Roter Sputnik

she hums, finally reaching your dripping slit, “where are your manners?”

a shaky moan slips out of your lips when her middle and ring finger finally graze your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, your pace growing more frantic.

you lift your hips to sink down on them, but they keep slightly slipping to either side. your brows furrow in frustration at your repeated attempts, believing it to be due to your trembling or how wet and slippery you were, until you briefly catch a small smirk tugging at toph’s lips.

“toph!” you whine, nails digging into her thigh, “what the hell are you doing!?”

“nothing,” she whistles, coaxing another moan out of you when long fingers part your puffy lips open, feeling you clench around nothing. “i just think you could be more polite.”

“toph, are you serious right n—”

“never been more serious.” she cuts you off with a mocking peck to your cheek, her other hand still squeezing the fat of your tit. “go on. be good, baby. say please.”

you scoff, torn between anger and arousal, “i fucking hate you, you’re so— no no no!” you cry out, quickly grabbing her wrist when she begins to pull away.

“doesn’t sound like begging to me.”

“you— i’m gonna— ugh!” you groan loudly, trying to pull her hand back to you but it refuses to budge an inch, “why are you so— just— ugh… p-please.”

she smirks, and you hate how it gets you wetter.

“aw, there we go. such a good girl.” she coos, tauntingly patting the entirety of your pussy. the embarrassment doesn’t get to settle fully before all your thoughts are flung out of your head, a startled moan leaving your lips when she firmly flicks your clit, following it immediately with toe-curling rubs.

your eyes roll back, feeling two of her thick digits finally prod at your entrance, stretching your gummy walls as she scissors you open.

you mewl, desperately riding her hand and thigh all while her thumb deliciously presses and circles around your puffy bud.

“what the fuck,” you hear her sputter, but you’re honestly far too gone to care about what caught her attention, eyes squeezed shut as your hips roll and snap with incredible rhythm.

your eyes are forced open in surprise though, her previously busy hand leaving your breast to roughly grip your jaw. you stare at her, confused and kind of hornier at whatever the gleam in her eyes meant.

she lets out a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “fucking hell, you’re even pierced here?”

huh?

oh.

oh!

you blush, feeling her thumb fiddle with the metal above your clit, “well.. yeah.”

“and literally why would you do that?” she gives it another tap, “does it give you extra pleasure?”

“well, no.” you state matter-of-factly, slowing down your erratic finger-riding to educate her, “christina piercings are ornamental, so it doesn’t touch my clit or anything.”

she scoffs, her gaze almost demeaning, “then why?”

you hum, and she feels you spasm around her fingers. “ ‘cause it’s hot. and people’s reactions to it also turn me on.. but yours could use a little work.”

“i’m sure you slept with your piercer right after, you whore.” she spits out, to which you huff, “you’re just jealous, bitch. unlike you, i’m not some sex-crazed slut who fucks anybody who speaks to me.”

she laughs and you can hear the cockiness dripping off each of the syllables, “oh, clearly. not desperate at all, fucking the leg of a girl you met a few hours ago.”

your eye twitches and before you can argue back, svelte fingers finally plunge into your velvety walls, your garbled sounds music to her ears. she smiles filthily, “yeah, that’s right, just shut up and moan like the horny whore you are. you being angry only makes you tighter for me.”

you’d love to snap back at her, you really would. but unfortunately that would have to wait because oh my god, her fingers and disgusting mouth alone had you closer to cumming than most of your previous partners ever did.

your mouth crashes back on hers again, drool leaking out of your lips that she eagerly licks up and swallows, heavy tongue entwined with yours as your sopping cunt sucks her in like quicksand.

“mmh, take off,” you mumble dazedly between kisses, panting against her cheek. you tug at the material of her pants, “o-off, please.”

she chuckles, gaze heated, “so polite.”

her fingers continue pounding your needy pussy, her other hand coming to tug at her waistband, and you practically clench at her exposed v-line, defined like an arrow pointing to your gradually appearing prize.

your impatient hands join her useless one, pulling harder at the material and she laughs, lifting her hips to indulge you and you waste no time in discarding the fabric.

“ugh, this is uncomfortable.” she shifts, her sweat-slick thighs sticking to the chair, “need a bigger surface.”

her big hand supports your back, pulling you flush against her and you wrap your arms around her neck immediately. her other one leaves your poor, aching slit, but the promise of what’s to come makes the wait worth it as she stands up, hiking your thighs up to loop around her naked waist.

