Straight Looking Lesbian

main blog: @stephanieromanoff | 24 | Men and minors DNI | Lesbian | she/her

[stephanieromanoffnsfw]

Some things about me and this blog

Please if you are a minor/man don’t interact.

I love MILFs. Please if you’re a milf dm me 😂

Fandoms: Marvel and Supergirl (and a few more but these are the main ones)

As said in my bio I’m a lesbian, so men please don’t interact.

I’m a switch, but I prefer to top.

Feel free to dm me or send asks to me

I’m a femme.

I’m 21 years old.

I’m a Scorpio ♏️

Call me Stephanie or Steph.

[tiredandsapphic]

𝜗ৎ meet me in the pale moonlight.

isadora capri x femreader

summary getting a moments escape from Nevermore’s gala—with a certain music teacher.

notes nsfw. teacherxstudent. legal age gap. was gonna write fluff but it’s kinktober so all you bitches horny

suffocating.

nevermore held yet another overly elaborate gala. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t impressive;but it simply wasn’t your scene. it felt suffocating.

by this point in the evening your dress felt too tight, your social battery hitting a low, and legs aching from any more waltzing. too many eyes, too many smiles and not nearly enough oxygen.

it hadn’t been horrible, no, you enjoyed the time with your friends, dressing up in an elegant dress, getting perfectly done up. though, what pestered, was that you knew you looked good—but you knew isadora couldn’t do anything about it. yet.

throughout the night your eyes flickered to her, usually stationed at the piano, a significant member of the quartet. she looked divine, her dress hugging perfectly, she looked good enough to eat. you found this strand of thoughts floating through your head multiple times throughout the night.

her thoughts mirrored yours.

you barely force another polite laugh through small talk when another hand brushed yours. soft but intentional.

you turn—and there she was, isadora.

“is—ms. capri,” you breathe out, correcting yourself amongst a watching crowd. you awkwardly step away from your previous conversation, more toward her, away from listening ears.

god she looked even more gorgeous up close, causing your heart to flutter against your ribs. 

her hazel eyes—flecked with gold—studied you carefully, a gentle knowing smile on her painted lips. "you looked like you needed saving." she hums, "you still do." she adds as she glances around the lively space.

before you can open your mouth to deflect you find yourself being tugged along by the older woman. carefully but quickly making your way around the sea of bodies, yet your attention solely on the woman in front of you.

it isn't long until you break the threshold of the doors, breaking out into the cool night air which bites at your heated exposed skin. you suck in a breath, the air surprisingly refreshing compared to the charged air within your beloved academy.

she continues to pull you along, her heels in a steady rhythm against the cool cobblestone paths that surround nevermore. quiet in her determination—drawing a breathless laugh from your lips. "isadora, what are we doing?"

she looks back over her shoulder, orange-red curls illuminated by the moonlight. a wolfish playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"getting you away," she says simply, finally coming to a halt, nearly causing you to crash into her.

you had reached the back gardens at this time. everything a dull grey, the small amount of light provided by the moon above, littering everything in a gentle yet gothic glow. stone and petals reflecting the barely there highlights, a peaceful silence compared to the gala inside.

isadora takes her step closer, the playful expression fading to something gentle. something so uniquely her. she takes your hands into hers, holding them carefully as her rings glide over your knuckles.

"you look so incredibly beautiful tonight," she hushes, her voice carried by the serenity of the gardens.

heat creeps back up your neck, not being able to fight the bashful smile that breaks free. "is that why you dragged me away?"

she laughs soft, shaking her head. "not entirely," her gentle gaze flickers over you, "i know you best. and i know that's not exactly your scene." she says low, eyes flicking back to the looming academy, the music carrying low through the night.

you shrug, but you knew she was exactly correct. "i suppose it is a little much," you admit.

she hums and nods, guiding you closer. her hands travelling down your arms to settle at your cinched waist.

"well its been killing me trying to act professional in there, and equally hard watching you try to enjoy yourself." her eyes travel down your face, locking onto your lips. "let me help you relax," she whispers.

you have no time to respond, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that's equally soft and demanding. both of your pent up frustration escaping in a low groan. your body immodestly melts against her like clockwork, pressing yourself against her body's warmth. she tastes like a fruity drink and something more feral.

you finally find it in you to pull away, but not far. close enough to count the golden specks amongst the hues of her eyes. "isadora," you swallow, jerking your chin weakly toward nevermore.

like a big looming reminder. this isn't your dorm or her living quarters. not her locked classroom or some far away place. "we shouldn't," the words struggle to even form from your lips.

isadora's face reflects none of the same worries, just pure confident admiration.

"you're right," she lets out, but takes no action to move, just her grip on your waist growing more firm. "but i can't find it in myself to care right now." she adds, honest and raw.

your knees could buckle at the rasp in her voice—any sense of morality leaving. suddenly the risk seems very worth the reward.

a weak laugh falls from you before you find yourself leaning back in, continuing the kiss. she reciprocates instantly, lips falling to a soft and steady rhythm against yours. her cinnamon and warm scent intoxicating amongst the florals, drawing you in closer, flush to her body. a small moan leaves you, swallowed up by her lips.

she smiles against your mouth, knowing how quick you are to submit to her. she pushes you back gently, not pulling away, guiding you until your back meets the coolness of an old stone statue. cold and damp against your own heat, stark to the building heat between you two.

she pulls back for air, gentle puffs of air shared between you both. her pupils are blown wide, dark in the moonlight. beautiful and nearly animalistic. 

"please don't deny me of you," she rasps out—a plea—eyes searching.

you snake your arms around her shoulders, fingers tugging gentle at the wild loose curls. a subtle tilt of your head and a merciful smile is all she needs. "i wouldn't dream of it, isa." you whisper.

a hushed growl rumbles from her, her wolf keening. "good." 

she presses you harder against the stone, the warmth of her lips meeting your jaw. she plants kisses down your jaw to your neck, teeth grazing soft pulse points.

you tip your head in mindless response, breath hitching as your fingers find more of her hair. a firm grip to the nape of her neck.

her soft bites and kisses are cautious but deliberate, flushing your veins full of burning desire. isadora maneuvers her leg between yours as you so generously part them. her thigh slotting between yours, the sudden pressure makes your heart skip and lips part in another moan. 

"gods—you're so sweet," she murmurs against your skin, "my sweet girl."

the words shoot through you, adding fuel to the fire burning within. finding yourself growing helplessly needy against her.

her kisses pepper lower, down to the swell of your breasts in your dress, her thigh moving slow yet firm against you. you shudder, shutting your eyes with the overwhelming need. you don't need the cool night air to help you feel how shamefully wet your panties are, all because of isadora.

she leans back, back up to your face, enjoying the flush of your face and quiet panting. completely lost for her.

"let me take care of you," she whispers, another soft plea for consent. her eyes are always searching.

you swallow and nod pathetically, fingers clutching at the back of her neck. "please," is all you can manage.

her grips tightens as she hoists you up on the stone base of the old statue, the bite of the colder stone against your thighs running up you. your breath catches and a hand catches the edge of the stone, as if to tether yourself to reality. 

she lets out a satisfied hum as she peers up at you, "so pretty." her lips find yours again, tongue slipping past your lips, kissing you deep.

a hand trails down your gown, warm against the cool bite, lost in the fabric as it slips under. her fingers find the dampness collecting between your thighs, your soaked panties pulling a satisfied groan from her. fingertips tease over the fabric, causing your body to arch against the barely there touch, chasing any kind of contact.

not feeling the need to tease you any further—isadora drops to her knees in front of you, gazing up at you as if you were your own statue in the garden.

the sight makes you fuzzy, overwhelming need and love sending you reeling. her hands run up your legs, to the skin of your thighs, bunching the generous amount of fabric up. she fumbles slight, almost lost in the amount of garment. a shared laugh escapes you both, the irony of the moment. as if the dress was in agreement with the forbidden moment.

though her eagerness prevails, tugging down your wet fabric, exposing you to her and the crisp air. isadora wastes no time, trailing hot kisses up your thighs until she reaches your dripping cunt. hands adjusting your legs over her shoulders. the moment her mouth connects you let out a small cry, slapping your hand to your mouth as you shudder. 

she moans against you, vibrations sending more pleasure to the moment. you drop your hand from your mouth to tangle into her curls, something to ground yourself. white knuckles on the stone which your other hand gripped.

she worked you slow, but precisely. her skilled mouth knowing exactly how to work you up. her tongue circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you moan, tossing your head back, hips chasing her mouth. the coolness of her rings glide against your thighs—softly massaging the tender skin. a soft assurance that she has you.

"oh, isa." you breathe out, coming out broken and whiny.

she pulls back momentarily, making you look down instantly. the loss of contact causes you to whine weakly, almost unbearable. her eyes flicker up to you—knowing—as she slips her rings off her hand. the question falls short on your tongue when she leans back in, alongside her fingers now.

she slips two fingers in you, slow as you moan at the careful stretch. your nails scrape against her hair as she pumps two fingers reverently, her tongue working your clit in sync with her thrusts.

the double sensation has you seeing white, pants and moans growing more desperate. weakly bouncing off the stone around, the worry of getting caught very much an after thought now. the only sounds being the scandalous moans from you and the silent music carrying from the gala you've abandoned.

"so good for me," she murmurs against you, "so so good." she praises.

her praise was always a weakness, drawing you closer and closer to the edge with each sweep of her tongue and every thrust of her fingers. 

she pulls back only to speak soft, "you going to come for me, my pretty girl?" she whispers.

you nod frantically, "mmm—yes... yes isadora, please," you pant out.

her mouth finds you again, working you at the same rate. her talented fingers curling deep inside, hitting the spot that makes your thighs tremble around her head. feeling your walls squeeze her fingers, isadora doubles down, determined to let you fall over the edge.

your orgasm rips through you with force. your head falls back, exposing your throat to the moonlight, fingers tightening impossibly in isadora's curls. white hot heat rushes through you, having you seeing stars as she works you over and through the pleasure.

mouth falling open in rapid moans, some being her name in broken breaths. isadora works you gently through the high, the occasional whisper of 'good girl' ringing through your head. finally, her pace slows as the high subsides, replaced with weak bones and overstimulation.

"isa," you rasp, pawing weakly at her head. 

she obliges, pulling back, slipping her fingers from the warmth of your soaked cunt. a weak groan emitting from you in response. your back pressing against the stone behind you, the only thing holding you up as your chest raises and falls in rapid bursts.

isadora slowly raises back to her feet while licking her fingers clean of you, a low moan coming from her. the explicit sight has you breathless all over again. her hands find your waist again, something stable to hold onto. she kisses your jaw, cheek, nose and finally finds your mouth—kissing you deep. the taste of your arousal lingering on her mouth.

when she pulls back she smiles, taking in your blissed out expression, stark to the pent up expression you held minutes ago. "are you okay, my sweet girl?" she asks, caring and honest.

you catch your breath, a fragile smile forming on your face, "yeah, god yes." 

she hums in content, your hands tremble as they find her face. thumbs brushing the dampness that lingered on her chin, catching the light from the sky. she turns her head to kiss the tip of your fingers, catching your wrist on her face.

"you did so good for me," she whispers, leaning into your hand.

the familiar warmth that comes from being with isadora floods you once again. you pull her in to kiss her—much softer than the earlier blur of passion. 

"i feel so much better," you admit, "you've cured me." you joke.

"anything for you." she hums, tilting her head with a smirk. her hands running up your sides. 

the moment is silent as you lean your forehead against hers. the events that took place settling to a gentle hum, a shared secret between you two and the garden. quiet moment lost in the music which still sheds from nevermore.

she pulls back to gaze at the looming building in the distance, a merciful frown forming. "i suppose we should get back," you say, following her gaze.

"mmm," she nods, looking back at you, "i can't have the orchestra being entirely lost without me." she says with a small smile.

a quiet giggle leaves you, as she smoothes down your gown, covering the warm skin of your thighs. as if she hadn't just taken you apart. the smallest tremble still lingering in your limbs—unable to push yourself off the stone you sat on.

"maybe a few more minutes won't hurt," she adds as a brow arches slightly, a mischievous smile growing.

you laugh, breathless, nodding in agreement, "maybe just until i can feel my legs again."

she laughs in response, letting you fall flush into her warmth once more. a quiet understanding in the secrecy that the gardens provide.

[lovelysiths]

dating headcanons | i. capri

a/n: it feels weird writing these when the whole show isn’t out so i’m not fully aware of isadora’s motives and personality but we move

content: femreader, general dating hcs + nsfw dating hcs 18+

general headcanons 🐺:

♡ expect to be serenaded. music is how isadora conveys her emotions

♡ mandatory karaoke nights

♡ if you can’t already, she’ll definitely teach you the piano

♡ doesn’t sugarcoat ANYTHING.. will accidentally hurt your feelings by being a little too honest

♡ can always tell when you’re uncomfortable and will find an excuse to exit the situation immediately

♡ you come visit her in the music room and have tea over lunch breaks

♡ she hates to admit it but you literally take her breath away 💀 she finds it hard to breathe around you, especially early in your relationship

♡ LOVES holding your hand, shes always messing with her hands so holding yours is a good way to stop that habit

♡ sassy woman apocalypse. do not date this girl if u can’t handle a little banter

♡ very aloof. keeps a lot of her past to herself, but that’s what makes her so interesting

♡ loves when you wear her coats! (mostly because you smell like her. it’s a werewolf thing.)

♡ can be very possessive/jealous. you can practically hear her clench her canines when someone flirts with you

nsfw headcanons 🔞:

♡ her claws come out when she’s about to finish..

♡ she loves to be in control

♡ you know what they say about pianist fingers…

♡ will scratch up your back if you let her, has a little thing for pain

♡ loves eye contact when you go down on her and vice versa — she will force you to maintain it

♡ orgasm control, loves to hear you beg for a release.

♡ did someone say mean top & bratty bottom. she’s a switch with two sides

♡ loves marking you, makes her feel like she has a ‘claim’ over you. another werewolf thing.

a/n: this is shorter than i would have liked, but honestly i may add more after part 2 comes out!

[f2delity]

Something new

nsfw

isadora capri x fem!reader

warnings: cunnilingus

summary: miss capri wakes her gf up by eating her pussy

author’s note: just wanted to say thank you to everyone who’s been reading my miss capri one-shots, i truly appreciate it 🤗 face reveal coming at 200 followers. also a special thanks to @misscaprisun for this idea 🤏🏻

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

The daylight began seeping through the curtains of your dorm room, your chest resting on top of your lover’s, peacefully asleep still. Her nose nuzzling the top of your head, her arms wrapped around your body along with your arms wrapped around her body - each other’s skin pressed against on another after spending the night together.

The older woman fluttered her eyes opened, the daylight instantly hitting her face as she carefully sat up, yawning, still trying to cover herself up underneath the blanket. Her hazel eyes gazed over you, sleeping so peacefully, a smile curled on her lips as she tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. She took a quick glance around the room, clothes scattered everywhere across the room - a slight rip in the wallpaper from last night when you managed to somehow rip it off, trying to hold onto something as she fucked you relentlessly against the wall. Her cheeks flushed at every little detail, remembering everything that the two of you did last night with one another.

