Around you, the city is a gray mouth held open by smoke. Night rain slicks the cracked asphalt and turns the gutters into thin rivers of ash. A siren wails somewhere in the distance, then abruptly cuts off like something reached up and pinched it shut.

The building ahead is a squat concrete block dressed up as a humanitarian front. The name on the sign is cheerful, rounded letters meant to reassure, RELIEF SERVICES, while the windows are blacked out and the corners are too sharp to belong to anything honest.

Inside, there are hostages.

Inside, there are armed men with cheap rifles and expensive confidence.

And inside, somewhere in the middle of all that human fear, is the reason SHIELD called in the Avengers in the first place an experimental power core stolen out of a secure lab, humming with the kind of energy that makes the hair on your arms lift and your teeth ache.

You crouch behind the destroyed shell of a car, rain ticking softly on the roof above you. Your vest sits heavy over your chest, the ceramic plate reassuring in a way that feels almost superstitious. Your fingers are steady on your weapon. Your breathing is controlled.

You’ve been trained by the best.

And by her.

Wanda’s team doesn’t move like chaos; they move like a sentence written in sharp ink. Everyone has a place. Everyone has a job. Everyone knows the cost of getting sloppy.

There’s a shift to your right. A trainee, newer, younger, adjusts their grip too fast. Their shoulder jerks. Their eyes flick up and down the building like they’re trying to count threats by staring harder at them.

You catch it, because you always catch it. You do what you’ve been taught to do: you assess, you predict, you correct.

“Breathe,” you murmur, not into comms, just into the rain. “Slow.”

The trainee swallows and nods too hard.

Wanda’s voice returns, crisp and clean. “Natasha. East entry. Clint, overwatch. Steve, you’re with me on the front breach. Y/n--”

Your throat tightens a fraction. That pause before she says your name always does something to you, even when it shouldn’t.

“--you’re with the hostages,” Wanda finishes. “You prioritize them. You do not chase targets. You do not improvise.”

It’s direct. Commanding. Exact.

And underneath it, if you know her the way you do, there’s a second layer of meaning.

You come back.

You come back.

You come back.

Your lips part around a breath you don’t realize you’ve been holding. “Copy. Hostages first.”

“Good girl,” Wanda says, so quietly you almost miss it under the rain and the comms hiss. The words hit the inside of your ribs like a thumb pressed to a bruise--firm, intimate, grounding.

Across the street, Steve gives a hand signal and the front line shifts. Natasha slides like a shadow along the east wall, so smooth she might as well be the night itself. Clint is already a silhouette somewhere high above, bow drawn, watching.

Yelena’s voice crackles into comms like she’s leaning too close to the mic. “I am in position. And if any of you die, I will be very annoyed.”

“Comforting,” Natasha replies without missing a beat.

“It is my love language,” Yelena says, and you hear the grin in her voice.

You almost smile. Almost. You don’t let yourself.

Wanda doesn’t banter. Not before a breach. Not when civilians are involved. Not when there’s too much that can go wrong.

She is, always, control.

That’s what SHIELD saw in her when they asked her to supervise training rotations. That’s why they paired her with you when you arrived, half-broken and too useful to ignore.

You weren’t born into this world.

You were dropped into it.

One day you were somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t have streetlights, didn’t have coffee, didn’t have the mundane, stupid comforts of Earth. Somewhere the sky was too close and the air tasted metallic and your power felt like a sickness trying to crawl out of your bones.

You survived.

You adapted.

SHIELD found you because something bright and wrong lit up their satellites. They brought you in with a soft voice and a hard hand. They called you an asset and smiled like it was kindness.

Wanda was the first person who didn’t talk to you like you were a weapon.

She talked to you like you were a person holding a weapon, and there is a difference so sharp it still cuts when you think about it.

She corrected your stance with two fingers at your elbow, not a shove.

She watched your breathing when your power spiked, not your hands.

She kept you in training longer than anyone thought necessary, because she refused to throw you into the field until you trusted your own body again.

And when you’d flinched once, once, at a sudden sound and everyone else had looked at you like you’d proven them right about you being unstable, Wanda had stepped closer, gaze steady, and said:

“Again.”

No pity. No fear. Just expectation.

You learned to meet it.

You learned to become someone she could trust.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, somewhere between her hands on your wrists adjusting a grip and her eyes on you during a sparring match like you were the only thing worth watching, something in her shifted.

It wasn’t obvious. Wanda is not obvious.

But you noticed.

Because you notice everything about her.

The way her gaze lingers a fraction too long on your mouth when you talk.

The way she says your name when she’s angry, like it’s a restraint.

The way she is harsher with everyone else, and softer with you in the small places she thinks no one can see.

In the field, she never touches the other trainees unless she has to.

With you, she’s always one step closer than necessary.

Always within reach.

Like she’s afraid the world will steal you if she doesn’t keep a hand on the thread.

“Breach in three,” Steve says on comms.

Wanda inhales.

You hear it.

Even over the line, even through the static, you hear the control in it.

Then: “Two.”

You shift your weight, muscles coiling. Your path is mapped, west hallway, down to the holding room. Wanda’s intel says the hostages are in the back, behind a metal door. Your job is to get to them, shield them, get them out.

“One.”

The front wall explodes inward with controlled force. Not Wanda’s magic, Steve’s charge, clean and brutal. Dust blooms into the rain like a gray flower.

The world lurches.

You move.

Everything becomes sound and motion and training.

You sprint, low, weapon up, eyes scanning. The air inside the building is warmer, stale, smelling of sweat and fear and old concrete. A man shouts in a language you don’t understand. Another one screams.

Gunfire erupts, sharp, fast, echoing off the narrow hallways.

Your heart doesn’t race it works. Steady. Efficient.

You take the west corridor, boots splashing through rainwater tracked in, and you are halfway down when the trainee behind you does exactly what Wanda told them not to do.

They improvise.

They break formation.

They push ahead, eager, trying to be heroic, trying to prove something.

You see it like a slow motion nightmare: their shoulder breaks into the open doorway on the left, their body exposed, their weapon angle wrong.

And from inside the room, a muzzle flashes.

Hostages.

The shooter isn’t aiming at the trainee.

He’s aiming past them.

At a woman crouched behind a table, hands over her head, eyes wide and wet in the dim.

You don’t think.

You don’t hesitate.

You throw yourself into the line.

The impact is a sledgehammer to your chest.

Your vest catches the bullet, your plate does its job, so there’s no clean hole, no neat wound, no immediate red blooming through fabric.

Instead, the force drives into you like a car crash compressed into a single point.

Your ribs feel like they fold.

Your lungs forget how to be lungs.

You hit the floor hard enough that your vision whites out at the edges.

Sound becomes underwater.

You try to inhale and nothing happens.

Your body sucks at air like it’s never done it before, like the motion is unfamiliar, like you’re drowning in dry space.

A wet sound tears from your throat.

Blood spills into your mouth, hot and metallic, and you cough--instinctively, violently

and it sprays out in a dark arc across the concrete.

The smell is immediate.

Iron.

Panic.

You claw at your chest, fingers scrabbling over the vest like you can rip your way back to breathing if you just try hard enough.

The trainee screams your name.

You can’t answer.

Your world tunnels into the savage need for air.

Somewhere above you, Wanda’s voice slices through comms.

“Y/n?”

It’s not command.

It’s fear, sharpened into a single syllable.

You try to speak. You can’t. Blood bubbles at your lips instead.

Your hand lifts, weak, reaching for nothing.

“Y/n,” Wanda says again, and you hear her moving, fast, too fast. The air hums. The building itself seems to vibrate with the sudden flare of red.

Steve says something, your name, an order, but it’s swallowed by the roar in your ears.

Footsteps thunder.

And then Wanda is there.

She drops to her knees so hard the concrete should bruise her. Her hands are on you immediately, everywhere, too many points of contact, like she’s trying to anchor you to the world by force.

Her fingers find your jaw, tilt your face up. Her other hand grabs the front of your vest, yanks at the straps with violent precision.

“Look at me,” she says, breath trembling on the words. Wanda Maximoff’s breath does not tremble. She is the calm in the storm.

Except right now.

Right now her hands shake so slightly you feel it in the way her fingers press into your skin.

You try to open your eyes. Your lashes are wet, rain, tears, blood spray, you don’t know. Everything is blurry. Wanda’s face is a dark shape edged in red light.

You cough again.

Blood pours out, thick and relentless, and you make a horrible, choking sound because it’s blocking everything.

Wanda’s eyes widen, pupils blown.

“No,” she whispers, like she can refuse reality into changing.

Her magic flares, scarlet threads curling around your torso, probing, searching, trying to assess damage the way a medic would, except it’s Wanda so it’s like being touched from the inside.

You feel it catch on something, your ribs, your lungs, and her breath breaks.

“moye serdtse” she murmurs, voice cracking. Something soft and Sokovian, something that sounds like a prayer and a promise at once. “moya lyubov'… stay with me.”

You don’t understand the words, but you understand the tone.

You understand the way her thumbs stroke your cheeks like she’s trying to soothe you while you’re actively dying.

Your chest heaves. Your lungs flutter uselessly, bruised and flooding. The world tilts.

You can’t get enough air.

You can’t.

Your fingers curl into her sleeve like a child’s grip, desperate, begging.

Wanda makes a sound, small, broken, furious. Her gaze flicks once, sharp as a whip, toward the room where the shooter was.

There’s a man with a rifle staring in shock. There are hostages pressed into corners, crying.

And there--standing frozen in the doorway, pale as ash--there’s the trainee.

The one who moved wrong.

The one who made you throw your body into a bullet’s path.

Wanda’s face goes blank.

Not calm.

Blank.

It’s the expression she wears when she’s about to do something that can’t be undone.

Red light crawls up her fingers.

The air thickens.

The trainee whimpers.

“Wanda,” Steve says on comms, firm. “Stay with her. We’ve got--”

Wanda doesn’t answer.

Her gaze locks onto the trainee like a target.

And then Natasha is there too, because Natasha Romanoff misses nothing. She drops beside Wanda, one knee hitting the floor, and her hand clamps around Wanda’s wrist.

Hard.

“Maximoff,” Natasha says, low. “Eyes here.”

Wanda’s jaw flexes. Her nostrils flare. Her magic surges against Natasha’s grip like a living thing trying to lunge.

“You--” Wanda starts, and it’s not even aimed at Natasha. It’s aimed at the universe.

Natasha doesn’t let her finish.

“Later,” she says, like it’s a promise and a warning. “Right now, you keep her alive.”

Wanda’s eyes flick back to you.

The sight of your blood at your mouth, the way your chest won’t rise properly, the panic in your gaze, something in her fractures.

She leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours. Her breath is ragged in your face.

“Breathe,” she says, voice shaking now. “Breathe for me, detka. Please.”

You try.

You cannot.

Your throat makes a horrible wet rasp.

You see it in Wanda’s eyes the moment she realizes the truth:

You aren’t just hurt.

You are going to suffocate.

Your airway is failing.

Your lungs are failing.

You are drowning in yourself.

“Nat,” Wanda whispers, and there is naked terror in it. “She--”

“I know,” Natasha says.

Yelena’s voice crackles through comms, suddenly sharp. “Why is everyone quiet? Who is bleeding? Is it you? If it is you, I will--”

“Shut up,” Natasha snaps, then immediately softens her tone like she remembers you can hear her. “Yelena. Med kit. Now. West corridor. Run.”

“I am running,” Yelena says indignantly, and you hear pounding footsteps in the background and the clink of something metal. “I am always running in this family.”

Wanda’s hands are still on you. She’s already ripping open the front of your vest. The straps tear. The plate shifts. Cold air hits your skin.

Your chest is already blooming with bruising, a dark, ugly spread under your collarbone. Wanda’s fingers trace it as if touching it gently might undo it.

She presses two fingers to your throat, checking.

Her magic pulses, probing deeper.

And then she goes still.

Her eyes flick up, meet Natasha’s.

A silent exchange passes between them, the kind only people who have seen too much can have.

Natasha’s voice is grim. “Airway’s going.”

You want to say something. Anything. You want to tell them you’re here, you’re trying, you’re not ready, your mind throws a thousand words at your tongue and none of them get past the blood.

Wanda cups your face with both hands now like she’s afraid your head will roll away if she lets go.

“Stay with me,” she repeats, and this time it’s not a command. It’s a plea. “Stay, stay, stay…”

Your vision swims.

The edges darken.

You hear comms like a distant radio in another room.

Steve barking orders. Gunfire. Hostages crying. The mission still happening around you while your whole world becomes the brutal, humiliating fact that you can’t breathe.

Wanda’s thumb presses at the corner of your mouth, wiping blood away with a tenderness that feels obscene in a battlefield.

“Please,” she whispers again, and you realize she’s crying, not openly, not dramatically, but there’s a wet shine gathering in her eyes that makes your chest ache even more than the injury.

Yelena skids into the hallway, breathless, and drops to her knees across from you.

She takes one look at your face, at the blood, the panic, the way your lips are starting to tinge wrong, and she loses her usual sharpness for a beat.

“Oh,” she says, very quietly. “Okay. This is bad.”

“Stop narrating,” Natasha mutters.

“I am not narrating. I am observing. There is difference.”

Yelena fumbles the med kit open, hands moving fast but not smooth. She’s excellent at violence. Comfort is… not her natural habitat.

“Hi,” Yelena says to you, and her voice does something awkward, tries to be warm, lands somewhere near blunt. “Do not die. It will upset Wanda and she will then kill everyone and I will have to clean up mess.”

You might laugh if you weren’t drowning.

Wanda glares at her without looking away from you. “Yelena.”

“What? I am soothing,” Yelena insists, offended. “This is soothing where I am from.”

“Not helping,” Natasha says.

Wanda’s magic pulses again, and you feel it coil around your throat. Not choking. Supporting. Trying to keep tissue open, trying to hold a pathway where your body is collapsing.

But magic can’t change blood flooding your airway fast enough.

Natasha’s eyes track your breathing, or lack of it, and her decision is immediate.

“There’s no time,” she says.

You hear the knife before you see it, the soft metallic whisper as she draws it from its sheath.

Your eyes widen.

Wanda’s head snaps up. “Natasha--”

Natasha doesn’t flinch. “Cric,” she says, like a code. “She’s obstructing. She’s going to suffocate.”

“No,” Wanda says, and you don’t know if she’s denying the plan or denying the reality.

Natasha’s gaze is steady. “Wanda. Hold her.”

Wanda’s face twists. Her hands tighten on your jaw like she’s holding you together by force of will. Her magic flares around you, red threads whipping, frantic.

“You are not cutting her,” Wanda hisses, voice low and feral.

Natasha leans closer, voice even lower. “Then watch her die.”

The words hit like a slap.

Wanda’s breath stutters.

Your chest convulses with another useless attempt at air. A wet gurgle tears out of you. Your vision spots.

Wanda makes a sound, raw, torn, and then she nods once, jerky, like it costs her everything.

“Do it,” she whispers.

And then, because Wanda Maximoff cannot help but be Wanda, she leans down and presses her forehead to yours, hands cradling your face so gently it hurts.

“Look at me,” she says, voice trembling like the edge of a breakdown. “Stay with me. I am here. I have you. I have you…”

Her words wrap around you like a blanket and a chain at once.

Natasha positions herself at your throat. Her movements are precise, practiced. She’s done this before. The fact makes something cold slide down your spine.

Your mind screams.

Your body tries to pull away.

But you can’t move. You’re too weak, too panicked, too trapped in the simple animal need for oxygen.

Wanda’s magic presses you down, not cruel, not painful, just… holding. Immobilizing. Protecting you from yourself.

“Detka,” Wanda whispers, and the pet name lands like a kiss on your forehead. “I am so sorry. I am so--”

The knife touches your skin.

Cold.

You choke on a sound that isn’t a word.

Pain flashes, white, brutal, immediate, as Natasha makes the incision. It’s sharp and clean and it tears a cry out of you so raw it doesn’t sound like you.

Wanda’s hands shake around your face. Her eyes are wide, wet, furious at the universe.

“Breathe,” she says, over and over, like a spell. “Breathe, breathe, breathe…”

Natasha works fast. The world is reduced to sensation: the sting at your throat, the pressure, the awful awareness of something opening where nothing should open.

And then air. Not perfect. Not gentle.

But air hits you like a miracle.

You suck it in through the new passage with a harsh, ugly gasp that makes your whole body spasm.

Your eyes roll back for a second.

You come back with a strangled sob.

Wanda’s face crumples.

She lets out a broken breath like she’s been holding her own lungs shut this entire time. Her forehead stays pressed to yours as if she’s terrified you’ll disappear if she lifts it.

“That’s it,” Natasha says, steady. “Good. Good. She’s got air.”

Yelena swears softly in Russian--something that sounds like both relief and rage.

Wanda laughs once, a wet sound that isn’t humor. It’s hysteria brushing the edge of her control.

She kisses your temple--quick, fierce--before she seems to realize what she’s done.

Her eyes flick around.

The trainees nearby stare like they’ve just witnessed something sacred and terrifying.

Because they have.

Wanda Maximoff does not do tenderness in front of them.

She does not show weakness.

She does not kneel.

Except she is kneeling now, covered in your blood, hands cradling your face like you are the only living thing in the world.

Her voice drops, so low it’s almost not comms anymore--it’s just for you.

“My love,” she whispers in Sokovian, words trembling on her tongue. “My heart. Don’t you dare leave me.”

You can’t answer. You can’t speak around the tube and the pain and the shock.

But your hand moves, weak, trembling, and finds her wrist.

Your fingers close around her like a promise.

Wanda’s eyes snap to your hand.

She inhales sharply.

Her magic surges in response, filling the hallway with a low red glow that makes the concrete look like it’s bleeding too.

“Command,” Steve’s voice barks on comms. “We need evac on west--now. Hostages moving. Clint, cover. Natasha--”

“I’m here,” Natasha answers. “We’re stabilizing. She needs a bird.”

“On it,” Clint says. “Clear the roof.”

The mission continues, because it has to.

But Wanda doesn’t move.

Wanda’s world has narrowed to the pulse under your skin and the fact that you are still looking at her.

Still here.

Still breathing.

Even if it’s through a wound.

Yelena leans closer, awkwardly patting your shoulder like she’s trying to remember how humans work.

“You did very good,” she tells you, voice strained. “Very… heroic. Next time, do not be so heroic. It is very inconvenient.”

You manage a small, painful exhale that might be a laugh.

Wanda shoots Yelena a look that could kill.

Then Wanda’s gaze slides past you, past the blood, the shattered hallway, the hostages being guided out by Steve

to the trainee still standing frozen, shaking.

The one who caused this.

Wanda’s face changes again.

Her grief doesn’t vanish.

It weaponizes.

She lifts her head slowly, eyes locking on the trainee like a predator sighting prey.

The trainee flinches backward. “I--I didn’t-- I thought--”

Wanda rises in one smooth motion, still keeping one hand on you as if she refuses to break contact. Her magic coils around her arms in lazy, deadly ribbons.

Everyone in the hallway feels it.

The temperature dips.

Even Natasha’s posture shifts, ready, cautious.

Wanda speaks, and her voice is Supervisor Maximoff again--except now it’s laced with something ancient and cruel.

“You thought,” she repeats softly.

The trainee swallows. “I-- I was trying to help--”

Wanda steps closer.

Red light spills over the trainee’s face, painting them in the color of consequence.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Wanda says, tone calm in a way that makes your stomach turn. “You broke formation. You exposed civilians. You exposed her.”

The trainee’s eyes flick to you, wide, guilty, horrified.

Wanda follows the glance.

Her hand tightens on your shoulder, possessive even in your half-conscious state, like she’s claiming you with touch.

“She is not your lesson,” Wanda says.

The trainee’s lip trembles. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry--”

Wanda’s gaze sharpens. “Sorry does not reverse bruised lungs. Sorry does not refill blood. Sorry does not stop her from drowning.”

The trainee starts to cry.

Wanda doesn’t soften.

Natasha steps between them, voice low. “Wanda. Not now.”

Wanda’s eyes flash. “Move.”

Natasha doesn’t move.

Wanda’s magic flares.

Natasha’s hand goes toward her own weapon, not because she expects to use it on Wanda, because she expects to need it to stop Wanda from doing something irreversible.

And then you make a sound.

A wet, rasping inhale through the tube.

A small, broken noise of pain.

Wanda freezes like the sound has struck her physically.

Her head whips back to you.

Your eyes are open, barely, glassy, unfocused, but they’re on her.

There is fear in them.

Not of the injury.

Of her.

The realization hits Wanda like a punch.

Her jaw clenches. Her breath shudders.

She turns away from the trainee like ripping herself free of a temptation.

“Get them out,” she snaps at Natasha, at Steve, at everyone. “Now.”

Steve doesn’t argue. “Moving.”

The hallway becomes motion again, boots, voices, the shuffle of terrified civilians being guided toward the exit. The sound of rain grows louder as doors open.

Wanda drops back down beside you like gravity pulls her there.

She presses her palm to your sternum, gentle, careful, feeling the horrible instability under your skin. Her magic threads into your chest again, soothing bruised tissue as best as it can, trying to reduce swelling, trying to keep your lungs functioning.

Her eyes never leave your face.

“Stay with me,” she says again, quieter now, stripped down to truth. “Please. Please.”

You want to tell her you’re trying.

You want to tell her she’s scaring you and saving you at the same time.

You want to tell her you’ve never felt so held.

Your hand moves again, trembling, and you touch her cheek.

Your fingers smear blood on her skin.

Wanda closes her eyes for half a second like your touch is the only prayer she believes in.

She leans into your palm, breathing hard.

Then she kisses your fingers.

Right there, in the hallway, surrounded by team and trauma and rain.

A small, instinctive act.

Claiming.

Comforting.

Love slipping out despite her iron discipline.

Natasha watches it, expression unreadable.

Yelena’s brows rise in silent, startled recognition, like she’s seeing the shape of something she suspected but never had confirmed.

And the trainees, your team, stare like they’ve just learned what it means to be hers.

Because Wanda has favorites.

Everyone knows she’s harder on some trainees than others. That she demands more, pushes more, expects more.

But with you it has always been… different.

With the others, she says Again.

With you, she says Breathe.

With the others, she corrects mistakes like they’re technical.

With you, she watches your face like she’s reading your soul.

And now, with you bleeding and broken on the floor, Wanda isn’t a supervisor.

She’s a woman on her knees in the rain, desperate enough to bare her heart in front of everyone.

The evacuation bird whirs overhead before you see it, the deep thump-thump-thump of rotors slicing through wet air.

A rope ladder drops down through an opening in the roof.

Clint’s voice crackles through comms. “Roof is clear. Bring her up.”

Natasha moves first, helping position you carefully. Yelena secures the tube and stabilizes it with rough competence, grumbling under her breath.

Wanda’s hands are everywhere again, supporting your head, your shoulders, your ribs, touching you like she can’t bear not to.

Every movement makes pain flare in your chest. Your body shakes with it, weak, helpless.

Wanda’s face tightens.

“I’ve got you,” she says, and this time the words sound like a vow. “I have you.”

You cling to her sleeve again as they lift you, because you don’t know what else to do.

Because your body knows her.

The ladder is a blur of motion and rain and dizziness. Your vision smears. Your stomach lurches. The night air is cold, sharp, and it burns your new airway with each harsh inhale.

Wanda climbs beside you, one hand on you the whole way, magic subtly supporting your weight like invisible hands holding you up.

On the roof, the world opens into rain and rotor wind.

The quinjet door yawns like a mouth.

Inside, medics rush forward.

Wanda doesn’t let them take you immediately.

She stiffens the moment a gloved hand reaches for you.

“Wanda,” Natasha says sharply, right in her ear.

Wanda’s head snaps to her.

Natasha’s gaze is fierce. “Let them work.”

Wanda’s throat bobs.

She looks down at you, your blood on her hands, your eyes half-open, your breathing harsh and mechanical.

