#thief!reader

Shit… Just great! Perfect! Out of all days to be chased by storm troopers, it just had to be today!

Your airways felt dry from the constant panting, you don’t know how long you’ve been running from those morons. You started to regret listening to your brain instead of your gut tonight.

There was a sudden chance of escape, a strip between the buildings seemed cluttered enough to slow down their chase. So, you zagged into the industrial alleyways of Canto Bight, storm troopers still high on your tail along with their horrendous aim.

You had to admit, trying to rip off some of the pompous wine guzzling members of the wealthy might not have been one of your best ideas, especially when they had strong connections to the largest crime syndicates within the galaxy. Bunch of drunkards they were, but you were quite mistaken to mingle and fool their crowd whilst in the presence of an imperial soldier—one that was quite high of rank actually.

The moment he took notice of your intentions he immediately jumped from his spot in the velvet cushions and alarmed all reporting soldiers of your presence—you had to hand it to him, there were prostitutes clinging to both of his arms, the plush of their blushed bosom pressed against his clothed elbow, he must have some real self-restraint if he was still thinking about work while those beauts were leeching onto him like that; but before he could let out a signal to the other troops, you dashed outta there, a cloud of dust left in your tracks.

Which takes us back to your current predicament, being chased through the streets of casino city, where your gambling debt dreams come true, and being captured certainly wasn’t on your brochure. Canto Bight was known for the rich and famous, and possibly the foolish who’d like to rub shoulders amongst the prosperous crowds; you might not have wished to reach the path of stardom, but you were definitely a dumbass to even think about snatching some goods and getting out of there alive.

You were only staying for a pit stop, just a bit of rest before you head back to the open tides of space. But the shimmers and shines of priceless loot were singing your name. Hence why you were zooming past stacks of junk, trying to make it to the other side of this alleyway without being caught; however, you managed to get cornered at the intersection, a three-way strip, each blocked by a trooper—just when you thought of going back the way you came in, a silhouette of white made itself noticeable at the corners of your sight.

Last thing you saw was the broken tiles and scaffolding in the undeveloped street; that was before they jumped you, covering your vision with a clothed bag. A harsh tug locked you in a mechanical cuff, an annoying beep signaling that it was properly locked, now you were being dragged to who knows where.

You could sense that there were at least two soldiers on either side of you, one with a firm hold on your forearm, while the other you could assume was holding a blaster at the ready. The walk to wherever they planned to take you had gone for very long, even with the bag blocking your sight, you could tell that you were no longer on the littered streets. Sounds of chatter and music were long gone, a tense aura made it difficult to breath properly, or maybe that was just the barrier between you and the air; but the stiff cold feeling was obvious, a bone-chilling puddle pooled with unease in your stomach, would you be able to escape this unscathed? You assumed you were taken to an imperial military base, after hearing the passing sound of other soldiers marching with a fairly loud clanking from their boots.

The sudden burst of air from a tightly sealed iron blast door told you that this was either a holding cell—which you prayed it was—or the more unfortunate option, a general’s office.

The troop to your left had pulled you into a halt—if it weren’t for the their hold on you, you’d probably be on your ass.

“Let her go,” a voice of a man ordered the soldiers and you were finally released from their grip; the sudden lighting flashed your eyes when they snatched that stinking bag off your face.

“Make yourselves scarce, so I may discipline our guest.” His command echoed across the steel chambers, the quick stomping of remaining soldiers exited from behind you, and the hopeless sizzling of a blast door sealing grew the anxiousness within your veins.

It took some time for your vision to adapt, but when it did, you were faced with a rather tall man, shoulders broad and his back turned towards you. He was dressed in an admiral’s attire, all black, uniform orderly and tucked in, and topped with an imperial cap on his head. His hands were clasped behind his back, but you noticed the callouses and dirt etched in the nails. Was this guy really some higher-up?