Her gaze fixed back towards you, she leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your check, hoping that would wake you up - but it didn’t. She sighed, feeling a bit lonely due to her being the only one who’s awake. She placed another kiss on your cheek, still nothing. Her lips curled into a soft smirk, a little idea came into view of her head.

She went back underneath the blanket, moving down your body until she’s reached between your legs. She carefully spread your legs opened a bit, trying her best to not wake you up just yet. Her head was now between your legs, placing gentle kisses on your inner thighs, taking her sweet time before she got closer to your core. You slightly shifted a bit, under the warmth of her lips, but it wasn’t enough to wake you up.

She then traced her tongue along your folds, savoring the taste on her tongue - humming peacefully as her tongue began exploring your pussy. The tip of her tongue drawing lazy circles along your clit, a quiet faint moan escaping from your lips underneath your slumber. With each lick, she applied more pressure on your clit, a gasp escaping from your mouth as your eyes began to slowly open.

Your hand dragged slowly along the pillow your head lie, grabbing the edge of the pillow for some support, tightening the grip as she continued to eat you out.

“Isadora, right there,” your voice sounding a bit raspy, still not fully aware of what was real or not. Your chest rising up and down faster than normal, your heart rate immediately increasing, eyes rolling back as her tongue hit all the right spots. The best thing about her was that she never rushes anything, she always takes her sweet time with every little thing that she does, even when it involves pleasing you.

A small knot began forming in your stomach, progressively increasing as she took her time exploring your pussy with her tongue - your whimpers and whines sounding like music to her ears, urging her to keep going, wanting to hear more of your pretty sex sounds. Your whimpers filling her ears, followed by begging for her to keep going and to not stop, whines following right behind as you approached your climax. Head feeling dizzy with each step closer to your release, your hips grinding against her face - matching her rhythm.

“Fuck!” You cried out in pleasure, your legs locking around your lover’s head as you came down hard. Your eyes squeezing shut as you threw your head back hard against the pillow. Juices began seeping from your entrance, your lover using her tongue to lick you clean.

As soon as you fluttered your eyes opened, you saw her coming out from underneath the blanket - licking her lips and her eyes fixed upon yours, right then and there, you realized it wasn’t a wet dream, it was real.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she whispered as she gently pressed the tip of her nose against yours, her hand cupping your cheek.

She then pressed her lips against yours, kissing you deeply - moaning against her lips.

“That was, something,” you breathed out as you pulled away from the kiss. Her thumb caressing your cheek as the two of you stared into each other’s eyes. The two of you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“I just simply wanted to try to wake you up in a different way,” she said.

You raised an eyebrow, a faint smile on your lips.

“By sex?” You giggled.

Her face turned slightly red at your reply, instantly moving her face in the crook of your neck to hide her face from you. You placed a kiss on her head then traced your fingertips along her back.

“Interesting on how someone who’s bold enough to fuck me is hiding her own face from me,” you mentioned. She moved her face out of the crook of your neck, looking at you after hearing what you just said.

“Watch it,” she replied.

“That’s more like it..” you whispered.

Your lips met slowly with hers, like the both of you were waiting for the right moment. There was no rush, no urgency - just the quiet warmth of closeness. Each kiss lingered, soft and careful, as if it was both you and her learning the shape of each other’s mouths for the first time. Fingers brushed along a jawline, resting lightly, while the other hand curled gently at the back of a neck.

Breath mingled between the two of you, warm and steady, and every kiss felt like a promise - unhurried, tender, filled with quiet affection. Your foreheads touched between pauses, small smiles breaking through before you both leaned in again, savoring the sweetness of simply being close, wrapped up in each other’s gentleness. Exchanging “I love you’s” between breaths.

[fanficsformyfaves]

Why Are You Doing This?

Zelda Spellman x Fem Witch Teacher!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, Enemies To Lovers Trope, Harassment From Faustus Blackwood, Jealousy, Sexual Tension, Praise Kink (R Receiving), Fingering (R Receiving), Orgasm Denial (R Receiving), Use Of Magic, Strap On Sex (R Receiving), Rough Sex, Scratching (Zelda Receiving), Choking (R Receiving)

PREFACE: Reader was a new hire at the Academy Of Unseen Arts and since the beginning, Zelda has always had it out for her...but not in the way Reader thought

A/N: Flashbacks In Italic!

Ever since I began working at the Academy, she's been the bane of my existence. No matter where I went, what lecture I was teaching or event I was at, Zelda Spellman has made it her personal mission to make my life a living hell.

I wracked my brain for months, but couldn't fathom a possible reason to warrant why she treated me the way that she did. Everything from petty brushes she'd give me in the hallways to ridiculing me in front of students, there were no lengths she wouldn't go to, to ensure I was miserable.

A prime example of this would be the time I was teaching my Potions class. I was brewing a concoction that would turn any object into gold, when she walked in mid-lecture.

"You have to make sure to use an even balance of stable and reactive elements, while remembering and reciting the proper incantation. Any questions?"

I look into the crowd and see the redhead raise her hand.

"Yes, Professor Spellman?", I sighed,

"How do you expect anyone to memorize what you teach with such a dreary approach?", she mocked, earning chuckles and murmurs from the students.

"I mean for Satan's sake, I was lulling off before I even walked in"

To say it took all the strength I had to keep a level head would've been an understatement. Humiliating me in front of our colleagues was one thing, but to do so in front of students? That was the straw that broke the camel's back. So, from that moment on, I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

"Maybe you should get some rest then or better yet, drop dead"

The teens all turn to each other in absolute shock.

"After all, aren't you a few centuries past your expiration date?", I added on.

To my surprise, she seemed completely unfazed by my first ever retaliation. In fact, I could've sworn I saw a slight smirk tug at her lips. She simply turned away and walked off, leaving me with the now rowdy pupils.

That didn't prompt any sort of change afterwards though. The only difference it made was when she would fire at me, I'd fire back and I thought that's just how things were going to be.

Which brings us to tonight. The Lupercalia celebration. Though I didn't quite enjoy the idea of supervising students while they fornicated, I was a member of staff after all and I had certain duties to fulfill. As each pair walked off into the woods, baskets in hand, I go to retreat back into the academy, where a cup of coffee and a book awaited me on my desk.

When out of nowhere, my path was blocked by none other than Father Blackwood. If there was one person on earth I despised more than Zelda, it was Faustus. He was always so condescending and smug with the way he spoke to people. He'd treat everyone as if they were beneath him and I for one wasn't going to kiss his ass the way other female staff members did.

"Good evening, Miss (Y/L/N)", he grinned.

"Father Blackwood"

"A marvelous event, is it not?"

"Sure", I shrugged.

"Why the skepticism?", he narrowed his gaze.

"Nothing"

"Oh, you needn't shy away. You're a brilliant woman and I would love to hear your thoughts", he insists, leaning in closer towards me.

I take a step back to establish some distance, whilst clearing my throat.

"Well, it's just not really my thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure the idea of women getting chased by ravenous men in wolf heads sounds thrilling to certain people, but I don't really get it", I explained, unbothered to hide the sarcasm in my tone.

"Oh?", he challenged, taking a step closer.

"Maybe I could be of service, hm? Change your mind and get you in the...holiday spirit?", he added, backing me up against a tree.

"Faustus", I warned, as he dipped down to look at me.

"What? Are you scared-"

"There you are", a voice called out.

We both turn and there stood Zelda. I never thought I'd say this, but I was actually glad to see her.

"Must I do everything around here? You said you would help me organize tomorrow's event once the hunt had begun and here you are, killing time? This is truly just like you"

"I-"

"We've wasted enough time. I'm sorry Father Blackwood, but you'll have to excuse (Y/N)", she says, walking up to us and hauling me away by my arm before he could even get a word in.

Once we were inside the Academy, she let me go and compelled the doors to close shut.

"You're welcome"

"For what?", I questioned, knitting brows together.

"For this. Rescuing you"

"I didn't ask for your help-"

"Oh, so you enjoyed his advances?"

"No-"

"Then I stand by what I said. You're welcome", she interrupted, leaving me more confused than I was to begin with.

"You hate me"

"Says who?", she scoffed.

I shake my head in disbelief.

"Um, I'm sorry, where the months of you endlessly taunting me just a coincidence then?"

"Oh, that was just me pulling at your pigtails. I find it rather adorable how red in the face you get"

And for the first time ever, I felt something other than malice towards her.

"And even if I did, I don't have to like you to keep you out of harm's way", she added, circling me like a shark in water.

"I guess"

The uncertainty in my voice painfully obvious.

"Besides, we both know you wouldn't let that horrid man lay a finger on you...would you?", she said, dragging her finger down my arm.

"No", I muttered under my breath, as stopped right in front of me.

Her eyes rake up and down my frame, causing an unfamiliar chill to shoot up my spine.

"Very good", she almost whispered, leaning in closer.

Only this time, I didn't find myself wanting to pull away.

In fact, the less distance there was between us, the thicker the air became. I eventually managed to step back, averting my gaze.

"Why are you doing this?", I exhaled.

"It wasn't enough for you to make me miserable, now you wanna play mind games? What do you want from me?"

"I want you"

Tears began to cloud my vision, but not out of sadness, but from frustration and being utterly lost. She had been driving me up the wall since I got here and I nearly lost my mind trying to figure out why.

"If this is another trick, save it-"

"It isn't"

I take in a deep breath, watching her contemplate her next choice of words.

"I've said things, hurtful things and I'm not denying that, but I want to make it known that I meant none of it"

"Sure you didn't"

"How would lying benefit me at this moment?", she rebutted.

"I don't know, to save face? To lure me into a false sense of security?"

She sighs, bowing her head down.

"No-"

"Then what is this? What are we doing here?"

When she wouldn't give me an answer, I got fed up and turned to walk away.

"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest about my true feelings", she admitted, stopping me in my tracks.

"From the moment you've arrived, I've been watching you"

"What?"

"Something about you was just so...tempting. Your doe eyes, your voice...your lips", she says, eyeing them down.

God, if looks could kill.

"I tried to keep away, believe me, I did, but for whatever reason, I couldn't get you out of my mind. So, I settled for teasing you like some petulant school girl which, in hindsight, doesn't aid me currently, but...it got me the attention I was looking for"

Every puzzle piece was falling into place right before me. It all started to finally make sense.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

She raises her brows, scoffing.

"And risk the humiliation had you rejected me? I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm rather headstrong and possess quite the ego. I can only admit this now because I want you to trust me", she explains, taking one last step towards me and leaving only a few inches of space.

"Besides...isn't the chase half the fun?", she challenged.

As the seconds passed, so did the last of my reservations. How was I possibly expected to think straight when the smell of her perfume and signature cigarette smoke filled my senses? When I began to lose my way in her sage green eyes that rivaled labyrinths?

"Zelda-"

"Say the word and I'll walk away", her voice barely above a whisper.

"But please do so quickly. I'm not sure how much longer-"

Throwing all caution to the wind, I finally pull her face into a kiss. A kiss so needy and desperate, I was sure my lips were now painted the same crimson shade as hers were. Her hands take me in by the small of my waist, as mine crept into her auburn locks, grasping at the roots.

It was as if someone set fire to my skin. I was almost certain I would have fallen to my knees if it hadn't been for her firm grip. With a gust of wind swirling around us, we were now standing in a bedroom that I assumed was hers.

"It's not too late", she exhaled, giving me a chance to back out.

"You can still-"

"I want this"

"How badly?", she questioned, grazing her teeth on the side of my neck.

"Please, I need you", I whined, feeling her hand grab my breast.

"Where? Here?", she teased, as my body bucked against hers.

"Or..."

Her hand then slides down my abdomen and into my skirt, cupping my clothed core and earning a gasp.

"There it is", she chuckled, pushing my panties to the side and rubbing up and down my damp folds.

She reveled in them. Each and every pathetic sound that left me. From her low groans and pants, it was as if she could get off by simply seeing me come apart in her grasp.

Once she had gathered enough of my slick, she pushed two fingers into me, as my head fell back with a moan that bounced off the walls.

"You're such a cute little thing", she praised, littering my collarbones with bitemarks and hickeys.

She began curling her digits in and out me, slowly building up momentum, and with each stroke, she would press directly into my g-spot. With her skills, it should've come as no surprise to me when I felt my climax already beginning to build.

I clutch onto her shoulders for support, burying my face into her chest.

"Fuck", I moaned through gritted teeth.

"That's it", she muttered, capturing my lips once more.

Our tongues fighting for dominance, before mine eventually surrendered.

Her pace grew more rampant, almost ramming into me now. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but before I was able to find out, she pulls her hand away, leaving me aching and heavy-breathing.

"Zelda, please-"

"Keep whining and I'll stop all together", she warned, holding me up by the curve of my ass.

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?", she questioned.

"No", my voice merely a whimper.

Smirking, she sucks her fingers clean, whilst humming at the taste.

"God, you're just as sweet as you look", she said, before walking me backwards into the bed, where I fell onto my elbows.

"If you behave, I'll have you coming over and over to your heart's content", she says, running her finger down the side of my face.

Her cat like grin only adding to the anticipation.

"I just need to get your special surprise, but first", she announced and with a wave of her hand, we were both undressed.

Our clothes in a pile on the floor.

I couldn't help but rake my stare up and down her form. She was nothing short of perfection and I internally cursed myself for denying myself this paradise for so long. Every curve and dip, her auburn locks effortlessly cascading down her shoulders and the smudged rouge on her lips. It took everything in me not to lose myself before the real fun had begun.

"Like what you see?"

"Yes", I breathed out, grabbing her by the waist and nipping at her alabaster skin.

With a soft giggle, she saunters off towards the closet, rummaging through a few things, before pulling out a velvet box and making her way back to me. Her slender fingers undo the latch and lifts the lid up to reveal a black strap waiting inside.

My eyes meet hers once more, this time, with a new found fire.

"Help me out, darling?"

I grab the toy and she steadies herself with my shoulders, as I helped her into the harness. Once it was secured around her hips, she pulls me into yet another heated kiss, carefully laying me down and situating herself between my legs.

"You know usually, I enjoy hearing you argue with me", she pants between kisses, whilst pawing at my hips and breasts.

"But seeing you so needy it renders you speechless? Now that's a treat", she adds, throwing my calves around her waist.

I couldn't fight back, even if I wanted to. My mind was not as it was and she didn't bother hiding how much she loved it. All I could do was wrap my limps around her tighter and let out one pathetic moan after the other.

She looks down between us and takes a hold of the toy by its base, sliding the tip up and down my dripping folds.

"Seems like you're adequately prepped", she muttered under her breath.

Without wasting one more moment, she thrusts into me and fills me to the hilt. If there was anyone in this house, I'd made my presence more than clear with the pornographic gasp I let out.

Immediately, her pace was fast and rough, as if she were racing against time. Had it not been for the foreplay, I was sure to be ripped apart.

"Zelda!", I cried out, gripping the roots of her hair.

"You're doing so good. So fucking good", she praised, hooking her arms under mine to ram into me.

My vision faded in and out of darkness from the pleasure overwhelming every one of my senses. The knot in the pit of my tightening with each thrust.

