll ever." you kissed his cheek before cuddling him, holding him close to your body as you felt him warm up.

A smile spread on your face.

He's going to be okay.

Over the next few weeks, Felix's wounds have healed nicely.

You've asked to work from home so you could be with him all day.

It was quiet in your house, all of the other dolls were now even more afraid of you, after your little sledgehammer revenge.

You cuddled Felix a lot, holding him close whenever you could, playing with his soft hair and doting on him the entire time.

His face seemed to change throughout that time, from an expression of sadness and pain back to happiness and his rosy cheeks.

Once he was fully healed, you decided to bake a chocolate cake to celebrate his recovery.

Of course, he was in the kitchen with you, watching you work on the sweet treat.

You had more than one sweet treat in mind, you thought, giggling to yourself as you swiped some chocolate cream on your finger.

"Mm. So tasty." you smirked, looking directly at Felix.

"You wanna taste?" you took some more, coming closer to him and pressing your finger on his lips.

"Come on, I know you want it." you smirked. "I'll let you taste something even sweeter later."

He didn't react in the way you wanted him to, but his face was quickly becoming red.

Sighing, you leaned back and continued making the cake.

Once it was finished, you decided to let it cool down and take Felix to your living room.

"Look at that. I didn't even touch you." you giggled, the bulge in his pants evident.

He was finally all well and healed so you let yourself explore his body with your hands and lips.

It didn't take long for you to strip him, your eyes glued to his pretty cock, all hard for you.

"You make me wanna do things I usually don't." you sighed, gently stroking him.

"But you've been so good for me, so I gotta reward you." you laid Felix down, kneeling between his legs.

You kissed his thighs, lightly biting into his skin and noticing how he twitched at that.

You wanted to taste him and have him in your mouth which is something you were usually uncomfortable with but Felix made you want to do all those things you thought you never would.

"My good boy." you praise him, your lips pressing gentle kisses into his leaking cock.

Felix's body flushed as you kept kissing and licking at him, your hands sliding slowly on his soft skin, mapping him out.

You kissed his tip, tasting his pre-cum, sweet like cotton candy and you couldn't wait anymore as you wrapped your lips around him.

Your tongue tingled from the sweet taste as you swirled it around his head, a moan escaping your lips and making him leak even more.

Felix's fingers twitched on his side and your eyes widened a little as you took more of him in.

Hoping he would move again, you started bobbing your head faster, taking him in deeper, moaning around him and creating vibrations around his throbbing cock.

His fingers twitched a few more times, every time his tip hit the back of your throat it seemed to make him move.

Determined to snap him out of whatever trance he was in you gave it your all, drooling around his length as you sucked him harder, your hand squeezing his sensitive balls.

Taking you by surprise, Felix came, filling your mouth up with his cum and making you sputter as you didn't expect it.

You managed to swallow some, the rest making a mess out of his crotch.

You knew he was supposed to cum only after you pull on his hair so how did this happen?

Now, you had an even bigger inkling that Felix was alive.

A smirk spread on your lips as you stared at his reddened face.

"D'you want a taste, angel?" you giggled, your hand between your legs.

"Yeah, you do." you added, gathering some of your juices before bringing them up to his lips.

You pushed your finger in his mouth, making him taste you.

"I know you like that, my pretty prince."

You gave him a few kisses before cleaning him up.

"We can eat some cake tomorrow." you told him as you laid him down in your bed, the guest room now becoming your room.

As you cuddled up to Felix that night, you had no idea that he would finally wake up while you slept.

-

Felix's eyes widened as he fought for breath, his heart beating hard against his chest.

He gripped at the sheets, fisting them in pain as his whole body hurt.

You were sleeping peacefully on your side, facing him and for some reason he was terrified.

Felix saw what you did when you got angry so he didn't want to upset you in any way even though you treated him well, so well that he knew he loved you as much as you loved him.

But with confusion and fear running through his veins, he decided not to wake you up, instead he got up quietly in search of food and water.

He knew that if he took something from the fridge, you'd know he was awake so Felix made his way to your pantry, his feet padding on the floor quietly.

On his way there, his knee collided into a chair and he cursed quietly, his eyes widening as he looked back to the direction of your room.

Felix gulped, listening for some time and after deciding it was safe he entered the pantry.

He found some cookies and in his hunger he devoured most of them, accidentally leaving the wrapper and the crumbs behind.

After drinking some water, Felix returned to bed, deciding to let you sleep and maybe tell you that he's alive tomorrow.

-

Waking up the next day, you started the morning like any other, kissing Felix's sweet face.

But, something was different this morning.

His eyes were closed.

"Hm." you looked at him and he seemed to be breathing but it was so early in the morning that you thought you had dreamed it up.

Suddenly, your phone rang, scaring you out of your thoughts.

"Hi, Jackie!" it was your childhood best friend, the only person who tolerated your obsession with dolls.

She didn't mind it much and she loved you for who you were, the two of you grew up together, going through all the ups and downs with each other.

"Hey, y/n! I'm in town this weekend so I thought we could catch up." she said cheerfully.

"Of course, I'd love to!" you sat up, momentarily forgetting about Felix as you made your way to the kitchen with a smile on your face.

"Great, I can't wait to share all the tea I have." she said and you giggled before noticing something weird.

There was a glass you didn't touch on the counter, and your pantry door was open so you walked towards it as Jackie yapped in your ear.

As you turned the light on, you noticed half eaten cookies on the floor, the wrapper pulled apart seemingly with teeth.

"What? Do I have rats in my house?" you chuckled.

"I'm not a rat." a deep voice said behind you and you shrieked, turning around, your phone almost slipping out of your hand.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" Jackie asked.

"I'm gonna have to call you back." you said as you hung up, staring at Felix as he stood before you with his eyes wide, a timid look on his face, his cheeks rosy and lips pouty.

His hands were clasped together as he played with his fingers.

"F-Felix?" your eyes welled up with happy tears.

"It's me." he said, the depth of his voice shocking you once again, you didn't expect your sweet angel would have such deep vocal chords.

"Oh!" you laughed in delight, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

Felix gasped at your onslaught of love as you squeezed him so tight that you knocked his breath out of his lungs.

"I knew you'd come to me eventually, my angel." you gently took his face in your hands, your thumbs moving back and forth on his cheeks slowly.

"Y-you're not mad at me?" he asks cutely, blinking at you.

"No, no, not at all! Though, you left a mess." you shake your head and his face becomes redder.

"I'm sorry, I will clean it up." he says timidly and you giggle.

"Oh, you are so adorable!" cuteness aggression takes you over completely as you pinch his cheeks and kiss his plump lips repeatedly, making him giggle.

His stomach growled and he looked at you embarassingly, his face red and you chuckled.

"You need a proper meal." you said, deciding to make the classic eggs and bacon combo.

You took his hands and led him to the chair, sitting him down.

"Let me help you." Felix beamed at you.

"It's okay, Lixie. I like taking care of you."

"I know, but I want to do the same for you."

You melted instantly, kissing him again, it was hard to be apart from him.

The two of you made breakfast together, albeit clumsily as he was still confused about everything.

After eating, the two of you sat in the garden, you with your cup of coffee and Felix with his cup of hot cocoa, two slices of the chocolate cake you made last night served on the fine china.

"What made you wake up?" you asked.

"I- I'm not sure. I tried doing it before, I only managed to move my fingers or toes slightly, sometimes my eyes. It was honestly like I was imprisoned in my own body. I wanted to- to reciprocate, hold you properly and take care of you like you do to me." he said, looking away as he blushed once more.

"Ah, you are so sweet my prince. Just how I imagined. I knew you were alive, I was just hoping and waiting for you to break out of the hypnotized state."

"You think I was hypnotized?" Felix tilts his head at you.

"Do you remember anything before coming here?" you ask, reaching out to touch his hand gently.

"I remember this big cold room. And water. So much water. And there were others but I can't remember their faces. We were all there in the big room. There was a voice talking to us, I- I don't know what it said. But I think it was giving out commands." the more Felix talked about his past, the more worked up he was getting, his hands shaking, a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead.

"Hey, hey it's okay. You don't have to tell me everything right away. It must be upsetting." you quickly stand up, holding his face and caressing him.

"I don't wanna go back there."

"You won't." you smile, sitting in his lap.

Felix freezes, his eyes wide and lips falling open, his face taking on the familiar rosy color.

"Y/n." he looks up at you cutely and you lean in, kissing him lovingly.

"You're no longer just my dolly. You're my boyfriend now." you giggle and he smiles the most beautiful bright smile you have ever seen.

"Oh! I am?"

"Mhm." you nod and lean in to kiss him again, your tongue licking at his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, letting you explore him properly now that he's awake, your hand tangled in his soft hair.

"I love you, Lixie." you kiss the tip of his nose.

"I love you y/n. Thank you for everything. For being so good to me and helping me heal when those dolls..." he shivers.

"Of course. Sorry if I went a little crazy. I know I can be insane sometimes. It's just when I saw you like that on the floor, I felt my heart break. I needed to smash them into pieces so they can never hurt you again."

"No, I'm glad you did that. If I could, I'd fight back."

"I know you would." you smile, shifting on his lap as you caress his face.

Scooting closer to him, you feel him press into you.

"I'm sorry." Felix whimpers, looking everywhere but at you. "I know you don't want to... you know."

"I do. Now that you're awake." you nod and his eyes widen.

"Oh?"

"Let's go inside." you giggle at his shocked expression.

"W-what do I do?" Felix looks at you unsurely as you sit on your bed. "Usually you're in charge..."

"You can take the lead, angel. Whatever you had in mind all this time, you can do now." you smile at him, taking his hands in yours to reassure him.

"I wanna worship you like you do to me." he blushes profusely and you chuckle.

"Of course." you say, the two of you starting with loving kisses, layers of clothing slowly coming off.

Felix lays you down gently, looking panicked for a moment, like he doesn't know what to start with, and as his eyes travel all over your body, the redness on his face spreads to his ears and neck.

Ultimately, he decides to do what you did, leaning down to kiss your neck first.

You throw your head back, giving him space as his plump lips gently travel on your skin.

You close your eyes as Felix's worships you, his lips so sweet on your hot skin, his hands caressing you gently as he slides them on your arms, then to your waist and tummy before slowly going up to cup your breasts.

"L-Lixie." you whimper as he plays with your nipples before leaning in to kiss them, his tongue darting out to swirl around the sensitive bud before his pretty lips wrap around it, sucking gently.

"Ah!" you moan, arching into him, arousal dripping from your core.

Felix whimpers when his finger touches your warmness, feeling how wet you got just for him.

He finds your clit, gently rubbing it in circles with his fingertips as he continues sucking on your breasts.

"Want you." you whine and he lifts up.

"C-can I taste you?" he asks, licking his lips and you nod eagerly.

Felix leaves kisses on your tummy all the way down to your core where he presses his lips against your clit.

"Mm, angel." you moan, making him moan too.

His tongue darts out as he starts licking at you and your eyes roll back.

He groans into your core, already addicted to your taste as he spreads you with his thumbs, pushing his tongue in eagerly, as deep as he can.

Your legs tremble a little, your hand ending up in his hair as you hold him down.

Felix keeps grunting into you, his deep voice sending vibrations through you as he laps you up, his button nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

Being sensitive, you can't hold it in too long as you explode, your juices spilling on his lips and chin.

"You taste so sweet." he looks up at you, licking at his lips.

"Come here, I need you." you make grabby hands at him and Felix giggles as he slides up, slotting himself perfectly between your thighs.

"Are you sure?" he asks and you nod.

"Please."

"Anything you want, darling." Felix whispers.

You feel his tip caress your folds and you whine, wrapping your legs around him as he sinks in, slowly opening you up just for him.

You embrace each other, your bodies moving together as Felix makes love to you until you're crying and trembling in his hold, your nails digging into his back as he finally releases his warm cum inside you, filling you up to the brim.

That night, Felix got to embrace you just how he always wanted.

The next few days pass by in perfect bliss.

You and Felix are attached at the hip, always together, always in each other's arms, lips constantly touching.

You took him out on so many dates and he loved being outside, seeing other people enjoying their day too, feeling the warm sunlight on his face, the gentle breeze caressing his hair.

You'd never been this happy before, never having someone who had seen you at your worst and still loved you for who you are.

Felix also loved helping you around the house, giving you massages and doing everything he can to make you feel comfortable.

He even told you of the dolls who were always nice to him so you'd take them out in the garden to hang out with you and Felix on a nice picnic date.

Even your friend Jackie was happy for you, first asking you to explain how the hell did he go from a doll to a human.

"So, basically, you were alive the whole time?" she scratched her head, as the three of you sat in your garden.

"I guess I was."

"So, do you remember how you were made? Like, are you human or?" Jackie asks, her eyes widened in wonder.

"I honestly have no idea. As I told y/n, I only remember that there was a room and that I was suspended in water."

"It's all so peculiar." you shake your head. "But it doesn't matter. What matters now is that Felix is alive and he is safe here." you kiss his cheek and he blushes instantly.

"If you're happy y/n, I'm happy too." Jackie smiles at you.

"Thanks, J." you giggle.

The rest of the afternoon Jackie fills you in with all the drama that happened in her life since you last saw each other, both you and Felix entertained after getting a scoop.

That night, Felix falls asleep quickly and you stay up just for some time, caressing his face and admiring his beauty.

"Good night, my sweet Lixie." you kiss his forehead before nuzzling into him and falling asleep.

Felix's night is filled with nightmares, after opening the topic of his past with Jackie today, memories started flooding in his mind.

People in white suits, their faces unrecognizable. A huge ceiling with big silver pipes. Water tanks with bodies floating inside them all in fetal position. Connected to a machine with a steady beeping sound echoing off of the walls.

The feeling of dread creeping up his spine.

Felix woke up with a loud gasp, covered in sweat, his heart almost leaping out of his chest.

"Lixie? What's wrong?" you sit up quickly as he jostled you awake.

"I- I had a nightmare." his lips tremble, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"It's okay, it was just a dream." you embrace him as he nuzzles into your neck.

You caress him until he calms down.

"It was about that place, wasn't it?"

He nods at your question and you sigh.

"How about we eat some ice cream?" you try to cheer him up and Felix nods quickly, a small smile already appearing on his face.

The two of you are in the kitchen when a loud banging on the door scares you both.

Both of you exchange a fearful look.

The banging starts again.

"Don't." Felix shakes his head, his hands trembling.

"It's okay." you reassure him, making your way to the door.

When you open them, you see five men in suits standing on your doorway, all their faces devoid of any emotion.

"Are you y/n l/n?" one of them speaks in a monotone voice.

"Yes, I am."

"So you've purchased Felix, the comforting doll?"

"I did. What is this about?" you ask confusedly.

"We are here to take him. There's been a malfunction and we need the dolls back at our company."

You scoff at them.

"No." you cross your arms.

"Miss, it's in your best interest to cooperate with us."

"Who the fuck do you think you are to know what's in my best interest?" you frown as two of the men exchange unimpressed looks.

You groan and in an attempt to shoo them away, you lift your leg up and kick one of the men right in his shin.

He doesn't even budge, doesn't make an expression or a sound that would indicate he was even hit.

"Get her out of the way." the man in the very back says and two of them grab your arms as you start screaming and kicking.

Three of the other men walk inside just as Felix runs up to the corridor, hearing your screams.

"Y/n!" he yells out, as the men grab him.

"Felix!" you kick around, tears sliding down your cheeks as you try to tear away from the men but to no avail.

"Let him go! He's alive! I love him!"

"Please don't take me away from her!"

Both of you scream but nobody listens to you.

One of the men takes a big needle out of his suitcase and before you can react he pushes it into Felix's neck, injecting him with some kind of liquid.

You scream as his body goes limp and they lift him up, walking out of your house.

"You'll get your money back, don't worry." the last man says and you scream at him, your tears flowing like a wild river.

"I don't want it! I want my Felix!" you cry, running after them but they've already pushed him into the backseat.

One of the men holds you back as they all pile in the car, leaving quickly as you fall down to your knees and cry.

Your heart hurts for breaking your promise of keeping Felix safe.

Your mind races with a thousand thoughts.

What are you going to do now?

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @juskz @quokkacidal @chuuyaobsessed @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @lixies-favorite-cookie @thelostprincessofasgard @linocvp1d

[buckysleftbicep]

daddy's got a gun 𐙚 b.b

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, dub-con, choking, slapping, spitting, oral sex (m rec), overstimulation, degradation, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, bucky manhandling you, lots of filthiness (please read the warnings)

summary: you never meant to cross a man like bucky barnes, he is cold-blooded, ruthless, he always takes what he wants and no amount of fight can drown out the way you end up begging for more. based on this request!

word count: 2.2k

a/n: hi! so this fic is unhinged and its probably an excuse for me to write explicit smut. it may not be for everyone, so please read the warnings! thank you and stay safe guys!

You didn’t see his men coming.

One second, you were walking back from the corner store with your hoodie pulled up and headphones tucked in. The next, the world turned black—hands over your mouth, your limbs yanked, twisted, a sharp sting to your neck and then absolutely nothing.

Now, you're here.

Laid out like some broken thing on black silk sheets in a room too luxurious for a prison, the mattress is soft and the air smells faintly like leather and tobacco. There are no bars on the windows—just thick glass and silence.

And him.

Bucky Barnes.

The name you'd only ever heard whispered, the kind of man your mother warned you about, dangerous, merciless. The type who didn’t just ruin lives—he erased them.

The Mob King of New York, ruthless killer and collector.

And now, your captor, standing in the shadows like he owned the world, watching you with those cold, unreadable steel blue eyes, as if he already knew exactly how and when, you'd break.

You don’t get it, do you?” His voice drips from the shadows at the foot of the bed, a low, rumbling threat that coils around your spine. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, one of his arms littered with black ink—tattoos that lick upward like fire and sin, the other cold, gleaming black and gold. They hadn’t been lying about his arm. He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

“You belong to me now.”

Your breath catches and you flinch when he takes a step closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots. He notices, of course he does. 

It only makes him smile, slow and sharp like a predator’s grin that promises nothing but ruin.

“Fucking gorgeous when you’re scared,” Bucky murmurs, running his tongue along the seam of his teeth like he’s savouring the moment. “Don’t look away, sweetheart. You’re gonna learn what happens when you disobey.”

The room feels smaller with each second. It was warm, suffocating, cloaked in shadows that flicker from the low amber light. You back up on the mattress, limbs trembling, but it’s no use. Bucky reaches for your ankle, and with deliberate slowness, drags you toward him. The silk sheets slide beneath your skin, your oversized hoodie riding up your thighs, panties exposed to the chill and to his hungry gaze.

You writhe with reflexive panic, but that only makes him grin.

“Still got some fight in you?” he muses, tilting his head. “Good. Breaking you will be so much more fun.”

The slap comes out of nowhere, his palm cracks across your face, hot and mean. You gasp, stunned, pain blooming like fire under your skin. But Bucky doesn’t let you recover. A strong hand grips your throat, firm, not enough to choke but enough to silence. His thumb presses under your chin, tilting your head so you face him.

“You look real pretty with my mark on your face,” he growls. “Slap you again, you’ll probably cum.”

“Fuck you,” you bite, voice cracking. Your tears betray you, slipping down hot and shameful.

He chuckles, low and dangerous.

Then he spits—right onto your tongue.

You gag on instinct, trying to turn your head, but his metal hand grips your hair tight, keeping you in place.

“That’s more like it,” he snarls, tightening his grip. “Open that pretty mouth, doll. Let me see what else you’re good for.”

The sound of his belt unbuckling slices through the air. Panic sets your blood racing. You try to squirm away, but he’s faster. His metal fingers curl into your hair, dragging you up until your neck arches painfully. You’re forced to look up at him—towering, hard, cock heavy and leaking as he fists it in one hand.

“I’ll make you beg for it,” he promises, voice like gravel wrapped in silk.

You shake your head violently, desperate, nails digging into his thighs in a last-ditch effort to shove him away but it only earns you another slap, harder than before. The sting rings in your ears, your skin screaming where his palm landed.

“You think I haven’t broken girls tougher than you?” he breathes, leaning closer, his breath hot against your lips. “But you, fuck, princess, you’re gonna be perfect.”

His fingers squeeze your cheeks until your lips part. You don’t mean to open your mouth, but your body gives in under pressure.

