PAIRING: Amanda Young x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 800+
SUMMARY: John chose Amanda, but Amanda chose you. And now you were all hers.
WARNINGS: toxic ish relationship? and relatively tame, if not a little rough, smut. a little blood drawn, marking, fingering (r!receiving) etc.
A/N: This is uhh pretty much my first time writing smut since I ... was a teenager poorly writing it with way too much hubris. Please be gentle LOL
It felt almost violent. And yet, there was a tenderness to it. The way you and Amanda broke each other down and then built each other back up. The way you licked each other’s wounds. You were both volatile, rough around the edges, but soft in the middle. Damaged.
How could either of you ever have anticipated this? She’d chosen you. You barely knew each other from before, but she’d seen you. Seen through you. Your brokenness, your madness, she wanted to help you. Wanted to push you into metamorphosis. And so you were tested.
You were tested and then, in her hands, you grew wings. She primed you into something entirely new. Now you worked with her, you were set to be the one to stand by her side as she continued on John’s work.
You didn’t really feel like you belonged. But Amanda held you close anyway, her arms like a cage. You couldn’t fly away. But it wasn’t like you really wanted to, even despite all reason. You felt something for her, something deep and endless. You could never quite find a name for it. Longing was too simple, too pretty. Love felt cheap. It was all so much more and far uglier.
She saved you. Maybe you didn’t belong here, but you belonged with her.
And she liked to remind you that you belonged to her as well.
You’re in your shithole apartment, up well past 2 am. You could rarely seem to sleep these days, with dreams came memories. Ones you’d rather keep buried. The urgent knock on your door at this hour has you jumping out of your skin. When you look through the peep hole and see Amanda, the relief that washes over you is brief, your worry for her overtaking any previous fears.
You open the door, immediately leaving room for her to come in. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
There’s this dark look in her eyes, like there’s a storm brewing inside her. “I just wanted to see you,” Amanda says. “I…” She takes a deep breath, it almost sounds shaky.
“What are you thinking about?” A gentle attempt at prying.
She looks at you, and in the darkness of her eyes, comes a certain reverence too. Amanda shakes her head. “You. Just you.”
You open your mouth to speak, but find yourself at a loss for words. You want to press further, knowing her, there was much more underneath the surface. But you can’t find it in yourself.
Amanda decides to take advantage of your surprise, yanking you closer by the hips and kissing you deeply, roughly. You react on instinct, kissing her back with just as much fervor. She backs you into the wall, bites your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You moan at the feeling and metallic taste.
Her mouth trails down your jaw to your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin on her way down. You were falling apart, her actions already eliciting needy whines. As your hands tangle in her hair, her own hands begin to wander further. Tracing your abdomen, feeling your curves, hand ghosting just above your waistband. “God, please,” you pant out, desperate.
“So needy for me already, hm?” Amanda says, voice just above a whisper, mouth ghosting over your ear. It makes you shiver.
“You’re torturing me,” you whine.
She huffs out a laugh, amused, but ultimately just as eager as you. Finally her hand finds its way into your sweatpants, slipping past the fabric of your panties. Your breath hitches, breaking into a full moan as she teases your folds. “You’re so fucking wet,” she says. The way she slowly rubs circles on your clit has you gripping onto her arm.
“Mandy,” you moan. That’s when she finally slides a finger inside.
“Tell me you’re mine,” she says, her pace inside you slow and steady.
“Fuck, I’m yours.” She makes quick work of proving it too, as she adds another finger, speeding up and curling her fingers just right.
“Say it again,” she sucks and bites at your neck so hard you know it’ll leave marks.
“I’m yours, I’m yours.” You cry out, her fingers pumping in and out of you. God, it felt so fucking good. You were like any other machine under her skilled, calloused hands. She knew exactly how to work you.
She kisses you sloppily, your moans getting higher pitched and breaths growing heavier as you get closer and closer to your peak. All you can do is helplessly pant and moan into her mouth. You feel that familiar coil tightening in your stomach, before finally unwinding. You cum screaming her name, “Amanda.” Your head was devoid of anything else now. She swallows the sound with a rough kiss as she lets you ride out your high.
requested by anonymous: hi! would you be willing to write some hurt/comfort with a reader comforting helena? maybe after having issues with jame? thank you!
word count: 569
warnings: just a bit of angst & self deprecation + not super proofread
A/N: maybe not the best or most in character since it's my first time writing for helena, but I tried! probably could be read as gn!reader I'd say.
You reach across the table and put your hand on top of Helena's, the action seems to loosen her tight grip on her silverware. Her eyes had been intently fixated on her plate, despite barely even picking at the food on it. But your gentle touch prompts her to look up, meeting your worried gaze.
She looked so tense and her eyes seemed to hold a storm of emotion. “Is everything alright?” You ask.
“I'm fine,” says Helena, as if on instinct. A habit of keeping it all inside. Pushing down any feeling deemed immature or inconvenient by those around her. But you refused to let her feel that need to hide any longer. At least with you.
“I know you,” you say, and you did. Possibly better than anyone. “What's wrong?”
“I told you—I'm fine,” she insists. She pulls her hand away from yours, averting her gaze in favor of studying and picking at her otherwise untouched meal.
You look a bit hurt, but you try to put on a brave face regardless. “Don't do that.”
“Do what?” Helena looks back up, eyes intense. It's almost like a challenge.
“Push me away,” you say. “I'm not going to judge you. I love you.” You refuse to back down.
Helena practically bristles under the affection, still so unaccustomed to it. “I'm sorry, I'm just really not used to this,” she says.
“It's okay,” you assure her. “But I just want you to know that you don't have to hide your feelings from me. I want to be here.”
“I know—and I love you, I really do,” she says quietly. “But I just don't know how to talk about it.”
“Maybe it'd be easier if we weren't eating overpriced food, and far too dressed up.” You respond, a soft smile blooming.
She laughs at that a little, “I thought you liked this restaurant.”
“It has its charms, but I'd rather be on my couch with you, and eating takeout.”
“I think I'd prefer that too,” Helena replies.
And so you head back home, introducing Helena to your favorite chinese takeout, and watching bad reality TV together. She makes it a habit to nitpick and judge the stars of said reality TV shows just as much and as naturally as you'd expected.
But by the end of the night, the television shuts off and Helena's head is in your lap. It's quiet for a long while but then, “I wish I felt good enough.” Says Helena, voice so soft and small.
“You are,” you say, fingers gently carding through her hair.
“I don't feel like it,” she lets out a shaky breath. “My father likes to remind me I'll never be enough for him. There's a standard there with him and the company that I'll never reach.”
“You're enough for me,” you emphasize. “Your dad is a crazy old man. And also a dick.”
She lets out a teary laugh at that, “you're too sweet to me.”
“You deserve it,” you say. “You're everything, Helena. More than you know.”
It seems like those words open the floodgates, Helena breaking into tears. This kind of tenderness was just so foreign to her, but it means the world coming from you. “Thank you,” she says, voice breaking, barely above a whisper.
“Of course.” And then you just hold her, petting her hair, whispering your love and reassurances.
It's both almost too much for Helena to bear, but also exactly what she needs. You were exactly what she's always needed.