I claw down her back, only encouraging her to go faster.

"Yes! Oh God!"

"He can't help you", she groaned against my neck.

I felt like a raw nerve in the most delicious way. I'd never been fucked this good or this thoroughly in my life.

She quickly took notice of the way she struggled against my clenching walls and wrapped a hand around my throat.

"You wanna come?"

"Yes! Fucking yes!", I cried out.

"Say it, say you're mine and I'll let you"

"I'm yours, fuck, I'm all yours! Give it to me, please!"

Ultimately satisfied with my begging and pleading, she reaches her other hand down to vigorously rub my throbbing clit.

"Do it, show me", she panted.

That was all I needed to hear. I came undone, screaming her name and digging my nails deeper into her back.

"Good girl", she exhaled, kissing my cheek and helping me ride out my orgasm.

By the end, my mind was reduced to mush and the room smelt of sex and sweat. She allowed me to catch my breath, before gently pulling out of me, leaving me whining at the sore emptiness. Once she magicked the toy away, she envelopes me in her warm embrace.

"Shhh, I know", she soothed my whimpers.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hm?", I hummed.

She chuckles at the state of me.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself?", she smirked.

"Mhm", I nuzzled into her shoulder.

"Good...cause I'm not done with you yet"

[multifandomfix]

Zelda Spellman Smut Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Zelda knows aftercare is a two way street, however, she always seems to come first in that department. Once you’ve seen to her needs, she’s more than happy to see to yours, no matter what they may be.

B = Body part (favorite body part of their partner’s)

Zelda loves your chest. She loves kissing it and listening to your heartbeat as it races, beating hard in your chest as she touches you.

C = Collar (do they mark you as theirs in some way?)

Oh most definitely. Zelda is not about to let anyone believe they have a snowball's chance in hell with you, and she’ll mark you as hers with some sort of necklace, perhaps with her initials carved on the back.

D = Dominant (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? are they a top or a bottom?)

Zelda can easily do both. It’s not hard to tell which it’ll be by her mood. If she’s angry, you better believe all of that pent up frustration is going to be taken out on you in the form of some rougher sort of play. Conversely, if she seems happy, then she may be very soft and loving with you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s very experienced in a variety of different types of play. She knows what she’s doing and she does it damn well.

F = Fuck (do they prefer to fuck or make love?)

Most of the time, Zelda prefers to fuck. Making love tends to bore her too easily.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

She’s very serious in the moment, and it’s rare that she ever lets her guard down enough to be goofy in the bedroom.

H = Hot (what turns them on, gets them going)

Whispered words and small handwritten notes slipped into her hand during the day are usually enough to get her thinking about what she’ll be doing with you that night. While a somewhat juvenile act, the whispered promises and passed notes make her feel young and a little bit naughty.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Zelda doesn’t put a strong focus on romance, even during such an intimate act. She will pull out a few more flourishes when it’s a special occasion, like your anniversary.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Zelda doesn’t like to masturbate. She’d much rather someone do all the work for her. However, if she simply cannot concentrate on anything else until it’s out of the way, she will indulge herself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Zelda really enjoys any form of impact play. The marks she leaves on your skin can be so beautiful to her and she simply adores seeing her handprint on your ass.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Mostly the bedroom, but she certainly won’t say no to getting a little frisky in her office at the academy.

M = Mood (what’s the foreplay like? how do you get them in the mood?)

Zelda likes to take her time in undressing, both herself and you. The longer it takes, the hotter she gets.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

While she’s open to trying most anything, the one thing she can’t get behind is bringing food into the bedroom. Not even chocolate or whipped cream. She just doesn’t get it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Zelda prefers to be on the receiving end, but she has no doubt in her own skill of giving when it’s her turn. She knows exactly what drives you crazy.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She’s usually teasingly slow when she can be. Though depending on the type of play you’re enjoying together, her pace will change.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She’s alright with quickies if she’s hard pressed to be somewhere else and you’ve already gotten things started, so to speak, but she doesn’t like them to happen too often.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Zelda is definitely up for a bit of risk. Honestly, she’ll try anything once, and not much care if she gets caught doing it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two to three rounds on average. Again, it mostly depends on the type of play you’re participating in. Higher energy sort of stuff may only bring about one round.

T = Tryst (are they into casual sex or one night stands?)

She’s had her fair share, but she definitely doesn’t prefer them. She likes to have a more consistent bed partner.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She likes to tease a fair amount, though by your standards, it may seem a little unfair, but Zelda does like to hear you beg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

She’s not too loud, really. It feels like too much effort to make so much noise, but you can always tell when she’s enjoying herself. She has this low moan that almost sounds like she’s purring.

W = Wait (how long do they wait before having sex with their partner for the first time?)

Not long, most likely. She’d want to test your sexual chemistry pretty early on to see if pursuing a relationship beyond the sexual was worth the effort.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Zelda has one of the finest lingerie collections. And in a variety of styles as well. She’s always surprising you with some very alluring set that you haven’t seen yet.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high, but it’s not like she can’t control herself. She knows how to manage her desires and when is appropriate to act on them.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not usually right away. It takes her a bit to unwind and make sure you both have had the proper aftercare you needed.

For @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Zelda Spellman (CAOS): @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @derry-n, @riveranddoctorsong123, @magicallover

[traveler-at-heart]

Happy Accident

Summary: Wanda wishes a little too hard for something that seems impossible.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

A/N: Probably will add at least two more parts to this. No one asked for this but it's in my head and I need to write it, ok ily all byeee.

---

The place isn’t even child proof.

But Laura is away for the day and Clint is over his head with three little mini Bartons running around.

Chaos erupts in the Compound as soon as they arrive, but you’re one of the few people who fully welcome it.

Of course, you love Lila and Cooper, but Nathaniel ends up nestled in your arms as soon as Clint walks through the door.

“I missed you” you say to the baby, kissing everywhere you can and making him giggle, to the point where he drools a little. “Is that a teeth?”

“Yeah, he gets itchy” Clint says, defeated. You’d think that having been through this two times would make him more prepared for the growing pains.

Either way, you’re too entertained with the kids to notice Sam and Wanda coming back from training. Your girlfriend’s the one who comes in first, but she stops abruptly at the sight of Nathaniel in your arms, pointing at every kitchen utensil and clapping when you tell him the names of things.

“Heyo” Sam says, almost crashing against Wanda’s back. “Oh… baby fever, huh?”

“Shut up” she hisses, pushing him away as he cackles. Thankfully, you don’t hear it, registering her presence until she stands next to you.

“Hello, darling”

“Me, or the baby?” you joke, kissing her cheek. You pull away, making a face. “You’re stinky”

“Hey, not nice!” she pinches your side. Lila and Cooper come running to her to ask if she wants to play. “Wanda has to shower. Did you guys have breakfast?”

“We had donuts!” Cooper practically shouts.

“Yeah, I can tell” you mumble, noticing the clear signs of sugar rush. “Ok, while Wanda showers I’ll make some food and we can watch a movie, how about that?”

But Wanda’s still holding on to your waist, enthralled by the way you carry Nathaniel and he makes sounds to all your questions.

“Maximoff” you warn her after she makes no effort to move.

“So bossy” she forces herself to step away, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, well, you like it” you tease.

Of course she does. Wanda can’t get the image out of her head, not even with the warm water of the shower. She gets lost in her reflection as she brushes her wet hair.

Wanda had always wanted a family, but it was different seeing you commanding a small army, while holding a very cute baby and making breakfast like it was just another day, instead of an anomaly of normalcy among the chaos of world saving work.

By the time she’s back in the common area, you’re watching a movie with the kids while they eat pancakes.

“Did you know that octopuses build gardens with stones they find?” Cooper asks while you watch Dory interact with the cranky octopus onscreen.

“Did you know they have three hearts?” you say, eyes glued to the screen as you give a piece of pancake to Nathaniel.

“Did you know…”

“Kid, you’re not gonna out nerd me. I used to drag my parents to the aquarium every weekend” you say, laughing when Cooper huffs and Lila shushes him.

“Very mature” Wanda whispers from behind the couch and you chuckle.

“Eat your food, babe”

“Yes, darling”

As the movie keeps playing, you can tell Nathaniel is staying still, probably ready to take a nap.

“I’ll take him to our room. You gonna be ok with them?” you ask Wanda, and she smiles, nodding as you take the baby in your arms, cooing softly.

I want to make a baby with you.

Her thought is so loud, she’s surprised it didn’t somehow end up on your own mind. But you seem blissfuly unaware, going to your room.

Lila and Cooper are definitely not ready for a nap, looking around to find something to play with. Hopefully, Steve learned his lesson and stored his shield away from kids.

“Movie day and no one told me?” Pietro says, and the kids turn around and scream at him. He does the usual, escaping them with his speed until they’re out of breath, giggling. “Where’s little Pietro?”

“Asleep with Y/N” Wanda rolls her eyes at her brother’s insistence of using Nathaniel’s second name. “I’ll go check on them, you got this?”

“Yeah. We can play basketball. You two against me” Pietro says, and the kids cheer.

Luckily, they take all their energy outside, as their baby brother is fast asleep in your bed. Wanda settles on her side, Nathaniel between you two. She admires his small hand around your finger, and even if the both of you are breathing evenly, at the slighest dip in bed, you can feel Wanda, reaching for her in your sleep.

An hour and a half passes. It’s almost comical how in synch you are with the baby, waking up the moment he does.

“Time is it?” you mumble, yawning.

“Lunch time” Wanda says, kissing your temple as Nathaniel crawls closer to the edge of the bed. You yelp, ready to catch him, but Wanda waves a hand, her magic bringing him back.

“That’s kinda hot” you say, making Wanda blush. “Oh, you’re shy suddenly. What? You don’t wanna make a baby with me?”

“Detka” she warns you, Nathaniel too busy floating around in the air, clapping excitedly as Wanda’s magic keeps him there. You’re about to lean forward to kiss her when there’s a frantic knock at the door.

“Help! Wanda!”

“Pietro?” she jumps off the bed, Nathaniel in your arms as the three of you walk out the room.

“We’re hungry”

“You idiot! I thought something happened!” she scolds him, making the kids laugh. “Oh. Pretend you didn’t hear that, please”

“Nice one, babe” you laugh, kissing her temple. “Come on, I’ll make some sandwiches”

“I’ll take little Pietro” Wanda’s brother says, eager to play with the boy.

“Careful” you glare at him, still holding on to the baby.

“I’m always careful” he snaps back.

“Nu-huh. Last time you were running around with him. And I don’t care if he likes it, it’s dangerous”

“Kids can take more than you think. I fell all the time and I’m fine” Pietro says and you scoff.

“Oh, honey, it’s cute that you think that”

As you walk to the kitchen, you keep scolding him, Lila and Cooper right behind you.

“You ok?” you ask Wanda when she finally joins you in the kitchen. You’re making food, but keeping an eye on Pietro as he lifts Natahaniel. “No throwing the baby!”

“But…”

“Pietro Django Maximoff…”

You’re about to give him an earful when Wanda pulls you against her, lips shutting you up real quick.

“I love you” she says with a look in her eyes you can’t entirely read.

“Well… I… love you too, but, the sandwiches”

“At this point we’re gonna starve” Pietro mumbles, rushing around the kitchen and making sandwiches in a second. “Kids! Food’s ready”

“Come on, let’s eat” she smiles, pecking your lips once more.

“Yeah, ok”

—

Wanda throws a punch at the boxing bag, and then another one, until she’s out of breath.

Something’s different, but she doesn’t know what exactly. Ever since that day with the kids, she’s thinking non stop of you, holding a baby, your baby, looking picture perfect.

Kids, running around while you give into the wonderful chaos of domestic bliss, Wanda by your side.

It only got worse after your mission. You’ve been gone for three days, and she can even see it in her dreams. That fantasy, almost too perfect to be possible.

Because it is. You’ve only been together for a year, and Wanda knows she has a long way to go to be deserving of your love.

You, with your perfect record, a loving family, two feet on the ground. Wanda’s the exact opposite, always struggling, always feeling like the other shoe’s going to drop. She doesn’t belong anywhere, and the closest she feels to home is when she’s in your arms.

So, that white picket fence fantasy is just that. A dream. And she needs to wake up.

“What did that bag do to you?” Clint jokes, entering the gym. Wanda laughs, breathless, leaning her head against it to steady herself. “You ok? Did you and Y/N fight before she left?”

“No, it’s not that… I just get restless when she’s not around” she says, and it’s not exactly a lie.

“They should all be back this afternoon. Just in time for Stark’s party” he says, but of course that’s not enough to ease her mind. “Come on, let’s spar. I’ll even pull my punches”

“Oh, sure you will” she laughs.

Even if she knows you’re not supposed to communicate until you’re close to the Compound, Wanda anxiously waits for FRIDAY’s announcement that you’re back from your mission. Barton drags her to the party and she makes an effort to mingle.

But as soon as Steve shows up, she’s running up to him.

“Where is she?”

“Oh, she was taking a shower. Was covered in soot from an explosion…” he waves his hand like it’s nothing, but Wanda’s eyes widen.

An explosion? Are you hurt? Why wasn’t she called immediately to see you?

“Wait, she’s alright! Wanda!” Steve calls for her, but the brunette’s already gone.

“Maybe lead with that next time” Natasha pats his back, smiling.

By the time Wanda arrives to your bedroom, she’s out of breath.

You walk out of the bathroom at the same time she runs into the small place.

“Wanda? Are you ok?” you say, worried when you see how upset she seems.

“Are you?”

“Yes, what do you mean?” you tilt your head, drying your hair with the towel.

“Steve said there was an explosion! Are you hurt? Have you been to the Medbay? We should probably…” she spirals and you pull her hand until she’s looking at you.

“Baby, I’m fine. I was just dirty, you know I loathe to feel dirt in my hair” you sigh, like being in the middle of an explosion is a minor, everyday inconvenience.

“Why didn’t you call me as soon as you got here?” Wanda sits on the bed, only calming down when she sees you acting completely normal, drying the rest of your body and putting on some lotion.

“I knew there was a party. Wanted you to have fun, socialize a little. Honestly, you should go back, baby. I’m probably going to pass out the minute my head touches the pillow”

“I want to be here with you. I missed you” she admits in a low voice, and you drop your towel, not really looking to start anything. You are pretty damn tired and sore, but you’d never tell Wanda that.

She gets a little too anxious and a part of you hates yourself for making her worried.

“You sure?” you turn around, a pair of panties and a t-shirt in your hands.

Wanda snaps her eyes to your face, blushing.

Gotcha.

“Is that why you’re so needy?” you climb into her lap. “Because you were horny”

Wanda’s face rests between your hands, and you don’t give her anytime to reply before pressing her lips against yours.

It’s playful at first, a small, teasing contact that makes Wanda sink in your warmth.

“Where are you going?” you tsk when she makes a move to stand up.

“To get changed. I thought you wanted to sleep”

“Finish what you started, Maximoff” you say, tongue darting out to tease her.

There’s nothing playful about the way she turns you on your back, alternating between kissing and biting your neck and going back to your lips.

It’s surprisingly dominant, the way her tongue invades your mouth. The movement makes you moan, and at the sound, Wanda’s own hips try to find a rythm.