“guide me,” she murmurs, and the command is so oddly intimate your breath slightly hitches. you nod, flustered, whispering the directions into her ear.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

she drops you down on the bed with a small “oof”, and her fingers lazily hook around the sides of her panties, sliding them off so tauntingly you whimper at the sight.

she only grins, crawling over you to pry your legs open, “like what you see?”

your skirt is easily ripped in a quick move you can’t even begin to comprehend, and you whine as she busies herself between your thighs, “tophh! that skirt cost me an arm and a leg, you could have just taken it off!”

she ignores you, repeating the same thing to your damp panties, “it’s like four inches of fabric. i’ll pay you back the three dollars, jingle bells.”

you groan, “you know nothing about fashion! you just— mngh!” a dirty moan leaves your lips and so does any concern over your clothes, her fingers slipping back into you so naturally like your pussy was home.

“you’re right, i know nothing about fashion. kinda hard to when you’re blind,” she crosses your plush thigh over hers, stretching you out a little more just to hear the filthy squelch, “what i do know, though, is how to fuck a whiny ass girl like you.”

that strikes a nerve again. but your protests, once more, die on the tip of your tongue when you feel her folds smush against yours, her fingers giving way to her warm, slick pussy rutting up feverishly against your own.

you make no effort to be quiet, loudly mewling at the delicious bumping of your clits together, the grunts and moans it earns from her only heightening your arousal.

“fuck,” her voice breaks into a shaky whine, her fingers tightening around your waist as her pace increases, “fuck! so good, you’re so good. your pussy’s so sweet, so perfect. oh, so fucking good. i’m sure it must look so pretty, all soaked and dripping with my wetness and yours.”

you didn’t expect toph to be so.. vocal. taunts and degrading jokes, you expected, but this weirdly adorable display of her desperation came as a not so unwelcome shock.

if anything, the duality only served to tighten the big knot in your lower abdomen.

her voice may crack and her praise may be sweet as syrup, but the way she was fucking you was anything but.

you never knew how flexible you were until today, her hands easily manhandling you into different positions to ensure every inch of your pussy was thoroughly soaked with her slick, your hamstrings threatening to snap at the pressure of her strong palms against the back of your thighs, stretching your legs open into the worst of splits.

“mmph— tophh.. g—gonna cummmm..” you drawled, eyes rolled so far back, saliva trickling down the side of your cheek as you let her scissor you in whichever way she wanted.

the pad of her thumb would occasionally join in to add to the pressure of your swollen clit against hers, and it would send sparks of pleasure up your spine, all of it pooling deep into your gut and threatening to spill over.

“i know. i know you will,” she groans, one hand pinning your thigh to your torso while the other found your pierced nipple to roll and pinch, her rhythm unrelenting.

“come for me,” two fingers slide between where you two were joined, effortlessly sinking into your overly wet cunt, curling against your spongy spot with terrifying precision that leaves your thighs spasming and your breath knocked out of your lungs, “now.”

you don’t keep her waiting, your vision flashing white as thick gushes of cum spray over her swollen pussy. she uses the extra slick to fuck you faster, chasing her own release, your folds sticking together in a mess of arousal and slight sweat, the hot smell of sex filling the room.

when she cums soon after you, you already feel heat pooling in your stomach again at the sight of her so wrecked and spent on top of you.

her tank top had long since joined the pile of torn clothes on the floor, your eyes travelling up her bulging abs to set on her heaving, sweaty chest, pebbled nipples resting on the swells of well-toned breasts.

you made a note to ask her if she was an athlete later.

you were both panting, neither of you moving off each other yet, and you let your hands slowly slide up her abdomen to her tits. you give them a tentative squeeze, cupping the soft flesh, looking at her face to gauge her reaction.

when no refusal was uttered, your thumbs found the peaked buds, gently swiping over them to hear her breath hitch. “beautiful,” you whisper lowly, splaying your hands to fully grab them, “you’re very beautiful, toph.”

“really?” the question is just as gentle as your praise, milky eyes half lidded and set on some spot next to your ear.

“yes,” you answer without delay, one of your hands finding its way to her hair to pull her closer to you. with her chest more lowered now, you press a soft kiss to the top of her right breast, “very beautiful.”

for once, toph didn’t feel like ruining the moment with her snarkiness. she simply stayed quiet, indulging you a bit more before finally untangling your limbs and laying by your side.

she rolls over on her back, folding her flexed arms behind her head. “that was great.”

“yeah,” you turn on your side, your back facing her. “you’re good.”

“just good?” you hear the rustling of sheets behind you, then a hand soon finds the curve of your hip. “i deserve better than that, i think.”

you bite back a smile, nuzzling your pillow, “yeah yeah. you’re really good.”

