scarsw1fe

[scarsw1fe]

No hands

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: Natasha takes control and uses her strap and a vibrator to ruin Y/N completely, pushing her to beg and cry.

Word count: 2.1k

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Natasha had barely spoken since dinner—just little glances, flickers of heat behind her eyes every time Y/N shifted in her seat or bent to pick something up. She hadn’t even touched her.

She was already in the bedroom when Y/N followed, standing in the doorway. Natasha was sitting at the edge of the bed, thighs spread casually, strap already on, her tank top clinging to her skin, black sweatpants pulled down just enough. She looked like she had all the time in the world.

Her gaze slid up lazily from Y/N’s legs to her mouth.

“Get on your knees.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She didn’t hesitate—not even for a second. She dropped to her knees, the plush rug soft against her skin, and looked up at Natasha with wide, waiting eyes.

Natasha didn’t lift the strap yet.

Her mouth twitched with something wicked.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Y/N obeyed, her fingers knotting together at the base of her spine, shoulders pulling back instinctively. Exactly how Natasha liked her.

Natasha leaned forward, one hand wrapping around the base of the strap. She brought it close and tapped the tip gently against Y/N’s lips.

“Open up.”

Y/N’s lips parted with a soft inhale, mouth wrapping around the tip of the strap. She started slow—tongue dragging along the underside, taking just a few inches at first. Her eyes stayed on Natasha’s, wide and focused, desperate to please.

Natasha didn’t move. She just leaned back slightly, one hand resting casually on her thigh, the other hand still loose around the base of the strap. Watching.

Letting her work.

And Y/N did—working deeper, hollowing her cheeks around it, pulling back with a soft pop before taking it again, messier this time. Her spit clung to the silicone, glinting in the light. She tried not to moan, but the pressure between her own legs was already unbearable.

Natasha tilted her head. Her expression didn’t change, but her voice dropped.

“You’re so eager for it tonight, huh?” She let the words sit there for a beat. “Look at you. Making a mess just from sucking my cock.”

Y/N whimpered around it, and Natasha finally moved—slow fingers threading through her hair, pushing it off her face.

“Good girl. Keep going.”

She tightened her grip, guiding her now. Not forcing, just enough to set the rhythm. Back. Down. Hold. Up. Again.

“That’s it, baby. Take a little more.”

Y/N choked lightly but didn’t stop. Her jaw ached, eyes watering already, but the sound of Natasha’s voice in her ear made her hips shift—grinding against nothing, desperate for any friction.

“You like having your mouth used like this?” Another soft tug on her hair. “Bet your little pussy’s soaked already.”

Y/N moaned, spit dripping from the corner of her mouth as she pulled off with a gasp, panting, only to press her lips right back to it again—taking it deeper.

Natasha’s eyes flicked to the nightstand, where the small vibe sat waiting. Without breaking eye contact, she reached and grabbed it, her fingers curling tightly around the sleek toy.

She slid forward and pressed the vibrator gently between Y/N’s thighs, right against the damp heat gathering there. Y/N gasped around the strap, a shaky, desperate sound that tangled with the wetness pooling in her belly. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling as the pleasure hit sharp and fast, like a jolt straight to her core.

Natasha smirked, sensing the fragile ache blooming through Y/N’s body. Without warning, her hand came up and landed in a sharp slap against Y/N’s cheek.

“Look at me.” Natasha commanded.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, swimming with heat and need. They locked onto Natasha’s dark, unblinking gaze.

“Messy already.” Natasha murmured, voice dripping with wicked satisfaction. She let the strap slip from Y/N’s mouth with a slow, deliberate tease, then pressed the vibe harder, grinding it lightly as she spoke.

“You’re dripping all over the floor for me, aren’t you? Can feel your pussy clenching just thinking about it.” Her fingers tightened, pressing Y/N’s thighs wider.

Y/N moaned, wet and ragged, hips shifting helplessly toward the buzzing heat, desperate for more control, more—everything Natasha was willing to give.

“You want me to make you so fucked out, huh?” Natasha’s voice dipped into a growl, words filthy. “Gonna ruin you right here, on your knees, begging for it.”

She dragged the vibe down, teasing the swollen bundle of nerves between Y/N’s legs. Y/N’s head fell back, lips parted in a silent moan, body trembling with every pulse and vibration.

Natasha leaned in, breath hot against Y/N’s ear, voice a venomous whisper. “You’re such a dirty girl. Taking my cock like a good little slut, soaking yourself with every suck.”

Her hand came back up to Y/N’s face, fingers tracing a line from the corner of her mouth down to her chin. “But I’m not done fucking you yet.”

Y/N whimpered, the mess of spit dripping from her parted lips, her cheeks flushed and glossy with tears. She was utterly undone, desperate, and completely Natasha’s.

Natasha pressed the strap back to Y/N’s lips, fingers tangling in the hair at her nape, steadying her while the vibe pulsed between her thighs.

“Show me how much you want it, baby. Show me how filthy you can be.”

She started moving Y/N’s head up and down on it, slowly—then rougher, sharper, pulling her down until her nose pressed flush to Natasha’s pelvis.

“Take it.” Natasha growled. “Fucking take all of it.”

Y/N choked, her throat tightening around the silicone, eyes glassy as Natasha held her there for a few seconds—just long enough to make her head spin. Her lashes fluttered. Her hands trembled behind her back. Spit dripped down her chin in thick strands.

Natasha finally let her up.

Y/N gasped, gagging slightly, strings of spit clinging to her lips as she sucked in air—but Natasha didn’t let her rest. She drove her right back down again.

Hard. Deep. Over and over.

“God, look at you.” Natasha hissed. “Drooling all over my strap like a perfect slut.”

Y/N whimpered, eyes rolling as the vibe between her legs kept humming. Her thighs were trembling, slick coating the insides. The pleasure was sharp, nearly unbearable, dizzying with every second. Her whole body was on fire.

She felt it building.

And Natasha felt it too.

Because every time Y/N’s hips started grinding harder, every time her breath stuttered or a moan slipped too loudly from her throat, Natasha would yank the vibe away.

Y/N sobbed, hips bucking toward empty air.

“Not yet.” Natasha said coldly, her voice pure control. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

Then the strap was back between her lips again. Natasha fucked her mouth hard, watching her face twist in pleasure and struggle, the tension in her shoulders, the spit now covering her chin, her chest.

It went on like that—minute after minute of torture. Sucking. Gagging. Vibrations pulsing. Orgasms ripped away just before they could break.

Until finally, Y/N cracked.

She pulled back, face flushed and soaked, mouth trembling. Her voice came out wrecked and desperate.

“Please.” She gasped. “Please, Natasha, please fuck me. I need it. I’ll do anything. Anything, just—please—”

Natasha tilted her head, smiling curling slow and cruel.

“Anything?” She repeated, voice like a blade dragging down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N nodded frantically, tears threatening to fall, her whole body shivering from the overstimulation, from the want.

“Then get on the bed.” Natasha said, standing smoothly. “Prove it to me.”

Y/N crawled up onto the bed like she could barely feel her own limbs—her legs trembling so badly they nearly gave out beneath her. She moved on instinct now, her body raw and overloaded, skin flushed, every nerve ending screaming. Her breath caught as her knees met the mattress, slick thighs parting, her body begging for something her mind was barely holding onto.

She collapsed on her back, legs falling open in surrender, arms limp beside her. Her chest rose and fell in erratic bursts, skin damp with sweat, nipples peaked from the cold air and everything Natasha had just done to her.

And then Natasha was there—climbing over her, a shadow of dominance moving like it belonged there. She didn’t speak at first, just stared down at her—Y/N’s flushed chest, her glistening cunt, the way her thighs trembled uncontrollably.

She straddled Y/N’s hips and ran her palms down her sides—firm, possessive, thumbs grazing the underside of her breasts as her strap slid between soaked folds teasingly.

“Such a mess.” She murmured, tone low and full of something dark. The strap was hot from Y/N’s mouth, slick with spit and anticipation as it dragged along her pussy. “Aren’t you, baby?”

Y/N nodded quickly, almost frantically, lips parted, her hand curling into the sheets above her head. She was vibrating with tension.

Then, without warning, Natasha thrust forward.

The sound was obscene. A wet, needy slap buried deep inside her in one brutal stroke. Y/N cried out, head jerking back against the pillows, fingers clawing at the bedding. Her walls clamped down around it instantly, fluttering with overwhelmed pleasure.

Her whole body tried to escape from it, from the stretch, the heat, the fullness—but Natasha didn’t allow it.

Y/N’s hands flew to Natasha’s hips, trying to push back—anything for a second to adjust—but Natasha caught her wrists with practiced ease and shoved them above her head, pinning them down with one hand.

Her other hand came down to Y/N’s throat, fingers wrapping tight.

“You begged for this.” Natasha growled, her mouth brushing against Y/N’s cheek. “So take every fucking inch.”

She shoved deeper as she said it, and the force of it slammed Y/N into the mattress. Her hips stuttered. Her eyes rolled. Her mouth opened in a silent cry as her body snapped taut.

She came instantly.

Her scream cracked in her throat, ripped from her lungs as her pussy clenched wildly around the strap, every muscle locking up as the orgasm exploded through her. Her back arched hard off the bed, thighs twitching, her entire body wracked with spasms.

But Natasha didn’t let up.

She didn’t pause. Didn’t give her a second to breathe.

She smiled—and reached for the vibe again.

“No—no, no, I can’t—” Y/N sobbed, body jerking under her now, hips twitching with overstimulation as Natasha turned the vibrator back on. Her voice was broken, hoarse, laced with a panic that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with need.

Natasha knew.

She pressed the toy to Y/N’s swollen clit anyway, holding it there, letting it buzz hard and constant against the bundle of nerves that was already far too sensitive to bear. Y/N’s thighs tried to clamp shut—but Natasha just moved between them, spreading her open wider with one knee, holding her there, open and helpless.

Y/N screamed again, thrashing, her hands clawing uselessly at the sheets above her.

“It’s too much.” She cried out. “Please, Nat—I can’t—can’t—”

But Natasha’s voice was unshaken.

“You don’t get to tap out now, baby.” She purred darkly, rolling her hips, strap pressing deep again. “You’re gonna take it. Gonna cum for me again.”

Y/N sobbed, her whole body convulsing under the stimulation, tears streaming freely now. Her clit throbbed beneath the vibe, her walls fluttering desperately around the strap still stretching her open. The sheets were damp, twisted beneath her, her skin sticky with sweat and slick and drool.

Then Natasha felt it.

The sudden tightness low in Y/N’s belly. The way her stomach tensed, legs trembling violently now. The pressure building too fast, her body spiraling right to the edge of something even bigger.

Natasha’s hand slid down, pressed flat to her abdomen.

Then she pulled the strap out all at once, quick and smooth.

And Y/N screamed as she gushed, her whole body convulsing, squirting hard across Natasha’s stomach, down her own thighs, soaking the bed in wave after wave of uncontrollable release. Her hips jerked off the mattress, one last sob choking her throat as her body gave in completely.

Natasha just sat back on her knees, hair damp at her temples, watching with hooded eyes as Y/N came undone beneath her.

Her stomach glistened with slick. The bed was soaked. Y/N was gasping for breath like she’d run a marathon, her chest heaving, arms slack above her.

And Natasha just grinned.

“Good fucking girl.”

[scarsw1fe]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

pairing: firefighter!billie x reader warnings: smut, dirty talk, strap usage, riding, fluff at the end a/n: this is the filthiest thing i have ever written, so buckle up. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

------------------------------

As promised, the paint job was finished on Sunday. 

Now, the faint chemical tang of fresh paint mingled with the lingering scent of Billie’s cologne–cedarwood, smoke, something deeper, primal and charged. It had soaked into the walls, clung to the air, and seeped into her skin. When Y/n opened the fridge, she could still see her: Billie towering over her, hands pressed against the counter, paint flecking her collarbone, laughter in her lips, mischief in her eyes.

Her hands shook as she reached for the butter and eggs.

She burned the muffins. She overmixed the batter. It was off–too sweet, too dense. Her mind kept skipping ahead to Billie’s voice in her ear, the strong, capable hands that had guided her hips like they were made for each other.

She stared at the corner of the countertop where she’d been bent over, where Billie had made her gasp, made her ache. Even now, Y/n could feel the raw print of Billie’s presence, branded deep in her memory. Y/n still felt Billie’s touches, her possessive grip on her hips, the dirty words she whispered into her ear. Her mind raced with every time she was reminded of Billie, her piercing blue eyes and luscious lips. Even the bits of dried paint she couldn't fully wash off–all of it kept her up at night.

-

The firehouse garage door groaned open with a hiss as Y/n stepped into the space, her heartbeat louder than her footsteps on the concrete.

Billie, crouched beside a bench with a hose coupling in hand, turned at the sound of Y/n’s arrival. Her dark gray shirt clung to her back, damp from sweat and effort, her arms flexing with quiet power as she stood to greet her. She looked like something sculpted, chiselled from smoke and storm. She wiped her hands on a towel and walked over, slow and unhurried, every booted step echoing across the bay floor.

“Hey,” Billie said, a lopsided grin tugging at her mouth. “You trying to make me fat?”

Y/n held up the box, her fingers slightly trembling. “Pumpkin spice muffins. And no, I’m just providing you with fuel and energy.”

Instead of taking it right away, Billie reached out and gently placed her hand on Y/n’s waist, grounding her with the warmth of her touch.

“You’re shaking,” she said, stepping closer. Her breath was heat and pine, and Y/n wanted to drown in it. “What’s got you so flustered, sweetheart?”

Y/n’s lips curled faintly. “You.”

Billie leaned in until her mouth hovered over Y/n’s cheek, her jaw, her lips. “Good,” she whispered. “Because you’ve been haunting every second of my day.”

Billie took the box, brushing her fingers over Y/n’s as she did. The contact sent a ripple of warmth up Y/n’s arm. Billie’s presence did that to her now. It was like gravity had shifted and realigned around this one woman.

“You smell like cinnamon,” Billie murmured.

Y/n tried to laugh, but Billie was too close, her body radiating heat, her voice lowered to that delicious growl that made Y/n’s thoughts go slow.

“I think you’re confusing me with the muffins.”

Billie’s mouth tilted higher. “I don’t care what I’m confusing you with. I just want to taste it.”

And then she kissed her; slow, deliberate, warm.

Y/n’s hands slid up the front of Billie’s thick work shirt, brushing her collarbone. Billie didn’t press; she just kissed her like she had all the time in the world, like this was a reward for patience neither of them had truly mastered.

When they parted, Billie whispered, “You gonna come back tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Y/n breathed.

-

Y/n didn’t even bring food the next day. She didn’t need an excuse anymore.

The minute Billie saw her walking across the engine bay, she didn’t wait. She pulled Y/n behind the ladder truck, out of view, and kissed her like she’d been holding her breath all morning. 

“Jesus,” Billie muttered against her mouth. “I’m trying to work, and all I can think about is your mouth.”

Y/n grinned into the kiss. Billie’s hands settled on Y/n’s hips, strong and steady. Y/n’s pulse kicked. There was something about being surrounded by all this fire gear–about Billie in uniform, so competent and sharp-edged, with that underlying wildness simmering just beneath the surface.

“You do this to me,” Billie whispered. “You walk in and I go insane.”

Y/n could barely speak. Billie’s scent filled her nose–smoke, cedar shampoo, faint coffee. She was intoxicating, and Y/n was unraveling from the inside out.

Billie kissed her again, deeper this time. Tongue, breath, need. And just as fast, she pulled away.

-

The station buzzed with energy when Y/n walked in.

She didn’t even have time to ask for her. A firefighter came out from the bay, smeared in black soot, helmet in hand. She tugged down her gear, and there she was.

Billie.

She looked like she’d walked out of a movie scene; charcoal smudged across her cheeks, heavy gear hanging off her hips, soot streaked along her neck and arms. Her hair stuck to her forehead, and she was sweating, flushed, and devastating.

Y/n’s throat went dry.

Billie saw her and smirked, like she knew exactly what she looked like.

“Just got back,” she said, voice rough. “Apartment fire. Nobody hurt.”

“You–” Y/n cleared her throat. “You look…”

“Dirty?” Billie stepped closer, heat rolling off her.

“Hot,” Y/n whispered.

That earned her a low chuckle. “You like me filthy, huh?”

Y/n’s eyes raked over her. “I like you in any condition, but yeah. This is doing things to me.”

Billie stepped close, gloved hand cupping Y/n’s waist, and dipped her mouth to Y/n’s ear.

“You should see what I look like out of this.”

Y/n shivered.

Their kiss, this time, was messy. Hungry. It tasted like smoke and danger and the kind of attraction that refused to behave. Billie held Y/n like she was the only thing tethering her to the ground. Her gloves scraped slightly against the fabric of Y/n’s shirt, and Y/n felt the heat between them flare to something electric.

When Billie pulled back, her voice was a growl.

“Friday. My place. Come hungry, I wanna cook for you.” 

She slid a folded piece of paper into the back pocket of Y/n’s jeans. Y/n couldn’t help it; she flushed scarlet.

“I’ll be there at 7.”

-

Y/n arrived at the address scribbled neatly on the slip of paper at exactly 7. The door opened slowly, the click of the lock like a heartbeat in Y/n’s chest. Billie stood there, bathed in the faint amber glow of her apartment’s hallway light, barefoot and dressed in low-slung jeans and a white button up long-sleeve shirt that clung to all the right places like it was molded for her. Her hair was slightly tousled, curls damp at the ends, and her skin glowed golden from the remnants of a long shower. Y/n could still smell the cedar in the air–Billie’s scent–lingering the same way it did in her own apartment.

“Right on time,” Billie said softly, her voice low and warm like honey slowly poured from the jar. Her eyes raked Y/n’s figure, slowly, unashamed, taking in her outfit. Y/n wore a short skirt and a white blouse, accessorized with a stack of gold bracelets and a single gold chain that dangled between her pushed up breasts. Her lips were slick with a tinted gloss, her eyes lined with a dark pencil that made the whites of her eyes pop. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” Y/n stepped inside. “I brought wine.” Billie smiled, and took the bottle gently from her hand, leading her into the kitchen. Y/n’s pulse skipped as their fingers brushed. Her breath caught in her throat when she took in the sight of Billie’s apartment. There were candles, two plates set, something bubbling on the stove, and Billie looking every kind of domestic and dangerous at the same time. The muscles in Billie’s arms shifted as she twisted the cork off, her forearms veined and powerful. The curve of her jaw was sharpened in the dim lighting, made only more tempting by the flicker of a candle behind her.

“Smells incredible in here,” Y/n said, half-distracted by the way Billie moved–like a wolf comfortable in her den. Confident. Unbothered. Wild but focused.

“Stir fry. I’ve perfected my recipe.” 

“Didn’t peg you as the type to cook,” Y/n remarked, as Billie loaded the plates with the sizzling food, steam rising from it.

“Well, you've got a lot to learn about me then,” Billie grinned, pulling out Y/n’s chair. Y/n sat down, Billie pushing her in slightly before going to sit down on the opposite side. 

They ate slowly, the kind of dinner that was heavy with unspoken desire, a bubbling anticipation of what was to come. They held a small conversation, light, words forgotten mid-sentence because of gazes held tight. Wine flowed easily, but not enough to drown the rising tension; only enough to sharpen it.

The last forkful of food disappeared, chased with a sip of wine and the kind of silence that buzzed louder than conversation. Billie’s eyes lingered on Y/n across the small kitchen table, flickering with something that made the air feel electric, slow-burning.

“I’ll get the dishes,” Billie said softly, standing with fluid ease.

She picked up her plate first, then stepped around the table–quiet, graceful, predatory.

Y/n sucked in a breath.

Billie came up behind her, heat radiating from her body like she was still wrapped in smoke. She didn’t ask before reaching for Y/n’s plate. Her chest brushed against Y/n’s back, and then her arm slipped around, fingers curling around the ceramic. Her other hand ghosted against Y/n’s wrist as she took the plate from her grip, but she didn’t move away.

Instead, Billie dipped her head low, her mouth grazing the curve of Y/n’s neck.

The kiss was slow. Lingering. Just lips at first. Then a soft, warm breath. Then the slightest scrape of teeth. Like she wanted to see if she could pull a sound from Y/n’s throat without a single word.

Y/n tensed, spine straightening, every muscle drawn taut like a bowstring. Her skin lit up beneath the touch–fire licking over nerves. She could smell Billie’s cologne again, softened now by something clean and intimate. She could feel her lips, her breath, the confidence in her silence.

And just as quickly, Billie withdrew.

She walked to the sink, unhurried, her long white blouse glowing in the kitchen’s soft light. The fabric clung slightly to her back in all the right places, sheer where it kissed her waist. Without a word, she rolled up the sleeves to her elbows–forearms strong, veins raised slightly beneath pale skin–and started rinsing the plates beneath the tap.

The water hissed softly, but the only thing Y/n could hear was the roar of her pulse.

When Billie turned around, she leaned casually back against the sink, her long body framed by clean tile and steam. She dried her hands on a towel slowly, deliberately, gaze locked on Y/n the whole time.

“Am I gonna have to bend you over the table again, or are you gonna let me fuck you properly this time?”

Y/n’s heart stuttered, the muscles in her thighs clenching in a way that would be missed by anyone observing her. 

But Billie noticed. Of course she did. 

Billie’s lips curled into something that hovered between invitation and mischief. 

“C’mere,” she said lowly, putting the towel down on the counter, elbows leaning against it. Y/n stood up, her legs trembling slightly. Her head buzzed, not from the wine, but the nerves that were quick to flutter in her stomach. The soft tapping of her feet against the cold, hardwood floors echoed in the silence. 

Billie met her halfway. 

Their bodies collided in a kiss that felt inevitable, no pretense this time, no soft teasing. Billie kissed like a storm finally breaking; hands sliding into Y/n’s hair, thumbs pressing into her hips to draw her close. 

Billie walked her backwards into the hallway, never pulling away from the kiss as if doing so would break a promise. Y/n's back hit the doorframe to the bedroom, and then Billie’s hands were on either side of her face, tilting her chin up as if worshipping something fragile and holy.

She guided Y/n to her bed, breaking the kiss only to lay her down on the soft mattress. Billie climbed over her, straddling her waist.

Then she kissed her again; harder now, deeper. Her hands roamed, confident and reverent, memorizing every inch like scripture. The buttons of Billie’s shirt came undone beneath impatient fingers. The blouse she wore slipped open, revealing her smooth chest, a deep red bra cradling her perfect breasts.

Billie was quick to slip Y/n’s shirt over her head. Y/n’s head tipped back as Billie’s lips found her collarbone, her chest, the places that made her tremble and gasp.

“Been thinking about this all week,” Billie whispered against her neck, before sucking on the skin gently.

Y/n’s fingers traced Billie’s arms, feeling the corded strength beneath the smooth fabric of her shirt. It crinkled beneath Y/n’s closing fist as she slid it off Billie’s shoulders, muscles flexing as the ravenette reached behind her to rid herself of the blouse. She sat up straight, and only then could Y/n see the perfection of her build. Billie’s body looked like it was sculpted with reference to a Greek statue. Muscular arms flexed as she unclasped her bra, giving sight to gorgeous, perfect tits–round, perky, and heavy as they fell into their natural state. Her nipples were rosy pink, already erect as the cool air hit them. 

Y/n swallowed hard as she reached up to fondle them, thumbs brushing over the peaks with an undertone of curiosity, as if they had a mind of their own. A small gasp left Billie’s mouth as Y/n pinched her nipples, before rolling them between her fingers. Her eyes darted down lower, her mouth nearly watering when she saw Billie’s abs. Tight ridges cut deep beneath porcelain skin, rising and falling like waves frozen in motion. Each line, each groove, looked carved with intention; a kind of beauty born from sweat and willpower. 

Y/n couldn’t help but watch them contract when Billie leaned back, revealing her V-line that disappeared below her waistband like a secret waiting to be uncovered. Y/n touched them, dragging trembling fingers across the hard, perfect lines, her heart thumping in her ears. 

“You like them?” Billie asked, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“You look like a god,” Y/n mumbled, hazed by the sight. “I fucking love them.”

“Good.” Billie got up, her knees on either side of Y/n’s thighs. “They're all yours.”

Y/n let out a flustered giggle.

Billie’s thumbs hooked inside the waistband of her skirt. Her eyebrows furrowed, as if she was contemplating a difficult decision. Her fingers abandoned the waistband before scrunching up the material around her hips, mumbling something about wanting to ‘fuck her with the skirt on.’

Y/n stayed quiet as Billie began to undo her belt, the sound of leather against metal rippling through the space. She got off Y/n’s lap, placing the belt on a mahogany dresser. Her jeans hung loose on her lips now that they weren't being held up, showcasing red lacy panties that peaked out from under the denim. 

She unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them before retreating to her closet. 

Y/n’s body was still, but her mind burned–a simmer beneath the surface, every nerve drawn tight with the anticipation of Billie’s hands, Billie’s mouth, everything that was to come. 

Billie emerged from the closet with a harness strapped to her waist like it was nothing. 

Y/n could feel the heat in her panties grow as her eyes traced Billie’s figure, down to the strap that hung between her legs. Her thighs squeezed together at the sight, her pussy already throbbing with need.

Y/n watched the scene play out in front of her like it was in slow motion; Billie’s movements delicate and precise. There was no rush now; Billie took her precious time adjusting the strap, making sure the harness was tight in place as she walked towards the bed. Her eyes gleamed wickedly, like a dare wrapped in desire. 

She kneeled against the foot of the bed, holding her hand out for Y/n to grab.

“C’mon, sit up for me, baby,” Billie said, her voice commanding but laced with sweetness, tenderness. Her palms cradled Y/n’s jaw with a certain delicacy, one that is shown after a heavy impact. In this case, before. “I'm not gonna go easy, so I need you to tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” 

Y/n nodded, but her silence wasn't a good enough response.

“I need to hear you say it, baby,” Billie pressed a chaste kiss to Y/n’s lips. “The second the word stop comes out of your mouth, we’ll stop. Understand?”

“Yes,” Y/n breathed out, her voice barely audible. 

“Good girl,” Billie purred. Y/n’s insides churned. “Hands and knees, angel.” 

Y/n obliged eagerly, settling with her back facing Billie, precisely in the position she had been commanded to get into. Billie let out a satisfied hum, her hands gripping Y/n’s waist tightly. She pressed her front against Y/n’s ass, leaning over her as she pressed a gentle kiss to her back, down her spine, the actions sending goosebumps along Y/n’s skin. She made her way down, leaving a playful bite to Y/n’s ass, eliciting a surprised yelp from the woman beneath her. She sank her teeth into the plump flesh, hard enough to leave a mark without breaking skin. 

Her hand groped her ass before placing a harsh smack against it, leaving a stinging red mark on the skin. It quickly took the shape of a hand, outlining Billie’s fingers intricately like a burning tattoo. Y/n whimpered at the pain.

“I know you fucking love this,” Billie muttered, her voice thick, cutting into Y/n’s skin like a freshly sharpened knife. Her teeth scraped against the smooth flesh, closing around the waistband of Y/n’s thong, pulling it before letting go, letting it smack against Y/n’s hip. The thin fabric stuck to Y/n’s pussy like second skin, drenched in her arousal. Billie’s thumb glided over the material absentmindedly, her lips curved into a smirk as she felt the dampness against her fingertip. “Look at you, already soaked, and I haven't even touched you properly yet.” 

Y/n let out a whine, throwing her hips back–a desperate attempt for friction. She was met with another stinging slap on her ass, making her eyes squeeze shut. Billie’s hands roamed her body, finally reaching Y/n’s underwear, sliding them down Y/n’s legs with a torturous slowness. When the article was finally off, thrown to a distant corner of the room, Billie urged Y/n’s thighs apart, just enough to see the glistening wetness that seeped from her exposed pussy, like a juicy fruit after being bitten into. A slick string of it threatened to drip onto the sheets, but Billie’s finger was quick to stop it, sliding through Y/n’s parted folds to collect the slick that had gathered there.

It dipped inside of Y/n swiftly, before being brought up to Billie’s mouth, which hungrily licked it clean.

“You taste like heaven,” she said, voice heavy with desire. Her fingers wrapped around the silicone toy hanging from her hips, lining it up with Y/n’s entrance. She slid it up and down her slit, before pushing the tip of the strap inside Y/n’s aching hole. 

A lewd moan ripped from Y/n’s throat at the stretch. Billie slid the toy in slowly, letting Y/n’s adjust to its size as it filled her.

“That’s it, baby,” Billie moaned, seeing the strap disappear inside of Y/n. Inch by inch, Y/n’s pussy welcomed it with a warmth that radiated from her core. “Take it, take all of it.”

Y/n’s walls burned at the stretch, already spasming around the toy as if they couldn't fit it all. 

When the strap bottomed out inside her, and Billie’s hips hit Y/n’s ass, did she stop, letting the woman accommodate. 

“So fucking good,” Billie breathed out, her thumbs caressing Y/n’s sides. “All filled up, like it was fucking made for you.”

She pulled out halfway, before thrusting back inside of her, the action catching Y/n off guard. She steadied herself as she jolted forward with every thrust, a high-pitched moan leaving her mouth every time she felt the tip of the strap kiss her cervix. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, hands gripping the sheets like her life depended on it.

“Feels good, baby?” Billie asked, her own voice betraying her confidence as it cracked slightly, her mind hazy from the sight in front of her. 

Y/n merely whined, her pussy clenching around the silicone. 

“F-Feels so–oh fuck.” Billie’s hips drove in at a measured pace, each thrust making Y/n’s thighs quiver. 

“Can’t even speak, huh?” Billie pulled back, then slammed inside again; taunting, punishing. “Got your little pussy all stuffed and now you go all dumb on me?” 

Again. 

Y/n felt her body convulse with every slam of Billie’s hips. Every thrust was precise, stretching her out with a delicious pain before leaving her empty. Y/n could barely breathe as she let out a sob, her face flushed. 

Billie’s hand traveled down to Y/n’s stomach, her palm pressing down against the bulge. 

A broken cry escaped Y/n’s mouth as she felt the pressure right where the strap was buried deep inside of her. 

“You feel that baby? Right here?” Billie’s voice was hot, her face contorted into an expression of amazement and absolute ruin. She pressed harder. “That’s me. I’m so deep inside, you can feel it.” 