Before you could say a peep, he shifted, slowly his features became obvious as his torso faced you.

What the kark…

And that’s when it clicked, that smug smirk, prominent jawline, curled chocolate dipped hair, and that animalistic glint in his eyes, you knew he had you right where he wanted you.

“Mattheo Riddle-” Spitting his name like it was venom on your tongue. “Ah-ah-ah! That’s General Riddle to you, little mouse.” The cocky upturn of his lips didn’t hide how amusing he found this situation.

“The hell are you doing here? And what’s with the shitty costume?” You and Mattheo didn’t have the most friendly relationship, rather the two would always be at the other’s necks, always trying to out do each other when it came to heists. You weren’t friends, not even rivals, you’d rather kiss a Bantha than admit seeing him as an equal; he was a laser-brained bandit that didn’t know how to get out of your way.

You were utterly sick of his idiocies, trying to get up your ass whenever he bumped into you at a cantina, the term personal space meant nothing to the tall man as the leather of his belt grazed the softness of your waist, sighs and challenges tumbling from his lips, fueling your adrenaline. However, to his misery, he never succeeded in getting you into his bed, not once; his favourite girly was a tough one, and to say he enjoyed it was underplaying his emotions, he reveled in your anger, the knot in your brows, fire deep within those glaring pupils, and every little insult that you threw his way.

The day he received a smack across the face for saying something across the line was when he finally knew how obsessed he had gotten; like a normal person, he should have yelled back, maybe start a fight, or simply walk away coolly like what his friend might have done, but he wasn’t normal for you, blood rushed down his veins, an angry bulge pressed against his trousers as he massaged the abused skin on his cheek, a thrilling grin made it’s way to his face. What’d he do to fuck that irritated scowl in the cockpit of his ship, while the erotic vibrations of your moans are left forgotten in the middle of space. You weren’t exactly aware of the man’s fantasies, you assumed he had a similar hatred for you, just as you did for him, and any advancements in your ‘relationship’ ended there.

Hard leather soles clapped against the metallic grounds as he got closer, you stood there with annoyance evident on your face. “Good girls shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to them.” Cold fingers traced across the shell of your ear, not even a trace of his smirk faded as he tried to get another rise.

“You haven’t answered me.” The glare from under your pretty lashes did nothing except excite the ‘general,’ his fingertips began to trod lower along your pulse. “A general has no business answering a criminal. In fact, you should be punished for your crimes, sweetheart.”

His knuckle pressed along your throat, hooking under your chin to get a better view of his prisoner. “As a thief, you should atone for your crimes, shouldn’t you? You’ll take the duty of cleaning my blaster.” It sounds simple enough, but you knew him, far to well to know that he would make you suffer. Suddenly, a chill riddled across your spine, pulling the hairs of your skin to its ends, what would he do to you…?

Before you could counter, the hooks of your belt fell to the ground, the drop echoed in the room as the edges of your pants slowly gave in to gravity. “What the hell?!” Your hands flew to your falling pants, but not before Mattheo held the connection of your cuffs in place, “are you going to defy orders, miss criminal?” You wish you could punch that smirk off his face, yet the heat of his breath fanning into your ears held you at a still position. His voice was low, but soft, it was hard to ignore the wetness between your thighs as he stood impossibly close.

Time wasn’t on Mattheo’s side, he knew he didn’t have long to enjoy this rare moment, so he scooped you over his shoulder, you let out a yelp in response while he smacked your pantie covered ass.

“Riddle!” A sting of cold chilled metal burned into the fat of your bottom, you were sat on the disregarded screens with Mattheo standing between your spread thighs.

Calloused finger nipped at your entrance, your panties already soaking from the foreplay of his voice vibrating in your core. “Wh–ah!–what’s gotten into you?!”

“I’ve been waiting far too long for you to complain now.” Ripping the barrier to your sweet cunt in an instant, tossing it somewhere behind him as his eyes bore at your wet succulent heat.