The kiss is how you finally know how much Wanda missed you. It’s frantic and hot, passionate and desperate as she struggles to take her clothes off with one hand, the other pinching your nipple.

“You do remember you have magic, right?” you say when you break apart, out of breath. “Hurry, I wanna feel you inside”

“Detka, fuck” she rasps, struggling to keep from going down on you that very second. Still, she manages to make her clothes go away before leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach and all the way to your center.

“Don’t tease” you remind her with a gentle tug of her hair. Part of her wants to, but the minute she tastes you, she can’t stop herself from eating you out like it’s her last meal.

Stretch me out, ruin me.

“Your thoughts are louder than those pretty moans” she says when you look down, frowning because she stopped. Another swirl of magic and the strap appears around her waist. “Hold still”

“Wanda, stop reading my mind”

“I wasn’t reading your mind, malyshka. I can tell by how wet you already are. Be a good girl” she says, settling between your legs.

Wanda aligns the strap with your entrance, but as soon as she pushes forward, an overwhelming feeling throws her off. She can feel you, all of you. Your wet, warm cunt as you swallow her, clenching and waiting for her to bury it to the hilt.

“Why’d you stop? Baby” you whine, looking up at her with tears in your eyes.

“Wait, something’s not…”

But then you pull her towards you, and she can’t think of anything else. She feels too much, pleasure clouding her mind and pushing away the knowledge that something’s not right.

“Fuck” she whispers against your ear when you clench around her. Whatever is happening right now, Wanda can only think of fucking you, until you’re coming all over her.

“Yeah, just like that” you whisper, satisfied when she starts to move her hips against yours. “Fucking me so good, baby”

“You feel so good around my cock” she says through gritted teeth, making you moan at the choice of words.

If only you knew how accurate they are.

“I’m close” you dig your nails in her back, out of breath, chasing your release. Wanda moves faster, hitting deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Don’t you wanna make a baby with me?

When you come, Wanda’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Her mind’s fuzzy with the feeling of your cunt squeezing around her, but the pleasure also makes the rest of her thoughts come back like a tidal wave.

You, carrying her baby, raising your family, watching kids grow.

Wanda’s movements falter when she comes, crashing right behind you and falling on top of you.

“Sorry, detka. Are you ok?”

“Whadda ya think, Maximoff” you stretch, smiling lazily. “Sleep”

As promised, the minute you settle in bed you’re fast asleep. Wanda stands up to remove the strap and splash some water on her face.

As she looks at her reflection on the mirror, the woman can’t tell if everything that just happened was in her head.

—

The next morning, you make your way to the kitchen, searching for the cookies you hide in a special cabinet.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Steve says and you look over your shoulder, smiling.

“All good, just a little sore from… uh, the mission”

That’s partly true.

“You get that checked?” he says when you turn back to face him, pointing at your neck.

“That’s not from the mission” you say, taking a sip of your coffee and praying he doesn’t notice how much you’re blushing right now.

But Cap looks even more mortified than you, specially when Wanda goes up to you, smiling as you wink at her. You barely register when he excuses himself, leaving the kitchen in a rush.

“Hey, baby. You sleep ok?” you say, kissing her nose.

“Yeah, now that you’re here” she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Part of her is wondering what the hell happened last night. “Was… last night, did you…?”

You tilt your head, curious at her sudden awkwardness. It reminds you of the days when she was new to the team and had no idea how to even talk to you.

“What’s wrong? Did you not like it?” you say, concerned that you did something to make her uncomfortable.

“No! That’s not it at all. I just wondered if something felt… different for you. Not bad, just different”

“Mmm. Nope. I liked you being bossy, though” you kiss her quickly, dragging her back to your room with a smile. “Come on, I’m still tired”

Neither one of you has any idea on how much is about to change.

[natsaffection]

Safe with you. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, readers first time, fingering, praise, aftercare

Word count: 1,9k

A/n: Trying to get through my requests again and found like 4–5 of them were super similar, so here we are. I said it once and I’ll say it again, I’m a huge simp for soft moments and first times.

To anyone scared of showing their body or getting close because of it: You’re not too much, not too little, you’re enough, just as you are. The right people won’t flinch, they’ll adore you. 🫵🏼🧡

You sat curled up under a soft throw blanket, legs tucked underneath you, your head resting gently on Natasha’s shoulder. Her arm was around your waist, holding you like you were the most precious thing she’d ever been trusted with.

Neither of you spoke for a while. The quiet was never awkward with her. It was comfortable, like the silence understood you both. You felt her lips brush the top of your hair, the barest kiss. Then she whispered softly, like she didn’t want to break the calm.

“Can I ask you something?”

You shifted slightly to look at her, already nodding. Natasha’s eyes were so so tender, “Why do you always pull away…when we get close like that?”

You froze, not because she was accusing, but because her voice was so gentle. No judgment. Just love, wrapped in curiosity.

“I’m not upset..” she added quickly, fingers stroking soothing circles on your side. “I just…want to understand you better. I don’t want to cross any lines.”

Your breath caught. She always did that, waited, asked, never assumed. It made you want to cry sometimes, how patient she was with your walls.

“I’ve just…” you began, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve never done anything like that before. With anyone..”

Natasha didn’t flinch. She nodded slowly, encouraging.

“And I guess…I don’t know. I get scared. I feel like I’m not…enough? Or like you’ll see me and maybe regret loving me.”

Her brows furrowed, just slightly. Her grip tightened around you, not possessive, but protective, like she wanted to shield you from every terrible thought you’d ever had.

“Y/n.” she breathed, moving to cup your cheek. Her thumb brushed your skin, so soft. “You don’t have to give me anything to keep me. I love you because you’re you. Not because of what we do or don’t do.”

Your eyes welled up.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” she whispered. “Every inch of you. And if you never wanted to go further, I would still be the luckiest woman alive just to be yours.” You blinked quickly, trying not to let the tears fall. Natasha kissed your cheek, slow and tender.

“We’ll move at your pace. Always. And if that pace is standing still, then that’s where I’ll stay with you.”

You smiled, finally, soft and watery, but real. You pressed your forehead to hers, nose to nose, hearts completely open.

“Thank you..” you whispered.

She kissed you again, this time longer. “You never have to thank me for loving you.”

The silence between you was different now, warmer somehow. Like something had shifted. Not rushed or forced, just…opened. You were still curled against her, only now your hand had moved. Rested lightly against her chest, fingers barely pressing against the fabric of her soft T-shirt, feeling the steady beat of her heart. She hadn’t stopped holding you close, not once.

“Can I kiss you again?” she murmured, voice no louder than a breath. You nodded, and Natasha smiled like you’d just given her the moon.

This kiss was deeper. Not urgent, but certain. Lips moving slowly, learning, savoring. Her hand slid up your side, fingertips ghosting along the hem of your shirt, pausing.

You broke the kiss, eyes fluttering open, and Natasha’s gaze met yours. “You can stop me anytime. You say the word, we stop. No questions.”

Your heart ached with how gentle she was. “I don’t want to stop.” you whispered. “I just…I’m scared. Not of you. Just- me.”

Natasha leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours again. “Then let me love you gently. No expectations, no pressure. Just you and me.” she whispered. “I’ve got you, detka. Always.”

You nodded and swallowed. Then reached for the hem of your shirt and began to lift it, your hands trembling slightly. Natasha stopped you halfway.

“Let me.” she said softly, her fingers replacing yours. She peeled the fabric up, slowly, reverently, like unveiling something sacred. She tossed it gently aside, then kissed your bare shoulder, then the hollow of your throat. You were shaking, and she felt it.

“You’re so beautiful.” she whispered into your skin. “Every inch. I swear to God, you take my breath away.”

You flushed, instinctively covering your stomach. She took your hands in hers and kissed each knuckle before placing them over her heart.

“Right here.” she said. “Stay with me.”

You did. Her lips returned, trailing over your collarbone, your chest. Her hands worshipped you, fingertips like whispers over your sides, your back. She undressed herself slowly, letting you watch, not to seduce but to share, to be just as vulnerable as you.

When your bra came off, you sucked in a breath, eyes dropping. Natasha cupped your face, pulling your gaze back up.

“There’s not a single part of you I don’t love.” she said. “You don’t have to look away.”

And then she kissed you again, deep, slow, and purposeful. As if to erase every lie you’d ever told yourself about not being enough. Eventually, her hands slid down, brushing the waistband of your underwear. You tensed, and she paused.

“Still okay?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I want to. With you.”

She kissed your belly, so gently, then slid your underwear down inch by inch. You gasped when you felt the cool air on your skin, but Natasha’s warm hands never left your thighs. She climbed up beside you again, skin against skin, wrapping you in her warmth.

“You’re safe. Right here.” she whispered, brushing your hair behind your ear. “I’ve got you.”

Then her fingers slipped lower, one hand cradling your jaw, keeping you anchored, while the other explored with featherlight touches. She moved slowly, mapping you, learning what made you sigh, what made you gasp.

Then she kissed you again, tender and deep “Take a breath for me.”

And as you did, she slipped a single finger inside. You let out a high, broken whimper, your whole body jerking forward. Eyes wide, mouth falling open. It wasn’t pain, it was too much. Too intimate. Too overwhelming. Like your body had never realized what it was missing until now.

You instinctively tried to close your thighs, but Natasha was already there, pulling you into her arms, cradling you tight.

“It’s okay, malysh.” she murmured, lips against your temple. “You’re doing so well. Breathe for me.”

You nodded, pressing your face into her neck, clutching at her back. She didn’t move yet, just stayed inside you, holding you like you were fragile silk she’d die to protect.

“It’s so much..” you whispered, trembling.

“I know.” she said gently. “You’re letting me in. I know how big that is.”

You exhaled shakily, and after a moment, nodded again. Natasha eased back just enough to see your face, eyes still heavy, lips parted in disbelief. Her own face was glowing with something close to awe. She looked at you like you were a miracle.

She started to move, slow and deep, just enough to make your thighs tense and your eyes flutter closed.

“That’s it.” she whispered, one hand cradling your face, the other still guiding her rhythm. “Let yourself feel it.”

And you did. A gasp fell from your lips, then another. Your legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. Your body was opening for her, welcoming her in, and it felt good , aching and new and good.

She kissed your open mouth as you whimpered into her, swallowing every sound. “You’re so beautiful when you let go..” she whispered against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed, breathless and caught the way she was looking at you. She wasn’t just watching you. She was adoring you. Smiling, like watching you unravel under her touch was the most precious thing she’d ever been allowed to see.

“Natasha-” you gasped, your voice cracking. “I-“

“I know.” she murmured, moving just a little deeper, making you arch. “I feel it too.”

Your moans came freely now, your body flushed and trembling under her. Her rhythm stayed soft, deliberate, like she was making love to your soul as much as your body. Your hand reached up, tangling in her hair as she dipped her head and kissed your chest, your shoulder, your neck. “You’re mine.” she whispered. “Every part of you. And I’ll never stop loving you like this.”

And when you finally cried out, every nerve in your body alight, pleasure crashing through you in waves, Natasha held you like you were breaking apart in her arms and she was the only thing keeping you whole. She kissed away your tears. Smiled into your mouth, and whispered, “You did so good, baby. So good for me.”

Your face tucked into her neck, your body still humming from what just happened. Limbs soft, breath shallow. It felt unreal, almost. Not just the pleasure, but the way she’d held you through it. The way she’d seen every part of you and loved you more, not less.

She hadn’t let go once. “Still with me?” she murmured, fingers brushing lazily along your spine.

You nodded, your voice too small to speak yet. You didn’t need to. Natasha always listened to more than just words. She kissed the side of your head, lingering, then whispered, “You were incredible.”

You let out a small, bashful laugh, the sound half-buried in her skin. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You let me love you.” she said. “That’s everything.”

She shifted gently, one arm still holding you close while she reached for the throw blanket at the end of the bed and tugged it over your bare bodies. Her skin was so warm against yours. Her hand found yours beneath the blanket and squeezed it, thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay?” she said softly.

You nodded again. She slipped away only long enough to grab a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom, her touch never far for more than a few seconds. She knelt beside the bed when she came back, her face calm, focused, so full of tenderness.

She cleaned you with careful hands, whispering soft reassurances the whole time.

“You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You did so well.”

And when she finished, she climbed back under the covers with you and pulled you straight into her arms like you belonged there, like you always had. You melted into her, your cheek resting over her heart, listening to its steady rhythm. Her fingers threaded through your hair, slow and repetitive, like she wanted to lull you to sleep with love alone.

“Are you okay?” she asked after a while, voice low and careful.

You looked up at her, cheeks warm, but smiling. “Yeah. I think I’ve never felt this…close to someone before.”

Her eyes softened instantly. “That’s because you let me see you.” she whispered. “And I’ve never felt luckier.”

You hesitated. “You’re not…disappointed it wasn’t, you know, more or-”

“Stop.” she said gently, but firmly. “That was everything to me. That was real. It wasn’t about how far we went. It was about you. With me.”

She tilted your chin and kissed you again, soft, slow, and unhurried, just like before.

“I love you..” you breathed against her lips, feeling your chest tighten.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And I’ll remind you every day until you believe how worthy of that love you are.”

You nuzzled into her, completely overwhelmed in the best way. Natasha pulled the blanket higher around your shoulders, wrapping herself around you like a cocoon.

And with her fingers stroking your hair, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear, and the scent of her skin surrounding you, you finally, fully relaxed. You were safe. Wanted and loved.

And this time, you believed it.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Proven (Amanda Young x Reader)

smut

Continuar lendo

[slash-me-please]

HIHIHI I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM AND I SAW THAT YOUR WILLING TO WRITE FOR AMANDA YOUNG BUT IF YOU DONT FEEL LIKE IT THATS COMPLETELY OKAY ALSO!!

Can you do jealous Amanda x Fem reader? Somewhere around reader and Amanda having a complicated relationship and reader is an apprentice. Another apprentice flirts around with reader and Amanda doesn’t like it at all :$ Also some NSFW but if your not in the mood for it you don’t have to add it!

I hope you have an amazing day 😋😊

I love writing for Amanda!!!! I'm so happy to be getting more fem requests because I am a gay mf. Anyways on with the story.

-In the event that Michael Marks survived, he has became an apprentice. Michael Marks. Yknow, the key in the eyeball guy. So, let's begin.

A Deeper Understanding

Warnings: Literally nobody getting along, Jealous!Amanda, Cursing, Threatening, Fingering, Domish!Amanda, Getting Caught

John Kramer had collected quite the assortment of a team. He hoped at least one of you would continue his legacy perfectly. He'd make sure before he died that he'd live on through the lot of you. You were all currently at the workshop, bullshitting about random tests and other people you were interested in "helping". There was about four of you there, Dr. Gordon couldn't make it, like usual. Michael Marks had been your second choice, Gordon has always been your first.

His eyes traveled down your body, a look that made you feel a certain type of way, not a good way. He was your partner though, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm glad everyone is here," John smiled a thin smile, Jill stood across from him, eyes trained on his every move. You knew that it'd been hard on her since his diagnosis. "I need your help with the scalping seat, I'm not sure it'll get done on time." He took a pause, "I've had some other things to tend to, my apologies."