“oh come on,” she shakes you by the hip, scooting closer until you feel her pout against your nape. “be honest, am i not the best sex you’ve ever had?”

the claim isn’t ridiculous, but the last thing you want to do right now is stroke her ego. you hum pensively before shrugging, “.. eh. i’ve had better.”

“you’re lying,” she barks, giving your thigh a light smack. “i can sense it.”

you sigh dramatically, rubbing the spanked spot, “jeez, toph. it’s okay! you don’t have to best for everyone. i’m sure many people think you’re the best sex they’ve ever had. don’t take it personally, it’s just a matter of preference.”

“stop lying!” she groans and you giggle, another smack landing on your ass this time. “admit it! say i’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

you sigh again, shaking your head, “is your ego that fragile, toph? that it hangs on being someone’s best fuck? that’s a little pathetic, even for you.”

you tense in preparation for the coming spank, and then burst into laughter when it predictably arrives. she scoffs, “you’re very tickled for someone who was humping my leg like a cheap whore earlier.”

and that wipes the smile clean off your face.

you blush, rolling over to face her with a matching pout, “shut up, don’t bring that up.”

she grins, “ ‘oh, toph! please, more! give it to me, tophh! ahhh!’” you whine loudly, pushing her face off yours as she delightfully mocks your sex noises, increasing them in pitch. “fuck off! you were just as loud!”

“as loud as you?” she laughs, taking your hand off her face to smirk all up in your face, “please, i could barely hear myself over your screams and your fucking jewelry’s banging.”

you flush a deeper shade of red, “stop ittt!”

“see?” she pokes your nose, the biggest of smiles tugging at her mouth. “even outside of sex, you’re so fucking noisy.”

you huff and roll over again, refusing to face her as your hand reaches for the sheets to cover yourself. “whatever. good night.”

“but it’s not even night.”

you pinch your nose bridge, squeezing your eyes shut, “did i seriously just sleep with you?”

she chuckles, patting your hip, “and you loved every second of it. here’s to a good friendship,” she cups your face, tilting it back her way to press a kiss to your lips, “nice to meet you.”

you blink, very slowly. “.. nice to meet you too.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

your banter eventually melted into an oddly pleasant conversation you couldn’t believe you were having with such an annoying woman. you asked each other questions, gradually finding out stuff about yourselves, which was always a nice bonding activity after scissoring a stranger!

you found out she was indeed an athlete; and a wrestler at that. it did make a lot of sense, since most of the other sports required some level of sight, while wrestling — she stated — was more hands-on and physical, hence why she excelled at it.

she even invited you to come watch sometime, to which you obviously agreed, very curious on how she fought. wasn’t her blindness still a big handicap? wasn’t it still much harder for her to predict her opponent’s moves? you were aching to see it all for yourself.

you also found out she uses a white cane, that she somehow forgot in the bus after your outburst.

“how the hell do you forget that?” you frowned, puzzled.

she shrugged, “after that scene you caused, i wanted to catch you before you disappeared, so i kind of rushed and forgot it. i had it under the seat by my feet, so i didn’t feel it.”

you huffed, “that cane is literally how you see, you can’t be that dumb.”

“it’s because i don’t use it that much,” she continued, and that piqued your attention. “i suppose it’s because i fight without it, so i also learnt to do more stuff without it from there on. i can get around my neighborhood just fine since i remember all the roads here, so i basically only use it when i go out somewhere else i’m not familiar with.”

“oh,” you nodded understandingly, then looked down. “well.. i’m sorry for making you forget it, i guess it’s kind of my fault. so allow me to pay you back for it, yeah?”

“awww, such a sweetheart. that’s so kind and generous of you. truly.” she coos, pinching your cheek.

“nevermind, i hope you fall over.”

your gaze flitted to the window, noticing the now starry dark sky. you quickly sat up, eyes widening when you saw the clock on the wall read eight pm.

you’d been talking for almost five hours?

“oh god, it’s so late. and we haven’t even showered yet, ew.” you grimace, getting off the bed to limp towards your bathroom.

she chuckles, smelling herself, “yeah, we reek.”

“you get happy about very fucking weird stuff, toph.”

after a much needed shower, you ended up suggesting for her to stay the night, finding it to be the safer option since she didn’t have her cane. to which she eagerly acquiesced, though for way less innocent motives than yours.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

as the days went by, you two proved to be a much better match than expected. she’d quickly become one of your closest friends, often crashing at each other’s places to either spill tea or get drunk — and the latter often ended in tainted sheets and melted makeup.

your ankle had gotten better too, and you could finally go back to wearing your cherished heels.

toph had just asked you to wait for her outside this shop, she told you she’d be quick and you didn’t need to follow her in, so there you were; leaning against a nearby lamp post as you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone.

after a few minutes, you were snapped out of your doomscrolling by someone poking your shoulder. you lifted your head, only for an incredibly hot woman to meet your gaze. you immediately straightened up, patting your skirt down to look more presentable.

shit, you didn’t like being caught off guard by a hot woman hitting on you.