Y/n mouth dropped open as she gasped, a short intake of air, but it felt like the first breath she's taken all night. Billie’s speed quickened, her grip on Y/n’s waist quickening.

“God,” Y/n cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “It’s s-so big. I c-can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby.” The sound of skin slapping bounced against the walls. Y/n’s walls clenched around the silicone, which was covered in a cloudy slick. Her back glistened with a thin layer of sweat as it arched into the toy, taking it completely. “You’re so fucking tight baby, I can barely move. Just stretching you out so good, huh?”

Y/ whimpered, Billie’s name dropping from her lips like a whispered prayer. Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the sheets tightened, desperate for stability as she struggled to stay up. Billie’s hips shifted, her position altering to hit a new spot inside of Y/n’s pussy, deeper, this time, making her eyes roll to the back of her head.

“You’re doing so fucking good Y/n,” Billie groaned, voice silky with something lustful. Y/n’s thighs trembled, signaling her release was close. Billie’s hand met the swell of Y/n’s ass harshly, leaving yet another stinging mark to the skin. Y/n thought she was gonna lose it. 

“Please Billie, I’m so c-close.”

Billie kept her rhythm steady. 

“Let go baby, cum all over my strap.” 

Y/n’s body seized as her orgasm tore through her like a paper being ripped to shreds. Hot tears left her eyes, burning her cheeks as they slid down, her eyesight blurry. She shattered, her knees completely giving out. Billie hands were strong, keeping her up as she fucked her through it. 

“There you go baby, let it all out.”

Y/n let out a choked sound, something between a gasp and a cry, her body shaking as it gave out. 

When she finally stilled, like the calm after the storm, Billie traced her fingers up her spine, before placing a kiss right between her shoulder blades; a warning, telling Y/n that she wasn't quite done with her yet. 

“You’re gonna give me one more, angel.” Her hands slid up and down Y/n’s sides reassuringly, grounding her. Slowly, she pulled the strap out of Y/n, watching as cum dripped out from her throbbing hole. Y/n whined as it rubbed against her insides, but more so at the emptiness. “Fuck, so pretty,” Billie whispered, mostly to herself, as she slid to fingers against her slit, immediately getting them covered in a creamy slick. 

She climbed up the bed, sitting back with her back leaning against the headboard. 

“C’mere.” Y/n obeyed, slowly lifting herself with great effort as if she was using the last of her energy to straddle Billie’s lap. 

“Ride me.” 

Body still shuddering, Y/n lifted her hips, wrapping her fingers around the base of the toy to steady it as she sank down onto it, slowly, like she had to get used to it all over again. A soft whine left her lips as she reached the base. 

“There you go, baby, you're doing so good,” Billie’s lips curved upwards slightly, her hand gripping Y/n’s waist. Y/n’s waist lifted, before dropping down again. Pleasure coursed through her veins like poison. Billie’s cum coated fingers tapped against Y/n’s lips. “Suck.” 

Y/n parted her lips, feeling Billie’s digits enter as the taste of her juices danced across her tongue. She closed her mouth around them, humming softly as she took them deeper.

“Look at you, baby,” Billie breathed out. “Drooling all over my fingers while you ride my cock. You look so pretty like this.” 

Billie’s free hand reached behind Y/n to undo the clasp of her bra, letting the straps slip down her shoulders as she took it off. She pulled her fingers out of Y/n’s mouth, still wet with spit, trailing them down her neck before toying with her nipples. She played with them as Y/n rode her, flicking her thumbs over the buds as the spit dried. Y/n moaned, loving the delirious way her body reacted to Billie’s measured touches. 

“Feels so good,” she let out, her voice high-pitched and whiny as it carried on the still air. The muscles of her thighs burned as she rose off the strap and slammed down on it, her tits bouncing every time the strap disappeared inside of her, hitting her so deep she thought she’d see stars. 

“I know, baby. Feels so good having my cock so deep inside you, doesn't it? Hitting all those spots?” 

Y/n nodded feverishly, drool coating her swollen lips, her eyes growing glossy.

“That’s my filthy girl, taking all of it so perfectly. Look at the way it fills you up, baby.” 

Y/n fell forward at the sound of Billie’s dirty words, gripping the headboard for support. Billie’s mouth was quick to meet with her nipple, sucking on it softly. Her teeth raked over the sensitive peak, nibbling softly before soothing the pain with her tongue, which swirled around Y/n’s nipple with methodical excellence. 

Every meticulous touch felt like fire, and Y/n couldn't help but feel the warmth that pooled low in her belly deepen, almost dangerously. She felt her stomach tense with every deep thrust of the toy, like a wet cord pulled tight, that could only be split with the use of a sharp blade. Billie’s fingers found her clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it. 

That sent Y/n over the edge. 

Her orgasm struck her with a strong violence; a whip that left a fiery ache in the shape of a thin line. 

Her body seized, back arching as a gush burst from her. It splashed against Billie’s thighs, her abs–obscene, wet–drenching the women as the squelching sound of Y/n’s pussy filled their ears. 

Billie hissed, hot rush scorching her body like boiling water. 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Fuck,” she sucked in a harsh gasp, her abdomen and thighs soaked. She watched as the toy slipped out of Y/n, not purposefully, but because of the slick that drenched it completely–slippery, beautiful. “You’re so fucking hot, Y/n. Oh my god.” 

Billie couldn't get her eyes off it–the heat radiating from between Y/n’s shuddering legs, her pussy nearly red from oversensitivity. Y/n sighed, shakingly, slightly embarrassed, half high from her orgasm. Her legs gave out completely, and she fell limp, her core falling right onto Billie’s abs.

The feeling of hard muscle against her swollen clit elicited a defeated whine from her mouth. The pressure was too good, almost overwhelming, and Y/n couldn’t help it as her hips stuttered, her clit dragging against the curve of Billie’s toned stomach. 

“Yeah, baby? You wanna ride my abs?” Billie cooed, her veiny hands cradling Y/n’s waist, guiding her up and down. Billie’s lips tugged into a smirk, and she scooted down, laying flat on her back as Y/n grinded against her abs.

Y/n could feel every groove, every dip of skin against her clit, which throbbed as she rolled her hips. She could feel the slick covering them, the way it smeared over Billie’s stomach as she moved. 

“That’s it angel, drench them baby. Be a messy girl.”

Y/n mewled, chasing the pleasure, rolling her hips against Billie’s abs with a feverish desperation. Oversensitive, mind cloudy, she continued, grinding against Billie’s muscles, mustering up the last of her strength and using absolutely every fiber to reach her high. Billie looked up at her, a dazed expression evident on her face, her lips parted, eyes hungry and lustful. 

Y/n’s lay her palms flat on Billie’s stomach, propping herself up as she rutted against Billie’s abs, wet, obscene sounds filling the air every time her clit glided against the smooth muscle. 

“Take what you need, baby,” Billie urged, which only spurred Y/n on. A fire ignited in the pit of her stomach, coursing over her and filling her with adrenaline. “Worship them.”

And Y/n did. 

Her fingertips grazed over Billie’s drenched stomach, tracing her abs like they were hills and valleys; strong and sturdy, unbreakable–just like Billie was. Billie arched her back into Y/n’s dripping cunt, making Y/n moan out, lost in a buffer zone between heaven and earth. Her clit rubbed against the woman under her in the best way possible, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. 

“Gonna cum baby, gonna c-cum,” Y/n gasped, her thighs closing around Billie’s torso. “Please Billie.”

“Go ahead angel, cum all over my abs.” Billie praised, her voice gentle and sweet, a stark contrast to her demeanor before. “Make a mess.”

Y/n third and final orgasm of the night crashed over her like a strong tide during a thunderstorm. Her body stilled, mouth falling open in a silent ‘O’ shape as she came, coating Billie with more of her stickiness. She continued to grind against Billie as she rode out her high, her movements broken as she spasmed slightly, before stilling. Her pussy throbbed with a delightful fulfillness, sensitive, yet not aching for more. 

“Billie,” she whispered, her voice small, quiet. She fell into Billie’s outstretched arms, which wrapped around her tightly.

“Shh, I know, baby, I know.” Billie’s embrace was warm and welcoming, holding her closely with a certain urgency that told her she wouldn't let go–not until it was time to. Y/n trembled in her arms, utterly wrecked and blissful. “You did so fucking good for me, baby. So good. You took everything I gave you so well.”

Y/n merely let out an exhausted whimper, her head resting against Billie’s chest. She could feel the deep hum of Billie’s heart beating sporadically; a steady thump which soon slowed once the women caught their breaths. 

“Let’s go take a bath, sounds good?”

“Mhm,” Y/n forced out, her eyelids heavy.

Billie got up first, taking off the strap and letting it rest on the bedside table. She then scooped Y/n up, carrying her bridal style to the bathroom, before running the faucet. The tub filled with hot water, the steam rising and wrapping around them. 

Billie helped Y/n in, before following her inside, sitting behind her, and wrapping her arms around her. The women dwelled in a comfortable silence, the only sound echoing the bathroom walls being shallow breathing and the occasional sloshing of water between their bodies. Y/n let her head fall back against Billie’s shoulder, her eyes closing as Billie washed her clean, using a soft rag and the cedar body wash to scrub gently at Y/n’s skin. The aroma of the soap was enough to relax Y/n’s body, and her mind as well, which was only focused on the feeling of Billie’s caring hands over her arms, her legs, her back. 

Billie’s lips connected with Y/n’s neck, leaving a soft, lingering kiss on the wet skin. Y/n smiled, a delicate tug of her lips, almost as if she was still trying to come back into her own body. 

She felt Billie’s hot breath tickle her ear.

“You're incredible, you know that?” Billie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Y/n giggled, the sound making butterflies erupt in Billie’s chest. 

“You are,” Y/n’s hand found Billie’s, intertwining their fingers. Billie's thumb brushed against the back of her hand soothingly. “Thank you for tonight.” Her head turned back. Billie’s piercing gaze fell into hers, nothing but adoration behind them. 

Their mouths met in a slow kiss–no tongue, no need, just affection, radiating off them like bright rays of sunlight. 

They got out of the tub, skin slick with water, wrapping themselves in soft towels that felt like a warm hug. Y/n sat on the sink, swinging her legs back and forth as she waited for Billie to change the sheets and return. Soft footsteps pattered against the floor as they made their way back into the bedroom.

Billie helped Y/n into one of her oversized shirts and a comfortable pair of cotton underwear, before slipping into a similar attire. They nestled under clean sheets that smelled like fresh linen and Billie’s shampoo, legs intertwined like vines in a jungle. Y/n nuzzled her face into Billie’s neck, while Billie traced imaginary shapes along Y/n’s back.

“You gonna come back to the station Monday?” She asked. The question lingered in the air with a certain stillness to it, but the women knew the answer to it. 

“You know I will,” Y/n smiled against Billie’s neck, and Billie felt her lips curve upwards. She kissed Y/n’s forehead tenderly before drifting off to sleep.

[scarsw1fe]

so sexy. i need. 🫠🫠

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

pairing: firefighter!billie x reader warnings: smut, dirty talk (a lot of it), fingering a/n: this one is filthy. part 2 coming soon ;)

---------------------------------------------

Y/n didn’t notice the smoke until the kitchen was half engulfed.

She’d been lying on the couch, a blanket tucked around her legs, the scent of lasagna wafting from the oven—until it turned sharp, bitter. Like burnt plastic and oil. Her brows furrowed, nose wrinkling as she sat up and glanced at the clock.

The plastic cover. She never took it off.

She ran to the kitchen, heart pounding. Black smoke curled along the ceiling, and when she opened the oven door, a flash of flame surged out. The plastic had melted and caught fire, flames spreading to the inside of the oven and licking up toward the cabinets.

“No, no, no–”

She reached for the fire extinguisher under the sink, but the heat drove her back. Smoke thickened, her eyes watering immediately. She coughed violently, waving her hand in front of her face, stumbling into the hallway. Her phone was on the coffee table, but she could barely see it.

She grabbed it, her fingers fumbling.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My kitchen’s on fire,” she coughed. “It’s spreading. Apartment 2b on 29th Street.”

“Get low, we’ve got a few trucks on the way.”

The phone slipped from her hands as another wave of smoke hit her, knocking her back into the wall. Her chest burned. Eyes stung. She turned and rushed down the hallway–her bathroom was at the end. The only place that wasn’t full of smoke.

She slammed the door behind her, dropped to the tile floor, and pressed a wet towel to her mouth. Her lungs screamed. The heat was everywhere now, pressing in through the walls like a furnace. She curled into herself, dizzy and terrified.

Minutes felt like hours, until she heard pounding footsteps.  A loud crash. The sound of something splintering.

“Fire department! Call out!”

Short on breath, Y/n banged her palm against the bathroom door. More stomps. A second later, it flew open.

A firefighter filled the doorway–helmet, facemask, heavy coat. Wide shoulders. One gloved hand grabbed the door frame as she crouched, a flashlight beam sweeping across the haze. When her eyes found Y/n, she immediately dropped to her knees.

“I’ve got you,” she said, voice calm and low despite the chaos.

Y/n coughed again, vision swimming. Without hesitation, the firefighter reached forward, scooping her up in strong, gloved arms like she weighed nothing. Y/n’s head dropped against the woman’s shoulder as the firefighter lifted her effortlessly, pivoted on heavy boots, and charged back through the smoke-filled hallway.

The world spun in a whirl of flashing lights, sirens, and smoke. Y/n’s cheek was pressed to a broad chest, her senses overloaded. She could barely think, her throat thick with smoke. 

Outside, cool air hit her face like salvation. The firefighter carried her across the lawn and knelt, laying her gently onto a waiting stretcher.

“She’s breathing–just took in a lot of smoke,” the woman said to the paramedic, pulling off her helmet.

Y/n blinked up at her, dazed.

Under the gear, the woman was gorgeous. Dark hair plastered to her forehead, cheek smudged with soot, jaw sharp and steady. Muscles rippled beneath her coat as she shrugged it off, and even through the haze of adrenaline, Y/n couldn’t look away.

“Hey,” the firefighter said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from Y/n’s face. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/n rasped. “Thank you for pulling me out.” Her eyes tore away from the ravenette, landing on the scene in front of her; blue and red lights flashed in her face, strong men in suits hosing down the apartment, washing away the flames. 

The woman offered a small smile, shrugging, as if it was nothing. “Just doing my job.”

-

Two days later, Y/n stood in front of Fire Station 11 holding a plastic container of homemade cookies and a healthy dose of nerves.

She’d heard the kitchen was mostly repairable. Her landlord’s cousin had patched up the scorched cabinets and installed a new oven. But nothing fixed the memory of drowning in smoke. The cookies in her hands were a thank you gift–and perhaps an excuse to see the woman who carried her out of the burning apartment again.

She spent too long picking out an outfit, finally deciding on a short sundress and sandals. She did her makeup with precision, achieving a striking look while still looking natural. Her lips were lined with a lip liner, glossed and pouty. 

The station bay doors were open. Sunlight filtered through, dancing off the firetruck’s chrome bumper. A few firefighters were inside, eating lunch and laughing.

Y/n stepped into the open, holding up the cookies. “Hi–um. These are for whoever saved me from my burning apartment.”

One guy turned, recognized her, and smirked. “Hey! The lasagna, right?”

She pressed her lips together, rocking on her feet. “Yup.”

Another firefighter–tall, ginger-bearded–called out over his shoulder. “Billie! Your girlfriend brought snacks!”

Y/n flushed just as Billie emerged from the back of the bay, wiping grease from her hands with a towel. Her fire-resistant pants were slung low over her hips, thick black suspenders hanging at her sides. The tank top she wore clung to her like a second skin, showing off sculpted shoulders and arms that could probably lift a truck. She was glistening slightly, hair pulled back into a bun, expression sharp and amused.

Y/n’s knees almost gave out.

“Hey,” Billie said, grinning. “Surprised you didn't burn your kitchen down again.”

“I can think of better ways to get you back in my apartment.” A soft chatter arose amongst the men who were within earshot of the conversation. 

“Oh, I bet,” Billie muttered, eyes raking over her quickly and thoroughly.

Y/n held out the cookies. “Chocolate chip. I wanted to thank you again.”

She offered Billie a cookie before handing the rest out to the other workers. “You just became the entire station’s favorite person,” she laughed, looking around at the other firemen who were enjoying the treats. “How are you, after everything?” Her tone switched, laced with genuine concern.

“I’m okay. A little shaken up, but I’m alive, so that's all that matters.” 

Billie smiled, her tongue darting out to lick a smudge of chocolate from her lips.

“These are really good,” she smacked her lips once. “You should come around more often, you know, to keep your status as a favorite around here.” She winked, a sly smirk tugging on her lips. 

“I guess I will.” 

-

Y/n stopped by every day.

Some days she brought lunch; mostly sandwiches and wraps, occasionally something warm. Other days, it was cupcakes or cookies or brownies, always delivered with a grin. Sometimes she just came to talk.

But always for Billie.

And Billie was always there, working out in the yard in a tight station t-shirt, glistening with sweat, thick arms coiled with strength. Or lounging in her bunker pants, suspenders hanging loose, boots heavy against the concrete floor.

She was smooth, a dangerous flirt. Y/n loved it. 

“You’re just here to stare at my muscles,” Billie said one day as she hauled a toolbox onto the truck bed.

“Caught me,” Y/n said sweetly, not even bothering to deny it. “What’s my punishment?”

Billie just smirked. “You’ll find out.”

-

Y/n lingered by the truck, a brownie in one hand, her hip hitched against the bumper.

“So,” she began, licking a crumb from her thumb, “I need a favor.”

Billie arched a brow. 

“My kitchen is technically restored. I just need help repainting the cabinets. Maybe the wall, too.”

“Right.”

“I’m particularly in need of a strong firefighter to help me carry the ladder and paint cans...” Y/n looked at Billie, her eyes taunting yet innocent at the same time

Billie turned toward her fully, arms folded, pressing against her full tits. “You asking me to come over?”

“Maybe,” Y/n said coyly.

Billie bit her lower lip. “Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

-

Saturday came fast.

She stood in front of the mirror that morning, hair put up in a claw clip, an oversized t-shirt sliding off one shoulder, and old denim shorts paint-stained from last summer. She looked cute, even with the shirt that exposed her collarbones and the shorts that rode up way too high. It was intentional, premeditated. 

The knock came at her door at 11:07.

She opened it to find Billie leaning against the frame, paint cans in one hand, a ladder held up by a single arm like it weighed nothing. She wore her heavy fire department pants and matching black boots. Her suspenders hung loose around her hips again, and her dark grey tank top clung to her frame like a second skin. Her arms were bare and glorious, her chest perky.

Y/n tried very hard not to melt as she ogled the woman

“I brought tools and muscles,” Billie said, flashing a grin.

Y/n stepped back to let her in. “I see that.”

Billie looked around, surveying the small but bright kitchen. “So what’s the plan?”

“Alright,” Y/n picked up a sample swatch. “We’re doing pale sage on the walls and then the beige on the cabinets. I think. Maybe the other way around?”

Billie set down the cans and dropped the ladder with a satisfying thud. “You’re the boss.”

As they moved around the kitchen, setting down drop cloths and taping the trim, Y/n snuck glances at her guest constantly. Her biceps tensed as she opened a stubborn paint lid. Her back flexed when she reached overhead. 

She was maddening. And she knew it.

Billie caught her looking and smirked. “You gonna help or just stare at me?”

“Hard choice,” Y/n said, dipping her brush in paint. “But I guess I’ll pretend to be useful.”

-

They painted for an hour, Billie doing most of the high areas and Y/n tackling the trim. The music played low from her speaker, and the afternoon light warmed the kitchen. It was peaceful. Easy. But the tension simmered just under the surface, electric.

When Billie rolled another stripe across the top cabinets, Y/n leaned back to admire her work, and then flicked a tiny dab of beige paint onto Billie’s bare bicep.

Billie turned slowly, mock-serious. “Did you just tag me?”

“Oops,” Y/n said innocently.

Billie dipped her brush, and before Y/n could react, swiped a stripe of sage across her thigh.

Y/n gasped.

A full-out paint war broke out in seconds.

Y/n squealed as Billie lunged, soaked paintbrushes leaving streaks along her arm and down her side. Y/n retaliated, splattering beige onto Billie’s stomach, which she realized was far too exposed for her sanity.

They both dissolved into laughter, tangled up in tarps and brushes and scattered paint trays. Y/n backed away, giggling, until she bumped into the edge of the counter.

Billie stalked toward her, slow and deliberate, paint smudged across her cheek, her chest rising and falling.

“You surrendering?” she asked.

“Never.”

Billie stepped into her space, one hand braced against the counter beside Y/n’s hip. She loomed tall and powerful, her body heat cutting through the chill of the drying paint, her scent a mix of fresh soap, sawdust, and something purely her. Muscles carved and tense, boots planted wide.

“You’ve got paint in your hair,” Billie murmured.

“Pretty sure you started it.”

Billie’s voice dropped lower. “You’ve been coming around the station in those cute little outfits, teasing me. Every day.”

Y/n’s breath caught. “Maybe I like the way you look in those pants.”

Billie’s lips curved. “Everyone likes the way I look in these pants.”

Then, Billie leaned in and smashed her lips against her. 

The kiss was heated, finally unleashed; hands gripping hips, mouths crashing together with a hunger neither of them had wanted to admit. Billie pressed Y/n into the counter, one arm sliding around her waist, the other hand tangled in her paint-streaked t-shirt.

Y/n moaned against her mouth, fisting the front of Billie’s tank top, fingers dragging along the sweat-slicked ridges of her stomach. Billie tasted like peppermint and adrenaline. She kissed like she’d been thinking about it for weeks. Which, to be fair, she had.

Y/n’s head spun. She didn’t know where her body ended and Billie’s began. Billie’s hands gripped her waist tightly, grounding her. Billie painted her lips with kisses like fire. One of Billie’s thick thighs slotted between her legs, and Y/n gasped at the pressure.

“You want this?” Billie uttered against her lips. 

“Please,” Y/n whined, her words swallowed down by Billie’s hungry mouth. 

“Fuckin’ knew you would.” Billie’s teeth sank into Y/n’s bottom lip before shoving her tongue into Y/n’s mouth. She explored Y/n’s mouth with desire, tongues fighting for dominance; Billie winning. “You thought you could wear those little shorts and get away with it?” She kissed down Y/n’s mouth, leaving wet, sloppy kisses down her jaw, then her neck. 

Her hands grabbed the hem of Y/n’s shirt, pulling it over her head, before resuming the trail of kisses she planted on Y/n’s skin. Her hands slid over Y/n’s burning flesh, every kiss leaving a tingling sensation. Billie’s touch was like fire, and heat ignited low in Y/n’s stomach, creeping between her thighs. She exhaled shakily as Billie groped her tits over her bra, giving them a firm squeeze before reaching to unclasp it. The bra fell to the floor, exposing Y/n’s already hardened nipples. Billie toyed with them eagerly, rolling the stiff peaks between her thumb and forefinger. Her mouth latched onto one of them, her tongue swirling around the rosy nub. 

“God, your tits are perfect,” she groaned, before switching to the other nipple. Small, whiny breaths left Y/n’s mouth as Billie flicked, sucked, and nibbled at her nipples, nearly making them sore. 

“Please, Billie,” Y/n whined, pushing down on Billie’s shoulder.

“Please what?” Billie cooed, her voice taunting, eyes laced with nothing but amusement. 

“I–jus’ need–fuck.”

“What happened to all that confidence you had back at the station, baby?” She laughed, her hands moving to unbutton Y/n’s shorts before sliding them down. Y/n’s arousal leaked through her panties, a wet patch visible on the fabric. Billie gasped when she noticed, not out of genuine surprise, but just to humiliate Y/n. “Dripping already, huh?” Y/n’s face flushed crimson as she nodded helplessly.  

Billie’s fingers ghosted over the soaked material, never quite touching where Y/n needed her the most. She leaned in close, her breath hot against Y/n’s ear. 

“You're so messy, baby,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “Barely touched you, and my fingers are already soaked.” Y/n merely let out an exasperated gasp, shuddering at Billie’s words. “You love being all wet and needy for me, don't you?” 

Y/n whimpered, her hips bucking up, aching for some sort of friction. Her hands gripped the edge of the countertop harshly as she fought to keep her composure. 

“Use your words, Y/n.” 

“Fuck–yes–yes, yes I love it. I love being all needy for you. M’so wet for you Billie. I just need you so bad,” She blabbered, her voice high-pitched. 

“There you go, baby,” Billie let out a satisfied sigh, her fingers finally adding pressure to Y/n’s clit. Her movements were slow at first, rubbing small, intricate circles around Y/n’s clit, the fabric enhancing and dulling the sensation at the same time. Y/n let out a broken moan, her hips grinding against Billie’s fingers, desperate for more. “Such a needy pussy,” Billie mumbled under her breath, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her underwear before sliding the pair down Y/n’s thighs.

The cool air hit Y/n’s glistening cunt as Billie’s slender fingers parted her folds with a gentle swipe, immediately gathering the cloudy slick that had already gathered there. She brought her hand up to her mouth, closing her lips around them as she sucked Y/n’s juices off, moaning at the taste. 

“You taste so good, angel,” she hummed contentedly, pressing one palm to Y/n’s stomach while the other lay flat against her back. She flipped Y/n over swiftly, pushing down on her back until there was a slight arch. “Gonna fuck you like this, bent over the counter like a dirty slut.” Y/n mewled, a new gush of wetness seeping out and coating her inner thighs. 

Billie urged Y/n’s legs apart, using her foot to spread them, before pressing two digits against Y/n’s entrance. They slipped inside easily, Y/n’s warm walls welcoming them immediately. Billie let out a low groan as Y/n’s wet pussy enveloped her fingers. 

“There we go,” she dragged out, her grip on Y/n’s waist strong. “Such a greedy pussy.”

Y/n moaned loudly, her voice echoing off the walls as she felt Billie’s fingers tear her open. 

“Oh–Billie,” she forced out. “You fill me up so good.”

“I do, don't I, baby? My fingers fit so perfectly; they stretch you out so good. Isn't that right?”

“God–yes, yes. They’re so perfect, fuck,” Y/n gasped out. Billie bit her lip, loving the way Y/n unravelled under her touch. She began to move her fingers, slowly at first, before accelerating to a quicker speed. Her fingers slammed into Y/n’s pussy, the soft squelching sounds filling the room, mixing with Y/n’s lewd noises and strings of curses. Wetness coated her fingers, dripping down her wrist as she fucked Y/n mercilessly. 

“You love this baby,” Billie began, her breath shaky. “You love getting fucked like this, don’t you?”

‘Fuck–I love it. I love it s-so much,” Y/n stuttered, her knees growing weak. Billie added a third finger, stretching Y/n out to the point it burned. Her movements were quick, and she watched as her fingers disappeared inside of Y/n’s throbbing cunt, before leaving slicked and drenched in her juices. 

Y/n’s pussy gushed with arousal, dripping onto her inner thighs. Billie leaned over Y/n, her stomach pressing against her back. Her free hand found Y/n’s clit, rubbing tight circles over the puffy bud, which ached with need, begging for attention. Y/n’s legs nearly gave out, a knot already forming in the bottom of her stomach. Her pussy clenched around Billie’s digits repeatedly, restricting Billie’s movements. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight, baby. Can barely move,” Billie groaned, her mind growing hazy at the way Y/n’s walls closed around her. “Next time I'm gonna strap you down. We’ll see just how much this tight pussy can take.”

A series of ‘please’s and ‘fuck’’s left Y/n’s mouth in a whiny tone. Billie buried her fingers deep inside Y/n, curling her fingers and stroking her g-spot. 

“Oh my god,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as they rolled to the back of her head. “Right there. Please don't stop.”

“Yeah, baby? Right there?” Billie taunted, her fingers hitting deep inside Y/n. “Feels good when I hit your spot?” 

“Feels so good, baby, I’m so close. Gonna cum–”

“Yeah? You're gonna cum on my fingers, baby?” Billie pressed a kiss to Y/n’s cheek, a sign that she was still with her, that she was ready. “Make a mess Y/n, let it all out.” 

Y/n’s mouth fell open in a silent ‘O’ as her orgasm came crashing over her. Her walls tightened around Billie’s fingers, making Billie hiss at the restriction. Her muscles tensed as she worked at Y/n’s pussy, fingers sliding over her swollen clit as she helped her ride out her high. Y/n trembled in arms, small whimpers and moans ripping through her throat as the last waves of her climax hit her, before washing away slowly, leaving her breathless. 

Billie’s fingers pumped inside her, slowing to a stop once she calmed down before pulling out with utmost care and gentleness. Her fingers abandoned her clit, to which Y/n let out a quiet whimper, the emptiness making her lips fall into a slight pout. 

Billie slowly flipped her around, holding her up with one arm wrapped loosely around her waist. 

“Open,” she commanded, her fingers tapping against Y/n’s red lips. Y/n obliged, taking all three fingers into her mouth and sucking them clean. The sweet taste of her cum coated her tongue, and she let out a small hum around Billie’s fingers as she licked it off. “Atta girl, you're so good.”

A shy smile pulled on the corner of Y/n’s lips, and she wrapped her arms around her body, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed being naked in front of the ravenette, who was still fully clothed. Billie wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, pulling her in for a hug. Her lips left a gentle kiss against her temple, hand threading through her hair as she combed through it softly with her fingers. 

“You did so well, angel,” Billie praised, her voice small, gentle now, making it seem as if it was just them two in the whole world. “I'm so proud of you. You took everything I gave you so well. You were perfect.”

“Thank you,” Y/ mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric of Billie’s tank top. 

“Why don't we finish the paint job tomorrow?” Billie caressed Y/n’s cheek with her knuckles. “I’ll go run you a bath, you've got paint on your face and a sticky mess between your thighs.” Y/n let out an embarrassed noise, her cheeks pink as she pressed her face further into Billie’s top. 

“So do you,” she mumbled, poking at Billie’s chest with her forefinger. 

“What, the paint on my face? Or the mess in my pants?” Billie chuckled, leaning down to leave a chaste kiss on Y/n’s lips. “I can’t help it, you just look so hot all fucked out by me.”

Y/n shivered, her eyes fluttering closed. She smiled, shaking her head as she dragged Billie into the bathroom, deciding it was Billie’s turn for a little bit of humiliation and ruining. 