In a hurry, he removed his gun from the confinement of its holster, unloading the power sack to avoid any accidents.

You sat there in anticipation, what was he planning? The glass screen under you stimulated the contrasted heat of your pussy. Your wrists still burning from the restraints, as you willingly spread your knees apart for him, slowly piecing together his intentions with weapon in hand.

He scoffed a chuckle at your eagerness, “didn’t know you were such a naughty girl,” pulling you from your thigh as his lips crept down your neck, lips hovering over the sensitive skin while the muzzle collected the slick between your thighs, already so dripping wet.

“Ngh-!” Cool thin metal tubes from the blaster stimulated your warm throbbing clit, swiping in swift motion. “Be a good girl f’me, yeah?” It came out in a heated breath, he sounded so aroused, turned on from the once in a light-year spectacle in front of him, how long was this asshole dreaming of this, you wondered… His movements never ceased, the front sight edge of his gun teased your slimy folds, the entire thing was already soaked in all of you.

Without warning, the muzzle entered your system, it wasn’t an ordinary blaster, its front end was rather long with a single edge prodding at the tip for better aim, said edge was scrapping your insides, gummy walls closing around the object, eagerly sucking it in for more, you could lie as much as you pleased, however your body told Mattheo how much you desired this.

“It’s too much!” Your head found placement on his stiff clothed shoulder, holding in every urge to cry out the moans, lips feverly bitten till the taste of iron spread atop your buds.

“Please! Please!” Pleads fell on deaf ears as your punisher pressed the tubes in deeper, thrusting in and out of your noisy cunt. The esteemed office of a general was now invaded with lustful indecent symphonies of a thief; for every plap that shook under you, the blaster’s speed never broke, and after a single twist, changing the positioning of the penetrating object, your back cried out in an arch, bottled up moans spilling from your throat as the gun impaled you without effort.

Drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, vibrations of pleasure shook through you, Mattheo found the picture perfect sight right in front of him, if you were so fucked out from a hunk of junk, then what would you do on his mouth or his fingers. The thought plagued him and as he considered to try it out, when a man came through the blast doors in a hurry; the sounds of the current deeds at hand clouded your brain, whatever that had happened behind you went unnoticed. But you did find his thrusts to slow, the change of pace prompted your lids to open—you weren’t even sure when you closed your eyes—”’ttheo,” questioning the sudden change, while his glare was set on the blast door, “couldn’t you have waited longer?” stating exasperatedly.

“Now is not the time to be fucking your girlfriend. Where on a bloody mission!” That’s when you realized someone else was present, and here you were legs wide open and a gun inside you; cuffed arms smacked Mattheo at the chest, your entire face was painted red and quietly begged him to retreat the weapon from your entrance.

The bandit looked once at his partner before scoffing and hesitantly pulling out the object from you, “didn’t even get to finish.” Licking your slick from the muzzle, staring at your mortified eyes in contest, “hurry up, storm troopers could get here any minute, it’s only a matter of time before they realize the real general is missing.” The unknown man behind you warned, whoever he was, he sounded like a pain. “Cut me some slack, it’s like you don’t know what fun is. Go on ahead of me, I’ll be right out.” Sending a wink your way while he locked in the gun on his holster.

“We don’t have much time, so get your crap together.” Mystery man exited the door and Mattheo mocked his last words like a child.

“C’mere,” He pulled your legs in, chest against chest as the rock pressing against you said all you needed to know, “5 minutes should be enough,” a dumb smirk made its way to his face.

Not long did he undo his belt and zipper, cock girthy and whipped out on your cunt, no time was wasted, his shaft slapped against your insides with no retaliation, your linked arms over his head, locking him in as screams cried from you, imposing thrusts increased for every second that passed.

“So tight even after—fuck!” Tip kissing your cervix for ever smack against his balls, ass turning red from the abuse of his insane speed. Arm wrapped around your middle as he sought for your release, biting on your shoulder trying not to cum instantly inside the walls that milked his length of its load.