She looks like she might refuse.

Then you blink, slow, exhausted.

And your fingers twitch, still holding her.

Wanda exhales shakily.

“Okay,” she whispers, voice breaking. “Okay.”

She lets the medics move in, but she follows like a shadow, hovering so close she might as well be part of you.

They lay you on a stretcher. Straps tighten. A monitor beeps, fast and angry.

Your body shakes with cold and shock.

Wanda’s magic wraps around you like warmth, subtle enough that no one calls it out, but strong enough that you stop shivering quite so violently.

A medic peers at your throat, grim. “We need to get her to the Tower. Now.”

Clint’s voice crackles. “We’re wheels up.”

You feel the quinjet lift. Your stomach drops.

Wanda’s hand finds yours again and this time she laces your fingers together like she’s claiming you, holding you, keeping you tethered.

Her glove is wet with rain and blood.

Her grip is firm enough to hurt.

She doesn’t seem to notice.

She leans down close to your ear, voice low, trembling.

“You did not have permission,” she whispers, and there’s something sharp and possessive in it that makes your exhausted mind snag. “Do you understand me? You do not get to throw yourself in front of bullets. You do not get to leave me.”

Your eyes flutter.

You try to swallow. It hurts. Everything hurts.

Wanda’s thumb strokes your knuckles like she’s soothing a wild animal.

“I know,” she says, as if answering something you didn’t say. “I know you did it for them. I know you would do it again.”

Her breath catches.

“But you come back to me.”

The words are softer now.

Not command.

Need.

Her forehead lowers until it rests against your temple, careful of the tube.

For a moment, the quinjet noise fades behind the sheer intensity of her presence.

The smell of her, rain, smoke, something faintly sweet and human cuts through the blood taste.

You feel tears burn in your eyes, sudden and useless.

Wanda presses a kiss to your hairline.

Then another.

Then she whispers something in Sokovian, rapid and intimate--words you don’t understand but feel in your bones anyway.

A promise.

A prayer.

A threat to the universe itself.

Natasha watches from across the bay, arms crossed, expression hard.

But her eyes flick to Wanda’s face, just once, and there’s something like sympathy there.

Because Natasha knows what it looks like when love becomes a liability in the field.

And she knows Wanda is losing the war against it.

Yelena hovers awkwardly near your stretcher, then leans in as if she’s about to say something kind and immediately regrets it.

“I will… kill the trainee,” she offers instead, quietly.

Wanda’s head lifts.

Her eyes are bright with tears that never fell, full of a rage that is still there, still simmering, waiting.

“Touch them,” Wanda says, voice low as thunder, “and I will stop you.”

Yelena blinks, offended. “I am being helpful.”

“No,” Wanda says, and it’s terrifying because it’s calm. “You are being reckless.”

Yelena’s mouth twists. “Says you.”

Wanda’s gaze doesn’t leave Yelena. “I have reasons.”

Yelena glances at you, then back at Wanda, and her expression shifts into something quieter, something like understanding.

“Ah,” she says softly. “Yes. Reasons.”

Wanda turns back to you, and the whole world narrows again.

Her hand squeezes yours.

Her voice drops into that intimate frequency again, meant only for you.

“I am here,” she says. “You are not alone. You are not allowed to be alone.”

Your vision blurs.

The monitor beeps.

The quinjet hums.

And you float somewhere between pain and relief and the strange, aching fact that Wanda Maximoff is holding your hand like she might never let go again.

You want to tell her you can’t handle how much she cares.

You want to tell her you can.

You want to tell her you’re scared.

All that comes out is a wet, rasping exhale through the tube.

Wanda smiles, small, shaky, broken with relief.

“That’s it,” she whispers. “That’s my girl.”

The words wrap around you like warmth and possession.

Your eyes close.

Not because you’re giving up.

Because for the first time since the bullet hit, your body believes, truly believes, that someone else will fight for your breath when you can’t.

The quinjet lands like a verdict.

The floor shudders under the skids, rotors still hammering the air, and the moment the rear hatch starts to drop, the med bay team is already moving, gloved hands, bright lights, a stretcher rolling forward like it has its own gravity.

You feel it before you see it: the Tower’s sterile cold reaching for you.

Your eyes flutter open at the first blast of white light. The quinjet’s dim interior gives way to the hangar’s harsh fluorescents, and everything becomes too sharp, every sound too close, every vibration too loud.

The stretcher jolts.

Pain spears through your chest, then blooms outward, a deep bruised agony that makes your vision pinch at the edges.

Your hand tightens, instinctively, desperately, around Wanda’s.

She’s there. Still there.

Still refusing to be anything but there.

“I’ve got her,” Wanda says immediately when a medic tries to step in between. Her voice is calm, controlled--so controlled it’s terrifying. “Move.”

“Ma’am,” a doctor says, already walking beside you, fingers checking the tube at your throat, reading your vitals off the portable monitor. “We need clearance. We need space.”

Wanda doesn’t give any.

She walks with the gurney as if she is part of it--one hand anchored to your wrist, the other hovering over your sternum like she can physically hold your lungs together if she tries hard enough.

The hangar doors slide open. Cold air knifes in. The corridor ahead is a tunnel of bright light and polished floors, and the sound of boots on metal becomes the sound of wheels on tile.

They rush you through the Tower like a storm with a purpose.

Your world is fragments.....

ceiling lights streaking overhead

voices calling numbers you don’t understand

gloved hands pulling at straps and fabric

the smell of antiseptic replacing smoke

your own breathing, ugly and mechanical through the new airway

Wanda’s fingers laced with yours like a vow

“BP dropping,” someone says.

“SpO2 is unstable.”

“Possible flail segment, contusion, internal bleed--get imaging now.”

“No,” the lead trauma surgeon snaps, scanning you once and deciding fast. “No time. Straight to OR.”

Wanda’s head whips toward him.

“We stabilize her first,” she says, like she’s used to the world obeying her. Like she’s used to being the final word.

The surgeon doesn’t even look impressed. He looks busy.

“We stabilize her in surgery,” he says. “That tube bought us minutes, not comfort. She needs a chest drain, possible thoracotomy, and we don’t do that in the hallway.”

Wanda’s grip tightens around your hand so hard your fingers ache.

Your gaze drifts to her face--blurred, trembling at the edges--but you see her eyes.

Green, bright, wet. Furious with fear.

The doors ahead are marked SURGICAL WING in big, block letters that look too clean for what they mean.

A nurse steps into Wanda’s path, palms out. “Only surgical staff beyond this point.”

Wanda doesn’t slow.

The nurse’s voice sharpens. “Ma’am.”

Wanda stops so abruptly the gurney nearly bumps her hip.

For half a second the air thickens, and you feel it--Wanda’s power rising like a wave beneath her skin. Scarlet threads gather at her fingertips, the room responding to her emotions the way it always does.

The nurse stiffens.

The surgeon finally looks up, eyes flicking to Wanda’s hands. “Maximoff--”

Wanda’s voice is quiet. “I’m going with her.”

“No,” the surgeon says. “You’re not.”

Wanda’s nostrils flare. Her jaw flexes. The red glow intensifies until the white walls around you seem faintly pink, like the Tower itself is blushing under pressure.

Your breathing rasps. Your vision dims.

Your fingers twitch in Wanda’s grip, weak, pleading.

Not for her to fight.

For her to stay.

Wanda looks down at you.

Your eyes are half-lidded, glassy. Your lips are wrong-colored. Your chest rises unevenly under the torn vest and torn fabric, every breath a battle your body is losing more than winning.

And Wanda...Wanda can tear reality open, can bend minds and space, can rewrite the world into what she needs

but she cannot brute-force a surgical wing into letting her love you back to health.

Not without consequences.

Her expression fractures.

“Detka,” she whispers, the word spilling out like she didn’t mean to say it where anyone could hear. Her thumb strokes your knuckles, frantic-soft. “Look at me. Look at me.”

You try.

You barely manage it.

Wanda leans closer, mouth near your ear, voice trembling so quietly the doctors don’t hear the words, only the shape of them.

“Do not leave,” she says, and the plea is stripped bare. “Please.”

A tear finally escapes her lash line. It trails down her cheek, hot against the cold air.

Then her gaze flicks up, hardening, locking back into something like command.

She squeezes your hand once. Firm. Grounding.

“Stay,” she repeats, softer now. “I will be right here when you wake.”

It’s a promise, and something in her eyes dares the universe to break it.

The nurse steps forward again, gentler this time, like she recognizes the edge Wanda is standing on. “Ma’am. You can’t--”

Wanda’s fingers loosen around yours.

Not because she wants to.

Because she has to.

The separation is immediate and brutal.

Your hand falls back against the stretcher. The air where Wanda’s warmth was feels suddenly empty, too cold, too wide.

Your eyes flutter.

Panic spikes, sharp and animal.

Wanda reaches for you again on instinct

Natasha’s hand appears on Wanda’s forearm.

Not grabbing. Not restraining.

Anchoring.

“Wanda,” Natasha says, low. “Let them work.”

Wanda doesn’t look at Natasha.

Her eyes stay on you as the gurney rolls forward, wheels squeaking softly. The surgical doors swing open like a mouth.

You disappear through them.

And for a heartbeat--just one--Wanda looks like someone has ripped out her lungs and left her standing upright anyway.

The doors close.

The corridor falls into a sterile, horrible quiet.

Wanda stands there, hands still half-raised like she expects you to reappear any second.

Her palms are smeared with your blood.

Her clothes are damp with rain and battle.

Her breathing is ragged.

And then, with a slow turn of her head, she looks down the hall.

The trainee is there.

Hovering at the edge of the corridor like a child waiting outside a principal’s office. Eyes red. Face pale. Hands shaking.

The sight of them is a match struck in a room full of gas.

Wanda’s face goes blank again.

Natasha feels it--because Natasha always does--and her posture shifts subtly. Ready.

“Don’t,” Natasha says, calm. Warning.

Wanda’s voice is ice. “Where is Director Hill.”

Natasha blinks once. “On a secure floor. Why.”

Wanda turns fully, cloak of control snapping back over her like armor.

“Emergency leadership meeting,” she says, and the Tower seems to listen. “Now.”

A nearby agent hesitates. “Commander Maximoff, we--”

Wanda’s gaze flicks to him.

The agent’s mouth shuts.

Her voice remains quiet. “Notify Fury. Hill. Medical chief. Training oversight. Bring the trainee.”

The trainee flinches like they’ve been slapped. “Wanda, I--”

Wanda takes one step toward them.

One.

They stumble backward.

Natasha moves with her, matching her pace, voice low. “Wanda. She’s in surgery. This can wait.”

Wanda’s eyes flash--bright, feverish with fear and rage. “No.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens. “This is you trying to control something you can’t.”

Wanda’s lips peel back in something that isn’t a smile. “Yes.”

Then she turns and starts walking, fast and purposeful, boots striking tile like a countdown.

Natasha follows. Yelena appears around the corner, still in tactical gear, brows lifted.

“What is happening?” Yelena asks.

Wanda doesn’t slow. “Meeting.”

Yelena’s eyes widen a fraction. “Ah. Someone is in trouble.”

Natasha shoots her a look. “Not the time.”

“It is always time,” Yelena murmurs, then falls into step anyway, because whatever this is--whatever Wanda is about to do--you don’t leave a hurricane unattended.

They move through the Tower’s arteries--security doors opening at the sight of Wanda’s face, agents stepping aside with rigid respect, conversations dying mid-sentence as she passes.

The whole building feels it.

The Scarlet Witch walking with purpose.

Not floating. Not dramatic.

Just… inevitable.

They reach a conference room on an upper level--one of the ugly, functional ones with reinforced walls and a table too large for comfort. A screen on one end displays mission telemetry still live. A thin smell of coffee lingers from whoever was here before they got summoned.

Director Hill is already inside when Wanda arrives, tablet in hand, expression tight. Fury appears a moment later, coat open, eye sharp.

Two training supervisors, a medical chief, and a security lead file in behind them.

Everyone takes in Wanda at once.

The blood on her hands.

The rain in her hair.

The look in her eyes.

Hill’s voice is careful. “Maximoff--what happened.”

Wanda doesn’t sit.

She stands at the head of the table like it’s her throne and the world has forgotten that fact.

“She is in surgery,” Wanda says, and the words are flat, like she’s saying the sky is blue, except everyone in the room feels the weight of it.

Fury’s jaw tightens. “Status.”

Wanda’s fingers curl against the tabletop.

Her nails are short. Controlled.

But the wood beneath her palm creaks faintly.

“Blunt-force thoracic trauma,” Wanda says, voice precise. Clinical. Like she’s reciting a report. “Pulmonary contusion. Internal bleeding. Airway compromise.”

The medical chief nods grimly. “We’re doing everything we can. She’s in the best hands.”

Wanda’s eyes snap to him. “She should not be in surgery.”

No one speaks.

Hill’s gaze flicks toward the trainee--who was brought in by an agent and is now standing near the door like they wish they could dissolve into the wall.

Hill’s voice is sharp now. “Was this a training failure.”

Wanda turns her head slowly.

Looks at the trainee.

The room goes colder.

“It was disobedience,” Wanda says. “It was ego. It was stupidity wearing a uniform.”

The trainee’s voice breaks. “I didn’t mean--”

Wanda’s hand lifts.

Not pointing. Not waving.

Just lifting.

The trainee’s mouth clamps shut like an invisible fist closed around their throat.

Yelena makes a small interested sound. Natasha’s posture tightens.

Fury’s voice cuts in, calm but edged. “Maximoff.”

Wanda’s gaze doesn’t move. “Do you know what I told them before the breach?”

The trainee’s eyes glisten with tears. Their hands shake harder.

Wanda answers her own question. “I told them not to improvise. I told them to maintain formation. I told them their job was support, not heroics.”

Her voice rises--not louder, but sharper. Each word a blade placed carefully on the table.

“They disobeyed. They stepped into an open doorway, exposed civilians, and forced her-” Wanda’s breath catches on the pronoun like it cuts her throat. “--forced Y/n to take the line.”

Hill’s expression hardens. “Is that accurate.”

The trainee nods frantically, tears slipping down their face. “Yes--yes, ma’am. I-- I panicked. I thought I could--”

Wanda’s hand tightens on the table.

The lights flicker.

A pen on the far end rolls, then lifts an inch off the surface like the room itself is recoiling.

“You thought you could,” Wanda repeats, and her voice---God, her voice is so calm it becomes the most frightening thing in the room.

Natasha steps closer, low in Wanda’s ear. “Wanda. Don’t.”

Wanda turns, just enough that Natasha can see her face.

And it’s not rage alone.

It’s terror. It’s grief. It’s love with nowhere safe to go.

Wanda looks back at Hill and Fury.

“You put her on my team,” Wanda says. “You assigned her to my supervision because you knew she was different. You knew she was… vulnerable.”

Fury’s eye narrows. “Don’t do this, Maximoff.”

Wanda’s lips part in a humorless exhale. “Do what. Tell you the truth?”

Hill’s expression is brittle. “Wanda--”

Wanda cuts her off.

“No,” Wanda says, voice finally cracking with heat. “No. You will listen.”

The room stills.

Even Fury doesn’t interrupt.

Wanda steps away from the table and paces once--one tight loop like a caged animal trying to find the seam in the walls.

“She came to us from somewhere none of you can pronounce,” Wanda says, voice low and venomous. “She learned our language. Our procedures. Our rules. She put her fear in a box and labeled it ‘handle later’ because that is what you asked of her.”

Her throat works.

Her hands tremble for half a second.

She curls them into fists to hide it.

“And today,” Wanda continues, eyes bright, “she bled out on a concrete floor because someone decided protocol was optional.”

The trainee makes a small broken sound.

Wanda whips around. “Do you know what it sounded like.”

Silence.

Wanda takes a step toward the trainee.

The air vibrates.

Natasha moves with her, ready to intervene if Wanda goes too far.

Wanda’s voice drops to a whisper that carries anyway.

“Do you know what it sounded like when she couldn’t breathe.”

The trainee sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I swear--”

Wanda’s magic pulses out involuntarily, scarlet pressure that makes the trainee’s knees buckle.

They drop to the floor with a choked gasp, palms braced on the tile.

“Wanda,” Hill says sharply, taking a step forward.

Fury’s voice is iron. “Enough.”

Wanda’s head snaps toward them.

Her eyes are wild now.

“Enough?” she repeats, incredulous. “Enough is what you say when someone breaks a vase.”

She points at the trainee--one sharp motion.

“This,” Wanda says, voice shaking now with restrained fury, “is what you say when someone breaks a person.”

The lights flicker again. The screen behind Hill glitches for a second.

Yelena mutters, almost reverent, “Oh, this is good.”

Natasha shoots her a look that could cauterize steel.

Wanda inhales.

Her chest rises, falls.

She forces herself back into control like it’s a physical act.

Then she speaks again, colder.

“This trainee is removed from field operations effective immediately,” Wanda says. “They will not touch a weapon on a mission for the next six months. They will be reassigned to support and simulation only. They will retrain from day one under direct observation.”

Hill opens her mouth

Wanda cuts her off again, eyes flashing. “And they will apologize. To her. When she wakes up.”

Fury’s tone is clipped. “You don’t get to dictate punishment.”

Wanda’s smile is sharp. “Then you do it. Right now. Tell me what consequence exists in this building that equals the sound of her choking on blood.”

No one answers.

Because there isn’t one.

The medical chief clears his throat carefully. “Commander… the surgical team will update us soon. This--this meeting--”

Wanda’s head snaps toward him. “I called you because I want you to understand something.”

She steps closer to the table again, palms flattening against it, leaning forward like she’s about to bite the world.

“If she dies,” Wanda says, and her voice goes so quiet it chills the room, “you will not have a Scarlet Witch problem.”

Everyone stills.

Fury’s eye narrows to a lethal slit. “Maximoff.”

Wanda’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“You will have a Wanda Maximoff problem,” she corrects softly. “And I will not be reasonable.”

Natasha’s hand clamps onto Wanda’s shoulder--hard. Grounding. A warning only Wanda can feel.

“Wanda,” Natasha says, low. “Don’t say things you can’t take back.”

Wanda blinks once.

A tear slips down her cheek.

She doesn’t wipe it away.

“I don’t care,” Wanda whispers, voice breaking at the edges. “I don’t care about reasonable.”

Her eyes flick toward the closed door behind which your body is currently being cut open to keep you alive.

Her breath trembles again, and this time she doesn’t hide it.

“I told her to come back,” Wanda says, and the words are almost childlike in their rawness. “I promised her.”

The room shifts. Even Hill’s face softens for a fraction.

Fury’s expression stays hard, but his voice lowers. “Maximoff. Go to the waiting area. Let the doctors work.”

Wanda’s gaze snaps back, sharp. “No. I’m not leaving this floor.”

Hill exhales. “Wanda--”

Wanda turns, eyes cutting to the trainee one last time.

The trainee is still on the floor, shaking, tears dripping onto tile. Terrified. Guilty. Ruined.

Wanda’s voice is lethal calm.

“You will remember this for the rest of your life,” she says. “Because if she wakes up and asks me why she got hurt, I will tell her the truth.”

The trainee sobs harder.

Wanda looks back at leadership, and all softness drains from her face again.

“I am going to the surgical wing doors,” Wanda says. “I will wait where I can see her come back out.”

Fury’s jaw tightens. “That’s not how this works.”

Wanda’s eyes flash. “Watch me.”

And she turns on her heel.

Natasha follows immediately--because Natasha knows you don’t let Wanda Maximoff walk through a hallway like that alone. Yelena trails behind, strangely quiet now.

As Wanda strides out, the meeting room remains frozen for a beat.

Hill looks at Fury. “She’s in love with her.”

Fury’s expression doesn’t change. “I know.”

Hill’s voice is tight. “That’s a problem.”

Fury’s eye flicks toward the door Wanda left through, then toward the surgical wing down the hall as if he can see it through walls.

His voice is low.

“So is losing the girl.”

Wanda reaches the surgical doors and stops so abruptly it’s like she hits an invisible wall.

The corridor here is quieter. Cleaner. The air smells like antiseptic and cold metal.

A sign reads AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Wanda stands under it like a threat.

Her hands are still stained red.

Her breathing is too shallow.

Natasha stops beside her. Doesn’t speak. Just stands.

Yelena leans against the wall and folds her arms, eyes on Wanda like she’s watching a bomb and trying to guess when it will go off.

Minutes pass like hours.

Then the surgical doors swing open

and Wanda’s entire body snaps tight like a bowstring pulled to breaking.

A doctor steps out, mask lowered, eyes tired.

Wanda’s voice is barely a whisper.

“How is she.”

The doctor looks at her hands, at her face, at the blood, and seems to decide honesty is safer than soothing.

“She’s alive,” he says. “But it’s critical. We’re still working.”

Wanda’s knees almost buckle.

Natasha’s hand catches her elbow, subtle, quick, before she can fall.

Wanda doesn’t thank her.

She just stares at the doors like she could will them open.

Like she could climb inside and hold your lungs in place with her bare hands.

Her voice breaks, raw and quiet.

“Tell her,” Wanda whispers, eyes shining. “Tell her I’m here.”

The doctor nods once--because even if he doesn’t know how to handle gods and witches, he knows love when it’s bleeding in front of him.

“I will,” he says, and disappears back inside.

The doors swing shut again.

Wanda stands there, unmoving.

Waiting.

Breathing only because you are.

The minutes don’t pass like minutes.

They pass like punishment, each one stretched thin, each one sharp at the edges.

Wanda doesn’t sit.

Natasha tries once, quietly, to guide her toward the chairs in the corner of the corridor. Wanda doesn’t even look at them. It’s like the concept of resting has been deleted from her body.

She stands in front of the surgical doors the way she stood in front of you on the battlefield--like if she holds her ground hard enough, nothing gets through.

Not death.

Not bad news.

Not the universe.

The fluorescent lights hum overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a cart rattles and then fades away. An intercom chirps and a voice calls a code you don’t understand.

Wanda understands nothing but the absence of you.

Her hands are still stained. Someone tried to offer wipes. She ignored them.

She keeps flexing her fingers like she can still feel your pulse in her palm.

Natasha leans on the wall beside her, arms crossed, eyes forward. The picture of calm--except every few minutes her gaze flicks to Wanda like she’s taking silent measurements: how close to the edge, how close to breaking, how close to burning the world down.

Yelena paces once, then stops, then paces again. Finally she mutters, “This is stupid. Humans are too fragile.”

Natasha doesn’t answer.

Wanda doesn’t move.

A nurse appears once, glances at Wanda’s face, and decides to walk the other way.

Time keeps dragging its nails down the corridor.

Wanda’s throat works around air that feels too thin. She stares at the surgical doors so hard it starts to feel like she’s trying to peel them open with her mind--not to invade, not to interfere, but to see you.

To confirm you’re real.

To confirm you didn’t evaporate into a nightmare the moment they took you away.

Her lips part on a whisper that is barely sound.

“Please.”

Natasha hears it anyway. Natasha always does.

“You did what you could,” Natasha says quietly.

Wanda’s eyes flick to her--bright, feverish. “I did not.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens. “Wanda--”

“I should have been faster.” Wanda’s voice is flat, merciless. “I should have seen it before it happened.”

“You can’t predict every idiot move a trainee makes,” Natasha says, controlled.

Wanda’s expression twists--pain, rage, grief, all braided together. “I can. I should. That is my job.”

Natasha exhales through her nose. “Your job is not to carry every loss like it’s your fault.”

Wanda’s gaze cuts back to the doors. “It’s not a loss,” she says, like the word itself is poison. “Not yet.”

Another stretch of silence.

Then, soft footsteps.

A shift of air.

The surgical doors swing open.

Wanda’s body reacts before her mind does. Her shoulders lift like she’s bracing for impact. Her hands curl into fists. The red in her veins rises, instinctive--protective, vicious, ready.

A surgeon steps out.

Mask lowered. Face drawn with fatigue. A smear of something dark on his sleeve.