[scarsw1fe]

Gala

Billie Eilish x reader

Summary: After teasing Billie all night at a high-profile gala, Y/N is punished with a slow, overwhelming edging that leaves her sobbing, shaking, and desperate.

Word count: 2.5k

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

The gala was all white roses and polished chrome, elegance that reeked of money. Chanel had outdone themselves. Sculptural lighting hung from the ceiling, casting sharp glints over suits and gowns. Photographers whispered between flashes. Celebrities pretended not to look at each other. The whole thing pulsed with glamour.

Billie stood near one of the marble columns flanking the open bar, perfectly still in a tailored black suit. Her shirt was undone just enough to hint at skin, a subtle chain catching the light beneath the collar. She looked composed—observant, every inch of her polished for the cameras. And she hadn’t looked at Y/N once.

It was driving her insane.

Y/N had been orbiting politely, smiling when people addressed her, sipping champagne she didn’t really want. The dress Billie chose for her—satin, black, slinky enough to shift like water with every step—barely stayed on her shoulders. It was meant to be noticed. Designed to catch eyes and pull Billie’s focus. But Billie had spent the last half hour listening calmly to brand executives and nodding along.

Every time Y/N brushed against her, nothing. No reaction. No flicker of attention. She was calm.

So she started touching.

First it was just her shoulder grazing Billie’s arm when she leaned a little too close to laugh at something. Then her fingers skimming along the edge of Billie’s jacket as she passed behind her. Each time, she pretended it was casual. But the pressure of her fingertips said otherwise.

Still, Billie didn’t so much as glance her way.

Y/N stepped in closer, resting her hand at the small of Billie’s back while pretending to admire the decor. Her thumb swept back and forth just once over the seam of Billie’s jacket. That got something, barely. A slight shift in Billie’s stance. The smallest twitch of her jaw.

She leaned in, close enough that her lips brushed the curve of Billie’s ear.

“You’re ignoring me.” She murmured, letting her breath kiss her skin.

“You’re pushing it.” Billie replied smoothly, eyes still forward, voice quiet.

Y/N let her hand trail down Billie’s side, nails grazing the fabric before pulling away. Her pulse was pounding now. The tension in Billie’s body was subtle, but it was there. Her fingers curled slightly tighter around the glass in her hand. Her mouth had settled into a line—one that Y/N knew well. It wasn’t disinterest. It was control.

She moved away again, giving Billie space, but not for long. She returned a few minutes later, drifting to her side like gravity pulled her there. She didn’t say a word. She just let her arm brush Billie’s again, their hips nearly touching, and reached down to lightly fix the edge of Billie’s jacket as if smoothing it for her. Her hand stayed there a second too long.

This time, Billie’s breath hitched.

Y/N said nothing.

The air between them was thick, dense with Billie’s effort to keep herself composed and Y/N’s efforts to unravel that calm one brush at a time.

She moved again, positioning herself in front of Billie when a photographer passed by. The flash caught the low sweep of her back, the gentle sway of fabric over her hips. She didn’t turn around, but she knew Billie was watching now. She could feel the heat of it crawling up her spine.

When she finally returned to Billie’s side, something shifted.

There was a new silence to Billie’s stillness, heavier. Y/N reached again for a glass, her fingers intentionally brushing against Billie’s hand as she did.

And then Billie leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“Bathroom. Now.”

The words were so soft they barely registered as sound—but they landed like a stone in Y/N’s chest.

Her breath stuttered.

She didn’t look at Billie. She just turned and followed, slipping through the crowd without speaking, heels clicking against the polished floor.

The hallway was dim, just far enough from the party to feel like a secret. Billie walked ahead without a word, hands in her pockets, body composed. Y/N’s skin crawled with anticipation.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind them, muffling the distant hum of laughter. White marble countertops glowed under the soft light. Everything smelled expensive.

Y/N stood by the mirror, nerves fluttering under her ribs, the fabric of her dress still warm from Billie’s last glance.

Billie turned slowly, eyes dragging over her body. The silence was heavier here. Her expression hadn’t shifted—still quiet.

“You’re probably dripping, aren’t you?” Billie’s voice broke the silence. “Teasing me all fucking night, desperate for attention.”

The words hit low. Y/N’s breath stuttered.

Billie took a step forward, close enough for her presence to wrap around her. She didn’t reach for her, didn’t touch, not yet. Just stood there, letting the tension breath between them.

“Why don’t we see?” She murmured, voice quieter. “Lift up your dress, baby. Let me see how wet you are.”

Y/N’s hands trembled as she gathered the hem of the satin, inching it up her thighs. Her stomach flipped. Her breath caught. She held the dress there, barely breathing, skin exposed.

Billie’s eyes dropped.

She didn’t ask for permission. Her hand slid up the inside of Y/N’s thigh, fingers smooth and confident, grazing her slick holds with no hesitation. She swiped once, gathering the wetness that had been building since the moment Billie whispered in her ear.

Y/N whimpered.

Billie’s fingers pulled away. And then, without blinking, she raised them to her mouth and licked them clean.

There was no exaggeration to it. Just that steady tongue and the faintest hum of approval as she tasted her.

Y/N’s knees almost buckled. Her hands tightened around the fabric of her dress. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

She looked at Billie, waiting.

But Billie was already stepping back.

Her fingers tugged her sleeves straight, one slow adjustment at a time. Her gaze dropped once more to Y/N’s thighs, then flicked away like she was bored.

Y/N didn’t move.

Billie turned to the door, hand already on the knob.

Then, without looking over her shoulder, she spoke.

“Fix that fucking attitude.” She said. “Or you’re not getting anything tonight.”

Y/N’s stomach sank. The heat that had built in her chest twisted hard, suddenly edged with something close to shame. Her hands dropped her dress without thinking, fabric falling in soft waves down her thighs.

She didn’t say anything.

Billie opened the door.

Y/N stayed standing there alone, heart pounding, body flushed, thighs damp and sticky. Her reflection in the mirror looked small now—red-cheeked, a mess of need without release.

She swallowed hard and followed, legs stiff, throat tight, silence sitting heavy in her lungs.

✮ ✮

Y/N stepped back into the gala with her dress smoothed down and her hands clenched into fists when no one was looking.

The room hadn’t changed. Waiters floated by with silver trays. A quiet laugh broke out across the room from some corner full of names she didn’t recognize.

But everything felt different.

Her body still buzzed—thighs damp, skin tight with the memory of Billie’s fingers sliding through her, the slow lick of her own arousal from Billie’s tongue. That image was burned behind her eyes, paired with the rasp of her voice:

“Fix that fucking attitude or you’re not getting anything tonight.”

Y/N didn’t speak. Didn’t look at Billie as she returned to her side. She just stood next to her again, as if nothing had happened. As if she wasn’t unraveling beneath a sheen of champagne and posture.

Billie, for her part, didn’t spare her a glance. Her eyes were back on the crowd, nodding slightly at someone she knew, hands tucked calmly into her pockets. Not a hint of tension on her face.

The calm hurt worse than anything.

Y/N held a glass with fingers that barely stopped shaking, pressing her lips to the rim just to give her face something to do. She tried to smile when someone from the brand passed by and said something complimentary.

But her chest felt tight. Her skin felt too hot. Her underwear clung uncomfortably between her legs, soaked and ignored. Her whole body was one long ache, like Billie had touched something inside her and then walked away before putting it back.

When the event finally started to fade out, Billie simply thanked a few people and led her toward the exit, one hand hovering behind her lower back without ever quite touching her.

They didn’t speak.

The car was waiting outside. Cameras flickered from across the street, but Billie didn’t even glance at them. She opened the door. Y/N climbed in and the door shut.

Billie walked around the front, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

The city blurred outside the window. The streetlights streaked across Y/N’s bare legs. She stared out the window, face neutral, blinking too often.

Her hands sat folded in her lap, fingers curled against the fabric of her dress. She didn’t move them. She didn’t dare shift in her seat—the pressure between her thighs would be too much.

Billie's hand rested on the wheel, her profile unreadable in the dark. Her jaw was set, lashes heavy, gaze fixed forward.

Y/N’s throat felt tight, her chest straining around breath that didn’t want to fill all the way. Her thighs pressed together again. Her body was pulsing with need, her heart crawling up the back of it.

But she didn’t speak. Didn’t reach for Billie’s hand.

Just sat quiet. And Billie drove like she hadn’t left her begging in a mirror, soaked and trembling.

✮ ✮

The lock clicked shut behind them.

Y/N waited for the cold silence to stretch again—for Billie to keep pretending nothing had happened. For her to walk ahead, peel off her jacket, and ignore her the same way she had since the bathroom.

But instead, Billie turned around.

Her face had softened. Her eyes were darker now, but warm—almost gentle. The tension in her shoulders was gone. She crossed the space between them slowly, reaching for Y/N’s hips with a touch that was featherlight.

“You look tired, baby.” She murmured. “Want me to help you out of that?”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She nodded.

“Turn around for me.”

She did.

Billie’s fingers found the zipper, slow, trailing the fabric down like she didn’t want to startle her. Her lips pressed to the back of Y/N’s neck as she worked, brushing along her spine with warmth, with patience. Her touch, for once, didn’t punish.

“Don’t act out like that.” She whispered softly, mouth brushing her shoulder. “You don’t need to.”

Y/N exhaled. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“All you have to do is ask, baby. You don’t ever need to try so hard.”

Billie eased the straps down Y/N’s arms. Kissed along her shoulder blades. Her fingers dragged over her ribs with the barest scrape of nail, her mouth tender where it kissed her skin.

“I always want you.” She said against her back. “Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when you look at me like that.”

Y/N let the dress fall. It slipped to the floor without a sound. Her whole body felt exposed—not because she was naked, but because Billie was being kind now, and that was somehow worse.

Billie’s hands slid to her hips. She pressed one more kiss to the center of her spine.

“Go get on the bed for me.”

Y/N moved slowly, heart hammering, slipping up onto the mattress with her knees tucked under her. She felt the warmth of Billie’s presence before she heard her crawl up behind her—one palm planting next to her thigh, the other guiding her down gently.

Billie hovered over her, close enough to feel her breath at her mouth. But she didn’t kiss her yet.

And just like that—the switch flipped.

“You’ve been quiet all night.” Billie murmured, thumb dragging down YN’s cheek. “Didn’t like being left in the bathroom like that?”

Y/N’s chest shivered. She didn’t answer.

“You think I forgot?” Billie’s mouth brushed hers, once. “You think I'm done with you?”

Then Billie kissed down her jaw, then to her throat—down between her breasts, over her stomach, tongue hot and slow. Her hands eased Y/N’s thighs apart.

The first kiss she placed between her legs was soft.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Then Billie licked—one slow drag, then nothing. Letting the pause burn.

Y/N whimpered.

“Oh.” Billie murmured, dragging her fingers up one thigh. “That’s what you needed, huh?”

Her tongue returned, barely dipping in, not enough to satisfy. Y/N’s legs twitched. Billie hummed low, like she was enjoying herself.

Each stroke of her mouth was maddening. Precise. Billie’s tongue circled and dipped but never stayed. Every time Y/N’s hips lifted or her moans got louder, Billie backed off—her mouth lifting, breath cooling her wet skin.

“I said don’t act out.” She whispered against her. “And here you are—shaking.”

Y/N’s fingers twisted in the sheets. Her body was buzzing, her chest rising in sharp, uneven waves.

Billie’s mouth returned with more pressure this time. She licked deeper, flattened her tongue and dragged it up and over again, just slow enough to make Y/N cry out.

But then she stopped again. Pressed a kiss just beside her clit, not on it. Her fingers dug into Y/N’s thighs when she tried to move.

“Billie—” She gasped. “I—Please—”

“Oh, now you wanna behave?” Billie murmured, voice cruel. “Now you remember how to use your words?”

Y/N’s thighs started shaking. Her hips twitched. Everything was hot—her chest, her neck, the backs of her knees, the blood rushing behind her eyes.

Then Billie went back down. This time with more intent. She sucked, licked, used her tongue with purpose. She fucked her with it.

Y/N’s hands flew to Billie’s hair, grabbing, clinging. Her legs tried to close. Her body writhed, unable to handle the heat that built and built until it broke her. Tears slipped from her eyes before she could stop them. Her voice hitched, fell into hiccuped sobs.

Billie didn’t stop.

Y/N was crying now—full-body sobs, thighs trembling so hard she could barely keep herself upright. Her mind had fogged completely. There was nothing in her head but Billie, Billie, Billie and the sharp, sick ache of being so close.

She didn’t even feel Billie pull away at first. Didn’t feel the loss of her mouth until the cold air hit her.

Y/N lifted her head, eyes glazed, just in time to see Billie wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Then—without breaking eye contact—she spit.

Right back onto Y/N’s dripping pussy.

Y/N gasped—half from shock, half from how obscenely good it felt.

Billie said nothing.

She just stood, turned away. Left her there.

Y/N was shaking, lips parted, body aching in the worst possible way—unfinished, overwhelmed.

The slick between her thighs made her squirm. Her hands gripped the sheets like they were the only thing keeping her grounded.

And Billie?

Didn’t say a word. Didn’t touch her again.

She just walked out of the room, and left Y/N sobbing, wrecked, and soaking in the bed.

[scarsw1fe]

Motorcycle

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Summary: A late night ride through the city turns into something far more heated when Y/N presses too close, touches too boldly, and forgets who’s really in control.

Word count: 1.3k

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

The city was a blur of shadow and light, cool night air whipping past as Natasha’s motorcycle cut through the quiet streets like a whispered threat. Y/N sat pressed tightly behind her, arms locked around Natasha’s waist, legs straddling the narrow leather seat, bare skin brushing the smooth metal of the bike's frame where her short skirt rode high. 

The skirt was thin, just enough fabric to leave her thighs exposed to the cold night and the warm hum of the engine. With every vibration that trembled up through the bike, the delicate fabric shifted against her skin, riding up slightly more, leaving her even more exposed. 

Every turn Natasha took sent a new wave of heat rippling through Y/N’s body. The deep, low growl of the engine thrummed against her pelvis, resonating in the hollow of her hips. When Natasha downshifted, the vibration intensified; a slow, hungry pulse that echoed between her legs, setting her nerves aflame. 

Y/N bit her lip hard, trying not to let her hips move too obviously, but the pressure was overwhelming. Her skirt fluttered with the wind, the hem brushing teasingly over the soft skin of her inner thighs. Her bare legs clung to the bike, muscles tight, but still she shifted, grinding subtly—a reflex she couldn’t control. 

Her breath caught when the fabric shifted again, the barest flash of sensitive skin exposed beneath the skirt’s edge, and she pressed closer to Natasha, body molding to hers like they were one. 

Fingertips slid lightly down Natasha’s waist to rest on the curve of her hip, thumbs sliding beneath the edge of the leather jacket. Just a slow brush against the fabric of her shirt, right above the waistband of her jeans. It was nothing at first. Casual. A soft graze. 

But she felt Natasha’s abs tighten beneath her palm. A subtle shift in her posture. Barely there, but enough to make Y/N do it again. Slower this time. More deliberate.  

Her palms flattened against Natasha’s stomach, feeling the defined muscle shift beneath her touch with every slight movement of the bike. The hum of the engine vibrated through them both. Y/N exhaled softly, her thighs tightening around the seat, warmth pooling low in her belly.  

Her hands inched higher. 

Over Natasha’s ribs. Under the hem of her shirt. 

Bare skin. Smooth and hot under her fingers. 

She pressed her chest closer to Natasha’s back, anchoring herself to her body. One hand still rested on her stomach—the other slipped higher, fingers trembling slightly as she traced the outline of Natasha’s bra. 

Natasha’s breath hitched. Just once. 

But she didn’t speak. 

Didn’t stop her. 

Didn’t even flinch when Y/N’s hand curled over her breast, cupping it gently through the thin fabric. 

The leather of Natasha’s jacket was already half-zipped—open enough that Y/N could slip her hand inside and press her palm fully against her chest. She squeezed softly. The weight of it in her hand made her pulse throb. 

Still no words. Just the steady roar of the engine and the wind rushing past. 

But she felt the change.  

Natasha’s back was tense now. Her grip on handlebars had tightened. Her jaw, visible in profile, had clenched. 

Y/N’s hips pressed forward again, grinding almost imperceptibly against the vibrations of the seat, her breath catching against Natasha’s neck. 

And then—

The bike veered sharply to the left. 

A sudden turn. No warning. 

They slid into a narrow alleyway, the buildings pressed in around them, lit only by the orange glow of a single flickering streetlight. 

The engine cut. 

Natasha swung off the bike without a word. She pulled off her helmet slowly, dropped it onto the seat, and turned. 

Her hair was slightly tousled, cheeks flushed from the ride. But her eyes—God, her eyes—were black with restraint, fixed on Y/N like a target already sighted. She didn’t speak right away. 

Y/N stayed frozen, chest heaving, still seated. 

Then Natasha held out a single hand. A silent command. 

Y/N slid off the bike, legs shaky. She didn’t get a second to breathe when Natasha stopped just a foot away. 

Her voice, when it came, was low. Quiet enough to sound dangerous. 

“You want my attention that badly?” 

Y/N couldn’t answer—not when Natasha’s gaze dropped slowly down her body, from flushed face to parted thighs, skirt still slightly rumpled from the ride. Her skin was buzzing. Her thighs were damp. And Natasha could see it. 

“Grinding on me like that.” She murmured. “Touching me like you forgot who’s in charge.”

Her hand moved with calm authority; not rushed, not forceful. She reached, took Y/N’s wrist, and guided her backward until her thighs hit the warm seat of the motorcycle. Then, without a word, Natasha turned her. 

Y/N gasped as her stomach was pressed down against the bike seat, her back arched slightly, hands bracing next to her. The leather was warm beneath her, still holding the ghost of their shared ride. 

“Skirt. Up.”

Y/N obeyed with shaking hands, gathering the fabric and hiking it around her waist. Cool air rushed between her legs, but the exposure was nothing compared to Natasha’s reaction. Silence. The kind that felt like thunder. 

A heartbeat passed. 

Then another. 

Then Natasha’s palm slid up the back of her thighs. 

Her hand was warm, firm, possessive as it traveled higher, fingertips grazing the crease where thigh met heat. 

She didn’t tease. Didn’t hesitate. 

Two fingers pressed between Y/N’s legs, slipping through slick folds with effortless ease. 

“Fuck…” Natasha muttered, voice thicker now, lower. “You’re soaked.”

Y/N whimpered, her breath stuttering against the bike. 

“You really got off on that ride, didn’t you?” She said. “Grinding on me like a little slut, right out in the open.”

The words shouldn’t have made her clench—but they did.  

Without warning, Natasha plunged two fingers into her; deep, rough, unforgiving. Y/N’s cry echoed off the brick walls, her hips jolting forward, legs nearly buckling. 

“You thought I wouldnt feel it?” Natasha growled behind her, breath hot against her ear as she leaned it. “The way you were touching me…groping my tits like they belonged to you.”

Her other hand slid up Y/N’s back, flat and firm, pressing her down. Holding her there. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” She whispered. 

Each thrust of her fingers was precise; curling up and dragging back, hitting that exact spot that made Y/N’s breath catch and thighs quake. Natasha’s palm angled upward to grind against her clit with every movement, slow and punishing. 

“So fucking needy.” Natasha said. “Didn’t even ask. Just took.”

Y/N’s moans turned breathless, high-pitched, her body rocking against Natasha’s hand. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop, the friction of leather against her stomach, the feel of her skirt bunched up around her waist, her inner thighs slick and trembling. 

“So pathetic.” Natasha whispered, fucking her harder now. “Coming apart just from a little ride. Should’ve left you squirming.”

Y/N cried out, her hands scrambling for purchase—gripping the handlebars, the edge of the tank—as her orgasm built fast and sharp beneath her skin. Natasha’s fingers worked deeper, faster, unrelenting now. 

“Take it.” She growled. “Cum on my fingers.”

Y/N shattered. 

Her body seized around Natasha’s hand, legs trembling, back arching as the orgasm tore through her. She gasped for air, every nerve alive, mouth open against the chill of the night. Natasha didn’t let her escape it. She kept going, slower now, drawing it out until Y/N was limp against the seat, every part of her buzzing. 

Only then did she pull her fingers out. 

Wet. Gleaming. 

She dragged them slowly up the inside of Y/N’s thigh—a claiming touch, not a cleansing one. She let the silence settle again before leaning down, her breath brushing the shell of Y/N’s ear. 

“You don’t get to touch me like that and walk away without consequences.”

[scarsw1fe]

SO GOOD I LOVE.

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝

pairing: soft dom!billie x reader warnings: soft smut, oral (r!recieving), fingering, scissoring a/n: first fic on tumblrrrrr!!

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The first time Billie paid for something, Y/n didn’t think much of it. It was a second date latte—a rather pricey one—the casual offer of “I got it” as she pulled out a sleek black card. 

The coffee tasted way better knowing that it didn’t make a dent in Y/n’s account.

But then it kept happening.

Dinner, Ubers, tickets to the art museum. Flowers delivered to Y/n’s apartment with little cards, like she’d stepped into a romance novel. 

Billie was a trust fund baby, with old money sophistication hidden behind sneakers and oversized hoodies, and when she spoiled Y/n, it wasn’t flashy. It was smooth; seamless. 

Y/n hadn’t realized Billie came from money at first. Billie didn’t flaunt it, although the signs were there; the custom leather wallet, the way she always knew what wine to order, the expensive watches she rotated like accessories. When Billie finally invited her over to “her little place downtown,” Y/n almost laughed at the irony. Her “little” place had twenty-foot windows and marble countertops, like something out of an interior design magazine. 

Still, Billie never made her feel less than. She looked at Y/n like she was art; like she was worth it.

And at first, Y/n let herself enjoy it.

-

It was Friday night, the kind of night that felt heavier than usual, but soft around the edges. 

The rain had started just as they got in—light at first, but steady enough to cancel their usual plans. Instead of dinner out, Billie ordered Thai from the place down the block. Y/n insisted on paying for it, joking that it was her turn, but Billie shot her a warning look from the kitchen island and tapped her phone twice like it was settled. 

“It’s already ordered,” she said, smug.

“You’re annoying,” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“You love it.” Billie leaned her elbows on the counter, watching her with that stupid little grin. 

Y/n couldn’t help but smile.

They ate cross-legged on the living room floor, sitting on the oversized rug in Billie’s apartment. The city stretched out behind her massive windows—misty and humming, streetlights illuminating the rainfall. Everything inside was dim, cozy, and warm. There was no TV, no music, just the soft clink of chopsticks and the occasional sound of Billie reaching for her wine glass. 

Y/n loved moments like this, nothing fancy, over the top. It was just them, sitting on the floor like chairs didn’t exist, and not minding at all. Food seemed to taste better when they ate it on the floor anyway. 

They were halfway through dinner when Billie reached across with her chopsticks and dropped a piece of tofu on Y/n’s rice. It was instinctive—almost absentminded—casual, affectionate. Billie did things like that all the time, as if feeding her was a love language. 

“Careful,” Y/n teased. “You keep doing things like that, and I’ll never leave.”

“Good,” Billie shrugged, licking sauce off her thumb. 

The word sat in the air for a moment, solid, real. Y/n looked down at her plate.

“You know none of my exes ever paid for dinner?” It came out quietly, almost like a confession. In a way, it was. 

Billie physically paused, her chopsticks frozen mid-air.

“Excuse me?”

Y/n didn’t meet her eyes. She shrugged sheepishly, prodding at a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks.

“Not like, ever. I always split. Or paid.”

“You’re kidding.” Billie put her food down slowly. 

“Nope.”

“Not even, like, the first date?”

Y/n shook her head. 

“That’s…” Billie leaned back, brows furrowed. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t mind at the time. But now…” Y/n laughed softly, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know, it’s hard getting used to getting treated to things.”

Billie tilted her head.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Y/n paused. “Maybe. Sometimes. It’s just weird. I feel bad when you do things for me. Even if it’s just paying for dinner.”

Billie stared at her for a second, then leaned across the table, taking Y/n’s hand gently, turning it over in her own. 

“Y/n. I want to do this stuff for you.” Her tone was low and serious, catching Y/n off guard as she looked up to meet Billie’s eyes. 

“But you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Her eyes held Y/n’s. 

And that was that.

-

Y/n wished she had never said anything. 

Billie took it as a personal mission to give Y/n everything she never had. She was spoiling her. Not with just necessities, but gifts. Things Y/n would never buy for herself. 

A high-end candle that smelled like citrus and fresh linen. A silky scarf that Billie said matched her eyes. A little black Prada purse that Billie claimed was on sale. 

Y/n’s stomach twisted when she googled the price later that night. 

She had tried to protest, grateful, but gently urging Billie to stop. Billie always brushed it off.

“I love spoiling my girl. Just let me.”

She wasn’t showy about it. There were no receipts waved in Y/n’s face, no guilt trips. Just the warm, steady presence of someone who liked seeing her smile.

Still, Y/n felt the weight of it grow heavier with each gift.

-

After a few months, Y/n stopped opening the boxes right away. Gifts Billie left her on her kitchen counter after sleepovers: jewelry, skincare, clothing from high-end brands. She started putting them in a drawer, not because she didn’t appreciate them, but because they made her feel like she owed Billie something. Even if she didn’t, it still gnawed at her, like an ache that never fully disappeared. 

Billie didn’t even notice the missing boxes.

-

They were curled up on Y/n’s couch, Billie’s head on her lap, her fingers combing through her black hair, Netflix playing in the background. Y/n was scrolling on her phone, looking for a new dish rack. The one she had was rusted and wobbly, the paint chipping, and it sometimes fell over if there were too many utensils in the cup. She found one that looked sturdy and compact—nothing fancy, just functional. Something she actually needed. 

Billie, half asleep, cracked one eye open. “What’re you looking at?”

Y/n nearly jumped at Billie’s sudden, yet inevitable, question.  It’s like she knew what Y/n was doing even without looking. Y/n hesitated for a moment before sighing and giving her an answer. 

“Dish racks.”

“Lemme see.”

Y/n tilted the phone. Billie squinted as the bright screen hit her sleepy eyes. She sat up and stretched with a yawn before adjusting her position on Y/n’s lap. 

“Go get my card, mama.”

Y/n smiled softly and shook her head. “It’s fine. I got it.”

Billie looked at her, her expression unreadable, but didn’t push it.

Y/n checked out using her own card. 

$28.99. 

A small, quiet rebellion.

-

Three months later, Billie surprised her with plane tickets and a hotel reservation.

“We’re going to Boston,” she’d said casually, sliding the envelope across the table at brunch.

“Wait—what?”

Billie smirked, sipping her mimosa. “You’ve been saying you wanted to get out of town. So. Surprise.”

It was a long weekend trip; a luxury hotel suite with a view of the harbor. She’d even booked a couple’s massage.

Y/n had tried to smile. She was so grateful, really. The room was perfect in every way she could ever imagine; floor-to-ceiling windows, crisp white sheets, a bathtub the size of a swimming pool. It was better than any room she’d ever stayed in.

And yet, the second her suitcase hit the polished wood floors, the guilt returned. Strong, shaking her in a way that it had never left. 

Billie was paying for all of it. Again.

-

Their first stop was the Museum of Fine Arts. Billie whipped her small digital camera out, taking pictures of the art, but mostly of Y/n. 

Next was Beacon Hill. Billie led them through cobblestone streets lined with old brick townhouses and gas lamps. She stopped to take photos every few minutes, of ivy-covered windows, of Y/n standing beneath a tree, laughing.

They grabbed lunch at a small café, all warm bread and lemon pasta, before wandering through an independent bookstore. They bought prints from a street artist, and new sunglasses from a corner boutique.

Y/n loved every moment spent with Billie. The way their hands stayed intertwined, the way Billie kissed her any chance she got. Her love was loud—sacred in their soft whispers, gentle touches, and frequent glances. 

She was swept up in Billie’s presence; the smoothness of her voice, the way her sunglasses kept slipping down the bridge of her nose, the way her rings glistened in the sunlight. 

She barely noticed the gelato shop, tucked between two brownstones, with Italian signage.

She giggled, tugging on Billie’s sleeve like a little kid.

“Can we get ice cream?”

“Absolutely.” 

The place was small and cute, with pale green tiles and gold-framed menu boards. Y/n got pistachio in a cone, Billie got espresso in a cup. 

When the girl behind the counter said, “That’ll be twenty-four even,” Y/n’s heart dropped to her stomach.

Billie swiped her card without blinking.

Y/n said nothing, too busy swallowing down her shame as they stepped outside. 

“Stingy as hell,” Billie muttered under her breath. 

Y/n didn’t laugh. Her stomach twisted. That guilt crept in again, filling her lungs like black smoke. It had been worse this time, especially since she had asked for it. She swallowed thickly, watching the ice cream melt under the heat. 

It was too much. 

The weight of the day—the museum, the meals, the little purchases, the photos—suddenly felt like too much. 

-

The hotel room smelled like fresh linen, the bed perfectly made, the sheets crisp from the coolness of the AC. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in the golden haze of the Boston sunset. Y/n was curled up under the covers, legs tucked to her chest, while Billie sat propped against the headboard scrolling through her camera, occasionally pausing to zoom in on a blurry candid of Y/n. 

“You look so cute in this one,” she said softly, her eyes gleaming with admiration as she angled the screen toward her. Y/n glanced at it, smiled faintly, then looked away. 

Billie set the camera on the nightstand and turned toward her, brows furrowed.

“You okay?” Billie whispered, brushing a hand down Y/n’s arm.

Y/n turned on her back, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” she said, but it came out thin.

Billie didn’t push at first. She shifted down under the covers, leaning closer, reaching to gently tug at Y/n’s arm.

“C’mere.”

Y/n resisted for a second, but then let Billie pull her up into her lap, legs draping over hers. Billie cradled her easily, arms wrapping around her waist. It felt safe—familiar—Billie always held her like she was something precious.

“I know that look,” Billie murmured, brushing her thumb along the curve of Y/n’s jaw. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”

Y/n hesitated, eyes fixed on the soft ripple of the comforter. 

“It’s just—this is all a lot,” her voice was quiet, broken almost. 

Billie frowned. 

“Too much?”

“No. I mean—yes. But not because I don’t like it. I do. I just—” She paused, struggling. “I feel so fucking bad. About how much money you spend on me, about everything. I love being with you—I do—but I’m constantly feeling like I’m not giving you anything back.”