“You enjoy this—hah—don’t you? Gettin’ fucked stupid on the general’s cock like a filthy whore,” he spat as the rhythm of his hip grew erratic, “bet you dream of this day and night. My personal cock holster—shit!”

All that was argued back was the breathy moans and a tear stroked face as you felt your climax nearing. Nails piercing his uniform; the moment you saw him in this outfit, something inside clicked, you didn’t know how wet you’d get just from seeing the man you hated the most all dashed up and tidy.

Your orgasm crashed like a wave through your body, legs violently spasming as his thrusts sped to chase his release, spilling his semen down your insides, dripping onto the technology you used as a makeshift table.

“Fuck that was so hot…” Head against head as the two tried to catch a breath, “round two?” You smacked him square from the back of his head with the restraints on your wrists, “get this bullshit off of me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” obliging to his pissed of prisoner.

Now you were cuff-free and slicked wet with his and your release, trying to make yourself look decent before escaping this hell hole, maybe kicking Mattheo in the ass as payback, but before you could even give that idiot an earful, he was already dashing out the door, “Hey!”

“Sorry, princesses! My admirers are waiting!” Throwing a wink your way before scramming down the clanky hallways, the sound of blasters nearing, oh shit, you chased after him in hopes to escape with his crew; if he managed to get in, then you were pretty sure he had a plan to get out. You just didn’t anticipate the things that’d come your way afterwards…

TO BE CONTINUED…

He twirled the small silver pendant between his fingers, its chain catching the dim light of his apartment. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. A coin tucked into his coat pocket, a polished gemstone nestled among his wares, even a gold button slipped into his satchel. All small, shiny, and conveniently appearing wherever he happened to be.

"Now, now," he murmured to himself, rubbing his chin with amusement. "Looks like someone’s got a little habit of redistribution. And here I thought I was the only one making shady trades around here."

His grin widened. He had a suspect in mind.

You had never been particularly good at words. Stealing? Oh, you were great at that. You could swipe a ring off a noble’s hand and they wouldn’t notice until a week later. But confessing your feelings? That was a skill set you sorely lacked.

Which is why you found yourself slipping yet another trinket into Sampo’s jacket when he wasn’t looking, heart hammering in your chest as you tried to act normal. Not that "normal" was a word anyone would associate with you. Or with Sampo, for that matter.

It started as an accident. You had lifted a gleaming coin from a pompous merchant and, without thinking, had tucked it into Sampo’s bag before making a quick escape. When he later mentioned finding it with a smirk and a raised brow, you panicked—and repeated the process. Again. And again.

Now it had become a habit, a silent way of showing affection without having to actually say anything.

"You know," Sampo’s voice suddenly drawled, making you jump, "most people, when they wanna woo a fella, go for something a little more conventional. Flowers, poetry—maybe an actual conversation?"

Your heart stopped. He was standing right behind you, his usual carefree smirk firmly in place. He flicked a small, glimmering brooch between his fingers—one you had slipped into his pocket not even five minutes ago.

"I—uh—" You scrambled for an excuse, a diversion, anything.

Sampo chuckled, tilting his head at you with that infuriatingly knowing look. "Y'know, if you keep giving me all these gifts, people are gonna think we’re engaged."

Your face burned. "I—I just thought you'd like them."

"Oh, I do," he said, stepping closer, voice dropping into something softer, almost teasing. "But I think I’d like it even more if you stopped running away every time I try to catch you in the act."

You swallowed. He had known all along. Of course he had. Sampo might have been a swindler, but he wasn’t an idiot.

"So, how about we strike a deal, hmm?" He leaned in, eyes gleaming. "You stop sneaking these into my pockets, and instead, next time, you bring 'em to me yourself. Maybe over dinner?"