Wanda’s voice comes out wrong--too quiet, too raw.

“Tell me.”

The surgeon looks at her like he understands he’s holding a match over gasoline. He chooses his words carefully.

“She’s alive,” he says.

Wanda’s breath leaves her in a sound that is almost a sob, almost a laugh, almost a collapse.

Natasha’s hand clamps on Wanda’s arm, steadying her without comment.

The surgeon continues, tone clinical, because that’s what he has to do to stay upright in a world where people break.

“Vest did its job. But the blunt force--she took significant thoracic trauma. Multiple rib fractures, severe pulmonary contusion. We placed a chest tube and stabilized internal bleeding. The airway incision bought us the time we needed.”

Wanda listens like a statue.

Like if she moves, the words will change.

“She’s sedated,” the surgeon says. “She’ll be in the ICU. We’re keeping her on oxygen support. She’s going to be in pain when she wakes up.”

Wanda swallows. Her eyes are wet, but her expression is fierce. “Can I see her.”

The surgeon hesitates--because they always hesitate with Wanda. Because she’s power wrapped in human skin, and people are never sure where the line is.

“Briefly,” he says. “One at a time. No touching the airway site. Keep it calm.”

Wanda nods once. Sharp. Immediate. Like she’ll obey any rule on earth if it gets her to you.

The surgeon steps aside.

The doors open wider.

And Wanda moves.

Not fast.

Not like the battlefield.

She walks like someone approaching a chapel, like the air itself might shatter if she breathes too hard.

Natasha follows a step behind, then stops at the threshold when a nurse lifts a hand.

“Only one,” the nurse says gently, and her eyes flick to Wanda with something like reverence and caution.

Natasha pauses, then nods once. “I’ll be right here.”

Wanda doesn’t look back.

She steps through.

The ICU is dimmer than the hallway, blessedly so. The lights are low, the air cool, the sound softened, machines humming and beeping in steady patterns, like the room itself is designed to keep panic from taking root.

You’re there.

In the bed.

Too still.

Your skin looks too pale against the sheets. Your hair is damp and tangled, a trace of dried blood near your mouth that someone tried to clean. Your chest rises and falls, shallow, assisted, stubborn.

There’s tape at your throat where the incision was. Tubing, oxygen, monitors.

A chest drain line curves from your side under the blanket.

Your hands are resting near your hips, palms slightly curled like you fell asleep mid-reach.

Wanda stops at the foot of the bed.

For a second she doesn’t move.

Like she can’t trust her legs to carry her closer.

Then she takes one slow step.

Another.

Her breathing catches on the sound of the monitor.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Life, reduced to electricity and rhythm.

She comes to your bedside and just… stands there, staring, eyes dragging over every bandage and tube like she’s memorizing them, like she’s counting proof that you made it through something that should’ve taken you.

Her hands hover in the air, unsure where to go. Wanda Maximoff--who can grab the fabric of reality and pull--looks helpless for the first time in a way that is almost unbearable to witness.

Her lower lip trembles.

She clamps her jaw to stop it.

A soft sound escapes her anyway, a broken little exhale.

“Oh, detka…”

She reaches out--slow, careful, obeying the rules like they’re sacred--and cups your cheek with the backs of her fingers, barely there.

Not touching the tape. Not tugging anything. Just… reminding herself you’re warm.

Your skin is warm.

You’re warm.

Wanda’s eyes close for half a second, and when they open there’s a shine in them that isn’t just tears.

It’s relief so violent it looks like pain.

She leans down until her forehead rests against the edge of the mattress near your shoulder, careful, controlled.

Her voice drops to a whisper meant only for you.

“You scared me,” she says, and it’s not an accusation. It’s a confession. “You scared me so badly I couldn’t think.”

Her fingers tremble against your cheek. She presses a kiss there, gentle, almost nothing. A brush of lips like a vow sealed in secret.

Then another, to your temple.

She swallows hard.

“You did everything right,” she whispers, like she needs you to hear it even through sedation. “You did what I trained you to do. You protected them.”

Her breath hitches.

“And I am so…” Her voice cracks. She inhales, tries again. “I am so proud of you.”

A tear slips down and drops silently onto the blanket.

Wanda doesn’t wipe it away.

She straightens slowly, gaze sweeping your face again, and her expression shifts, softness giving way to something possessive and resolute, the same steel that kept her on her knees beside you in the hallway.

She leans closer, mouth near your ear.

“Listen to me,” she whispers, voice trembling with the weight of command and love tangled together. “You come back. You heal. You wake up and you look at me, and you let me--”

Her throat works.

She exhales shakily.

“--you let me take care of you.”

Wanda’s hand slides down to your fingers. She doesn’t lace them. She doesn’t squeeze too hard.

She just places her fingertips against yours, like she’s afraid too much pressure will shatter the moment.

“You are not leaving,” she says, voice low and certain like she’s speaking it into existence. “Not on my watch.”

The monitor keeps its steady rhythm.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

And Wanda stands there, breathing with you, eyes locked on your face as if she can will you awake through sheer devotion.

Outside the glass, you can faintly make out a dark shape, Natasha, waiting exactly where she promised, arms crossed, silent guard at the door.

Wanda doesn’t look away from you.

Not even once.

Because you’re here.

Because you made it.

Because for the first time since the bullet hit, the world feels like it’s stopped trying to steal you, and Wanda Maximoff, your supervisor, your shield, your secret, finally allows herself one fragile, trembling moment of peace.

Her whisper brushes your skin like a spell.

“I have you,” she says. “I have you.”

And she stays.

Right there.

You tried distracting yourself at first. You scrolled mindlessly through your phone for nearly twenty minutes while laying across her mattress, legs kicking lazily behind you while your mind wandered in dangerous directions.

Every little thing kept dragging your thoughts back to Sevika somehow, from the deep imprint she’d left in the mattress to the memory of her rough laugh earlier that evening while her hand rested heavy against your lower back.

You kept thinking about her hands especially, the contrast between rough flesh and cold metal constantly replaying in your head until your thighs started pressing together unconsciously.

By the time you finally tossed your phone aside with a frustrated sigh, your body already felt warm and restless in a way that made it impossible to ignore yourself any longer.

It started innocently enough. Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts almost absentmindedly while you stared up at the ceiling trying not to think too hard about what you were doing. Your fingertips brushed lightly over your clothed pussy first, slow tentative touches that sent tiny sparks of heat through your stomach immediately.

A shaky breath left your mouth the second you felt how damp your panties already were, embarrassment mixing instantly with arousal hard enough to make your face burn. You closed your eyes tightly for a second because realizing how wet you’d gotten from nothing but thoughts of Sevika felt humiliating in the hottest possible way.

“Fuck,” you whispered quietly to yourself while your hips shifted against the mattress. Even your own voice sounded breathless already, softer than usual in the dark silence of Sevika’s bedroom. Your fingers rubbed slowly over your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, teasing just enough pressure to make your thighs tremble slightly around your hand.

Every little movement dragged more slick between your folds until the fabric felt soaked against your skin, sticking uncomfortably every time your hips rolled upward searching for friction. The shame of it only made you wetter because somewhere deep down you knew Sevika would probably love seeing you like this.

You finally pushed your shorts and panties down your thighs with trembling fingers after another few desperate minutes of teasing yourself through the fabric. Cool air brushed against your soaked pussy immediately, making you gasp softly while your legs spread wider across Sevika’s sheets without thinking about it.

Slick glistened visibly between your thighs already, wetness clinging to your folds and smearing against your fingertips the second you touched yourself properly.

Your clit ached embarrassingly hard beneath your fingers from how worked up you already were, swollen and sensitive after spending nearly an hour torturing yourself with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t have been having about your friend.

The sight alone nearly made your stomach twist because you looked absolutely ruined already and Sevika hadn’t even touched you.

And god, the thoughts themselves were filthy. You kept imagining Sevika catching you exactly like this, spread open on her bed with your fingers buried between your thighs while her name sat heavy on your tongue.

You imagined the slow way her eyes would drag over your body first, taking in every detail before she said something cruelly amused in that rough low voice of hers. You imagined her grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head while she looked down at your dripping pussy like she’d finally figured you out completely.

Worst of all, you imagined the way Sevika would touch you afterward, rough hands spreading your thighs apart while she mocked how desperate you’d gotten for her.

The fantasy alone made your pussy clench hard around nothing. A broken moan slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it while your fingers slid lower through slick folds, gathering wetness before circling back up toward your clit again. Wet sounds filled the room softly every time your fingers moved against yourself, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.

Your hips rocked upward automatically into your own touch, chasing friction desperately while your free hand tangled into Sevika’s sheets beside your head. Everything felt too hot suddenly, your skin flushed and sticky while arousal curled tighter and tighter low in your stomach.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Sevika’s mouth either. You imagined her broad shoulders settling between your thighs while her metal hand forced your legs wider apart against the mattress. You imagined the rough scrape of her stubble against your inner thighs while she kissed higher and higher until she finally reached your soaked pussy.

You imagined her groaning against you after the first taste, dark eyes flicking upward toward your face while her tongue dragged slowly through your folds. The mental image hit so hard your fingers stuttered against your clit while a needy little whine escaped your throat embarrassingly loud.

“Sevika…” Her name fell from your lips like a confession more than anything else. Your voice sounded wrecked already, breathless and soft while your thighs shook harder around your hand. The sound of her name filling her bedroom only made everything worse because it suddenly felt too real, too intimate, too obvious what you wanted from her.

Your fingers sped up instinctively afterward, rubbing messy circles over your swollen clit while slick coated your hand and the inside of your thighs completely. You were close already, dangerously close, and the realization made panic and excitement twist together painfully in your chest.

You didn’t hear the apartment door unlock over the sound of your own breathing. You didn’t hear Sevika’s heavy boots crossing the apartment floor while you writhed across her sheets completely lost in yourself. You didn’t hear the bedroom door creak open slowly because another moan had just left your mouth while your hips bucked harder into your hand. The only thing you noticed was the sudden rough voice cutting clean through the room like a knife. “Don’t stop.”

Every muscle in your body locked instantly. Your hand froze between your thighs while your eyes snapped toward the doorway so fast it almost hurt. Sevika stood there with one shoulder leaned casually against the frame, massive body taking up most of the space while her sharp eyes stayed locked directly between your spread legs.

Rain still dampened parts of her shirt and dark hair from outside, making her somehow look even rougher than usual beneath the dim apartment lighting. The expression on her face wasn’t anger like you expected either, which honestly might’ve been worse because she looked far too interested.

Heat flooded your entire body so violently it almost made you dizzy. You scrambled upright immediately, trying desperately to yank your shorts back over your thighs while your pulse slammed wildly against your ribs hard enough to hurt. “Shit— Sevika, I didn’t hear you come back,” you blurted out quickly, voice thin with panic and embarrassment.

Your pussy throbbed painfully from the sudden adrenaline rush, slick still coating your fingers while Sevika watched every frantic movement you made without looking away once. The silence stretched just long enough to make humiliation creep higher and higher up your throat.

Then Sevika clicked her tongue softly. “Nah,” she said lowly while pushing herself off the doorway. The single word came out calm and rough enough to send another pulse of heat straight between your legs despite everything. Her eyes dropped slowly down your body again, lingering shamelessly on the wetness between your thighs before flicking back toward your face. “Don’t cover up now,” she added quietly, voice almost amused in a way that made your stomach twist harder.

Your hands stopped moving completely after that. They just hovered uselessly near the waistband of your shorts while Sevika stepped fully into the room and shut the bedroom door behind her with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than anything else had all night.

The noise sent a fresh wave of panic curling through your chest because the closed door suddenly made everything feel impossibly intimate, impossibly real.

Sevika stayed near the foot of the bed for a moment without speaking, broad shoulders relaxed while her eyes kept dragging slowly over your body like she was taking her time memorizing every detail. You felt exposed beneath that stare in a way that made your pussy ache harder instead of less, which honestly only humiliated you further.

“You were thinking about me,” Sevika said eventually, her voice low and rough enough to make your thighs twitch again. It wasn’t phrased like a question because she already knew the answer from the look on your face alone.

Your mouth opened slightly like you wanted to deny it, but nothing actually came out because there was no believable lie left anymore. Not when your fingers were still wet. Not when your legs were still spread across her sheets.

Not when she’d very obviously heard her own name falling from your mouth before she walked in. Sevika noticed the way your face burned hotter immediately, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward in something dangerously close to a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered quietly after a few painful seconds of silence, even though the apology sounded weak and breathless the second it left your mouth.

Your fingers tightened slightly in the sheets beneath you while you avoided looking directly at her, too embarrassed to handle the intensity in Sevika’s eyes right now. “I know I shouldn’t’ve—” you started again, but Sevika cut you off before you could finish the sentence properly.

“Shouldn’t’ve been spread open on my bed touching your pussy while thinking about me?” she asked casually, each filthy word landing directly in your stomach like a physical weight.

The bluntness of it stole the air from your lungs instantly because hearing Sevika say it out loud somehow made everything ten times dirtier.

A shaky breath slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. Your pussy clenched visibly around nothing again at the sound of Sevika’s voice turning rough around words like pussy and spread open, which only made embarrassment burn hotter beneath your skin.

Sevika noticed immediately too because her eyes flicked downward between your thighs with sharp focus before dragging slowly back up toward your face again. “Fuck,” she murmured under her breath while watching you squirm against the mattress.

The sound wasn’t mocking this time either, which honestly made your heartbeat speed up even harder. There was actual hunger in her voice now, low and restrained and dangerous enough to make your stomach flip violently.

Sevika moved closer to the bed again after another long second of silence stretched between you both. Her heavy boots thudded softly against the floor while your pulse pounded harder with every step she took toward you.

The mattress dipped slightly beneath one of her knees when she leaned onto the bed, metal arm braced beside your thigh while she looked down at you from painfully close range now.

The size difference suddenly felt unfair in a way that made your entire body flush hotter beneath her stare, especially with Sevika towering over you while you sat there flushed and wet and half naked in her sheets.

“Look at you,” she said quietly, voice roughening further while her eyes dragged between your trembling thighs again. “Got yourself this worked up all on your own.”

You swallowed hard enough for Sevika to notice. Her gaze flicked toward your throat briefly before settling back onto your face again, dark eyes steady enough to make your skin feel hot everywhere they landed. “Sevika…” you started weakly, though you weren’t even fully sure what you were trying to say anymore.

Maybe you wanted her to stop. Maybe you wanted her closer. Maybe you wanted both badly enough to make your head spin because this entire situation felt completely out of control already.

Sevika must’ve seen some part of that panic on your face because her expression softened slightly around the edges, though it still didn’t make her look any less dangerous.

“You want me to leave?” she asked finally, and the question hit you harder than expected. Her voice stayed low and calm while she said it, but there was something restrained underneath the words that made your stomach tighten painfully.

Sevika’s hand flexed once against the mattress beside your thigh while she waited for your answer, metal fingers curling slightly into the sheets near your hip. The silence stretched too long because the truth sat heavy at the back of your throat immediately.

You didn’t want her to leave at all, and Sevika seemed to realize that from the way your thighs pressed together instinctively instead of pulling away from her.

“No,” you admitted softly after another second passed, your voice embarrassingly quiet beneath the pounding of your heartbeat.

The confession seemed to affect Sevika instantly because her jaw tightened slightly while her eyes darkened in a way that made heat flood straight between your legs again. “No?” she repeated slowly, like she wanted to hear you say it twice just to make sure.

You shook your head carefully against the pillows while your fingers twisted tighter in the sheets beneath you, completely unable to look away from her now.

Sevika stared at you for another long moment afterward before exhaling quietly through her nose, like she was trying very hard to hold herself back from something.

“Then keep going,” she said finally.

Your breath caught sharply in your throat the second the words left her mouth. You just stared at her for a moment because surely you’d heard her wrong somehow, but Sevika’s expression never changed.

She stayed leaned over you with one knee pressed into the mattress beside your thigh while her eyes flicked deliberately toward your hand still hovering uselessly near your stomach.

“You heard me,” she added quietly when you still didn’t move. Her voice dropped lower afterward, rough enough to send another pulse of heat straight through your body. “Touch your pussy again.”

A needy little sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. The command alone made your clit throb painfully hard between your legs while slick continued dripping slowly onto Sevika’s sheets beneath you.

Your fingers hesitated for another second anyway because this felt insane now, completely insane, but Sevika just kept watching you with those heavy dark eyes that made thinking impossible.

“C’mon,” she murmured softly, almost coaxing now despite how rough her voice still sounded. “You were doing such a pretty job before I interrupted you.”

Your entire body burned at the praise. The warmth in Sevika’s tone mixed horribly with the humiliation already curling through your chest until your thighs trembled visibly beneath her stare again.

Sevika noticed instantly, gaze dropping between your legs while a slow smirk finally pulled properly across her mouth this time. “There it is,” she muttered darkly, clearly enjoying every second of watching your body react to her.

The sight of her looking at you like that nearly made your brain short circuit completely because Sevika had never looked at you this openly before. Never let you see hunger written this clearly across her face.

Slowly, almost nervously, your hand slid back down between your thighs. Your fingertips brushed lightly through your soaked folds first, gathering slick that coated your fingers immediately before circling back toward your clit again.

A soft moan escaped your mouth the second you touched yourself properly because you were still embarrassingly sensitive from before Sevika interrupted you.

Your hips jerked upward instinctively into your own hand while wet sounds filled the room again almost immediately. Sevika’s eyes stayed locked on the movement between your thighs so intensely it nearly made your entire body shake.

“Fuck,” Sevika breathed quietly under her breath while watching your fingers rub slow circles over your swollen clit. The word sounded strained now, lower and rougher than before in a way that made your stomach tighten hard.

You could physically feel how focused she was on your body, on the slick coating your fingers, on the way your pussy clenched every time you moaned softly.

“Look how wet you are,” she murmured after another second passed, voice almost disbelieving despite the obvious arousal thickening it now.

The filthy observation made your face burn all over again because your pussy actually pulsed harder at hearing Sevika describe you like that out loud.

Your hand shook slightly between your thighs after that. Every slow circle over your clit felt almost too intense now with Sevika watching from so close beside you, her entire focus locked directly onto the slick movements of your fingers. The room had gone unbearably warm somewhere during all of this, heat sticking to your skin while your breathing turned thinner and more uneven with every passing second.

Wet sounds filled the silence steadily each time your fingers dragged through your folds before rubbing back over your swollen clit again, embarrassingly loud against the quiet hum of the apartment outside. Sevika watched every single movement like she couldn’t look away even if she tried, dark eyes fixed between your thighs with an intensity that made your stomach twist painfully.

“Shit,” Sevika muttered quietly again, almost to herself this time. Her flesh hand slid slowly across the mattress beside your hip while she leaned a little closer over you, broad shoulders boxing you further into the bed beneath her weight.

The movement filled your senses instantly because now you could smell cigarette smoke and leather and Sevika herself so much stronger than before.

Your pussy clenched hard around nothing from the closeness alone while your hips rocked helplessly upward into your own touch again. Sevika’s gaze flicked upward briefly toward your face when you whimpered softly, and the look in her eyes nearly made your entire body shake.

“You always this sensitive?” she asked lowly after another moment passed. Her voice sounded rough enough to scrape against your skin while her eyes dropped immediately back down to where your fingers kept rubbing desperate little circles over your clit.

You couldn’t answer properly because your thoughts felt sluggish and overheated now, tangled completely in the humiliation and arousal twisting together inside your chest.

Another shaky moan escaped your mouth instead, softer this time, almost needy in a way that made Sevika’s jaw tighten visibly. “Yeah,” she murmured after hearing it. “Thought so.”

Your free hand tightened harder in the sheets beside you while your thighs spread wider unconsciously beneath her stare. Slick coated the inside of your legs completely now, glistening against your skin every time the dim apartment light caught it just right.

You could physically feel how soaked your pussy had become, every movement of your fingers slipping wetly through your folds before circling back toward your clit again.

The shame of it made your face burn hotter because Sevika could obviously see all of it too. She could see exactly what she was doing to you without even touching you yet.

“Look at this mess,” Sevika said quietly, and your stomach twisted violently at the sound of genuine fascination in her voice. Her metal hand moved slowly then, cold fingers brushing lightly against the inside of your thigh while she watched your entire body jolt at the contact.

The temperature difference sent a sharp pulse of heat straight through your stomach immediately, your hips twitching against the mattress while a breathless sound escaped your throat.

Sevika noticed every reaction instantly because her eyes narrowed slightly while her metal fingertips dragged higher along your damp skin. “Can barely keep your legs still,” she added roughly while your thighs trembled around her hand.

“Sevika…” Her name left your mouth softer this time, almost pleading without you meaning it to sound that way. Your fingers stuttered briefly against your clit while Sevika’s hand continued sliding slowly upward along your inner thigh, stopping dangerously close to where you needed her most.

The restraint in the movement nearly hurt because she wasn’t actually touching your pussy yet, just hovering close enough to make your entire body ache in anticipation.

You could feel cool metal near your soaked folds now, close enough that every tiny shift of your hips brushed you nearer to her fingers. Sevika’s gaze lifted toward your face again when you squirmed helplessly beneath her.

“What?” she asked quietly, though her expression said she already knew exactly what you wanted. Her voice had softened slightly beneath the roughness now, lower and more intimate in a way that made your pulse pound even harder against your ribs. You opened your mouth to answer before immediately closing it again because saying the words out loud suddenly felt impossible.

Admitting how badly you wanted Sevika to touch you felt terrifying after spending so long pretending these feelings didn’t exist. Sevika watched the conflict flicker across your face for another long second before exhaling softly through her nose.

“You gonna ask me for it?” she murmured.

The question hit you hard enough to make your pussy clench visibly again. Your hips rolled upward instinctively searching for more friction while your fingers rubbed faster over your clit without thinking about it.

Sevika’s eyes dropped immediately to the movement between your thighs, her expression darkening further at the sight of your slick fingers moving desperately against yourself now.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath while watching you unravel beneath her. The sound alone nearly made your head spin because Sevika looked genuinely affected now, like holding herself back was becoming difficult.

Your breathing grew shakier by the second. Every rub against your clit sent little pulses of pleasure shooting through your stomach now, building tighter and tighter until your thighs wouldn’t stop trembling around your hand anymore.

You were already close again embarrassingly fast, especially with Sevika staring at your pussy like she wanted to bury herself between your legs immediately.

The pressure building low in your stomach felt almost painful now, hot and heavy and impossible to ignore while your hips rocked faster against your own fingers. Sevika noticed instantly because her eyes sharpened while she watched your body start losing rhythm.

“There you go,” she murmured softly. “Getting close already, huh?”

The praise made your entire body jerk slightly against the mattress. A needy sound escaped your mouth before you could stop it while your fingers slipped through slick even faster now, wet noises filling the room steadily beneath your uneven breathing.

Sevika’s metal hand finally moved higher again after another second passed, fingertips brushing lightly through the slick coating the inside of your thigh before stopping right beside your pussy.

The touch wasn’t direct enough. Not nearly enough. But somehow that made it worse because you could feel exactly how close she was to finally touching you properly.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” Sevika said suddenly.

Your fingers faltered briefly in surprise while your eyes snapped toward her face again. Sevika stayed completely calm beside you despite the hunger obvious in her expression now, dark gaze moving slowly between your face and the mess between your thighs while she waited. “Sevika…” you breathed weakly, immediately embarrassed by the idea of saying any of it out loud.

Her eyebrow lifted slightly at your hesitation while her metal fingertips traced another slow line along your inner thigh. “C’mon,” she said roughly. “You were moaning my name into my fucking pillows before I walked in. Don’t get shy now.”

Heat flooded your face so hard it hurt. Your pussy throbbed painfully from embarrassment and arousal mixing together while your fingers kept rubbing messy desperate circles over your clit automatically.

Sevika watched you struggle for words for another second before leaning closer suddenly, close enough that her breath brushed faintly against your jaw.