Bucky takes the invitation and he doesn’t ease in.

His cock fills your mouth in one brutal thrust, the thick head slamming against the back of your throat, choking you instantly. You gag around him, reflexive and helpless, eyes going wide as your body jerks. Your scratch at his hips, instinct, defiance, but it only makes him groan, a low, guttural sound that rumbles from his chest like thunder.

“That’s it, fuckin’ choke on it,” he pants, the praise laced with cruelty. His hips roll forward, shallow and deliberate, feeding you more with each thrust. “Good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl when you stop thinking.”

You can’t breathe, hell you can’t even think. The stretch is brutal, your jaw aches already, and he’s not stopping. His cock is thick, heavy, sliding deeper every time, turning your throat into his own personal toy, your tears fall freely now, your lashes soaked, spit slipping past the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. He watches every second of it—eyes dark and  ravenous as he fucks your mouth like it’s nothing more than a means to get off.

“You were made for this,” he growls, metal fingers fisting tighter in your hair. “Made for me.”

Then suddenly, he yanks back, cock dragging wetly from your mouth. You collapse forward, gasping, coughing, strings of saliva still connecting you to him. Your throat feels ruined, your lips swollen, your chest heaving as you suck in air like you’ve surfaced from drowning. Spit drips from your chin to the sheets below, and still—you can taste him. 

Hot, bitter and lingering.

“There she is,” he murmurs, voice mockingly sweet as he strokes a thumb across your wet cheek. “Didn’t expect to get owned tonight, huh?”

You glare up at him through tear-blurred lashes, the taste of him thick and awful on your tongue. Your voice comes out hoarse, broken. “You won’t get away with this,” you rasp.

“Oh, doll,” he breathes, leaning in close. His tongue drags slowly along the curve of your throat, savouring your shiver. “I already did.”

He smiles then, slow, dangerous almost as if he’s enjoying your unraveling.

And when he licks his lips, eyes locked on your swollen mouth, you know he’s not nearly done with you.

Bucky flips you over with terrifying ease, a single hand curling in the back of your hoodie like you're weightless. He rips it off in one violent motion, fabric tearing under the force, discarded somewhere across the room. Your panties don’t even stand a chance, his metal hand grabs and shreds them in two, the ruined lace tossed aside like it never mattered.

You try to twist away, but it’s useless. He’s already there, gripping your hips like he owns them, spreading your legs with a casual shove of his knee. The cool air hits your slick folds, and you flinch, a fresh wave of shame crashing over you. Your body’s betrayed you, soaked through, dripping for the man who just threw you around like a ragdoll.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he groans, dragging two thick fingers through your arousal, spreading it messily over your folds. “Fought me like hell, but this cunt?” He swipes over your clit and watches you twitch. “It’s beggin’ for me. You feel that?”

“No,” you whisper, trembling. You don’t want to feel it, the burn, the need, but your body shivers under his touch, thighs twitching when his fingers sink inside you with a cruel, slow thrust.

“That’s biology, princess,” he growls near your ear, fingers curling deep and just right. “Your body knows what it needs. And it’s me.”

You sob, the sound cracking from your throat, raw and real. His other hand wraps around your neck from behind, dragging you upright until your back slams against his solid chest. You can feel the ridges of his dog tags against your spine, his cock heavy and hot, grinding against your ass as he finger-fucks you in slow, devastating circles.

“I could make you cum like this,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your ear, “with just these fingers. Could have you trembling and soaked, beggin’ me to fill you.”

He doesn’t stop. He keeps working you, just right, circling, pressing, sliding inside you like he knows your body better than you do. And maybe he does. Because your thighs are shaking, your head lolling back on his shoulder as that humiliating pressure builds.

“But I won’t,” he whispers darkly. “Not yet. Not until you beg.”

You won’t. You swear you won’t. But when your hips buck against his hand, chasing more, when that soft, needy moan slips out before you can bite it back, his mouth curls into a grin against your skin.

“There it is,” he purrs. “That sweet, filthy little sound I’ve been waiting for.”

And then he stops.

Just like that, fingers gone, heat gone. Your cunt clenches at nothing, throbbing and aching with need, and the whine that escapes your lips is pitiful and humiliating.

“No,” you gasp, hips rocking desperately. “No, don’t stop-”

“No?” he mocks, hand gripping your jaw, turning your face so close to his you can taste his breath. “You want more, sweetheart?”

You're silent, too ashamed, too wrecked to answer, but your body says it all.

His palm cracks hard against your soaked pussy, and you scream.

“Use your fuckin’ words.”

“…Please,” you whisper, voice shaking.

He groans, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, soaking it in your slick, teasing your entrance until your whole body trembles.

“Please what?”

“…Please… fuck me.”

Bucky’s growl is low, vicious and primal.

“There she is. My good little slut.”

Then he slams into you, no warning, no mercy. His cock drives deep in one savage thrust, splitting you open around him. The scream that rips from your throat is ragged and raw, muffled by the sheets as your arms give out. His hips smack against your ass, loud and obscene, and then he’s moving, brutal and relentless.

“Fuck,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. “Tight little hole. Fuckin’ made for me.”

You sob into the mattress, your body caught between unbearable pain and something dark, twisted, devastatingly good. Your pussy stretches around him, gripping him tight, sucking him in with every thrust. And Bucky feels it, hell he’s fucking you like he’s claiming you, destroying you, owning every inch of your ruined body.

“You feel that?” he pants against your ear, voice hoarse. “Feel how your cunt clings to me? You like it. Filthy little slut, your body knows who owns it now.”

You want to deny it. God, you try. But the moans won’t stop, spilling from your lips like confessions. And your body was shaking, clenching and needy.

“You’re close,” he growls, burying himself deeper. “Gonna cum on my cock like the fuckin’ whore you swore you weren’t?”

“No don’t-” you choke, but the orgasm is building fast, cruel and unforgiving.

Then his fingers are there again, working your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles and the pressure breaks.

It hits you like a fucking freight train, your body seizes, your walls clench around him, and your scream is pure, brutal surrender. You cum hard, soaking him as you collapse beneath him.

“That’s it,” he snarls, fucking you through it. “Fucking cum for me, slut.”

But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow. He keeps driving into you, deeper, rougher, pushing you past the edge until your moans turn to wrecked sobs.

“Too much, please it’s too much-” you cry, voice gone and tears welling up in your eyes, unsure of just how much more you could take.

“No,” Bucky growls, hand tightening on your throat. “You’ll take it. You’re mine.”

His hips slam into you like a battering ram, over and over, and the sounds wet, brutal and carnal, fill the room. He’s panting now, groaning above you as he ruts into you like an animal.

“Bet you’ll be thankin’ me by the end of the week,” he hisses, every thrust sharp and punishing. “You’ll crawl into my lap, beggin’ for it like a good little cockdrunk slut.”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe, all you know is the sharp ache where he stretches you, the burn in your thighs, the unbearable heat coiling in your belly again.

Then with one final thrust, Bucky slams deep and stills, groaning loud and wrecked as he spills inside you, cock twitching, his cum spilling hot and thick.

His hand tightens just enough on your throat to make you see stars as he holds you there, buried deep, until he’s drained and shaking.

And when Bucky finally pulls out, slow and deliberate, his cum oozes from your swollen, overstimulated pussy, hot and shameful between your legs.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Mine now,” he whispers.

And you know he’s right.

Your body trembles, used and ruined, his cum leaking from your sore pussy, trickling down your thighs.

He lets you fall, and you collapse onto the sheets, face-down, broken and sobbing.

And then, his lips brush your temple, gentle and almost loving.

“You did so good for me, doll,” he murmurs, voice like velvet. “So fuckin’ good.”

You shiver, swallowing hard.

“You’ll see,” Bucky whispers. “You’ll love me by the end.”

And the worst part?

Some broken part of you believes he’s right.

a/n: hi! i hope you liked it! if you did, please drop a comment or a reblog, i would really appreciate it!

[artficlly]

hi !! i love ur work <3

ok i had an idea for a one shot but it’s totally fine if u don’t want to do it!

so reader and bucky break up (bucky dumps her) bc he thinks she can do better or whatevs and instead of feeling sad, reader is kind of getting off to how bad bucky is doing without her 😜😜 this is obviously inspired by my kink is karma from chappell lmao. anyways ends in fluff or smut and a lot of how much bucky missed her 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️😛😛

thank uuu !!

BITTER [one-shot]

modern marvel au vet!bartender!bucky x reader Bucky doesn't do relationships, but maybe you'll be the one to change him

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, sexual themes, angst, hurt/comfort, major character death, ptsd, bucky barnes needs a hug, bucky barnes has issues, bar fights, alcohol, smoking, swearing, stucky (historical), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: heya nonnie. this isn't exactlyyy what you asked for but i hope you like it anyway. i'm technically on hiatus rn but i felt bad leaving your ask unanswered for so long. i've been working on this between classes, i'm not super happy with it but i thought i'd post it anyway, it got a bit longer than i was expecting. i have like 5 million things due at the end of the month so i might be gone for a bit so here is a treat in the meantime! much love! ! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

permanent taglist: @civilbucky @globetrotter28 (i swear there was someone else who wanted to be added, pls let me know if that was you i lost your comment)

main masterlist

The first thing Wanda had told you about Bucky Barnes was to beware. 

Proceed with caution.

You were the type to fall in love easily, it was one of the first things you had confessed to Wanda, wine-drunk only a week after moving into her dodgy shoebox of an apartment, where the previous tenant's mail still showed up—and so did their debt collector. You were new in the city, bright-eyed and overly romantic about all you encountered, including the suspicious stains on the carpet courtesy of Wanda’s old roommate, who she only referred to as ‘that nightmarish cunt’. Wanda was cool, chic yet edgy, her voice dripping a Slavic accent and always armed with a dangerous look in her eye. She worked downtown as a sous chef at one of those mid-tier restaurants that you considered fancy, but anyone even marginally higher than your pay grade wouldn’t look twice. 

Her boyfriend, Sam, worked at a bar across the road. Howling Commandos. He co-owned it with his buddy, the infamous Bucky Barnes. They had met while serving in the army, both retiring early from service. Sam was discharged after an injury that rendered him ‘useless’, and Bucky was discharged shortly after on grounds of mental health. 

And maybe that was the allure—the myth of Bucky Barnes. 

He was handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed, the usual fairy-tale rom-com affair. He was brooding, damaged goods, and had a real chip on his shoulder since his discharge. He poured a good drink, kept the bar running smoothly, and was big enough to intimidate drunk frat boys who occasionally wandered in looking for a fight. But apparently, he didn’t do relationships. He would fuck anything that moved if it caught his fleeting attention for long enough, but that was it. 

Wanda had confessed it all to you on that dreaded wine-drunk night, hummus and carrot sticks forgotten as the TV blared Wanda’s Spotify playlist on loop. She’d had a friend, one who had moved away now, but that friend had slept with Bucky. Said it was the best lay of her life. 

So, Wanda had said, voice dipped as she gave you a drunken, sloppy grin over her Pinot Gris, the two bottles she had pinched from work now empty. If you want the night of your life, go for it, but don’t expect anything more. 

That was the rule with Bucky Barnes:

Don’t get attached. 

So, maybe foolishly, when Wanda had roused you from a hangover-induced nap the following day by asking if you wanted to join her at the Howling Commandos and continue your bender from the night before, you had taken the leap. 

–

Howling Commandos didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.

It had the look of a place that had seen one too many late nights and even more bad decisions. Exposed brick walls, low-hanging lights that shrouded the room in a dim orange glow, and a row of pool tables tucked in the back behind a collection of stained wood tables and chairs.  It was edgy, kind of dark and mysterious, much like the infamous bartender who now stood before you in the flesh. 

You and Wanda had descended upon the bar at half-past nine, arms linked, laughter spilling between you. You’d gelled quickly—your soft, unguarded friendliness balancing out her wicked smirks and razor-edged sarcasm.

She swung into a barstool with the ease of someone who belonged here, peeling off her winter coat and tossing it onto the counter, shaking the snow from her auburn hair. Across from her, Bucky barely spared her a glance, his mouth set in a line that could have been annoyance or indifference.

“Wanda.” His voice was low, unimpressed.

That was all he said. No hello, no warmth. Just her name, like it was something to be tolerated.

Wanda only grinned, leaning her elbows onto the bar like she had all the time in the world.

“Sam’s out back,” Bucky added, eyes flicking toward the door before sliding right past her, landing on you instead. “Still picking up strays, I see.”

You grinned before you could help yourself, slipping into the seat next to Wanda. As you shrugged off your coat, neatly sliding it into your lap, Wanda let out a mock-horrified gasp on your behalf. 

“So rude, this is my new roommate.” Wanda’s eyes slid over to you, head tilting as she gestured towards the scowling Bucky. “And this dickhead is Bucky. He’s co-owner with Sam.”

“I remember.” You replied with ease, your gaze and smile unwavering even as Bucky gave a noncommittal grunt, turning away to continue polishing the glass in his palm. 

Wanda, unbothered by his callousness, leant in. “I’m going to be honest, I need a drink ASAP. I’ve got an awful headache, and you know what I always say! Best way to beat a hangover? Drink even more.”

“Does Sam know you’re an alcoholic?” Bucky cut back, not even bothering to turn around. 

“Awwh, Buck, is that genuine care?”

“Not for you.” Bucky snipped.

Wanda made a mock pout face, fingers drumming across the bar. “But seriously, put me out of my misery here—”

“Your usual?” He cut over her.

Wanda didn’t skip a beat. 

“Pretty please,” she purred, her tone sweet and syrupy, dripping with exaggerated charm. As she settled more comfortably into the stool, her gaze flicked to you with a knowing gleam. “What do you want? On the house.”

Before you could respond, Sam’s voice rang out, thick with amused exasperation. “Baby, you can’t go offering drinks on the house to everyone—” He appeared from the back, a box of bottled spirits cradled in his arms,

“She’s my roommate—” Wanda began, but Sam cut her off, raising an eyebrow as he set the box down with a thud.

“Oh yeah? I haven’t forgotten the last one that you also insisted could have free drinks, and she turned out to be—”

“Don’t! Don’t bring up that cunt—”

You tuned out the conversation as Wanda slipped from her seat, weaving around the bar with the kind of effortless grace that came with knowing she belonged. She leaned into Sam’s space without hesitation, her laughter slipping through the low hum of the bar, threading between the murmur of voices and the scratchy tune spilling from the jukebox in the corner.

It wasn’t until Bucky slid a glass of dark liquor across the bar—precisely where Wanda had been sitting—that you finally tore your gaze away from them.

His eyes found yours, expectant, unmoving.

“It’s okay, I can pay,” you assured him, reaching for your wallet, but his unimpressed stare didn’t waver. His silence stretched, almost as if he were waiting for you to back down first.

You didn’t. “Gin and tonic.”

No acknowledgement, not even a nod. He simply turned, reaching for the bottle of gin without a word.

Wanda reappeared beside you, collapsing back into her seat with a dramatic sigh, a sound that quickly dissolved into a giggle as Sam pressed a quick kiss to her cheek on his way past. The small moment of affection made you smile, your gaze trailing after him as he made his way toward the pool tables. He moved with familiarity, exchanging greetings with the patrons, his presence met with easy grins and back pats.

“He’s cute,” you hummed, watching him settle into the space like he owned it.

“I know, right?” Wanda smirked, pulling her drink closer.

You propped an elbow on the bar, your curiosity piqued. “How’d you meet?”

She took a slow sip, savouring the taste before setting the glass down. It looked like rum and coke. Smelt like it too. “He used to come to my work all the time when they were fixing up this place. We just got to talking one day and—”

Bucky set your drink in front of you with the same quiet precision as before, cutting off Wanda’s sentence mid-thought. You turned your attention back to him, offering a bright smile that didn’t falter, even as he met it with a frown.

“I’ve never liked those,” Wanda barely spared him a glance, instead eyeing your drink with mild disdain. “Not sweet enough for me.”

“Well, I like my drinks how I like my men,” you replied, the words coming with a smirk that you directed toward Bucky, holding his gaze longer than you probably should have. “Bitter.”

—

Shivering in the back alley by the dumpsters probably wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, you were committed.

You and Wanda had knocked back one too many drinks—again. It was becoming a habit, one that Sam was starting to take personally, considering he was the one who had to cut Wanda off after she got a little too liberal with her chatting and nearly convinced a stranger to let her wear his coat home. You, on the other hand, had managed to slip out gracefully, settling your tab before Wanda was carted out back to be babysat and force-fed water.

Neither of them had been thrilled at the idea of you walking home alone. Buzzed, barely dressed for the weather, and just reckless enough to make poor decisions, you’d assured them you were fine. Which, technically, was true. What you had failed to mention was that you hadn’t actually made it more than a few feet out the door before deciding to truly test the limits of your dignity.

The cigarette hanging from your lips wobbled slightly as you tried—unsuccessfully—to light it with numb fingers. You swore under your breath, stuffing the useless lighter back into your pocket just as the back door of Howling Commandos swung open.

And as fate—or some cruel, all-seeing god—would have it, it wasn’t Sam or Wanda who stepped outside.

Bucky emerged, a black trash bag slung over one shoulder, his usual scowl fixed in place. His stride slowed slightly when he caught sight of you, his expression unreadable.

“Thought you went home,” he muttered. “Sam and Wanda already left. If you need a ride, I can call you a cab.”

You tilted your head, watching as he moved, efficient, mechanical. The back door groaned shut behind him, its echo swallowed by the muffled city noise beyond the alley. Dumpster lid up, bag tossed in, blue eyes flicking back to you, waiting.

“I don’t need a ride.”

His gaze swept over you, unimpressed. “Sure about that? You look outta your damn mind right now.”

You exhaled, breath clouding the frigid air as you shoved your hands deeper into your coat pockets. The wind bit through the alleyway, slithering beneath the fur-trimmed collar and creeping up your spine.

“Well, when I had this brilliant idea, I was still drunk,” you admitted, shifting your weight on unsteady legs. “Now that alcohol’s worn off and it’s cold as shit, I can’t even fuckin’ light a smoke ‘cause my hands are shaking so bad.”

You lifted your fingers to prove your point, stiff and trembling from the cold, flashing him a lazy grin. He did not look impressed.

“This a cry for help? I don’t know what it is with Wanda and picking up crazy fuckin’ roommates—”

“I wanted to get your number.” You shrugged, unbothered by the scepticism in his tone. “Didn’t want to do it in the bar, figured you’re a private kinda guy, don’t like putting your business out for the world. I can respect that.”

He blinked, once. Then, slowly, “So you thought the next best option was to wait in a back alley in the snow—?”

“Hey,” you cut him off with a laugh, shifting your weight against the wall. “I said I was drunk when I came up with it… never said it was a good plan.”

Something flickered across his expression. Dry amusement, maybe. Then, to your surprise, he huffed out a short laugh, his breath visible in the cold air curling between you.

You smirked. “C’mon, I’ve been out here for like… an hour. Least you can do is give me your number.”

He took his time looking you over, slow and assessing. Despite the heavy winter coat hanging off your shoulders, you were still grossly underdressed for the weather. The short, tight-fitting dress clung to you like a second skin, courtesy of Wanda’s slut-shaming is sooo 2016 speech. A poor choice in hindsight, considering the temperature was bordering on unbearable.

“I’ll do you one better.”

You arched a brow. “Yeah?”

His voice dipped lower, something rougher curling at the edges. “How about I lock up, and you sit your pretty little ass in my car? I’ll drive you back to mine.” A beat. “Sound good?”

Now, this was the Bucky Barnes Wanda had described—the dangerous one, the elusive ladykiller. The shift had been minuscule, yet you already found your panties were wet.

You smiled. “Well, now you’re talking my language.”

—

"We should stop seeing each other."

Bucky sat hunched on the edge of his bed, forearms braced against his knees, fingers laced tightly together as if he were holding himself back. He didn’t look at you. His jaw was set, his mouth a firm line, but that wasn’t what unsettled you—it was the tension in his shoulders, the restless bounce of his leg, the way he exhaled through his nose like he was already regretting this conversation.