Billie tilted her head, arms still around her, her brows still drawn in. She looked confused, like she couldn’t understand where Y/n was coming from. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty,” she exhaled through her nose, gently tugging Y/n a little closer in her lap.

“I know,” Y/n said. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I just don’t need all this, baby. I don’t need the expensive handbags and suites. I want you, Billie. Not your money.”

Billie’s expression softened, all that tension melting away. Y/n felt it too, physically, the weight being lifted off her shoulders, a year’s worth of guilt spilling off her shoulders like liquid. 

“You have me, angel,” she said simply, kissing Y/n’s temple, before pulling back to look her in the eyes. “I hear you. I'm sorry for overdoing it. I just wanna give you the whole world, baby, you know that.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear. “But I’ll ease it down, I promise. I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

Y/n smiled, small and relieved, like she was getting rid of a thought she hadn’t meant to keep. She leaned in, tucking her face into Billie’s neck, inhaling her sweet scent—always vanilla, always expensive. 

“You smell so good,” Y/n whispered against her skin. 

Billie let out a lighthearted laugh, her hand slipping under Y/n’s shirt.

“You gonna let me take care of you tonight?” Billie asked, fingernails scratching soothingly along her back. 

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” Y/n giggled, looking up to meet Billie’s eyes. Billie tilted her chin up and kissed her; soft and unhurried, featherlight at first, barely more than a brush of lips.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me?” Billie breathed out, hot breath fanning against Y/n’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Y/n whispered, quiet and barely there, almost like she forgot to speak. 

The kiss deepened, bodies pressing together, warm and completely wrapped up in each other. 

Her hands slid up the sides of Y/n’s thighs, slow and reverent, as her tongue prodded against Y/n’s lips. It slipped inside, the kiss messy and wet, warm tongues meeting and dancing alone in perfect harmony. Y/n’s fingers fisted Billie’s shirt, bringing her impossibly closer. 

“I need you,” Y/n let out, her voice strangled. 

“You have me. All of me.” Billie’s voice was thick with meaning.

Her hands gripped the hem of Y/n’s shirt, tugging at it softly.

“Can I take this off?”

Y/n nodded, arms already lifting as Billie peeled the fabric away with slow intent, dragging her fingers along every inch of revealed skin as if memorizing it. Her lips followed, leaving sloppy kisses down her neck, collarbone, the edge of her shoulder, soft nips, and open-mouthed kisses that left a warm sensation in their wake. Y/n’s breath hitched as Billie sucked on her pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark. She soothed the area with a swipe of her tongue, before continuing to leave marks on her chest like she needed a physical reminder of who Y/n belonged to. 

Billie’s hands were warm, deliberate in their touches, slipping down Y/n’s sides and back up her ribs. Every gentle brush of her fingertips against Y/n’s scorching skin sent electricity through her veins, her breath catching, her thighs tensing where they straddled Billie’s lap. 

“Can already feel you drippin’ on my leg, baby,” Billie murmured, smiling into the skin of Y/n’s chest. “Is that for me?”

“All for you,” Y/n managed, voice breathy, a little desperate. 

Billie peppered a few kisses to the area before leaning down and closing her lips around Y/n’s nipple, already hardened from the cold air that circled the room. Billie suckled on the bud softly, her teeth grazing the peak every now and then, making Y/n gasp. 

Her free hand massaged her other breast, grip firm, rolling Y/n’s nipples between her fingers before softly pinching them. She switched, giving each breast equal attention, loving the way Y/n’s back arched against her mouth. 

She released Y/n’s rosy nipple with a ‘pop,’ lips slick with spit, eyes hooded as she looked up at Y/n with hungry eyes, pupils blown. 

She flipped them over, guiding Y/n’s back gently onto the pillows. She swiftly discarded her shirt, slipping it off and throwing it somewhere across the room. 

Billie’s hands were on Y/n again, her lips connecting with Y/n’s in a passionate kiss, one that only stemmed from built-up trust and adoration. 

“You’re so soft,” Billie muttered. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Y/n whimpered, her thighs shifting under Billie’s weight. 

Billie kissed down her stomach, pressing a kiss right above her navel, then to her hip, the inside of her thigh. 

“Billie,” Y/n whined, her hips bucking up unapologetically. Her hands gripped the sheets, lips parted, a soft breath catching in her throat. “Please.”

Billie didn’t say anything. 

Instead, her fingers hooked into the waistband of Y/n’s cotton panties, the ones she was soaking profusely through, and slid them down her legs. She took her time, loving the way Y/n’s lips curved downwards into a pout as she waited.

Billie settled between her legs with a quiet confidence, getting comfortable before throwing both of Y/n’s legs over her shoulders. Her head dipped down, licking a single long, luxurious stripe through Y/n’s glistening folds. 

Her thumbs spread her open gently, mouth filling with drool as she looked down at the mess before her, watching as Y/n’s pussy throbbed with need, her walls clenching around nothing, secreting sweet arousal every time they clamped closed. 

“Fuck,” Billie mumbled. “So pretty.”

She flattened out her tongue, swiping through Y/n’s slit, collecting all the wetness that gathered there, instinctively swallowing before darting her tongue out to lick again.

 The wet muscle quickly found Y/n’s clit, swollen and poking out from its hood like it was personally asking for attention. Y/n loved the way it pulsed right when Billie’s tongue flicked against it once, twice, and then again, before she latched her lips onto it and sucked softly. 

“Look at me,” Billie said from between her thighs, her voice stern.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and glossy, a broken moan escaping her lips as Billie’s tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves. 

Billie hummed in approval, the action sending vibrations through Y/n’s core, her hips bucking yet restrained by Billie’s hands.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Her mouth was slow, meticulous, every stroke of her tongue calculated, making Y/n feel every single groove. The tip of her tongue explored Y/n’s pussy like it was the first time, swiping in between her folds, circling her clit, teasing Y/n’s pulsing entrance with a promise. 

Billie held her gaze, her mouth working Y/n’s pussy, savoring the taste as her juices dripped down her chin. 

“Oh my god,” Y/n moaned, Billie’s name falling from her lips over and over again. Each noise that left her mouth was a little more broken, a little more desperate than the previous one. 

Her fingers threaded into her hair, pressing her closer to her cunt, thighs struggling to stay open as Billie feasted on her. A low throaty sound fell from Billie’s lips as Y/n tugged on her roots, before her tongue worked harsher, faster, flicking against Y/n’s clit with practiced precision. 

“So close—fuck. Feels so good—so good.”

“I know, baby, I got you,” Billie whispered, pressing open-mouthed kisses across her slick heat, then back to her clit, tongue slow, intentional. “You’re doing so good. Just let go for me.”

Y/n cried out, her hips twitching as her orgasm tore through her. Her eyes squeezed shut, head falling back against the mattress as Billie continued, relentless, never stopping until Y/n was trembling under her tongue, fingers gripping the sheets, body singing with the euphoric high she had just given her.

Only when Y/n’s hand tugged at Billie’s roots did Billie pull away, a small string of saliva connecting her to Y/n’s spasming pussy. She kissed her way back up slowly, muttering small praises between each touch of her lips against Y/n’s skin.

“So perfect,” she said quietly, before pressing her lips to Y/n’s. She kissed her slowly and desperately, letting Y/n taste herself on her lips. 

Billie’s hand made its way back between Y/n’s thighs, slowly at first, just resting there, possessive and warm—like she wasn’t done. Like she was waiting. Y/n’s breathing quickened as Billie’s hand ghosted over her heat. She spread her legs instinctively, without thinking, like her body was taking what it needed on its own. Billie’s fingertips parted her gently, before her middle finger slid through her folds.

“Fuck, you’re still soaked,” she groaned, briefly looking down at her fingers, drenched in slick. “You want more, baby?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed as she nodded desperately, hips bucking up to meet Billie’s hand.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes—fuck, please. I need more. I need your fingers. P-please, B,” Y/n begged, voice raw and shaky, eyes glossy with tears. 

“That’s it, baby, good girl.”

One finger circled Y/n’s entrance, dipping inside briefly. Y/n’s hand went down to grip Billie’s wrist, her hold tight, eyes pleading, gently guiding her fingers to where she needed it the most. Billie’s fingers slid in with a satisfying ease, immediately welcomed by Y/n’s warm walls. Both of them gasped as her fingers bottomed out inside her cunt, surrounded by wetness and the tightness of Y/n’s pussy as it throbbed. 

“So fuckin’ tight, god,” Billie let out a throaty noise, gently withdrawing her fingers halfway before pushing them back inside. Y/n whined, overwhelmed by the sensation, the delicate yet intruding nature of Billie’s fingers, the way they stretched her out yet fit so perfectly inside. “Taking me so well.”

Her digits pumped in and out of Y/n at a slow pace, her fingers curling every time they disappeared inside her. Soft whines and whimpers left Y/n’s mouth with every thrust, her eyes squeezing shut. Billie watched her intently, loving the way her expression twisted into one of pleasure every time her fingers curled, the way she moaned every time the tip of her fingers kissed her cervix. 

“You look so pretty,” she praised, pressing a small kiss to her forehead, hand still working between her thighs. “And you sound so pretty, too. God, you’re perfect.”

That elicited a mewl from Y/n’s mouth, as pleasure coursed through her veins, settling low in her belly. She felt the familiar twist in her lower stomach, the way she clenched around Billie’s fingers, restricting their movements, all of which signaled her release. 

“C’mon baby, cum for me,” Billie said, her voice high, tender, like it was coated in honey. 

Y/n couldn’t speak. She merely nodded sporadically, eyes locked onto Billie's as she broke, thighs trapping Billie’s hand, back arching off the bed. Billie kept her movements the same, gentle thrusts, obscene squelching noises echoing off the walls like spilled secrets; Y/n’s cum gushing around her fingers like appreciation. 

Billie could feel it, the way Y/n’s body radiated adoration, love, need; she kissed her harder now, letting herself get lost against Y/n’s lips. Y/n breathed into her mouth, letting the woman above her swallow down her moans and whimpers, letting the noises die among their tongues instead of melting into the space between them. 

Billie’s hand stilled, Y/n’s body trembling underneath her, as she pulled her fingers out, slowly and carefully. Y/n let a small noise fall from her lips at the emptiness, her body relaxing into the mattress underneath her. She looked flushed and fucked out, lips swollen and baby hairs sticking to her damp forehead. Billie brushed them away softly, kissing her cheek. 

“Still with me?” She whispered, voice soft, almost like a lullaby. 

“Mhm,” Y/n mumbled sleepily, wrapping her arms around Billie’s neck, pulling her close. She slotted her thigh between Billie’s legs, the action sudden and unexpected, and pressed, letting the muscle of her thigh collide with Billie’s core perfectly. Billie shuddered, a low moan leaving her throat at the pressure against her clit. 

“I wanna feel you,” Y/n rasped, her voice low, full of heat. “Please.”

Billie sat up, quickly slipping out of her panties, before hovering over Y/n again. The woman rolled slightly onto her side, heart hammering with anticipation of what was to come. Y/n’s mind was still hazy, high in post orgamsic bliss, head spinning slightly, but it took her no effort to bring Billie close to her. Billie slid one thigh between Y/n’s legs and draped the other one over her hip. 

The heat of it hit them instantly—bare skin pressed flush to bare skin. Y/n gasped, intertwining her fingers with Billie’s, desperate to ground herself. 

Billie let out a loud, throaty moan at the contact, her clit already swollen and sensitive, a deep ache that she yearned to relieve settling deep inside of her. She rocked her hips forward just enough to make them both shudder. 

“Feel that?” Billie forced out, her voice cracking with need. “That’s mine.”

Y/n whimpered at the friction, sharp at first, then soft as they moved—slow, synchronized, hips rolling as they chased their own pleasure. It was too much and not enough all at once; the sensation overwhelming as the pressure built. 

“More,” she breathed.

Billie leaned down and kissed her, rough and hungry, like she’d been holding back this whole time. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as they moved together, hips locked in a rhythm that was maddening. She gripped Y/n’s hips, grinding their bodies together in slow, deliberate rolls, skin on skin, sweat-slicked and hot, everything sliding just right.

“God, Billie,” Y/n’s breath hitched. 

“I know, love,” Billie whispered against her neck. “I feel it too.”

Y/n whimpered, wrapping her arms tight around Billie’s waist, anchoring her. Their thighs flexed, their cores pressed together so perfectly that every little rock sent sparks through her body. 

“Fuck, baby,” Billie panted. “You feel so good grinding on me like that. Just like that—fuck, don’t stop.” Billie began to move faster, deeper, rolling her hips with purpose. She could feel the stickiness on her thighs, the way their arousal mixed together, coating their skin with a layer of slick, shining under the dim lights like a gloss. Billie’s hips stuttered every time her clit met with Y/n’s, the buds pulsing and swollen, the collision of wet heat pulling the string in her stomach tighter. 

Y/n felt everything—the desperate roll of Billie’s hips, the wetness pooled between them, their cores sliding against each other with slippery ease. Moans, praises, and the sounds of their gushing pussies echoed across the room, simmering into the air like smoke. 

“You’re mine,” Billie said, voice low in a growl. Her hands clamped tighter on Y/n’s hips as the thrust, grinding them together with such control and precision that Y/n thought she might cry. “You gonna cum with me?” 

Y/n nodded frantically, her body burning as her orgasm approached her.

“Say it.”

“I wanna cum with you, please—”

It hit them both at the same time, a sharp, deep climax that ripped through them as Billie rocked them both to the edge and over, her breath breaking apart in gasps and curses. 

“Oh fuck,” Billie moaned. “Give it all to me, baby, I need to feel all of you.”

They held each other though it; slick bodies clinging, thighs trembling, mouths desperate and open and whispering each other’s names like silent prayers, until they finally stilled, trembling in each other’s arms, 

“You okay?” Billie asked, her voice genuine, careful cradling Y/n’s limp body in her arms like a treasure. 

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded, looking up at Billie with glassy eyes, a few stray tears rolling down her cheek.

They fell against the sheets, hands roaming each other's bodies, touches careful, admiring, just feeling the proximity of their bodies, the way they fit so perfectly against each other. Their fingers wandered—worshiped— sweat-covered skin and overworked muscles, tangling in messy hair, pulling each other impossibly close. 

They kissed softly until their mouths were raw, lips red and puffy, breath slowly steadying back to normal. 

Silence fell, thick, golden, and warm. 

“I love you,” Y/n whispered, dazed, cupping Billie’s cheek gently. 

“And I love you,” Billie smiled, nuzzling her face into the crook of Y/n’s neck, arms wrapping around her waist. Her breath tickled the sensitive skin, her body now cooling down, the AC seemingly blasting a bit harsher now. She giggled, a loud, bubbly laugh escaping her throat, eyes lighting up like stars in the night sky. 

“There it is,” Billie chuckled against her neck.

“What?”

“That post-sex laugh. I love it so much.”

“Shut up,” laughter filled the room again, bodies shifting, getting comfortable under the covers. They lay there tangled, skin still humming, hearts still pounding in time.

“Next time we’re gonna use my strap,” Y/n slurred, the words barely coherent.

“You don’t even have one,” Billie pressed her cheek to Y/n’s collarbone, eyes fluttering closed with sleepiness. 

Y/n smirked, that small, devious curve of her lips that revealed her intentions. It’s like Billie saw it, with the way she perked up, immediately pulling herself out of Y/n’s hold, grogginess and exhaustion disappearing within seconds, reaching for her phone on the nightstand like it was second nature. 

“Get my card. Now.” 

[scarsw1fe]

Melting

Billie Eilish x reader

Billie’s hand was tucked loosely in Y/N’s as they walked down the sidewalk, the skin of her arm flushed pink from the heat, silver rings warm against her fingers. She looked calm, tucked into the comfort of the afternoon—her shirt sticking just slightly to her skin, loose jeans swishing around her ankles, hair pulled up messily and a little damp at the back of her neck.

Claudia and Finneas walked a few steps ahead, their laughter easy and familiar, but Billie stayed close to Y/N, almost unconsciously. Her thumb traced a slow rhythm against the back of Y/N’s hand, not for attention, just to feel her.

Y/N glanced at her and smiled.

“Craving something?” She asked quietly, watching Billie's eyes flick toward the faded blue awning up ahead.

Billie nodded, a little bashful. “It’s hot. I want ice cream.”

Y/N brought Billie’s hand to her lips and kissed it gently, letting the moment linger. “Then we’ll get you some ice cream.”

Inside the ice cream shop, the air smelled like waffle cones and sugar and cold air. The fan overhead barely worked, and the hum of the freezer made everything feel just a little hazy. Billie hovered near the glass case, eyes scanning flavor after flavor—mint chocolate chip, vanilla, pistachio, birthday cake.

Her teeth caught her lip. She was frowning in that way Y/N knew well: overwhelmed by too many choices and too many eyes. Even if no one was looking, she always felt seen.

“Too many options?” Y/N murmured, stepping behind her, close enough that her voice didn’t need to carry.

“I don’t know.” Billie muttered, rocking on her heels. “They all look good.”

“Then get two.” Y/N said simply, her voice warm and sure. “You don’t have to pick.”

Before Billie could even respond, Y/N stepped up to the counter.

“Hi.” She said with a gentle smile. “Can we get one scoop of vanilla and one birthday cake in a cup? And a chocolate cone for me, please?”

Billie blinked. Her eyes softened instantly, and she leaned into Y/N’s side like the words had steadied her.

“You know me too well.” She murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

“Of course I do.” Y/N replied, brushing a kiss against her cheek.

She paid quickly and handed Billie her cup, keeping her cone in the other hand as they stepped back into the sun. The pavement was hot, and the breeze was barely there, and within seconds the edge of Y/N’s chocolate scoop began to melt down the side of the cone.

They found a bench nearby, and the four of them sat—Finneas retelling some story about an airport delay, Claudia laughing into her spoon. Billie sat close to Y/N, knees touching, her ice cream untouched for the moment.

Y/N was distracted by her own treat, her thumb swiping under the dripping scoop, tongue catching the side before it could fall. She licked the edge again, catching every bit of the melting cream.

And Billie stared.

She hadn’t meant to—but suddenly it was all she could focus on. The shine of Y/N’s lips, the curve of her tongue as it traced the rim of the cone, the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

Billie shifted in her seat.

Her spoon hung in her fingers, forgotten. Her legs pressed together instinctively, her cheeks flushing deeper than the sun alone could explain.

Y/N didn’t even need to look at her. She felt it.

But when she did glance over—just a soft, sideways flick of her eyes—she saw everything. The parted, pouty lips. The tension in Billie’s posture. The need coiling low in her belly and pouring into her eyes.

Y/N lips curved into a small smile. And then she leaned in.

She tilted her mouth close to Billie’s ear, her voice just a breath.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Billie inhaled sharply, her lashes fluttering.

“Be good.” Y/N whispered, letting her fingers rest gently on Billie’s thigh. “Wait till we get home.”

A tiny, broken noise left Billie’s throat—half whimper, half sigh—and she gave the smallest nod, like her body wouldn’t let her do anything else. She dipped her spoon into the birthday cake scoop, obedient now, lips pink and parted.

Y/N took another bite of her cone and settled back against the bench, the picture of calm. But her free hand stayed on Billie’s leg, thumb tracing soft circles into her skin, reminding her with every motion: not yet.

—

By the time they got home, the sun had started to dip. Billie was quiet. Her body was talking louder than her mouth could keep up. She followed Y/N inside like muscle memory, dropped her keys on the table and peeled off her shoes one at a time, but her eyes were already on her.

Y/N closed the door softly behind them, then turned. She didn’t say anything. Just looked at her.

Billie stood there in the middle of the living room, fingers twisted into the hem of her shirt, waiting—like she didn’t know what she needed but knew exactly where to find it.

Y/N stepped forward slowly. “You were so good for me, baby.”

Billie’s breath hitched.

“You waited like I asked. Didn’t say a word.” Y/N’s hand came up, brushing a strand of hair back from Billie’s face. “Even when I could see how badly you wanted me.”

A soft sound came from Billie’s throat, helpless and aching.

Y/N leaned in and kissed her, slow and sweet and unhurried. Just lips, just a promise. Her hand cupped Billie’s cheek as her thumb stroked gently under her eye.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Billie nodded, already dizzy. She let Y/N take her hand and lead her down the hallway, her legs shaky beneath her.

The bed was soft when she hit it—sheets still cool from the air conditioning, a contrast against her flushed skin. Y/N was between her knees before she even knew she was lying back, hands pushing her thighs open with quiet confidence, like this was routine, like Billie belonged exactly like this.

“Been thinking about this all afternoon.” Y/N murmured as she kissed the inside of Billie’s knee. “The way you looked at me while I ate that cone…”

Billie whimpered, head tipping back, arms flopping uselessly beside her.

“I saw the way your thighs pressed together.” Y/N whispered against her skin. “So needy. So patient.”

Her mouth trailed higher, kisses lazy and warm, until her lips were above the waistband of Billie’s pants. She looked up once, checking, and Billie nodded—already trembling.

Y/N slid them down slowly, kissed her way up each thigh, then pressed her mouth against the thin cotton of Billie’s underwear, letting her breath warm the fabric.

Billie gasped.

“You’re soaked.” Y/N whispered, smiling. “You’re always so wet for me.”

Billie made a sound that wasn’t a word—just raw, overwhelmed need—and Y/N eased her out of her underwear, dragging them down her legs and tossing them aside.

Then she paused.

Billie was already glistening, thighs trembling, hips tilted just the tiniest bit up like she couldn’t help it. Her hands were curled into the sheets, knuckles white.

Y/N leaned in again. She kissed the inside of her thigh, just above the knee, then a little higher, then higher—so slow Billie thought she might cry. And when Y/N finally licked her, it was soft. A slow, wet drag of her tongue that made Billie jolt.

Y/N hummed against her. “Taste just as sweet as I imagined.”

Her tongue moved again, firmer now. Licking slow, wide strokes—just like she had with the ice cream, long and unhurried, savoring every bit of her.

Billie moaned, hand flying to her mouth.

“No, baby.” Y/N said softly, looking up from between her legs. “Let me hear you.”

Billie let out a shaky gasp, legs spreading wider, back arching.

Y/N went back in, licking her deeper now, tongue circling around her clit, teasing then pressing. She kept the rhythm slow—sensual, steady, intentional. Every movement was deliberate, every sound Billie made pulled from her with care.

“Feels so good.” Billie whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please, don’t stop—please.”

“I got you, angel.” Y/N whispered. She kissed the inside of Billie’s thigh again, then pressed her mouth right back to her clit. “Just relax your pretty little head, okay?”

Billie nodded frantically, her hands trembling where they clutched the sheets, hips twitching with every soft stroke of Y/N’s tongue.

Her tongue dipped lower, mouth open, lips slick. She sucked gently, just once, and Billie cried out—hands flying to Y/N’s hair.

But Y/N didn’t mind. She loved when Billie lost it, when the careful restraint cracked open and she was nothing but raw feeling.

“You’re doing so good for me.” She murmured. “So fuckin’ pretty. So perfect on my tongue.”

Billie was shaking now. Her stomach kept clenching, hips stuttering every time Y/N’s mouth found her clit again. Her voice was breathless, almost broken. “I—I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Y/N sucked again, tongue flicking at just the right angle.

Billie came in near silence, just a shuddering breath escaping her, thighs trembling, mouth falling open, eyes squeezed shut. Her hands fisted the sheets, whole body pulsing as the wave broke over her and kept crashing, while Y/N held her through it every second.

“There we go. That’s my good, perfect girl.” Y/N whispered, cheek now resting against Billie’s thigh.

She pressed a kiss to Billie’s trembling thigh, then another just above her navel, climbing up the bed until she was hovering over her.

Billie blinked up at her, dazed and red and completely wrecked.

Y/N smiled, brushing her knuckles against her cheek. “You waited so well, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Billie melted into the praise, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting just enough to breathe again.

“I love you.” She whispered, voice small.

“I love you, pretty.” Y/N whispered back, kissing her gently, letting Billie taste herself on her lips before settling into the crook of her neck. She let her hand rest gently over Billie’s heart, feeling the rapid thud beneath her palm.

“God, baby.” Y/N whispered, smiling against her skin. “You came so hard for me.”

Billie nodded, barely able to respond, face flushed and glowing. She looked utterly fucked out—eyes glassy, skin damp with sweat, chest rising and falling fast.

Y/N brushed a strand of hair from Billie's forehead, kissing her there. “Thought that would be enough for you.”

But then she felt it.

Her hand, resting low across Billie’s stomach, dipped between her legs without thinking—just lazy affection, a soft, trailing touch—and paused.

She was still soaked.

Y/N blinked, then pulled back slightly, propping herself up on one arm so she could look down at her.

She slid her fingers lower again. Billie whimpered the second she was touched—hips twitching, thighs shifting like her body was begging for more all on its own.

Y/N let out a soft, mocking laugh.

“Oh, baby. You’re still dripping?”

Billie bit her lip, her cheeks flushing deeper. She didn’t answer.

“You already came for me.” Y/N murmured, her voice darkening with something rich and teasing. “But you’re still this wet? Still squirming under my fingers like that?”

She slipped two fingers through the slickness, dragging them slowly up and down Billie’s folds, watching her reaction like it was her favorite movie.

Billie moaned, soft and high in her throat, her hips lifting to chase the touch.

Y/N clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You really are just such a needy girl, huh?”

Billie whimpered again, her hand twitching like she wanted to reach for her but didn’t know where to put it.

Y/N leaned down and kissed her slowly, letting her tongue slide over Billie’s bottom lip. When she pulled back, her voice dropped even lower—condescending.

“I thought I fucked the need out of you, angel?” She whispered. “But look at this. Still dripping. Still soaking my fingers like it’s the first time I’m touching you.”

Billie let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering shut as her thighs pressed together.

Y/N didn’t let her.

She nudged them apart again with her knee, spreading her open like she was reading a book she already knew by heart.

“I bet if I sucked on this sweet little pussy again, you’d cum even faster, wouldn’t you?” Y/N whispered, her fingers teasing just barely at Billie’s entrance now—slow circles that made her squirm. “Your body’s so fucking greedy for me. It doesn’t even care how many times you’ve already cum.”

Billie nodded helplessly, breath hitching. “Please… I want—”

Y/N cut her off with a finger over her lips.

“I know what you want, but I think you need to earn it.”

She dipped her fingers inside slowly—so slowly—and Billie’s entire body responded. A choked gasp, thighs quivering, hands clutching the sheets again like she hadn’t already fallen apart once.

Y/N leaned close, her mouth brushing Billie’s ear. “Be a good girl and take what I give you.”

And then she slid down the bed again, mouth poised between Billie’s legs, eyes locked on her flushed, trembling body.

“Let’s see how many times this pretty little pussy can fall apart for me.” She whispered.

She dipped her head, mouth open, tongue sliding warm over Billie’s soaked pussy while her fingers pushed in deep—just two, curling perfectly as they filled her.

Billie cried out, head tossing back against the pillow.

It wasn’t a moan—it was louder, broken. She was already so sensitive, her body jolting at every motion, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t.

Y/N’s tongue circled her clit with steady rhythm, perfectly in sync with the thrust of her fingers. She kept it up, not giving Billie a single second to breathe between the wet drag of her mouth and the deep, slick slide of her hand.

“F-Fuck—oh my god.” Billie gasped, her voice cracked and wrecked. “You—fuck, you feel so good—please don’t stop, don’t stop, baby…”

Y/N hummed in approval against her, the vibration making Billie twitch. Her lips sealed around her clit as her fingers pumped deeper, faster, the sound of it obscene.

“You’re taking me so well, princess.” She murmured when she finally pulled her mouth back, her breath hot against Billie’s swollen skin. “Such a good fucking girl, letting me play with your perfect pussy.

Billie whimpered, barely able to speak, her body arching into every stroke.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” Y/N added, grinning, watching Billie’s thighs shake. “Needed to be filled and licked and used until your pretty brain shuts off?”

“Y-Yes—yes, I needed it—I need you.” Billie choked out, hands gripping the sheets so tight her knuckles had gone white. “Fuck, Y/N, please—don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

“Oh, baby.” Y/N drawled out, her tone shifting into mock sympathy. “You’re so loud right now. Gonna let the whole neighborhood know how good I make you feel?”

Billie sobbed something that wasn’t quite a word—just a sound, pitched and broken.

“You wanna cum again, huh?” Y/N’s mouth was back on her, tongue flicking fast and filthy against her clit, fingers never stopping. “So greedy. I just gave you one and look at you.”

Billie nodded frantically, her hips starting to stutter, her thighs trying to close around Y/N’s head but Y/N didn’t let them. She spread her wider, held her still.

“Cum for me, baby.” She whispered. “Be a good girl and let go for me.”

Billie shattered again.

Her whole body jolted, mouth open in a scream, her pussy clenching tight around Y/N’s fingers as she came hard, dripping, soaking Y/N’s mouth and chin as her orgasm ripped through her.

But Y/N didn’t stop.

Her fingers kept pounding into her, harder—slick and fast, relentless. Her palm smacked against Billie’s clit with every thrust, and Billie’s body lurched in oversensitive shock.

“Y-Y/N—wait—” Billie cried out, voice breaking as her hips bucked.

“Nope.” Y/N said calmly, her tone maddeningly sweet. “You can take it. I know you can.”

Billie’s hands scrambled at Y/N’s wrist, trying to push her away, but Y/N just leaned in and kissed her hip—tender, almost affectionate—and kept going.

“Look at this messy little pussy.” Y/N murmured, her tone drenched in mock pity. “Still soaking my hand, even after two orgasms. You’re gonna make a mess all over me, aren’t you?”

Billie was sobbing now, hips twitching violently, tears drenching her face.

“I-I can’t—fuck, I’m gonna—oh my god, Y/N.”

Y/N curled her fingers just right, hard and fast and unforgiving, and Billie…

She squirted all over Y/N’s hand, her thighs trembling uncontrollably, juices gushing out with every thrust. The sound of it was filthy—wet and chaotic—as she screamed Y/N’s name, her body completely out of control, cumming again and again until she collapsed back into the bed, shaking and soaked.

Y/N didn’t pull away immediately. She slowed her thrusts, easing Billie through the aftershocks with a gentler rhythm, her mouth brushing over Billie’s inner thigh.

“There she is.” She whispered, smiling. “My perfect girl.”