“Tell me,” she repeated quietly, voice dropping lower until it almost sounded like a growl. The sound sent another sharp pulse through your stomach immediately. “Tell me what you wanted me to do to you.”

Your entire body burned beneath her stare after that. The question hung heavy between you both while your fingers slowed shakily against your clit, your brain scrambling uselessly through humiliation and want at the exact same time.

Sevika stayed close enough that you could feel the warmth rolling off her body now, her broad frame practically crowding you into the mattress while those dark eyes watched every tiny reaction crossing your face.

Her metal fingertips still rested against your inner thigh too, cold enough to keep making your muscles twitch every few seconds whenever they brushed your skin accidentally.

The combination of everything nearly made your head spin because you’d spent so long trying not to want Sevika like this that actually admitting it out loud felt terrifying.

“I…” Your voice cracked embarrassingly fast the second you tried speaking properly.

A soft curse left Sevika’s mouth at the sound while her eyes dragged slowly down toward your lips before settling back onto your face again.

Your pussy clenched hard around nothing beneath her attention, slick practically dripping against the sheets now while your fingers trembled helplessly between your thighs.

“I was thinking about your mouth,” you admitted finally, barely above a whisper by the end of the sentence. The confession immediately made Sevika go still in a way that felt dangerous.

“Yeah?” she asked quietly after another second passed. Her voice sounded deeper now, rough enough that the single word sent heat rushing violently through your stomach again.

You nodded weakly against the pillows while your hips twitched upward searching unconsciously for more friction beneath your hand. Sevika watched the movement instantly, gaze dropping between your thighs while her jaw tightened visibly.

“Tell me,” she said again, slower this time, eyes still fixed directly on your soaked pussy. “Tell me exactly what you were thinking.”

Your stomach twisted hard enough to hurt. The embarrassment should’ve stopped you completely, but Sevika’s expression had gone so intensely focused now that the words started spilling out before you could lose your nerve.

“I was thinking about you between my legs,” you whispered shakily while your fingers rubbed another messy circle over your clit. “About you making me keep my thighs open for you.”

The second sentence nearly dissolved into a moan because Sevika’s metal fingertips suddenly pressed harder into the inside of your thigh at the exact same time. “Fuck,” Sevika muttered softly beneath her breath while watching your body react to her.

Then she moved.

The mattress dipped harder beneath her weight as Sevika shifted lower between your thighs without breaking eye contact once. Your breath caught sharply in your throat while she settled herself properly against the bed, broad shoulders spreading your legs apart further automatically just from her size alone.

One large hand slid firmly beneath your thigh before pulling it higher over her shoulder, exposing your soaked pussy completely beneath the dim apartment lighting.

The sight made your face burn all over again because slick glistened visibly between your folds now, wetness coating your fingers and inner thighs completely. Sevika stared directly at it for a long second before exhaling quietly through her nose like she was restraining herself.

“This what you wanted?” she asked roughly while her thumb dragged slowly through the slick gathered along your inner thigh. The touch made your hips jerk upward instantly because you were sensitive enough now that even the smallest contact felt overwhelming.

“Wanted me down here looking at your pretty pussy?” Sevika continued lowly while her eyes flicked upward toward your face again. The filthy wording alone nearly made your thighs close around her head, but Sevika’s metal hand immediately stopped you by gripping your leg firmly in place. “Keep them open,” she murmured. “Lemme see.”

A broken whine escaped your throat immediately. Your fingers finally slipped away from your clit completely because Sevika was between your legs now, actually there, and your brain genuinely couldn’t process it fast enough.

The sudden loss of friction made your pussy throb painfully hard while your hips twitched restlessly against the mattress beneath you. Sevika noticed instantly because her mouth twitched slightly at the corners before she leaned closer.

Warm breath brushed directly against your soaked folds first, making your entire body jolt violently beneath her. “Sevika,” you gasped softly, almost panicked by how badly you suddenly needed her.

“You said you were thinking about my mouth,” Sevika reminded you quietly. Her voice vibrated low against the inside of your thigh while her eyes stayed locked on your face now instead of the mess between your legs.

“So tell me,” she continued roughly while her flesh hand spread your folds apart slowly with two fingers. “Tell me what else you wanted.” The movement exposed your clit completely to the cool air, already swollen and slick and twitching visibly beneath her touch.

Sevika cursed softly under her breath at the sight before dragging her thumb lightly over it once. Your back arched immediately off the mattress.

“Oh my god—”

The cry tore out of your throat embarrassingly loud. Your thighs shook violently around Sevika’s shoulders while your fingers twisted helplessly into the sheets beside your head.

Sevika stared directly at your face while rubbing another slow circle over your clit, expression darkening visibly when your hips bucked harder toward her touch.

“That sensitive already?” she asked lowly, almost sounding amused despite the obvious hunger thickening her voice now.

You couldn’t answer properly because pleasure was hitting too fast now, every tiny movement against your clit sending sharp pulses straight through your stomach. Sevika watched you struggle for words for another second before leaning closer suddenly.

Then her tongue dragged slowly through your folds.

The feeling hit hard enough to make your entire body seize. A strangled moan escaped your mouth while your thighs tried desperately to close around Sevika’s head again, but her metal hand kept you spread open effortlessly.

Her tongue moved slow at first, gathering slick before dragging upward toward your clit while a rough groan vibrated deep in her throat at the taste of you.

The sound nearly made your brain shut down completely because Sevika actually sounded affected, genuinely enjoying herself between your legs right now. “Fuck,” she muttered roughly against your pussy before licking into you again even deeper than before.

Your hands flew into her hair automatically. Fingers tangled tightly into the dark strands while your hips rocked helplessly against Sevika’s mouth searching for more pressure, more friction, more anything.

Sevika let you pull at her hair without complaint while her tongue continued working through your soaked folds slowly and thoroughly like she was savouring every reaction she dragged from you.

Every wet sound filled the room embarrassingly loudly now, mixing with your broken moans and Sevika’s rough breathing between your thighs.

The slick scrape of her stubble against your inner legs only made everything feel dirtier too, enough that your clit kept twitching uncontrollably every time she exhaled against it. You could physically feel yourself dripping around her tongue now, body completely giving up beneath her.

“This what you were imagining?” Sevika asked suddenly against your pussy.

The vibration of her voice against your clit made you cry out sharply. Your hips jerked upward hard enough that Sevika’s grip tightened immediately on your thighs, metal fingers digging firmly into soft skin while she held you open for her mouth.

“Y-yes,” you gasped desperately while your head pressed deeper into the pillows behind you. “Fuck, yes.”

The admission came out wrecked and needy and completely honest now because there was no point pretending anymore. Sevika groaned softly after hearing it, the sound low and rough and genuinely pleased in a way that made your stomach tighten violently again.

“Good,” she murmured before licking another slow stripe directly over your clit.

Your entire body kept trembling beneath Sevika after that. Every slow drag of her tongue through your soaked folds made your hips jerk helplessly against her mouth while your fingers tightened harder in her hair. The room felt blurry around the edges now, pleasure building so intensely beneath your skin that it almost hurt to breathe properly.

Sevika stayed settled heavily between your thighs while her metal hand kept one leg thrown securely over her shoulder, holding you open exactly the way you’d imagined earlier. The realization alone nearly made you whine because somehow the reality felt even dirtier than the fantasy ever had.

“That all?” Sevika asked roughly after another long lick against your clit. Her voice vibrated low against your pussy again, sending another sharp pulse straight through your stomach while your thighs shook harder around her head.

“That’s all you were thinking about?” she continued quietly, dark eyes flicking upward toward your face while her tongue dragged teasing little circles over your clit now instead of giving you enough pressure.

The question immediately made your stomach twist because there had been so much more in your head earlier. Filthier things. Things you’d never planned on admitting out loud to Sevika in your entire life.

Your breathing turned embarrassingly uneven again. One of your hands slipped from Sevika’s hair down toward your own throat unconsciously while you tried forcing words past the humiliation tightening in your chest.

Sevika noticed the movement instantly because her eyes followed your fingers carefully before narrowing slightly in understanding.

“Fuck,” she muttered softly against your skin. The single word sounded dangerously interested. “C’mon,” she coaxed lower afterward while her thumb rubbed another slow circle against your clit. “Tell me what else you wanted.”

You swallowed hard enough to hurt.

“I was thinking…” Your voice nearly disappeared completely for a second while Sevika stayed perfectly still waiting beneath you. “I was thinking about you choking me,” you admitted shakily while heat flooded your entire body again.

The confession immediately made Sevika groan softly against your thigh, dark eyes flashing upward toward your face again with open hunger this time.

Your pussy clenched hard enough around nothing to make your hips twitch violently against her mouth. “Yeah?” Sevika asked quietly, voice suddenly rougher than before. “You want my hand around your throat that bad?”

The filthy wording made a broken sound leave your mouth immediately. Your thighs trembled violently around her shoulders while Sevika slowly licked another stripe through your folds, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted every time she spoke. “Wanted you pinning me down,” you confessed weakly while your fingers curled tighter into the sheets beneath you.

“Wanted you choking me while you made me cum.” The second sentence barely came out steady because Sevika’s expression changed completely after hearing it. Her pupils looked blown wide now, jaw tight enough that you could see the muscle flexing beneath her skin.

Then Sevika finally moved upward again.

The sudden loss of her mouth against your pussy made you whine softly while she climbed over you instead, broad body settling heavily between your spread thighs. Her hand grabbed your jaw roughly before tilting your face upward toward hers while her other arm braced beside your head against the mattress.

You could taste yourself faintly on her mouth already from where she’d been between your legs seconds earlier, and the realization alone nearly made your brain short circuit.

“Like this?” Sevika asked lowly while her flesh hand slid slowly down from your jaw toward your throat. Your pulse jumped wildly beneath her fingers the second she touched you there.

“Fuck,” you whispered shakily.

Sevika’s hand tightened.

Not enough to hurt. Not enough to stop your breathing. Just enough pressure to make your entire body arch upward instinctively beneath her while a needy moan spilled from your mouth.

Her dark eyes stayed locked directly on your face while her thumb pressed slowly against the side of your throat, feeling the way your pulse raced beneath her hand now.

“Pretty,” she muttered softly while watching your expression fall apart beneath the pressure. The praise mixed horribly with the choking, enough that your pussy throbbed so hard it almost ached.

“I was thinking about you slapping my tits too,” you admitted suddenly before embarrassment could stop you. The words rushed out breathlessly while Sevika stared down at you with obvious fascination spreading slowly across her face now.

“Shit,” she breathed softly, almost sounding impressed by the confession. Her hand stayed around your throat while the other slid downward over your chest slowly, fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt before tugging it upward impatiently.

Cool air brushed across your skin the second your chest was exposed fully beneath her. Sevika stared for maybe half a second before her expression darkened again instantly.

Then her palm smacked sharply against one of your breasts.

The sound cracked loudly through the bedroom. A cry escaped your mouth immediately while your back arched hard off the mattress, nipples tightening painfully from the sudden sting mixed with pleasure shooting through your body. Sevika’s hand rubbed over the reddening skin afterward almost absentmindedly while she watched your reaction closely.

“That what you wanted?” she asked lowly while her thumb brushed slowly across your nipple afterward. The roughness in her voice nearly made your head spin completely.

“Yes,” you gasped immediately. “Fuck, yes.”

Sevika laughed softly under her breath after hearing how desperate you sounded. Her hand squeezed your throat once more before finally loosening enough for you to breathe properly again while she leaned closer over you.

“Anything else?” she asked quietly against your lips. The question should’ve embarrassed you more than it did, but your body already felt too overheated and desperate to stop now.

Your hands slid upward against Sevika’s shoulders slowly while your thighs wrapped instinctively around her waist. “I was thinking about you spitting in my mouth,” you whispered weakly.

Sevika froze for half a second.

Then she groaned.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” she muttered darkly while staring down at you like she wanted to ruin you completely now. Heat flooded straight between your legs again while your pussy clenched hard around nothing beneath her weight.

Sevika’s hand slid from your throat into your hair instead, gripping tightly near the roots before tugging your head backward slightly. “Open,” she ordered lowly.

Your lips parted immediately.

Sevika stared down into your mouth for one long second before spitting directly onto your tongue.

The act felt so filthy and intimate that a moan escaped your throat instantly. Your hips bucked upward hard against Sevika’s waist while your eyes squeezed shut briefly from how intensely arousal crashed through your body afterward. Sevika watched the reaction carefully before grabbing your jaw again roughly. “Swallow it,” she murmured.

You obeyed instantly.

“Good girl,” Sevika praised softly afterward, and your pussy practically throbbed at the words.

Then your brain caught back up with another fantasy you’d been obsessing over earlier.

“I was imagining grinding against you too,” you admitted breathlessly while your hands slid lower down Sevika’s body. “Pussy against pussy.” The confession immediately made Sevika’s expression darken further.

Her eyes dragged slowly downward between your bodies before lifting back toward your face again while something hungry flickered visibly behind them now. “Yeah?” she asked lowly.

You nodded desperately beneath her.

“Wanted to feel you grind against me until we both came,” you whispered.

Sevika cursed softly under her breath again.

Then one of her thick thighs suddenly shoved firmly between your legs.

Your entire body jolted at the pressure immediately while Sevika grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise. “Then grind,” she ordered roughly while forcing your hips downward against her thigh.

The friction hit your clit instantly, slick dragging hot against denim while a loud moan ripped from your throat before you could stop it.

Sevika watched your face carefully while guiding your hips harder against her, expression growing darker every second you lost yourself further beneath her.

“That it?” she murmured roughly against your mouth while your pussy dragged desperately against her thigh again and again. “This what you wanted so bad?”

“Please.”

The word fell out of your mouth before you could even think about it properly. Your hips kept grinding desperately against Sevika’s thigh while she held you down against her with both hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave bruises later.

Every drag of rough denim against your swollen clit sent sharp pulses through your stomach now, enough that your thighs shook uncontrollably around Sevika’s body. The friction felt good, too good, but it still wasn’t enough anymore. You wanted skin. Wanted heat. Wanted her.

“Please what?” Sevika asked lowly against your mouth.

The roughness in her voice nearly made your brain melt completely. Her eyes stayed fixed on your face while she continued forcing your hips against her thigh in slow hard movements, clearly enjoying how wrecked you already looked beneath her.

Your chest heaved beneath your pushed-up shirt while slick smeared messily against the inside of your thighs and Sevika’s jeans now from how wet you’d gotten.

The embarrassment should’ve mattered more than it did, but you couldn’t think about anything except the ache between your legs and the unbearable need building tighter every second.

“Need your clothes off,” you gasped desperately while your fingers clutched at the fabric of Sevika’s shirt. “Need to feel you properly.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened visibly at that.

“Yeah?” she murmured softly, though her voice had gone dangerously rough now. One of her hands slid lower against your hip before gripping hard enough to still your desperate movements briefly against her thigh. The sudden loss of friction made a pathetic whine leave your mouth immediately while your hips tried instinctively to move again.

Sevika watched the reaction closely, dark eyes practically burning into your face while a slow smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Look at you,” she muttered quietly. “So desperate already.”

“Sevika, please,” you begged again, softer this time.

The sound did something to her.

You saw it instantly in the way her expression shifted, restraint cracking visibly beneath the hunger spreading across her face now. Sevika cursed softly under her breath before sitting back slightly on the bed, large hands dragging roughly down your thighs while she stared at the mess between them. Your pussy looked absolutely ruined already, swollen and slick and twitching every time cool air hit your clit wrong.

Thick wetness coated the inside of your legs and smeared against Sevika’s sheets beneath you from how long she’d been teasing and touching you. Sevika stared for maybe a second too long before dragging her eyes back upward toward your face again.

“You gonna behave if I do?” she asked lowly.

You nodded immediately.

Too quickly.

The eagerness made Sevika laugh softly beneath her breath while she finally reached down toward her own clothes. Your stomach tightened violently watching her movements, pulse pounding so hard you could feel it everywhere while Sevika slowly unbuckled her belt with one hand.

Metal clinked softly through the room before she shoved her jeans down her thighs enough to reveal dark underwear stretched tightly against broad muscular legs.

The sight alone nearly made your mouth water because Sevika looked unfairly good even half dressed, all heavy muscle and rough hands and sharp hungry eyes watching your reactions carefully.

“Fuck,” you whispered weakly.

Sevika’s smirk deepened slightly after hearing it.

Then she shoved her underwear down too.

Your breath caught so hard it almost hurt.

Sevika spread her thighs slightly while sitting back against the bed, giving you your first proper look at her pussy beneath the dim apartment lighting.

Dark curls sat between strong muscular thighs already slick with arousal, wetness glistening visibly between swollen folds while her clit peeked out slightly from how worked up she’d clearly gotten watching you unravel for her.

She looked gorgeous. Rough and messy and real in a way that made your entire body heat instantly all over again. Your eyes dragged helplessly over the slick gathered between her thighs before flicking back upward toward her face in complete disbelief.

Sevika noticed instantly.

“What?” she asked roughly, though there was something slightly smug beneath the question now.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” you admitted breathlessly.

The confession seemed to catch her off guard for maybe half a second because Sevika’s expression flickered strangely before darkening again almost immediately afterward.

“Yeah?” she muttered quietly while one hand slid slowly between her own thighs. Your stomach twisted violently watching thick fingers drag through the slick coating her folds before circling lazily around her clit once.

A rough exhale left Sevika’s mouth at the contact while her eyes never left yours. “You did this,” she added lowly afterward. “Got me this wet all from touching yourself in my fucking bed.”

The filthy reminder made your pussy clench hard enough to ache.

You couldn’t stop staring at her.

At the wetness glistening between her thighs. At the way her muscles flexed slightly every time her fingers brushed her clit. At the dark hair trailing across her lower stomach and the slick coating her fingers now from touching herself in front of you.

Sevika looked completely different like this, less guarded somehow despite how intense she still seemed. Raw. Hungry. Aroused enough that you could physically see it between her legs now. The realization alone nearly made you moan.

“Come here,” Sevika ordered suddenly.

You moved immediately.

Your body practically crawled toward her across the mattress without hesitation while Sevika leaned back slightly against the headboard, thighs spreading wider to make room for you between them.

Her eyes stayed locked on you the entire time, heavy and dark and impossible to look away from while your breathing grew shakier with every inch closer.

The heat rolling off her body felt overwhelming now that you were close enough to actually touch her properly. You could smell sex and sweat and Sevika herself mixing thickly in the air around you both. Your pussy practically throbbed from how badly you wanted her.

“Sit,” Sevika murmured lowly while patting one thick thigh.

You climbed into her lap immediately.

The second your soaked pussy brushed against Sevika’s slick folds, both of you gasped sharply at the same time. Heat flooded through your body instantly because finally feeling her properly after imagining it for so long nearly overwhelmed your brain completely. Sevika’s pussy felt hot and slick beneath you, wet folds dragging against yours every time your hips shifted even slightly.

Your clit brushed hers accidentally once and your entire body jerked violently from the sudden sharp pleasure. “Fuck,” Sevika groaned softly beneath you while her hands grabbed your hips hard enough to steady you.

“That’s it,” she muttered roughly. “Grind against me.”

You obeyed immediately.

Your hips rolled downward slowly at first, slick pussies dragging wetly against each other while both of you moaned at the sensation together. The friction felt completely different from her thigh earlier, softer and hotter and so much filthier now that you could actually feel Sevika’s wetness smearing against your own.

Every movement made slick spread messily between your thighs while your clits kept catching together in little bursts of overwhelming pleasure. Sevika’s head tipped back briefly against the headboard with a rough groan while her fingers dug harder into your hips. “Fuck, there you go,” she breathed shakily. “Pretty girl.”

Your hips kept moving desperately against Sevika’s without any rhythm left anymore. Every wet grind of your pussy against hers sent sharp bursts of pleasure through your stomach while slick spread hotter and messier between your thighs with each movement.

Sevika stayed leaned back against the headboard beneath you, broad hands gripping your hips tightly while she guided your body against hers exactly the way she wanted.

The room had filled completely with filthy wet sounds now, the drag of your soaked folds against hers mixing with broken moans and uneven breathing until it almost felt impossible to think straight anymore.

You were completely gone for her already, reduced to nothing but desperate grinding and soft needy noises every time your clit caught against hers just right.

“Fuck, look at you,” Sevika groaned roughly while staring up at your face. Her dark eyes dragged slowly over your flushed skin, your swollen lips, your chest heaving hard above her while your body shook in her lap.

You could physically feel how wet she’d gotten beneath you now, slick coating both your thighs while your pussies rubbed together in messy desperate movements that kept making both of you gasp.

Sevika’s fingers tightened harder against your hips when your grinding grew sloppier, clearly noticing how close you were getting already. “Can barely keep yourself together,” she muttered lowly, voice thick with arousal now.

A pathetic whine escaped your throat immediately.

The sound seemed to snap something inside Sevika because suddenly one large hand left your hip and grabbed your breast roughly instead. Her fingers squeezed hard enough to make your back arch upward while another moan spilled from your mouth.

Then Sevika’s palm smacked sharply across your tit again. The sting shot straight through your body instantly, pleasure and pain tangling together hard enough to make your pussy clench violently against hers.

“Oh fuck—” you cried out loudly while your hips jerked harder against Sevika’s lap. The movement dragged your clit directly over hers again and both of you moaned at the exact same time.

“That’s it,” Sevika groaned deeply beneath you. Her hand rubbed roughly over the reddening skin of your breast after the slap while her other hand kept forcing your hips downward against her. “Pretty fuckin’ thing,” she muttered while watching your tits bounce every time your body jolted above her.

The rough praise mixed horribly with the sharp sting lingering across your chest, enough that your thighs shook uncontrollably around Sevika’s waist now.

Every movement between your legs felt wetter and sloppier than before too, slick practically dripping down both your thighs while your clits kept grinding together over and over again. You genuinely couldn’t stop moaning anymore.

“Sevika…” Her name came out wrecked and breathless while your fingers clutched desperately at her shoulders. Your entire body felt overheated now, pleasure tightening so intensely low in your stomach that every little movement threatened to push you over the edge completely.

Sevika stared directly at your face while you unraveled above her, expression dark and hungry and completely focused on every reaction she dragged from your body. Another sharp slap landed against your other breast suddenly and your mouth fell open with a loud cry.

The pain made your pussy pulse hard against hers, slick smearing messily between your folds while your hips ground down harder instinctively afterward.

“That’s my girl,” Sevika groaned roughly.

The praise nearly made you cum on the spot.

Your forehead dropped against Sevika’s shoulder while your body shook harder above her, grinding desperately against her soaked pussy now without any control left at all. Sevika’s hands moved greedily over your body beneath her, one gripping your waist while the other squeezed your breast hard enough to leave marks behind.

Every time your clits brushed together, sharp pleasure shot violently through your stomach until your legs could barely hold you upright anymore.

Sevika wasn’t doing much better either. Her breathing had gone rough and uneven beneath you now, low groans slipping from her mouth every few seconds whenever your hips dragged properly against her.

“Fuck, keep going,” Sevika breathed shakily against your neck. One of her hands slid downward suddenly between your bodies, fingers spreading your slick folds slightly before rubbing directly against your clit while you ground against her at the same time.

The double stimulation nearly made you scream because your clit already felt painfully sensitive from everything she’d done to you tonight.

Your hips bucked wildly against her hand while your thighs trembled so hard Sevika had to grip you tighter to keep you steady above her. “That’s it,” she groaned lower while staring up at your completely wrecked expression. “Use daddy’s pussy just like that.”

The title hit you like a physical blow.

Your entire body seized instantly above her while a broken moan tore from your throat loud enough to echo slightly through the room. Sevika noticed immediately because a dark smirk spread slowly across her face while her fingers rubbed harder against your clit.

“Yeah?” she asked roughly. “You like that?” Your brain felt completely gone now, nothing left except heat and pleasure and Sevika beneath you calling herself daddy while your pussy dragged wetly against hers.