You stared at him, wide-eyed. Was he—was he actually asking you out?

He grinned. "Whaddaya say, thief? Think you can steal a little of my time instead?"

A slow smile crept onto your lips. Maybe, just this once, you could take the risk.

"Deal."

If only you didn’t lose your job and got into that accident costing you your car.

“Fucking great. Back to square one, I guess,” you take a glance over your shoulder to make sure no one is watching you.

One of your former partners told you about an easy target. He only wants forty percent, that greedy bastard.

“Just have a little faith in yourself,” you whisper to yourself, to tame your racing heart. “For fuck’s sake. You once were one of the best cat burglars, Y/N. Get a hold of yourself and do this. I don’t want to suck that asshole’s dick.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment to remember the smart and talented thief you once were.

Before you gave up life as a criminal and tried to become one of these normal people working from nine to five. “I can do this…”

Your fingers work on their own. It’s like your body remembers every movement and every trick to unlock the door in the back of the large mansion. You unlock it within a few seconds and slip through the small gap you create as you shove the door open. “Not that bad,” you silently close the door and take another deep gulp of air.

Silence welcomes you to someone else’s home. You feel guilty for breaking into their house. It’s been years since you did something like that, and it feels wrong for the first time in your life.

Years ago, you didn’t give a shit about other people. Your father was a hardass gangster, killing people without batting an eyelash. Your brother, well he was one of the best burglars you ever heard about.

None of them is still alive. Life in your line of business is dangerous and deadly. There is no honor amount gangsters or thieves anymore.

Now you’ve got no other choice than to fall back into old patterns and steal to survive. You are on your own since you turned eighteen and no one is there to catch your fall.

It’s not the time to overthink things. You do this now, or you’ll end up on the street, nothing more than the clothes you are wearing in your possession.

For a moment you stand in the hallway of the stranger’s home and drink the atmosphere in.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you tiptoe toward the first door. You put your trembling hand onto the door handle and take a deep breath. “This is not your first rodeo, girl. Just get it over with.”

You open the door, hoping to find money, jewelry, or anything worth the fear holding you in a tight grip. The small flashlight in your hands doesn’t help you at all when your eyes land on a gun aimed at your head. 

“Hello, there,” a deep voice purrs in your ear and the next thing you feel is a gun pressed to your temple and a strong arm wrapped around your waistline. “I couldn’t believe it when he told me someone is stupid enough to try to break into my house.”

“I—” fuck, you are trembling in fear. Your knees buckle and you don’t know if you are still breathing as the man holding you in a tight grip unlocks his gun. “I-I didn’t want to…please.”

“Sammy, leave us alone,” the man pressing his gun to your head orders. “Give our little rat what he deserves. He got me a nice little rat myself. Hmm…” he runs the gun down your face, pressing it to your cheek. “What do you say, sweetheart. Will you be a good girl and sit over there on the armchair without making a fuss?”

“Y-es,” you can barely choke the word out before you find yourself pushed toward the armchair. You catch your fall, grunting as the man slaps the back of your head. “Ouch.”

“Sit, or I swear I will hurt you so much more,” you sit on the armchair, hugging your legs as you look at the man aiming the gun at you again. “What do you want here? What were you looking for?”

“Money, or jewelry,” whispering the words you dare not to look at the man for much longer. You drop your gaze, praying he will not kill you. “I’m sorry.”

“Money?” the man laughs now, somewhat relieved. “You came here to steal my wallet and shit, sweetheart?” He steps closer to lift your chin with his gun. “You’ll answer my questions and look at me.”

“I needed money and my old partner told me about an easy job. He said no one will be here and that you have enough money to make sure I don’t have to give my landlord a blow job,” you wince as the man secures his gun.

“You’re not lying,” he frowns deeply as tears run down your face. You are shaking in fear now, afraid the man you wanted to steal from will end your life tonight. “Who told you that no one will be here tonight?”