Billie could barely breathe, tears shining at the corners of her eyes, lips parted, chest rising and falling like she’d just ran a marathon.

“You did so fucking good for me.” Y/N said, finally pulling her soaked fingers free, kissing Billie’s trembling knee as she moved back up her body.

Billie curled into her immediately, hiding her face in Y/N’s neck, still panting.

“I got you, lovey.” Y/N whispered, arms wrapping tight around her. “It’s okay. Just breathe. You’re safe.”

Billie didn’t say a word. Her body was still buzzing, her muscles limp, her eyes fluttering open only to close again almost immediately.

Y/N kissed her forehead, lips soft and lingering.

“C’mere, baby.”

She slid one arm under Billie’s back and the other under her knees, lifting her off the bed slowly. Billie let out a quiet sigh against her shoulder, her arms wrapping weakly around Y/N’s neck, nose nuzzling it.

Y/N carried her to the bathroom like she weighed nothing at all.

Y/N sat Billie down gently on the closed lid of the toilet and grabbed a washcloth, running it under the tap until it was just the right temperature.

She crouched down in front of her, pressing a kiss to Billie’s knee before beginning to clean her up—soft swipes over her thighs, careful and tender where the skin was sensitive and flushed.

“Still shaking.” Y/N murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. “You really gave me everything tonight, huh?”

Billie nodded, her hand resting lightly in Y/N’s hair.

Once she was clean, Y/N helped her to her feet, steadying her by the waist. “Shower, baby. I’ll get the bed ready.”

Billie shuffled in, still silent, closing the glass door behind her. The sound of water followed a second later.

Y/N walked back to the bedroom, peeled the soaked sheets off the mattress, and brought them over to the washing machine, making a mental note to wash them later. She found a fresh set in the closet and remade the bed, fluffing the pillows just the way Billie liked them.

From Billie’s dresser, she pulled out her softest cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt—something pale red and worn from washing. She laid them out gently at the foot of the bed.

When the shower cut off a few minutes later, Billie padded back in, damp and flushed and sleepy-eyed, towel wrapped around her body.

Y/N stepped forward and kissed her again.

“Get dressed, my love. Then come here.”

Billie obeyed with a soft “thank you,” pulling on the clothes with quiet, grateful movements. Then she climbed into bed and curled toward the middle, waiting.

Y/N slipped in behind her, arms wrapping tight around her waist, pulling her close. Billie let out a quiet breath, her body giving in instantly, like she’d been waiting for that hold all night.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. The sheets were cool and clean, the room dim, and Billie was still damp from the shower, her skin warm where it pressed into Y/N’s.

Y/N kissed the back of her shoulder gently and murmured, “You always surprise me, you know that.”

Billie’s lips parted, but no words came. Just the soft fall of her chest and the way she gripped Y/N’s hand a little tighter.

“Every time I think I’ve seen you completely…” Y/N went on, voice low and quiet against Billie’s skin. “You let me see more.”

Billie turned her head slightly, enough for Y/N to see her flushed cheeks, her damp lashes. “Is that a good thing?” She whispered, almost shy.

Y/N smiled and brushed a kiss to her temple. “It’s the best fucking thing.”

Billie tucked herself in tighter against her, hiding her face in Y/N’s chest now, a small smile playing at her lips.

After a moment, she murmured, “I don’t wanna hide from you, baby.”

Y/N closed her eyes at that, holding her even closer. “Then don’t, sweet girl.”

[scarsw1fe]

Safe

Natasha Romanoff x reader

The heavy metal doors to the bunker slammed shut with a final, echoing thud just before Y/N could stop them.

“Y/N, we’ve got a bogey.” Natasha said sharply, eyes fixed on her device as it beeped faster and faster.

“Short-range ballistic… thirty seconds tops.”

“Who fired it?” Y/N asked, scanning the dim room. Natasha’s eyes darkened.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.”

From across the bunker, the flickering screen lit up with Zola’s digital face. The static buzzed as his mechanical voice echoed off the concrete walls.

“I am afraid I have been stalling, Captain.”

Natasha yanked the flash drive from the console, her hand steady even as her breathing quickened. Y/N’s gaze darted frantically across the room, heart hammering. No windows. No doors. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Admit it.” Zola continued from the monitor.

“It’s better this way. We are, both of us, out of time.”

Y/N’s fingers found the edge of a floor grate. Without hesitation, she gritted her teeth and ripped it from the ground with a grunt, metal screeching as it tore free. She flung it aside, the sound drowned by the rising wails of incoming ordnance above.

The missile was closing in fast. There was no time to dive into the crawl space.

Y/N pulled Natasha close and raised her arm to shield them both just as the missile slammed into the base.

The explosion wasn’t sound; it was force.

Everything disintegrated. The bunker cracked open with a deafening roar as concrete and steel ripped apart around them. A wall of searing heat blasted through the room. The floor jumped beneath them. Debris rained down, in chunks, dust choking the air. Y/N gritted her teeth, using her body to cover Natasha completely.

The impact knocked them to the ground. Y/N’s arm took the brunt of the rubble. Her back screamed in protest as dust filled her lungs. Sparks from shattered circuitry rained like fireflies in the dark.

Natasha’s breath hitched beneath her. Every second dragged into forever. Y/N stayed locked around her, not letting go.

The air settled into a thick, suffocating silence, broken only by the hiss of settling dust and the soft crackle of dying wires.

Y/N coughed, eyes burning as she pushed herself up on trembling arms. Chunks of concrete pinned her legs. Her fingers were numb. The taste of ash and blood coated her tongue.

“Natasha…” She rasped.

There was a faint shift. Natasha lay half-buried beneath a collapsed support beam, slumped against a cracked slab of wall. Blood trickled from a cut along her ribs, her face streaked with dust.

Y/N forced herself up, crawling toward her. She shoved at the broken stone with every bit of strength she had left.

“Come on.” She grunted.

The concrete finally gave, tumbling aside with a dull crash. She dropped to her knees next to Natasha.

“You’re okay.” Y/N whispered, brushing blood-matted hair from her face “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Y/N wrapped her arms under Natasha’s legs and behind her back, lifting her gently into her arms. Natasha groaned but didn’t resist, her head falling to Y/N’s shoulder.

The bunker above creaked and groaned. Boots crunched in the wreckage; sharp, methodical.

Y/N’s blood ran cold.

Rumlow.

The shadows swallowed them as Y/N moved fast and low, ducking beneath collapsed beams, sidestepping live wires, shielding Natasha’s body with her own at every turn.

Above them, Rumlow’s voice echoed through the ruins: “Call in the asset.”

Y/N’s heart pounded.

They slipped behind a shattered wall as a flashlight beam swept past.

Too close.

She didn’t breathe until the light disappeared, until the voice faded behind crumbling steel. Y/N pushed forward, feet aching, arms tight around Natasha’s body.

—

It was just past dawn when Y/N pulled up to the house on the edge of the city. The quiet street glowed in the early morning haze; birds chirping faintly, the world just beginning to stir.

They stood side by side on the porch, bruised, dusty, and running on sheer adrenaline. Y/N knocked once, firm but not panicked.

Moments later, the door slid open. Sam stood there in a T-shirt and shorts, blinking in the pale light like he hadn’t expected to see anyone this early, let alone them. His eyes scanned the scene: Y/N standing tense but steady, eyes sharp. Natasha next to her, upright but clearly injured.

Sam frowned, confused.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Y/N gave him a look that was equal parts apology and urgency.

“I’m sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.”

Next to her, Natasha exhaled softly, voice strained.

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us.”

There was a brief pause; quiet and heavy.

Then Sam nodded, stepping back. His expression softened with concern.

“Not everyone.”

Y/N nodded once, and Natasha gave a tired, grateful glance as they stepped inside together.

—

The small bathroom light flickered off as Y/N stepped into the bedroom, towel in hand, drying the last drops of water from her fingers. Early sunlight pooled through the window blinds, painting the worn floorboards in long, soft streaks of gold.

Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, her back slightly hunched, a towel in her hands as she dried the ends of her damp red hair.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

“Yeah.” Natasha said, not quite looking at her. Her voice was quiet, distracted, fingers still working through her tangled ends.

Y/N crossed the room and sat in the old wooden chair across from the bed, elbows resting lightly on her knees.

She studied her.

“What’s going on?”

There was a long pause. Natasha’s hands slowed, then stilled.

“When I first joined S.H.I.E.L.D…” She said, voice low. “I thought I was going straight.” She looked down at the floor, almost ashamed. “But I guess I just traded in the KGB for HYDRA.”

Y/N stayed quiet. Let her speak. Natasha drew in a shaky breath.

“I thought I knew whose lies I was telling…” She looked up, eyes glassy “but I can’t tell the difference anymore.”

Y/N’s heart ached for her. She leaned forward slightly, voice soft.

“There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business.”

That pulled a faint smile from Natasha, her lips curving tiredly as she looked down again.

“I owe you.” She said, lifting her gaze. Her eyes met Y/N’s, this time deeper, less guarded. Y/N shook her head slowly.

“It’s okay.”

But Natasha didn’t let it go. Her voice was quieter now, like she was afraid of the answer.

“If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, now you be honest with me…” She hesitated, then locked eyes with her.“Would you trust me to do it?”

Y/N didn’t blink.

“I would.”

Natasha stared at her a moment, her walls trembling.

“You didn’t hesitate.” She whispered.

“I wouldn’t.” Y/N said softly. “Not with you.”

The silence hung there; fragile, thick with everything they hadn’t said.

Then, slowly, Natasha stood. She crossed the small space between them, bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor. She stood over Y/N for a beat, eyes searching hers like she was trying to memorize every detail of her face.

Then she leaned in.

Their lips met slowly, gently; no urgency, no fire. Just quiet warmth. The kind of kiss that felt like home. Like safety. Natasha’s hand cupped the back of Y/N’s neck, her fingers trembling just slightly.

Y/N stood without breaking the kiss, guiding them both backward until Natasha’s legs hit the edge of the bed. She let herself be pulled down, the mattress creaking softly beneath them. They laid together in the hush of early morning, the glow of dawn casting light across their skin.

Y/N’s touch was tender. Her hands slid beneath Natashas shirt, moving with aching slowness over the plane of her stomach, up the swell of her ribs. Her thumb circled over the spot just below Natasha’s breast, watching her shiver.

“You’re okay.” Y/N whispered, eyes locked to hers. “You’re safe.”

Natasha nodded faintly, throat tight.

“Just… don’t stop touching me.”

“I won’t.”

She helped Natasha sit just long enough to peel her shirt away; slowly, so she wouldn’t wince. Y/N kissed every inch she uncovered: the sharp curve of her shoulder, the soft underside of her jaw, the space above her heart.

Then she leaned down and kissed the bruise beneath Natasha’s ribs; slow, careful, like a vow.

Her hands wandered down next, fingertips brushing the waistband of Natasha’s pants.

“Can i?” She asked softly. Natasha nodded without hesitation.

“Please.”

Y/N leaned in and kissed her again, slow, full of promise, as her fingers slipped past the waistband of Natasha’s pants and eased them down over her hips. Natasha lifted slightly to help, her breath shaky, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s.

Y/N tossed the pants aside and settled beside her, one hand sliding back between her thighs. She trailed her fingertips over the inside of Natasha’s knee, up the soft skin of her thigh, until her hand finally cupped her; warm and slick and already trembling.

Natasha’s breath hitched. Her legs parted, instinctive and unashamed.

Y/N kissed the corner of her mouth, her voice like a hush against her lips.

“You’re so soft.”

Natasha hesitated for a heartbeat; not because she didn’t want this, but because letting herself need someone felt like standing on a cliff with no parachute.

“Touch me, please.”

Y/N exhaled as her fingers dipped between her folds, sliding through the wetness gathered there. She traced gentle circles around Natasha’s clit first, just enough pressure to make her hips twitch.

Then she slid lower, letting one finger press carefully inside.

Natasha gasped, her hand clutching at the sheets.

“Y/N…”

Y/N stilled for a moment, letting her adjust.

“Is that okay?”

“So okay.” Natasha whispered. “More.”

Y/N eased a second finger in, slow and steady, curling them just right.

Natasha’s mouth fell open with a soft sound; neither moan nor whimper, something too full to name. Her thighs trembled around Y/N’s hand, her hips beginning to move with each deep thrust of Y/N’s fingers.

Y/N leaned over her, kissing her jaw, her temple, her shoulder.

“You’re doing so good for me.” She murmured. “You feel incredible.”

Natasha let out a choked sound, overwhelmed but grounding herself in the rhythm. She clung to Y/N’s arm, to her shoulder, her body rising into every stroke.

Y/N's fingers moved slowly; no rush, no force. Just deep, smooth thrusts, her palm cradling Natasha as her thumb slipped up to circle her clit again. Her strokes matched Natasha’s breath; shaky, unsteady, growing faster the closer she got.

“God, don’t stop.” Natasha breathed.“Please don’t stop.”

“I’ve got you.” Y/N whispered, kissing her again. “I’m right here.”

Natasha’s eyes locked to hers; wide, shimmering, unguarded. She wasn’t just feeling this, she was seeing Y/N hold her through it, and that made her unravel even faster.

“I… fuck, I think I’m gonna—”

“Let go.” Y/N said, curling her fingers deep again. “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

And Natasha did.

Her body seized around Y/N’s fingers, a wave of heat and tension crashing through her as she cried out softly; her legs shaking, her hands fisting the sheets, her hips pressing hard against Y/N’s palm.

Natasha’s fingers dig into Y/N’s back, not from lust anymore, but from the fear that if she let go, it might all disappear. She held on like she was grounding herself, breath ragged, heart thudding like a drumbeat beneath fragile skin.

Her muscles clenched and trembled, slowly folding into a trembling heap, skin flushed and damp. Y/N’s hands never stopped moving, tracing slow, soothing lines along her ribs and down her sides, anchoring her back to the moment.

Soft whimpers escaped Natasha’s lips as the tension bled out of her body, replaced by a fragile calm. Y/N pressed a tender kiss to her temple.

“I’m right here. You’re safe.” She murmured.

Natasha’s breath hitched again, a soft sigh mixed with relief, as her eyes fluttered closed. The tremors beneath Y/N’s touch softened into quiet shudders, and the weight of everything, the fear, the fight, the desperate need, melted into stillness.

Y/N held her through every second of it; never pulling away, never rushing the moment. Just kissing her face, her chest, her throat as she came down.

When it was over, Natasha turned into her, heart pounding against Y/N’s chest.

Y/N slowly slipped her fingers free and wrapped her arms around her, drawing the blanket over both of them. Natasha’s breathing was still uneven, her skin flushed and glowing in the golden light.

She didn’t say anything right away.

She just buried her face into Y/N’s neck and whispered,

“I’ve never felt that safe before.”

Y/N closed her eyes, tightening her hold.

“You are. With me you always will be.”

[scarsw1fe]

Mirror

Natasha Romanoff x reader

The bedroom glowed with amber light, the kind that made the air feel thicker, like time had slowed down just for them. Outside, the sun dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the floorboards. The full-length mirror on the far wall caught the light, angling it softly across the bed, and across Natasha’s skin.

She stood in front of it, barefoot, lace barely covering her. She wore a sheer black bra and matching panties hugging her hips. Her arms hung loose at her sides, but her posture wasn’t relaxed, it was strung tight, like a bow. Waiting to snap.

Behind her, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, strap already in place; thick, slick, gleaming faintly in the fading light. Her voice was soft, but steady.

“On your knees.”

Natasha sank without a word.

There was something admirable in the way she moved. Quiet. Controlled. But Y/N could see it: the tension in her shoulders, the slight tremble in her thighs, the way her eyes avoided the mirror at first. She was trying not to fall apart already.

Y/N reached out and hooked two fingers under her chin.

“Look at me.”

Natasha obeyed. Her lips were already parted, pink and kiss-swollen. Her breath came shallow, pupils blown.

“You’re gonna suck mommy’s strap.” Y/N said softly. “You’re gonna make it messy, baby. I want it all wet.”

Natasha gave the smallest nod, then leaned in. Her mouth brushed the head of the strap like a kiss, then opened wide. She moaned as she took it in, slow, deep, inch by inch, her lips stretching tight around the thick silicone.

The first few strokes were careful, her tongue pressing flat against the underside, tracing it, savoring the taste of lube and the weight of it on her tongue like it was real.

Saliva began to build quickly, glossy and thick, slipping from the corners of her mouth and sliding down her chin. She didn’t care. If anything, the mess spurred her on.

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her fingers slid into Natasha’s hair and curled at the roots, not guiding her yet, just holding her there, grounding her.

“That’s it, baby. Take it.” She breathed, voice molten. “Get it nice and wet for mommy. You know how I like it.”

Natasha’s lashes fluttered. Her throat flexed as she took more, until her nose nearly brushed Y/N’s pelvis. She gagged softly, but didn’t pull back. Instead, she wrapped one hand around the base and began to stroke what she couldn’t fit, the other braced on Y/N’s thigh for leverage.

Then she set a rhythm; slow, obscene. Her mouth dragged up slick and slow, spit clinging to her lips in strings, then sank back down with a wet, audible suck. Her moans vibrated around the shaft, each one needier than the last.

“Messy, baby. Just like that.” Y/N breathed, voice shaking. “Worship it.”

Natasha moaned in response, low and hungry, before sloppily pulling back with a loud pop. Her tongue flicked out to swirl around the tip, then she spit on it deliberately, let it drip down, and took it back in with a desperate little groan like she couldn’t stand being apart from it.

She sucked harder now, jaw working, drool soaking her chin and her chest, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Y/N tightened her grip in Natasha’s hair, her hips rocking just slightly in time with Natasha’s motion.

“You want me to fuck you now, don’t you?” Y/N whispered. “Want me to ruin that tight little body in front of the mirror?”

“Please, mommy.” Natasha gasped, pulling back, her lips wet and swollen. “Please fuck me. I need it.”

Y/N stood, guiding her up by the arm, then spun her gently to face the mirror. Natasha bent over the edge of the bed, lace pulled to the side, legs spread just enough.

“Keep your eyes open.” Y/N said, sliding the strap between her folds. “Watch yourself take every inch.”

The first thrust made Natasha cry out, low and broken. Y/N filled her slowly, pressing all the way in until Natasha’s breath hitched and her thighs trembled.

“Fuck.” Natasha whispered, hands curling around the blanket edge.

“You like that?” Y/N said, voice thick with heat. “That’s mine. This body. That soaked pussy. Every moan that leaves your mouth.”

She pulled back, then drove in again, slow, punishing. Natasha sobbed out a curse, face flushed, jaw slack.

Y/N reached around and slid her hand down Natasha’s stomach, palm flat and steady. Then she pressed.

Natasha gasped, a high, broken sound, her thighs jolting as the pressure landed right where the strap was buried deep inside her.

“You feel that?” Y/N whispered, pushing just a little firmer. “That’s me. Right there.”

Natasha whimpered. Her eyes fluttered open, locking on the mirror.

“You can see it.” Y/N murmured. “You can feel it. I’m so deep you can see the bulge, baby. Look at what I do to you.”

Natasha’s mouth dropped open, breath shaky, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“God.” She cried. “That’s… fuck. It’s too much, mommy-“

“No it’s not, angel.” Y/N whispered, pressing down a little harder, matching the next slow thrust. “You take it so well for mommy. So deep. So full. Like you were made for this.”

“Good girl.” Y/N breathed. “So fucking good for me.”

The room filled with the sound of skin and slickness and ragged breath. Natasha’s reflection was flushed, trembling, fucked-out already, but Y/N wasn’t even close to done.

“You’re not stopping at one tonight.” She whispered into Natasha’s ear “You’re going to cum for me again. And again. Until you’re crying.”

“Fuck.” Natasha moaned. “Please mommy…”

Y/N’s hand slid around her hip, found her clit, and rubbed slow circles as she thrust deeper.

“Gonna cum again, baby? Already so close?”

“Yes, god, yes.” Natasha gasped, back arching.

Y/N kept the rhythm steady.

“Cum for me. Let me see you fall apart.”

Natasha sobbed as it hit her, thighs shaking as her orgasm wracked through her. Her vision blurred. Her knees nearly gave out.

But Y/N didn’t stop.

She pulled her up against her chest, strap still buried deep, and whispered:“One more.”

“No, fuck, too much, mommy.”

“Yes. Just one more. You can do it, baby.”

She rocked her hips again. Again. Natasha whimpered with every thrust, her whole body twitching from oversensitivity, tears brimming.

“I’ve got you.” Y/N whispered. “Let go again for me.”

And Natasha did; her body seized, jaw open in a silent cry, then shaking as her orgasm tore through her again. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. She collapsed forward, barely able to keep upright.

Y/N slowed, then stopped. She held her for a long moment, one hand at her waist, the other smoothing over her ribs, grounding her.

“You okay, baby?” She asked gently.

Natasha nodded slowly, still shaking.

“That was…fuck.”

“Shh. You were perfect.” Y/N helped her up, steadying her trembling legs.“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She guided her to the bathroom, turning on the warm tap in the tub. While it filled, she undressed Nat slowly, whispering quiet praise against her skin.

Once they were both in the water, Y/N pulled her close, Natasha curled into her chest.

“I love seeing you like that.” Y/N murmured, fingers stroking down her back. “All soft and undone. Letting go.”

Natasha blinked slowly, head heavy on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I’ve never let anyone see me like that. Not really.”

Y/N kissed her damp hair.

“You’re safe. Always. You’re mine, and I’ve got you.”

They stayed like that until the water cooled, and even then, they didn’t move. Just quiet breathing, steady heartbeats, and fingers tracing lazy shapes against bare skin.

[scarsw1fe]

Obsessed

Billie Eilish x reader

The front door clicked shut behind her, muffled by the dim hush of the apartment. Billie dropped her keys in the bowl near the entryway and just stood there for a second—back to the door, head tipped back, eyes closed like the weight of the day was still pressing down on her shoulders.

She looked wrecked. Not in the messy, chaotic way—but in the too-still, emotionally worn way. Like she’d held herself together in front of cameras and questions and people who wanted things from her, and now the seams were softening.

Y/N peeked around the corner from the kitchen. “Hey, baby.”

Billie looked up and immediately softened. Her lips parted, and her eyes went glassy in that familiar way they did when she was too tired to put up any walls.

“Hi.” She murmured, voice rough and quiet. She kicked off her shoes without untying them, letting them thud gently against the baseboard. “I’m so over today.”

Y/N crossed the room and met her halfway. Her hands rose to cradle Billie’s cheeks, her thumbs brushing under her eyes. “Come here.”

Billie leaned forward into her immediately, dropping her forehead to Y/N’s shoulder. She exhaled slowly, like it hurt to let go of the tension.

“Long one?” Y/N whispered, her fingers sliding into Billie’s hair, gently pulling out the messy tie and letting her curls fall loose.

Billie nodded. “So many interviews. Then a zoom with management that went an hour over. My brain is dead.”

Y/N smiled softly, pulling her closer. “Well, you’re done now. Come let me make you dinner.”

Billie let out a low noise in her throat—something like gratitude wrapped in exhaustion—and nodded again, tighter this time.

—

Billie sat on the counter, legs dangling just above the floor, palms flat behind her to hold herself up. Her oversized shirt had slipped down one shoulder, exposing soft skin and the thin black strap of her bra.

Y/N stood at the stove, wooden spoon in one hand and the other resting on her hip as steam rose in delicate curls from the pot. The smell of garlic and tomato filled the air.

“You’re spoiling me.” Billie said, voice still scratchy but a little more alive now.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “You say that like I don't like doing it.”

Billie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Of course I do, baby.” Y/N said. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

Billie raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like you’d rather eat me than the pasta.”

Billie smirked but didn’t deny it.

Y/N turned back to the pot and stirred slowly. She fished out a single piece of penne with the spoon, lifted it, then paused. “It’s hot.”

She brought it to her lips and blew gently, small puffs of air cooling the surface. Her eyes flicked to Billie’s as she stepped forward, spoon raised.

“Tell me if it’s done or if it needs another minute.”

Billie leaned in without hesitation and let Y/N feed her. Her lips closed around the piece, chewing slowly.

Y/N watched, waiting.

Billie nodded, licking the corner of her mouth. “Perfect.”

Y/N just smiled and began plating the food, fingers working with casual familiarity. She filled one dish a little more than the other and set it aside. Then she reached into the fridge, pulled out a glass pitcher of water, and poured it into a cup.

Billie accepted it without a word, watching her the whole time like Y/N was the only thing keeping her upright tonight.

Once everything was done, Y/N stepped between Billie’s legs and held the fuller plate with a soft smile.

“Wanna eat like this? Or would you like to sit on the couch?”

Billie wrapped her arms around Y/N’s waist and rested her chin against her chest. “I wanna eat like this. Right here.”

Y/N handed her the plate and Billie balanced it carefully on one hand as she forked a bite of pasta with the other. Y/N stood there between her legs, her own plate in one hand, close enough that their legs brushed every time she shifted.

“Tell me about your day, baby.” Y/N said softly.

Billie twirled the fork slowly. “The first interviewer asked me if I was planning on quitting music. Just straight-up, like that.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re kidding.”

Billie shook her head. “Then the next one wanted to talk about my weight. Again. Like it’s a topic I signed up for.”

Y/N gently reached up and brushed her fingers across Billie’s jaw. “You didn’t. And they’re assholes.”

Billie gave a small smile, chewing another bite. “Then I had a shoot. I was standing under lights for three hours in huge jackets in July. Felt like I was going to pass out.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I did.” Billie said, her voice low. “But everyone always says, ‘just a little longer.’”

Y/N leaned in and kissed her forehead. “No more of that tonight. You’re here. And I’m gonna make sure you feel nothing but loved for the rest of the night.”

Billie leaned forward and rested her head against Y/N’s chest again, plate balanced off to the side.

“You already are.” She murmured.

—

The bathroom filled with a low hush of running water and warm steam. The light was dim. Y/N knelt beside the tub, rolling the sleeves of her sweatshirt up as she tested the temperature with her fingers. Perfect. Not too hot. Just enough to melt everything Billie had carried in with her.

She stood and turned back toward her girl.

Billie stood quietly in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her arms were crossed lazily over her stomach, eyes half-lidded and hazy from the warmth already creeping into the room.

“Come here, baby.” Y/N said softly, beckoning her with a finger.

Billie padded over without a word, her feet bare and her face flushed from the heat.

Y/N’s hands went first to the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly up and over her head. Billie raised her arms, letting herself be unwrapped, the shirt dropped to the floor in a quiet heap. Her bra came next, undone with practiced ease. Y/N let it slide from Billie’s shoulders like it was silk.

Her breasts spilled free—soft, full, slightly pink from the room's heat. Y/N’s eyes lingered there for a moment too long.

Billie caught it, and a tiny smile curved her lips. “Like what you see?”

“Always.” Y/N said under her breath.

Billie stepped out of her shorts and underwear next, letting them fall as she climbed into the tub. The water welcomed her like a hug. She let out a soft moan as she settled in, arms resting on the sides, shoulders sinking beneath the bubbles.

Y/N knelt behind her, careful and slow, and scooped warm water over Billie’s hair. She poured it gently from a small cup, watching it stream down her girl’s back.

“Close your eyes for me.” Y/N whispered, unscrewing the bottle of shampoo.

Billie obeyed, lids fluttering shut.

Y/N’s fingers slid into her scalp, gentle and loving as she massaged the shampoo in, working slow circles across her skin. Billie let out a soft breath, head tilting slightly toward the pressure.

“You always do it better than the salon.” She murmured.

“I’d hope so.” Y/N whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of her wet head. “I love you more than they do.”

That earned her a little hum—sleepy, content.

Y/N rinsed her slowly, careful not to get soap in her eyes. Then came the conditioner, her fingers combing softly through knots, untangling each strand as she worked.

When Billie’s hair was smooth and rinsed, Y/N reached for the washcloth and gently dragged it down her shoulders, over her collarbones, across her back. Her movements were slow, unrushed, like Billie was something sacred.

Then she shifted to her front.

Billie looked up through damp lashes, letting Y/N’s hands move where they pleased.

The cloth moved over her arms,

then her stomach, then paused. Y/N’s eyes flicked up—just briefly—before she brought the cloth to Billie’s chest.

She moved slowly. First over one breast, then the other. She lingered.

The washcloth dropped slightly, and Y/N used her hands instead. Her fingers slid softly over Billie’s skin, slick with soap and water. She circled her thumb around her nipples, gently squeezing, cupping her breasts like they were fragile and important.

Billie’s breath caught.

Y/N said nothing. Just rinsed her off and continued down her body. She washed her thighs, her calves, even her feet. When she was done, she drained the tub and held out a towel.

Billie stepped out slowly, water dripping down her legs.

Y/N wrapped the towel around her and kissed her bare shoulder. “Hold on, I got you.”

She led her into the bedroom, where soft cotton shorts and one of Y/N’s favorite oversized tees were already waiting on the bed. Billie stood still, letting Y/N pat her dry and dress her slowly, gently—pulling the shirt over her head, sliding the waistband of the shorts into place.

Then Y/N stood behind her, guiding her in front of the mirror.

Billie blinked at her reflection, her hair damp and messy, her eyes soft and fluttery. Y/N grabbed the brush and began pulling it through slowly, section by section, untangling without a single tug.

“Tell me if it hurts.” Y/N whispered.

“You’re always gentle.” Billie said.

Y/N smiled behind her. “You deserve gentle.”

The brush slid through another section, her free hand brushing lightly over Billie’s shoulder as she worked. When she reached the ends, she smoothed them down and set the brush aside.

Then she wrapped her arms around Billie from behind and rested her chin on her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” Y/N said, pressing a kiss to Billie’s cheek.

Billie’s face flushed immediately. She bit her lip and ducked her head slightly, her hand rising to cover part of her face.

Y/N laughed softly and pulled her closer. “No hiding.”

Billie turned slowly in her arms and looked up at her, warm-eyes and pink-cheeked. She rose to her toes and kissed Y/N—soft, lingering, full of gratitude and affection.

Y/N kissed her back, smiling into it.

—

The noises of the television filled the room, flickering light casting shadows across the sheets. The covers were drawn up over their legs, warmth settling in around them as the night deepened. Billie lay curled on top of Y/N, her cheek resting against the rise and fall of Y/N’s chest. Her arms were tucked in, body relaxed and pliant, soaking in every second of being held like this.