The pressure building low in your stomach suddenly tightened violently all at once. “Daddy—” you cried out desperately before you could stop yourself.

“Fuck,” Sevika groaned deeply beneath you.

Her hands grabbed your hips harder immediately, forcing you to grind faster against her while her own hips started bucking upward now searching desperately for friction too.

Wet sounds filled the room obscenely loud while both of you moved together messily, slick spreading absolutely everywhere between your thighs and lower stomachs now. Sevika’s head tipped backward against the headboard with another rough curse while her fingers kept rubbing your clit relentlessly.

“You gonna cum for daddy?” she asked lowly while staring directly into your face again. The words nearly shattered whatever control you had left instantly.

“Yes,” you sobbed breathlessly. “Please— fuck, daddy, please—”

“That’s it,” Sevika groaned roughly. “Cum all over daddy’s pussy.”

The command pushed you completely over the edge.

Your orgasm hit hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs instantly. A loud cry tore from your throat while your entire body arched violently above Sevika, thighs shaking uncontrollably around her waist while pleasure crashed through you in brutal overwhelming waves.

Your clit pulsed hard against Sevika’s while slick spread hotter between your grinding bodies, hips still jerking desperately against hers even after the orgasm started hitting.

Sevika held you tightly through all of it, groaning deeply beneath you while watching your face completely fall apart above her. “Fuck, good girl,” she breathed shakily while your body trembled against hers.

The feeling of you cumming against her finally dragged Sevika over too.

Her grip on your hips tightened almost painfully while a rough groan ripped from her chest low and deep enough to make your stomach twist again. Sevika’s head fell backward against the headboard while her own hips bucked upward hard beneath you, soaked pussy grinding desperately against yours while her orgasm hit.

You could physically feel her clenching against you now, slick smearing messily between your folds while both of you shook together in the middle of the ruined sheets.

“Fuck— fuck,” Sevika cursed breathlessly while her fingers dug into your skin hard enough to bruise. The sight of Sevika losing composure beneath you almost made your body try to cum again from sheer overstimulation alone.

Your movements eventually slowed into weak trembling little rolls of your hips against hers. Both of you stayed tangled together breathing hard while sweat clung to your skin and slick coated your thighs completely now.

Sevika’s hands slid more gently over your waist afterward, thumbs rubbing slow soothing circles against overheated skin while she stared up at you with dark exhausted eyes.

Your forehead stayed pressed against her shoulder while your body twitched every few seconds from aftershocks still rippling through you. Then Sevika laughed softly beneath her breath, rough voice still wrecked from orgasm.

Sevika did not account for falling hopelessly in love with you. In fact, she didn’t account for meeting you in general. In the time she’d been called to Moonbuck Coffee, she had not officially met you. She only heard your names through the employees who would run amok trying to take care of the customers. 

 It’s not until an issue with the HVAC vent that has her hauling ass to the shop that she has the opportunity to see you. The summer heat is blaring in the back of her head, and she’s entering the shop, the smell of coffee bean and syrup circling her nose. Sevika looks around for a second, and then she sees you. 

And you hold up your hand, waiting for her to circle the counter. You’re about a foot shorter than she is, doe eyes staring up at her. She notices everything. The way you stare at her face, and how your throat bobs as she towers you. 

Her eyes flash down to your tag. ‘Y/N’. And she says your name inside her head, thinking about it, even when she’s eyeing the inside of the vent, and you’re so eagerly passing her the equipment from the bag. She can see sweat beads along your forehead, and as you pass the equipment, her calloused hands brush yours. 

Heat rushes through her body, curling along her spine. What feels like bliss fizzes across her mind, and when she’s done, her eyes follow you. When the latter is back behind the shop, you’re quick to give her a cup. An iced coffee–something she never indulges in because sweets have never been her thing. 

But you look at her, with a smile, so soft and innocent, pupils slightly dilated, as her hands extend to yours. “On me,” you say, and she can spot the shakiness in your voice, “consider it a thank you for saving us from the heat.” 

Sevika stares at the drink before she takes it, purposely wrapping her hands just a centimeter above yours, a safe distance for her pinky to glide down and touch your skin. “Will I always get this kind of treatment when something breaks?” She murmurs, something akin to sarcasm and amusement behind her voice. 

You nod. Fast and eager, and Sevika imagines that it’s just for her, “Yes.”

Somewhere along the lines of her working through nine more vents, and some complaints about her gruff demeanor, she thinks about you. She thinks about your eager little nod and the way you looked up at her while fixing the vents. You curl along her frontal lobe, the smell of coffee beans and sweat infecting her brain until all she can smell is you. 

Sevika goes back to the coffee shop around closing time. A need for something. Perhaps a look at you, perhaps the smell of coffee. It doesn’t matter, but she needs something. When she arrives, you’re wiping down the espresso machine, all alone. 

“A little dangerous to be by yourself at this time.” Sevika steps into the counter, eyes staring you down. 

The sky had dimmed, and one could barely see anything from the windows, save for the little light post that continuously flickers. But you laugh at her, “‘m not alone… well, right now, anyways. The other workers are in the back, and it’s a slow night. How was that iced coffee?”

“Sweet. Too sweet, but…I liked it. Vanilla cold brew.”

You nod, “Are you still working?”

“Just a little longer, and then I’m finished.” Truthfully, she was done. There wasn’t any work left to do. She simply wanted to see you. You ring her up, and she watches you, while you’re working, eyes brushing along your neck, the curve of your spine, and the twitch in your finger. 

When you finish, you slide the drink to her, and she racks her brain about the times she’s seen you. A month working around Moonbuck, and she never once laid eyes on you. “Did you barely start working here?”

Your smile slowly fades away. “It is that bad?”

Sevika laughs, letting her shoulder shake. “No. No. It’s good. I mean, because I’ve come to do maintenance and I’ve never seen you.”

“Oh,” your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape before you shake your head, “No, I just get these odd hours, since I have another job. But I live around the area, so I’m a little focused on this one. Perhaps you’ll see me a lot more.”

Interesting. Her head tilts, “You live by?”

“Yeah, so I don’t need to drive. Just a quick twenty-minute walk. Not too bad, some days, I drag myself home, because standing up all the time, really works your muscles.”

“Still a little dangerous, don’t you think? Walking alone at night.” Sevika says it, and along her brain, she imagines protecting you. Making sure that you get home safely, perhaps walking you all the way inside. 

You give her a shrug, “Sometimes, but I can’t always have someone watching over me, to make sure I get home,” and you laugh, as if the thought is too ridiculous. But Sevika thinks otherwise.

Sevika smiles along, but she never comments. When she finally sits down, halfway into the cold brew, you begin to talk. You drone on about random crap, but she never really interjects; she simply pays attention, glancing at Vi, then turning her attention to you. Sometimes she’d say, “I understand”, and then “What do you mean?” and you’d elaborate. 

By the end, it almost feels as though you’ve given her every ounce of information about your life. Sevika memorises it all. Where you work, how much you hate some of your coworkers in the other job, and how tired you get sometimes. 

Sevika thinks about all the ways she can make it better, how good she’d treat you if you let her. How she’d make sure you stay happy and belly full with whatever you need. The amount of flowers she’d give you, if you just gave her a chance.

When Sevika leaves, she glides into her car, lighting a cigarette from across the street. You can’t really blame her, though; she has a soft heart, despite her appearance, and the thought of someone harming you makes her sick. So she stays there, watching while you clean and finish everything, then takes your bag and closes Moonbuck. 

You never really notice the older woman walking behind you. It’s difficult to actually gauge a presence behind you when you’re listening to music. But it doesn’t matter because Sevika makes sure that you’re alright, and even walks you to your house, stopping just at a small bush to make sure that you make it inside your apartment.

Sevika comes back the next morning, exactly around nine thirty, with the same order. A vanilla cold brew. Then the next day, and the day after that. You’re the one who rings her up, always. It becomes a routine, and on the days that you don’t work in the morning, she’s there at night, with an order of vanilla cold brew and maybe a burrito if she’s feeling different. 

And every other night shift that you cover, she’s also there, parking her car away from the shop, giving her enough leverage to watch you through the windows. It’s her routine after work, making sure that her pretty barista makes it home. 

On Monday, you head to your second job around nine pm, rushing out of the apartment, trying to put your hair in a ponytail, or just away from your face. There’s a cold water bottle in your hand, and a bag in the other, juggling them as you enter your beat up honda. Sevika isn’t working; it’s her off day. 

When you finally pull away from the driveway, you park the car, a street away, black cap on her head, rushing to the apartment complex. She already guessed which one is yours, and she stops in front of the black door, looking side to side, before she squats down, picking the lock.

When the door pops open, she smells lilac along with another flowery scent, and her eyes rake over everything, until her gloved hands are pushing open your room door. Sevika noses your bed sheets, pulling the cover back to smell you, inhaling a floral and sweet scent, close to fabric softener. “Mhm, my pretty girl.” Sevika groans. 

She wishes she could stop there, but her hands find their way into your drawers, fingertips trailing your ribbed bras, lacy and plain designs all along. Then your panties, and she holds onto her strength as she pulls them to her face, cock twitching, thinking of you wearing them for her.

And she’s quick to snatch a pair from your dirty hamper, stuffing them inside her jeans. Two pairs, one dirty and one clean, so she can smell your cunt on her break. The next day, she’s quick to stuff one in her jeans. 

She doesn’t pull them out until it’s afternoon, and calls become slower. With five minutes on the clock before her lunch break, she stuffs herself in one of the bathroom stalls. She’s quick to hold her shirt in her mouth, muffling a hiss as she pulls her cock out. It slaps her lean stomach, tip gleaming with precum, while thick veins jut out from along the shaft. 

Her hands grip onto herself as she reaches for your panties, shoving them on her face. Her tongue darts along the material as she fucks into her first, reaching to the head and spreading precum. Pleasure darts across her back, curling in her spine, and she can almost envision you in front of her. 

Please, Sevika, fuck my mouth. Sevika’s cock twitches imaging you begging for a taste, pink tongue out, pupils dilated as her cock slaps your tongue. A soft groan escapes her lips, “fuckkk, that’s it.”

And in her head, fuzzy with lust and need, as your tongue darts along the head, doe-eyes watering as you try not to choke on her, trying your best to please her. And she shouldn’t think about this, because you’re so young, and she’s nearly twenty years older than you.

Goosebumps spread across her skin, and her balls tighten as you pull away from her cock, opening your mouth to show her, spit circling your mouth. ‘Please, Vika, I’ll be so good for you, need you to take care of me.’

The thought of you saying that to her, all needy and whiny, nearly splits her brain in two, and her hand tightens around the head of her cock, hips twitching as cum shoots from the red slit. “fucckk.” 

Her loud gasp rings around, echoing until she’s leaning laxly on the wall of the bathroom. Her muscles twitch, orgasm spiralling through her system until she’s finally stopped seeing double. Guilt rushes through her system, and she pushes your panties inside her jeans.

She tries not to think about the fact that she came from just imagining you on your knees. Or the fact that in the good thirteen years she’s worked at Zaun, she’s never done that. It feels disgusting, yet so fucking good. 

She still stops by the Moonbuck during the night. And you still smile at her, sweet and so so fucking pretty, unaware that your babydoll panties, the ones with flowers embroidered on them, are inside Sevika’s jeans, nearly stained with her cum. 

“How was work today?” You ask her, wiping down the sticky counter, while the espresso machine softly hums behind you. “We had this guy come in, super pissed his mobile order was wrong, and he nearly threw the drink at us.”

She clicks her tongue, “People like that don’t deserve proper customer service. Sorry, you had such a bad day.”

“It’s okay…it wasn’t your fault, and you’re right.” You respond, “But tell me about your day.”

And Sevika recounts it. The boring details, how dirty she gets, and everything, but never how she came apart in the bathroom thinking about sinking into your sweet pussy, and the taste of you in her mouth. And you laugh along, loud and unabashed, shoulders shaking, while pieces of your hair stick out, and your uniform is a bit fucked up from moving around. 

For a second, she wished she could kneel and convince you to open your legs and let her fuck her tongue into you. Suck out all the exhaustion from your bones until you’re crying, and boneless against her. That is, until you’re starting to mop the floor, signalling her that she needs to leave and go back to making sure you get home safely. 

The next day, the same thing with HVAC happens again. It’s barely one in the afternoon, just hours after you served Sevika her regular Vanilla cold brew. Before she gets there, you’re in the backroom, inhaling the earthy scent of ground beans while the soft hiss of the espresso machine grinds in your ear.

 You can hear the jittery murmur of the crowd outside, and before you can stack another coffee bag, the loud scheet, akin to metal-on-metal grinding, echoes through the ceiling vents. You pause for a second, beads of sweat curl in the back of your neck. 

An electrical hum rings around, and you go back to packing more coffee. You don’t exactly realise something is wrong until you’re outside the backroom after a good ten minutes, firmly tapping the coffee ground onto a metal portafiler, and sweat builds in every crevice of your body. 

Ekko is the one who turns to you, with a sweat on his forehead, “Is it just me, or is it hotter than usual?”

You shrug until Jinx comes out. “I think the AC is out…or something, but the air is fucking gone,” she whispers, wiping her pink cheek. “Someone fix it, before I quit.” 

Heat curls along your belly. Sevika. With a flick of a switch, you lock the portafiler into the espresso machine, “Ekko, get this for me, I’ll call Sevika.”

Jinx smiles, “First name basis, huh?”

“Fuck off.” You whisper to her, heading towards the back again, and the wave of hot air makes you shudder. The mix of coffee beans has begun to make you sick, and it’s been only a year.

In the back, the phone rings, and a husky voice picks up. “Zaun’s Heating Service, what do you need?”

“Hi…it’s Moonbuck. I think our A/C is out, or something with the air is ou–”

“Y/N?”

You pause, finally recognising the husky voice, “Sev?”

“I’ll be right there, doll.”

Doll. Doll. 

You smile, cheek to cheek, until you can feel the guidiness in your scalp, toes, and fingertips. When Sevika arrives, you’ve taken off your headcap, and your hair is up. You can feel the sweat building in your temples, and the smell of toasted hazelnut, along with burnt sugar curls in your nose. There aren’t that many customers, though, not compared to the morning; oddly enough, the afternoon is quiet. 

She arrives wearing dark jeans, brown steel boots, and a dark blue shirt with the name ‘Zaun’s Heating Service’ in white. A small orange towel hangs from one of her front pockets, and she carries a thick black and yellow bag in her hand. A thick feeling of deja vu crosses your spine. 

It almost feels like the first time you met. Perhaps it’s the heat, or the way your fingers have touched every inch of your body, thinking about the much older sevika, that comes into work, keeping you company. Like your own shining knight.

You can’t help but stare at her. The way her muscles bulge out of the dark blue shirt, and how her thick dark eyebrows are knitted together, as she quickly passes to the back of the counter. “This feels a little familiar, don’t you think?”

She smiles, and god,  she takes up so much space, that when she stops in front of you, the immediate feeling to take a step back curls in you. Despite the smell of the shop taking over your nose, the scent of Sevika makes your stomach bubble. Sweat, oil, and wood. It hits you all that once, just like when you first met her. “A little.”

She follows you into the back room, and the ladder is already under the vent. Sevika drops her bag on the floor, and you’re already flushing from the heart, but your ears heat up as she leans into your space. Her leg is propped on one of the steps, “Are you messing with the vent just to see me, Doll?”

You blink at her, too focused on the fact that she could pick you up. How easily she could fuck you against the backroom wall, hidden in the corner where Caitlyn and Vi always sneak to. You bashfully look away, “You’ve figured out my plan.” 

“You can always call me, doll. You know my number.” Sevika drawls out, climbing up to the vent. Your ears heat up, and you only hum, trying to keep your face from showing too much joy.

She takes a look at the vent and then down towards you. Dark grey eyes stare back, taking a second before blinking and looking back up. She pops the ceiling tile out, while you’re staring at her broad shoulders, seeing tiny specs of dust drift down into the air. 

When Sevika begins to work, she’ll look down, mention some kind of equipment, then give you a dumbed-down description of it. “Pass the five-sixteenth bit out of the side pocket.” And she’s about to give you a description of it until you’re shuffling through the bag, reaching for the hex-head screw. 

You pass it to her, reaching up, and she gives you a wide smile. Wide enough to show all teeth, “Atta girl. Learning fast, ain’t ya?”

Jolts of heat rush through your body, feeling her warm, rough hand against yours. You bite back a whimper, the praise rushing through your body like wildfire, and it sounds exactly like you’ve imagined her saying it to you. 

You keep reaching down, touching her rough fingers, until a heavy clank screeches, and the hum of the HVAC kicks in, blasting cool, stale air. Sevika climbs down, wiping sweat from her brow, while dark stains cover her collar and armpit area. You stand there like an idiot, until she takes a step towards you, hands steady on the latter. 

Your mouth is slightly parted, doe-eyes still staring up. “Need help?” You whisper. 

“You don’t think I can carry it?” She laughs, grabs the ladder, and walks towards the back. You can’t tell what compelled you to act irrationally. Maybe it’s the heat getting to your head, but you follow her, taking small steps, until she’s turning, and you’re pushing her to the little corner away from the camera. 

You tiptoe until you’re pressing your lips to hers, and her back is hitting the storage shelves, rattling the myriad of coffee bean bags. A small sigh escapes your lips, and you’re clutching onto her strong shoulders. You freeze, pulling back when Sevika doesn’t move. Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t look mad or disgusted. 

“I…I’m so s–”

And she’s quickly turning your back to the shelf, pushing her tongue inside your mouth, as you gasp. She licks, tongue darting to your teeth, until she’s tasting the residue of caramel on your premolars, sliding to your tongue. 

Her knee pushes between your legs, and your hips thrust down, whining into her mouth. You push back, trying to take a deep breath while she nuzzles her neck into yours, leaving sweat on the side, inhaling your scent. “Sev…” You breathe out. “More, please.”

She pulls back eyebrows knitted, “I can’t doll, I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have.”

“Why?” 

Her eyes dart down to your wet lips, “You’re so young.”

A sixteen-year difference that makes your body heat up. “Who cares about that? Just a couple of years,” You retort, trying to push her closer to you, “Please, I wa–need, I need it.” And you’ve never been above begging, even crying as you blink back tears. 

Sevika’s calloused hands cup your face, thump, wiping the little tear on your cheek. “Tell you what. I’ll take you on a date, and we’ll see.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Really?”

And she nods, leaning down to brush her lips against hers. Every ounce of warmth from her mouth shoots down to your cunt, until you’re sure your panties are soaked. A small voice calls out from the front, and Sevika steps back. She gives you a calculated smile before turning and grabbing her bag.

You watch Sevika leave. Eyes trained on her while Jinx makes you, fill a cup with liquid syrup, lining the inside with caramel sauce. You can’t stop thinking about the kiss when she’s gone, and the company car is no longer there. You don’t see her again, but you wait for her. 

The night finally falls, and while you’re supposed to be closing with Ekko, he comes from the back, slinging his baf over his head. “So you’re just going to leave me here alone to close?” you ask, staring at Ekko. 

“Sorry, but I'm supposed to be picking up Jinx from night school. I promised her, I’m… I’m really sorry, man.” He says, and there’s a guilty expression on his face that almost makes you crack up. 

You roll your eyes at him, “I know. She told me this afternoon. I’m fucking with you.”

“You’re a G. Text us when you head home,” And you watch him leave into the night, while you mop the floor and clean the tables. 

It’s while you’re cleaning everything that a sudden feeling of being watched hits your head. The hair on your neck stands up, and you stare outside, seeing nothing but darkness and the outline of the buildings. Paranoia seeps through you, and you practically jump when Sevika opens the door, walking inside. 

Your throat clamps up, and you’re biting the inside of your cheek, fingers tightening around the mop. “Hi…you’re finished with work?” You quickly look at the machines, “Machines are off, ‘m sorry.”

She nods at your word, enjoying how nervous you get around her. “Ahh. No coffee tonight then.” She replies coolly, sitting down, spreading her legs, “How about water?”

You’re quick to drop the mop and grab a bottled water from the small fridge. The only thing you haven’t plugged off. You’re still thinking about the date and most of her words.

“Can…you walk me home today?” You bite the inside of your cheek, shuffling from foot to foot. You don’t want her to think that you can’t protect yourself, but tonight is different. “It’s just really dark…but I under–”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, pinching herself for sounding too excited. You don’t notice and beam at her, mouth hurting from how much you’re grinning at her. 

“Thank you…I just have to finish cleaning, and that’s all.”

You only take a few minutes, and soon, you’re walking out of the quiet shop, while Sevika is on your side. She isn’t wearing her uniform. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, some strands falling to her face, just above her thick eyebrows. She’s in dark blue jeans, steel-toe brown boots, a white tank top stuck to her skin, and a thick jacket that makes her shoulders look even bigger. 

The silence isn’t awkward, but it makes your body heat up, a certain desperation curling behind your spine with a need to hear her voice. “I don’t mind our age difference…”

Your throat bobs, and she smiles, though barely illuminated by the light around you both. “I’m nearly at the age of back pains and muscle aches.”

Her words chime in your head, and you imagine Sevika coming from work, taking off her shirt, flexing her muscles while you roll your fingers into the tension of her muscles. Slowly working them out, while she groans, each deep sound shooting straight to your cunt. 

You laugh, loose and easy, focused on how close you’re walking next to her, “I say you have a couple more years to go before that happens…but if it does happen, I’m sure someone close can soothe them out.”

Sevika hums in acknowledgement, lidded eyes looking down at you, “Certainly.”

You overthink every conversation you’ve had with her, replying to her words, until you’re in front of your building. You stop, and she halts next to you. “This is me…would you like to come inside? I have to thank you for walking me home.”

“Think nothing of it, as long as you're safe.” She says with a shrug, and you catch the movement of her shoes, quickly latching your hand on her shoulder. She pauses, nearly freezing, feeling the coldness of your hand on her skin. 

“Please,” You coax softly, knitting your eyebrows, “I insist.”

And Sevika holds her tongue, simply nodding. “Okay.”

You don’t have much in your apartment. It’s dodgy and small, but your own. Your keys twist, and you push the door, prying it open. Your automatic spray covers the initial scent of mildew, and your rushing inside to hide your t-shirt on the couch, and leftover bowls on the coffee table. 

“Very small,” Sevika grumbles. 

“Yeah, but it’s this or the streets.” You respond with a small laugh, putting down your bag on the couch. “I cooked this apple pie…really good, if you’d like some. I’ll preheat it, and take a quick shower.”

She nods, and you work around the kitchen putting the glass pan sheet inside the oven. You grab a water bottle, pop it open and hand it to her, staring at her hand until it lands on the bottle, on top of yours. Your shower is quick, lathering every inch with a flowery scented soap, until you feel clean enough.

You’ve never really tried to be sexy for someone, besides a couple of people you tried to talk to. A shitty ex and bad sex revolted you from the dating scene until Sevika. You put on a pair of black boxers that fit tight and short enough it’s snug against your ass. A sheer black lacy bra, and a complementary sheer black long rope with beige lace detailing on the sleeves and hem. 

You push your nerves out, walking out to the living room, and catching Sevika in the kitchen, cutting a piece of the pie. “It’s really go–” she stops, eyes taking in your clothing, “Good. It’s really good.”

“Really? I’ve been trying new recipes as of lately, you have to try my garlic butter shrimp scampi. It’s very good,” And you tell her all that, until you’re in the kitchen, mere inches away from her, fingers itching to touch her jacket. 

Sevika hums, and you reach for the fridge, grabbing the can of whipped cream, and inching toward her, shaking the can, as she looks at you, eyes darting from your eyes to your tits. “Whip cream?”

She visibly gulps, and you’re nearly on your knees, if not for her taking the can from your hand. “My doll is very hospitable.”

My doll. My doll. My doll.’

Mydoll.