That first night had been the spark, but the fire never quite burned out. It carried on in flickering embers, nights tangled in his sheets, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, bodies moving in time with the city’s restless heartbeat. If you had to put a name to it, fuck buddies was the closest fit, though even that felt too familiar, too warm. There were no tender morning-afters, no texts outside of arranging the next meeting. You met him in the alley after closing and let him drive you back to his place. Though sometimes, you never made it that far. Sometimes, it was the backseat of his car, windows fogged, streetlights streaking across his skin as you clawed at his shoulders. Other times, it was rushed and desperate, your palms braced against crates in the storeroom, breath hitching between half-suppressed moans before either of you had the sense to lock the damn door.

But as winter thawed into spring, something shifted.

The first crack in the foundation came when Bucky, against all odds, accepted your half-hearted invite to grab a bite to eat. You’d won a cheap voucher for a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place around the corner from the bar, fully expecting him to wave you off. But he hadn’t. And somehow, the two of you had ended up crammed into a booth, sharing a pile of nachos, snickering into your drinks as you watched a group of college kids make absolute fools of themselves. You wouldn’t have called it a date—Bucky sure as hell didn’t—but something about it felt different. Easier. The way he’d nudged his plate toward you when he noticed you eyeing his last taco. The way he leaned just a little too close, voice dropping low in your ear, murmuring some dry remark that made you snort into your margarita.

You weren’t sure when the line blurred. Maybe it was when your not-date nights became just as routine as your hookups. Or maybe it was at Wanda’s birthday dinner when Bucky—without thinking, without hesitation—draped his arm across the back of your chair, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against the bare skin of your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed at first, too caught up in conversation, but Wanda and Sam sure as hell had. They shared a look, one of those wordless exchanges, tight-lipped and knowing. Like they were bracing for the inevitable. Like they could already see the fallout creeping on the horizon.

And they were right.

Because after a year of effortless, reckless bliss, Bucky finally reached his limit.

You should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve known that letting Wanda rope you into planning his surprise birthday party was a mistake. That something so personal, so full of effort, would make him withdraw. It was all too much. Too close. Too intimate for someone who spent his life keeping people at arm’s length.

And just like that, the fire snuffed out.

Your grip tightened around the box in your hands, the crinkling of the wrapping paper comically loud in the quiet room. The laughter and chatter from the party outside felt like a world away, muffled through the walls of his bedroom. You had pulled him aside to give him his present in private, and now it sat between you like a hand grenade, pin already pulled, waiting for the explosion.

“Are you going to open your present? Hand-picked by yours truly, I made sure not to let Sam meddle with those prank gifts of his—” You ignored his words, shoving the brightly wrapped box towards him. He barely glanced at it before waving it off, his scowl deepening.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Bucky interrupted you, expression nowhere near impressed

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you serious?” The sigh that left you was excessive, the once bubbly and sweet aura you wrapped yourself up in so tightly melting away in an instant. 

You should have known.

He had been off all week. Distant, restless. He’d stopped waiting for you in the back alley after his shifts ended, ignored your texts, and let your calls go to voicemail. Hell, he hadn’t even invited you over to fuck in two weeks, and that was the foundation of whatever this was between you. You’d told yourself it was the late winter blues—snow had been falling thick for weeks now even with spring looming closer by the day. Maybe, you had told yourself, it was some kind of early mid-life crisis with his birthday looming.

But deep down, you’d known better. You’d felt it in the way he couldn’t meet your eyes anymore, how his touch had cooled from burning to indifferent. It was like a switch had flipped, turning lust into something close to disgust.

“I’m serious,” Bucky said, exhaling like the conversation had already exhausted him. He rubbed a hand down his face, eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder as if looking at you would make this harder. Or maybe easier. “We should stop… whatever this is.”

The present now sat on the bed, abandoned between you. You placed it down with deliberate care, fingers smoothing over the edges as you mulled over his words. Beyond the walls, the party raged on, voices rising in drunken harmony as Sweet Caroline blared over the speakers. A chorus of shouts—touchin’ me, touchin’ you—mocked the silence stretching between you.

You knew there was no point in arguing, not when Bucky had already made up his mind, disillusioned or not. But the question still burned its way up your throat before you could stop it, raw and sharp as you met his gaze.

“Why?”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

However he had expected you to react, this clearly wasn’t it. Maybe he thought you’d cry. Maybe he thought you’d yell. But you had never been the type for tears or begging. You just wanted the truth. The cold, ruthless reason why this wasn’t working anymore.

“Yes. Why? What’s changed?”

Bucky hesitated, something flickering across his face. Hesitation, regret, guilt, maybe all three. Then, his jaw tensed, and he forced the words out like they tasted bitter on his tongue.

“You’re… You’re just too much. You’re too much for me.”

Your head tilted slightly, observing him. He still wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Too much, huh?” You echoed, voice steady despite the way your stomach twisted. “And how exactly am I too much?”

He sighed, exasperated. “You’re just… overbearing. You always want to text or call, or stop by the bar. You’re always asking after me with Sam and Wanda. It’s all just a little too much, doll. This was supposed to be a casual thing.” His fingers flexed at his sides, his frustration palpable. “You’re just—”

“So, you’re punishing me because I care?”

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying, Bucky?” Your voice sharpened, and your patience unravelling. “That I’m clingy? That I’m suffocating you? Is it such a crime that I want to spend time with you—”

“You’re just—fuckin’ everywhere.” His voice rose, and you arched a brow, arms folding over your chest. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I swear to God. Every thought I have, everything I do—you’re there. I dream about you. And sometimes, I swear I smell that goddamn perfume of yours even when you’re not around—”

“Bucky.” You took a step forward, searching his face for something, anything. “Have you ever considered that maybe this is happening because you like me? Not because I’m some overbearing burden in your life—”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his entire body stiff.

“I don’t do relationships.”

You let out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking your head. “So, what then? You’re just gonna cut me off? I got too close, didn’t I? Too close to you—to the real you, the one you hide under all that brooding, tough-guy bullshit—so now you’re pushing me away?”

Bucky’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing.

You exhaled sharply, your patience splintering under the weight of his silence. “You know, Wanda warned me this would happen. Sam too. Hell, just about everyone out there did.” You gestured vaguely toward the door, toward the muffled chaos of the party beyond his bedroom. Laughter and music seeped through the walls. “Your friends, your colleagues. They all warned me. Guess I’m the idiot for thinking it’d be different, huh?”

His gaze flickered. A barely-there flinch. You pressed on.

“They told me you throw people away when they get too attached.” Your voice softened, but not with kindness, with something hollow, something resigned. “Or worse, when you do.”

His breath hitched, so quick and so subtle that if you hadn’t been watching him so closely, you would’ve missed it. But you saw it: the crack, the hesitation, the battle waging behind those sharp blue eyes.

For a second, it almost looked like he might break. Like he might finally say what he was really thinking.

But then, just as quickly as it appeared, the moment was gone. His expression hardened, every ounce of warmth draining from his face.

“I don’t need you.”

And just like that, the last ember of hope inside you burned out.

You swallowed against the ache in your throat, but your voice came steady, unwavering. “Is that the truth?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Or are you just telling yourself that to feel better?”

His eyes darkened, and this time, there was no hesitation.

“Get out.”

—

You weren’t sure why you came back to the Howling Commandos.

You were beginning to suspect that Wanda and Sam were scheming something. She was constantly begging you to visit the bar every night off she had with the promise of free liquor. It had taken a few weeks after Bucky’s birthday meltdown for you to finally budge. Maybe it was the way Wanda had pulled you along, her arm hooked through yours like she could drag you away from the weight of it all. Maybe it was the way she made you laugh, tipping her head back, auburn hair catching in the bar’s dim light, her wicked look as she shrugged off her coat and flung it onto the counter. Maybe it was because you knew he would be here.

And, maybe, just maybe, you wanted that.

Bucky stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, jaw tight as he poured a whiskey neat without looking up. He must’ve heard you come in like he always did, but his eyes never once lifted from his work.

You perched upon one of the barstools beside Wanda, the wood sticky beneath your elbows, the orange glow from the bar’s lights catching in the condensation on your glass. A gin and tonic. No words exchanged, no request needed, just Bucky’s hand sliding it across the table without so much as a glance in your direction.

It was almost funny, the way he refused to look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge you beyond the ghost of a touch as his fingers brushed the glass. And yet, he still remembered your drink. Still took the time to slice a bit of lemon for the rim, just the way you liked it. Never mind that he’d once grumbled about how much he hated customers who ordered anything that meant extra cleanup at the end of the night.

“You gonna sulk all night or actually have fun?” Wanda teased, knocking her knee against yours.

You took a slow sip, letting the cool burn of gin settle on your tongue before answering. “I am having fun.”

“Sure you are,” she drawled, not buying it for a second.

But the night wasn’t all bad. You were feeling good, maybe a little too good, laughing at Sam’s exaggerated retelling of a story you’d already heard a dozen times, Wanda snorting into her rum, the buzz settling in like a second skin.

But the uneasy peace did not last long, as chaos had a way of following Bucky Barnes like his own shadow.

Two guys, a little too confident, a little too eager. You felt them before you even turned, whiskey on their breath, a practiced smirk tugging at the lips. The kind of men who smelled like cheap aftershave and overconfidence, sliding into your space with easy grins and empty compliments. One leaned in too close. “Didn’t think someone like you would be drinking alone.”

You arched a brow. “Who says I’m alone?”

He took the bait, smirking. “That right? Where’s your boyfriend, then?”

“Don’t have one.” You replied, tone disinterested.

He grasped your arm, and you yanked it away, nearly elbowing Wanda beside you in the process. “Oh yeah? I could change that for you sweetheart—” 

You didn’t have time to answer before you saw the bar flap shoot up in your peripherals. 

“Hey, man,” Sam warned, barely getting the words out before Bucky was there, a cloud at the edge of your vision, muscles wound tight beneath his shirt. He wasn’t looking at you, not really, but you could feel the storm rolling off him in waves, the tension singing through his frame.

The guy didn’t even have time to react before Bucky shoved him back—hard enough to knock him off balance, sending his drink sloshing onto the floor.

“The fuck?” Whiskey-breath scowled, stumbling forward like he thought he had a chance.

Bucky stepped in, jaw clenched, fist already curled like a promise. His voice was smooth, even. “Out. Now.”

The guy scoffed, straightening. “Oh yeah? What are you, the bouncer?”

“Nah.” Bucky tilted his head. “I fuckin’ own the place.”

Sam was rounding the bar, slipping beneath the bar flap. “One rule, Bucky! We have one rule!”

“No assholes in the bar?” Bucky deadpanned, flexing his fingers.

“No. No punching customers—hey!”

Too late.

The first punch landed with a sickening crack, sharp enough to slice through the low hum of conversation. A brief, stunned silence settled over the bar, glasses paused mid-air, a cue ball rolling to a stop on the felt. Then, a gasp. A sharp inhale. Someone let out a bark of laughter.

The guy staggered back, clutching his jaw, blinking like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. But instead of learning his lesson, he surged forward, swinging blindly in a desperate attempt to save face.

The impact came from the right. A solid hit, knuckles cutting against Bucky’s brow. His head snapped slightly to the side, strands of dark hair falling loose from where they’d been tucked behind his ears. The second punch followed fast—less precise, more frantic—but it clipped him along the cheekbone, just enough to split the skin.

A thin trail of red welled up, tracking down the sharp line of his face.

Bucky stilled.

A slow, dangerous exhale. Then, before the guy could so much as blink, Bucky struck. A brutal, efficient one-two, fist slamming into ribs, then an upward cut that sent the man sprawling. His friend hesitated, torn between pride and self-preservation, before grabbing a fistful of his collar and dragging him toward the door.

Bucky flexed his fingers, shaking out his hand like he was testing for damage, like he barely felt it. The cut above his brow was bleeding, a slow trickle of crimson trailing towards his temple, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

You took a sip of your drink, eyes flicking lazily towards him, your pulse not even kicking up. Beside you, Wanda didn’t so much as blink; she just swirled the last of her rum and coke, watching the scene unfold like it was a rerun of a show she’d seen too many times before.

Finally, with a knowing smirk, she leaned in, voice low and honey-smooth. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

You swirled your gin and tonic, ice clinking against the glass, lips curling around the rim as you took another sip.

“Maybe.”

—

The back room was cold, the kind of cold that settled deep in the bones, seeping through the exposed brick walls. A single bulb hung overhead, casting a dim, yellow glow over the stacked crates of liquor and the metal shelves lined with bottles. You’d been in here many times, though usually under much more pleasurable circumstances. Bucky sat on an overturned crate, elbows on his knees, blood drying along the ridge of his knuckles. His head was tipped slightly forward, shoulders hunched as he rolled one of his split knuckles between his fingers, like he was testing if it still hurt. 

You shut the door behind you.

His jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

You ignored him, stepping past the crates and grabbing the first aid kit off the nearest shelf. “Sit up straight.”

He didn’t move.

So, with a sigh, you pressed a firm hand to his shoulder and shoved him upright. He let it happen, though he shot you an unamused look as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Jesus, you’re pushy.”

You crouched in front of him, flipping open the first aid kit, the sharp scent of antiseptic filling the air. He watched as you poured alcohol onto a clean cloth, soaking it through before pressing it against the cut above his brow.

Bucky flinched, fingers twitching like he wanted to grab your wrist, to stop you. But he didn’t.

“Hold still,” you murmured, dabbing at the wound.

His lip curled slightly, but he stayed put, letting you clean the blood away. His fists clenched on his thighs, shoulders wound tight like he was waiting for something worse.

“You know,” you said, voice light despite the weight in the air, “I heard from Wanda you’ve been losing it lately.”

Bucky huffed. “Yeah?”

“She said you’ve been missing shifts, and when you do turn up, you’re, uh…” You smirked, twisting the cloth to clean the edge of his jaw. “Well, these are her words, not mine—a miserable old cunt. Keep picking fights with customers.” You paused, waiting to see his response. His lips remained sown shut, his gaze cold, and he did not quite meet your eye. With an arch of your brow, you continued.

“Apparently, someone broke into your car, and you’re getting kicked out of your apartment because your landlord wants to sell it to some construction assholes.” You tilted your head, studying him. “I mean, some of that isn’t your fault, but it sounds like karma to me.”

Bucky’s fingers flexed. “Why do you care, doll?”

“I don’t,” you said easily, wringing out the cloth before pressing it against his brow again. “It’s like… watching a car wreck. Kind of captivating in a way.”

He let out a short, humourless laugh. “You’re fucked up.”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” You shrugged, barely glancing at him as you grabbed another clean cloth. “But I think, deep down, maybe I just pity you.”

Bucky’s expression darkened. “Why are you so normal about all of this? Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to be, I don’t know, freaking out? I was the one who dropped you, not the other way around.”

You paused, the cloth still pressed to his skin. You considered his words, then slowly and calmly, you replied. “It’s your own heart that you’re breaking, baby.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You don’t know that.”

“I think I do.”

His lips parted like he was about to argue, but instead, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You don’t know shit about me.”

You sat back on your heels, observing him. The bruises were darkening across his cheekbones, his knuckles still raw, and his body shuddering from the aftermath. But beneath it all—under the cold defiance and the sharp edges—you saw it. The weight of something unspoken, something he wouldn’t admit to himself.

You hummed, tilting your head. “I know a lot.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered to you, wary.

“I know that you take your coffee black, your whiskey neat,” you said, voice soft. “That you always make your bed because it’s a habit from when you served. You prefer to drive stick. You’re a cat person.” 

You held his gaze, watching the way his fingers curled. “I know that you wear two sets of dog tags. That there are ghosts following you that you don’t talk about. I know that you realised you were getting attached to me. That it scared you so badly you dropped me the moment it clicked.”

“I know that you still ask after me,” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know that deep down, you care about me.”

Silence settled between you. 

Bucky stared at his hands, dried blood caking along the ridges of his knuckles. He was still for a long time, so long you thought maybe he wasn’t going to respond at all. 

“This… this thing between us.” His voice was rough. “It was a fling. Nothing more. A moment in time, not to be repeated.”

You inhaled slowly, disappointment evident, then stood.

With an easy motion, you tossed the bloodied rag onto a nearby crate.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you murmured, stepping back.

Bucky looked up at you, something flickering behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

You just smiled.

“Because I know,” you said simply, turning toward the door, “that in the end, you’ll come crawling back to me.”

“I won’t.”

You glanced over your shoulder, the corners of your lips curling.

“Okay.”

—

The cemetery was quiet, save for the whisper of wind through bare branches and the distant hum of traffic beyond the iron gates. The last bite of winter still clung to the air, spring struggling to take hold, leaving the sky an endless stretch of pale grey.

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself as you stepped out of Sam’s car, boots crunching against the gravel path. Wanda climbed out from the passenger side, rubbing her arms against the cold, while Sam exhaled sharply, tilting his head towards the small gathering of headstones up ahead.

“He’s already here,” he murmured.

Bucky stood with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his back to you, his head slightly bowed toward the grave. Even from a distance, there was a tension in the way he held himself—like he was bracing for impact or maybe just trying to keep from unravelling.

You tightened your grip on the flowers in your hand and followed Sam and Wanda towards him.

Bucky didn’t turn when you approached, but you saw his shoulders shift, the slight tensing of his jaw when he realised there was one more person than expected. He still didn’t say anything, though, just kept his eyes on the headstone.

Steve Rogers.

The name was carved deep into the stone, clean and straightforward. No rank, no medals, no accolades. Just a name. A man who had meant something to them.

You hadn’t even known Steve existed until Sam mentioned him offhand a few days ago, his voice softer than usual, the usual humour dimmed. He hadn’t given many details—just that Steve was an old friend, someone he and Bucky had served with, and that the anniversary of his death was coming up. It hadn’t been an invitation, just a passing remark, but something about it stuck with you. Maybe it was the way Sam glanced at Bucky afterwards, concern hidden beneath his easygoing demeanour or the way Wanda’s expression darkened slightly like she’d been expecting it. You didn’t know anything about the man they were mourning, but you knew Bucky, and you knew the kind of grief that sat heavily on a person’s shoulders. Maybe you wanted to pay your respects. Perhaps you just wanted an excuse to get eyes on him, to see how bad the damage was. Either way, when Wanda and Sam left for the cemetery, you were in the car with them.

You stepped forward and crouched down, laying the flowers gently against the grave. The wind tugged at the petals as you stood, moving back beside Wanda, who sent you a glance but didn’t say a word.

Sam was the first to speak. “Damn, Steve. I hope you know we visit you even in the freezing fuckin’ cold.”

A small chuckle rumbled from Bucky’s chest, barely there. “Yeah.”

Sam exhaled, shaking his head. “You know, I think about that time in training when Bucky dared you to climb the roof of the barracks, and when you actually did it, Bucky nearly had a heart attack ‘cause you realised he’d have to go up there to get you down.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head. “Idiot did a victory pose at the top. Almost fell straight off.”

Sam laughed. “Man, I wish we had taken a photo of you, dumbass.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, trading stories, some funny, some quiet and unspoken, shared only through small glances and nods. Wanda stood beside you, hands clasped in front of her, while you listened, letting them have their moment. She hadn’t known Steve either, just fragments of memories and stories Sam had told her over the years.

Eventually, the cold started to settle in deep, and Sam clapped his hands together. “Alright, I don’t know, but I think Steve would be personally offended if we froze our asses off standing here like idiots instead of heading home.”

Wanda nodded, already turning back toward the cars. You followed, but before you could take more than a few steps, Bucky spoke.

“I’ll take her home.”

The words were short, and clipped, but they made Wanda and Sam pause.

Sam lifted a brow, glancing between the two of you, then exchanged a look with Wanda, one of those unspoken conversations between lovers that didn’t need words.

But neither of them argued.

Sam just gave a small, knowing shrug and started toward his car. Wanda followed without a word, though you could’ve sworn the auburn gave you a subtle smirk.

You exhaled softly, then turned towards Bucky’s car.

The drive was quiet.

Outside, the world blurred past, fields and roads stretching under the grey sky. You kept your hands close to the vents, soaking in what little warmth the car offered, your fingers still stiff from the cold. Bucky’s grip on the wheel was tight, his knuckles pale. He was wound up, his shoulders rigid, and his jaw locked. The muscles in his forearms twitched as he shifted gears, and every so often, he exhaled sharply like he was biting back something sharp.

Minutes passed, the ghost of unspoken words swirling between you.

Then, suddenly—

“Fuck this.” Bucky muttered the words under his breath, his grip on the wheel tightening before he jerked the car off the highway. The tyres crunched over gravel as he turned onto a narrow backroad leading toward a small, empty picnic area near a river. The place was deserted, picnic tables dusted with half-melted frost. Too cold for anyone to be out.