He hadn't been looking at you, you weren't the mechanic of the group. John looked to you for ideas for traps. You had a knack at creating a symbolic test, one which would change the looks of the masses. Michael stepped forwards, eyes lingering on you for too long for someone who had just needed to build a trap. "I used to work as a car technician before Homeward Bound," He said, bending down and looking through the gears. "Unless Hoffman can do better." Hoffman wasn't much for Michael, he stayed silent.

"Nobody wants you to touch anything, you hardly beat your test. I don't know why John even wants you here because you're obviously not even serious about him." Amanda stood from her spot near John, she walked forwards and towered over Michael- only for Michael to size her up. "What are you even talking about?" He barked, his chest puffing. "Amanda calm down, we need to finish this trap. Brenda's test is what matters." John corrected her, his composure was always impenetrable. "No John! Have you seen this guy? He's been eye-fucking Y/N since we got here!"

Amanda's fists clenched as she yelled back at John. She seemed ready to blow a fuse, and you were thankful for it. "As far as I am concerned, He has not said anything to Y/N that has made her uncomfortable." "But-" "No, we'll deal with him later, we have to focus on the contraption now, we'll deal with him later. I need you to act level-headed if you're going to carry out my legacy." Amanda huffed, speeding past the group and into the hallway. "Amanda!" You yelled after her, jumping down from the table and following after her.

You found yourself in a grimy hallway, off to the side was an opening to what you presumed was where Amanda had went off to. You stepped forward, watching as the curtains to the archway swayed back and forth. "Amanda?" You called, and she opened the swaying curtains as you stood in front of them. "Finally got enough of Mr. Fuck-me eyes?" You shook your head. "We're not... doing anything." She nodded, stepping away to move back to a decaying workstation. You saw she had her reverse bear trap on the table, she seemed to be fixing something wrong with it.

"What are you doing to it?" You wondered, she glanced over at you for a moment. "John gave it to me to fix, fucking Hoffman took it somewhere and it broke." She gulped. "I hate this thing, but I'm about finished." Amanda was grumbling as she fixed her trap, she seemed elsewhere and you could tell that this was a coping mechanism for her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, and with a sigh she sneered. "I just don't understand why Michael is even here, he hardly completed his test and he's an asshole y'know?" Her voice elevated, and she turned towards you. "He's awful and I just don't understand why he can't leave you alone!" Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening as she stared right at you. "Uh-" But you cut her off, hands coming up to hold her face. It happened to turn out that she would be the one to press forward and kiss you. She only let it escalate from there when her hand moved to reach under your shirt and pull you flush against her chest.

Her nails dug into the plush of your stomach skin when she picked you up and placed you on the workbench, shoving the bear trap off to the side. Amanda placed kisses on your collarbone as you worked to pull your shirt off, and in the heat of the moment she found herself dizzy with lust. She had been dreaming about this moment since you joined the group, and she thought she might've entered her dreamworld when you finally got your shirt off. "You're fucking perfect," She mumbled, the androgynous tang of her voice flowed through your core and straight between your legs. You opened them right up.

Amanda leaned forward, tongue landing flat on your nipple and sucking at it until it pressed hard against the pad of her tongue. With her left hand, she groped you passionately, and she praised how you fit in her hand perfectly. You had leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the top of her head as she pushed your skirt up and over your ass, eager to get where she had wanted to touch most. You blessed her with it, gripping the edge of rotten wood when she hooked her long fingers inside your heat. "Shit..." She mumbled, her left hand dropping your tit to push you back by the stomach. You stumbled back against the wood with a whine, biting onto your left hand as the other gripped her wrist.

Amanda watched with an intense gaze as you moaned into your hand, she was more than interested, her left hand moving to rub circles on your clit as she fingered you. Your hips pushed against her fingers, desperate to feel more of her as she pleasured you- you knew her thoughts of Michael Marks were gone by now, her gaze enraptured by the way your cunt sucked her in. She felt herself becoming devoted as she listened to the gasps and whimpers you released of her name- you felt the same.

She began to kiss your hips as your legs shook around her fingers and your whines became more noticeable. Amanda gathered she had to be doing something right, her ego inflating as you rode her hand. "You're doing so well Y/N," She whispered, the fingers on your clit speeding up. You cried out, "I'm so close..." yelping when she pushed her fingers deeper and shushed you. You felt your insides clench and twitch, legs spreading wider as you held her wrist against your sex- whining out a flurry of "Thank yous," While you finished on her hand.

Finally, you leaned back down, huffing against your hand. You reached out to maybe grab her, and she reached to pull her shirt off. Unluckily, she didn't make it far when you heard Michael open the curtains, halfway through his sentence. "I'm sorry Amanda, I didn't- oh!" His eyes landed on you, and you yelped, flailing to cover your body as he stared.

Amanda's lip twitched in annoyance, pulling your skirt down with a little bit of attitude. You knew it wasn't directed at you though. "If you do not get the fuck out of my office, I will literally blow your brains out Michael."

And he turned around, scurrying down the hallway. Amanda turned back to you, giving you a happy kiss on the lips. "Maybe we can arrange a date this week?"

[halfadeckofcards]

Too Late I'm Dead

After rushing out from a Jigsaw survivors meeting, you meet another survivor who isn't exactly intent on attending group therapy. A companionship blossoms, and then a friendship. And then, something else.

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Fandom: Saw Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB!Reader Word count: 5.1K Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral AO3 link: Here

Author's Note: And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway. Hope y’all enjoy! <3

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

[jiggy-manda]

gf amanda headcanons <3

nsfw under cut

very touchy feely. always touching you, needing to have some type of physical connection to you. whether it’s holding hands or just simply brushing against you, she has to have some type of physical contact

very attached, sometimes a bit paranoid… she trusts you won’t leave her or cheat on her and she knows you love her unconditionally but she’s just a bit silly sometimes and lets her thoughts get the best of her 🤧🤧

you always make sure to reassure her, telling her you love her no matter what even if she makes mistakes sometimes (we all do)

kisses. kisses kisses KISSES!!!!! she loooves any type of kissing. forehead kisses, cheek kisses, neck kisses, knuckle kisses… your skin is constantly tinted red from all the love marks on you 🥰🥰

takes the lead in the relationship because of her past issues with trust, but oftentimes lets her guard down around you and will let you “be in charge” in private.

takes the lead in public but secretly loves being doted on and cared for. (she would never tell anyone tho and said she would withhold sex for 3 months if you ever told anyone. as if she could even last that long)

nsfw gf amanda headcanons

top. top. TOP!!!!!!

she LOOOOVES having control over you

prefers to give rather than receive

obsessed with edging… she just wants to see you fall apart 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

one orgasm is NEVER ENOUGH!!! quickies are basically the only time you’re one and done… other than that, expect a solid few hours crossed off your schedule for her plans with you

mainly a top yes BUT sometimes when she’s feeling fancy she’ll let you take the lead… not for the long tho. she usually just ends up acting like a power bottom

into bondage in the sense of blindfolds and cuffs but is a bit iffy about knifeplay or anything sharp… you’re okay with a bit of knicks small cuts, but with her history, she’s terrified of hurting you 💔💔

knifeplay is a hard limit for her on the receiving end. as much as she likes seeing you fall apart, it’s too much of a trigger for her to feel completely safe if she’s the one “under” the knife

we’ve established that she’s a top

but tbh she’s lowkey a service top

just wants to please you in any way possible… u want to have sex in a bathroom? she’s there. in a changing room? oh absolutely. she’ll do anything you ask for, but of course she’ll make it seem like her idea 🤭🤭🤭

[softanddarkk]

Love lessons : Amanda Young (saw) Modern AU

When you’re jigsaws apprentice there is little time left over for a love life or dating, especially when you are as emotionally tourtured as Amanda - but sometimes a one night stand becomes a two night stand and so on & so on.

Amanda Young x fem reader

Warnings: sexual themes, talk of gore, mention of tinder (which is scary to some of us, but this is the only modern AU aspect, everything else is pretty canon)

Tinder is a cesspit of humanity, truely. Modern dating, as simple as it may be, is actually quite the task. You spend hours scrolling through unsuitable or outright unattractive suitors, accieneltly swiping the rare good prospect because you have such a swipe left muscle memory. When you do successfully match with someone who is at best your type, often just bareable - it’s a 50/50 if they match with you. And then if it IS a match, it’s a rush to form a date or be forgotten forever.

Amanda doesnt have the luxury of spare time. Working for John isn’t exactly shift work; she works on a task that he gives her until it is finished to his standard - which is impeccably high.

And that’s never been an issue for Amanda; before John she had nothing but an absent family and a drug problem. John didn’t just give her purpose, he gave her a reason to live.

Amanda often felt her only reason to be on this earth was to help further Johns work; but a girl has needs all the same.

Amanda first downloaded tinder when she had too much alcohol after a particularly nasty day in the meat factory. Since being “sober”, Amanda only drank when she knew she wouldn’t be under the watchful, perceptive eye of John. So after one long, partially bloody day she decided what better to do with her time but too look at what the city had to offer.

Amanda found that not only was it incredibly easy for her to find a match, but it boosted her ego to meet up with these people who wanted her enough to take her home and have sex with her without her even so much as giving them a crumb of information about herself.

That was fine by Amanda; why fill anyone in on the terrible backstory when she could get her leg over and move on.

It wasn’t complicated, it wasn’t tiresome, and most importantly - it didn’t distract from her work.

She humoured all genders; after all, Amanda didn’t exactly stick around to worry about how well she connected with these people. A few tried to stay in contact but Amanda made it brutally clear that she wanted one thing and one thing only, once that was over and she was travelling back to her flat alone she would not have to think about that person again. Not ever.

Until, you.

It was a typical Saturday night, after a long week of crafting and plotting, Amanda needed a physical outlet. She had been talking with this one girl on tinder for a few days and arranged to meet tonight to let off some steam. The girl had picked a partially seedy bar in the sketchy side of town; which told Amanda all she needed to know about this girls intentions.

However, as she checked the grubby clock hung behind the bar, the sure set plan of booze induced sex with a stranger seemed to be derailing slowly. Her match was now half an hour late, which wasn’t a concerning amount of time, but Amanda was impatient.

Swilling her spirit around the glass, she surveyed the room for her date. A group of trucker looking men sneered over a group of girls in a booth, pretending to play pool instead of preforming borderline harassment. One of the girls was catching back to the men, and Amanda looked away as she stood up, making her way to the bar with one of the older men in tow.

The bar tender took her order, Amanda didn’t care to listen, checking her phone for what could be upwards of the twentieth time since noticing her date was late.

“And he will get whatever she’s having too”

Amanda looked up, three sets of eyes on her. The girl had snaked an arm over her shoulder, which would normally be a move Amanda would have met with a stern glare and a hard shrug, but this girls perfume was filling her nostrils and, blaming her distinct level of horniness and lack of company, Amanda wasn’t exactly opposed to the physical touch.

“That’s okay isn’t it, you’ll buy my friend a drink too”

Amanda looked blankly at the older man, his expression mirroring hers. However he twigged on before Amanda, his brain in his pants helping the one in his head get up too speed.

“Sure sweet cheeks, anything for a pretty girl like you”

Amanda internally curled up and died at the level of disgusting this man radiated. She may have thrown a dig, a snap comment that would disarm his confidence; but the mystery girls arm was still around her shoulders and its warmth was radiating through her leather jacket. The girl twirled Amanda’s hair absently with her outstretched hand, such a foreign feeling to Amanda, but one she found herself enjoying one the less.

“Go on then”

Amanda was sprung back into the moment when the girl turned to her, tugging her hair in the process. Her eyes were framed by a thick lash, her makeup slightly worn to show her blushed cheeks underneath. Amanda murmured her order, never taking her eyes off the face staring back at her.

The bar tender made the drinks up and the trucker paid, looking to the mystery girl expectantly.

“Come on then, sweet thing”

The girl turned back round to face him, not before rolling her eyes for Amanda to see.

“Thanks for the drinks, I’ll be over for that game of pool in a second”

The man looked dejectedly at the pair and then scuffled off, most likely realising he had just been used for his wallet.

“Sorry about that, I didnt want to get stuck with him alone” Amanda felt disappointed as the girl removed her arm from her.

The girl flipped her hair, thanking the bar man for her drink and giving Amanda one last smile before turning to leave.

“I’m Amanda by the way”

The words had left her mouth before her brain had chance to catch up.

And when Amanda thinks back now, that’s when it started. She still wasn’t sure what “it” was, but it was something different.

Just like everyone else she’d been out with, she drank with you, but she was actually listening to what you had to say, not just pretending to get you to come home with her. She was interested in you, she wanted to know more.

Something was different, and it made Amanda feel physically sick. Normally when someone touched her she felt nothing, if not a little threatened, but when you touched her she felt nervous. Those butterflies that she hadn’t felt since she was a young teen, before her life went to shit, came back from the dead. And every time you looked up at her from under your lashes, or laughed at her jokes, or touched her leg, they fluttered round her stomach.

She should have left then and there, fled that bar and never looked back. In her head she excused herself, went too the bathroom and climbed out a window for gods sake. If that’s what it took.

But she came home with you, and she felt like that taxi drive was the equivalent to picking a plot, digging and then jumping into her own grave.

Because sex with you wasn’t like how sex was with everyone else. And there had been many, men, women, all those inbetween. Some had been poor, some had been mediocre and some had been pretty good. Amanda had came, sometimes multiple times if she was lucky.

But it was never like this.

Touching you was enough for her to be soaking. She felt your pleasure with her own; and god did she try to give you pleasure. Amanda had never cared if she made the person she had sex with feel good, call it selfish if you want, but she knew she would never see them again and could not bring herself to care enough about what they would remember of her.

But with you, she wanted you to come so many times that her name would be forever branded on your soul.

And maybe yours would be on hers, but that was just too vile for her to comprehend.

Amanda didn’t like people. She didn’t care for their opinions, thoughts or feelings. But with you, she wanted you to see only her good. She felt tense when your hands brushed over her scars on her thighs, she was embarrassed, she didn’t want you knowing she had to do that too deal with her pain. Some of the scars were relatively fresh, which made her feel even more sick about it. What must you think?

When you took the time to kiss your way over those scars, Amanda thought she might pass away there and then. From shock and maybe something else.

Sex had never been tender for Amanda, it was a rough battle of wills, and one that she quite enjoyed. She had never been touched how you touched her. And sore she probably never would be again.

So in the morning,she left before you woke. She couldn’t face seeing you in daylight, not after what you shared

She left to never see you again, never hear your name, never feel those feelings again.

But it was a lie, because before she left she couldn’t resist leaving her number on a note on your bedside table.

And as she scurried back to her day to day, her rat race of trap making and information gathering, she put you too the back of her mind.

It was easy to focus when she had her hands busy, she only thought of you when she saw the colour of your eyes in her tools.

Or when she felt the wind tug her hair how your hands had.

Or when she got on the bus and smelt your perfume on another passenger.

But it didn’t matter, you were a fabrication of her mind - nothing but a fantasy.

She moved on, kept herself focused how she knew best.