Your pussy clenches around nothing. “You’re mean.” You whisper to her as the hiss of the can curls in your ear. She smiles, cheeks bubbling, and she shakes her head at your words. 

“Am I? I should be telling you that,” And she stops, leaning her side on the counter, eyes staring you down. Her hand come to your robe, thumbing the lace, tracing it until it crosses to your skin, and you’re taking a deep breath, as her skin touches yours. “Dressed all pretty…”

You want her to take advantage of you–not that, that would be the correct word, given how willing you are. But you need her to touch you even through her guilt. Your hand wraps around her wrist, pulling them to your breast, until she’s got a hand grabbing it. And she squeezes, just soft enough, that a shudder crosses your spine. 

Your ragged breath matches hers, and your eyes flutter open and closed, catching a look at a tent on her jeans. “I want this...you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me.”

“As if you cared if I did.” She snarls, hand disappearing to the back of your neck, as she leans down. You take a breath, feeling her tongue push into your mouth, sucking on your tongue, as she pushes you into the counter. 

She licks along your teeth, moving to suck on your bottom lip, nipping at it, until you’re giving her a soft whine. Your hardened peaks rub against the soft material of your bra, and your hand curls along her jeans, touching her belt. 

Your hips push into hers, the material of her belt cold against your warm skin. Each glide of her tongue against yours, as you whine, soft sighs falling until she groans, and you nearly feel her chest vibrate.

 Sevika’s hand glides to your chin, cupping it as she pulls away, a line of spit connecting your lips. “Want to make that pretty mouth useful for me, doll?” She purrs, and you nod, letting her steer your body to the living room. 

Coldness launches across your skin when you sink to your knees, and she sits on the couch, thighs spreading while her cock pushes into her jeans. Sevika leans back, hands on her sides, a faint red blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t move, but your shaky hands dart to her belt, while the crackle of metal sounds so loud in your ear. 

You’re softly shaking, but you unhook her belt, working her buttons until they’re undone. There’s a wet patch on her briefs, and you’re so fucking needy, pushing your head to her tent, inhaling the strong scent of musk, earth and skin. 

Your tongue touches her through the briefs, scraping the cotton material and salivating on it, while Sevika sighs into the air. You pull back, pushing her boxers down, letting her cock spring out, and her stomach twitches as you run a hand across her jean-clad thigh. 

The tip of her cock gleams with wetness, pouring from the angry red slit, and a thick patch of curly hair surrounds her cock. You lick the head, delivering small kitten licks across while you have a hand on her shaft, and the other settles on her thigh.

Her salty taste curls across your taste buds, and you pull back, tongue switching to lap at her balls, sucking on one until a deep groan pours from her mouth, while specks of hair scrape against your skin. “That’s it, doll. Should’ve fucked your mouth…this afternoon.”

You lick up to the shaft, wrapping a hand around the head as you swirl your tongue on the cockhead. Spit darts from your mouth, and your eyes shoot up to her as your hand coats it all over her shaft. Sevika’s bottom lip is etched between her teeth, and her chest heaves up and down, while you slowly slip her inside your mouth, hand still working, pumping up and down. 

A loud moan curls from her throat, and her hips buck into your mouth, pressing so fucking deep, until she’s occupying every inch of your mouth. You can’t take much of her, she’s too fucking big, but you work her through, cupping her ball, and hollering your cheeks. 

Her hand grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing you off her cock, spit drilling down your chin. And she’s breathing heavily, eyes lidded and blown. “Open.”

Your tongue darts out, mouth open, and she’s smirking, ends of her lips curling as she slaps her cock on your tongue. Every rational thought has swooped out of your brain, lusting, curling along the ridges of your brain. “Maybe I should take you to work, have you be my little desk pet…keep your mouth full, and head empty, would you like that, baby?”

Your head bobs up and throws, eyes gone, tongue still out as spit accumulates and slides from the end of the muscle. You fear you won’t be able to live without the taste of Sevika’s cock on your tongue, and she knows this, because she’s grinning like she’s just won the fucking lottery. 

And she leans closer to you, hand still gripping a fist full of your hair, until she’s pulling just enough that it makes you moan, needy and high-pitched. Her cock twitches, “Please,” You gasp wetly, “fuc–fuck my...mouth.”

“You’ll need to earn it.” Her boots push in between your thigh, the end of it touching your cunt, just slightly. “Go on.”

Humiliation rattles through your bones, and you straddle the boot, pressing your chin on her kneecap, digging into the meat of her knee. Your hands wrap around her leg, pressing yourself down, focused on the tendrils of pleasure as you press all the way down. “Feels…good. So so go–good.”

You try to ride her boot, gasping at the light pressure against your folds, nails digging into the texture of her jeans. It’s infuriating how the pleasure curls against your spine, then fizzes away, every time Sevika moves her boot, purposely trying to see you writhe against her leg.

“Sev…” You whimper, eyes fluttering open, and you’re completely focused on the pleasure, drooling on Sevika’s jeans, to pay attention to your system. You work in motions, eyes in and out of focus, sometimes watching Sevika’s smile. 

“Doesn’t it feel good, Doll?” She rasps, and you can see her cock twitch against the white tank top, while your tongue salivates, and small tremors rip against your skin. “Just a little more…I won’t touch your pretty cunt until you’ve left a print on my boot.”

And she finally presses her boot against your cunt, with the right amount of pressure pressed against your clit that has you moaning, eyebrows knitted, and cunt clenching. Your legs burn, hips bucking into her boot, while you’re slipping into a soft headspace, trying to keep your mind afloat.

Sevika makes it so difficult, petting your hair while precum coats her cock, and she’s whispering sweet praises at you. “My pretty doll, stick your tongue out, doll.”

A condescending laugh rings across your fuzzy brain, and she’s watching spit pool down, until two fingers glide inside your mouth. You clamp down, lips wrapping around her thick fingers, and she’s pushing inside, feeling the rough pad of your tongue on her fingers. 

Your hips stutter, stomach twitching as warmth slowly pours along your flesh, and you’re louder and louder, hips grinding your clit down with intensity while trying to choke on her fingers. Spit dribbles down the corner of your mouth, licking her and tasting the saltiness of her flesh. 

“That’s it,” Sevika whispers, “Keep fucking yourself on my boot. Isn’t this what you wanted? To fuck yourself on an old pervert like me.”

Lighting strikes across your spine, and you clamp down, hips jerking as you cum on her boot, a high-pitched mewl making your chest vibrate. Your body melts against her leg, the aftershock of your orgasm making your clit twitch. Your mind is fuzzy, slipping and sliding across the pleasure, drinking in Sevika. “So good for me…you deserve a reward for that.”

“Need,” You rasp, throat dry, and she moves her hand to the bottle on the coffee table. The liquid slides down your throat, freshening your hot flesh. “Ple–please…need yo–you in my mouth.”

Her hands wrap around your wrist, stopping you from reaching her cock. You’re all fucked out on her legs, breathing heavily, begging for her cock, and Sevika is close to cumming. Because this feels exactly like one of her many wet dreams, yet you pout at her, pupils dilated, “Please.”

And she’s so fucking weak for you, letting go of your wrist and leaning back down to the couch, as your lips attach to the head of her cock. Each action is done clumsily, too needy, yet Sevika holds in her sanity, fingers gripping the couch, as you suck on the head of her cock, lidded eyes staring at her. 

It’s as if the last measure of embarrassment left your system, leaving nothing but need and want. Your hand reach for Sevika’s, pushing it to your head, and her hips buck, drowning you in her cock, until halfway in, and the head reaches just an inch away from the back of your throat.

You keen at each of her groans and deep moans, filling your ear and the air. It’s blinding, how much you need her, when you finally pull off with a deep breath, spit circles her cockhead, attaching it to your mouth. “Just a little more…” Sevika murmurs, pushing you back on her cock, all the way down, until the oxygen in your brain slowly depletes, and you feel her everywhere, eyes rolling back. 

Your hips flex, pushing down, searching for some relief for the ache building in your pussy.  Your body goes lax, hands lying on your side, while Sevika moans, keeping your head down on her cock as she twitches around your throat.

When she pulls you off, your eyes are unfocused, pawing at her knees, whimpering, and she gets off on it, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make you feel better.” She croons. 

Sevika pulls the robe off your body, scooping you off the floor and into her arms. You press kisses across her cheek, down her neck, licking and nipping at her skin, trying to make it red. She drops you on the bed, letting you softly bounce, before she shrugs off her clothing, letting the clink of her belt hit the floor. 

Your eyes rake over Sevika’s body, mouth watering at her brown, hard peaks, and how her cock twitches, curving to the left. “You’re a pervert…trying to undress me,” You whine out, meekly trying to cover your body, as Sevika crawls to you, “You’re taking advantage of me.”

“Am I?” She purrs, and there’s a short flash of guilt as you look at her with your pretty-does eyes, breath shallow, and spit slowly drying in the corner of your mouth. She’s going to defile you, like she’s done to the lacy underwear she’s taken from your drawers. Not that you need to know. “Tell me to stop.”

Sevika’s hands reach for your shorts, slowly pulling them down, waiting for you to push her off, or for the words to hit her eardrum, yet you watch, helping her pull them down, heat rising to your chest as a slick connects your pussy to the shorts. The warmth of Sevika’s skin makes you shudder, and you’re reaching for her tits as she rams her mouth on yours, and it’s all teeth and tongue–unlike the kisses you’ve had before.

Filthy, wet and noisy, pulling little whines out of you while she groans into your mouth. “Months of dre–dreaming of you…fucking me,” You whimper, against Sevika’s mouth, a little hazy, from the pleasure. 

“Really?” Sevika asks, as if she’s bewildered by the idea of you dreaming of her. You nod eagerly as she lowers her lips to your jaw, kissing and breathing you in.

Her tongue licks the sweat on your flesh, nipping the skin, until you’re whining, and each breath sounds punched out. “Don’t worry…I’ll give you the real thing.”

She keeps going lower, kissing along your chest until her mouth is on one of your hardened peaks, and you gasp, feeling her suckle on it. Her tongue twirls, her other hand coming to pinch and play with your other nipple, making your clit twitch. “Sev…”

You squirm in the sheets, feet softly kicking, and Sevika takes her time, rotating between your tits, until they’re puffy and sensitive, a single touch making you moan and whimpers. Her teeth graze at the peak, softly biting them, and it makes your stomach swoop with heat. Your cunt pulses, the aching feeling becoming unbearable, yet your brain melts. 

You can barely utter words, too entranced in the pleasure, until Sevika’s away, and she’s back to trailing kisses along the bottom of your tits. She reaches your naval, nose pressing into a thick patch of hair, and she moves down and down, until she’s breathing against your pussy. A little whine pours from your mouth when her fingers dip down, pulling your wet folds apart, watching slick coat your pussy. 

“You’re dripping, aching for someone to touch you?” Sevika coos, “All needy for me,” and you shut your eyes, nodding dumbly, until Sevika’s tongue licks your clit. You try your hardest not to clamp your thighs, but she’s pressing her face in and in, sucking the swollen, pulsing bud.

A loud whimper bounces on the wall, making Sevika groan, and the vibrations curl against your spine, making your hip buck into her mouth. 

“Fuc–fuck, sev…sev, feels–” Your mouth tumbles over the words, as Sevika licks deeper into you, flattening her tongue, and licking from your sopping hole to your needy clit. She hums to every one of your reactions, fucking you with her tongue, then fluidly moving to suck on the bud.

A filthy squelch rings in your eardrum, and Sevika’s hand on your hip disappears into your legs. Your eyes rush to see her, yet she’s focused on your pleasure, eyes closed as a finger slides so fucking easily inside you, you barely feel it until it curls, pressing that spot.

You moan, loud and whiny, blinking back tears, while she quietly slips another finger in, curling them both and fucking into the spongy spot. “Nnng, har–harder, please. Please…” you hiccup, hand flying to grip Sevika’s short hair, trying to press down. “‘m clo–close.”

Your vision blurs, fat tears rolling down freely, and Sevika savors your pussy, assaulting your clit, until warm spreads across your stomach, and your muscles are tightening. Your pussy clenches against her fingers, and she continues pressing them in, sliding and out of your walls, then curling them. 

Heat pools in your lower back, muscles burning, until everything jolts and your eyes are crossing, waves of pleasure rolling through your system. Your spine lifts from the bed, foot pressing down, indenting the mattress, until it feels too much. Your cunt spasms, and your body softly twitches, until Sevika pulls away, chin wet.

“Did so good for me,” She whispers, kissing your cheek, leaving a trail of wetness on your cheek. You lean up to kiss her, whining into her mouth as she pries you open with her tongue. You can faintly taste yourself on her tongue, and it’s filthy. “So pretty, like this…all fucked out and crying.” 

Sevika pulls away from your mouth, a hand gripping your waist, and the other slapping her cock against the skin of your stomach. “Big…”

Sevika smirks, moving her hips until she’s grinding her cock against your wet pussy, mixing in your slick with her precum. She’s dripping, balls full, trying to keep her composure, while he presses the head against your clit, grinding on it. Your feet kick, hips twitching from slight overstimulation. “You’ll be my good doll, and fit it in, won’t you?” She groans, fingers tightening her grip on your waist.

You hum, clutching the bed sheet, nodding dumbly, trying to slip her inside you. “Please,” and Sevika finally presses the head inside you. A whimper falls from your lips, and Sevika bucks her hips, forcing herself into you. 

“Breathe, doll,” She murmurs, big hands slipping to the back of your thighs, folding them, and pressing them just close enough to feel the heat of your own skin against your stomach. 

She leaves you in that position, and you don’t move, not even when she has only one hand on the back of your thigh, and the other reaching down you pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles, slowly inching inside you. The feeling of fullness makes you delirious.

“Sev…mo–more,” Your words slur, brain working too slow to form a proper thought. And when she finally presses all the way inside, you whimper. Your cunt feels so fucking stretched out, and you’re sure you’re dripping. 

“I know, doll,” she coaxes, “I know…don’t worry, ‘m going to break you in until you can’t fuck anyone but me.” Her hips buck, finally moving in a slow, languid pace, then picking up speed until her hips are hitting the flesh of your ass. 

Your pussy sletches, wet sounds making you even more fucking aroused, because it’s almost as if your cunt is speaking to her. “Fas–faster.” 

And Sevika snarls, fast thrusts, rocking you forward into the bed, making your tits bounce with every movement, while you’re taking big breaths, each moan and whimper punched out. “Your pussy is swallowing me in,” she groans, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you’re clenching around Sevika, eyes unfocused but taking in her beauty. Sweaty body, and the strands of hair sticking to her forehead as her lidded eyes watch her cock disappear inside you. 

Little ah, ah, ahs spill out of your mouth, nails digging into the mattress, until heat curls in your spine, you feel too stupid to worry about the spit dribbling at the corner of your mouth. You’re addicted–will be addicted, because Sevika is fucking you like she’s imagined this a million times, and mapped exactly where to buck into. 

The head of cock shifts, plunging into that spot again, leaving you breathless, and so so fucking floaty. Small hiccups leave your lips, and tears stream down your cheek, smudging in the small dashes of eyeliner, leaving a faint black smudge of tears. Sevika looks up, and she moans seeing how wrecked you look for her.  

“Squeezing me…so tight,” Sevika moans, “What is it, baby? Want me to fill you up?” And she gasps, feeling you tighten again around her cock. Jackpot. Your back arches, cunt pulsing, head swimming in the thought of Sevika filling up your belly, leaving some of her inside you. 

“Nngg ye–yes,” You gasp, “Inside…inside.” 

Your body trembles, thigh muscles shaking until you can see your skin twitch, and Sevika’s so fuckiing loud, damn near in your groaning and moaning at the pace of your own whiny, high-pitched mewls. “Come…come stay with me. Move in with me,” Sevika breathes out, “Be my wife…my…my pretty bride. C’mon, say you’ll come with, and I’ll let you cum.”

Oh, god.

Your eyes roll, nodding and nodding, trying to make small coherent yes’s and only babbling, but Sevika sees. And she grins, mouth wide, pushing in deeper and faster, until your nerves are on fire, and hypersensitive, body tightening. 

Your toes spread out into the air, and your pussy gushes on Sevika’s cock, coating it in clear liquid. A choked sob rings in the air, and you feel drunk and high at the same time, as flashes of your ceiling and Sevika’s face cross your eyes. Every muscle in your body seizes, and a deep, guttural groan rings, until you feel so so fucking full. 

Sevika empties herself inside you, teeth reaching down to your calf, etching into your skin until pain shoots through your spine. When she pulls away, there’s a mark, and she's still fucking into you, riding her own high and fucking yours out, until you’re twitching. 

Your mind is pliant and fuzzy, body lax on the body, while every move is in slow motion, in and out of view. A long moment of silence passes, and your body is still shuddering, thigh twitching, brain slowly coming to work. Soreness picks at your skin, and you suddenly feel empty, too empty. “Need to clean you, doll.” A voice murmurs next to your ear. 

After a beat, you’re cold, and your eyes finally flutter open, while Sevika is wiping you down. She’s radiating, pupils blown, with a hazy smile on her lips. Her eyes snap to yours, and she leans down to press a kiss on your stomach, then on your forehead, “My sweet doll, so perfect. So good for me. ‘m gonna take care of you.”

“You…bit me?” You gasp out, and she darts to the waterbottle on the nightstand, lifting your head, until you’re drinking in small sips. Your insides cool, and Sevika’s still staring at you, a little unfocused and wild. 

She hums, “Yeah. You belong to me now. You’ll live with me…sleep with me, shower with me.” And her words are so soft, yet firm to the point they rattle your bones, making you sink into the bed. “You said yes.” 

You aren’t sure of what to do. Somehow your brain can’t come up with any scenarios in which you’re apart from Sevika, and it feels so, so suffocating, and exhilarating, you’re crying again. Sevika croons at you, hand wrapping around your chin, licking your tear, “Shh…don’t cry, doll. I can’t have my wife crying…now, tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” You whimper, voice faltering, a shiver running down your spine. “Belong to you, and only you. ‘m your wife.”

You do move out of your shitty apartment, somewhere near Moonbuck. It’s sort of a hazy memory, the way Sevika inserts herself into your life, like she’s meant to be there by divine or human intervention. Like she’s etched her place beside you, and glued you to her skin. 

You find your ‘lost’ panties a month into moving with her, and she doesn’t deny anything, and you don’t fight about it. But again, it’s not like you’re able to when she shoves them in your mouth and bends you over the counter, recounting every detail about how she protected you, her pretty barista, throughout those months. 

The first time you meet Sevika, you consider it a...change in fate. You were fifteen, lounging in bed, when a rough, soft voice echoed in the kitchen. Your father had never brought over company; something in you believed that after your mother left, he simply found it difficult to bring people around. When you stalked down the wooden stairs, you sat on top, fingers tracing over the cracks on the floor.

You only saw Sevika from behind. Her hair was somewhat longer than it is now, and she had fewer muscles but still looked strong. She walked as if life itself was already too heavy for her, and as your father offered a seat at the dining table and rambled, her eyes moved to the stairs. You were covered by the darkness of the hallway, and to this day, you’re not sure if she saw you.

But you did look into her eyes, nearly losing yourself in the stark, cold grayness of their eyes. Your eyes raked over every crevice of her body, staring at her nose, the marks on her brown skin, and her arm. Her mechanical arm. You admired the shine on the metal and how it glowed softly, before letting out a soft huff of steam.

Sevika was the reason for your interest in all things mechanical. Throughout the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks you spent thumbing over metal parts, you wondered about her. How her arm felt, how she maneuvered herself, and if she felt the phantom sensation of her arm despite it being gone.

You enjoyed thinking about her. Maybe a bit too much.

Around your eighteenth birthday, a month after you started an apprenticeship, in some underground mechanic shop, your father started talking about Sevika. He’d mention her in tidbits because, despite having always wanted to leave Zaun, it was more like a dream for people, an achievable goal. His best friend for three years, he said.

The reason he had a job after, the last one threw him out. You never really asked about his work, but when he mentioned her name, you finally asked. A rather guilty expression turned in his face, and he gave you a sad smile, “Just this and that.” He replied, and then he’d talk about her. When he showed you a picture of her, you stared at the picture for the longest time.

She looked different. Older, more handsome, and beautiful, like the years have done her better than before. You focused on the smile lines of Sevika’s face, and how it seemed to be turned into a scowl, and your favorite, her grey eyes. You can now describe the feeling of seeing Sevika as the daze your body has when you’re drunk, and trying to sleep—like your body is out of control and everything you feel seems to be slipping through your fingers.

“Do you ever show her pictures of me?” You asked, and he paused for a second, thinking and thinking.

He nodded, “Yeah, I showed her the picture Cleo took when you started working,” and he perked up, taking out a photo of you holding a torch, standing next to a small robot, on a table with an awkward smile painted on your face.

Sevika comes over the next day, per your father's request. As you’re plating everything, making sure every piece of food looks edible and presentable, the click of the front door rings, and a set of heavy boots softly thud, before they come to a halt behind you. You figure it was your father, but when you turn, grey eyes stare back at you.

Your body froze, fingers twitching, and you never moved from your spot, the heat of the plates softly burning your skin. You found it even harder to breathe as she looked at you, and a feeling of unease washed over your body. How can someone whom you’ve barely even met make you feel so...dizzy?

So not in control of anything, not even your breathing, and the mechanical functions of your body. From the other end of the house, your father closes a door, and he’s nearly dashing to Sevika, “You made it.” He gleamed, and she looked at him, as a smirk slowly curled in her lips, showing you a tiny gap between her teeth.

For a second, you wondered how her mouth tasted. How she’d kiss...was she rough? Soft? Do her hands wander as she holds you? Your throat bobbed, saliva pooling in your throat. “Dad, food is done.” You say, voice coming out a little cracked.

Your father’s smile widened, and he rushed to your side, hugging you, “My daughter, the one I always talk about.”

Sevika hummed, “Looks like you.”

“You think so?” Your father responds, though a faint redness can be seen on his face, “The light of my life.”

“Dad.”And he stopped, as he steered Sevika to the dining table, then helped you set it. You watched Sevika, from your peripheral view, while your father spilled his guts as he poured amber liquid into his and Sevika’s cup. He loosened, and somehow Sevika did too.

They spoke about random crap, you did not care much for, often only listening to the small references of the bar in the Lane district. When the metal bottle was finally empty, your father’s eyes were red and lidded, barely opened. He wobbled and wobbled until you had to help him into his room. His soft snoring rang in every direction.

Sevika barely moved, and from the end of the stairs, you stared at her back, waiting. She rose slowly, making the wooden chair scrape against the floor, and you walked behind her, fingers ghosting over her body until she took a step back, falling into your hands. Her head snapped to you, and she gave you a smirk, “Trying to...catch me, kid.”

And you nodded, moving her to the worn-out couch, nearly falling on top of her when she let go of her weight, pulling down with her. You pulled your arm from behind her, letting her arm rest around your neck, nearly pulling you into her body. Her head rolled from side to side, and she stayed still for a moment, breathing, turning soft and even.

You lingered next to her, nose pushing into her clothing, smelling smoke and liquor. Your hand brushed around her metal arm, extending until you poked and prodded around, nearly feeling the drumming of the machine underneath your skin. And you touched everywhere, finally looking at her face.

You knew there was something wrong with you. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it that day. Your lips brushed against her temple, clothing rustling, while Sevika softly breathed. And your lips trailed down her cheek, until they touched her lips. A soft sigh fell from your throat, and you pressed again, and again.

Heat curled around your body, spine turning taunt with bliss. A small grunt echoed out of her body, and you pressed your body against hers, nearly letting your weight fall, trying to feel every inch of her skin on your own. You stayed there for minutes, until it turned into an hour, hearing the soft thud of her heart.

Your father kept bringing Sevika over, but you tried to avoid her. You pushed yourself into work, spending most of your time at the shop. Sometimes you wouldn’t even go home, only spending an hour or two in the afternoon to cook something for your father, then rushing outside. You jumped from shop to street, lounging around, avoiding the memory and the flashes of guilt.