You sat there, the hum of the engine the only sound between you. The sky outside had darkened, clouds pressing down low on the horizon as the river lazily wound its way through the mist. Bucky’s hands gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, his eyes fixed on the view outside. 

“How did you know about Steve?” The question left his lips quietly, almost like an afterthought, but it was sharp all the same.

“Sam.” You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. “I kind of put the pieces together. It’s his dog tags you wear, right?” Your voice came out soft but steady.

Bucky gave a single, sharp nod. “Yeah.”

You sighed, glancing out the window for a brief second. The weight in his voice, the way he carried it like an old wound, told you this was something fragile, something that had never quite healed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just…” You trailed off, the words dying on your tongue, uncertain, too small for the grief that lingered between you. Your gaze flickered to his, but he wasn’t looking at you.

His voice, when it came again, was quieter than before. “Steve... Steve, he wasn’t just my friend. He was my partner.”

Something inside you stilled. The breath you’d been meaning to take got caught in your chest. “You were… together? Dating?”

“Yeah.” His voice wavered, unsteady in a way that made your stomach twist. “We were, uh, in love, I guess.”

The words hit you like a cold gust, Something in your mind clicked into place, pieces of him you hadn’t understood suddenly making sense. You stared at him, taking in the way his brows furrowed, the way the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes seemed more pronounced now, like he’d aged in the last few minutes.

“Did Sam know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, jaw tight. “A few people did. His family, mine. A few friends.”

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed, trying to push past the lump forming in your throat. The words felt inadequate, almost meaningless. “I know my words don’t mean much or change anything, but I truly am sorry that you lost someone that important to you.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, the leather creaking beneath his hold. His eyes stayed locked on the river, but he wasn’t really seeing it. He was somewhere else.

Then, barely above a whisper, “He stood on a landmine.”

Bucky’s voice was rough, worn thin. “He was dead before… before he would have even realised he’d stepped on it. They never really recovered all of his body. He just kinda… turned into mist.”

You felt your stomach drop. A slow, creeping horror curled around your ribs, sinking its claws in deep. “You saw it?”

“Yeah.”

“Bucky, that’s horrific, I—”  You felt your words die in your throat. What was there to say? There was no comfort for something like that. No words that could make it hurt less.

Then, slowly, his head turned, an empty, haunted gaze meeting yours. “That coffin out there, it’s empty. We do this every year, but it’s like talking to the wind.”

The words were like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, your throat tight with the rawness of it. Slowly, you reached across the console, your fingers brushing against his arm. “He didn’t suffer.”

“No.” Bucky's voice broke for the first time. “No, I suppose I should be thankful for that.” A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away with a rough, almost impatient hand. But he didn’t pull away from your touch. Didn’t move to hide the way his hands shook, fingers still locked in a vice grip around the wheel.

You didn’t comment on it.

You kept your hand on his arm, a steady presence against the tension coiled beneath his skin. There was nothing to say—at least, nothing that would make any of it easier. He had already said enough, and you weren’t going to insult him by pretending there were magic words to fix it. So you simply stayed, grounding him in the quiet, hoping that maybe, just maybe, letting even a sliver of it out might lighten the weight he carried.

The silence stretched, thick but not uncomfortable, the kind that settled in the space between two people who understood each other without needing to fill the gaps with empty words. A sharp gust of wind rattled against the window, slipping through unseen cracks and sending a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t move. Neither did he.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bucky turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours, raw, searching, like he was looking for something he wasn’t even sure existed. His throat bobbed, lips parting as he exhaled a slow, uneven breath. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked, taken aback. “For what?”

“How I’ve treated you these past few weeks.”

“Baby, you don’t need to apologise—”

“No, I do.” He interrupted tone tinged with frustration. “I… I realised that I cared for you. A lot. And it scared the shit out of me. After Steve, well, I swore I wouldn’t love again. I couldn’t… I couldn’t imagine going through that again. Or worse, if I died and left someone behind like that—”

You shook your head, cutting him off gently. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not though—” he began, but you interrupted him again, your voice calm, sure.

“I forgive you.”

Bucky went still, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words. His jaw clenched, his eyes flicking between you and the river, as if weighing something in his mind.

A long, charged silence settled in. Then, just as you thought the moment would pass, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You’re sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure.” You smiled softly. “Listen. I didn’t know Steve, and I never will but… if he cared for you. If he loved you, he’d want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you to shut yourself away from love, from feeling.”

“Honestly…” Bucky paused, sucking on his teeth. “Honestly, you’re probably right, doll.”

Bucky let out a slow breath, staring ahead like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“I still don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice quiet. “Loving someone. Letting someone love me.”

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Good thing I’m patient.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, that much is obvious.” Bucky glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, something unreadable flickering across his expression. Then, almost too softly to hear, “I want to try.”

You reached over, lacing your fingers through his. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

His grip tightened, just for a second like he was anchoring himself to you. And then, as if realising how ridiculous he sounded, he let out a low laugh, disbelief lacing his tone. “You’re too good for me, doll.”

“Hmm, maybe.” You giggled, leaning towards him, resting your forehead against his shoulder for a brief moment, letting the warmth between you settle. “I think I’ll stick around, though.”

“Yeah?” His voice held a tinge of uncertainty like he was testing the waters. His arm shifted, moving from the wheel to pull you closer to his side. “I haven’t scared you off?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, grinning. “I think you’d have to try a little harder to do that.”

He held you closer, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “So…” He paused, his breath hitching as if the words were caught in his throat. “Would you stick around… as my girlfriend?”

You jolted up, eyes widening in surprise. “Did the Bucky Barnes just ask me—”

“Shush, you.” He chuckled, cutting you off, his finger moving to gently press against your lips.

You smiled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek, and he tugged you in closer, his grip firm but not demanding. His lips found yours, slow at first, testing—like he was still convincing himself this was okay, that he could have this. But as you melted into him, your fingers curling against the fabric of his jacket, something shifted. His hand slid up your back, anchoring you against him, his lips warm, sure, moving against yours with a quiet intensity.

You sighed into him, your breath mingling with his, the space between you disappearing until there was nothing but the press of his body, the soft scrape of his stubble against your skin. His fingers skimmed the nape of your neck, tilting your head slightly, and he kissed you again, slower this time, savouring it like he wanted to memorise the way you felt against him.

The world outside blurred, the hum of the car engine distant, unimportant. There was only this, only him, his warmth, the quiet, desperate way he held you like he was afraid to let go.

When you pulled away, Bucky let out a sharp sigh as if something inside him had finally relaxed. “Thank god, it would be kind of awkward if you didn’t—”

You silenced him with another kiss, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

A spark reignited. 

[aeragan]

ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴍᴇʀ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): messmer x gn reader

✧ a/n: chat is it like financially acceptable to buy a $260 collectors edition when you already have the game just for a statue of a guy You Like Too Much (do i have a thing for redheads?) also before anyone says "you can do anything you put your mind to" i can but also all i imagine is him splitting me in half so penetration... i know that he's messmer the impaler but not of this boypussy he aint

🗒 cw: SMUT, SHADOW OF THE ERDTREE SPOILERS, gn reader, tarnished reader, size difference, a little ooc, frotting, thigh jobs, handjobs, oral, accidental manhandling, hair pulling, praise, pesudo-bondage(?), not proofread

✎ wc: 1.1k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Intimacy is a long abandoned thought within the lands between. Long gone are the days of tenderness, and in their wake, only blood and steel remain. That is to say, MESSMER is a virgin. Painfully so.

Sex is quite the foreign concept for someone who’s being is steeped within the flames of war. The most love he had known was his mother’s coddling before she had disappeared, and in his rage, he had never sought out another form of love. Torn between the want for his mother to look down upon him once more, and the need to kill, to earn her approval once more, the thought of loving another, of trusting another with his body, his mind, his heart, it is near unfathomable.

And yet, here you were. Someone who stirred such benevolent (and more) feelings within him. How so utterly kind of you to share with him your heart, your mind, your body. He must repay you in kind, of course.

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room, or the snakes in the room, if you will. He feels quite embarrassed to have them there when you two… engage. While they understand and know his feelings– and they were the very obvious sign of his interest in you– to him, it’s the equivalent of having your pet in the room while you have sex. He makes them look away, since that is about all he can do. It is quite awkward your first time. But, they’ll come into play, later.

Due to MESSMER’s size, he is quite nervous about entering you, even with his fingers. It takes him a little while to get used to it. He trims his nails just for you, and he draws the line at two fingers, one is almost enough as it is. He gets accustomed to fingering you quickly, to have you sit in his lap while he presses his fingers into you, his free hand resting on your thigh and pushing it open, it is his own little piece of heaven.

Oral is another option for him, of course. Something that is much more easy on his mind, he doesn’t have to worry about delving too deep, nor about hurting you. He can just settle his head between your thighs and take what he wishes as you writhe above him. Pull his hair and praise him, and he’ll cum untouched. I promise.

He excels at oral, though. Put that practiced tongue to use. He maintains contact all the while, even though his face is quite red. He gives you this beautiful look that speaks volumes, ‘touch me, I beg’, it says. ‘Please’. And if you answer that plea, even simply by stroking his cheek, he lets out an audible shiver. Even his snakes shake a little, letting out a soft hiss as he continues.

On that note, however, good lord does this man enjoy a good frotting session. He is afraid to enter you, like I said, due to his size. Frotting is a good way to atleast feel you, while also granting himself pleasure, without hurting you. He could go on for days and nights just rutting against you, whimpering into your skin, simply basking in the (rather lewd) intimacy of it all.

MESSMER also quite enjoys thigh jobs. He loves them, actually. He sits you in his lap, fucking his cock up into the plush of your thighs, head buried in the crook of your neck as he guides your own rhythm. Of course, he could let you grind by yourself, but he prefers to take matters into his own hands (literally). It’s the least he can offer you (less of a workout) while he lets go of all his sexual frustrations between your thighs. He doesn’t mean to jostle you around as much as he does, he can’t help it.

Speaking of sexual frustrations, this man is PACKED FULL OF THEM. I’m not saying he could be fixed by jacking off, but he could at least feel a little better afterwards. With you, good lord has he calmed down. He’s a lot less tense, happier, perhaps even jubilant. You cannot wash away the fact that his mother is strung up and imprisoned by a god, but perhaps all MESSMER needed was to feel the warmth of another, rather than simmer in the ever-burning flame that he has come to know, and despise.

Now, about his snakes… it takes a long while for him to open up to the idea of them being incorporated into sex. Having them simply turn away makes it feel awkward, of course, but perhaps they could do more…? They do adore you, after all. Perhaps a little impromptu bondage? Keeping your hands tied as he feasts upon you, or perhaps keeping your legs parted as his cock glides against your own sex.

He isn't the most kinkiest guy, of course. Although, “kinky” in the Lands Between and Land of Shadow might be totally different to our description. The most he does is overstimulate you, but never on purpose. Sometimes MESSMER gets too ahead of himself, too wanting. And he takes what he wants, what he needs. Though he always apologizes afterwards, not that you mind. He never takes it too far anyways. He's got quite the stamina, yet still falls short due to his experience (i.e, zero).

Perhaps the two of you cannot be as close as you wish during sex, but that doesn't make the act any less intimate. Especially to him, a life so devoid of such love, only consumed by hate and longing, but never yearning. He's the kind of guy to cry during sex. Partially because it feels so good to him, but also because he has never understood this intimacy. Not until now. All sorts of proclamations of love spill from his lips as he guides your thighs along his lanky cock, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sobbing even softer words. Stroke his hair, whisper even sweeter words to him, and return the sentiment. He’ll cum harder, cry a little bit more, and reward you in kind. He’ll lift his head from your neck and look upon you with a teary-eyed, soft expression, and then kiss you oh so sweetly despite his cum coating your thighs.

MESSMER also likes a little balance in your guys’ sex life. He wants– needs to please you as much as you do him. He lets no deed go unrewarded, if you were to jack him off, he'd return by fingering you. And if you allow him to fuck your thighs, he’ll go down on you with a fervor that is unmatched. He makes sure you cum as much as he does, and vice versa. He’s a very fair man, in that aspect.

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog

DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[uh-i-think-its-frank]

TRADITION

Master!Luke Skywalker x Padawan!Reader

Luke Skywalker is on a mission to rebuild the Jedi Order, using traditional methods, training and ideology from the Jedi Code.

His first ever student makes him question tradition.

slow burn | forbidden love | mild angst | smut MDNI

no use of y/n | AFAB reader | she/her pronouns

set just before the Book of Boba Fett

word count: 14k

masterlist | fic recs | ao3

a/n: this is my first published fic in a very, very long time so constructive criticism is welcomed! I have an idea for an angsty pt. 2 so lmk if u want it hehe

Training under Luke Skywalker was difficult. 

 Despite being a polite and gentle man, his methods of teaching were strict and calculated - each lesson was designed to have a specific outcome and he always made sure she came out of it with the skill and knowledge he intended. This often meant early mornings and late nights, aching muscles and a brain that felt like jelly after focussing on strengthening her connection to the Force. 

 The most difficult part of training under Luke Skywalker, however, was Luke Skywalker himself. 

 She had been new to this galaxy when he found her. She honestly doesn’t quite know how she even managed to get from Earth the planet of Tatooine. It involved her bizarrely finding a broken down ship in the woods near her house and somehow getting taken into space by the inhabitants of said ship, ending up galaxies away and missing the primitive planet Earth. 

 The men that brought her to the desert planet were smugglers, who swore they saved her life because they were certain that whatever debt collectors they had chasing after them would’ve killed her if they knew that she’d seen them. And yet, after many weeks of travelling and not getting along, they just left her on this rock to fend for herself with no knowledge of where she was or how to get home, like true saviours.

 Thankfully, however, due to having to help her kidnappers fix their ship after every firefight they got into, she'd found a talent in mechanics, and managed to get by working for Peli Motto, fixing up whatever rust buckets came through her hangars in Mos Eisley Spaceport. 

 Peli’s hangars were usually home to bounty hunters and smugglers, working for the Bounty Hunters Guild or the Hutts and were just as rough and grimy as you’d expect them to be. And while the odd everyday traveller would come through, it was rarely a special occasion and usually ended with the older woman she called her boss scaring them off with her no-nonsense attitude, always telling it like it is.

 So when a ship landed and Peli stopped mid-curse when she turned and saw the x-wing sitting in her Hangar, back straightening when she saw the pilot, the Earthling woman knew he had to be serious business. 

 She moved to stand beside Peli, watching the lid of the ship lift to reveal who was possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen unbuckling himself from his seat. She found that her own back straightened without realising it as she watched him, clad in black, perfectly fitting robes, pristine black boots and a single gloved hand. She side eyed Peli for any hint or explanation as to who this was and why he seemed so important. 

 Peli caught her gaze but ignored her, boisterously walking over to the ship, welcoming him as the mystery man lifted himself out of the cockpit. 

 His feet hit the ground and he regarded her boss with a polite smile, resting his clasped hands behind his back as he gave her a small bow in thanks.

 She decided to walk out after Peli, moving out from under the shade of the tool shop and into the sunlight of the open hangar. The blonde man's eyes lifted to meet hers, as if knowing she’d been there all along and gave a small nod, a look on his face that seemed almost… determined. Like he had something planned.

 After a while of Peli talking his ear off and offering him any repairs he needed or even a service on his ship free of charge, he finally explained that he was there for a reason. And boy, was it not what she expected. 

 He introduced himself as Luke Skywalker and the young woman shared a look with Peli, eyes wide. She recognised the name from the Holothrillers she and her boss would watch together late at night in the tool shop, as they ate their bland dinners with greasy hands while Peli elaborated on some of the plot points, explaining how the actions in the films had actually affected the rest of the galaxy in real life and where she was and what she was doing when the events happened. 

 The younger woman had quickly grown enamoured by the story, asking Peli a million and one questions about the Empire and Luke Skywalker and she’d since only known him as the farm boy who became a Jedi and defeated the Empire. A Historical figure. A man she’d never meet. And yet, here he was. 

 He explained that he was on a mission to rebuild the Jedi Order, and that he had been searching for others who were Force-sensitive to help rebuild it with him. He said he’d already contacted many. Used the Force to find them and travelled to ask them for their assistance, offering to train them if they needed. But they’d all turned him down. 

 There had been rumours of a band of Inquisitors, Jedi Killers, still on the hunt, despite the Great Jedi Purge ending over 6 standard years ago, not long before the fall of the Empire. This rumour had made the surviving Jedi, Force-users and parents with Force-sensitive children anxious to reveal themselves for fear of their lives. 

 It was an understandable fear, one that the lone Jedi found reasonable. Though, it was tiresome to travel to so many different planets to make the same speech, only to get turned down out of fear. 

 Luke explained that he could feel the Earthlings' connection to the Force. It was distant and lacking strength, but still, there was something there that could be worked upon, that could be strengthened with the correct training. He’d travelled there, to her workplace and makeshift home just to ask her to join him, to train with him and become a Jedi Knight and use her knowledge to train others and keep the Jedi Order alive. To rebuild what was lost to the Dark Side for many years. 

 Maybe it was her ignorance on the matter due to her brief time in this galaxy, or maybe it was simply the desperate look in his beautiful eyes. But after a bit of convincing and advice from Peli to do what she felt was right - she’d accepted his offer.

 The next day, they’d travelled to Ossus where Luke and many builder droids had been and were continuing to build a new Jedi Temple, to be fit with enough rooms and space to train whole generations of Force-sensitive children when the time was right. But for now, the only occupants of the large Temple were just her and her new Master, Luke Skywalker. 

 He’d had servant droids take her measurements and get her fitted for her own set of Padawan robes as well as a whole new wardrobe of sleep and casual attire, suitable for the Temple. And despite being thankful for the new, perfectly-fitted apparel, she fought tooth and nail until the droids finally allowed her to keep her ill-fitting, grease-stained overalls in the back of her wardrobe, only after they had been deep-cleaned. She knew she may never get the chance to wear them again, much to her dismay, but she couldn’t bear to part with them.

 She was a lot older than most Padawan ever were. Most were trained as young children through to adulthood, where they’d be deemed true Jedi Knights by the age she already was, but desperate times called for desperate measures. There were only a handful of Jedi left, after all, and even less who were willing to aid the New Jedi Order. 

 So, in an attempt to make up for lost time, she tried her absolute hardest, diving head-first into her training. She spent her days learning from her Master and her nights in the Temple library, studying the history of her predecessors, staying up much too late and waking up much too early just to do it all over again.

 She was passionate and hardworking, things that she prided herself on. Her work ethic prevailed over anything else… Usually. 

 See, she had an issue. She was great with history. She’d gotten to a point just mere weeks into her training that she could recite a play-by-play of the Clone Wars if asked to, and found herself absolutely enthralled by every piece of information that she absorbed in that library, going through the thickest history books within a single day if she ever got the privilege of having one off - which was rare. But she excelled in this area because she could do it alone.

 Connecting with the Force, physical training or anything else she had to work on with Master Luke was where she struggled. Simply because, well… 

 She found him so distracting. 

 At first, it was nearly unbearable. She would flush every time he would touch her to position her body during training. She'd get caught up thinking about him when she was meant to be meditating. She'd stutter when he'd ask her questions that should've been simple to answer, like how she slept or about the book she’d stayed up too late reading. 

 It was like she was in high school again, crushing over a boy so badly that even the mildest of interactions had her smiling goofily at herself when she lay in bed that night, excited to go to sleep just so she could see him again the next day. But this was worse. Much, much worse. 

 Because not only was this man her teacher, her Master. It was also written, directly into the scriptures that she read every night before she went to sleep.

     A Jedi does not act for personal power or wealth.

But only seeks knowledge and enlightenment.

 This scripture, whilst it encourages selflessness and promotes the importance of preserving the knowledge of not only the Jedi, but the galaxy itself, the things that make up the environment around them, also means something deeper, more complicated. And it’s everywhere - all throughout the Jedi Code.

      There is no emotion, there is peace. 

 When master Luke had first shared the Mantra with her a few weeks ago, and recited the oath she must take, she had asked him to elaborate. To explain every rule she was meant to follow and every promise she had to keep. She’d been excited. Eager to learn more of her new life, and the things that lay within it. 