Y/N’s fingers were idle beneath Billie’s oversized tee, slow and absentminded, the pad of her thumb making gentle circles on the soft skin of Billie’s stomach. She wasn’t really watching the show—her attention was on the way Billie breathed, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheek whenever she blinked, the way she sighed contentedly every time Y/N exhaled beneath her.

Her hand wandered tighter. Gradual. Her thumb brushed beneath the curve of Billie’s breast.

Billie stirred slightly, her voice small and sleep-scratched. “Baby, what are you doing?”

Y/N didn’t answer with words—she just leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Billie’s forehead. The quiet affection made Billie melt all over again. Her eyelids fluttered shut, a soft hum escaping her as Y/N’s hand crept upward.

Billie’s breath caught when Y/N cupped her breast fully. Then came the slow, kneading motions. The teasing tug at her nipple. Billie whimpered faintly, burying her face further into Y/N’s chest, legs twitching just slightly beneath the covers.

Y/N smiled down at her, tucking a loose strand of Billie’s dark hair behind her ear. “Feel good, pretty?”

Billie’s response was a gentle nod, and then she nuzzled deeper against Y/N. Y/N, patient and attentive, let her fingers continue their careful exploration. Squeezing. Rolling her nipples between forefinger and thumb, slow and firm. Drawing out more of those soft, pleasing little sounds that Billie couldn’t suppress anymore.

Y/N’s hand found the hem of Billie’s shirt and paused, waiting.

Billie opened her eyes and looked up at her, cheeks flushed, lashes heavy. “Yes, baby.” She whispered.

Y/N lifted the shirt up, and Billie sat up just enough to help peel it off before sinking back down into Y/N’s arms. Now, her bare breasts were on full display—soft, perfect, rising and falling with each breath.

Y/N’s gaze softened. “They’re so pretty, B. I love them.”

Billie moaned, quiet and needy, as Y/N tugged on her nipple again, thumb brushing back and forth, switching between both sides. Her hands were worshipful. She wasn’t just groping Billie—she was memorizing her, cherishing her body in the softest, most deliberate way.

Then Y/N gently rolled them until Billie was flat on her back, and she moved to hover over her. She kissed Billie softly, with an aching tenderness, her body pressed lightly on her. One kiss turned into two, then three—one on her lips, one on her cheek, one along her jawline. Then lower, to the soft column of Billie’s neck. Her collarbones. Down, down.

Finally, Y/N’s mouth reached Billie’s chest, and she kissed each breast softly, lips lingering. Billie whimpered when Y/N’s tongue flicked out and swirled around her nipple, then latched on fully, sucking with slow, wet pressure.

“F-Fuck.” Billie whispered, voice hitching as her back arched off the bed slightly.

Y/N didn’t stop. She lavished attention on one boob while her hand massaged the other, pinching, rubbing. She switched sides, making sure both got the same love. Billie’s hand had found Y/N’s hair now, threading through it, holding gently at first—then a little tighter when the pleasure became too much.

Y/N looked up at her through thick lashes, lips still wrapped around Billie’s nipple. Her eyes were wide and full of adoration, a wordless promise that Billie could let go—she was safe here, wanted here, loved here.

Billie leaned down and kissed the top of Y/N’s head, her thumb stroking the crown of her hair. “You’re so good to me.” She whispered.

Y/N trailed her mouth lower, kissing a line down Billie’s sternum, then over the soft swell of her belly. When she reached the waistband of Billie’s shorts, she paused, looking up.

Billie’s breathing was shallow. She gave a small nod.

Y/N slid the shorts down slowly, along with Billie’s panties, revealing more and more of the girl she adored. She tossed them aside and made her way back up, her fingers already brushing lightly over Billie’s slick folds.

Billie let out a breathy moan, eyes fluttering shut. Her head lolled to the side. She was already soaked.

Y/N spread her with her fingers and slid two inside her in one slow push. Billie gasped, hips twitching up toward the pressure. Her eyes flew open to meet Y/N’s again.

Y/N kissed her deeply, hand still working slowly between her legs, curling her fingers just right. Their lips moved together, wet and slow, moaning into each other's mouths.

Then Billie tugged gently on Y/N’s hair, guiding her back down to her chest.

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice.

She moaned against Billie’s breasts, worshipping them again with renewed hunger. Sucking harder. Biting softly. Spitting across her nipples and watching them glisten before dragging her tongue across.

“Oh my god, baby.” Billie whispered, hand now dragging from Y/N’s hair to cup her jaw.

She brought Y/N’s face up to hers again and opened her mouth, sticking her tongue out slightly.

Y/N knew exactly what she wanted.

She leaned in and spit slowly into Billie’s mouth, watching it land on her tongue before Billie closed her lips and swallowed with a moan.

That made something feral flicker in Y/N’s chest.

Her pace quickened slightly—firmer. Deeper. Her fingers hit that spot over and over while she kissed Billie’s mouth, her throat, her tits again.

Billie’s fingers sought out Y/N’s hand—the one not working between her legs—and she laced their fingers together, squeezing tighter, holding her close.

“You’re so good for me.” Y/N whispered against her skin. “Taking it so well. Look at you.”

Billie’s thumb brushed over Y/N’s cheekbone, their eyes locked again. She was panting now, thighs shaking, her moans climbing higher in pitch.

Y/N could feel it building inside her—the tight pulsing of Billie’s walls, the way her body was trying to pull her fingers deeper.

“You gonna cum for me, my sweet girl?” She murmured.

Billie nodded desperately, her jaw slack, head rolling back into the pillow.

“Then do it. Come on, baby. Let go.”

Billie cried out, body tensing around Y/N’s fingers as the orgasm took her. Her free hand clutched Y/N’s tighter, grounding herself through the waves. Y/N kissed her, catching her moans against her lips, slowing her movements just enough to let her ride it out.

After a moment, she eased her fingers out gently, bringing them up to Billie’s chest. She rubbed her fingers over her nipples, smearing her wetness across them, teasing more little gasps from Billie’s trembling form.

Then Y/N raised her fingers to Billie’s mouth.

Billie parted her lips again, obediently taking them in. Her tongue twirled over each finger slowly, her lips wrapped around them until they were clean.

Y/N groaned softly, watching every second. “That’s it. Such a good girl. Cleaned up all your mess.”

She slid her fingers out with a soft pop, then lay down beside Billie, tugging her gently back into her chest.

Billie curled into her, sighing, her legs tangled with Y/N’s. Their fingers still intertwined, chests rising and falling in sync.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of Billie's breathing and the low murmur of the TV.

Then Billie whispered against Y/N’s chin, "Thank you.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to the top of her head, arms tightening around her. “No need, angel baby. You know I’m always gonna take care of you.”

[scarsw1fe]

ugh i’m crying 🥹

i’m sorry, please don’t go

billie eilish x reader

pov: reader and billie get into a fight and reader leaves to go for a drive to cool off. reader gets in a crash and billie meets reader in hospital.

warning: established relationship, angst, fluff, smut, arguing, hospital, blood, hurt/comfort.

the house smelled like rosemary and garlic, the table was set for two, and the food was cold.

when billie had came through the door — hoodie soaked, eyeliner smudged, phone in hand — she didn’t even bother to look up at you.

“hey,” she mumbled, barely glancing up. “sorry that i’m late.”

you didn’t answer.

she dropped her bag on the counter, oblivious to the candle burning low on the table. the lights had been dimmed. the effort you’d put in to make the place feel like a home again.

she didn’t see any of it.

“i made dinner,” you said finally, voice tight.

“oh okay’, she looked over her shoulder, blinking like she forgot where she was. “i already ate.”

the silence after that was unbearable.

you stood slowly, your hands clenched at your sides. “you already ate?”

“i was at finneas’s ,” she said, defensively. “we worked through dinner so he grabbed us something—”

“you realize that you could’ve texted me,” you cut in, voice rising.

billie raised an eyebrow. “i didn’t have time.”

“you didn’t have time?” you repeated. “billie i have been here for hours, cleaning, cooking, buying your favorite shit because i know you’ve been stressed and you didn’t even think to let me know you wouldn’t be home?”

she sighed loudly. “don’t make this a big deal.”

“it is a big deal to me!” you snapped. “i have been doing everything to make things easier for you and i feel like i am screaming for your attention and you’re just somewhere else.”

she ran a hand through her hair, suddenly irritated. “i am literally working, okay? it’s not like i am out partying, i am not doing anything wrong—”

“but you are, you are choosing everyone but me,” you said, voice trembling. “every single day. your friends. your team. even your phone. i don’t even come last, i don’t come at all.”

her jaw clenched. “you’re just being dramatic.”

you stared at her, then laughed — bitter and sharp. “oh my gosh, there it is again. i tell you how i feel and you call me dramatic. real nice i am not dramatic, billie. i’m invisible.”

“i never ever said that,” she snapped.

“you didn’t have to,” you shot back, louder now. “you don’t look at me. you don’t touch me. you come home and it’s like i’m just part of the furniture. do you even want me here anymore?”

billie scoffed, stepping back. “you’re twisting everything that i am doing into some kind of personal attack, i can’t even walk through my own door without getting interrogated.”

“i am not interrogating you, all i’m doing is begging you to give a shit!” you shouted. “do you know how humiliating it feels to pour myself into this place, into you, and get absolutely nothing back?”

“i didn’t ask you to do any of that!” she yelled suddenly, her voice echoing through the apartment.

then silence. your heart dropped.

you blinked at her. “oh wow okay.”

she didn’t back down. “i am sorry, okay? i am sorry that i don’t have the energy to come home and throw you a fucking parade for doing the dishes.”

you stepped back like she hit you.

“i am not asking for a parade,” you said, voice cracking. “i am asking to be seen. to be loved. and you’re acting like that’s some huge fucking inconvenience, like i’m the inconvenience.”

“you are making me the bad guy because i am tired?” she snapped. “because im working my ass off and i can’t give you every second of my attention?”

“i never wanted all of you billie” you said. “i just wanted something.”

she shook her head, voice cold. “it just feels like i can’t win with you.”

“and it feels like i never mattered in the first place.” you replied.

the words landed like glass shattering on tile.

you moved toward the bedroom.

she followed. “what are you doing?”

“i am leaving,” you said, grabbing your bag. “i will be out of your way.”

“don’t you do this,” billie said, voice rising again.

“you already did this,” you shot back. “when you stopped trying.”

“you live here!” she said. “where the hell are you even gonna go?”

you turned, your voice finally shaking. “anywhere else. at least i won’t feel invisible.”

she stared at you, fists clenched, breathing uneven. “you are being ridiculous.”

“no, billie,” you said. “i have been nothing but patient. i have been quiet. i have been trying. you are just too wrapped up in your own world to notice.”

you walked past her.

billie called out, “you walk out that door, we’re done,” she said behind you.

you froze.

then turned back, voice trembling but strong:

“you had already ended it along time ago and i am just finally catching up.”

and then you left — slamming the door behind you.

the cold night air hit your face as you slid into the driver’s seat. your hands began to tremble, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding you together.

your breath came in quick, uneven gasps. you didn’t know where you were going — just anywhere but the apartment that had turned into a battlefield.

you pulled your phone out of your pocket fumbling to unlock it.

you dialed the only number that felt safe.

“hey odessa,” you whispered, voice shaking. “can i please crash at your place tonight?”

there was a silent pause.

“of course,” oddesa said softly, concern bleeding through the phone. “what is wrong? are you okay?”

you swallowed hard, eyes scanning the road, rain-slicked and dark. “billie and i, we fought and it got bad. she said things — things i can’t forget. i am just so tired. i just want to get away for now.”

“okay. drive carefully, alright? please don’t push yourself.”

“i am fine,” you lied. your voice was cracking. “i just… feel so stupid. i had tried so hard to help her, to keep us together. but she didn’t notice. she barely even saw me.”

“hey, i am here. you are not alone.”

you nodded even though she couldn’t see you. “thank you.”

you wiped a tear from your cheek. your grip on the wheel tightened.

“hey maybe, slow down, okay?” odessas voice softened. “it’s pretty wet out there.”

“i am fine,” you insisted. “i just need to get away from all of it, i miss her so much odessa, like im so mad at her but i love her and it hurts.”

then, your tires hit a slick patch on the road.

“be careful!” odessa warned.

you barely heard her.

the world blurred — headlights flashing, rain hammering on the windshield.

your phone slipped from your hand, falling to the floor as the car fishtailed.

time slowed.

metal screeched.

glass shattered.

pain had exploded everywhere.

and then, darkness.

the door slammed so hard the floor trembled then the apartment went still.

for a while, billie didn’t move. she just stood there in the kitchen, staring at the table you had set hours ago — two plates of now-cold pasta, candles still burning, a dish towel folded neatly next to the sink. all of it … untouched.

almost like you’d disappeared out of nowhere.

billie walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down slowly.

her phone buzzed. a group text from her team — something about next week’s schedule. she didn’t respond. her eyes were stuck on your plate. the full one.

you had cooked.

you waited for her to eat.

and she hadn’t even looked.

billie leaned forward, pressing her elbows onto the table, hands dragging down her face.

she didn’t cry — not yet. her anger was still cooling into guilt, and guilt took longer to drown.

in her head, she kept replaying it over and over.

“i didn’t ask you to do any of that.”

“you already ended it. i’m just finally catching up.”

she rubbed the heel of her hand against her chest, as if it could stop the tight, twisting ache growing there.

billie hadn’t meant it. any of it.

but fuck, she’d said it all like she did.

the longer she sat in the quiet, the more the silence got loud. no footsteps. no hum of your music from the bedroom. no soft clinking of mugs as you cleaned up after her like you always did.

billie picked up your water glass from the table. still half full. your lipstick smudged faintly along the rim.

she felt sick.

she walked into the bedroom. the closet door was half-open — a section of hangers empty now. you had taken a bag. she hadn’t even noticed. her eyes flicked to your bedside drawer. still open, still full. you hadn’t taken everything.

just enough to leave.

she sat on the edge of the bed. pressed her fists into her eyes.

then—

BZZZT. BZZZT.

incoming call: odessa

she didn’t want to answer. billie did not feel like talking to anyone.

but still, her thumb swiped across the screen.

“yeah?” she said, tired and flat.

there was a breath on the other end — sharp, panicked.

“billie.”

billie began to sit up. the tone made her stomach drop.

“what?”

“it’s —it’s her. she was on the phone with me driving she got in an accident. it sounded bad, i don’t know all the details yet but—she’s at the hospital. they took her in an ambulance.”

absolute silence.

“billie? are you—are you there?”

she couldn’t speak. her throat locked up.

odessas voice cracked. “billie, you need to go.”

the call ended, but the ringing in billie’s ears didn’t.

she didn’t even realize she was already on her feet, keys in one hand, hoodie in the other.

her chest ached. her lungs forgot how to breathe.

because now, all she could think about was the last thing she said to you.

“you walk out that door, we’re done.”

and you had.

now you were in a hospital bed somewhere.

and billie was drowning in the space you left behind.

the hallway felt endless.

sterile white walls. fluorescent lights buzzing above her like bees in her skull. billie didn’t remember parking. or walking in. she only remembered odessa’s voice:

“she hasn’t woken up.”

her legs began to feel numb.

she turned the corner—and froze.

there it was. your name. printed on a cheap plastic placard beside the door. room 302.

billie didn’t move right away. her hand hovered above the handle.

she wasn’t ready.

how could she be?

she had yelled. she’d let you walk out. said things she couldn’t take back.

and now—

now the only version of you she had was the one her memory kept replaying:

tears in your eyes. your voice cracking.

“you already ended it. i’m just finally catching up.”

her chest began to cave at the thought.

but she pushed the door open anyway.

it was dim inside.

machines hummed softly. a monitor beeped with rhythmic precision. The IV bag beside you swayed gently from the ceiling hook.

and you…

you were still.

too still.

your skin was pale under the fluorescent wash of hospital light, a cut along your hairline bandaged neatly. there was dried blood crusted near your temple. your hands lay limp against the blanket. one bruised. scraped.

billie stepped closer, every part of her vibrating with regret.

“odessa,” she breathed.

odessa stood from the chair near your bedside, her face tight with exhaustion and barely contained frustration.

“where the hell have you been?” she whispered, not yelling—because yelling would’ve shattered the room.

billie couldn’t answer. she just looked at you.

odessa swallowed hard. “she asked to stay with me. she was crying. she didn’t even know where she was going.”

“i know,” billie croaked, her voice rasped. “i know, i was so fucking stupid.”

“you were cruel,” odessa said, but not out of hatred—just hurt. “and she still loved you, she told me on the phone before she crashed how mad she was at you but how she loves you so much.”

billie’s knees gave out a little as she dropped into the chair beside your bed. her hand reached forward instinctively—but she stopped, hovering just above yours.

“i didn’t mean it,” she whispered, eyes locked on your face. “any of it. i was tired and i was angry. i let everything else come first, and i didn’t even see what i was losing, and im so fucking sorry baby.”

you didn’t move.

her hand trembled as it finally touched yours—soft, light, like she was afraid she’d break you further.

“i am here now,” she murmured. “i am so sorry, baby. please just… wake up.”

she leaned in, pressing her forehead to the back of your hand, her voice shattering now into quiet sobs.

“i will do better,” she whispered. “if you give me the chance, never will i ever make you feel like that again.”

the only answer she received was the steady beep of your heart monitor.

but billie stayed. clutching your hand like a lifeline.

because losing you was not an option to her.

you woke up to the sound of crying.

not loud. not sobbing. just… soft, broken sounds. like someone trying not to fall apart.

at first, everything was fuzzy. the harsh smell of antiseptic. the low beeping of machines. the weight in your limbs. the ache in your skull. the sharp, dry pull of your throat when you tried to swallow.

and then—

“shhhh,” a voice murmured nearby. familiar. gentle. “she is going to be okay.”

you blinked slowly, your lashes heavy. the room came into focus one frame at a time.

dim hospital lights. a chair beside your bed. odessa standing above it, hand resting on someone’s back.

billie’s back.

she was hunched over, clutching your hand like it was the only thing anchoring her. shoulders shaking. her hoodie hood up, but it didn’t hide her red eyes or the mascara smeared down her cheeks.

your heart clenched.

odessa noticed first.

“billie she’s waking up,” she whispered, her voice urgent but quiet.

billie lifted her head so fast her hair flew forward, eyes wide and glassy.

“baby?” she choked out.

your throat was too dry to speak. but you blinked again, slower this time. your fingers twitched beneath hers.

“hi baby,” billie breathed. her hand tightened around yours. “you are okay. you’re okay, i’m here.”

you tried to nod, but it hurt.

“don’t move,” odessa said gently, stepping closer. “you have got a mild concussion. some bruised ribs, and a broken leg. they want to keep you overnight, but you’re going to be alright.”

billie let out a shuddered breath like she’d been holding it for hours.

your eyes slowly drifted back to her — swollen with guilt, soaked with tears, her hand never leaving yours.

“i am so sorry,” she whispered. “i didn’t mean what i said. i was angry. i didn’t think you’d actually—” her voice cracked. “i should’ve run after you and stopped you, i never should’ve never let you walk out that door.”

you blinked again, slowly.

odessa reached for a cup of water and held the straw to your lips. you sipped, wincing slightly, but the cold helped.

“i told you she’d want you here,” odessa said softly to billie. her tone had softened too. “even if she’s mad. even if you messed up.”

billie shook her head, still wrecked. “i don’t deserve it.”

you rasped something — barely a whisper.

they both leaned in.

“what was that?” billie asked, brushing hair gently from your forehead.

you swallowed hard and managed a cracked, quiet few words:

“you’re an idiot.”

billie let out a broken laugh — like it hurt and healed at the same time.

you tried again. “you always come late.”

this time her tears came faster. she leaned down, pressing her lips to your hand, voice shaking:

“never again.”

and for once, you believed her.

because this wasn’t just guilt — it was love.

messy, desperate, unconditional and finally visible love.

the room was quiet.

too quiet for how loud everything felt inside you.

the monitor beside your bed beeped steadily. billie sat in the chair next to you, her hoodie draped over her lap now, legs tucked up like she was trying to shrink herself. her fingers were tangled with yours again — not tight, just there. holding. waiting.

you watched her for a long minute before speaking.

“billie i thought i was gonna die,” you said quietly, voice hoarse from the oxygen.

billie flinched. her eyes darted to yours. “don’t say that.”

“its true,” you murmured. “the car was spinning and i couldn’t even think. i just kept wondering if you’d care. if you’d even pick up the phone.”

billie’s face crumpled. “don’t. please baby. i care so much it makes me sick.”

“then why didn’t you show it?” you asked, not angry — just tired. “why did it take this to happen for you to finally see me?”

“i don’t know,” she whispered, voice thick. “i think i was scared.”

you blinked at her. “of what?”

“of needing you,” she said, eyes flicking to yours. “of depending on you. i have spent so long keeping my head down, staying focused, not letting anything distract me. but you weren’t a distraction, you were—” her voice cracked. “you were home. and i didn’t know how to balance the two.”

you swallowed hard. “so you pushed me out.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said quickly. “i thought… that if i just got through the next deadline, the next tour meeting, the next whatever — then i would have time. then i’d be able to breathe and show you how much i love you. but every time i came home, you were already hurting and i didn’t want to face that. so instead… i just looked away.”

you nodded slowly. “i kept trying to be enough for the both of us. and it broke me.”

“i know,” billie whispered. “and i hate that i made you feel like you were invisible. i saw it. i just didn’t stop to say anything. snd now, all i can think about is how close i came to never being able to fix it.”

you stared at the ceiling, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “you said if i walked out that door, we were done.”

she reached out, cupping your cheek gently. “i said that to hurt you. because i was hurting and selfish and stupid. but i didn’t mean it. i never wanted to lose you. i just didn’t know how to ask for help without feeling weak.”

your throat tightened. “and i didn’t know how to stay without feeling unwanted.”

billie climbed gently onto the edge of the hospital bed, careful not to touch the iv or hurt you more than she already had. she leaned her forehead against yours.

“i want you baby ,” she whispered. “i love you, i never ever stopped, i just stopped saying it the way you needed me to, and i’m so fucking sorry for that”

tears began slipping down your cheeks. “you scared me.”

“i scared myself,” she said. “but i am done being distant. i want to fix this, fix us. not just tonight. not just with flowers or texts. i want to show up for you, every single day. even when i am tired. even when i suck at it, i promise to still show up.”

you let out a shaky breath. “it is gonna take time.”

“i got time,” she said. “if you’ll give me the chance, i will spend every day proving it. i love you”

you looked at her, like really looked at her— eyes red, hands trembling, but wide open in front of you. no defenses. no excuses.

just her. the girl you fell head over heels for.

and somehow, despite everything, she still felt like home.

you nodded.

“i will give you one chance,” you said softly. “but you don’t get another, i don’t know if i can take anymore heartbreak.”

she smiled, tearful and real. “i won’t need another, just one, i’m gunna make this right my love.”

and for the first time in what felt like forever — you believed her.

they released you that night to go back home.

the moment you walked through the front door, you began to feel more at ease. inside of a home that felt yours again.

billie hovered nearby, eyes scanning your every movement with gentle worry.

“let me carry your bags,” she said, voice tender but firm.

you smiled weakly, still sore but grateful. “you are spoiling me.”

she grinned, brushing a stray hair from your face. “you just got out of the hospital. you deserve to be spoiled.”

later that night, in the bathroom, billie didn’t let you stand alone.

“come here,” she said softly, wrapping an arm around your waist, lifting you carefully into her arms.

you laughed, breath catching from the sudden lift. “hey, baby i’m not that fragile.”

“no you may not be ,” she whispered, “but i am stubborn.”

she carried you to the shower, the warm water steaming around you both.

billie’s hands never stopped moving — washing your hair, your back, careful not to touch any bruises or scratches.

you began leaning into her, the closeness soothing in a way neither of you had expected.

she kissed your temple, whispering, “we are in no rush, okay? i am here. every step of the way, every single day.”

the world outside faded, just for this moment — soft water, her steady presence, and the feeling that you were exactly where you belonged.

billie dried you off with the softest towel she could find, carefully patting your skin like you were made of porcelain. her touch was reverent — not out of pity, not out of guilt — but like she was rediscovering you.

she carried you back to bed, refusing to let your feet touch the floor, mumbling something about “doctor’s orders” even though no doctor had told her that.

you laughed, and her whole face lit up at the sound — like it cracked something open in her chest.

she settled you beneath the blankets and climbed in beside you, pulling you gently into her arms. her fingers began tracing soft circles on your hip beneath the hem of the oversized tee you wore — hers, of course — and her nose brushed your temple.

“you smell like my shampoo,” she murmured.

“well you did wash my hair,” you whispered back.

she chuckled, breath warm against your skin. “well yeah, but now you smell like me and home.”

you turned toward her slightly, noses almost touching, your fingers finding hers beneath the blanket. her eyes flicked to your mouth, but she didn’t kiss you — not yet. she was waiting for you. letting you lead.

“i really missed this,” you whispered, heart swelling. “i missed you.”

her thumb brushed over your knuckles. “you didn’t lose me. you just… reminded me what i could’ve lost. and i am never ever letting that happen again.”

you leaned in first, and the kiss was soft — not hungry or desperate, just real. her lips moved against yours like a promise, like an apology written in warmth and slow breaths.

when you parted, she nuzzled closer, her voice barely a whisper:

“let me take care of you. not just tonight or while you’re healing. always.”

you nestled into her chest, heartbeat syncing with hers.

“okay,” you said softly. “just please don’t stop holding me.”

“never again,” billie whispered, pulling you closer. “you are my favorite place to be.”

and in the quiet, wrapped in each other and clean sheets, with limbs tangled and hearts slowly mending, it didn’t matter how broken things had been.

only that they were being rebuilt, brick by brick, in soft touches and sleepy kisses — together.

the room had gone quiet again. not awkwardly — but in that soft, late-night way where the air feels like it’s holding its breath for you.

you laid tangled together, billie’s arm tucked under your neck, the other hand tracing light lines along your ribs beneath the blanket. her shirt was loose on your frame, warm from her skin, and the faint scent of her shampoo still clung to your hair.

she kissed your forehead, then your cheek. then again, just below your jaw, like she couldn’t stop herself. each kiss was soft and slow — not asking for anything. just giving.

“i really am so fucking sorry,” she murmured quietly. “for everything. for how i made you feel. for the things i said to you.”

your fingertips grazed her waist. “i know.”

“i really didn’t mean any of it,” she said, eyes locked on yours in the dark. “you were never invisible to me. i was just so stupid and i just got so caught up in everything else that i forgot the best part of my day was always coming home to you.”

you swallowed hard, the warmth of her words settling deep in your chest.

“i shouldn’t have walked out on you,” you whispered. “i was hurt. but i should’ve said more instead of slamming the door.”

“i said things that hurt you first,” she said, shaking her head. “i saw everything you were doing, i just… i didn’t let myself slow down long enough to really feel it. and by the time i finally did, you were already gone.”

you shifted, burying your face into her neck, her arms wrapping tighter around you like she was anchoring herself.

“i really thought i had lost you,” she whispered into your hair. “i have never been more scared.”

you tilted your face toward hers, catching her lips in a gentle kiss — no urgency, just the need to be close.

it then melted into a second kiss. then a third. you smiled against her mouth.

“youdidn’t lose me,” you whispered. “but i do need you to meet me halfway. i can’t keep holding us both up alone.”

she nodded, brushing her nose against yours. “i promise you won’t have to. i swear to you baby— i’m showing up. every morning. every night. for us. for you. for our future.”

your fingers found hers and laced with them under the covers.

“okay,” you said softly. “then let’s start here.”

she kissed your knuckles. “you are perfect.”

billie shifted until your head rested over her heart, her fingers drawing slow circles on your back. you could feel her heartbeat — calm now, steady — like she only breathed right when you were next to her.

neither of you spoke for a while after that. just touches. just kisses. forehead to forehead, nose to nose, breath syncing in the quiet.

and when you drifted to sleep, billie was still whispering apologies into your hair, soft i love yous between each kiss — promising, over and over, that she’d never let you feel unseen again.

thank you everyone for reading, it means so much to me! follow me and let’s be mutuals, leave any asks or requests! much love mwahh💌🫶🏽

[scarsw1fe]

Stay

Natasha Romanoff x reader

It started with convenience. That’s what they told themselves.

Natasha had her own place, of course. Sleek, modern, impersonal. But more and more, she ended up at Y/N’s apartment after long missions. At first, it was just for a night or two. She’d crash on the couch, barely say a word, and be gone by morning. But then it became a pattern, then a habit. Then something neither of them talked about.

Now, it wasn’t strange to find Natasha in Y/N’s kitchen before sunrise, barefoot and quiet, sipping coffee like she lived there.

Y/N rubbed sleep from her eyes as she shuffled out of her bedroom, hoodie sleeves covering her hands.

“You’re up early.”

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, smirking softly.

“You’re always surprised. It’s endearing.”

“Most people don’t wake up at five a.m. to reorganize the spice rack.”

Natasha lifted a shoulder and turned back to the stove. She moved with ease in the space, your space, but it didn’t feel intrusive. It felt... right. The smell of coffee and eggs filled the room. A pan sizzled quietly. Her hair was slightly messy, a soft red halo around her face in the morning light. And she was wearing Y/N’s oversized sweatshirt, the faded black one with a fraying cuff and a small bleach stain.

Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.” She said before she could stop herself.

Natasha didn’t turn around.

“Yeah.” She said, like it wasn’t a big deal. “It smells like you.”

Y/N blinked.

“That’s... not weird?”

“Not to me.” Natasha finally looked at her then. Her voice was casual, but her eyes were anything but. “Unless you want it back.”

“No.” Y/N said quickly, maybe too quickly. “Keep it. It looks better on you.”

There was a flicker of something between them. It wasn’t new, but it felt closer to the surface than usual. Natasha’s lips quirked at the corners, but she didn’t push it. She rarely did.

They ate breakfast on the couch, plates balanced on their knees, watching the muted news on TV.

Natasha sat close, close enough that their thighs touched. Y/N tried not to think about it too much. She was used to this, their quiet intimacy, the way Natasha would lean her head on Y/N’s shoulder during movies, the way she always made two cups of coffee even if Y/N wasn’t up yet.

They were friends. Just friends.

Except that sometimes, in moments like this, Y/N let herself wonder.

She glanced sideways, taking in the way Natasha looked so at home in her apartment. In her clothes. In her life.