“I-he,” you bite your tongue. If you die tonight, you won’t die as a traitor. “I can’t tell you. You’ll hurt him too.”

“I didn’t hurt you yet,” you shudder as the man roughly grips your chin to look you all over. “None of my men hurt you. Now, tell me everything about this man sending you here.”

“I  worked with him once or twice a few years ago. I was out of this life for almost five years. He was the only one offering his help,” he places his gun on the coffee table next to him. “He’s a good man.”

“I hate to break it for you, sweetheart,” you hate that your life is in the stranger’s hands now, “but your old partner ratted you out. I got a call before you even arrived at my house. I think that guy wanted to get rid of you.”

“He would never—” staring at the gun on the table you swallow thickly. Maybe the stranger is right. You haven’t heard of Cole in years. He was the only one answering your call, though. “Why would Cole do such a thing? What does he get out of this?”

“Cole Trenton always tried to get a foot in the door. He wants to become one of my men,” your eyes glued to the gun on the table you simply nod. “I guess he thought you are a nice pawn. I must say, you are cuter than the last guy trying to steal from me.”

“What happened to the last guy?” fuck, you don’t recognize your voice. You sound small and weak, like a scared little mouse.

“Do you really want to know?” you shake your head; afraid you will end just like the other guy. “What’s your name?”

“Do you always want to know the name of your victims?” he chuckles when you finally lift your head to meet his piercing green eyes. “Y/N.”

“Nice name for a greedy little girl like you,” you make a face as it seems that he tries to make fun of you. “How about this. You tell me everything about that guy wanting you to blow him off and we will see if you survive this night…”

“A sandwich,” you wonder aloud as the man steps back inside the room he brought you to. He handcuffed your left wrist to a chair to make sure you don’t try to run. “What is going on?”

“I want you to eat and just listen,” he places the plate in front of you, giving you a stern look. “No talking, just listening.”

“Okay,” taking the offered sandwich you try not to wolf it down. Even though you are scared to hell and back, your stomach screams for food.

“Benny made sure to check on your apartment,” he opens the handcuffs around your wrist, smirking when you pull away. “Your landlord was a hard piece of work. That son of a bitch didn’t want to hand out your belongings.”

“I—you stole my stuff?” he smirks now, as you struggle to not choke on your food. “Why?”

“While you preferred to pass out on me, I made a few calls and got to know you were a talented thief. I’m always looking for new talents. My name is Dean Winchester by the way,” your heart drops as you recognize the name. Dean Winchester is one of the most dangerous mafia bosses in the whole US. “I asked my men to get your belongings.”

“What do you want from me?” Dean cups the back of your neck to easily dominate you. He stares down at you, still that dark smirk on his face.

“You will work for me from now on. If I need a thief, or someone picking a lock for me, you’ll come with me. For now, you will stay in this room and be a good girl. If not,” he squeezes your neck, making you wince, “you don’t want to know what happens then…”

“Dean, why didn’t you kill the girl?” Sam groans as his brother's thumbs through your file, the one he got from Jody Mills. One of many cops working for Dean. “Dean!?”

“She’s a talent, Sammy,” Dean looks up from the file to face his brother. “I don’t like it when you doubt my decisions. She will pay for breaking into my house. Period.”

“Your job starts on Monday,” Dean points at the box on the bed. “You will only talk to me. You will not leave my house. You will not have your own life until you paid for putting your hands onto what belongs to me.”

“I didn’t touch anything,” you cry. Your lips tremble and you feel hot tears run down your cheeks again. “Please.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos softly as he leans closer to lick the tears off of your cheek, “you are pretty when you cry. Be a good girl, do as you’re told, and you will not be on the receiving end of my wrath…unlike Cole Trenton…”

Signed. Sealed. Delivered. Your life belongs to Dean Winchester now. You don’t know if what’s worse. Death or being Dean Winchester’s chewing toy...

>> Part 2