 But the news had been crushing to her. When she realised that attachment was not frowned upon, not thought of as taboo, but forbidden entirely, she’d gone quiet.

 The thought rolled through her head over and over, until it didn’t sound real anymore and Luke's usually relaxed face fell into a small frown, watching her absorb the information.

”I…” She began, a lump forming in her throat that she had to swallow. “I’m to never get married? … Never have children?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes. 

He was hesitant to respond, able to see, able to feel the sadness within her. The weight of this new knowledge, crushing. He sighed, saddened to have to hurt her further by reconfirming;

“Emotions can cloud our thoughts. These clouds can lead us into unfathomable darkness.” He’d responded, bluntly. “Only those who find a way to rise above the darkness are deemed worthy to become Jedi.”

 It was a hard hurdle to get over, to accept, having always thought of herself as the kind to fall in love, get married and settle down. Become a mother, start a family. Eventually. When she met one who was worthy of her love and her, theirs. 

 But over time, she grew to accept her new way of life. As her connection to the Force grew, so did her understanding of the Dark Side and the necessity of that rule. 

 With her academic knowledge of the Force, her determination and the uphill battle that was shoving her crush down. Way deep, deep down. She began excelling at her training. She was able to meditate fully with little to no distraction, had found their day exercises across the creeks and forests of Ossus easier to handle and she even managed to blush only a little when he touched her body during their hand-to-hand combat lessons. 

 It was now, only in her free time that she found herself thinking of him. After he dismissed her for the day and she was no longer required to have to think of him professionally. It was only in the safety of her quarters, in the dark of night as she lay in bed, that she allowed herself to think of his bare hand touching her skin and the fire she felt in her stomach whenever it did. His chest, warm and inviting, vibrating with his voice as he told her how to position her hands to produce the most amount of force in combat. His biceps, that she’d only seen once, on a particularly hot day on the sunny planet they inhabited and he had been stretching after training, muscles flexing with the movement of his arms. 

 She groaned with frustration, pressing her pillow into her face to muffle the sound.  

 An uphill battle, indeed. 

-

 The next day had been the same as any other. Morning meditation, breakfast and then Force training. But Master Luke pleasantly surprised her when he had made mention of learning something new.

 It was midday on Ossus as they sat across from each other, under the shade of a large tree. Stacks of rocks surrounded them, evidence of previous training and meditation sessions. She wore a soft, excited grin on her face, eager to learn. His sandy hair was neat as he spoke to her, saying her name gently. 

“In your studies, have you read about Mind Probing?”

 Her grin faltered. 

 Oh, dear Maker, no.

 She nodded gently, heat threatening to rise to her cheeks as anxiety slowly filled her and she was thankful that she’d gotten better at mentally shielding, hoping that her Master could not feel her nerves through her Force signature. 

 She remembers the exact paragraph that she read on Mind-Probing simply because she had had to put the book down as dread filled her at the realisation that she would need to be taught this at some point. She had no clue it would be so soon. 

 Master Luke’s face remained his usual calm. If he’d noticed her panic in any way, he didn’t show it, nodding in approval and continuing to speak. 

 “Good.” 

 She hated the shiver that ran through her at his praise. 

 “The Force's influence over the minds of other beings can be a valuable tool in the right hands, but it can be easily abused as well.” He began, resting his hands on his knees. “As you will have read; Those on the dark side have been known to use the Force to read the thoughts of other beings and, if necessary, search their minds for information.”

 The young woman nodded, trying to keep her face straight as she anxiously toyed with the fabric of her pants. Master Luke’s face showed pure relaxation as he continued.

”It is important for a Jedi to be capable of protecting themselves against such an intrusion, which is why we are going to be practising shielding against the probe.” He finished, observing her silently for a long moment.

 She averted her gaze, looking down at a piece of fabric she’d been running her nail over, unable to look at him in the eye, for she was scared of just how much he would be able to see in hers. 

 “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question, but merely a statement of truth. One that was impossible to deny, so she didn’t. 

 She nodded, looking back up at him as she did so. She paused her anxious fidgeting to bring her hands into her lap, eyebrows furrowing as she searched for the right words to say. 

 “This process is known for being exceptionally painful for the subject undergoing the probe." He stated before she could bring herself to speak. “Is it the pain you fear?”

 She was silent for a moment, knowing that if she simply lied and said yes, her Master would see right through her even with her mental shields up. Because, well… she was an absolutely terrible liar. 

 Master Luke had caught her out a few times; when she’d tell him that she didn’t stay up too late, or that she’d drank plenty of water that day. He always told her that her face gave her away; like a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

 She let out a small sigh. 

 “Among other things… yes.” She admitted, a blush dusting her cheeks. 

 Master Luke observed her for a moment longer before nodding gently, a look of understanding in his eyes.

 “I understand that it’s invasive.” He began, raising his gloved hand, as if taking an oath. “I can assure you that I will not look further into your mind than what’s necessary.” He promised, earnestly. 

 She flushed, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights as she blinked away her embarrassment. She hated that she seemed to be so easy for him to read. Has she always been like this? Or does Luke's connection to the Force make him exceptionally good at picking up people's emotions? 

 It often made her wonder if he was truly as blind to her attraction for him as he made himself out to be. Surely if he could tell what she was thinking now, he wouldn’t be so blind as to miss her fruitless pining.

 And if that was the case, then maybe whatever he sees in her head today will be of no surprise?

 She breathed deeply, straightening her back and placing her hands back on her knees, as if she was about to start meditating. 

 She nodded, breathing out a quiet ‘okay’ as permission. 

 He mimicked her posture as he spoke. 

 “When I enter your mind, you will be able to feel me. I will have full access to your thoughts and your memories.” He began, watching her face carefully to ensure she understood his words. 

 “It will, in fact, be painful and you may find it hard to concentrate. However, your goal is to find me within your mind and push me out.”

 She let out a nervous breath, rolling her neck and shoulders back to loosen them, taking some time to ground herself and connect with the environment around her. Using the Force to extend her senses and calm her. She nodded, only closing her eyes after witnessing Master Luke close his, seeming satisfied with her consent. 

 She took a brief moment to relax. Focussing on breathing and emptying her mind to bring herself to a light meditative state, hoping to prepare herself for the experience and calm her anxiously beating heart in one fell swoop whilst she waited for the man in front of her to invade her mind. 

 It started as something she could sense. Like a disturbance in the air around her, interrupting the usual waves of energy she was used to. 

 It exudes calm, much like Luke himself, and starts out as feeling quite unimposing. Unthreatening. She thinks to herself that the sensation is odd - unlike anything she has felt before. But the hair on the back of her neck stands as it approaches her. Almost like a tendril, seen with unseeing eyes through her Force signature, skulking through her environment like a serpent looking for prey. She finds herself bristelling at its proximity, goosebumps rising on her skin as she feels its disturbance wade through her energy. Its calm was unwavering, yet the knowledge of its intention made her nervous. 

 She gulped as it paused in front of her, waiting and patient. 

 She tried to brace herself, tried to find a way to preemptively build up a wall in her head to prevent it from entering. Yet still, when it struck, she was unprepared. 

 She whimpered when it hit her, a pain shooting through her skull, like a hundred migraines occurring at once. Her body tensed and her face screwed up in pain, a blur of sensations and imagery and emotion blew through her and her breathing quickened. A strangled cry escaped her lips.

 But suddenly, she could see. 

 Luke was sitting in front of her, under their tree. The picture was hazy, as though a camera was going in and out of focus but he was there all the same; discussing Mind Probing, the wind blowing through his hair as she thought about how beautiful he was. Just as she had just moments ago. 

 She felt another bout of pain, gritting her teeth to prevent from crying out as the imagery changed, to the mediation they’d done earlier that day. Then again, to her breakfast. 

 Images of her most recent days flowed through her, the pain getting worse and worse as the memories sped past, the pressure in her mind expanding as the memories went further back, to when they first started training together. When all she thought about was Luke. Her stolen glances, her silent pining.

 Through the pain, she felt a pang of embarrassment in her chest, panic shooting through her body as she clutched the fabric of her pants. She struggled to get ahold of herself, to capture her own thoughts through the fog of Luke in her head and the pain making its way down her spine. 

 Watching him as he stretched. Gazing him up and down.

 She let out a grunt as she felt him pushing further, her eyelashes growing wet as tears built up in her eyes as she forced herself to breath strangled breaths, searching desperately for a way to push him out. 

 She imagined a wall - a barrier. Similar to the one she used for her usual mental shielding, but it was weak against his effort. He pushed against it. 

 His arms through his tunic. The feeling she got between her legs when she stared at his hands for too long. 

 She let out a strained sob, eyebrows furrowing and teeth gritting as she began pushing, the image growing blurry with her effort. 

 She could feel him resisting, pushing himself against the imaginary wall she’d built, trying to wiggle himself through. 

She found her embarrassment begin to bubble, flipping inside her chest and morphing to anger. Frustration. The fire of the new emotion helped her as she imagined the wall moving forward, back through her thoughts and memories, shoving against the intrusion, slowly forcing him back out. 

 The pain grew easier to handle the further forward she pushed, but her mind and body grew tired. She put everything into pushing him back, back to the beginning where he kept her fighting for another moment, pushing against the barrier she struggled desperately to keep up. 

 She could feel the sweat beading at her forehead as she fought, a shaky breath escaping her as she pushed and pushed and pushed until he eventually, finally, he relented, letting go so suddenly that she hadn't even realised what was happening as a blur of imagery and emotions blew passed her, feeling as though she was falling; hurtling through the Force. 

 For a moment, she thought she may have gotten lost in her own head. Somehow made a mess of herself and had spun out of control in her own mind. 

 But as she slowed, an image grew clearer, not of Luke, but of herself. 

 She sat in the Temple, at the dining table where they ate all their meals, nose buried in one of the historical texts that she could hardly put down, looking awfully concentrated. 

 She lifted a spoon full of soup up, not daring to take her eyes off the book for even a second as she struggled to find her own mouth, completely missing and dipping her chin in the spoon of soup. 

 A rush of amusement ran through her own body as she watched herself, feeling the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as affection bubbled in her chest, heart beating the tiniest bit harder. 

 Confusion swam through her mind, not understanding quite what was going on. So, she pushed forward, the imagery changing, swirling wispily around her as if in a dream. 

 She could see herself again, during their runs through the bamboo forest, hopping on the stones across the creek. 

 She pushed once more, only to see the ceiling of a room she didn’t recognise and was overcome with pleasure, thoughts of herself flooding her mind as her pleasure increased; the ghost of a deep moan emerging from the memory. 

 Without warning, a flash of white surrounded her and she felt as if she was travelling a million miles an hour, hurtling through memories once again as she was shoved out with so much force, she physically toppled back. 

 She took heaving breaths as confusion clouded her, bringing a hand up to her sore head, groaning. She lay on her back for a moment before moving an arm underneath her to lift herself up into a half-seated position, resting her weight on one arm as she used her other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks, catching her breath. 

 She opened her eyes, the sun was blinding as they focussed on the figure in front of her, taking a second to adjust in her disorientation. The blurriness cleared to reveal Master Luke in front of her, red faced and mouth agape, looking absolutely mortified.

 Understanding flooded her as she finally realised what she had just experienced. Her eyes widened, blinking in awe as she opened her mouth to speak but found herself hesitating.

 She pushed herself up fully, resting her weight on her hand. 

 "D-did I just-" she began but stopped short when Luke stood up. 

 She watched as he lifted himself off the grass, smoothing out his tunic and pants, face now back to its usual blank state but cheeks still fiery red and for the first time ever, he was avoiding eye contact with her. 

 "Master Luke, I'm sorry, I didn't-" She wanted to grovel at his feet after what she'd done, apologise for having invaded his personal space. But he raised his hand, signalling her to stop. 

 He was silent for a second, seeming to need to collect himself before speaking, looking down at his feet as he cleared his throat. 

 "I think that's enough for today. We'll pick back up tomorrow." His voice had a polite tone, but there was a roughness to it that she hadn't heard before, like he was holding back frustration. 

 She wanted to speak again, to apologise. She even opened her mouth to do so, but found any potential words dead in her throat. 

 "You're dismissed." He looked down at the younger woman for a brief second and nodded curtly before beginning to walk back to the temple, his strides longer and faster than she was used to, leaving her under the shade of their tree to process what had just happened. 

 She spent the rest of the day alone, trying her hardest to train independently, despite having been dismissed by Luke, but finding herself so distracted that she decided to just finish training early anyway, heading back to the temple and pottering around, trying to rid herself of the guilt that sat in the pit of her stomach. 

 She knew Luke must’ve been really upset when he didn’t show up for dinner. When the servant droid placed her plate in front of her and hadn’t returned to place one on the other side of the table, she felt her heart sink a little more.

 She sighed, moving her padawan braid behind her shoulder and began eating solemnly. 

 She felt terrible for what she did, invading his privacy like that. Having made him look at her the way that he did, unable to look her in the eye. Like he had been betrayed. 

 But the worst part of it all, what kept eating away at her; she hated to admit it. Hated to be in direct violation of the Jedi Code by being so utterly selfish by finding that the guilt that bubbled in her gut, did not come from the invasion of privacy, but from the knowledge that she had enjoyed what she saw. The image played over and over again in her head, involuntarily, as if it was a malfunctioning hologram, skipping over itself to replay all over. 

 The guilt followed her to bed that night, where instead of smiling up at her ceiling like she often did, her fingers twitched by her sides as she lay awake, filled with the knowledge that he had pleasured himself while thinking of her.

 It took every ounce of self restraint to not do the same - knowing she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye tomorrow if she did. 

 The next morning was bright and warm as she breathed deeply under their tree, body relaxed and mind empty as the rocks around her hovered silently. 

 Luke was usually already under the tree when she arrived, having been meditating for Maker knows how long before she even left the Temple, but when he hadn’t been sitting in his usual place when she walked up the small hill today, she had accepted, with much disappointment, that she would be training on her own for the day. 

 She was, however, pleasantly surprised when she felt a familiar presence enter her senses. Despite her eyes being closed, she could see him, walking toward their tree, looking at her with his usual neutral expression as he adjusted his leather glove on his right hand, no sign of the blush that graced his cheeks yesterday afternoon. 

 Although, she noticed something about him immediately. That something was different. It took her a moment of mulling it over to realise that it was that his presence in the Force seemed… hollow, almost. Like something was missing. 

 She quickly realised that he was guarded. Shielding himself from her. 

 “I was starting to think I’d be training on my own today.” She stated when he’d gotten close. 

 He was silent for a moment and she could see him pause in front of her, looking down at her as he seemed to collect his thoughts. 

 ”I’m sorry for running late.” He said, moving toward his usual place in front of her.

 She could hear the rustling of his clothes as he moved his hands to his sides, looking at her with that unreadable look that she loved and hated. His breathing was relaxed but he had a tenseness in his shoulders that was not usually there. 

 “Don’t apologise,” She began, opening her eyes slowly to look up at him properly. “I’d be upset at me too, after what I did yesterday.” 

 He said nothing as he stared at her, face relaxed except for a soft furrow of his brow. She sighed, lowering the rocks around her gently to the ground and moving her hands into her lap, toying with her fingers. 

 “I… invaded your privacy. I entered your mind without your permission, and I apologise for that.” She said, thankful that she could finally get the apology out in the open, after sitting with the weight of it on her shoulders since the second she’d seen his face yesterday.

 She found it hard to look directly at him, as despite him being a beautiful and kind man, he was intimidating. He was often hard to read, even when he wasn’t shielding himself from her. When unguarded, he usually emitted an aura of calm. Pure neutrality. The same way she felt when she just finished meditating. But his presence was also always intense. Heavy. 

 And now, with his shield up and no way to feel his usual calm demeanor, the only thing she could feel was his intensity. 

 Maybe it was her attraction to him that made him feel so intimidating to her, maybe it was just the way that he was, but she felt herself grow nervous. However, she chose to keep herself open. Allowed him to feel her anxiety, her guilt, her pure sincerity, if he chose to pay attention - and she knew he always did. 

 He breathed in deeply, looking away from her to take a seat across from the younger woman, now eye level with her. She felt a small shift in the air around them, filling her with a gentle wave of emotion. Calm. 

 He’d opened himself up to her, just a little.

 She looked at him again, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. 

 “It was an accident.” He stated, simply. A soft, reassuring smile on his lips. “You pushed too hard and when I left your mind, you followed me into mine. I should’ve prepared myself for it but I didn’t.” He moved, straightening his back and relaxing his shoulders, evidently preparing to join her in meditation. 

 “I accept your apology and I’d like to offer you one of my own. For not informing you of the possibility.”

 She smiled, joining him in adjusting her posture as she nodded. 

 “It’s okay.” She confirmed, closing her eyes once again, grateful to feel the weight of anxiety lifted off her chest. The day moved like every other, training as normal, eating together as always.

 But there was something different between them now. A shift in their dynamic. 

 It was subtle at first - she assumed it was simply the fact that they’d moved past a hitch in their platonic relationship. A teaching moment between Master and Padawan, moving past their personal feelings and focussing on the training at hand.

 However, as the days passed, lingering glances had turned into shy eye contact. Her blushing cheeks at his touch were met with knowing smirks. Their dinners, usually littered with small talk and questions about Jedi training, turned into meaningful conversations. Hells, she’d even made him laugh a few times and boy, was she ecstatic to discover that Luke Skywalker, the most serious and quiet man she knows, Jedi Knight, has the sweetest, most boyish giggle she’s ever heard. She revelled in the sight of his toothy smile, cheeks creasing with the size of his grin. 

 Her heart pounded even just thinking about it as he led her to a new location of the Temple, one that had still been getting built by worker droids when she first arrived to Ossus for training. The room was large and open, with a lifted podium in the centre, where he led her before handing her a wooden pole, the handle surrounded in metal and wrapped in leather, to replicate the weight of a mechanical hilt.

 Her eyes widened.

 ”Saber training?” She said, awestruck as she gazed up at Luke, who looked down at her with the smallest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nodded, moving to stand in front of the shorter woman, hands behind his back as he watched her. 

 “I’d like you to position yourself in a fighting stance.” He said simply, face blank once again, calm yet intimidating aura ever present. 

 Despite their recent change of dynamic in their free time, he rarely shifted his focus off of training her properly. 

 There had been a few times where she tried to keep their light conversation from dinner or breakfast going into their lessons, but had each time been met with a telling look or sometimes even a gentle scolding, her name rolling off of his tongue with a disciplinary tone. A reminder to stay focussed. 

 She gripped the hilt of the wooden saber in her hands and shuffled her feet shoulder-width apart, bending her knees slightly, trying to mimic the stance she’d seen in the Holothrillers that Peli and her would watch on Mos Eisley. 

 Once in position, she looked at Luke, waiting for him to provide further guidance. 

 He observed her, gaze slowly trailing down her body as he took in her position, tilting his head as he did so, seeming ponderous. 

 Her stomach fluttered at the sight of his eyes taking her in with his very serious expression, his jaw tightening as he observed her.

 He started to move, his hands staying behind his back as he slowly circled her, his footsteps echoing in the open space, their sound becoming her only knowledge of his location after he exited her vision, reminding her once again of her weakness in the Force when preoccupied and not meditating. Their recent Force training sessions had been consistent with that Maker-forsaken Training Remote. The burns on her legs and feet from its tiny beams are proof enough of her ineptitude with the Force when distracted. They would soon have to make a trip into the city for more Bacta at the rate she’s going through it.

 His sudden appearance directly behind her startles her, jumping when he begins speaking. She swears she can hear the hit of a smirk in his voice, amused by her skittishness. 

“Your instinctual position proves almost perfect.” He begins, “However, we need to make a few small adjustments.” 

 He takes a step closer and the only thing she can sense without the aid of the Force is the sound of his clothes rustling as he moves and the sound of his leather glove stretching with his fingers. Her grip on the hilt of the wooden saber tightens as she anticipates his touch, her senses heightened as her heart began to pound. 

 Her breath hitches when she feels his gloved hand touch the back of her thigh, pushing as he does so. 

 “Bend your knees a little more.” 

 She does as he says, lowering herself with his hand guiding her, revelling in the feeling of his fingers. The smooth leather of his glove makes her yearn for the touch of his skin against hers. She can’t help but think of him gripping her thigh, moving her however he wants. 