“Why do you come here?” She asked softly.

Natasha paused mid-sip. “You want me to stop?”

“No.” Y/N said quickly, heart hammering. “That’s not what I meant.”

Natasha set her mug down carefully, then looked at her. Really looked at her.

“I come here because it’s the only place I don’t have to pretend I’m okay.” She said. “Because you make it easy to breathe. And I don’t know what that means yet, but I know I don’t want to lose it.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“You won’t.” She whispered.

They sat there, unmoving, the morning stretching warm and quiet around them. Natasha’s fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out, but didn’t. So Y/N did it first.

She took her hand, slow and gentle.

Natasha didn’t pull away.

“I like waking up next to you.” She said.“Even if it’s just in your living room.”

Y/N smiled, tears stinging her eyes for no good reason.

“Then stay.”

Natasha’s smile was soft, almost shy. She leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder again, this time with a little more weight. A little more meaning.

They sat like that until the sun climbed higher, their fingers intertwined, hearts not pretending anymore.

—

The day moved on, but neither of them left the apartment.

Natasha stayed curled on the couch for hours, flipping idly through a book she wasn’t reading, her feet tucked beneath her and her head propped on one hand. Y/N busied herself in the kitchen, not because she needed to, but because her thoughts wouldn’t slow down. Not after that morning.

“I come here because you make it easy to breathe.”

She kept replaying those words, and the way Natasha had said them. Quiet. Honest. Vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

Y/N made them both tea and brought it over to the living room. Natasha took the mug with a soft thank you, her fingers brushing Y/N’s as she did. That little touch, casual on the surface, lingered too long to be accidental.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. But it was charged now, heavy with all the things they weren’t saying.

Eventually, Natasha broke the quiet.

“I’ve been trying not to ruin this.”

Y/N turned to look at her.

“Ruin what?”

“This.” Natasha said, motioning between them with the smallest gesture. “You. Us. Whatever it is.”

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest.

“You wouldn’t ruin anything.”

Natasha gave a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, and set her mug down.

“You say that now.”

Y/N shifted, turning to face her fully.

“Then let me say it again when you’re closer.”

That caught Natasha off guard. Her breath hitched, and her eyes darted to Y/N’s mouth before she could stop herself.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded. “I’ve been sure.”

Slowly, so slowly, Natasha leaned in.

Her hand came up first, resting gently against Y/N’s jaw like she was still giving herself time to pull back. Her thumb brushed a soft line across Y/N’s cheek, her breath mingling with hers.

Y/N tilted her face up, just enough.

And then Natasha kissed her.

It wasn’t passionate, not at first. It was quiet, like a question finally spoken out loud. Her lips moved against Y/N’s in slow, aching discovery. Y/N’s hand found her waist, pulling her just slightly closer, grounding them both in the warmth of it.

When they finally parted, Natasha stayed close, her forehead resting against Y/N’s.

She exhaled shakily.

“That wasn’t a mistake?”

Y/N smiled, eyes still closed.

“No. It was you. How could it be?”

Natasha let out a sound that was part laugh, part something softer, and buried her face in the crook of Y/N’s neck.

“Okay.” She whispered.

“Okay.”

And then, barely audible, “Let me stay.”

Y/N held her tighter.

“Always.”

Natasha pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N’s face. She reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, her touch gentle and reverent.

“I want to make you feel good.” She murmured, her voice low and soft.

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she nodded, her eyes never leaving Natasha’s. Natasha leaned in, her lips capturing Y/N’s in a soft, lingering kiss. Their tongues danced together slowly, exploring each other’s mouths with a tenderness that made Y/N’s heart ache with want.

Natasha’s hands roamed gently over Y/N’s body, tracing the lines of her curves through her clothes. She took her time, as if committing every inch of Y/N to memory. Y/N’s breath hitched as Natasha’s hands found the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it up and over her head.

Natasha’s eyes roamed over her, taking in the sight of her, and Y/N felt a flush spread across her skin.

“You’re beautiful.” Natasha whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. She leaned down, pressing soft kisses to Y/N’s collarbone, her neck, her shoulders, her hands gentle as they explored her body.

Y/N’s head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips as Natasha’s touch sent shivers down her spine.

Y/N’s hands found the waistband of Natasha’s (Y/N’s) sweatshirt, pulling it up and over her head. She took a moment to admire the sight of Natasha, her body lithe and strong, her skin smooth and flawless.

Natasha smiled softly, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks as she reached for Y/N, pulling her close.

Their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, and Y/N could feel the heat of Natasha’s body, the rapid beat of her heart. Natasha’s hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer, their breaths mingling as they kissed deeply, passionately.

Natasha’s hands found the waistband of Y/N’s pants, slowly pulling them down, her touch gentle and teasing. Y/N was lying before Natasha, vulnerable and exposed. Natasha’s eyes roamed over her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“You’re perfect.” She murmured, her voice low and husky. She leaned down, pressing soft kisses to Y/N’s stomach, her hips, her thighs, her touch light and feather-like. Y/N’s breath hitched, her body arching into Natasha’s touch, begging for more.

Natasha’s hands found Y/N’s center, her touch gentle and exploring. She took her time, learning Y/N’s body, discovering what made her gasp, what made her moan. Y/N’s hands found Natasha’s hair, tangling in the soft strands as she held on, her body trembling with need.

“Natasha.” She gasped, her voice hoarse with desire. “Please.”

Natasha looked up at her, a soft smile on her lips.

“I’ve got you.” She murmured, her voice low and soothing. She leaned down, her tongue replacing her fingers, her touch gentle and teasing. Y/N’s body arched off the couch, a cry of pleasure escaping her lips as Natasha brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

Natasha’s fingers joined her tongue, moving in a slow, steady rhythm that had Y/N’s body trembling with need. She could feel her orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume her. Natasha’s touch was gentle but insistent, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as she brought her to the edge and pushed her over.

Y/N’s body shook with the force of her release, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she cried out Natasha’s name. Natasha held her, her touch gentle and soothing as Y/N came down from her high, her body trembling and spent.

Natasha pressed soft kisses to Y/N’s stomach, her hips, her thighs. She looked up at Y/N, a soft smile on her lips.

“I want to try something.” She said softly. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

Y/N nodded, curious and eager.

“What do you have in mind?”

Natasha’s smile turned mischievous.

“I want to feel you against me.” She whispered.

Y/N’s breath hitched, knowing exactly what Natasha meant, but she nodded eagerly.

“I’d like that.” She said, her voice barely a whisper.

Natasha positioned herself between Y/N’s legs, their bodies aligning perfectly. She leaned down, capturing Y/N’s lips in a passionate kiss as she began to move against her, their bodies rubbing together in a slow, sensual rhythm.

The sensation was intoxicating, the friction between them building a slow, steady heat. Y/N’s hands gripped Natasha’s hips, urging her on, her body arching into hers.

Natasha’s movements were slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s face as she brought them both to the brink.

Their bodies were slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they moved together, their hips grinding against each other in a perfect, syncopated rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of their pleasure, their moans and gasps echoing off the walls.

“You feel so good.” Y/N moaned, her voice breathless and urgent.

Natasha’s response was a low, guttural moan, her body moving faster, her hips grinding against Y/N’s with more insistence. She reached down, her hands cupping Y/N’s breasts, her thumbs teasing her nipples, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing through Y/N’s body.

Their orgasms hit them at the same time, a crashing wave of pleasure that left them both gasping and trembling in each other’s arms. Natasha collapsed on top of Y/N, her body slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. Y/N wrapped her arms around her, holding her close, their bodies still moving together in the aftermath of their pleasure.

They lay there for a long time, their bodies entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal.

Natasha’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Y/N’s back, her touch gentle and soothing.

“I never want this to end.” Y/N murmured, her voice soft and sleepy.

Natasha pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“It won’t.” She promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N knew that Natasha was right. This was just the beginning. Their love story was one of revolution, of two souls fighting against the odds to be together. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[scarsw1fe]

Feel you

Natasha Romanoff x reader

The clock on the bedside table ticks louder with every passing second. 2:47 AM. Y/N’s half asleep, curled into the cold side of the bed, the sheets still taut where Natasha hasn’t slept in weeks.

Missions blur together for her, days, time zones, bloodstains scrubbed from her knuckles, but for Y/N, the absence is a hollowed-out thing. Aching. Familiar.

When the key finally turns in the lock, Y/N doesn’t move. She’s memorized the rhythm of her return: the whisper of her boots hitting the floor, the weight of her gear shed piece by piece, the pause at the bedroom door as she watches her pretend to sleep.

Tonight, though, her breathing is uneven. Shallow.

“Y/N.” Her voice is gravel, worn thin.

Y/N turns, and there she is, hair tousled, still smelling of jet fuel and gunmetal, her jacket hanging open to reveal a bruise blooming along her collarbone. But her eyes are soft, green and gold in the dim light, and when she sinks onto the mattress, the bed dips like a sigh.

“You’re late.” Y/N murmurs, reaching for her. It’s a joke, but she flinches.

“I know.” Natasha’s fingers brush her cheek, tentative, as if she might dissolve. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N pulls her down beside her, her hands skimming the tension coiled in her shoulders. Natasha shudders, collapsing into the touch, her face buried in the crook of her neck.

For a while, there’s only this: her breath warming Y/N’s skin, her nails tracing the notches of her spine, the quiet unraveling of a woman who carries the world alone.

“I missed you.” Natasha says, so raw it cracks the air.

Y/N tilts her chin up, thumb grazing the corner of her mouth.

“You’re home now.”

Her kiss is slow, a confession. She tastes like mint and exhaustion, her lips chapped but gentle. Y/N let her set the pace, always let her lead here, where control is the first thing she sheds, and when her hands slip under her shirt, they’re trembling.

“Wait.” Natasha whispers against her mouth, suddenly still.

Y/N freezes

“What’s wrong?”

A beat. Her laugh is quiet, self-conscious.

“Nothing. Just let me look at you.” She leans back, her gaze mapping Y/N’s face like a prayer. “I spent three days in a surveillance van dreaming about this. About you.”

her throat tightens.

“Natasha Romanoff, romantic.”

“Shut up.” She smirks, but her eyes glint. Slowly, she nudges Y/N onto her back, straddling her hips with deliberate grace. Her thumb hooks into the waistband of her sweatpants, teasing. “You gonna let me take care of you tonight?”

Y/N arches an eyebrow.

“Thought you were the one who needed taking care of.”

“Can’t it be both?” Her voice drops, a velvet challenge.

Y/N answers by pulling her into another kiss, deeper this time, her hands fumbling for the clasp of her belt. Nat guides her fingers, patient, until the leather slides free. Her shirt follows, then Y/N’s, the fabric pooling like shadows on the floor.

When she reaches for the drawer, the one where the harness waits, polished and well-loved, Y/N catches her wrist.

“You sure? You’re tired.”

Her smile is a blade, sharp and bright.

“I’ve never been too tired for you.”

But then she softens, cupping Y/N’s face.

“We don’t have to. I just… I want to feel you. All of you.”

Y/N nods, her pulse wild.

“Then show me.”

Natasha’s fingers linger on the harness, her gaze flicking up to Y/N as she steps into it with practiced ease. The leather molds to her hips like a second skin, and she watches, transfixed, as she adjusts the straps with a slow, deliberate tug. Her lips quirk when she catches her staring.

“Like what you see?” She purrs, tilting her head.

Y/N swallows, heat pooling low in her stomach.

“You know I do.”

Nat steps closer, the mattress dipping under her weight as she kneels over Y/N. The cool press of the harness brushes her inner thigh, and she shivers. Her hands bracket Y/N’s face, thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones.

“I’m yours.” She murmurs before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.

Her tongue slides against Y/N’s, hungry but unhurried, as if she’s determined to memorize every gasp she stifles. When she pulls back, her teeth graze her bottom lip.

“Turn over.”

The command, soft but firm, sends a thrill down Y/N’s spine. She complies, pressing her chest to the sheets, and Natasha straddles the back of her thighs. Her palms glide up her girlfriend’s spine, nails scraping lightly, before gathering both her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head.

“Nat.”

“Relax, baby.” Nat breathes against the shell of her ear, her free hand trailing down her side, over Y/N’s hip, fingertips teasing the crease of her ass. “I’ve got you.”

Y/N melts into the sheets, every nerve alight as Natasha’s lips trace the curve of her shoulder. Her teeth sink into the muscle there, a claiming, and she arches with a whimper. Nat soothes the sting with her tongue, chuckling darkly when Y/N squirms.

“Impatient.” She tsks, her hand slipping between Y/N’s legs. Her fingers glide through her wetness, circling her clit with maddening slowness. “Look at you. Already so desperate for me.”

“Please.”

“Please what?” Natasha releases her wrists, her other hand gripping her hip to hold her still.

“Use your words, angel.”

Y/N twists to look at her over her shoulder, meeting her heavy-lidded stare.

“I need you. All of you.”

“Good girl.”

Natasha shifts, her hand leaving her cold for only a moment before the blunt press of the strap replaces her fingers. She teases her entrance, dragging the silicone through her slickness, and Y/N bites the pillow to muffle a groan.

“None of that.” Nat growls, nipping at her earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

The first thrust is shallow, just enough to make Y/N writhe. The second steals her breath, filling her completely, and Natasha lets out a broken moan against Y/N’s neck.

“God, you’re perfect. So fucking tight.”

Y/N pushes back against her, meeting each snap of her hips, the angle hitting that sweet spot deep inside. Natashas hand slips around Y/N’s waist, fingers finding her clit again, and the dual stimulation has Y/N seeing stars.

“That’s it.” Natasha rasps, her rhythm faltering as she chases her own pleasure. “Cum for me. Let me feel it.”

Y/N shatters with a cry, her body clamping around her as waves of heat crash through her. Natasha follows with a strangled gasp, her forehead dropping between Y/N’s shoulder blades, hips stuttering erratically until she stills, trembling.

She collapses beside Y/N, both of them slick with sweat, chests heaving. Her fingers trace idle patterns on her stomach as she catches her breath.

“Still with me?” She asks, voice rough but tender.

Y/N turns to face her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her eyes.

“Always.”

She hums, pulling Y/N against her chest. Her heartbeat thrums under her ear, steady and strong.

“I mean it, you know.” She says quietly. “What I said earlier. I hate leaving.”

Y/N tilts her head up, meeting her gaze.

“But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Natashas thumb sweeps over Y/N’s lower lip, her expression softening.

“When I’m out there… your voice is the only thing that keeps me grounded. That reminds me I’m more than the red in my ledger.”

Y/N kisses her palm, her throat tight.

“You’re everything, Nat. Not just to me. To the world.”

Natasha huffs a laugh, rolling her eyes, but Y/N sees the flicker of vulnerability she tries to hide. She straddles her waist, cradling her face in your hands.

“Let me remind you.” Y/N whispers against her mouth, her hands roaming over Natasha’s body, memorizing every scar, every curve.

Natasha’s breath hitches as Y/N’s touch ignites a fire within her once again. Y/N trails kisses down her neck, her collarbone, her fingers unbuckling the harness. She pulls back, looking into Natasha’s eyes as she brings the strap to her mouth, her tongue flicking out to taste the silicone, her lips closing around it, sucking gently.

Natasha’s eyes darken with desire, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she watches Y/N pleasure herself with the strap, her hips bucking involuntarily. Y/N’s eyes never leave Natasha’s as she continues to suck and lick the strap, her hand moving between her own legs, mimicking the movements Natasha made earlier.

“Y/N.” Natasha whispers, her voice hoarse with need. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Y/N smirks, pulling the strap from her mouth with a pop, a wicked glint in her eye.

“Your turn to watch.” She says, her voice low and sultry as she continues to pleasure herself, her body arching and twisting with every stroke.

Natasha’s hands grip the sheets, her knuckles white as she watches Y/N, her own body responding to the erotic sight. She reaches out, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair, guiding her back to her lips for a deep, passionate kiss.

“You’re incredible.” Natasha murmurs against her mouth, her body pressing against Y/N’s, their hearts beating in sync.

—

When dawn bleeds through the curtains, Nat is sprawled on her back, one arm thrown over her eyes. Y/N traces the arc of the bruise on her collarbone.

“You’re staring.” She mutters, smirking.

“Admiring.” Y/N corrects.

Natasha peeks at her through her fingers.

“Keep that up, and I’ll never leave this bed.”

Y/N kisses the corner of her mouth. “Promise?”

[scarsw1fe]

Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff:

-Needy

-Mechanic

-Locker room

-Backseat

-Feel you

-Stay

-Mirror

-Safe

-Motorcycle

-No hands

Billie Eilish:

-Obsessed

-Melting

-Gala

[scarsw1fe]

Backseat

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Y/N wasn’t supposed to be in the field.

She was a handler. A behind-the-screens type. The one who monitored mission feeds, decrypted Hydra comms, and made sure agents like her had clean exits and fake IDs waiting in three countries.

But today? Fury had other plans.

“Romanoff needs someone off-book. No SHIELD insignia, no trail. Just drive.” He said, sliding a key fob across the desk.

Y/n stared down at it, heartbeat skipping.

“Romanoff?”

“Rushman, technically. She’s working for Stark. Tonight she’s going quiet into Hammer Industries. She’ll need an exit. You’ll provide it.”

“And entry?”

Fury smiled.

“You’ll know when she’s ready.”

Which leads Y/N to now, behind the wheel of a sleek black Audi, engine humming, the air charged with tension. The city glows around Y/N, all glass and red lights. And behind her sits Natasha Romanoff, sharp as a knife and twice as deadly, disguised in a black dress and a wicked smirk.

Y/N grips the steering wheel, eyes on the road, though it’s not the traffic that’s making her pulse spike, it’s her.

Natalie Rushman, or whatever the hell her real name is. Sitting behind her like she owns the night. Legs crossed, red curls loose.

"You know where we're going?" She asks, voice smooth, unconcerned.

"Hammer Industries. Per SHIELD directive." Y/N replies. Professional. Detached.

But she hums, and it snakes down her spine like a slow burn.

"Good." She murmurs.

Y/N’s fingers tighten on the wheel. Knuckles white.

Silence stretches out between them, taunt and humming.

Then, with zero hesitation or warning, Natasha moves.

Y/N catches it in the rearview mirror, subtle motion of her hand reaching for the zipper of her dress.

Y/N’s gaze snaps forward, but it’s too late. The image sears in her brain, Natasha easing out of her black dress, it’s almost hypnotic. Like she’s done this thousands of times. Like she knows the effect she has.

The fabric pools at her waist, revealing a black bra molded perfectly for her. It clings to her like a second skin.

Y/N’s breath stutters. Heat surges up the back of her neck.

And then she swerves, just enough to clip the edge of the lane, tires screeching.

“Watch the road.” Natasha says. She’s already halfway into her suit, arms sliding through the sleeves.

“You could’ve changed before we got in the car.” Y/N mutters, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the road.

“I prefer an audience.” Natasha shrugs, zipping up her suit in one fluid motion. Her voice was low and amused.

Y/N stares ahead, heart hammering, trying so hard not to look.

But then she’s leaning forward over the center console, fastening something on her wrist, a Widow’s Bite, and her shoulder brushes Y/N’s.

Y/N keeps her eyes glued to the road, but her breath stutters.

“Something wrong?” She asks, voice a mix of innocence and provocation.

“Just trying not to crash.” Y/N mutters.

Natasha chuckles, low and amused.

“You’ve been trained for worse situations.”

You shoot her a glance through the rear-view mirror.

“Not sure any SHIELD manual preps you for a fully armed Black Widow stripping in the backseat.”

She finishes strapping the bite to her wrist and leans back, stretching out like a cat, her suit creaking slightly with the motion.

“I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

She smiles, faint and dangerous.

“No. You’re not.”

The silence stretches, thick with tension, unspoken things swimming between them. Y/N pulls off the exit, the city lights fading behind as warehouses and dead streets swallow the car.

Then she breaks the silence.

“You’re calm under pressure.”

Y/N glances at her.

“Is that a compliment or a test?”

She tilts her head.

“Maybe both.”

Y/N slows the car, approaching the rendezvous point. She reaches down to zip her boots, the motion pulling her body tighter into the suit, and Y/N tries to remember how to breathe.

Then, just before she opens the door, she pauses.

“You coming in with me?” She asks.

“Wasn’t ordered to.”

“I wasn’t asking about orders.”

Y/N turns to face her. Her eyes are dark, unreadable, yet laced with something that might be curiosity… might be desire.

“You’re trouble.” Y/N says quietly.

Natasha smirks, already stepping out.

“Only if you’re lucky.”

The door shuts, and she disappears into the night.

Y/N sits for a heartbeat after the door shuts.

Orders echo in her head: Stay with the car. Eyes on the exit route.

But then she hears it, the first distant pop of suppressed gunfire.

She’s already engaged.

Y/N slams the car into park and kills the lights. Y/N grabs the sidearm from the glovebox and follows her into the dark.

Y/n finds the back entrance she slipped into. The lock’s already been picked, clean, fast. She breathes in and steps through.

It’s dim inside. Warehouse lighting flickers overhead. Somewhere deeper in, something crashes.

Then a voice, low, Russian, followed by a muffled grunt and the unmistakable crack of bone.

Y/N follows the trail of bodies like breadcrumbs: one groaning on the floor, another unconscious and zip-tied to a pipe.

She’s close.

Y/n rounds a corner, gun raised, and freeze.

Natasha is mid-spin, legs scissoring around a man’s neck before she slams him to the ground. Fluid. Brutal. Effortless. He doesn’t get back up.

She turns toward Y/N, no surprise on her face. Just that maddening calm.

“Took you long enough.”

Y/N lifts a brow.

“Thought you might need backup.”

Natasha grins, slightly out of breath.

“Backup or an excuse?”

Y/N ignores the heat crawling up her neck.

“Where to?”

She gestures toward a stairwell.

“Data center. Third floor. Hammer’s been stashing stolen SHIELD intel.”

Y/N falls beside her, guns drawn.

The stairwell is narrow, tight, the kind that forces them shoulder to shoulder. Natasha smells like adrenaline and leather. At one point, Y/N’s hand brushes hers, and neither of them pull away.

“You’re good in a fight.” She says quietly as Y/N covers a corner.

“You haven’t seen me fight yet.”

She glances at her.

“I’ve seen enough.”

Y/N breaches the data center fast, a mix of brute force and practiced coordination. Two guards. Two clean shots. Y/N’s impressed Natasha let her take one.

While she’s downloading the files, Natasha watches the door.

Then,

“You know you’re not getting a promotion for disobeying orders.”

Y/N smirks.

“Didn’t do it for a promotion.”

A pause.

Then she turns to Y/N, slow, deliberate, and steps close.

Close enough to feel the heat of her body through that damn suit.

“So.” She murmurs. “What did you do it for?”

Y/N meets her eyes. There’s no evading her now.

“You.”

She doesn’t smile, not quite. But there’s something like it in her eyes.

They hear footsteps. Reinforcements. They both move in sync, weapons raised, back to back.

And just before the first man bursts through the door, she says, almost like a promise:

“You’re in deep now, Y/N.”

And she is

But as she fights beside her, deadly and breathless and alive, Y/n thinks maybe, just maybe, she wants to be.

__

The files were secured. The bodies were left where they fell. Natasha had barely broken a sweat by the time she slid back into the passenger seat of the car.

Y/N followed seconds later, the taste of adrenaline still thick in her throat.

Neither of them spoke. Not yet.

Natasha tilted her head back against the seat, eyes closed for a beat. Then, without looking, she murmured,

“Drive.”

Y/N did, but only for a few minutes.

She didn’t have a destination, and Natasha didn’t offer one. It wasn’t about where they were going. Not anymore.

The car rolled to a quiet stop behind an abandoned warehouse, steam curling off the hood in the cold air. The silence inside the car felt deafening.

Y/N stayed behind the wheel, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Her pulse hadn’t slowed. Not since the fight. Not since Natasha moved like poetry through chaos. Not since they’d fought back to back, breathing the same breath, hearts thudding in time.

And especially not since Natasha had looked at her like that.

"You’re shaking." Natasha said suddenly, her voice low, unreadable.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Y/N turned toward her, and found her already leaning in.

Natasha’s hand hovered near her face, just a breath away.

“You ran into gunfire for me.”

Y/N’s voice was a whisper.

“You knew I would.”

Natasha’s gaze flicked down to her lips, then back up.

“Why?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Maybe she didn’t want one. Maybe she already knew.

Instead, she closed the space between them and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft.

It was urgent. Tasting of danger and adrenaline and restraint finally shattered.

Y/N gasped into her mouth, fingers instinctively tangling in the front of Natasha’s suit. She felt the smooth armor under her hands, the wet fabric, the heat of the woman underneath.

Natasha shifted into her lap in one fluid motion, straddling her. Her mouth didn’t falter. Her hands found Y/N’s waist, confident, demanding, possessive.

Y/N’s mind was a riot of sensations, the rough press of the seat against her back, the flex of Natasha’s thighs on either side of her hips, the sharp bite of her nails through the thin fabric of Y/N’s shirt. Natasha’s mouth was relentless, a demand for surrender, and Y/N gave in, hands sliding up her sides, fingers tracing the hard lines of her suit.

She let out a low, desperate sound when Natasha’s teeth found her bottom lip, a warning and a promise all at once. Y/N’s pulse thrummed under her skin, a frantic beat against the crush of leather and heat.

Natasha’s mouth broke away, trailing down the line of Y/N’s jaw, teeth grazing her pulse point, sharp and deliberate. Y/N’s head tipped back against the seat, breath stuttering, and Natasha took advantage, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark.

“You like that?” Natasha murmured, voice low, taunting, the vibration of her words against Y/N’s throat enough to make her toes curl.

Y/N’s hands found the zipper on the back of Natasha’s suit, fingers trembling as she tugged it down inch by inch, the sound sharp in the confined space. The cool air hit Natasha’s bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from her, and she sucked in a breath, a slight hitch that made Y/N’s stomach twist with a wild kind of satisfaction.

Y/N’s palms skimmed over her newly exposed skin, tracing the curve of her spine, the sharp edge of muscle and bone. She felt Natasha’s body arch into her touch, a subtle shiver running down her back.

Natasha’s mouth found hers again, hungrier this time, a clash of teeth and tongue. Y/N’s hand slid around to her front, finding the smooth, soft skin of her stomach, slipping lower until Natasha’s breath hitched, her hips rolling forward, seeking more friction.

Natasha pulled back just enough to catch Y/N’s gaze, eyes dark, pupils blown wide. She smirked, lips bruised and parted, and whispered,

“Don’t hold back.”

Y/N didn’t.

Natasha’s hands were everywhere, threading into Y/N’s hair, nails scraping along her scalp, the sharp, sweet bite of pain only adding to the fever building between them. Y/N pulled her closer, fingers digging into the hard muscle of Natasha’s thighs, drawing a sharp, breathless gasp from her.

The car’s center console dug into Y/N’s side as Natasha shifted in her lap, her body pressing down, rolling her hips in a slow, devastating grind that had Y/N’s head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck.” Y/N choked out, teeth catching on the curve of Natasha’s jaw as the redhead leaned in, her breath coming in sharp, heated puffs against Y/N’s ear.

Natasha’s hands slid down, tugging Y/N’s shirt up and over her head in a single, impatient motion. Her nails raked down the newly exposed skin, leaving a line of fire in their wake, and Y/N swore, gripping her hips tighter, trying and failing to keep some semblance of control.

Natasha leaned back just enough to tug her own suit down her shoulders, the black fabric slipping over her curves, baring the pale, scarred skin underneath. Y/N’s breath caught, her gaze trailing down the sharp lines of Natasha’s collarbone, the soft curve of her breasts, the taut line of her stomach.

“Eyes on me.” Natasha whispered, catching Y/N’s chin between her fingers, pulling her gaze back up. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and glistening. She smirked, leaning in until her mouth was a breath away. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate, leaning up to capture her lips again, hands sliding down to grip the firm curve of Natasha’s ass, pulling her closer, earning a soft, bitten-off moan from the assassin. Natasha’s hips rolled again, slower this time, deliberate, and Y/N’s restraint shattered.

Without breaking the kiss, Y/N reached for the door handle, fumbling blindly for a moment before it popped open. Natasha let out a surprised, breathless laugh as Y/N all but dragged her into the back seat, the two of them collapsing into a tangled mess of limbs and gasping breaths.

Natasha straddled her again, one knee on either side of Y/N’s hips, her hair falling around them like a dark, tangled halo. She leaned down, lips ghosting over Y/N’s throat, sharp teeth catching on sensitive skin, and Y/N’s head fell back, a rough, needy sound escaping her.

“God, you’re so…” Y/N started, but Natasha cut her off, rolling her hips again, grinding down with enough pressure to rip a strangled moan from Y/N’s throat.

Natasha’s mouth found her collarbone, biting down hard enough to leave a mark, then soothing the sting with a slow, wet swipe of her tongue. Y/N’s hands found her bare back, nails digging in as Natasha’s hips continued their slow, torturous rhythm.

“Natasha.” Y/N gasped, back arching, every nerve ending on fire, the world narrowing to the press of skin and the soft, wet sound of lips on skin.

Natasha leaned back, one hand slipping between them, finding the waistband of Y/N’s pants, fingers dipping just below, teasing, dragging her nails over sensitive skin. She smirked at the shudder it drew from Y/N, the way her hips bucked up, desperate for more.

“Tell me.” Natasha whispered, lips brushing Y/N’s ear, voice dark, wicked, full of promise. “Tell me how badly you want this.”

Y/N’s head dropped back against the cool leather of the seat, eyes meeting Natasha’s, and she felt herself slipping, drowning, completely at her mercy.

“I want you.” Y/N managed, voice rough, breathless. “I want you so fucking bad.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, her fingers slipping lower, finding heat, wetness, and Y/N’s entire body arched off the seat, a sharp, desperate sound spilling from her lips.

“Good.” Natasha whispered, leaning down to capture Y/N’s mouth again, swallowing her gasps, her moans, her whispered curses.

Natasha's fingers teased and explored, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from Y/N's body. Y/N's hands roamed over Natasha's back, feeling the slick sweat and the hard muscles beneath. She tugged at the suit, wanting it off, wanting to feel every inch of Natasha's skin against hers.