She went on more dates, slept with other people. Nobody like you, but sometimes when they touched her she closed her eyes and pretended it was you. Sometimes she would taste their lips and be disappointed they weren’t yours.

And when she lay in bed alone, when her little flat was still and the world felt like it was slumbering outside her window, she would always think of you.

Until, her phone vibrated under her pillow. And she moved embarrassingly fast to see that screen lit up with a unsaved number, Amanda was smiling before she knew how to stop herself.

Because as much as she knew you would be the death of her, she simply wouldn’t want to die at the hands of any other.

[cccocoapuffs]

Amanda Young NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) The absolute sweetest, she loves to wrap up in your arms and cuddle. She makes sure that you know you're loved before anything and she wants to pamper you in all her love and kisses.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Amanda loves her hands, after all she builds her traps with them and they helped her survive her test. She loves that they allow her to feel you and make you fall apart for her in the bedroom. She loves her partners eyes the most, she is someone who believes that someone's eyes tell you everything and that its the closest to a soul.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Amanda loves to eat you out after you cum, she loves the way you taste and just can't get enough.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) She wants to run away with you, she feels such a connection with John because she feels like he saved her but deep down she knows the truth . She dreams of the day you two can go away someplace and live a happy life just the two of you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Amanda is decently experienced, she had a few flings in her college aged days however she has more experience with women more than men.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Amanda likes 69 the best, she loves eating pussy. She loves that she can pull you closer to her face and hold you there till she's done making you cum.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) She's very serious during sex mostly because she wants it to be intimate and romantic, though she loves to see you smile during it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Amanda stays pretty well groomed, she trims it down it just stubble though the stubble is slightly darker than her normal hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Amanda is very intimate, she loves to light candles for a little extra mood setting and making sure she does plenty of foreplay to get you fired up and ready for her.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Amanda doesn't masturbate, she didn't have the time before and ow she has you so there isn't a point. She tends to relish in loneliness prior to you two dating so it was hard for her to get aroused anyway with no one around.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Amanda is into some slight bondage she doesn't wanna do anything that can even come close to hurting you. She loves to use a strap on though and you use it on her as well. Overall she's a little vanilla but she is insanely intimate and loving with you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) At home in bed, it's the safest and most comforting place to her. She wants nothing more than to keep you protected even during sex.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Her love for you to put it quite simply. She is so attracted to you and truly gives you all her heart, if you return to her the same energy she promises to absolutely rock your world ever night.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Anything that involves you being around her work or being inside of a trap. She also wants to keep you as far away from Hoffman as she can.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Amanda prefers giving, she loves pussy and knows how to eat it just right to make you squirt over and over on her face. She loves to finger you while she pays special attention to your clit.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Amanda likes slow and sensual unless straps are involved then she likes to pick up the pace and wreck you. However if she's the sub she wants you to go and on her and rail her into the mattress.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Amanda is more into quickie like teasing then actual quickies, she wants to make sure she gives you something to remember. While she wouldn't say no to one she definitely doesn't prefer them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Amanda is down to experiment and down to take some risks. She keeps it safe though, she definitely would try a knife or gun kink with you though the gun has to stay unloaded at all times and she'd never actually cut you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Amanda usually lasts about 2-3 rounds, she can actually be quite energetic in bed and that's why she tends to go for so long. She loves to make you cum at least twice before calling it quits though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Amanda owns a few toys, vibrator, dildo, and of course a strap on. Her favorite though is a clit sucking toy she owns that has a warming function.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Amanda loves to tease, her favorite thing to do is sneak up behind you and kiss up and down your neck before attempting to suck a small hickey on you. She loves to finger you under tables too.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Amanda is kinda loud, she tends to get really into things and loses all sense of volume control or care about who hears, if you wanna stay quiet you're gonna have to cover her mouth.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Amanda loves body worship but she gets to flustered to give it likes she wants to.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Amanda has a vagina obviously.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Not very high until she truly gets to know you. When she falls head over heels in love with you she will start to be more frequent in wanting to fuck.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Once you snuggle up to her and get under the blanket she starts to doze off. She feels safe and so warm with you that it just lures her right to sleep.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Left Unsaid

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst (happy ending!), sex, fingering, explicit language, surgery times (duh), (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You used to be Dr. Shepherd's favorite resident, but something had happened in the last month that drove you further apart than ever. Will it get resolved (hint: yes, it does)?

“You, out!”

You stood, flabbergasted, in full scrub, suctioning blood out of someone’s brain-deep head wound. The OR had gone deathly silent, and if they could’ve seen your face under your surgical mask, they would have seen you blushing bright red.

All you’d done was ask a question. All you’d wanted to know was why Dr. Shepherd had gone after the brain bleed at the angle she did, because it wasn’t the angle you’d expected. You were a surgical resident. Asking questions is what you were supposed to do.

“Dr. Shepherd, I–”

“Uh-uh. You? Out of here. You’re distracting me, Y/L/N. And if you can’t focus on saving this man’s life, you don’t need to be in here.”

Frustrated and more than a little embarrassed, you handed off the suction tube to another resident and quickly burst through the doors and into the scrub room, washing your hands furiously. You felt like crying. You didn’t know what was going on these days.

During your intern year, you’d gotten really close with Dr. Shepherd. She’d sort of take you under her wing, said you had the right mind and hands for neuro. You worked well together, almost read each other’s thoughts sometimes, it seemed. But the last month or so, she’d all but banished you from her service.

You knew part of it had to be Webber’s new initiative for “well-rounded surgeons,” a new protocol where residents were cycled between attendings at random, with no favoritism or preference allowed. But even when you were assigned to neuro, Dr. Shepherd always put you on the other neurosurgeon’s service. She hardly talked to you at all.

You wondered if you’d done something wrong, something to completely ruin the mentorship–no, the friendship–you’d felt like you were forming with Dr. Shepherd. Not only did you miss her company, miss working with her, but you missed neuro.

You spent the rest of your day on neuro doing glorified scut alongside the interns. Humiliating. And when you finally went home, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and order Chinese food. But a text from your cohort group chat reminded you that tonight was the annual Surgeons for Surgeons benefit gala. And unless you wanted to be fired, you’d have to show up, bells on, ready to mix and mingle and convince Seattle’s rich and famous to donate to the program that connected Seattle-Grace with its partner hospital in Nairobi.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before leaving. Thanks to a very artful layer of makeup, you looked a little less exhausted than you really were. And you had to admit, you looked good in a suit.

By the time you and your friends arrived at the gala, things were in full swing. Wine, music, twinkling lights, the whole shebang. You were determined to have fun with your friends, despite whatever weird stuff was going on with Dr. Shepherd. You’d had a few glasses of wine, had danced with a few other residents, and had generally avoided Dr. Shepherd, even though once or twice you’d caught her watching you. Let her feel bad, you thought. She was out of line.

But when you were on your way back from the bathroom, a hand shot out of a hallway and gently grabbed your arm.

“Jesus, Dr. Shepherd,” you complained, straightening your suit as she crossed her arms and looked at you, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You just…” She threw up her hands. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve been avoiding you!?” You scoffed. “Dr. Shepherd, you haven’t talked to me in over a month. I went from being the de facto neuro resident to being bottom of the barrel in your OR. So forgive me if I’m not jumping at the opportunity to chat with you.”

Dr. Shepherd looked at the ground. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed. “Look, I don’t care if we’re friends, okay? I– I would have liked it. I like you. But my career comes first. And whatever’s going on with us got in the way of that today. So whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Okay? But I love neuro. And I’m good at it. You don’t have to talk to me ever, outside of work, but you cannot keep me from surgery.”

You started to walk away, but she stopped you.

“Y/N!” she called, grabbing your hand and holding it for just a moment too long. You were taken aback by her use of your first name. She always called you Dr. Y/L/N. “I don’t want that.”

“Okay…” You shrugged. “So put me back on your service.”

“No, I mean…” She exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You liked Dr. Shepherd. You really liked her. You thought she’d liked you. You thought that in another life… But it didn’t matter now.

“Message received,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“God, that’s not what I meant. I’m fucking this up.” She looked at you almost like she was in pain. As if there were words she just couldn’t get out. “What the hell,” she finally mumbled, then grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. But her lips felt so good against yours, her hands warm and soft against your skin. This was what Dr. Shepherd had wanted with you, why she’d been avoiding you. And, if you were honest with yourself, it was what you’d wanted to, you’d just been too scared to let yourself admit it.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing her into the wall to deepen the kiss. She whined into your mouth, her tongue fighting for entrance, and you knew–by the arousal shooting down through your very core, the wetness pooling in your underwear–that this would not end here tonight. Amelia’s arms snaked underneath your blazer, searching for skin.

“Why do you have so many clothes on?” Amelia muttered breathlessly, painstakingly unbuttoning the collar of your dress shirt, then continuing on to the lower ones.

“Whoa!” You grabbed her wrists, pushing them away. “We’re in a public hallway, Dr. Shepherd.”

She huffed, pulling you by the arm into the closest room, which turned out to be some poor soul’s vacated office at this event venue. She slammed the door, taking her own turn to push you against a surface. It took your breath away.

“Don’t call me Dr. Shepherd when we’re about to have sex,” she said, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Fine, Amelia,” you retorted, and she smiled into a kiss. She liked a little sass in a woman.

With one hand, you rolled her nipple between your fingers. With the other, you moved slowly down her body, gently pulling up her dress to slip a hand into her underwear.

She gasped as you brushed lightly over her clit. “Fuck,” she breathed, throwing her head back. You smiled, happy to have a little power. Amelia might have all the power in the OR, but you had all the power here. You could tell by the way her hips rolled toward you, by the way she leaned heavily on the desk at her back–she wanted you bad.

She breathed heavily, squeezing your arms as she pushed her hips into you, desperate for the friction, the pressure. You grinned wickedly and removed your hand, licking her arousal off your fingers.

“Y/N!” she protested, glaring at you.

“Hmm.” You pretended to be thinking deeply, circling the rest of her vulva so that you were close, so close, to where she needed you, but not quite there. “You know what? I bet this feels a lot like being knee deep in a surgery and then being pulled for no reason at all.”

“I said I was sorry! Please, Y/N.” You had her squirming and writhing and you were getting drunk off her desperation.

You pushed two of your fingers into her warmth, already so wet, so ready for you, and she moaned. “I mean, I guess, if you insist.” You smirked at her, loving to see her lose control. She was always so in control at work. It was honestly something you admired about her. But right now? All you wanted was to see her coming apart.

There was a part of you that wanted to tell all the residents, to tell everyone that you were fucking Dr. Amelia Shepherd. But there was another part of you–deeper, softer, more you–that wanted to keep her all to yourself. Because some part of you knew that it wasn’t just sex, no matter how much easier it’d be if it was.

Amelia’s breathing grew ragged, her walls pulsing around you and you knew she was close. You circled her clit with your thumb, and she thrust her hips up into your touch, chest heaving, legs shaking. And when she finally, finally hit her peak, you scooped your arm around her back to hold her up, keeping your rhythm steady until she came down, resting her head on your shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her face.

“Fuck!” she breathed, lifting her head to grin at you and tuck your hair behind your hair. “Your hands.”

“That’s why I’m such a good surgeon.” You winked at her.

“That’s why you’re good at a number of things, apparently.” Amelia pulled her underwear up, straightening her dress.

“Well,” she shrugged. “Should we go back in?”

You scoffed. “I’m certainly not.”

“Why?!”

“Are you kidding me!? There’s a fucking lake in my underwear right now. I gotta go home.”

Amelia smirked, pulling you down by your collar for another kiss. You couldn’t take much more of this. You needed her. Or a vibrator. Or a dildo. Or something.

“You want help?” she asked, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You blushed. The tables had turned all of a sudden, and she was the one with the power now. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be good.”

She laced her hand in yours, squeezing it. “Take me home, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“What if someone sees us!?” you hissed, looking both ways out the office door.

“We’ll slip out the back.”

“Sneaky.” You nodded. “I like this side of you.”

Glancing furtively around, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck, taking you by surprise. You gasped.

She pressed her lips against your ear. “I’ve got a lot of sides you haven’t seen yet.”

God, you couldn’t wait to see them.

[norwayromanoff]

Finish What You Started (Also known as I Am Never Taking You to Work With Me Again)

NR x a civilian!r troublemaker that Natasha is just so enamored by that r can do no wrong

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: you finally manage to convince a rightfully reluctant Natasha to bring you with her to work

(You also get her to let you eat her out from under a table in public, so 18+)

You’ve asked time and time again and have always received the same answer: an assertive, non-negotiable ‘no’. Not a ‘not today’, not a ‘maybe next time’. A ‘no’. Firm, unrelenting, and not allowing for any further discussion.

Despite the constant rejections, you remain undeterred, bouncing back after each denial, remaining not only persistent but also incessant in your requests. You know you’re more stubborn than she is. With each plea, you can see that you’re chipping away at Natasha’s resolve, see that her exasperation and subsequent yielding is increasing. She’s weakening, and it only furthers your determination.

Sitting at the kitchen table, blearily rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you watch as Natasha moves to the coffee pot, pouring a mug for both you and herself.

She continues her amateur barista work, adding some cream and sugar to yours as if it's second nature, and gently passes you the steaming cup. You mumble a quiet thank you, hoping the bitter liquid will help you shake the cobwebs from your head and figure out a way to once again ask the question that's been spilling nonstop from your lips for the past month and finally obtain the answer you’ve been waiting for.

Natasha relaxes at the table as well, taking a seat, and you both remain in a what you hope is your usual comfortable silence, slowly sipping on your coffees. But despite your best efforts, Natasha easily senses you’ve got something to say, and she’s pretty sure that she knows what it is, her eyes drifting toward you.

“The answer is still ‘no’.” She breaks the quiet.

Your lips press into a thin, displeased line, but then you go and feign ignorance. Unfortunately, there's no keeping anything from the redheaded spy. Even if you disregard her years of intelligence training, the woman knows you better than you know yourself.

“I didn’t even ask.”

She gives you an unimpressed look. “No, but you were going to.”

You let out a relenting sigh. “Please,” you decide to try, “I have the day off, and you said that it's supposed to be a slow day for you. Come on.” You extend the last word, trailing it off into a long whine. You've always wanted to visit her place of work, to see S.H.I.E.L.D. for yourself, and today is the perfect opportunity.

You can sense her knee-jerk response, you can practically feel another refusal sitting on the tip of her tongue, but Natasha surprises you, shaking her head and muttering about how she’s certainly going to regret this. It’s too bad she never could say no to you.

The moment you step inside the base, you understand some of her hesitation, her unwillingness. The two of you are on the receiving end of glances that range from curious to utterly baffled. It turns out, none of her coworkers knew that she was in a relationship (something about privacy and safety and all that), and they definitely didn’t come to work today expecting to see the big bad Black Widow acting soft toward another person.

She initially sets you up with level one security clearance, handing you your badge, but your petulant protest (“Natasha,” you whine, “what about girlfriend perks? I deserve at least level three.”) gets you an eye roll and a reluctant agreement under the condition that you don’t wander off, and soon, she’s leading you throughout the elaborate hallways of the building. On today’s agenda is paperwork, meetings, training recruits, and yet another meeting.