“sorry for disturbing you,” she starts, and her voice has that low distinct rasp, just like toph’s, that never fails to make your stomach flip. she smiles, leaning down to your height, “i just wanted to tell you you’re very beautiful, you look unreal.”

“oh,” you smile back, sweet yet purposeful, “you’re too kind, thank you. you’re quite attractive yourself.”

you didn’t break eye contact, and the implied message was clear as day.

“a pretty girl like you must be taken,” she looks at the shop you’re waiting in front of, then back at you. “waiting for your partner?”

“oh, no no,” you wave your hand dismissively, stepping more into her space. “i’m just waiting for my friend. i don’t have a girlfriend.”

her smile widens, emboldened by your confirmation and your body language. her hand finds your chin, thumb swiping across your pierced lip, “i see. and do you think there’s any chance my friend over there could get your number?”

she points at some empty spot over her shoulder, and you chuckle, leaning into her touch. “totally. i think your friend’s pretty cute.”

“sweet,” she fiddles with the labret, and your glossy lips playfully pucker up to peck her finger. you notice the flicker in her expression, and of course, you know exactly what you’re doing.

she clears her throat, flustered, letting go of you to fish out her phone.

you smile and take it, long nails tapping against the screen, when a very familiar hand suddenly lands on your ass with a soft smack, giving it a rough squeeze right after.

you’d tensed for a second before groaning, resuming your typing, “tophiee, i told you to stop doing that in public. i keep thinking it’s a creep.”

“my bad,” her arm slides up to hang low around your waist, face scrunching in confusion when she senses the person in front of her. “who is this? are they bothering you?”

“not at all,” you chuckle, putting in the last digits. “she just asked for my info. she’s real smooth with it, i gotta tell you.”

“... huh. interesting.” you don’t pay attention to her grip tightening around your hip in warning, until the phone is abruptly snatched out of your hands the moment you were about to press ‘save contact’.

“sorry buddy,” she deletes the number, sightless eyes set with insane accuracy on the baffled girl in front of you. she tosses the phone at her, making her scramble to catch it in a panic, “she doesn’t have a number.”

you’re just as dumbfounded as the poor girl, who breaks the silence first. “but she was just typi—”

“chop chop.” toph cuts her off, snapping her fingers. “mhm. sorry, no can do. better luck next time. a shame, really. bye.”

you scoff at her, brows raised in shock and anger, “toph? what the fuck do you think you’re—”

“be quiet,” she glares down at you, and it’s deadly. “i’ll get to you later.”

you can’t find any hint of her usual sarcasm or her playful teasing — just a terrifying pair of teal eyes freezing you into place.

it effectively shuts you up, so she focuses back on the very unlucky soul who had the sole misfortune of crossing paths with you today. “what? just leave already.”

her eyes dart in confusion between you and toph, and you can only shamefully look down, giving her a small apologetic wave to end this humiliating interaction sooner. this was so fucking embarrassing.

“what the fuck??” is the last thing you hear from her as she walks away, and you’re genuinely just as confused as her.

when she leaves, you finally glare up at toph properly, pretty features twisted into a frustrated frown. “now, do you wanna explain whatever the hell just— ah!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence before a calloused hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you off with steps as angry as the thudding of her cane against the ground.

you stumble behind her, trying not to trip over your heels at her brisk pace. “t-toph!” you call out to her but she doesn’t answer, and you can only watch her dark hair whip in the air, a hint of fear mixing with your anger.

“toph, where are we g—”

“my place,” she cuts you off, her steps growing faster. “i forgot something.”

your brow raises, questioning. “that’s it? then why the fuck did you interfere with the girl getting my n— oof!”

she stops abruptly and your forehead bumps against her back. you rub it soothingly, “geez, toph. what’s—”

“did you want her to be your girlfriend?” she turns to face you, so close you felt her hot breath hit your cheek. “do you see yourself dating that woman?”

you blink, then you scoff, incredulous. “what? i don’t know, i just met her. i’m not really looking for a serious relationship so—”

“then what?” she spits it like venom and you flinch back. she glares deep into your eyes, “what were you being so sweet and giggly for? for sex? do i not fuck you good enough?”

you stammer, heat creeping up your cheeks. “w-what the fuck, toph?? what does that have to do with—”

“nobody can fuck you better than i do.” she doesn’t let up, invading your space further when you try to step back. “nobody, and certainly not that whore.”

okay, okay. what the hell was going on? perplexed wasn’t good enough a word to even begin to describe how utterly lost you were.