There were times you’d walk home, and they’d be there, but you’d rush past them, taking a shower and pushing your body to sleep. And that kept going, while your curiosity about her never dulled. Around your twentieth birthday, two days afterwards, Sevika comes to Cleo’s shop.

You were mostly focused on an order for a magnet glove when Cleo passed by with a mechanical arm in her hand. It was a silver one, the one she had been working on in her spare time for those who came looking for such a thing. She smiles at it, pale cheeks turning slightly pink.

You only really got up when a strong, deep voice called out her name. They spoke for a few seconds, and you inched closer just near the wall opening, catching a glimpse of a large back and short hair pulled into a ponytail—exactly like Sevika’s, that was your first thought.

Cleo turned, pointing to the mechanical arm and the woman’s arm. “C’mon, Sevika, I worked really hard...at least try it.”

You stood on the other end of the wall, listening to the slow murmur of their conversation and the occasional hums and words falling from Sevika’s lips. You found her demeanor to be still as rough as before and yet...you couldn’t stop thinking about her. In an odd way, you found the soft roughness of her voice soothing, like a lullaby or the rumbling of the city, that lulls you to sleep.

“Does she come here often?” You asked Cleo two hours after Sevika left.

Cleo looked at you for a second, brown eyes narrowing, and she tilted her head, “Sevika?” You nod, and she moves from the table, giving you a small shrug. “Sometimes. Why?”

“I think my dad works with her…” You murmur, tightening the screw of a lamp. The light flickers on it, and it blinks white for a second before turning yellow, “What does she do?”

Cleo pauses, “She’s Silco’s right-hand.”

“The…” The words die in your throat before you can say crime lord, or anything that represented the many rumors you’ve heard. The Eye of Zaun. The Industrialist. You heard stuff about him and about Sevika, too, though you always left or rushed out before they could ever keep uttering nonsense. But maybe they were telling the truth.

“Yes.”

Much of what you learn about Sevika was because of Cleo. Sometimes she’d throw in a piece of information like the explosion that caused her to lose her arm, or about her strong personality, and rumored preference for women. You’d be lying if you said you never imagined her, next to you while you slept. It made you lose your mind, just how easily she took over your head.

When you showered, you could almost always faintly hear her behind you. The ghosting press of her arm against your skin, until you bend down, cheek pressed against the tile, and mouth her name. Sometimes when you lie in bed, staring at the broken, half-fixed ceiling, she’d appear in the corner of your eyes. A cigar in her mouth, smoke curling around her while you slowly stripped, legs open, waiting for her to move.

You walk into Cleo’s shop around nine in the morning. About two days after you asked Cleo about Sevika’s work. You find her, looking through spare parts, while the summer heat blares through the dirty windows, shining on the table.

“I heard Sevika works at that bar...The Last Drop?”

Cleo pushes a crushed arm out of her way before humming, “Yeah, at Lane district...talking about Last Drop, there’s a delivery arranged. You want to try taking it?”

“You trust me that much now?” You ask, with a small smile, grabbing your coat and the special badge Cleo carries around.

She scoffs, “Can’t have you holed up here all the time.” She disappears into the back room, before she’s coming back out with a box and a small bag. “Delivery, and look for one of the working girls called ‘Pinky’ and check the wiring in her leg.”

You nod, taking the box and the bag. “I’ll try to last too long.”

“You work hard. Get yourself a drink.” And you smile at her words, before leaving the shop. The heat crackled against your skin, and sweat poured down your temple as you walked through the damp sewer system and the old buildings. The smell of the street is a mix of oil and something putrid, but it cuts the forty-five-minute walk into twenty-five.

When you arrive at The Last Drop, there are people outside, and you can hear the jeers and yells. There’s a small amount of sweat sliding down your head into your back, and you walk inside, nose crunching at the smell of cigarettes and sweat. You move through bodies before spotting your father towards the back, at a card table, while Sevika deals.

Her mechanical fingers flip the cards, passing them out at such speed you can’t follow along. Your father smiles next to her, and she’s smoking, a smirk painted on her lips. You stare at the table for a second, a part of you hoping he’d see you. 

You walk away from the crowded front, before your father looks up, and you hand the box to a short, stout woman before asking for “Pinky.” She points to some doors, and the lights flicker as you rush through them. 

You’re not prepared to see women pampering themselves, fixing their hair, and changing with each other while the smell of floral perfume lingers in the air. Some of them are naked, some are wearing pretty lingerie, hair puffed up with red lips, and pretty eye shadows. Their eyes land on you, a moment of awkwardness at your sudden appearance. 

Perhaps this is the type Sevika likes. Pretty and pampered, someone who smells of coconut, and paints their cheeks. A rush of jealousy curls against your spine. “Is Pinky here?”

A young woman moves from a closet, with bright pink long hair and a mechanical leg on one side. “Cleo sent you?”

“Yes,” And you wiggle the bag in the air as she signals for you to walk to her. You move past the pretty girls, eyes lingering on their outfits and the way they murmur with each other. Pinky walks you to another connected room, and she sits down, pulling a fluffy coat to her body.

You open the bag, your hands landing on screw drives and whatever equipment Cleo nudged inside the bag. “What’s wrong?”

Pinky shrugs, “The big toe won’t flex,” and you watch as the faux mechanical toes all move, except for the big one. You kneel in front of her, fingertips gliding along the cool metal and black wiring, lining down to her metal ankle.

You work on the wiring, making Pinky flex and move, until you’re halfway done. The click on the door is soft, and it opens, and from behind you, Pinky smiles. Her cheeks turn red, nearly matching the color of her lips. “Sevy, have you come to greet me? Lost the game?”

You try not to look behind you, and you pace yourself while Pinky talks, and the thud of Sevika’s shoes steps behind you. Sevika’s voice rings behind you, and she feels so close, you’re sure if you step back, you’d collide with her. “No, I’m here to make sure everything is alright.”

You hold your breath, “Finished. Try not to get the wiring wet for at least a day. The drying coat needs time to settle in.”

“Something happened to the leg?” Asks Sevika, and she walks to your side, while you move in the opposite direction, hiding your face.

Pinky hums, “Malfunction or something. Nothing new.”

You’re quick to grab your bag, and you’re moving to leave until a hand curls around your arm, and you’re twirled around, back hitting a table, knocking a bottle over. The push pulls a gasp out of you, and you’re staring into Sevika’s grey eyes, while she’s looking into yours, eyes narrowed. There’s a cigarette in her mouth, and the light gleams red, so fucking close to your face.

“Y/N…” She murmurs, and it comes out so soft and deep, like she’s begging you. Like you’ve known and talked to each other for years, like she’s done something wrong, and needs you to forgive her. A sliver of ash falls from her cigarette as your mouth opens. You try to say something, but nothing comes out.

From the corner of your eye, Pinky is leaning back into her seat, “You two know each other?”

“Yes”

“No.” You respond, and your voices mingle with each other, answering Pinky at the same time. Sevika’s eyes twitch, and her hands feel so warm on your skin, as if she’s rubbed them together or hovered them over a fire. It’s electric. “Let me go.” You whisper, the words ringing between you and her.

Her hands drop, and your skin turns cold. A part of you misses the warmth. The jolt of heat that rushed through your spine when her fingers touched you. You ducked your head, avoiding eye contact until you walked outside the bar, finally taking a breath.

Sevika comes back the next day, early in the afternoon, when Cleo is out and about trying to haggle for mechanical parts in the south of Zaun. You clean the shop, though not many come through, except for the couple of people who had a previous arrangement with Cleo and fixed their issue with you. You’re handling a mechanical eye that gleams bright red before the little bells on the door ring.

You don’t pay much attention to the door, gloved hands placing the eyes in an enclosed compartment. “There’s no mechanical replacement available today...only scheduled pickups.”

“How about a checkup?”

You twirl around, nearly dropping the box, as you see Sevika. “Cleo didn’t mention you’d come.”

She moves from the foot of the door, her red shawl moving with each movement, and the thud of her shoes makes goosebumps rise on your flesh. She smiles at you, though it almost seems kind of mocking. “We’ve known each other for years...I thought I’d be given a better response yesterday.”

You press your lips to a thin line, “I was working.”

Her head tilts, “So you avoided me?”

Your throat bobs, and you place the compartment down, wiping your hands, before taking out a seat at the table. “I wasn’t trying to avoid you. I just...I didn’t want to intrude between you and your gir—”

“Friend,” Sevika interjects, and she stops in front of you, eyes raking over your frame before taking a seat at the table, legs spread open. “She’s my friend. Nothing more.”

There’s a brief silence in which you simply stare at her, then at her arm. “What can I do for you?”

Her eyes narrow, and she licks her lips, “Just maintenance. Check the wiring. Make sure everything is good.”

You move from the table, feeling Sevika’s eyes laser-focused on the back of your head. Since that day, each of your actions has been calculated. You think extra hard before even moving left or right, trying to avoid the rumble of guilt and the feeling of mistake. With each pacing second, you feel as though Sevika is shining a giant light on you, while you’re in a dark room watching you, waiting for a reaction.

When you walk back to the table, you put down Cleo’s bag, opening it to find the usual items, to pry Sevika’s mechanical arm open. “Since you’ve been avoiding me, you’ll have to make it up to me...I don’t think your father would be too happy to know you’re being mean to me.”

Your eyes flicker to hers, looking back down as you reach for her arm. The metal is cold, with colors of dark green and rust, while a bright purple radiation gleams from the inside. Her metal fingers are sharp and long, bigger than her flesh fingers. “How?”

Her shoulders shrug, “I don’t know. Maybe you will have to show me the stuff you’ve built. Maybe you will do me a favor…I’ll tell you later. You building anything new here?”

“Something's...here and there. Nothing interesting.” You respond, and you take your time checking the wiring on her mechanical arms. When you’re finished, your fingers rake over the metal work, praying into the small empty spaces between the metals. Just like before. “Though I’ve fixed a couple of mechanical and shimmer-powered arms.”

“Do they ask for you specifically?”

You shake your head, “No. My work is not that well-known…”

When you look up, her grey eyes are dilated, darkness eating her grey irises, and her chest heaves up and down, breathing shallow. And you realize that your tendency to run away from Sevika isn’t because of her, but rather because of your lack of self-control.

When she’s near, you run on impulse. Searching and searching for her to give you a reaction, a sliver of attention. Anything that tells you that she sees you. That she needs you. “You have a beautiful arm…” You whisper to her, and her lips part for a second. With Sevika, it’s as if your brain refuses to calculate. You have to act.

You grab onto the hand of her arm, and you spread her metal fingers pressing them against your cheek, until you shudder, and it’s as if you’ve dunked yourself in cold water. Sevika’s fingers flex, and they latch onto your cheek, thumb pressing into your skin. “Y/N…”

She says your name as sweetly as she did the day before. Soft and pulled slowly from her lungs, each syllable dripping with heat. You hum, eyes flutter while you nuzzle your cheek into the cold metal. “Are you worried about hurting me? It feels nice.”

Sevika is frozen. Transfixed. Like if her brain is taking its time processing your actions, trying to make sense of you. The metal twitches, digging into your skin, and you press into it until a sliver of pain shoots down your spine, and you softly hiss. 

The pressure of her metal finger pulls away, quickly and roughly, accidentally slicing a line into your skin. It takes a second for your cheek to feel cold and damp. “Jesus,” Sevika breathes, and she’s moving, eyes searching for a towel or anything, while your finger touches the small wound, a sliver of red gleaming on your fingers. 

You barely have any time to react to it before she’s tilting your head, pressing a napkin into it. “Your father will be pis—”

“Do you only date the women you work with?” Your throat bobs, hand flying to clutch the red shawl, and her jean blood mixing in with the material. You swear you feel her warm skin through her washed-out jeans.

Sevika says nothing, while your words echo in the shop. And she blinks at you, before the skin of her cheek twitches. “What did you say?”

You don’t understand if her question is rhetorical or if she really didn’t hear you, but you repeat the question, while the material of the napkin is pressed on you. “Do you only date the women you work with?”

“Your father and I ar—”

“My question has nothing to do with my father. Do you?”

She maneuvers your hand to press on the napkin, and she takes a step back. Your hand falls from her shawl, and she turns, footsteps ringing as she walks away from you, hand flexing next to her. They open and close, forming a fist, and as the bell of the door dings, Sevika disappears.

You whisper her name into the air later that day. You sink into your fingers, face pressed into your ugly green pillow, muffling your whimpers and choked sobs, while you think about Sevika. Each scenery is filthier than the last.

Her using you in each room of The Last Drop, you sitting on her lap, belly full with her faux cock while she plays a poker game, her keeping you naked in her work office, ready to relieve her stress anytime she’d ask. Each scenario replaying over and over, while you thumb your swollen, puffy clit, wishing she could see you.

You don’t work the next day; instead, you lounge around the house, itching to fix anything mechanical, anything that reminds you of Sevika’s arm. A friend of yours comes around when your father is gone, and he sits on the old couch, “So you and me, equals Last Drop, tonight.”

“I thought you had no money.”

He shrugs, “Poker game tonight. I feel lucky, and yes, I checked that your father isn’t working tonight. So no hiding.”

You sit next to him, old boots pressing into the space under the table, “What are you betting in your poker game?”

“I heard Sevika is playing tonight, so...maybe my board, but the one that glows. Looks expensive, but really it’s cheap.”

“Me.”

Your friend quirks his eyebrows, “Huh?”

“Bet me. Don’t bet your hoverboard. I offer myself as the...money tonight.”

He laughs, and laughs, rolling in place, and wiping away a tear while you stare at him. When he stops, he realizes you aren’t fucking around, and his throat bobs. “Are you...serious?”

“Yes,” You breathe out, excitement drumming through your veins, nearly envisioning Sevika in front of you. You argue with him for a good hour about the novelties and the ethics and whatnot about his betting you in a poker game. Something about his consciousness not allowing him, until you spill about Sevika.

When he finally understands, he leans back into the couch, nails drumming on his paint-stained pants, “And if she doesn’t win?”

“She will.”

You pray on your word, though you aren’t the religious type. When the sky gets darker, and your father comes home, immediately dropping his things at the foot of the door and dashing to bed, you begin to change. Some of your prettier clothing, with some makeup, highlighting your eyes.

Your friend picks you up an hour later, and you both walk outside of The Last Drop, watching bodies spill outside the door. You wade through the sea of bodies, the smell of chemicals, smoke, and ash hanging in the air. You’re pushed and moved until your friend walks to the poker table, Sevika’s eyes land on yours, and your friend is quick to sit down and curl his arm around your waist.

“My girl wants to be tonight’s money…” He says with a soft purr in his voice. Eyes rush from him to you, and the men jeer and smile, while your eyes linger on Sevika. “Will that be an issue?”

They all shake their head, “Finally, something worth losing an arm and a leg.” One of them says, eyes raking over your body. Sevika says nothing, and she deals the card, lighting a cigarette. They pass and pass cards, throwing in odd words, until your friend sighs.

There’s a dejected look that passes through their eyes, and their eyes brush over to you, until your friend leans back, a faint smile on his lips as he looks up at you, “House wins.”

When you look at Sevika, she’s staring at the table, while the players grumble in defeat. Her eyes flicker to yours, and you smile. Got you.

You go back to the bar, feeling the warmth of a familiar body, and coldness seeps into your skin as Sevika wraps her metal fingers around your wrist. “Walk.”

People part for her as she walks through the crowd, some eyes following her movement, before she walks up a pair of stairs, and you’re following her. The paint of the walls changes, and a myriad of doors decorate them. She pushes one open, closing it when you make it inside, letting go of your hand.

The room is prepared, with candles slowly flickering on the sides. “What were you thinking?” Sevika snarls, and she’s walking towards you as you back up, knees hitting the bed. “I could’ve lost, your little boyfriend could’ve lost, and what then? You’d call your father?”

You fall on the bed, tilting your head up to see her, “He’s not my boyfriend...and you’ve never lost.”

“Enjoy tonight...because this is the last time you’ll be here.”

Your eyes narrow at her words, teeth chewing the inside of your cheek, “Fine. I’m sure my friend or one of those poker buddies of yours will help me to enjoy my last night.”

Sevika’s nose flares a scowl painted on her face, and you get up from the bed, moving past her fingers on the doorknob before she pushes you to the wall, twirling you and moving you into the corner of the room. Her mechanic fingers reach your chin, squeezing your cheeks. “Don’t be a brat.”

A whimper falls from your lips, eyebrows knitted together, because she sounds so fucking mean in the best way possible. And her knee is slowly pressing in between your legs, rising to touch your needy cunt that flutters. You sharply inhale, “And if I am? What does...what does that have to do with you? Does having me...up against the wall turn you on?”

Sevika’s throat bobs, and her pupils are slowly dilating, top lip twitching. She’s mad, nearly fuming at your words, even though a flash of guilt passes through her face. “Y/N...don’t make me throw you out.”

“Does it?” You ask through a sharp gasp as her metal fingers tighten. Your spine is on fire, and you can faintly hear the rush of your blood against your own ears. “Maybe...maybe, you want to hear how I fuck myself thinking about you. Or that...I haven’t let anyone touch me since the day you got drunk at my house.”

Sevika’s eyes widen, a sharp inhale curling from your throat. “You­—”

A sharp knock echoes in the room, while Sevika stares at you, breathing through her nose. Her throat bobs, and you faintly smile at her, “Fuck me here. Doesn’t matter...if they’re outside, c’mon. Please.” You whine out the last word, and it seems to break her because she backs away nearly.

“Out.” The door is knocked on again, and she moves, pulling it open, and rushing past some woman, and an older gentleman, as they walk inside the room, eyebrows furrowing at you as you’re still pressed into the wall.

You don’t leave. You don’t even make it to the double doors before you’re hiding somewhere near your friend and some other people, watching Sevika drown herself in alcohol. Each wave of her hand was replied with a shot full of an amber liquid, and she’d look at it for a second before pouring it down her throat.

Satisfaction rushes through your skin, and somewhere along the night, bodies began to slowly disappear. You only move when Sevika gets up, wobbly walking with her head held high. And you follow her into the dingy bathroom, waiting for a second before you walk into it, tilting your body to look under the stalls, until you see her shoes peeking from the one in the end.

You knock on it, while different women come and go, giving you a half-dazed smile. “Sev...Sevika.”

She grumbles from behind the stall, and you rattle it until she opens it. Her back is against the wall, head in her hand, while she softly mumbles to herself. You near her, trying to hold her. “Let's take you home.” And she grunts.

For a second, you have a good hold on her, but the slippery floor makes your movement difficult, and Sevika moves, caging you against the bathroom wall, holding you hostage there. She’s got you pressed, and she’s looking down, with a half-lidded smile, strong arms slowly wrapping around your back.

“Sevika,” You call out, trying to keep your voice restrained. You can’t make the mistake as last time. You can’t take advantage of her like this.

She hums, right next to your ear, pressing her lips to the shell of your ear, tongue darting to the flesh, and you bite your lips as she nibbles. Your pussy pulses, pleasure rushing through your flesh with each lick. Her tongue pulls a whimper out of you, and your nails dig into her arm, pressing an indentation into her skin.

“Sound...pretty,” she says, words slow and slurred, “Should taste your cunt...right here...’m horrible. ‘m so—sorry...”

A tremble passes through your body, the words echoing against your skull. Slick pours from your pussy, and you’re sure you’ve never been more aroused in your life as the thought of Sevika just pushing you down and having her way with you brushes your brain.

Her apology is soft, though thickly laced with lust and need. But you try to force her back, and she grunts before pressing harder into you, knee jerking between yours. Her fingers clutch the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at her. “Sevika...stop it,” You hiss, trying again.

Her head bobs, eyes falling closed, and she leans in, just enough that you can feel her breath on your lips. You can see the pores in her face, and her lashes, and smell every shot she took. “’m older than your...father.” She mumbles out, lips pressing your cheek as you freeze. “But...I can...make your pussy feel good...swear. Good stamina...fuck you full.”

Your moan mixes with the sudden knock against the stall. A heat rushes through your stomach, while Sevika’s eyes flutter open, and she wobbles away from you, nearly hitting the toilet. You’re quick to wrap her arm around your head, pushing through your own needy haze. “I’ll take you home…” You begin, and her mouth opens before closing again. “I know...where you live.”

She grumbles, shaking her head, “Near...near here..far away.” and she repeats that as you haul her outside the bathroom, softly grunting when she presses half her weight on you. Your friend disappears, and you carry Sevika, sometimes swaying into a building and taking a breather before, walking again.

When you finally get her home, you’re quick to fetch a water bottle, and as you put it down on her nightstand, you see a picture. A picture of you, a small one, but not a recent one, like it had been taken some time ago. Your fingers thumb on the handle of the table, and when you pull, more pictures appear.

One when you’re eighteen, around the time you officially meet her, then a couple months later. One of you a day after your twentieth birthday, one of the following year, and then more and more, nearly filling the cabinet. The discovery is blinding because it means you’re not the only pervert between the two.

And you move from the nightstand, taking off Sevika’s boot, and her clothing, leaving her in underwear and a shirt, though your eyes impulsively stare at the line of hair streaming down from her belly button into her dark underwear. Your fingers press the material, feeling the muscles of her stomach through the fabric, and the softness of her breast.

Your nails trail down, passing where her hip bone is, down to her thighs. Then back up, until you’re touching her face, outlining her skin. You look through her clothing, smelling gunpowder and smoke on them, and just before you leave, you strip down to your bra and underwear.

You lie next to her, head nuzzled on the mass of her bicep, so close you can smell sweat, sandalwood, and gunpowder mixed in the coarse hairs under her arm. It’s intoxicating, better than anything you’d imagine, so so much better. A sigh falls from your lips, palm pressed to her stomach, and you push yourself, leaning until your lips touch hers.

“Sev…” You whimper into her skin, pressing down her side, and throwing your leg over hers. Sevika grunts as your hand pushes upwards, cupping her breast, and each soft thrust of your hip is torture. Each kiss is soft and chaste, as her chest rumbles and snores fall out of her.

You try to suppress your fucked-up urges, failing as your tongue darts to the corner of her mouth, sucking her bottom lip, and pushing to taste the liquor and smoke on her tongue. The room fills with your meek hiccups and moans. Sevika softly moans, pushing past her snore, hips jolting, each time your hand squeezes her boob.

You buck against her, pussy gliding against her hip bone, thinking about her fucking you full. “Daddy,” You hiccup wetly, clit twitching as you push down, thrusting your face into her axilla, and taking in every ounce of her scent.

The bed squeaks with each of your thrusts, and you’re so fucking close, heat stirring in your lower belly, while your clit grinds into Sevika’s body. The movement of her hand sliding on top of your thigh, mechanical hands squeezing your skin, is what sends you over the edge. And you pathetically hump her hip, nearly sobbing as you involuntarily open your mouth, drool sliding and covering your mouth and her armpit.

You lie there for an hour, quietly twitching, and hiccuping, feeling slick pour out of your cunt, until the bottom of your panties is wet. You nuzzle against her again, hands pressing under her shirt, touching her warm stomach, and gliding against her skin, just feeling her. You’re not sure what time you'll make it back home.

All you know is that you touch yourself again, this time one finger inside, curling it until you’re crying and calling out Sevika’s name, begging her to use your body, and to punish you for being disgusting. By two in the morning, you fall asleep with three fingers still inside, cheeks wet and panting.

The summer heat blared against each surface of the house. Cleo gives you a week off, something about it being too hot to make deliveries. You lounge around the house, working on your forgotten projects, until your father knocks on your door.

He opens, awkwardly standing there for a second. “Sevika will come to us to the cabin...I know I’m breaking tradition, but you sh—”

“Sure.”

He pauses, eyes slightly widening, before he smiles, “Really?”

You nod, eagerly, “Yeah, why not?”