During the morning, you casually peruse her office as she tackles her paperwork, hands clasped behind your back, eyeing the plain walls and lack of trinkets and personal touches. There’s singular photo of the two of you on her desk, your expression a bright grin, hers a smirk, and although it warms your heart, you can’t resist your next words.

“Your office is boring.”

“I’m here to save the world, not to interior decorate,” she throws back at you quickly, not glancing up from her mission reports.

When Natasha eventually has to attend her first briefing, she gives you explicit instructions that you are not to leave her office. You easily agree, waving off her concern, and spend your time continuing to inspect your surroundings. Boredom ultimately causes the temptation to snoop to become too irresistible, and you begin to open drawers and cabinets, to toy with a few important-looking documents on her desk. But her office is sparse, too sparse, and your initial determination to follow her instructions gradually dwindles. Not long after, you’re opening the door, peering out into the hallway, and casually exiting the room when you see no one, trying to walk as if you belong.

You wander aimlessly throughout the base, taking a left here and a right there, unperturbed with the potential of getting lost. You pass by a multitude of other agents, and considering the attention you attract, your casual strut and nonchalant demeanor are not as subtle as you are hoping. Unlike your girlfriend, perhaps you were not made for espionage, your civilian clothing and captivation toward the technologically advanced building around you giving you away.

Despite the suspicious stares you glean, your exploration is left unhindered for quite some time, most electing to throw a confused glance your way but, in the end, turn a blind eye. Your phone buzzes with a text after approximately two hours. How you’ve made it this far with no trouble is beyond you.

‘I thought I told you to stay put.’

‘You did.’

‘And?’

‘And I got bored. You left me in too small of an enclosure with zero enrichment.’

‘Where are you?’

‘That’s a good question.’

You get a bit of enjoyment out of Natasha’s growing irritation that you can sense through your phone, but your amusement is cut short by an agent that is apparently unwilling to ignore your presence like the others. What timing.

“Hey, you. What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Just… following orders, surveying the area.”

“But you don’t have clearance to be here.”

“Yes, I do,” you try, not knowing if there’s any validity to your statement. You hurriedly grab at your badge, holding it up. “I’m level three.”

“And you need to be level four to access this floor.”

Shit.

“What’s your name?”

“There’s just been a misunderstanding. I got mixed up. I’ll head back now and-”

“What’s your name?” the agent demands again.

You still don’t answer, eyes wide. You’re sure you look like a deer caught in the headlights as you flounder to come up with a way to talk yourself out of the predicament you seem to be finding yourself in.

Ever your knight in shining armor, Natasha rounds the corner as the man is twisting your arm behind your back, effectively restraining you, not that you had the ability to resist anyway.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” you mumble, the position straining. You don’t know how your girlfriend handles pain on the daily. “Do I at least get a phone call?” you snark, foolishly deciding to take the chance at making things worse.

“Stand down,” Natasha calls out, voice firm but not without a degree of exasperation, unhappy but unsurprised that you’ve gotten yourself into a situation such as this. “She’s with me.”

“Agent Romanoff, you know this woman? She’s been walking around a restricted area, refusing to answer questions, and resisting procedural arrest. She wouldn’t even tell me her name.”

Natasha shoots you a disapproving look as she walks over. “Unfortunately, yes, I know her. Now, let her go. Please.” The last word is a warning, almost a threat, a direct order from a superior.

You’re roughly released, stumbling slightly at the abruptness of the action, and Natasha instinctively reaches out to steady you, her hand now secure on your hip.

“Thank-” you start to say, but you’re cut off with a grumpy “let’s go”.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice my office askew,” Natasha adds flatly.

Following the morning paperwork, meetings, and your narrowly avoided detainment, is lunch. You two find yourselves in the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria, but quickly, you’re the cause of another scene.

After what feels like the millionth time overhearing some not-so-hushed whispers gossiping about you and your relationship, you just can’t take it anymore. You stand up, chair scraping loudly against the floor, gaze pointed at a trio of agents on the other side of the room. The whole cafeteria goes silent as people freeze in place to watch your little display. Natasha closes her eyes, taking in a calming breath as she gets ready for whatever it is you’re about to say.

“Yeah, I know right? I’m dating her. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. Her. This woman right here. We have sex. Often. Her and I. Her,” and you point emphatically at your girlfriend who’s sitting across from you with what’s now becoming an incredibly charmed expression on her face.

You turn to her, voice turning low. “Natasha,” you whisper, “tell them.”

She just huffs out a breath before addressing the agents that had been chattering. “It’s true,” is her terse statement. “This little spitfire here is my girlfriend,” and her exasperation wars with affection.

Your outburst and her confirmation get them to quiet, and you turn back to her. “Anyways, what were we talking about?”

Natasha chuckles. “What we are having for dinner tonight, but I think a topic change to how you’re causing quite the ruckus for me at work today is in order.”

Natasha decides it’s best to bring you along with her to her next task, wanting to avoid any further trouble after the two little (and hopefully only) stunts you’ve pulled. She’s scheduled to spar with new trainees, and while that sounds simple enough, nothing could have prepared you for what you were going to witness. It turns out that watching your girlfriend easily take down multiple other agents is harder than impatiently waiting for her to complete her clerical work and meetings. The rosy tint of your cheeks and the subtle clenching of your thighs as you sit on a nearby bench betrays the way her workout attire and the sight of sweat dripping down her collarbone affects you. Your core begins to throb shortly after the first match starts due to the well-defined muscles of her biceps flexing each time she throws a punch, her abs being on full display, sinfully uncovered by her sports bra, and her leggings leaving almost nothing about her ass to the imagination.

She finishes up the sparring sessions, having defeated every new recruit with practiced ease, and waves you over to her, chest heaving with only slight effort, a thin sheen of sweat coating her already stupidly attractive form. You bite your lip to suppress a groan. Just the action of her hand coming to settle on the small of your back as she leads you out of the training room feels almost indecent.

Natasha once again ushers you to her office, pointedly telling you to actually stay put this time, and leaves you to entertain yourself while she goes off to shower and then see to her last meeting, but your imagination is running wild, and your arousal grows exponentially in her absence.

The only thing you can think about is your girlfriend ravishing you. You want her to roughly press you against the wall of the hallway and kiss you senseless, you want her to reacquaint her fingers with your pussy in a bathroom stall, her other hand placed over your mouth to contain your moans, you want her to bend you over and fuck you on top of her conveniently barren desk. She once mentioned that her office door locks and that the walls are soundproofed, so what exactly are you both waiting for?

As Natasha escorted you to her office earlier, she casually pointed out the room that she’s going to be in, offhandedly gesturing to the chair that’s her assigned seat as you two passed the open door. You couldn't help it, entire body still flushed with desire, breathing hardly able to be considered normal. You took note of the room number, paid close attention to which chair she’s going to be sitting in, and memorized the path to and from her office.

She pressed a chaste kiss to your temple before heading off, assuring you that she would be back quickly. But, given that show she just gave you with her body skillfully pinning down those of the other agents, given the way you can currently feel your clit rub against the seam of your jeans with every step, you don’t think you can wait that long.

While she’s preoccupied with her shower, you make your move, doing your best to inconspicuously walk back to the meeting room. The door is closed this time, but you can't help but smirk to yourself as your level three clearance grants you access, your badge opening the door with a green light and satisfying beep. Peeking through the doorway, you fortunately find the area empty, allowing you to enter, drop to your hands and knees, and crawl underneath the long conference table, positioning yourself in front of what you know to be her seat.

Only minutes pass before you hear commotion outside the door. The door once again beeps open, footsteps entering the room, and you can make out your girlfriend’s voice talking amongst the chatter. As the multiple people get seated, Natasha included, placing herself in the chair you’re situated in front of, you lick your lips in anticipation for what you’re about to do. Natasha is so going to kill you for this later.

You let the meeting begin, not moving, not acting, waiting, heart thumping loudly in your chest to the point that you’re concerned it’s going to give away your spot on your knees, but despite the sound of it beating wildly in your ears, no one appears to be aware of your presence, and once everyone seems deep in serious conversation, you’re unable to resist any longer, the apex of your girlfriend’s thighs just too enticing.

Your hands move, slithering up her calves, pressing against her knees, spreading her out for you. You immediately feel her body stiffen at the contact, her own hands quickly but discreetly shooting down to grab at you, to stop whatever is happening, to stop whoever is touching her, but when her eyes flicker down and meet yours, her brief moment of alarm dissolves into calm disapproval as she realizes that it’s just you. Of course, it’s you. She looks at you reproachfully, but you begin placing gentle open-mouthed kisses up her inner thighs anyway, making your way up to her core, tongue skimming along the fabric of her slacks, and when you glance up at her again from between her legs, you see the surprise, warning, and objection in her gaze faltering.

You continue to languidly mouth at her covered pussy, applying just enough pressure so that she can feel it, and soon you notice a damp spot appear, sticky and wet, your saliva and her slick mixing together and soaking their way through both layers of her clothing. Her thighs attempt to shut, to ward off your touch, but your hands firmly keep her legs open, preventing her from closing herself off, and despite her sending you another deterring glance, her body reveals her need. She may be playing at resisting, may be attempting to remain outwardly unaffected and displeased by your bold and reckless decision, but she wants this just as much as you do, and as you finally begin to breathe in the heady scent that is uniquely her, you can’t wait any longer. You need to taste her, and you can tell from the way her breathing has sped up, imperceptible to those around her but not to you, that she needs you to too.

Your hands move up to fiddle with the button and zipper of her pants before you tap gently at her thigh, indicating she needs to raise her hips so you can smoothly slip them down. There’s a moment of hesitation on her part where she carefully casts a glance at those also in the room, eyes sweeping across the faces of the others sitting at the conference table, where she considers the consequences of allowing you to continue with your daring venture, but all it takes is a strategically placed trail of your finger along the seam of her slacks and she’s lifting her hips up, giving in to the need, the desire, that you know is steadily building within her.

Quietly, you pull her pants down, the fabric sliding along her hips, her thighs, exposing more and more of her flushed skin, and her hips subtly buck up once as the cool air of the room hits her now bare core, the feeling almost making her gasp out loud. You don’t allow her any time to prepare before you’re tugging her forward, shifting her weight until she’s on the edge of her seat, and your lips quickly find their way to her pussy, sucking on her clit for a few seconds before your tongue swipes through her folds repeatedly.

Everything about your touch is gentle, caressing at first. You don’t want to give away what you’re doing, you don’t want the others to find out, you don’t want your renowned secret agent girlfriend to get into trouble, and so each circle of your tongue around her clit only floods her body with more desperation as your unhurried ministrations persist, slow and leisurely. The fidgeting of her hips in her seat gradually evolves to full on squirming as the minutes pass, silent requests for you to give her more, but you don’t comply, your lips and tongue still moving with zero urgency, their soft brushes lingering and delicate and much too light for her current state, neglecting her rising need.

“Do you have any notes, Agent Romanoff?” one of the agents asks suddenly, breaking Natasha out of her lust-induced haze.

Her gaze jumps to the agent that had spoken, and she scrambles to find an answer, mouth opening and closing a couple of times, not having been listening to the conversation, too distracted by the feel of your mouth on her overheated core.

“What?” she asks, the word coming out more strangled than she’d like it to, and she clears her throat, struggling to center herself, to refocus.

“On the mission plan?” the agent prompts further, raising an eyebrow at her confusion, “The drop we’re set to infiltrate next week in Bulgaria?”

“Oh, um, I-” she’s cut off by your tongue beginning to lazily probe at her entrance, and she bites her lip, hard, in order to stifle the loud moan that wants to break free.

“What was that?” the agent presses, his confusion transforming into slight concern at her stuttering. The Black Widow doesn’t stutter.

Natasha just shakes her head, breathing getting heavier as you continue to push your tongue in and out of her hole, her slick staining your lips in the most satisfying way, your nose nudging against her clit with every movement.

“Nothing,” she says much too quickly, clearing her throat again, “No, nothing. This all sounds fine. I have no adjustments to make.”

Upon her, albeit not at all reassuring, answer, the agent moves his focus elsewhere, giving her one last confused look before the meeting resumes and she gets caught back up in your concentrated motions.

You pick up the pace once the attention is off your girlfriend, lapping away at her now sopping pussy with newfound hunger, trying to muffle your own moans and whines of pleasure at the taste of her, at the feeling of her. She’s intoxicating, the way her body clenches around your tongue, her walls fluttering with each dip inside, her pussy welcoming your intrusion with a fresh stream of arousal that drips down your chin. Your knees are certainly bruising, your back aching from the strained position, but you hardly think about it, too overwhelmed by everything that is Natasha to care, devouring, savoring, every bit of her.

Natasha’s trembling in her seat, every muscle pulled taut. Her hands grip the edge of the conference table in an attempt to restrain herself from making any move that would disclose what is happening. Her clit is pulsing as you roll your tongue over it again and again, her whole body feeling as though it’s vibrating with pleasure. Each flick of your tongue causes more arousal to leak down and pool onto the chair beneath her.

Despite all of her training to keep her composure, you’ve always been her weakness. She can never get enough of you and finally can’t hold back any longer, one of her hands diving down to grab at your hair, dragging you closer to her pussy, holding you firm, her hips beginning to grind into your mouth.

Her movements are subtle, unrecognizable from above the table, but her desperation is clear to you. You can feel her need in the way she holds you steady, trying to set a rhythm that will relieve her ache. You flatten your tongue, your head stilling, allowing her to use you and guide your motions as she sees fit.

You’re mid-lick when the meeting comes to an end, everyone standing up slowly and filing out of the room except for your girlfriend.

“You coming?” an agent asks her, also concerned over her unusual behavior as she remains stiff in her seat, face redder than it should be for this air-conditioned room.

There is a moment of delay, but Natasha finally manages to choke out a weak, “Be out in a minute. I need to check over some last few things."

That seems to satisfy the others, and once the last of them exit the room, the door snapping shut, you disconnect your mouth from her pussy with a loud, wet ‘pop’, and peek up at her from under the table, mouth glistening with her juices, a more than pleased expression on your face at the trouble you just caused her.

“Good meeting?” you ask casually, “Ready to go?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. You’re not done yet, detka. You’ve been pushing me all day. Now, finish what you started,” Natasha murmurs lowly, and you're not complaining when she roughly shoves your face back between her thighs.

[nessheartnat]

Uncertainty

older!natasha x younger!reader

warnings: established relationship, age difference not specified, fem!reader, r is a people pleaser, dom/sub dynamics, r being a bit of a brat, r being overwhelmed but not realizing it, r sucking at communication, lots of praise, soft sex?, dom!nat but then soft!nat, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), sweet aftercare

notes: this took a different turn than I planned, but I guess it’s actually better this way… sorry for all the grammar mistakes and other errors, this is not proofread properly. the beginning kinda sucks, but it gets better towards the end I promise!! honestly I’m so nervous about posting this, I haven’t been writing for so long so I’m hoping that this doesn’t totally suck. anyways, enjoy and don’t be afraid to leave a comment! My inbox is always  open for feedback :)

words: 3,3k

men & minors do not interact please!