Natasha obliged, shifting to pull the suit off completely, leaving her naked and vulnerable above Y/N. Y/N's eyes roamed over her body, taking in every scar, every curve, every powerful line of muscle. Natasha was a work of art, a deadly symphony of strength and grace.

"Like what you see?" Natasha asked, a smug smile playing on her lips.

Y/N reached up, pulling Natasha down for a fierce kiss.

"You know I do." She murmured against Natasha's mouth.

Natasha's hand slipped lower, her fingers finding their target with accuracy. Y/N gasped into her mouth, her hips bucking up to meet the touch. Natasha's thumb circled sensitive flesh, drawing out shudders and moans from deep within Y/N's throat. She was relentless, her touch confident and demanding, knowing exactly what she was doing to Y/N's body.

Y/N's hands gripped Natasha's hips, her nails digging in as she matched Natasha's rhythm, their bodies moving in sync. The car filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the wet slaps of their kisses, and the soft, desperate moans that escaped Y/N's lips.

Natasha broke the kiss, her mouth trailing down Y/N's body. She took her time, exploring every inch of Y/N's skin with her lips and tongue, her hands never stopping their torment. Y/N's body arched off the seat, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as she surrendered to the sensations overwhelming her.

When Natasha's mouth found her core, Y/N let out a cry, her hands tangling in Natasha's hair, holding her in place. Natasha's tongue was skilled, her movements precise and purposeful. She brought Y/N to the edge of ecstasy and kept her there, teasing and tormenting until Y/N was a trembling, begging mess.

"Please, Natasha.” Y/N gasped, her voice hoarse with need. "I can't take anymore."

Natasha looked up at her, a smirk on her lips.

“You can." She said, her voice a low growl. "And you will."

She continued her torment, her fingers joining her tongue, pushing Y/N further and further until she was a writhing, desperate mess. When Natasha finally let Y/N fall over the edge, it was with a cry that echoed through the car, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

But Natasha wasn't done. She crawled back up Y/N's body, her eyes locked on Y/N's, a dark, hungry look in them.

"I want you to fuck me." She said, her voice a low growl. "I want to feel you inside me."

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She nodded, her hands already moving to comply. She flipped them over, pinning Natasha beneath her, her body pressing down on Natasha's, feeling the slick heat of her skin.

Y/N's mouth found Natasha's, their kiss hungry and desperate. Her hand trailed down Natasha’s body, fingers sliding into Natasha, both of them moaning at the sensation. Y/N started to move, her pace slow, steady rhythm, building the pleasure with each thrust.

Natasha's legs wrapped around Y/N's waist, her heels digging into Y/N's ass, urging her on.

"Harder." She demanded, her voice a low growl.

"Fuck me harder."

Y/N complied, the palm of her hand slamming against Natasha's, the car rocking with the force of their movements. The world narrowed to the two of them, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in sync.

Natasha's nails dug into Y/N's back, her body arching off the seat as she met Y/N's thrusts.

"Don't stop." She gasped, her voice hoarse with need.

"Don't fucking stop."

Y/N had no intention of stopping. She could feel the tightness of Natasha’s pussy. She brought her thumb up, finding Natasha's clit, rubbing in time with her thrusts. Natasha's body tensed, her inner muscles clamping down on Y/N, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Y/N’s pussy clenched around nothing at the noises Natasha was making. She took her free hand and reached down to her own clit, rubbing in pace with the thrusts she was giving Natasha.

"Y/N." She cried out, her body convulsing as she found her release. The sight of her, the feel of her, sent Y/N over the edge, her body shaking as she came, her cry mingling with Natasha's.

They collapsed together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Y/N rolled off Natasha, pulling her close, their legs tangling together. Natasha's head rested on Y/N's chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Y/N's skin.

"That was..." Y/N started, but Natasha cut her off with a kiss.

"Incredible." Natasha finished for her, a soft smile on her lips.

“You're incredible."

They lay there for a while, their bodies cooling, their hearts slowing. The world outside the car faded away, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble.

Eventually, Natasha propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Y/N.

"We should get back." She said, her voice soft. "Before they send a search party."

Y/N nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, we should."

They took their time getting dressed, their movements slow and lazy, their eyes never leaving each other. When they were finally dressed, Natasha leaned down, capturing Y/N's lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

"Thank you." She whispered against Y/N's mouth. "For everything."

Y/N smiled, her hands cupping Natasha's face.

"Anytime.” She said. "Anytime, Natasha.”

[scarsw1fe]

Locker room

Natasha Romanoff x reader

The gym was silent, except for the low hum of fluorescent lights and the faint drip of water echoing from a distant shower. Most of the team had cleared out hours ago. But Natasha was still here, cooling down from her solo training session, wrapping her hands with slow, practiced motions as she glanced toward the locker room entrance.

She wasn’t alone.

Footstep tapped against the tile floor behind her. Natasha didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to.

“You’ve been watching me all week.” She said, voice calm.

“Subtle’s not your strong suit.”

There was a pause. Then a soft laugh, a little breathless.

“And you waited until now to say something?” Y/N replied.

Natasha smirked, finally turning to face her. Y/N, the new recruit, leaned against the doorway with the kind of casual confidence that barely masked her tension. Her gaze dropped for a second to Natasha’s exposed stomach, glistening faintly with sweat.

“I was waiting to see how long you could keep pretending you weren’t interested.” Natasha said, stepping closer, her tone almost too casual, like they were discussing the weather instead of the unspoken charge between them.

Y/N’s lips curled into a half-smile, but her eyes were dark.

“Pretending, huh?” She tilted her head.

“I thought you were the one who liked to keep things... subtle.”

Natasha took another step forward, closing the space between them. She didn’t speak at first, just letting the silence hang, thick and heavy with unspoken intentions. Her presence alone made the air feel different, like there was only one thing left to do.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and Natasha felt it, that quick intake of air. She knew exactly what she was doing, the slow way she moved toward her, the confidence she projected like a shield. It was a game. But Natasha never lost.

Y/N shifted slightly, as if to back away, but Natasha reached out, her fingers brushing against her arm teasingly. It was enough to make Y/N freeze, just for a moment. Natasha’s fingers lingered, tracing the curve of muscle beneath the fabric of her shirt before pulling back.

“Don’t pretend you’re not curious.” Natasha whispered, her voice low and almost threatening in its sweetness. She watched the way Y/N’s pupils dilated, the way her body tensed, waiting.

“I’m not pretending.” Y/N said, her voice quieter now, with an edge to it.

“I just didn’t think...”

“Didn’t think what?” Natasha pressed, her smile almost predatory.

“That I might be interested?”

Y/N’s gaze flicked to her lips, and Natasha felt a surge of satisfaction. She wasn’t used to being pursued in this way, not by someone so new, so fresh to the team. But that made it all exciting. The rawness of it.

“I’m not that easy.” Y/N said, although her voice cracked slightly on the last word, betraying her.

Natasha stepped even closer, until they were mere inches apart. Y/N’s breath mingled with hers. Natasha raised a hand, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face, slowly, deliberately, before resting her palm against the side of her neck.

“Who said anything about easy?” Natasha murmured. Her thumb lightly grazed the pulse point just below Y/N’s jaw, feeling the quick thrum of her heartbeat.

“I just don’t like playing games for long.”

Y/N’s breath quickened.

“So, what now?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, but Natasha didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned in, just close enough to make Y/N feel the warmth of her breath on her skin. She could see the way her lips parted slightly, hear the faint hitch of breath.

Natasha's kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened, becoming hungry and demanding. Her hands roamed Y/N’s body, tracing the curves and muscles she'd only imagined until now. Y/N responded with equal fervor, her hands gripping Natasha's hips, pulling her closer, needing to feel every inch of her.

Natasha broke the kiss only to trail her lips down Y/N’s jaw, her neck, tasting the scent of her.

"You taste so fucking good." She murmured, her voice hoarse with desire. She nibbled gently on Y/N’s earlobe, feeling her shiver in response.

"Natasha, don’t tease me." Y/N gasped, her head falling back to give Natasha better access.

A low chuckle rumbled in Natasha's chest.

"Who's teasing?" She slid her hands under Y/N’s shirt, feeling the smooth, warm skin, the firm muscles. She pushed the fabric up, exposing more of Y/N’s body to her hungry gaze.

"Fuck, you're perfect." She whispered, leaning down to take one of Y/N’s nipples into her mouth, sucking gently through the thin fabric of her bra.

Y/N moaned, her fingers tangling in Natasha's hair, holding her in place.

"More." She begged, her hips grinding against Natasha's thigh.

Natasha smiled against her skin, loving the way Y/N responded to her. She trailed her hands down to Y/N’s ass, squeezing firmly before lifting her up. Y/N wrapped her legs around Natasha's waist, her arms around her neck, holding on tight as Natasha walked them to the nearby bench.

She laid Y/N down gently, her body covering hers, their breaths mingling, their hearts pounding in sync. Natasha kissed her deeply, her tongue exploring every inch of Y/N’s mouth. She could feel Y/N’s hands fumbling with the hem of her shirt, trying to pull it off. She obliged, breaking the kiss only long enough to whip the shirt over her head and toss it aside.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she took in Natasha's bare torso, the scars that told stories of her past. She reached up, tracing them with her fingers, her touch light and reverent.

"You're so fucking beautiful." She whispered.

Natasha smiled, capturing Y/N’s hand and pressing a kiss to her palm.

"So are you." She said, her voice soft. But the softness didn't last long. She was on fire, and she needed Y/N to feel it too. She ground her hips against Y/N’s, feeling the heat and wetness through their clothes.

"I need to taste you." She growled, her voice low and dangerous. Y/N nodded, her eyes dark with desire.

"Yes." She hissed.

"Please."

Natasha trailed kisses down Y/N’s stomach, her hands hooking into the waistband of her shorts. She pulled them down slowly, her eyes locked on Y/N’s, watching her reaction. She tossed the shorts aside and leaned down, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck, you smell good." She murmured before diving in, her tongue licking a slow path up Y/N’s slit.

Y/N cried out, her back arching off the bench, her hands gripping Natasha's hair tightly.

"Oh fuck, that feels so good." She gasped.

Natasha smiled against her, her tongue circling Y/N’s clit, her fingers teasing her entrance. She took her time, exploring every inch, learning what made Y/N moan, what made her beg. She slipped two fingers inside, curling them gently, hitting that spot that made Y/N see stars.

"Natasha, I'm close." Y/N panted, her body tensing, her orgasm building.

Natasha looked up at her, her eyes dark with desire.

"Cum for me." She demanded, her voice low and commanding.

"Let me taste it."

And Y/N did, her body shaking, her cries echoing through the empty gym as she came undone beneath Natasha. Natasha slowed her movements, gentling her touch as Y/N rode out her orgasm, her body trembling and spent.

Natasha crawled up Y/N’s body, kissing her softly, her hands cupping her face.

"You're incredible." She whispered, her voice soft and tender.

Y/N smiled, her eyes glowing with admiration.

"So are you." She replied, her fingers tracing Natasha's jaw.

"And I want more."

Natasha's smile turned wicked.

“Oh, you'll get more." She promised.

"But for now, let's take this somewhere else." She stood, pulling Y/N up with her, and led her towards the locker room, ready to explore every inch of her new recruit.

Natasha led Y/N to the locker room, her heart pounding with anticipation. The air was thick with tension and desire, every step echoing with unspoken promises.

She pushed open the door to a private shower stall, the steam from the hot water creating a misty, intimate atmosphere. Y/N followed her in, her eyes never leaving Natasha's as the door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in their own private world.

Natasha turned to face Y/N, her eyes roaming over her body, taking in every curve and line. She reached out, her fingers tracing the damp fabric of Y/N’s bra, feeling the heat of her skin beneath.

"You're so fucking sexy." She murmured, her voice low and husky.

Y/N's breath hitched, and she reached up to pull Natasha closer, her lips meeting in a fierce, hungry kiss. Their tongues danced, exploring, tasting, as their hands roamed freely, desperate to touch every inch of each other.

Natasha broke the kiss only to pull Y/N’s bra over her head, tossing it aside. She took a moment to admire Y/N’s bare chest, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath. She leaned down, taking one nipple into her mouth, sucking and nipping gently, her hand cupping the other breast, her thumb circling the sensitive peak.

Y/N moaned, her head falling back, her fingers digging into Natasha's shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"You’re so good, Nat."

Natasha smiled against her skin, her hands trailing down Y/N’s body. She knelt down, her hands running up the length of Y/N’s legs, her lips following suit, placing soft kisses on her thighs, her hips, her stomach.

Y/N shivered, her body trembling with anticipation.

"Please." She begged, her voice hoarse with desire.

"I need you."

Natasha stood up, her hands cupping Y/N’s face, her thumbs brushing away the damp strands of hair stuck to her forehead.

"You have me." She whispered, her voice soft and tender.

"Every inch of me."

She kissed Y/N deeply, her hands roaming down her back, pulling her flush against her. Y/N could feel the heat of Natasha's body, the hardness of her muscles, the softness of her skin. She moaned into the kiss, her hips grinding against Natasha's, needing more friction, more pressure.

Natasha smiled against her lips, her hands sliding down to Y/N’s ass, squeezing firmly before lifting her up. Y/N wrapped her legs around Natasha's waist, her arms around her neck, holding on tight as Natasha walked them to the shower stall, turning on the hot water.

The spray hit their skin, the steam enveloping them, creating a sensual, intimate cocoon. Natasha kissed Y/N deeply, her hands exploring every inch of her body, her fingers dipping into her wetness, teasing her, driving her wild.

Y/N moaned, her body arching, her head falling back against the cool tiles.

"Natasha, please." She begged, voice whiny.

"I need you inside me."

Natasha smiled, her fingers circling Y/N’s clit, her thumb pressing gently, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Is this what you want?" She murmured, her voice low.

Y/N nodded, her body trembling, her orgasm building.

"Yes." She hissed.

"Please, Nat. I need you. I need you so fucking bad.”

Natasha obliged, her fingers slipping inside, curling gently, hitting that spot that made Y/N see stars. She set a slow, steady pace, her fingers pumping in and out, her thumb still circling her clit, her lips capturing Y/N’s moans in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Y/N’s body tensed, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her cries echoing through the shower stall, her body shaking and trembling in Natasha's arms.

Natasha held her, her fingers slowing, gentling her touch as Y/N rode out her orgasm, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She looked up at Natasha, her eyes glowing with love.

"That was incredible." She whispered, her fingers tracing Natasha's jaw.

Natasha smiled, her thumb brushing away a drop of water from Y/N’s lip.

"We're not done yet." She promised, with a smirk playing on her lips.

"I want to feel you cum again, this time on my thigh."

Y/N's eyes widened, and she nodded, her body already anticipating the pleasure to come. Natasha lowered her to the ground, her body sliding down Natasha's, their lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss.

She lifted one of Y/N’s legs to her side, pressing her against the tiles, her free hand roaming over her body, her lips trailing kisses down her neck. She propped her leg between Y/N’s thighs, pressing against her pussy.

Y/N moaned, her body arching, her hands wrapping around Natasha’s biceps for support.

“Oh fuck.” Y/N whined.

Natasha smiled against her neck, her hands gripping Y/N’s ass, grinding her harder against her thigh with ease. Y/N was overwhelmed with the feeling of Natasha’s hard thigh under her. Her clit pulsed against it, the pleasure taking over her completely.

“That’s a good girl, let it all out for me.” Natasha rasped in Y/N’s ear.

And Y/N did, her body shaking, her cries echoing through the shower stall as she came undone against Natasha's thigh. Natasha held her, her pace slowing but her grip never letting up. She whispered sweet nothings in Y/N’s ear as she rode out her orgasm, her body spent, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Natasha pulled Y/N into a passionate kiss, her hands roaming over her body. She smiled against her lips, her hands squeezing Y/N’s ass firmly.

As they pulled away from the kiss, Natasha rested her forehead against Y/N’s, their breaths synchronized.

“Thank you.” Y/N murmured, voice soft and quiet against the sound of the shower.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Natasha said, placing Y/N down slowly.

As the water cascaded over them, they held each other close, both filled with contentment and happiness.

[scarsw1fe]

Mechanic

Natasha Romanoff x reader

The garage always smelled like oil and metal, but Natasha liked it that way. Grease under her nails, a wrench in her hand, rock playing through the radio; this was her element. Simple, no drama. Just cars and peace.

Natasha had been here since six that morning, sweat dampening her t-shirt, oil tattooing her skin in smudges. Her red hair in a braid, shining bright from the sun. Natasha had known who she was: quiet, skilled at what she does, capable. She kept to herself, found beauty in cars, and rarely let anyone in. Especially not customers. Most of them barely looked at her twice anyway.

So when the bell above the garage door rang and she glanced up, she expected the usual; an old guy with lots of questions or a commuter.

But instead, she saw her.

The woman stood out of place, in a white, business casual dress and heels that didn’t belong anywhere near the oil-stained floors of the garage. Her hair was slightly curled at the bottom, and she had a warmth in her eyes that made Natasha feel uneasy.

“Hi, sorry to just walk in like this. My car’s making this weird knocking sound. I figured it’d be smarter to stop somewhere before I end up on the side of the road.” The woman said, stepping further in.

Natasha grabbed the rag from her back pocket and wiped her hands, trying not to stare.

“What kind of car?” She asked, keeping her voice even.

“Honda. Civic. It’s not old, but not… new. Somewhere in the middle.”

“Aren’t we all,” Natasha smirked.

The woman laughed, and Natasha felt it in her chest. Not the sound, but the way it cracked the stillness inside her.

I’m Y/N, by the way,” the woman said. She offered a hand, hesitated when she realized how dirty Natasha’s hands were.

Natasha looked at her own stained fingers and shrugged.

“Natasha. Don’t worry, I’m better with engines than handshakes.”

“That’s a pretty good line.” Y/N smiled. Natasha bent slightly to take a look towards the parking lot.

“Let me take a look. I’ll have you back on the road in no time.”

But as she followed Y/N out to the Civic, a low anxiety tugged at her. Not because of the car, it would probably be nothing she hadn’t seen before. No, it was the way Y/N moved beside her that threw her off balance. Like someone who didn’t just walk into your garage, but your thoughts.

And Natasha has always been good at building things. What she didn’t know yet was how quickly Y/N would start tearing those things down.

Y/N walked with careful steps, heels clacking softly against the concrete as they reached the Civic. It was silver and a little dusty. Natasha crouched beside it, fingers grazing the tire like a doctor checking for a pulse.

“When does it make the sound?” She asked.

“Usually when I start it.”

Natasha nodded, already cataloguing the possibilities in her head. She popped the hood and propped it open. A puff of heat rose from the engine, and she leaned in, inspecting the joints, looking for the source.

“It’s not the worst I’ve seen,” She murmured.

“Could be the spark plugs or the timing belt.”

Y/N stood a little too close behind her, and Natasha was suddenly aware of how she probably smelled like metal and gas. But she didn’t step away.

“I don’t really know anything about cars,” Y/N admitted.

“My dad used to do all this stuff for me. I never learned, I guess.”

Natasha smiled without looking up.

“That’s what people like me are here for.”

“People like you?”

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Y/N’s. There wasn’t judgment in the question, just curiosity.

“Yeah. People who live under hoods and engines.”

Y/N laughed again, and Natasha cursed herself for how much she liked it.

“You want to wait inside? I can check it out properly and let you know.” She asked, suddenly needing space from the closeness.

“Sure.” Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“But only if you promise to play more rock music. That sounded way better than the top 30 station I’ve been stuck with.”

“You know your genres?” Natasha tilted her head.

“I know enough.”

They traded a look that lingered for a moment before Y/N walked inside.

Back inside the garage, Natasha slid under the car with ease, tools in hand. The radio hummed in the background, AC/DC this time. Something so… comforting.

But the rhythm of her work felt disrupted now.

Because just a few feet away, a woman in white heels sat on a worn bench, legs crossed, watching the grease-stained world around her like it didn’t bother her one bit. Like she might belong there.

And for the first time in a long time, Natasha didn’t want to be left alone.

Natasha slid out from under the car after a few minutes, the smudges on her arms darker now, hair clinging to her forehead with sweat. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then glanced towards the bench where Y/N was seated, legs still crossed and fingers playing with the bracelets on her wrist.

“You’re lucky.” Natasha rasped, standing up and tossing a wrench into her toolbox.

“It’s nothing major. The rattling was coming from a loose heat shield. I can tighten it in fifteen minutes, tops.”

“So I won’t die in a crash?” Y/N smiled.

“Not today,” Natasha smirked, eyes lingering for a beat too long.

“Unless you plan on testing me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Y/N’s eyes sparkled, amused.

“Could be.” Natasha took a step closer, slowly pulling her gloves off with ease.

“But you don’t strike me as the reckless type.”

Y/N tilted her head, almost like she was taking notes.

“You don’t know me.”

“No,” Natasha said, voice a little lower now.

“But I’m good at reading engines. People, too.”

She was standing closer than before, not too close, but enough. Close enough for Y/N to notice the smudged curve of Natasha’s collarbone beneath her shirt, the way her voice curled around words like she meant every syllable.

Y/N held her gaze, but there was a flicker of something. Awareness, maybe. Anticipation.

“Are you always this intense with your customers?” she asked lightly.

Natasha leaned one arm against the nearby pillar, her stance relaxed, her eyes anything but.

“Only the interesting ones.”

A pause stretched between them. The air was warm, but it wasn’t just the heat from the tools anymore.

“You’re not intimidated by much, are you?” Y/N asked, her voice softer now, curious. Maybe a little breathless.

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and confident.

“I work under pressure. Fix problems before they break down completely. I like control.”

That last word sat heavy between them.

Y/N blinked, her lips parting slightly, caught off guard in the best way.

And Natasha, seeing it, stepped back with a small smirk, like she was pulling the choke on purpose, just to hear the engine purr.

“Sit tight,” she said, grabbing her tools again.

“I’ll finish up the Civic. Then maybe…” she paused, glancing over her shoulder.

“You let me buy you a coffee. Since I saved you from that crash.”

Y/N laughed, but it wasn’t quite steady now.

“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

Natasha didn’t say anything, just knelt back down beside the car.

And when she went back to work, the only sound louder than the ratchet clicking was the thrum of Y/N’s heartbeat.

Natasha finished tightening the last bolt and slid out from under the car again, this time slower, like she knew she was being watched, and she was.

Y/N sat forward slightly now, elbows resting on her knees, eyes trailing down Natasha’s figure. The sun coming through the garage door made the sheen of sweat on Natasha’s arms glint, her braid slightly frayed, her jaw smudged with oil.

Natasha stood and rolled her shoulders.

“All done. You’re safe to drive.”

“That fast?” Y/N asked, but there was no surprise in her voice. Just that same quiet interest. That same pull.

Natasha walked over to the sink near the wall and turned on the faucet, scrubbing her hands.

“Told you, nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Y/N’s gaze dropped to Natasha’s hands, the way her veins flexed under skin, the grit swirling down the drain. She didn’t respond, not right away.

“You’ve got a little grease right there.” She finally said, standing and pointing just under Natasha’s jaw.

Natasha looked at her, drying her hands on a towel.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N stepped closer, her heels careful on the concrete, but her gaze steady. She reached up slowly like she might brush it away, but stopped just short, her fingers hovering.

Natasha didn’t move.

Instead, she leaned just slightly into that space. Not enough to touch. Just enough to shift the gravity between them.

“Are you going to wipe it off…” she murmured, voice low.

“Or were you just looking for an excuse to touch me?”

Y/N didn’t answer. Not with words.

Her fingers closed that distance, slow and soft against Natasha’s skin, but Natasha caught her wrist before she could pull away. Just held it there, gently but firm. Her grip wasn’t rough, but it was unshakable.

“I don’t mind.” Natasha said, taking a step closer. Her body was heat and tension, all lean muscle.

“But if you touch, you better mean it.”

Y/N’s breath caught, just slightly.

“Is that a warning?”

Natasha tilted her head, smiling with just the edge of her mouth.

“No. That’s me being polite.”

And then, before Y/N could speak again, Natasha guided her back, slow, one step at a time, until her back met the wall beside the tool rack.

Not aggressive. Just intentional.

Natasha’s palm flattened against the wall beside her head, her other hand still loosely holding Y/N’s wrist. Her eyes never left hers.

“You don’t belong in a place like this.” Natasha said, her voice dropping to a rasp.

“Clean dress. Pretty curls.”

Y/N swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And you?”

Natasha leaned in close, her lips ghosting near Y/N’s ear.

“I smell like sweat and gasoline. And I ruin clean things.”

Y/N exhaled shakily, the tension between them thick now, heavy enough to drown in. Her fingers curled lightly into the front of Natasha’s shirt.

“I didn’t say I wanted to stay clean.”

Natasha pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again, then smiled, like she’d been waiting to hear that.

“You sure?” She asked, voice low and close.

“Because once I start something, I don’t half-ass it.”

Y/N didn’t flinch. She just nodded.

And Natasha, grease-streaked, glowing, smirking, leaned in and kissed her, hot and unhurried. Like she had all the time in the world and every intention of undoing her.

Natasha's kiss was firm and insistent, tasting of sweat and metal, a heady combination that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. Y/N responded with equal passion, her hands gripping Natasha's shirt tighter, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, the world outside the garage fading away.

Natasha's hand that had been against the wall moved to Y/N's waist, pulling her flush against her body, her grip tight and rough. Y/N could feel the hard planes of Natasha's muscles, the heat radiating from her skin. It was a stark contrast to the cool concrete wall against her back, and she reveled in the sensation, her body pressing eagerly against Natasha's.

Natasha's lips trailed from Y/N's mouth to her jaw, then down her neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Y/N's head fell back, exposing more of her neck, and she let out a soft moan. Natasha's hands roamed, one gripping her hip, the other tangling in her hair, tilting her head to give better access.

"Is this what you wanted?" Natasha murmured against her skin, her voice a low growl.

“To be dirty and messed up?"

Y/N's response was a gasp as Natasha's teeth nipped at her collarbone.

"Yes." She managed to whisper.

"More."

A low chuckle vibrated against Y/N's chest as Natasha's hands moved to the straps of her dress, pushing them off her shoulders. The dress slipped down, pooling at her waist, leaving her in just her bra and heels. Natasha stepped back slightly, taking in the sight of her, a smirk playing on her lips.

"You're a vision.” She said, her voice husky.

"All clean and perfect. It's a shame to mess you up."

Y/N reached out, pulling Natasha back to her, her hands going to the hem of Natasha's shirt.

"Then mess me up." She demanded.

Natasha obliged, her lips crashing down on Y/N's once more. The garage, with its tools and grease and metal, became their world, a place of heat and passion and the clashing of their bodies. The radio played on, a backdrop to their dance, their breaths and moans the only words that mattered.

Natasha's hands roamed over Y/N's body, tracing the curves and dips with a hungry intensity. She gripped Y/N's hips, pulling her flush against her own, letting her feel the evidence of her arousal. Y/N gasped, her eyes fluttering open to meet Natasha's fierce gaze.

Natasha's hands tightened on Y/N's hips, and she spun her around, pressing her back against her chest. Y/N could feel the heat of her breath on her neck. Natasha's hands moved to Y/N's wrists, pinning them behind her back with one strong hand, while the other trailed down her stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties.

Y/N let out a soft moan, arching her back, pressing herself more firmly against Natasha.

“I want you to take me right now.” Y/N breathed. Natasha's teeth grazed her earlobe, her voice a low rumble.

"I'm going to bend you over your car and show you what it means to be dirty."

Y/N's breath hitched in anticipation as Natasha guided her to the hood of the Civic, her hands never leaving Y/N's body. She bent her over the car, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of their bodies. Natasha's hand pressed firmly between Y/N's shoulder blades, holding her in place as she trailed kisses down her spine.

Y/N's hands gripped the edge of the hood, knuckles white, as she pushed back against Natasha, urging her on. Natasha's hands roamed over her ass, squeezing and kneading, before lifting up her dress around her waist to the waistband of her panties and slowly pulling them down. Y/N stepped out of them, her body trembling with anticipation.

Natasha stood back for a moment, taking in the sight of Y/N bent over her car, her dress still around her waist, her bra still on, but her panties gone.

"Fuck, you're so sexy like this. All exposed and waiting for me.” She murmured, her voice thick with desire.

She leaned down, her body pressing against Y/N's as she reached around and unclasped Y/N's bra, letting it fall forward. Her hands cupped Y/N's breasts, her thumbs brushing over her nipples, eliciting a soft moan from Y/N.

“You like that?” Natasha rasped out. Y/N could only nod in response, too caught up on the feeling.

"I'm going to fuck you now. Hard and fast."

Y/N nodded, her body aching with need.

"Please." She whispered.

Natasha trailed her hands from Y/N’s tits to between her legs, feeling the wetness from her heat. She teased her clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N.” Nat’s voice is a low purr. She positioned her now clean fingers at Y/N's entrance, her free hand gripping her hip tightly. With one swift thrust, she was inside her, both of them letting out a low moan of pleasure. Y/N from the feeling of Natasha’s long fingers inside of her, and Natasha from the warmth and tightness of Y/N’s pussy.

“Fuck, you feel so good. All tight and wet for me.” Natasha groaned, hand moving in a steady rhythm.

Natasha set a punishing pace, her hand slapping against Y/N’s pussy, the sound of skin meeting filled the garage. Y/N pushed back against her, meeting each thrust with equal fervor. The car rocked slightly with the force of their movements, the radio still playing in the background, a contrast to the raw, primal scene unfolding.

Natasha's hand roamed over Y/N's body, gripping her hips, her tits, her throat, leaving no doubt who was in control. Y/N's body trembled, her breaths coming in short gasps, her body coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

"Natasha." she gasped, her body on the edge of an orgasm.

"I'm close."

Natasha's response was a low grunt, her pace quickening, her hand slamming into Y/N's with a ferocity that left them both breathless.

"Cum for me." She demanded, her voice a low rasp. She leaned over Y/N’s back, lips lingering next to her ear.

"Let me hear you." She whispered.

Y/N's body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her body convulsing as she cried out Natasha's name.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, before Natasha pulled out. She helped Y/N up, pulling her into a tight embrace, their bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of their passion.

"Fuck, that was hot.” Natasha murmured, her voice a low rumble against Y/N's ear.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her body boneless in Natasha's arms.

"You can say that again." she whispered, a smug smile playing on her lips.

“You still up for that coffee?” Natasha asked, leading them both to chuckle lightly.