 His hand pulling away pulls her out of her thoughts, the ghost of his touch tingling her skin, making her legs feel weak. 

 He then gently places both hands on her shoulders, just soft enough to stabilise her as he brings himself closer, warm chest nearly touching her back as he uses the outside of his boot to push on the inside of her right foot, spreading her legs the tiniest bit more.

 The unexpected action makes face flush and her toes curl in her shoes as she has to consciously focus on keeping her breathing steady. Mind wandering, immediately. 

 ”Keeping your feet further apart helps with agility when in combat.” He stated, factually, his breath on her ear and she has to try not to shiver at the feeling. 

 He removed his hands slowly, trailing down her upper arms before retreating fully as he moved to stand in front of her again, keeping his distance close.

 The young woman took deep breaths, closing her eyes to take a moment to relax before opening them again, her dilated pupils taking him in. His face stayed neutral, exuding relaxation as he watched her and she hoped she didn’t look as desperate as she felt, practically panting with want, too aware of every part of her body that yearned for his touch, from her hands, to her feet, to the apex of her thighs. 

 She grew tired as she kept her shield up, strengthening it as her thoughts wandered, trying to focus on anything other than his eyes or his hands or his stupid unreadable face. 

 She took another deep breath.

 If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. His demeanor remained unchanged as he looked down to her hands gripping the hilt before he raised his own, gloved fingers gripping the saber while the other hand reaches for hers. 

 She let out a shaky breath when his skin touched hers as he repositioned her hands, swapping them around whilst he held her saber for her. 

 She hoped she wasn’t reading too far into it when his hand lingered on her fingers for a moment longer than it should’ve. 

 “Always lead with your dominant hand.” 

 He moved away again, walking with his hands behind his back as he observed just as he did before, eyes roaming her body for signs of imperfection. His head moved as he looked her over, circling her once again, his gaze burning into her skin.

 His demeanor made her feel like a rabbit in a lion's den. And her face flushed at the knowledge that she liked it. 

 The rest of saber training had felt torturous. Not only because of his lingering touches, but because watching her Master wield a saber with ease, his tunic tightening around his muscles, his breathing growing ragged with exertion was like collapsing dehydrated in the middle of the desert and seeing an ice cold water bottle sitting just outside of reach. Like being in a prison cell, the key to the door hanging just outside the bars. 

 Like being infatuated with a man you can’t have. 

 She touched herself in the refresher to the thought of him, after training. 

 After dinner, spending some time in the Temple library, opting for a romance book after the excitement of the day, and doing her final meditation for the night, she retired to bed where she tossed and turned more than she usually would. 

 The events of her day played over in her mind, the ghost of her Masters touch still present on her skin. 

 She came to wonder if her frustration with her inability to be with the man she so desperately and selfishly pined for, indicated a dark desire. A path to the Dark Side. If, deep down, she really was filled with selfishness and hate. 

 She’d never identified with the Dark Side, often finding the lust for power obnoxious and all-too similar to Earth's facism, a political standpoint she’s always detested. But the Dark and the Light side of the Force were not a simple matter of opinion or politics. 

 No, it was almost as though it was destined. Something that the Force predetermined to keep balance within it. So, although she felt no pull to the Dark Side, was her selfish desire for Luke Skywalker a pathway to it? Would this infatuation with her Master create a pull that has already been predetermined?

 The thought had her restless and after chasing sleep for an hour and it eluding her, she decided to just continue reading the new book she had started this evening in hopes of putting her racing thoughts behind her.

 Flipping the blankets off of her body and shuffling to the edge of the bed, she stood to walk to the other side of her quarters, where the book sat on the table next to a small carpet she used for her evening meditations. Luke had placed it in here, insisting she have somewhere other than just their tree to sit and meditate.

 She gripped the book whilst looking down at the cover, an image of a Human man holding a Twi’lek woman by the waist, staring lovingly into her eyes. She sighed down at it almost longingly before moving to make her way back to her bed. 

 Her feet stopped dead on the stone floor when a small, nagging feeling rose up on the back of her neck. It almost felt like a small tingle, like a bug was crawling on her skin or her hair was grazing her neck. She thought she may have imagined it at first, but it quickly grew in intensity. A shiver ran down her spin and her blood ran cold. 

 She stood in the centre of her room, waiting. Feeling. Goosebumps rose on her skin as the shiver expanded across her whole body, her feet had pins and needles. 

 Something was wrong.

 Her eyebrows furrowed, her toes flexed against the stone tiles as an image of a black mask appeared in her mind. A flash of blinding red light.

 A deep feeling of dread filled her, her chest tightening as the feeling overwhelmed her and she brought a hand up to place her palm against it, feeling her heartbeat rattling in her ribcage. 

 It was then that she heard a scream. Not in her head, but within the Temple. 

 Luke. 

 The book fell to her feet and she took off, ripping  her door open and sprinting down the hall, through the common area where they ate together and down the opposite hallway, toward her Masters quarters.

 She had never been here before, had never even thought about coming here, out of respect for the unspoken expectation between Master and Padawan. But as she grew closer, the hairs on her arms stood as the overwhelming sense of danger flooded her senses. 

 She didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think it over for a second before pulling the door open and running so fast into Luke's room that she nearly tumbled over the area rug on the floor. 

 Luke laid seemingly unharmed in his bed, writhing and whimpering. But as she watched him, flashes of red light flooded her head and she blinked as they appeared. 

 “Luke!” She yelled, running to his side, looking down at him under the covers, the word ‘no’ tumbling out of his lips between whimpers and groans. 

 She was confused, brows furrowing as panic filled her. Was he just dreaming? And if he was just dreaming, why was she sensing it? Experiencing it through the Force?

His shoulders convulsed as he let out wailing sobs. His face scrunched as he began crying and her heart clenched at the sight. His beautiful face twisted into agony, as though he was in mourning. 

 She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, his bare skin wet with sweat, jostling him in an attempt to wake him. 

 “Luke, please!” She cried, anxious to get him out of whatever dream he was having. He continued to writhe, his hair stuck to his damp forehead. 

 She placed a knee on his bed, leaning over him to capture both of his shoulders to shake him.

 ”Luke! Wake up!” She shouted louder this time, being cautious as to not injure him with her grip. 

 He gasped as his eyes shot open, the word ‘no’ still escaping his lips as his body jolted out of sleep, startling even more at the sight of her.

 She let out a small yelp as he shot up, her hands leaving his shoulders and up to her chest, frightened by his sudden movement. 

 ”it’s okay!” She shouted over his whimpers, “Luke, it’s okay! It’s me!” She pleaded.

 Confusion clouded his eyes as his body heaved with ragged breath, bracing one hand on his bed and bringing the other to his chest, flattening it across his sternum as he caught his breath, still whimpering and mumbling, as if still coming out of the throws of his dream.

 “Luke, are you ok?” She brought a hand down to his forearm, grazing his skin gently so as to not frighten him again. 

 He flinched a little at the contact but settled when his eyes caught hers, clearer than they were before and she breathed out a relieved breath, grateful to see the recognition in his face. 

 He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to gain control of his breathing. His face was still twisted in confusion and panic. 

 “I-I can’t-“ He tried to speak but struggled, closing his eyes. 

 She looked around his room quickly, realising she hadn’t taken note of anything when she’d entered and hoped to find something that could help him now. 

 She nearly gasped in happiness when her eyes settled on the glass jug of water on the table across from the bed. 

 “Hang on.” She stated, giving his arm a reassuring tap before hurrying over to the table, picking up one of the upturned glasses on the tray and pouring some fresh water into it. 

 She brought it back over to his bed, grabbing at his hand to guide it to the glass, where he looked up at her with grateful eyes and a furrowed brow. He nodded in thanks as he gripped it with shaky hands, bringing it to his lips to take a sip. 

 She then hurried to the other side of the room, grateful to see that their quarters were practically identical. She rushed over his own meditation mat and pulled aside the thin curtains so she could open a set of balcony doors, allowing the cool night breeze to enter the room, something she often did whilst she was meditating in her own room. 

 She turned to watch him sigh in relief when the breeze hit his wet skin, the messy bed hair on his head moved with it. He removed the glass from his lips, bringing it down to rest in his lap.

 It was only now, after her goosebumps died down and the shiver of imminent danger had left her, that she took notice of his appearance. 

 He was shirtless, the sheet that had initially covered him when she entered pooled on his lap, exposing his chest. He was unexpectedly lean, although she supposed you had to be to be a Jedi; even she had noticed a difference in her body after she began her training almost a standard year ago. The moonlight flooding in from the open door glistened against his moist skin, revealing the contours of his biceps, and as she looked at his arms from her new position in his quarters, she noticed that he wasn’t wearing his signature leather glove and she could now see his broken skin, where something metallic shined in the moonlight from underneath. 

 As she walked closer, she realised that underneath the skin of his right hand was metal and wiring, the skin around it seeming damaged. 

 She had heard the stories, heard that he’d had his hand cut off by his own father, but had never known the legitimacy of them. All the books, Holothrillers and verbal retellings had said different things. Some that he was the hero, others that he was the villain. But they all showed the same depiction of his father. A man in a black mask with a red saber. 

 She sat cautiously on the other side of the bed, watching as he finally caught his breath. 

 “Are you ok?” She asked, quietly. Despite being the only two in the temple that aren’t droids, the darkness of the night made her feel like she had to whisper, like they were sharing a secret they didn’t want others to hear. 

 Luke moved to place the glass of water on his nightstand and she mentally scolded herself as she watched his muscles contort with the movement. 

 “Yes, thank you,’ he began, still capturing his breath as he moved back to look at her. “I apologise if I woke you.” He clasped his hands together in his lap, toying with his fingers as he stared at her with a sheepish expression. 

 He was embarrassed. 

 She shook her head, adjusting her position on his bed so that she was sitting on her knees, facing him entirely. 

 “You didn’t.” She tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear, watching as Luke took in her nightgown and untied tresses. She realised that he had also never seen her like this and probably found it equally as jarring as she did. 

 “I couldn’t sleep. I was about to start reading my new book to see if it would help when I became overwhelmed with a terrible feeling.” She explained, looking down at her lap. ”I had no clue what it was until I heard you yell.”

 Luke suddenly moved, and she looked up at him, seeing a look of surprise on his face as he adjusted his position to face her. 

 “You could sense it?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 She nodded. “Yes. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like the room just stilled and all I could feel was this overwhelming sense of danger or fear - but it wasn’t my own.” She elaborated, realising that Luke was clearly interested in her experience. She watched as he nodded, silently urging her to continue. 

 “And then I could see… a figure. A man in a mask. But I wasn't really seeing it. It was like a picture had appeared in my head.” 

 Luke nodded, a soft smile adorning his face. 

 “Your connection with the force has grown.” He stated simply, gulping down the last of his ragged breath. He seemed almost proud but there was a distant look in his eye, as if he was still thinking of his dream. 

 She shuffled closer, moving toward him again, capturing her nightgown in her hand to gather it at her knees so she could move without the fabric getting in the way. 

 She lowered her voice again as she asked; 

 ”Were you dreaming of Vader?” 

 His eyes met hers for a brief moment before moving again to stare down at the bedsheets, his face scrunched as he thought, his hair still stuck to his forehead. 

 “N-no. It was someone else.” She could tell he was thinking back, trying to connect any dots he could find. “I didn’t recognise him. But you feeling it through the Force tells me that this was not just a dream.” He lets out a sigh, bringing his robotic hand up to his hair, smoothing it out.The mechanical pieces clicked quietly as they moved with him. 

 “A premonition?” She asked, awestricken at the thought. Luke gravely nodded in return, his hand dropping to his lap once again. 

 ”Do you ever know when it will come true?” She questions further, knees knocking with his as she moves even closer to him without thinking, interest piqued. She’d read of Jedi getting prophetic visions and had found great interest in it, having never experienced one before - until now, she supposed. 

 He looked down at their legs, seeming to think for a moment before responding. 

 “No, it’s hard to know when it will happen. It may never happen.” He began, his eyes on her exposed knees and the fabric of her nightgown pooled between her thighs. 

 She came to a slow realisation of the situation they were currently in. 

 She was in his quarters. In the middle of the night. In his bed. In nothing but a nightgown.

 She suddenly hoped the white light of the moon didn’t reveal the blush on her cheeks as he continued speaking, the air around them seeming to have shifted as he, too, realised their predicament. 

 “The future is always changing. The actions of the present are constantly adjusting the future.” He gazed down at her, his voice thinning as he spoke. 

 There was something different about him as he sat across from her. Maybe it was the fact that he’d just woken from a nightmare or, as she’d just discovered, a premonition, but he was more expressive. His usually neutral face was still relaxed, a great juxtaposition to how he looked earlier, but his eyes communicated more than she was used to. He continued looking at the way her nightgown flowed around her, eyes glittering in the moonlight. His eyes would meet hers every so often, as if to maintain the guise of innocence as his jaw clenched, the action visible in the contrast of the soft light. 

 The room seemed heavier, and she wasn't sure if it was the Force, or her imagination, but there was almost a kind of electricity filling the space between them. The new aura around them made her stomach flutter, reminding her of their time saber training earlier today, a memory that has her mental scolding herself once again, sure that she was to make a fool of herself if she thinks too hard about the way he touched her then and the way his body moved under his tunic. What she would give to see him do it shirtless like this. 

 She swallowed, fingers clenching her nightgown nervously, an action she see’s Lukes eyes catch instantly. Her inner thighs tingle and her heart pounds as she prepares herself to speak.

 “Are the dreams of a Jedi often premonitions?” She asked, voice weak as she moved her eyes down to his body, his biceps twitching with every small movement as he toyed with his fingers in his lap. She watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he gulped.

 His hair was still tousled, shoulders moving in breaths that still aren’t quite even, his eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

 “Not always... But they can be.” His response was delayed, distracted almost. His eyes were lidded as they darted across her face. At her eyes, to her lips and across her cheeks that looked so smooth and so pleasant in the night. 

 A cold breeze blew through the open balcony window, making the curtains behind her dance and her nightgown move against her body, brushing against her nipples. Her toes curled as they hardened in response, a quiet breath escaped her, nearly inaudible, but he heard it. Of course he heard it.

 Luke watched as her hair flowed around her shoulders, not used to seeing it out of its usual braid or bun. She could see his eyes trail down the strands of hair within her padawan braid, down to her collarbones, and he licked his lips when his gaze met her chest, breath seeming to falter at the sight. 

 His breathing grew heavy again as she leaned forward without thinking, her body moving practically without her permission. She wasn’t even thinking about what she was doing. Her stomach bubbled with longing and all she knew was that she needed to be close to him. 

 “How do you tell the difference between a dream and something prophetic?” She whispered, pausing so she could look into his eyes, looking at whatever emotion lay beneath them, desperate to know if this was ok, If she was reading this correctly.

 There was something there, something akin to desire. But there was hesitation as well. She could see it in the crease between his eyebrows. It made her hesitate, not wanting to push this further if he didn’t want it.

 “You just feel it.” He responded shakily, swallowing once more as his eyes darted to her lips, his tongue wetting his own without a second thought. When his eyes met hers again, there was an excited cloudiness there.

 She took it as her sign. Her permission to lean in closer, watching him as she did so for any sign of discomfort, but he looked at her lips again and she could’ve sworn he leaned in too. 

 She could feel his hot breath on her face as she neared and she stopped just before their lips met, waiting for him to make the final move. 

 He hesitated. 

“We shouldn’t do this.” He stated simply but didn’t make a move to pull away, his voice a rough whisper. 

 Her nose bumped his as she moved the smallest bit to look him in the eye, lips moving further away just by a centimetre 

 “Do you want me to stop?” She asked. Her question was genuine, but it came out breathlessly. Dreamily. Full of want. 

 He took a moment to respond, gulping nervously, his breathing shaky.

 She was about to pull away, about to apologise for her forwardness when he finally shook his head. 

 “No.” 

 He still didn’t move toward her, like he was nervous to make the first move but when she finally brought her lips to his in a gentle kiss, he responded immediately. His lips closed around hers without question, soft and cautious. 

 Despite her initiating it, he took the lead, repositioning his head to capture her lips with more ease, adjusting his body as he leant in.  

 She lifted a hand to his cheek, sighing against his lips when he leant into her touch, moving his real hand to the side of her neck, cupping the back of her head to pull her in whilst his mechanical hand rested on her thigh in front of him. 

 As the kiss deepened, she lifted herself on to her knees, cautiously crawling into his lap, making sure he had plenty of time to stop her if he felt like he needed to, but he welcomed her gladly. His hand on her thigh slid up to her hip to pull her in, the fabric of her nightgown riding up unintentionally as he did. 

 She settled into his lap, body on fire as her thighs rested around his waist, enjoying the way her bare skin felt against his. 

 The kiss was heated, breathless and desperate, but remained innocent enough until his grip on her tightened and he pulled her closer, chests completely flush. 

 A whine left her throat at the feeling of her bare sex brushing against the unmistakable hardness under his sleep pants. 

 He sighed in response, moving his hand from her neck to her bare thigh, pulling her in closer again, encouraging the movement of her hips. 

 She ground down on him properly for the first time and he whined into her mouth. The sound was deep and desperate and she could feel it vibrate in his chest against her breasts as it came out. 

 She moved a hand to the back of his head, lacing her fingers through his hair as she felt Luke’s tongue ask for entrance against her lips. 

 She moved her hips again when their tongues met, encouraging him to continue. Giving him all the clues he needed to keep going, the reassurance that she was enjoying herself and that she was desperate for more of him. 

 His hand on her thigh trailed up under the fabric of her nightgown and around the curve of her ass, gripping it as he pulled her against him, jutting his hips up to meet the movement. She gripped his shoulder as her folds rubbed against his length, finding herself frustrated at the barrier of his sleep pants between them. 

 He placed his other hand under her nightgown, the fabric gathering on his forearms as he explored her bare skin, bringing his hands up to capture her breast in his palm, giving it an experimental squeeze. 

 She pushed her chest further into his hand whilst she rocked against him, breathing laboured. She sighed when he grunted in appreciation at the weight of her in his palm. 

 His thumb brushed against her nipple lightly and she pulled away from the kiss to let out a shaky moan, taking a moment to look at him. 

 “We really shouldn’t do this.” She stated, looking him in the eyes. But her actions betrayed her words, cupping his cheek and rolling her hips again, eyes closing at the feeling. She knew how he felt about this. About the Jedi Code. And wanted to give him any out he may have needed before they went too far. 

 But he groaned at her excitement, at the feeling of her wetness seeping through his cotton pants, eyes dropping to her neck and collarbone, where he brought a hand up to move her padawan braid over her shoulder with the rest of her hair. 

 “Do you want me to stop?” He mimicked her words from just moments before, his voice raspy and breathless as he brought his lips to her throat, shivering when he heard her gasp and grip the back of his hair at the feeling. 

 “Please don’t.” She moaned, revelling in the feeling of his lips dancing across her skin. 

 He let out a deep chuckle, one she’d never heard from him before, his breath cooling the saliva on her neck, making her whine as he brought his hands down to the hem of her gown and began pulling it up. A wave of excitement ran through her as he removed his lips to lift the fabric over her head, leaving her bare in front of him. 

 His eyes roamed her body, wetting his lips as he looked down at her breasts, discarding the garment wherever it fell and bringing both of his hands to her chest, thumbs grazing over her nipples once more, a restrained breath leaving his mouth as he watched as her face contorted in pleasure. 

 She reached a hand between them, tugging at the band of his cotton sleepwear to communicate what she wanted. 

 She lifted herself up on her knees, giving him space to pull the garment down. 

 Her thighs quivered with excitement as his length was freed from his pants, pink tip wet with precum and standing flush and straight. 

 She helped him rid his legs of the fabric so they were both bare for one another, hearts hammering and chests heaving with strained breath as they gazed at each other, the weight of what they were about to do sinking in. They didn’t move for a moment, looking to the other for their final looks of approval, to make sure this was a decision they wanted to make together. 

 He looked up at her, eyes softening as he brought his hand to her cheek, pulling her in. She captured his lips in a kiss once more, revelling in the spark on her skin where their bare chests connected. 

 She moved over his lap, rolling her hips once again and they both sighed as her wet folds finally ground against the bare underside of his length. His hand grasped her hip, making her skin feel like it was on fire as his fingers tightened on her body, groaning at the sensation of her slick coating his shaft. 