Restlessness and anxiety had been bothering you all day long. You couldn’t relax properly, couldn’t shut down or silence your mind from its constant running. You were constantly fidgeting with the hem of your tank top, tapping your fingers against each other or picking at your fingernails. Natasha was at work for another two hours, and you were all alone in the apartment that felt too big for your spiraling thoughts. You missed her. You missed your girlfriend, even though she had been gone for only a few hours.

Pathetic, you whispered to yourself. You knew you were being too clingy, or at least you thought so. You wanted to text her, just to tell her that you missed her, but you had decided that you wouldn’t. You thought you shouldn’t bother her while she’s at work, at least not with something as pathetic as yearning.

After a while, you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You decided not to text her that you missed her, but send her a photo instead. A photo of yourself. Naked. Surely she would mind that less than a pathetic ‘I miss you’ text, right? At least you looked good.

Natasha saw the message immediately. The three small dots appeared in a second on the bottom of the screen, indicating that she was writing an answer to your filthy surprise. The symbol disappeared, then reappeared. Finally, Natasha answered.

From: Nat <3

My coworkers almost saw that, baby.

You smirked and bit your bottom lip, as you typed an answer to her right away.

From: me

Oops, my bad :) 

Natasha’s reply came almost immediately. 

From: Nat <3

Are you bored? Do you want to get in trouble?

You couldn’t help but giggle. While this wasn’t your original plan, though you knew sending a photo would get you in trouble, you didn’t mind at all. You decided to play along, as you figured it was more entertaining than to back down and submit.

From: me

I don’t know, I could always send another pic?

In a few seconds, the reply came, sending a rush of heat straight down to your core.

From: Nat <3

Don’t bother. I’m leaving in 10, you better keep your fingers off of your pussy or you’re in trouble.

And then, another message right after that.

From: Nat <3

Wait for me on the bed. And don’t put any clothes on, since you seem to love being naked around the house anyway.

Your lower stomach tingled with anticipation, and you could already feel your pussy clenching, even though Natasha wasn’t home yet. But she would be soon, and you knew you were in trouble. 

-

In a few minutes, you were sitting on the bed naked, legs crossed neatly as if that would make you look more innocent. You were feeling even more restless than before, and the anticipation of what was coming didn’t help at all, it only made things worse. You wanted to open your legs and touch yourself, but you knew Natasha would find out. And when she’d find out, you wouldn’t be coming for the rest of the day. As enticing as the thrill of it sounded, you didn’t want to be deprived of an orgasm just because you couldn’t wait.

Your mind cleared the second you heard the front door click. Natasha was home. 

You clenched your thighs together and pressed your sweaty palms against the mattress. Now you had to be good, if you still wanted this to go your way. Still, you could feel the doubting thoughts filling up your mind. Surely she wouldn’t be too mad, right? You weren’t sure if you should be regretting your decision to bother her with that photo. She didn’t sound like she was mad, just being dominant, right?

You waited for Natasha, as the older woman was taking her sweet time. She knew you’d be there waiting for her, and she didn’t want to make this too easy for you. Eventually, you could hear the sound of her footsteps outside the bedroom door. Natasha entered the room, still wearing her work clothes, those damn pants that hugged her thighs and waist perfectly, and the white blouse that made her look way too hot.

Her eyes found yours immediately, as she walked over to you slowly. She stopped in front of you, and motioned for you to stand up with her finger. 

“Stand up,” she ordered simply, her voice low and commanding. You complied instantly, all defiance draining out of you. You expected to feel the need to submit to her, and you did, but not like you wanted to. Instead of the hazy subspace creeping in slowly, insecure thoughts filled your mind instantly, and before you even realized you were doubting everything about yourself. Was I too much? You thought to yourself. Is she actually annoyed with me? You wanted to submit to her, to be good. You couldn’t afford to be bad, you had to be perfect.

You stood there in front of her, completely naked and bare under her gaze. Natasha’s eyes were glued to your bare body, her lips turned into a smirk. Natasha sat down on the bed, and pulled you a little closer to her.

“God… Aren’t you a pretty little thing..?” she mumbled, her voice slow and deep. Your mind was already too far gone to answer properly, so you just nodded brainlessly.

“You look so pretty for me like that…” Natasha’s hand slid up to your cheek, stroking it softly with her calloused fingertips. For a moment, her eyes looked almost soft, as they admired your flushed face. But then, the same dominance from before found its place in her eyes, and she pointed to the floor in front of her with her finger. “Now kneel.”

Your body reacted before your mind could even comprehend the command. You sank to the floor on your knees, settling between her legs. You looked up at her, seeking for her praise like it was the only thing that mattered now. You needed to hear her praise you, to reassure you, but you couldn't say it out loud. You tried to push your own feelings down, so you could only focus on being good for Natasha. That’s what you wanted, right?

“Good girl… I knew you could obey if you wanted to. Now, do you think you’ve been good enough that you’ll get to cum today?” she asked, clearly expecting an answer from you. You blinked for a moment and tried to gather your thoughts to form a coherent sentence, but your brain got stuck on the words ‘good enough’. 

Natasha slipped two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze up to meet hers. Her eyes softened again for a moment, as they searched yours for signs of discomfort. Natasha had noticed the hazy look in your eyes, the way your mind seemed foggy and unclear. She stroked your cheek with the pad of her thumb softly, and you couldn’t do anything else than stare at her mindlessly. You couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. You couldn’t really figure out anything, as your mind was too crowded with your insecurities and doubts. You just wanted to be good.

“You good, pretty girl?” she asked, tapping your cheek gently to get your full attention. You blinked and forced your mind to clear up, but it was hard. You were already teetering on the edge of your mind, trying to fight the overwhelming whirlwind of your thoughts.

You bit your lip for a second to get yourself grounded into this moment. You nodded quickly, not trusting your voice. Natasha’s gaze assessed you, and she shook her head a little. Panic flared in your eyes for a tiny moment. She wasn’t pleased with you? Did you do something wrong? Were you not-

“Y/n, baby, look at me. Words, love. Use your words, don’t just nod at me,” Natasha corrected, her thumb still drawing slow circles on your cheek.

You blushed, and felt a small relief flood in. You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t get any words out. You didn’t know what to say, or even how to do it. Despite the relief, your mind was stuck on being afraid of failing her.

Natasha’s eyes softened even more, as she heard a soft whimper leave your mouth. You looked down, and felt all of your emotions crash down on you. You felt pathetic, like you were a disappointment. You covered your face with your hands, as the first tear rolled down on your cheek. The only thing you could think was that you failed her, that you failed to be good for her.

“Oh devochka… Come here baby, come here…,” Natasha murmured softly, and soon you felt her arms wrapping around you. She pulled you up gently, and you went with her, and climbed to her lap. Natasha gathered your body into her arms, and gently pushed your head down so your cheek was pressed against her chest and her chin rested on top of your head. Her hands started stroking your back in slow circles, as she held you close.

“It’s okay baby.. You’re okay love, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she whispered into your ear, and pressed a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I-I’m sorry..,” you managed to whisper, as you nuzzled your face closer to her chest, seeking comfort in her warmth.

“Moya lyubov’.. You have nothing to apologise for… It was just too much, was it?” Natasha asked, and you felt another gentle kiss on top of your head.

“No it.. I mean y-yeah I guess a bit but-” you rambled, but Natasha silenced you with a soft hush.

“Baby, you know you can say if it is too much, right? I want you to talk to me, not hide your feelings,” she said. You nodded a little against her chest, and pressed even closer to her. Natasha’s grip around your frame tightened, making you feel safer in her embrace.

“I’m not mad at you, dorogoy.. I know it’s hard for you, but we really need to work on this, okay baby? I need to know how you’re feeling, because your feelings matter just as much as mine,” she said, and you could only nod in agreement. 

After a long while, Natasha tucked two fingers under your chin and gently lifted your head up, so she could look you in the eye. Your eyes were slightly glassy, but you weren’t crying anymore. You looked back at her, and didn’t try to avoid her gaze, even though it made you feel exposed and vulnerable. 

“I want you to tell me what you want right now, okay baby? Please, just the first thing that comes into your mind. What do you need now, love?” Natasha asked. Her thumbs started drawing slow circles on both of your cheeks again. 

“I um..,” you started, still unsure of what to say. “I want you.. I need you,” you finished the sentence with a little more confidence.

“You have me, love. You’ll always have me,” Natasha said with a small smile, and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Do you want me to make you feel good, or do you want me to just hold you like this?” she asked, knowing that it was easier if she led you on.

“I think.. I think I want to continue. I want you to make me feel good but.. But I want you to feel good too and-” you started rambling again, but Natasha pressed her finger against your lips and silenced you.

“No baby, don’t think about me now. I will make you feel good, but tonight is only about you now, okay?” Natasha decided. Her words weren’t exactly a question, and you should have just nodded, but you couldn’t. 

“But I should-” you tried to argue, but Natasha’s warning look silenced you before her actions could. 

“Milaya devochka… What did I say? Tell me,” Natasha commanded, but her voice didn’t carry any harsh authority. 

You looked down at your hands for a second, but then lifted your gaze back up. “That tonight is about me..,” you mumbled. Natasha smiled softly, and patted your cheek gently. 

“Good girl… Please don’t argue with me on this, okay?” she asked, and you gave her a quick nod.

Natasha took your face into her hands properly, and pressed her lips softly against yours. You found yourself kissing back instantly. Your hands travelled up on her body and looped behind her neck. Your hips inched closer to her, and Natasha’s hands found their way down on your bare thighs. She pulled away from the kiss, only to grip your thighs and maneuver your body so that you were now sitting in her lap, straddling her. 

Natasha’s hands stroked your thighs softly, making you shiver. You blushed slightly as you realized that you were already completely naked, while she was still fully clothed. Your hands moved to the collar of her blouse, and you tugged on it softly. 

“You want my shirt off, baby?” Natasha asked with an amused smile playing on her lips. You nodded quickly at her question.

“Go on baby, you can take it off,” she encouraged with a soft smile that worked like magic to boost your confidence. As soon as she lifted her arms up, you hurried to grip the hem of her shirt, and in a blink of an eye her shirt had found its way on the floor. You slid your hands on Natasha’s sides, and glanced at her chest, as if asking for permission to take her bra off. Natasha quickly understood what you were indicating, and nodded, granting you permission.

Your hands moved quickly to remove her bra, and soon her upper body was completely bare, just like yours. 

“Good girl,” Natasha praised gently, and slid her hands to your waist. A small squeak left your mouth as Natasha flipped you down on your back against the mattress. She smirked a little and straddled your waist. You looked up at her with hazy eyes, but this time the cloudy feeling creeping into your brain wasn’t insecurity or doubt. Instead, it was the comforting feeling of knowing that you were safe with your girlfriend.

Natasha leaned down to kiss you again. Your lips found hers quickly and your hands moved to her back, desperately pulling her closer. Your hips bucked up and you let out a small, soft whine into the kiss. Natasha chuckled softly and pulled away from the kiss, her face hovering just an inch away from yours.

“Patience, malen’kaya lyubov’,” she reminded you gently. “You’ll get what you want.”

“Your pants,” you mumbled quietly, trying to request her to undress completely. The small amused smile found its way back to Natasha’s face, and she sat up, moving her hands to the waistband of her pants. Without saying a word, Natasha pulled her pants and panties off, knowing that you wanted her to be completely naked too.

As soon as the last item of clothing fell down on the floor, Natasha’s lips were against yours again. Your hands gripped her back again, and you bucked your hips up again, only to be met with Natasha’s palm pressing your lower body back down against the mattress. 

Before you could protest, Natasha slid her hand between your thighs. She pushed your legs open, murmuring small praises under her breath and between kisses. You felt her hand slide upwards on your inner thigh, until you felt her fingers sliding in between your folds, making you let out a soft sigh. Natasha’s lips moved to your neck, and she started planting gentle kisses in all the places she knew you loved the most, Right behind your ear, your jawline, and then down to your collarbone. 

Her fingers spread your folds before gently slipping one into your clenching pussy. You closed your eyes and let out a soft moan, as Natasha started moving her finger slowly, letting you get used to it without overwhelming you. Your mouth fell open slightly, and soon you didn’t bother to suppress your sounds at all. 

“That’s it… Good girl, moya khoroshaya devochka,” she murmured against your neck, before she slid a second finger into you. Your pussy clenched around her fingers, desperately needing more. Natasha picked up the pace a little, while still being extremely gentle. 

Her mouth moved down to your chest, as she planted slow and gentle kisses between your breasts. Natasha kept moving downwards, until her lips met your lower stomach. She pulled her fingers out of you slowly, earning a small, desperate whine from you. 

“Oh you’re being so good for me baby… Just let go, let go for me,” Natasha murmured, before nudging your inner thighs with her nose, pushing them wider apart. As soon as her mouth made contact with your cunt, a needy moan spilled out from your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl for me now,” she murmured against your heat. Her tongue found your clit quickly, and by that time, you were already trembling. Natasha held your thighs open with one hand, while the other crept up and found your breast. She brushed her fingertips over your hardened nipple, earning another loud moan from you. You arched your back and tried to clench your thighs, but Natasha’s strong hand kept them open. 

Whimpers and moans came out of your mouth, as Natasha’s tongue played with your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the final release. Her fingertips circled your nipple at the same time, making you lose every last coherent thought you had.

“Nat- I-I’m gonna..,” you whined out weakly. 

“That’s it, let go for me baby… Come for me milaya,” Natasha murmured softly against your core. Her tongue pressed against your clit, making you arch your back and let out a loud moan. Finally, your orgasm washed over you, making your thighs tremble. Your eyes were closed, your breathing was heavy, and your body fell limp as soon as the last waves of your release had passed.

“Such a good girl for me,” Natasha praised, while pressing soft kisses on your inner thigh. Your body was completely limp against the mattress. Your mind was foggy and cloudy, but in the best way this time. There was no insecurity or doubt, only the feeling of belonging to Natasha, and being safe with her.

Natasha moved to lay down beside you, and before you had a chance to react, she pulled your exhausted body into her arms. You let yourself be dragged into her embrace. Natasha’s arms wrapped around you, and she guided your head to rest against her chest with your cheek pressed right against her breasts, just the way you liked.

“My sweet girl… You did so good baby,” Natasha mumbled while pressing gentle kisses into your hair. You managed to respond with a small hum, as you closed your eyes and let yourself relax. Your head felt pleasantly fuzzy, the only thoughts being the safety and warmth of Natasha and her praise.

“We should get you cleaned up a little,” Natasha suggested, but you just shook your head against her chest. 

“No… Stay,” you demanded tiredly. Natasha chuckled affectionately, and started petting your hair in slow motions.

“Okay baby, not yet. We’ll just stay right here,” she promised. Her arms tightened around your relaxed frame, and you felt another kiss being pressed into your hair. You nuzzled your face closer against her chest, earning a soft sigh out of her.

“You’re my perfect girl, you know that?” she praised you, but you were barely even comprehending that anymore. Your mind had slipped into the comfortable cloudiness, and it was only a matter of time before you’d fall asleep. 

“I love you so much, moya milaya devochka..,” you heard Natasha murmur into your hair, before the weight of exhaustion pulled you into sleep.