“I thought you didn’t like her.” And he says that with a relieved sigh, “She can give you some pointers with the ladies...if that’s what you’re into...you know I support you.”

“I know, Dad. Does she know I’ll be there?”

He tilts his head, “Yeah, of course.”And he rambles on and on about his ‘younger’ self, and how he loved and loved, always having a girl on his arm. You leave the next day, just a couple of hours after packing your clothing. Each other is more revealing than the other.

Your leave Zaun, into the thick, dense woods of Borderland, and the world seems to shed that dark grey color infested over Zaun, into a soft blue and green. The Borderland was a midway place, filled with nature and green, unlike Zaun and Piltover. And through an arrangement, they left the place open, though no one can construct or alter the terrarium.

How did your father do it? Who the hell knows? The cabin is in the far back, near a hidden blue lake. It’s a stark, dark brown with log for walls, and a nice porch with a small swing. When you arrive, Sevika is at the front, a thick bag over her shoulder, while she smokes a cigarette. The sun reaches her boots, and she exhales, smoke curling in front of her.

“Though we’d beat you here.” Your father calls out. You follow behind, face growing hot, remembering every detail of the filthy things you did. Sevika’s eyes follow you before looking at your father, a grin moving to her face.

“Never, old man.”

And she walks behind you, until your father drops his bag on the couch. “Okay, so only two rooms. Sevika, you and Y/N can take the bigger room, and I’ll take the bed on the other side.”

“Dad, are you sure? Your back is n—”

“I’m sure”, and he waves you off, before grabbing his bag again and walking to the opposite side. You look at him with a sigh before walking away.

Sevika follows you to the end of the hall, and you push the door open, smelling wood and oil. A brief moment passes, and you let the silence linger. You wait for her to say something. To sneer at you or call you an impetuous brat, but instead she sets her things down and looks at the bathroom, inspecting every inch. Her eyes glide over your frame, and she’s moving out of the room, while you blink back tears.

Your father, bless his soul, takes no notice of the blooming tension between you both. He unloads the bags of food into the little fridge, humming to himself, while Sevika is outside, a beer next to her chair, as she stares at the dense, thick woods. “Honey, what should we eat today?”

You mumble out some bullshit answer, and he takes it. “We should put Sevika’s skill to the test.” He says, and you scoff.

“If she can cook, that is.” You lounge around in the basement, ignoring the heat building in your skin, flushing down your scalp, and down your spine. You imagine that the sky is dark, bruised blue, and you work through your old shitty inventions, twisting nails and metal, until it seems pointless.

The door of the basement clicks open, and you don’t look back, hands continuing to work on the little mechanical robot that flickers as you heat the wiring. The smells of smoke and dust.

“The food is done,” Sevika says, words echoing in the dark, dusty room. The yellow light above you flickers, and you bite your tongue, trying to stay civil.

“I’m not hungry.” You say, breathing even. “I’ll eat later.” And the robot flickers again, before finally lighting up, pixelated eyes blinking at you. From behind, Sevika walks to you, though you don’t pay attention, not until your elbow clashes into her stomach.

Before you turn, she bends down, wrapping her metal fingers around your neck and tightening them until you gasp. “Sevi—”

“Either you come up and eat...and I forgive that stunt you pulled at Last drop and when you dropped me off, or I bend you over my lap until your ass is purple, drag you to your father and explain to him why his pretty daughter came home late that day.”

And her fingers tighten again, digging into your skin while heat pools in your lower back and your pussy throbs, nerves eating every rational thought. Your lips part, a needy whimper coming out instead of a coherent answer, and Sevika clicks her teeth in disappointment. You try again, head bobbing while slowly beginning to feel dizzy and soft around the edges.

“Atta girl,” Sevika purrs, loosening her hold, but leaning down and pushing her tongue inside you. She tastes every inch of your mouth, licking the underside of your tongue, then sucking on it, humming in satisfaction as you mewl around her tongue. When she pulls back, your eyes are lidded, and a line of spit connects you to her lips. “You’re not going to disappoint daddy, are you?”

And you shake your head, wetly gasping when her hand falls, and oxygen finally flows to your brain. She smiles at you, patting your head, and leaves while you stare at the wall. You vibrate in place, trying not to cum untouched, clit pulsing against the material of your pants.

You’re not going to disappoint, Daddy, are you now

You walk in measured steps, holding onto the wall, head swimming with each movement. When you walk outside, you put on a smile, taking the plate Sevika gives you. You look at her, waiting for something, anything, despite your father being mere inches away, and she knows this because she points to a chair next. Go. A command.

When you sit down, she’s in the opposite chair, right in front of you, while your father is next to her. He’s mumbling about memories. And then he perks up, slapping his knee. “Come on, Vika, give my little girl some pointers from your younger days.”

She smiles, “Younger days? Are you calling me old?”

“Come on, you’ve had your share of beauties, years before my daughter was born.” He replies with a laugh, while the fire crackles and there's a howl of cicadas ringing in the night.

Sevika hums, reaching into the space in the enclosed fire pit, picking up her box of cigarettes. “You’re right...about fifteen maybe sixteen years before she was born. I even helped build Cleo’s shop…” and she says it all in a low drawl, while your pussy drips, and you bite back a whimper. Your thighs clamp up, and her eyes flicker down, before looking back up.

“I don’t think...I need advice.” You grumble out, though your voice sounds cracked, and your breathing too calculated.

“No?” She asks, lighting her cigarette, “Your little girl must already have someone.” And at her words, your father’s head snaps to you in surprise.

“Do you?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “No. No, I just don’t have any interest in a relationship.”

“At all?” Your father asks, and your eyes flash to Sevika, her grin falling into a calm, lax face. There’s no expression on her face, but she’s taking her mechanical arm against her thigh, and the end of her cigarette glows.

Maybe Sevika isn’t the relationship type. Maybe she has no actual interest in someone who’s figuring herself out, in such a measured pace, it seems like you’re moving backwards. Maybe this is just...lust and a primal need to satisfy her. “I haven’t found anyone who likes me…for me.” You say with a small smile, and you shrug, “Maybe I’m just meant to be alone.”

Your father shakes his head, “Don’t even worry about that. I’ll take care of you, my firefly.” His words are slurred, and the can of beer in his hand holds nothing but air.

Sevika helps you put your father in his bed, but she doesn’t say anything for a long time as you both enter the room. She lingers around, hand shaking on her lap, and she looks at you with her eyebrows knitted together. “I like you.” You say, “This isn’t about...sex or needing to prove something. You’re a dedicated person, and loyal...your work with Silco doesn’t matter to me. I like you regardless...What I did was…” Your voice trails off, a lump building in your throat.

Sevika stands up, eyes trained on you, and she takes a step towards you, just near the edge of the bed, as you stand in front of the door. “Your father would never forgive me.”

You give her a dry laugh, “Is that what bothers you? The fact that he’s your best friend?”

There’s a low hum from the air that swirls around you both, cutting through the tension. The distant chirp of cicadas hurls in your ear, and you stand still for the longest, unsure if you’re about to pass out from the palpitation of your heart or the silence from her end. “We can forget about this…” and you swallow the lump in your throat and every trace of Sevika’s tongue on your mouth.

“I can’t…” Her tone is soft, and she takes another step until she’s right in front of you, and her arm quietly steams, hissing into the air.

“You can’t what? Forget about what we’ve done or the fact that my father is your best friend?”

You barely breathe, even when Sevika drops her head on your shoulder, knocking you back into the door. The smell of sandalwood and smoke lingers in her hair, and she’s breathing right in your ear, as if she’s been punched, each breath labored and pulled.

“Both...both,” she whispers, a second rushes by filled with nothing but your mingled breaths, until she pulls her head away, hands cupping your face. “But asking your father for forgiveness is easier than regretting not doing this.”

Sevika turns her head, pressing herself into you, lips attached to yours. There’s an odd sweetness mingled in it, not like the filthy one she had given you; this is something more than that. Something akin to love. Her metal arm slides to the small of your back, pulling you to her body, spurring a whine from your lips.

In the midst of her kissing you as if you’re about to disappear, you barely realise she’s maneuvering you away from the door, hauling you to her lap, while she sits on the bed. She nibbles on your lower lip, wetting your bottom lip, while her metal fingers press into your skin.

You follow her moments, whining sweetly into her mouth as her tongue finally opens yours. Sevika licks your tongue, then your molars, touching every inch, until the air in your lungs disappears. Sevika kisses you with urgency, “’m weak for you.” She gasps into you.

And you pull away for a second, admiring the greyness of her eyes, and the slight red blush on her cheeks, “Do you love me?”

Sevika nods, eagerly, chasing your lips for a second kiss. “I do...I do.” You mewl into her mouth, and she pushes you to the bed, never breaking the kiss. She suffocates you, laying her weight on you, while her knee presses between yours. She breaks away, peppering kisses along your cheek, slowly traveling down to your neck, licking at your sensitive skin.

Each touch has you hips jerking into the material of her jeans, pressing your clothed cunt into her thigh. Each drag is unbelievably sending heat through your stomach, pushing out tiny mewls and whimpers. It’s borderline embarrassing. The mere action of Sevika’s lips on your skin is enough to pull such needy and whiny sounds.

“Tried to keep away from you.” She murmurs, face pressed into the material of your shirt, and she bunches it up until she can freely kiss your belly, “...really tried.”

Sevika tugs your shorts off until your underwear comes into view. She takes a minute before pressing her face down, groaning, tongue darting to the indentation marking your cunt. A gasp rings in your ear, and she’s yanking you to the end of the bed, down on her knees while her hands slide to the back of your thighs.

Your belly swoops, while blood rushes through your ear, eyes lidded as Sevika licks you through the underwear, sucking your clothed clit with a groan. You can feel her flatten her tongue, slick mixing in with her saliva as she sucks and licks you. “Vika...feels good.”

She hums, finally pulling down your wet underwear, slick, connecting your pussy to it. You feel her hands on your thigh, metal fingers digging into your skin, and she kisses along the inside of your thigh. Teasing and teasing, while your cunt pulses and your skin prickles.

Tears prickle the corner of your eyes, and you blink them away as the slow rush of warmth drips around your senses. You suck in a deep, sharp breath when Sevika presses down, giving your clit a soft kiss. And she does it again, and again until you're twitching, fingers fisting the bed sheets. The ceiling appears and disappears in your vision, as a sudden ache makes your pussy drip. 

When Sevika finally licks your cunt, your body loses composure, and your foot softly kicks out. A loud moan leaves your lips, eyes fluttering as Sevika pulls your legs to her shoulders, nearly locking your ankles. “So good,” she slurs, parting your folds and licking from your sopping hole to your clit. 

She gives the swollen buds kitten licks, humming each time you moan, or your hips flex into her face. “fucckk,” You whimper, low and needy, “let...let me fu–fuck your face. Please, please.” And Sevika presses into your pussy, sucking on the swollen bud, breathing in your scent of skin and sweat. 

She wiggles her face for a second, fingers pressing your hip down, and a sudden fullness lingers in your lower belly. It’s soft and aching, making a squelch ring into the air. Her soft groan sends a vibration rippling through your body, finally pulling out a needy, choked sob from your system, and Sevika slides in another finger. 

She slides them in and out of your walls, making your back lift off the bed when she finally curls them, hitting a spongy spot that has you bucking into her. “Sev…sev,” You call out, name rushing out of your mouth like some sacred mantra over and over again. 

Your brain has turned into much, grinding back into her mouth, chasing the fuzzy that has curled around the edges of your brain. Drool slides down your chin, and tiny “ah ah ah” s rush from your mouth. Sevika fucks her tongue into you, curling her fingers, stroking at the spongy spot until it feels as though you’re about to pee on her. “Nnghh fuc–fuck, sev…’m close.” 

A shudder rushes through your body, heat swarming into your lower belly. Your hand flies to her hair, pushing her down, while your hips jolt down, moving to ride her face. Loud, high-pitched moans leave your lips, and Sevika savors your pussy, lapping like it’s her last meal. 

Her tongue suckles at the bud, and for a second, she pulls back, taking a deep breath. You look at her through lidded eyes, your mouth open in an “O” shape. She spits on your pussy, clear white string falling from her tongue, and she goes down again. She moans into you, and when her tongue flicks your clit, and you feel the faint rush of her teeth against the bud, you explode. 

Your back arches of the bed, muscles twitching, making the skin of your thigh move, involuntarily. Each second is filled with warmth that makes your body shudder, spurring fat tears until you’re streaming down your cheek. Your hips jolt in place, breasts bouncing with each movement while Sevika’s tongue flutters up and down. Your whimpers fall continuously, quiet gasps filling the room. 

When you finally come back from the high, Sevika is pressing soft kisses on your belly, chin wet, eyes lidded, and pupils blown. You can almost see your reflection in the black, swallowing her irises. “Want…” You whimper, trying to move your muscle, “want to…make you feel…god.”   

Your cunt is pulsing, slick, lubricating down the coarse hair and the inside of your thighs. Your fingers slide into Sevika’s hair, softly pulling her to your face. “Please,” you slur out, pressing a kiss to her. You can feel her smile against your lips. 

“My pretty girl,” She purrs, “C’mon then.” And she’s standing up, moving around her bag. Clothes still on. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, nearly vibrating, and you’re quick to take off your shirt, throwing it somewhere around the room. 

The room stills, and you’re nearly leaping off the bed as you watch Sevika shrug off her clothing and clasp a harness on her waist. Shimmer strap. God, Sevika is about to fuck you with a shimmer strap. You feel so fucking lightheaded it’s almost insane. The faux cock attached to it has smooth ridges; it begins to glow a soft purple, the color imitating even at the tiny slit on the cockhead. 

You pull off from the bed, while she adjusts herself, crawling to her on the floor, until she’s looking at you, a look of surprise on her face. You’re drunk off seeing her like this; above you, hair tusled and chest heaving up and down. “Open up for, daddy.”

You try to collect spit from your mouth, latching onto the cock, tongue, and feeling the soft, smooth ridges on the walls of your mouth. You suck, swallowing her down, hands on her thigh until your throat contracts and you pull away with a thick line of spit connecting you to the head. You’re greedy, a floaty feeling setting in the back of your mind. 

You push back, greedily sucking the underside of her cock, tonguing at the ridges until it beams purple, and a vibration rolls through Sevika. “Fuck…that’s it. That’s my girl.” She breathes, and you such on the shaft, licking up to the slit of her faux cock. A glob of purple glistens down from the slit, and you lick, tasting sweetness. 

The sensation of sevika in pleasure is intoxicating. You push down to the base of the cock, feeling the leather of the harness on your nose. Need and want rain on your body. You move back until the back of your head hits the wall, pulling Sevika with you, and you’re back swallowing her cock, and following your cheek, trying to force her to fuck your face. A choked groan leaves her lips, and you moan around her. 

You jerk back, staring up at Sevika, “Tck, is that all you got for daddy?” Sevika drawls, spit dribbles around the cock, mixed with the purple gleaming liquid. There's some on your fingers and your wet lips, mixing with your saliva. 

“Cum…cum on my face, please,” You whimper, “Please, daddy. Will you?” And Sevika’s eyes are staring at your own lidded ones, cheeks wet with tears, as you softly rock on the floor. 

She smiles, mean and cocky, “Go on then. Fuck your throat on daddy’s cock then.” Her hand yanks your face forward, shoving you down onto her cock, and it hits the back of your throat, until your hands are gripping her thighs. You scramble for purchase, tears streaming down, while spit dribbles, and breathing becomes secondary. 

Your head connects to the wall, thumping but not enough for pain to settle in your senses. She keeps you there, nose touching the coarse hair peeking from the harness. And your throat convulses around her cock, and slick pours from your pussy onto the floor. The heat of your mouth draws a moan from her, and your vision turns blurry with tears; the feeling of serenity washes over your body, turning you lax and dizzy. 

Sevika groans, loud and high-pitched, and she pulls her cock off, giving you a second before you’re chasing after it, panting like some dog in heat. A shudder rolls around you, and your tongue is slick with spit and shimmer. “Need,” You mewl out, sobbing into the air, as Sevika holds you back from her cock.

“C’mon, baby, behave.” She says, voice craking with a groan. 

“Please,” You slur, the words filled with need, as you chase after her, fingers into her thighs, and you lean forward, lapping at the tip. “Need it…n–need it.”

The cock twitches, and Sevika’s pushing it on your face, smearing shimmer and spit on your tear-streaked skin, “Need what,  baby?”

“You…need you.” Your words are barely audible, slurred and needy, “fuck me. Fuck me. Plea–please, use me…use me.”

“On the bed, baby.”

You scramble from the floor, whining as you pull away from her cock. Your knees scrape against the cold floor, wobbling with each step until you’re on your back, opening yourself for her. It’s filthy, the way you reach behind your legs, trying to pull your folds apart. 

Goosebumps erupt along your flesh, and she’s pulling your legs apart, holding you just halfway. Spit dribbles from her mouth down to your pussy, mixing with the shimmer of her cock. The shaft touches your cunt, gliding up and down your pussy, slowly rolling her hips, forcing a broken moan from your throat. 

You whimper as the head pumps into your clit, and your pussy flutters pathetically, the feeling of emptiness making you hiccup. She fucks into the swollen bud, bumping against it, while you try to take a deep breath, loins burning with need. “Ins–inside…” You breathe out, choked and whiny, “Daddy, inside…c’mon pleaseplease.”

Sevika stares at you like you were made for her–made to take her cock. She leans into you, swallowing your needy gasps, and pushing her tongue inside your mouth, and she likes your mouth open, her cock pushes inside. She pushes inside, halfway in, letting you sob into her mouth, before thrusting all in, swallowing your choked sob.

Your back arches off the bed, toes spreading out, while your nails scramble to grip her shoulders. The sensation of fullness makes your pussy flutter violently around her cock, and she’s moaning into your mouth, before pulling down, and pushing back inside, rushing through your walls. Your nails dig, and dig until you’re sure blood has somehow crossed above the surface. 

“Da–daddy,” You sob, body pinned to the bed, while the bed softly squeaks under the weight.

“What’s wrong…” Sevika hums mokinly, hips jerking back, until half of her cock is inside you, “Is daddy too rough? You begged for this, baby.”

The sheer feeling of her inside you makes your head spin. Your hip involuntarily jerks because you can almost feel how Sevika’s cock has stretched you. You squirm in place, and white-hot pleasure crushes you, as Sevika sinks her cock inside–in and out, rubbing along your walls, while a nasty, obscene squelch bounces around the walls of the cabin. 

She pulls back from your body, slowing down as she plants her on the floor, hitting one of your legs on her shoulder. You catch your breath, until she begins to move, the sudden, hurried pace, making you mewl. A ragged moan tears from Sevika’s throat as your mouth falls open, eyes crossing from the pleasure. 

“Just loud and messy for me. Is this how you wanted me to fuck you? Or do you need an audience?” Sevika rocks her hips forward, watching her cock disappear, while shimmer and your pussy juice makes an obscene ring on the base of the toy. “Bend you over the poker table, and make your friend watch your pussy open for me.”

A loud squeal rips from your throat because her filthy words and the press of her thumb on your clit, have you swimming. You nod, dumbly and with need. “Want–wanted you to fuck me…while they watched.” Each word is choked out, in rhythm with Sevika’s brutal thrusts. 

Her hips move, just enough to press deeper into you, and her thigh slaps against the cleft of your ass, “Greedy…” The sharp drill of pain against your spine is sudden. A smack on top of clit that has your pussy convulsing. It rips a wet sob from your lips, and her hands smack down again on the side of your thigh. “Say you're mine.” Each word is punched into your with a roll of her hips. 

You nod, tears falling down your clumped lashes, and you swallow down, “‘m yours”. The words ring in satisfaction, while Sevika’s hips snap faster, burying herself inside with a sharp groan. The faux cock twitches inside your walls, hitting that sweet spot. “‘m yours.”

“Atta girl,” And your stomach flips, nails curling into the bedsheets, while your belly swoops with heat. You’re dizzy, pulse beating violently under your skin, nearly making your bones rattle. “Gonna make you feel good…like I promised.”

Her words punch a broken noise from your throat, and she grinds the cock deeper with a wet, loud sound. Each roll pushes you forward, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your hips roll down, chasing Sevika’s cock with urgency, as your pussy aches, clit twitching with each jolt. “Cum…cum inside me… yours…wanna feel full, please–”

Her smile widens, a mocking grin on her face, “Should I? What am I going to say to your father when your belly starts to grow?” 

Oh god.

The bed squeaks again, and your pussy gushes around her cock. The feeling of warmth rolling down your body, making your thighs jerk, while a broken whimper falls. A pulsing feeling curls in your pussy, as Sevika continues to ram inside you, forcing blood to rush through your ears, and for a second, the world stills, silence falling in your ear. 

Your body jolts, and she’s ramming inside, forcing you to ride out your orgasm. You barely notice her open mouth, until you feel so so fucking full, you’re convinced your belly will burst. The fat tip of her cock, slams inside once more, and she gushes inside. “‘m yours,” you slur out, body still feeling as if you’re on top of a fluffy cloud. You say the words again, though they come out broken and unintelligible.

 Sevika leans down, with a groan, tongue scraping the shell of your ear, hip rolling once more, making you whimper. “Going to take you home with me…gonna tell your father you belong to me, want that, my pretty pet?” Her tongue licks your wet face, tasting the salt of your tears. “You don’t have a choice anyway.”

Warmth pools in your lower belly, and a broken moan settles from your lips. “Nngg–”

“Shh, it’s okay, ‘m going to take care of you.”

And you nod dumbly, brain still mushy and fried, too gone to think, beyond, “more, fuck me more, need, need”. You can feel when the shimmer drips from your pussy to the bed, pushing past Sevika’s cock. You can even feel when she pulls out with a wet sound, and when she spits on your pussy and pushes the shimmer back inside, two fingers digging into your swollen, abused cunt.

But you don’t feel when you fall asleep. Sevika cleans you up, taking you inside the shower, wetting every inch of you while you snore and softly twitch. She soaps up every crevice of your body, washing it away, then washing the shimmer from inside you.

Impulse rushes through her, and she thumbs at your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles around the bud, watching you give her soft whimpers. “Pretty.” When she carried you back to the bed, she dried you up, then washed herself. She doesn’t even dress you; she simply slips into some shorts and pulls you to her body. 

You wake up not from the brightness of the sun softly spilling inside the room, or by the chirp of the birds outside the cabin room. It’s by the pressure between your legs. When your eyes flutter awake, pleasure creeps through your tummy, and you’re on your back, while Sevika’s leg is hooked over yours and her pussy is pressed against yours. 

A whimper is spurred from your lips. “Sev..”

Her eyes flutter open, and she’s quick to clasp a hand over your mouth. “Don’t.” She breathes out, “How does it feel? Wanted to see how you felt when you used me to get off…”

You lie back down, while she bucks into your pussy, clit rubbing against hers, and you’re nearly passing out from the wetness that rushes to your ears. The orgasm that rolls through you is sudden and rushed, like it had been building all night. Your pussy pulses against her until she’s biting down on her lower lip, and she’s pushing down, making your foot kick. 

She stops, a grin settling on her face, as she falls next to you, hand on your twitching thigh. “You feel good?” You whisper to her. 

“Not as good as last night.” Your cheeks burn at her words, and you’re quick to turn and hide your face despite her rushing to hold you. Sevika presses behind your body, nuzzling her face into your neck. “C’mon, princess, you need to accompany daddy to greet your father.”

You shake your head, “Perv.”

A meek slap lands on your thigh, not hard enough to sting, just playful. “Up.”

The bathroom faucet rings in the bathroom while you brush your teeth. Sevika picks out your clothing and then hops inside when you’re finished. It’s around ten in the morning, when you both come out, and your father is already outside grilling breakfast. He doesn’t say anything when you both come out. 

He doesn’t even look you in the eyes, not until he’s handing you and Sevika a plate. “You know….I’ve been thinking about putting some kind of soundproof technology inside my room.”

“Oh god.”