 She did it once, twice more before lifting herself on her knees whilst he moved his real hand between their bodies, positioning himself at her entrance.

 She lowered herself onto him, watching his face as his tip breached her entrance.

She gasped at the feeling and electricity shot through her. His jaw hung open, eyebrows furrowed and shoulders moved with the inflation of his lungs, eyelids fluttering. He let out a strained moan, his grip bruisingly tight.  

 They made eye contact as she settled further, taking her time lowering herself on to his length, savouring the feeling of her stretching around his girth.

 She moaned when she finally bottomed out, gripping his shoulders to ground her as her thighs quivered. His eyes were blown, pupils dilated as he watched her face, closing them only to place a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist as she began to move. 

 It was agonisingly slow and drove him crazy, the way she moved on him, lifting her hips and feeling him dragging out of her slowly, only to sink back down again at the same pace. Slowly and gently, savouring the feeling of him inside her, like she was committing him to memory. 

 His grip tightened as he grabbed a hold of her thighs, helping her lift her body, guiding her. 

 The way he grabbed her made her think he was going to take charge, change the pace and slam her body back down to his. But instead, he matched her pace, moaning into her mouth and jutting his hips in time with hers, needy and desperate but still tender and gentle. 

 His head dropped to her shoulder as their bodies moved together, leaving sloppy, delirious kisses on her neck every so often while she gripped his hair, moaning into his neck as his fingers gripped her body. The sound of their panting filled the room as their pace quickened, Luke’s breathing growing laboured. 

 She could tell he was fast approaching his release. Could sense it from the way he grasped at her thighs but also within the air around her, as if the tension in his body filled the room. The coil in his stomach, growing.

 His shield must’ve been down.

 He moved back, eyes locking with hers as he positioned his mechanical hand between their bodies, the faux skin feeling close to lifelike, but lacking the warmth of his body. She could see the determination in his face, like he knew he was going to finish too fast and wanted to make sure she finished first. 

 He laid a hand flat on her stomach, reaching his thumb down until he found her clit. 

 “M-maker.” She gasped, eyes nearly rolling back at the spark his circling thumb sent through her body. If her eyes had been open, she would’ve seen the satisfied smirk he wore when her body stuttered against him, savouring the feeling of her clenching around him. The sounds she was making flowed through him, bringing him closer to his end. 

 The presence of his pleasure flooded her through the Force, swirling in the air as his release grew near, aiding her journey as well. 

  As if he could feel it, maybe he actually could, he put more pressure on her clit and her body shivered as she got closer to her climax, struggling to move against him. 

 He thrust his hips up, using his other hand, still clasped on her waist, to guide her down on to him, taking charge as her body struggled with the extra stimulation. She moaned as his hips bucked into her, his cock filling her beautifully as she throbbed around it, orgasm swirling in her abdomen. 

 He guided her through it, swirling his thumb around her clit until her thighs convulsed around his waist. Her face contorted in ecstasy, moaning as she reached her climax and Luke finally allowed himself to finish, burying his face in her neck as he whimpered with his release, hips sputtering and biceps flexing with the grip he had on her body, cock twitching inside her. 

 Her walls throbbed around him as she came down from her high, falling limp against his body, face resting on his shoulder as she caught her breath, enjoying the remaining waves of pleasure as their bodies relaxed into one another. 

 His hand left her pelvis, moving to engulf her in an exhausted embrace, one hand flat against her back and the other in her hair, thumb rubbing against her jaw. 

 They stayed there for a while, enjoying being in each other's arms until she eventually pulled back, only to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. He reciprocated sweetly, stroking her hair softly and massaging his fingers into her scalp. 

 They pulled apart to rest their foreheads together, eyes closed and simply appreciating each other's presence, their heavy breathing slowing as they relaxed. 

 After a while of comfortable silence, a thought struck her and the young woman smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, hand moving to cover her mouth as she opened her eyes. 

 Luke pulled back to look her in the eye, a smile toying at his lips. 

 “What?” He asked with a soft voice. 

She giggled, covering her face shyly as she shook her head, hair flowing around her shoulders. “It’s nothing-“ she chuckled again, eyes closing as her shoulders shook with soft laughter. 

 A toothy grin broke out on his face, his cheeks creasing as he let out his own laugh. 

 “Well now you have to tell me.” He teased, lifting a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear affectionately. 

 She smiled at him, hesitating for a moment but so caught up in the intimacy of the moment and the laughter between them that she said it anyway. 

 “I was just thinking…” she trailed off, looking away as she held back another laugh.  “That for a man sworn to celibacy, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.” She hid her face as it came out of her mouth, cheeks flushing as she giggled. 

 Luke’s eyes widened, a surprised look on his face at the forwardness of her statement and for a moment she was nervous she’d said too much. But she relaxed when he scrunched his nose as a shy smile broke out on his face.

 “Oh my-“ he cut himself off with a laugh, bringing a hand up to his face in embarrassment. 

 She laughed even harder at his reaction, thankful that he’d found himself amused by her joke, bringing a hand to rest on his bicep.

 He removed his hand from his face and looked up at her again, a wide smile still playing on his lips. 

 “I haven’t always been a Jedi, you know.” He offered as an explanation, dropping his hand to play with the ends of her hair. 

 She smirked, deciding to keep going with her teasing. 

 “So Tattooines resident farm boy, Luke Skywalker, got around that much, huh?” She poked his cheek playfully when she said it, smiling when he rolled his eyes in jest. 

 “Not that much.” He shook his head, swatting her hand away gently. “But I did have a friend, Biggs, who loved to talk about all of his experiences.” He exaggerated his words when describing his friend, a boyish giggle left his throat at the memory, his face plastered with his grin. 

 She smiled affectionately at him as she toyed with his robotic hand that he hadn’t removed from hers, feeling the replicated skin and the mechanics underneath it, watching as the gears moved with every twitch of his fingers. 

 When his laugh died down, he continued; 

 “And you know that we aren’t sworn to celibacy.” He teased, still toying with the ends of her hair with his other hand, trailing his fingertips across the bead that secured the braid behind her ear, the hair within it longer than the rest on her head. 

 “We can technically make love, we just can’t be in love.” He finished, a smirk still playing on his lips but she could hear the way he trailed off, watched as the smile slowly left his face and a sudden sadness filled his eyes. 

 She smiled softly at him, trying to keep the conversation light. 

 “Sounds like a loophole to me.” She joked, lacing her fingers with his. He looked down at them, rubbing a mechanical thumb across the back of her hand, the whirring of the gears within it breaking the silence in the room. 

 She doesn’t know why she says it, why it was on her mind or why she thought it was a good idea to verbalise it, but without thinking, she whispers;

 ”Those things kind of go hand in hand for me.”

 The weight of her words filled the room and she felt mortified the second she said it, in awe of the implied admission in the sentence, but unable to deny it. 

 His eyes met hers, realisation settling in them as his face fully dropped to one of sadness. Something akin to regret washed over him as he took a moment to respond, mouth opening and closing as he thought of what to say, shaking his head. 

 The way he said her name reminded her of the times he’d scold her for being distracted, but instead of authority behind his tone, it was disappointment. Heartbreak. 

 He brought his other hand on top of their clasped fingers. 

 “This was-“ he stops short, struggling to find the words.

 He shook his head, running a thumb over her hand as he tries to collect his thoughts.

 “We shouldn’t have…” He can’t bring himself to say any more, but he doesn’t have to. 

 “I know.” She states, simply. A sad smile ghosts her face as she looks at him, bringing her free hand up to his, cupping his cheek. “I know, Luke.” 

 Despite his words. Despite what he knows he should be doing; He leans into her touch. Furrowing his eyebrows, gloomy eyes looking into hers as he watched them begin to tear up. His chest tightened at the sight of her eyes welling, gripping her hand tighter.

 “C-can we just…” She began, swallowing the lump in her throat in an attempt not to cry. “Can we pretend that it’s ok? Just for tonight?” She asked, pushing his hair back to get a better view of his face, committing the view of his desperate eyes in the white light of the moon to memory. 

 His stare darted between her eyes, seeming torn. He was silent for a while, jaw clenching as his mind raced. But eventually, he sighed, rubbing his real hand over her forearm, almost reassuringly as he nodded, a sad smile on his face. 

 She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, leaning down to peck his lips once more and he held her there, savouring the feeling of her lips on his.

 She adjusted herself in his lap, his cock still half-hard inside her and he let out a small, overstimulated grunt, pulling away for a second to look her in the eyes, bringing his hand up to wipe the tear that began to roll down her cheek. 

 “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He promised, cradling her face. 

 She nodded with a sad smile, leaning in to kiss him again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

 The night passed slowly as swapped stories, sharing laughs together in each other's embrace, tangled in the bed sheets as the sound of the curtains shuffling in the breeze filled the room amongst their whispers. 

 He told her of his time growing up on Tatooine. Of his best friend, Biggs and his aunt Beru and Uncle Owen and all the trouble he’d get in for getting up to mischief in town. He explained how he and Biggs used to race landspeeders and fly small ships whenever they could, often crashing or ending up somewhere they shouldn’t have just because they egged each other on and brought out the worst in each other in the most beautifully chaotic way. He said that doing these silly things had made him realise that he wanted to be a pilot, and had even applied for the Imperial academy, simply because he knew they would train him to fly better than he knew he already could.

 He made her giggle at the mention of his childhood memories of Peli, who he hadn’t really known as anything but the mean lady at the Spaceport that wouldn’t let the aspiring-pilots in to look at any of the ships in her hangars, even when the young boys begged. 

 She shook her head in amusement, unsurprised by his observation of the older woman. A smile graced her lips as she did, only dimming slightly after an oddly homesick feeling struck her, realising that she hadn’t seen her old boss, someone that she considered a friend, in quite a long time. 

 Luke, whether through the Force or solely from her facial expression, had noticed the shift in her, asking her sweetly to tell him of her past. 

 He’d known the surface-level things. That she was from a primitive planet in a far away galaxy and became stranded on Tatooine, ignorant to many of the workings of her new home. But he listened intently as she explained how Peli, despite being an abrasive and rude woman on the surface, had selflessly taken the young woman in after seeing the lost look on her face when the ship that she’d landed in not an hour earlier, had taken off without her on it. 

 She explained how she felt quite neanderthalic, having little to no knowledge of most of the technology she came across or how the currency system worked. 

 Peli had helped her through it all in the months they lived together by explaining the politics to her, reciting the history she knew of and even teaching her to read and write in other common languages in the afternoons, after dinner and before she retired to her uncomfortable cot in the back of the Tool Shop, where she slept amongst the droids.

 Their chatting lasted hours, even after their eyes began to get heavy and they started yawning, unwilling to let the night end. There was a part of her that wondered if he, too, was trying to enjoy it while it lasted, for they knew they had to face reality tomorrow.

 She tried not to think of the sunrise and the knowledge of the inevitable serious discussion they would have to have when the time came. 

 Finding comfort, for now, in the safety of the moonlight as they revelled in feeling as though they had no responsibility, wrapped up in the discussion of their interests and passions outside of training. 

 They stopped only to share sweet kisses or even to once again become a mess of tangled limbs as he eased them both slowly back into the throws of… what did he call it?

 Making love. 

 Hands gripping at each other's bodies, moans swallowed by each other's mouths, too absorbed with each other to even think about the world around them as she grabbed at his body for purchase, tugging at his hair without thinking. 

 She nearly felt bad for it, even through her sex-drunk daze, having not intended to grab him so harshly, but she was pleasantly surprised when she felt his hips sputter, moaning into her neck as he came again. 

 She found herself pocketing that knowledge in the back of her mind for later.

 He collapsed on top of her, being cautious to rest his weight on his arms, as to not crush her under him.

 She kept her hand in his hair, loosening her grip to gently massage his scalp lazily, arms as weak as the rest of her body as her chest heaved and her legs twitched. 

 His eyes closed at the feeling of her hand in his hair, revelling in the comfort he found within it and finding himself unwilling for it to stop. 

 He withdrew from her, both of them wincing with sensitivity and letting out small grunts at the feeling. But instead of rolling to her side or moving off of her, he chose to move down to rest his head against her chest, spreading his body across the mattress and bringing his hands to her sides, holding her dearly as he listened to her erratic heartbeat.

 She moved her other arm across his back, embracing him as she tried to calm her breathing and they stayed like that for a while, basking in their post-sex haze as her fingers trailed over his back and through his hair. 

 She found herself not thinking of the Jedi Code, or of their agreement to speak of the consequences of their own actions tomorrow, but of her happiness. Of the way her stomach fluttered when his fingers twitched against her side or the way her whole body felt tingly with excitement. 

 He sighed contentedly when she placed a gentle kiss to his head, moving to look up at her and she swears she feels his heart hammer against her stomach when they make eye contact. 

 She brushes his hair off of his forehead, smiling down at him and shaking her head. 

 “Your hair is a mess.” She teased, bringing both hands up to rake her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down from its previous nest-looking mop. 

 He laughed a genuine, hearty laugh as he brought his hand up to his head, helping her fix his hair as a small blush dusted his face. 

 “You really know how to keep the mood going, don’t you?” He jested, smirking down at her teasingly. 

 Her smile grew, laughing lightly as she came to the conclusion that she really liked this side of Luke Skywalker. 

 Relaxed, smiley and even a little goofy. Willing to joke around with her and reciprocating her light-hearted teasing. 

 His usual seriousness was endearing, one of the things that she’d actually always found attractive about him. But now, watching his eyes crinkle and his smile grow as he shook his head down at her, a gentle chuckle rumbling in his chest; she decided that, yes. She could get used to this. 

 Their bodies were sweaty and sticking together, hair tousled and messy as they lay gazing at each other with stupid, love-sick grins. It was then that a new thought struck her. 

 She moved her head, twisting her face into a look of pondering, as if in thought. To sell her performance even more, she brought a finger up to tap on her chin as she hummed, feigning indecision. 

 After a moment, she widened her eyes, as if to say ‘ah, i know!’

 “I think I know how to keep the mood going.” She teased, excited to keep their silly conversations going, desperate to see more of his goofy grin that she found herself enamoured by.  

 He played along, tilting his head in mock interest as he spoke.

 “Oh yeah?” He offered, smirking at the little joke she was playing. 

 She nodded, a mischief-ridden smile stretching across her face as she looked down at him, loving the way his eyes sparkled with excitement. She raised her eyebrows suggestively as she spoke; 

 “Wanna join me in the refresher?”

[fictionalsweethearts]

THE COMMISSION PT. 4 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw, nsfw, smut, fingering omgg

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. I AIN'T YOUR MAMA TO SPANK YOUR ASS.

Word count: 5,384 (yes, things HAPPEN in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Two years earlier

"I'm fine." Sevika murmured, in a tone that could scare anyone away. Except you.

Third day in a row you slept in Zaun's main square, you were cold and your stomach was asking for a more substantial dish than the cookies you could afford. You smelled of street, oil and rain, you were risking everything to get some money and sleep under a roof today.

Many warned you about Sevika, it was better not to mess with her or even show your nose, unless you were proposing a card game, a business or you were a lady-in-waiting. You were none of the three, but you trusted what your hands and your tools were capable of. You held the toolbox, keeping an upright posture even though inside you feared ending up in a dumpster or bleeding to death in the middle of the Last Drop.

"Your arm seems to need a checkup." You insisted. "I know the model, I assume you've had it for about five years, yeah?"

Sevika frowned, putting down the cards and letting out a puff of smoke. She didn't look convinced, more irritated. You insisted.

"I don't charge much."

Sevika flicked her eyes up and down your form, her expression stern. She had seen you before - a street rat, hanging around the less salubrious parts of the city. You were skinny, dirty, and reeked of poverty. You had no business approaching her, let alone with such audacity.

"And what makes you think you can fix it?” she scowled, her voice as harsh as sandpaper. "You some kind of mechanic?”

"Yes." you said, noticing the way Sevika was studying you. You couldn't call her out, you had to swallow your pride in order to swallow a decdent meal later, if everything goes right. "I used to work at Benzo's pawn shop, fixing unused appliances. I brought fine pieces back to life." you said, your eyes flickering to Sevika's mechanic arm. "Like yours."

Certainly Sevika was not pleased with your audacity, she was forced to answer for Silco to idiots, drug addicts, gang members and murderers, so you were just another one to add to the list.

"Used to?" she grunted, her eyes narrowing as she took another drag on her cigarette. "What, you get fired or something?"

"He's dead." you reminded her, knowing damn well Silco's goons were behind that.

Yes, you were bretraying yourself and your past by turning to Sevika to offer your services, but your situation wasn't getting any better. Not with a dead father, an absent mother, and debts to deal with. You should have known better, gambling leads to no good, neither does the air of Zaun. You fell victim to both, the first killed your father, the second probably killed your mother, you weren't sure. And the debt collectors were breathing down your neck.

She eyed you for a moment longer, her gaze weighing your worth. You were desperate, that much was obvious. And she couldn't help but see an opportunity in that. "Alright," she grunted, her voice gruff. "Let's say I let you take a look. What's it gonna cost me?"

You huffed, you were losing dignity there. "A meal." you shrugged. "And a sip of whiskey if you're feeling generous. But I assure you, I do a fine job."

"You'll get your meal and your shot of whiskey," she grumbled, knwoing she would regret giving you a chance. "But if you don't do a damn good job, I'll rip your pretty little head off."

"My head will stay above my shoulders..." you stated. "And your arm, brand new." you added.

Sevika raised her eyebrows, giving the guard a signal to let you come over and take a seat next to her on the couch. You had little time to prove that your offer was not talk but fact. You opened the toolbox, taking out a screwdriver to begin taking apart the arm and separating the pieces. The supply of Shimmer on top seemed novel, but predictable. You knew what to do

As you progressed with your work, Sevika's first impression about you began to crumble. Beneath the hollow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes was a beautiful girl intent on her task, with attentive eyes, deft fingers, and latent confidence. The woman then began to ask questions, hoping to intimidate you.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Twenty-six."

"So young, and already out on the streets?" she grunted, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. "What, your parents throw you out or something?"

"They're dead." you mumbled. Sevika was holding her card with her flesh hand, still gambling while you were attending her prosthetic arm.

Your confession did not move her, having parents alive and present in Zaun was a privilege. However, her curiosity only increased. "Orphan?"

"You could say so." you said, glancing at the disassembled parts, studying the system of Sevika’s arm. The thermal paste needed changing, luckily you had some on you, the seals needed oil too, and some of the gears could use replacing.

"So you're just a street rat then," she said bluntly. "No family, no friends, nowhere to call home."

"Rat." you huffed. "I'm prettier than that." you might have been hungry, skinny and dirty, but you were a lot smarter and prettier than a goddamn rat.

"Maybe," she smirked. "But you still smell worse than one."

As Sevika took the time to mock you, your eyes were split between the arm and the opponents' play. You were sure that Sevika was taking a big risk by continuing to allow the cuprier to keep adding cards to the deck. "Stand," you whispered. "You're too close."

Sevika raised her eyebrow, planning to ignore you, however your comment didn't seem to be wrong. She let out a sigh before raising her hand to the cuprier. With that, the man turned over his cards. "Seventeen." The man said, to which you looked with pleased eyes at Sevika's nineteen.

"Agh, for fuck's sake." groaned one of the opponents, losing the bet. Blackjack was quite unpredictable, but you advised Sevika well; she hit the jackpot.

She chuckled, turning to look at you with a mix of surprise and respect. "Well then, not bad," she said, her voice gruff but impressed. "You really know your stuff."

"The rat's useful." you mumbled. "I have a name, though."

"I haven't asked your name." she replied, as she placed her just won chips on the pile.

"I rather you to remember the quality of my work than my name." you stated, assembling the arm back on Sevika. You turned the last screws, applied oil to the parts, and finally inserted the supply of Shimmer into the shoulder compartment, clicking your tongue. "Set and done, miss."

As the arm connected to her system, Sevika immediately noticed the fluidity of the gears and the restored sensitivity of the metal fingers. She flexed her arm and stretched it out, looking at you with a half-smile. It was all she would give you, along with an, "And here I thought I would rip your head off."

Before you could accept the praise wholeheartedly, there was this sudden commotion in the club. Another bastard too immersed in Shimmer to contain himself had entered, knocking out the guards with just the touch of a hand, and actually, knocking down everything in his path.

Fuck.

Sevika tensed, eyes flickering to the situation. She recognized the signs of a Shimmer-induced maniac, and knew damn well the trouble that could follow.

"Gods," she growled under her breath. "Not this bastard again."

Sevika quickly rose from her seat, her eyes watching the Shimmer-fueled maniac with a steely glare. It was only a matter of time before he would turn his attention to the rest of the bar, and Sevika knew she had to act fast. One of the other players had already fled, hiding behind the wall near the bar. The other stood frozen in fear, unable to speak or move. But you remained calm, your eyes on Sevika, awaiting her next move.

Sevika looked more irritated than alert, she moved her mechanical arm and walked towards the purple beast in front of her, her bearing filling the entire place, her confidence latent. You watched the fight unfold with a smile, the arm worked like a charm and there was no denying that you did a great job, especially when Sevika pulled the opponent’s leg against her and her elbow landed on the knee joint, bending the limb at an unnatural angle, followed by a punch capable of sending him flying through the air and landing in front of the bar. You drank from her glass, watching the guards carry the unconscious opponent away and Sevika letting out a sigh. The music began playing again.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, and by then you had realized that it was a habit of hers, and before scolding you for your attitude and your audacity in drinking from her glass, the woman called for the waiter. "Bring the girl dinner, and a glass of whiskey." she mumbled.

"I like it with soda," you added, smiling pleased from the couch.

Sevika rolled her eyes. "With soda," she said.

When you had already filled your stomach and calmed your nerves with a good whiskey, Sevika reappeared through the door. She had disappeared during your dinner, but returned to the room with a small bag of coins between her fingers and a less cold look than before; you could read the ambition on her face.

"For the arm repair," Sevika said, placing the pouch next to you on the table. To it, she added a small card with an address and the Silco symbol on the bottom, known as the "Eye of Zaun."

You knew that card was your golden ticket.

"This..." she said lowly. "Is a way to keep yourself fed and off the streets, if you're interested."

As you nodded, Sevika leaned in to whisper in a tone that made you shudder. Her scent of tobacco wafted into your nose, her closeness overwhelming. "Report to this address tomorrow at 8. Not a single minute later. We'll talk business when the time comes."

"Yes, ma'am." you said, making Sevika grin.

"Sevika." she said. "I am not into formality."

With that, she walked away, leaving you with a job opportunity and a pouch full of coins.

You did it. You fucking did it.

And tomorrow you would prove that your actions weren't just talk but pure merit. You counted the coins, it was enough for a hotel room and half of what you owed Horner. You smiled, he's always been good faking a Shimmer overdose.

As the days went by, you went from rat to girl. You met Silco, you closed a deal for private services to the organization, you took care of the maintenance of machinery, clothing and weapons. You were a full-time worker, you spent your hours within the four walls of the workshop, living off of coffee, bread, fruit and whiskey. Sevika watched you from the beginning, it was the task that Silco had entrusted to her; "Keep an eye on the girl, make her work and keep her mouth shut."

And that's what you did.

When the time came, you went from girl to mechanic. The workshop was not only your workplace, but your temple. Silco allowed you to accept external orders, you began to build a business that not only gave you autonomy, but also colored your cheeks, filled out your muscles and gave you the beauty that poverty had taken from you.

It was then that you went from mechanic to sweetheart. And Sevika forced herself to keep her distance, but the numerous appointments to check her arm, the jokes, the glances and the talks had loosened this armor against you. Now you ate full dinners, steaks, roasted vegetables, drank lemonade and replaced coffee with Shimmer, with Sevika as your only provider.

That was her mistake.

She thought she had done you a favor by providing you the doses. You worked better, your efficiency was through the roof, your performance impeccable. But that night, seeing you unconscious on the floor of her office, surrounded by paramedics and pale as snow, Sevika knew that you ended up like this because of her.

Her fault. Her damn fault.

"You've allowed this." said Silco, dragging from his cigar. He seemed quite unbothered by the situation, considering your incident as another problematic worker that couldn't control herself. All businesses have causalities, however, this wasn't just any. "She wasn't supposed to be at your office."

Your inert eyes, the way your body lay languid, a purple substance coming out of the corner of your mouth as if your insides were melting, the paramedics trying to revive a being whose life was hanging by a thread. It was a nightmare.

"She's dead." The paramedic said.

Dead.

Dead.

You died for her.

Because of her.

"Ah!" Sevika sat up suddenly, a drop of sweat wetting the back of her neck when her eyes landed on the halo of moonlight that was leaking through the window. She had dreamed of the accident again.

She wiped the sweat from her neck with a quick gesture and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Just a dream, she told herself, just a damn dream.

Sevika didn't even stop to put her mechanical arm on, which was resting next to her bed, but left the room at a quick pace and uncovered your sleeping figure on the living room couch.

You were fine.

You were curled up on the couch, your bandaged wrist resting next to your face, serene and calm. Your breathing reminded Sevika that you were still alive, even though you threatened to die on the old wooden floor of her office a month ago. But you were too stubborn to die from an overdose. You shifted in your spot, the breeze biting at your skin in the absence of the blanket over you, and when you opened your eyes you found the immense silhouette of Sevika before you. You screamed.

Sevika winced at your sharp cry, her hand reaching out instinctively to cover your mouth, to silence the sound before it echoed through the apartment.

"Shhh!" she hissed, her eyes darting towards the main door. The last thing she needed was for someone to think she was murdering someone in there.

"Quiet, quiet," she whispered, her hand still firmly over your mouth. "You'll wake the whole damn block with that shrieking."

Your heart skipped a beat before connecting two coherent thoughts and realizing it was Sevika. The woman pulled her hand away. "Fuck, don't stand in front of me like that again," you gasped. "I thought it was the grim reaper."

She took a step back, giving you some breathing room. "Believe me, he must have more important things to attend to," she said, her voice still low. "Just came to check on you. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

You sat up, reaching out to turn the oil lamp on. Sevika was still on her tank top and boxers, it was unusual to see her without the prosthetic arm. "I'm fine." you said. "You could've came to check in the morning, damn... what time it is?" you asked.

It's three," she replied, her tone still hushed. "Go back to sleep, girl. I just... wanted to make sure you were alright."

The lamplight outlined Sevika's silhouette, you could see the sweat on her neck and a certain pallor on her face. You assumed it was another nightmare, you already knew about them, but you avoided bringing them up because every time you did, she would shut you up with an "I'm fine, girl, go to sleep."

You watched her walk towards the balcony, a pack of cigarettes in her hand and a deep sigh leaving her lips. When she had the cigarette between her lips, you were suddenly beside her, lighting it up. “What’s really going on?” you asked.

"Can't a woman just enjoy her smoke in peace?" she grumbled, taking a drag from the cigarette. But there was no real malice in her voice, just a touch of weariness. She leaned against the balcony railing, the metal cool beneath her bare arm.

You sighed, coming up against a wall again. Sevika was impenetrable, so much so that you didn't know what was going through her mind unless she said it, and you could certainly assume it had to do with her nightmares, but you didn't dare to intrude on her fears. Still, you stayed next to her on the balcony, your stomach aching as the first sign of withdrawal.

The first few days were atrocious, you trembled and vomited every hour, you believed that dying was more pleasant than enduring such nausea and fits of anger and pain. However, Sevika stood firm by your side, brought you to her apartment and such a nurse, kept track of your symptoms and silenced them with the medicines the doctor had prescribed you. More than once, she stayed next to you on the couch, talking to you about trivialities or reading a book until the sleeping pill took effect and you could sleep. Only then did Sevika allow herself to stroke your forehead and relive the guilt of the accident.

Sevika had lived long enough to witness the effects of Shimmer on people. It didn't just destroy wills, it destroyed bodies and minds. The mutations from overuse of Shimmer were morbid and grotesque, luckily you didn't experience any, but that didn't make seeing you on the office floor, languid, pale, with your eyes open any less terrifying. Silco saw Sevika lose her temper for the first time in his life.

"I shouldn't have let you take those doses," she finally muttered, the words coming out with a hint of gravel in her voice. "I should've found a different way. This..." she gestured to you, the signs of her failure still lingering in the bags under your eyes and the scars along your arms, "...this is on me. My fault."

So that's what it was all about; guilt. Sevika had learned to take the blame for other people, to take responsibility for other people's mistakes, and this time was no different. Yes, she made a mistake by giving you doses of Shimmer for two years, but you were the one who decided to relapse. And you took all the blame. "Nobody forced me to relapse that day, Sevika." you stated. "And nobody could've stopped me neither, not even you."

For a moment, she was quiet, mulling over your words, the smoke from her cigarette spiraling up into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be the one consoling me, girl,” she said finally, the vulnerability in her tone betraying her gruff exterior. “I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

"We both know that a worker isn't taken care of the way you take care of me," you stated, your words implying more than what they said.

"You've never been a mere worker for me," she stated, letting out a puff of smoke, moving away into the air. Zaun was quiet, as if the city had stopped the day you nearly died. "Sometimes I can't stand you, you don't know when to back off."

You reached for her cigarette, taking a drag. "I never learned to back off."

“Of course, you didn’t,” she said, a note of resignation in her voice. “You’re as stubborn as they come. Should’ve known from the beginning that I’d have my hands full with you.”

And here you were, two years later, sleeping on her couch and making her coffee in the mornings, refusing to die without proving once again that you are many things, but not a street rat.

You had already settled into a routine. Sevika would leave early in the morning, usually returning at noon to check on you. You always waited for her with a cigarette and a cup of coffee, you started adding a touch of whiskey when you realized she liked it. You used to keep the apartment clean, read the books Sevika kept, play with her cards and sometimes take out your tools and make crafts or repair unused items, even though Sevika had forbidden you to work until you had recovered.

"Your recovery comes first, girl. Go easy."

Sometimes you found yourself chatting with her on the balcony, taking drags from her cigarette and oiling her mechanical arm, before daring to ask how her day was, absorbing her worries and whispering a "you always put up with too much, Sev" afterwads, only for her to shrug and light another cigarette. Being her tenant had allowed you to see Sevika in a much more intimate setting, without the need to maintain the impenetrable facade. You watched her sleep, yawn, train, and even cook; your favorite was the mushroom stew with enhacium powder. It was quite the meal, always leaving you with a heavy stomach and a pleasant drowsiness, although your tongue took the brunt of the sting of the powder. Sevika could feel you starting to itch as your cheeks colored, and with a smile, she would hand you the lemonade.

You were embarrassed to admit it, even more so considering that the overdose could have killed you, but you were grateful that circumstances led you to live with Sevika. Sometimes you wished you had done it sooner, but you remembered the way she reacted when you woke up in the hospital and regretted it.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, girl, understood? Never again." she said, agitated, holding your hand in hers.

You could never apologize enough to take the blame off Sevika's chest, so you just limited yourself to being a good roommate.

"Would you mind helping me with the painkiller?" you asked then, placing the cigarette between Sevika's lips. Despite having started the methadone treatment more than a month ago, it still gave you the shivers to handle the syringe.

"Of course," she said simply, her voice a mix of gruffness and understanding. "Let me do it."

You two sat down on the couch, Sevika holding the cigarette between her lips as she wrapped the elastic around your arm and tightened it. You didn’t admit it out loud, but ever since you’d been staying at Sevika’s apartment, your favorite time of day was when she helped you with the methadone. You loved the way her eyes focused on you, her thumb gently searching for your vein, commanding you to close your fist, then after piercing your skin, whispering “there you go,” pulling the needle back out before caressing the mark with her finger and purring “good girl.” She made you feel special, you were pampered by a woman who didn’t pamper anyone, and it was exhilarating in the most unusual way.

You thought you could take a thousand injections if it meant continuing to be Sevika’s good girl.

"Easy as pie," she said, her voice a rough whisper. "No pain, no drama." she added, disposing of the syringe in the trash can.

You watched her put out her cigarette in the ashtray, expecting her to sit next to you and wait for you to fall asleep like she always did. You had gotten used to hearing her voice by now. Just then, the first hit of the drug bathed you. It was always the strongest, however after a few weeks, the dose had decreased and only gave you a pleasant drowsiness.

"You're getting sleepy." she said. "Good."

Sevika watched as your eyelids fluttered shut, your body slumping back against the couch. The drug had done its work, a gentle drowsiness seeping into your limbs and calming your nerves. You felt an arm wrap around your waist, Sevika lifted you over her shoulder and carefully carried you to her bed. "It's too damn cold in the living room," was her excuse, even though you didn't ask for one. The bed was still warm, wide and the sheets smooth. Sevika wasn't lying when she said she prefers her whiskey neat and her bed soft.

She turned off the lamp, snuggling up to you, keeping a prudent distance that at the moment seemed ridiculous to you. "Do I scare you?" you teased her.

"Scare me?" she huffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Come closer then." you said, pushing your luck just enough. And Sevika seemed to give in.

You rested your head on her chest, allowing yourself to inhale her scent and feel the beat of her heart; it was slow, imposing, just like her. Sevika frowned, ignoring the urge to bury her nose in your hair and entwine her legs with yours. You heard her sigh, you were dozing off by then. "Rest, girl, you need it."

Sevika wasn’t the best early riser, but she woke up in a better mood that morning. A hand around your waist, her nose on your neck as if your scent alone had calmed all her nightmares, and it did. You were still asleep, comfortable and serene while she spooned you, unaware that Sevika pulled you close to her, taking in your cleavage from where she was; your shirt had shifted in the night, revealing more of your skin.

Look away, Sevika, get a grip.

Sevika sighed against your neck, knowing she was treading unfamiliar and inappropriate territory, but she couldn't help it. Her hand found the edge of your tank top, pulling it down just to reveal your breasts; smooth, tender and full.

No, she shouldn't, but... she wanted to? Absolutely.

Her lips found the sensitive area of your neck, trailing kisses and nips down to your shoulders and collarbone, daring to squeeze one of your tits between her fingers. You shifted on your place, the air biting on your bare chest managed to draw your attention and Sevika pulled her hands off, as if she was spooked of herself.

What the hell am I doing?

"Mhm..." you uttered, your hand seeking for Sevika's, bringing it back towards your chest. "Don't stop." you whispered, your eyes still closed.

Sevika gulped, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her body as she reached out again, catching your breast between her fingers and massaging it gently, peppering kisses down your neck, your cheek, your shoulder. You felt her abdomen press harder against your back, you shifted your ass against her, half asleep but perfectly aware of what was happening, and you wouldn’t let her stop.

She grunted against your neck, her hand squeezing harder your breast. "Don't move," she growled softly, her breath hot against your ear. "Stay just like this."

You moaned, your hand reaching her cheek, urging her to touch you, to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered open as she ran her hand down your stomach, teasing your lower belly, down to your legs, the inner side of your thighs. "Sev..." you purred.

"I'm here," she whispered against your ear. "I've got you."

"Shit." you whimpered, your eyes shutting once she slipped her hand into your shorts, settling between your legs. That's all you needed to fully wake up. "Ah, god." you panted, feeling her fingers against your slick.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?" she breathed against your ear, her words sending a shiver down your spine. She pressed kisses along your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "Yes, you are."

As much confidence Sevika showed, the truth was that inside she was shaking with fear. She was crossing a line she had imposed on herself when she met you two years ago, and she had never felt so out of control as she did now. It wasn’t just your moans, it was your scent, your heat, the idea that she was the one who gave you the opportunity that night at the club and now you were lying on her bed, squirming under her hand. She forged this situation from the moment she laid eyes on you, not knowing that you intended to end up in this position ever since she leaned in and her tobacco scent filled your nostrils. You intended to work for Sevika, to be her confidant, her best partner and above all… to become her weak point.

You pulled your head back, moaning as Sevika parted your legs and eased a finger inside you, licking your ear. "Sleeping on my couch, playing with my cards, wearing my clothes while I'm gone; all you've done to end up here." she mumbled, easing a second one, knowing you could take it.

"Yes, I... I did it." you whimpered, gripping the sheets between your fingers.

"You were testing me." she stated, biting on your neck. "Always pushing my buttons to see when I would give in."

You knew Sevika wasn't just playing around with you when she rubbed the heel of her hand against your clit, already swollen and sensitive for her. The room was filled with the obscene sound of your slick, your moans and Sevika's words. "Legs apart." she commanded. "You never learned to follow instructions, learn now." she said.

"Yes, ma'am." you whined, before Sevika chuckled.

"Didn't I tell you I'm not into formality?"

She could never forget the details of the time they met, no. Not when she was the one who saw you enter the club with your toolbox, your tired eyes, your steely confidence. Not when she was the one who asked Silco for a job opportunity for you and paid you with her own coins. Not when she chose you, for herself, from the first moment.

You were hers from the beggining, and somehow you knew it.

Her hand continued to work between your legs, her fingers moving expertly, making pleasurable heat pool in your belly. "You can pretend to be tough all you want, but when you're with me, you're not."

Your legs were locking around her hand, your breathing quick and ragged as Sevika sped up the motion of her fingers. Fuck, you were starting to shake, that tickling sensation settling in your stomach.

"You and your insolent mouth, your smug smile…" she whispered. "I wanted them for myself, I always did." You shifted, knowing that if Sevika had the mechanical arm on, she would already be choking you. However, you felt her move over you, trapping you against the mattress.

"Sevika… I'm…" you mewled, realizing you were on the very edge. "Huh, please..."

"I know." she smiled, as she laid above you, her hand firmly working on your throbbing pussy. "Now kiss me, pretty girl. Earn it."

You cupped her cheeks, kissing her as much as your moans would allow, tasting the tobacco on her tongue, her teeth between your lips. Sevika kissed like she walked, and that was saying a lot. You pulled back, realizing the trembling of your legs was the hint of an orgasm you couldn't contain. "Oh... god...!" you cried against her lips before you dove into the sensation.

And you melted.

Sevika leaned down to kiss your chin, your neck, totally in love with your whimpers and trembling lips, your smell of sweat, your juicy pussy. You barely rode the high when Sevika kissed your belly, a hand tracing fingers on your knee as her mouth hovered over your core. "I could lick it off of you, y'know?" she smirked.

You were in no position to ask or deny anything, but Sevika was in the perfect position to tempt you and play on your desire. “If only I didn’t have that meeting with Silco in…” she glanced at the clock beside the bed. “Ten minutes.”

Oh, no.

"Ten minutes is more than enough." you said, even though it sounded like a plea.

But Sevika chuckled, leaning to place a kiss on your lips. "I don't rush things when I eat a pretty girl out." she stated, leaving the bed.

You propped yourself up on your elbow, staring at Sevika with your lips apart. Unfazed, she took the mechanical arm and connected it to her shoulder, glancing at you with a rose brow.

"Wait for me with the coffee ready," she said, walking to the dresser to get ready. "I'll finish what I started, sugar, don't worry."

To be continued...

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Also, I haven't stopped to thank u all for your reception of this series. It makes me absolutely happy you girls like it so far! Thank u all <3

[urlocalcookie]

May I ask for… Archivist nsfw hc’s… 😔🫣 your nastiest, most horrific, heartwarming, idc.. all of them… (I CAN TAKE ALL THE ARCHIVISTS AT THE SAMR TIEM)

Alright bro 💀💀 calm down 😭

🔮୨{ Just assume it's a ken doll situation in the pants by default. They only have any form of genitals when fucking you.

🔮୨{ Most of them will choose about six inches.

🔮୨{ They enjoy bondage. Something about seeing you tied up and helpless is arousing to them. Just the way you struggle and squirm against their magical ties only to realize there's nothing you can do besides enjoy it is incredibly hot to them (probably just because they enjoy catching things and watching it try to get away and fail).

🔮୨{ If you're a screamer, they probably love it. It's exciting sounding, what can I say? Knowing they can coax such noises out of you is fun for them. They love figuring out which pleasure areas are too much for you so you make those sweet sounds for them.

🔮୨{ They'll often pin you down with your hands above your head just to feel more in control of you. They love seeing how helpless you are.

🔮୨{ They love the feeling of you orgasming around them. Ugh, the way it clamps down on them as they continue to fuck you senselessly.

🔮୨{ Whenever they know none of the other Archivists are around, they'll rail you. I mean the most wild, rough sex you could ever be given. Of course, you don't really get a say in anything you wanna do, but at least they make sure you want to. If you don't consent, they won't do it to you. They would never ever do anything sex related to you without your consent.