“toph, what the fuck is wrong with you today?” you manage to spit back, returning her glare. “who do you think you are, deciding who can or can’t get my number?”

“i just think it’s stupid of you to pursue sex with someone else when i’m right here.”

you throw your arms up in the air, exasperated, “what?? toph, me sleeping with you doesn’t make you entitled to mess with my love or sex life. with the way you’re speaking, it’s almost like you want me to be your girlfrien—”

“fuck no,” she barks, too quickly, brows furrowing in disgust. “not at all. i just don’t get the point.”

“and you don’t have to get it! you can just fucking suck it up.” you snap, and you immediately regret it with the way her gaze goes cold.

you let out a shaky sigh, trying to rein yourself in. “toph, what i’m trying to say is—”

“stop talking.” her grip tightens around your wrist, and the next thing you know is that you’re being pulled again, too focused on not falling over to argue back.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

you’re both panting when you get to her apartment, and while she fumbles with the key, you take the small opportunity to resume your lecture. “seriously toph, you had no right to butt in. that girl could have possibly been a great match for me. what if i did want her to eventually become my girlfriend?”

“you just said you weren’t looking,” she scoffs, the key repeatedly missing the hole.

you roll your eyes, “that’s not the point. you still can’t butt in, you never know what the future holds. it’s my life, toph.”

the door opens with a click, and it’s instantly shoved open as she barges in, her fingers around your wrist like a cuff.

you sigh, “like i said, you can’t just— mmph!” you’re interrupted by a brutal kiss, all teeth, the force of it making you stagger back until your back hits the wall.

the cane hits the floor and her hands feel you up in a frenzy, mapping out every inch of exposed skin as she sucks the very oxygen out of your lungs.

“it’s because you dress like that,” she pants against your lips between heated kisses. “you’re just begging for attention.”

she swallows the angry protests bubbling up in your throat, her tongue swiping over your palate and teeth and everything in between, and you hate that you can’t help but moan into her mouth.

“these bare legs,” she runs her hands up the back of your thighs, ditching your lips to press wet kisses on your neck, “too exposed. that’s why they hit on you.”

and once again, right when your face scrunched up in irritation, she quashes down any objections by trailing her hand up to your clothed cunt, possessively cupping it.

you uselessly mewl, heat pooling in your gut as you grind on her hand before she swiftly picks you up, taking you to her room.

how were you expected to conjure up any proper argument when this unfairly hot woman was already positioning you to her liking, wordlessly pushing your face into the pillows and adjusting the arch of your back?

“wait right here,” she whispers raspily into your ear, patting your waist to excuse herself, leaving you bent and exposed.

you huff into the pillows. what could you possibly do other than ‘wait here’?

this was ridiculous, you thought to yourself. all your arguments ended like this — unfinished, with your pussy full. you knew better than to keep letting her get away with this, thinking she can win you over by simply fucking you into oblivion and never addressing these accumulating issues.

you will stand your ground.

the bed dips under her weight, and you let out a soft moan when her hands return to your hips, lifting your skirt up.

you will stand your ground, tomorrow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

sex with toph was always mind-blowing. but this time — on your great grandmother’s grave — you swore you felt your tailbone crack.

“t—toph!! oh my fucking— tophhh!!” you uselessly cry out, leaving sweat-damp marks on the sheets you were clinging to for dear life.

“take it,” her fingers are so tight around your hips you knew they’d bruise the next day.

she hikes them up even higher, earning a pained scream from you that quickly morphs into a pleasured string of moans, the tip of her strap striking your g-spot like a dart to a bullseye.

she leans down to take your ear between her teeth, her pounding relentless. “you’ll take it, my stupid whore. maybe this’ll remind you who this greedy pussy belongs to.”

you’d always hated claims of ownership. they irked you out to no end, and not only did you find them demeaning, they also never failed to make you feel so trapped and helpless.

but right now? with tears and drool soaking your pillows, you wanted nothing but to be thoroughly owned by her.

you don’t feel the words slip out of your mouth until they do, “y—yours. it’s all yours.”

her hips stutter for a second before she moans, loudly. her hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, appreciating the ripple and your startled gasp, “say it again.” it’s almost desperate, with the way she pants against your damp nape, “say it.”

you swallow your pooling saliva, “i—it belongs to you, toph.”

“does anybody else fuck you like this?” she spits against your ear with punishing thrusts against your abused walls.

you shake your head, sniffling, “n-no. nobody. mngh!”

her head had left its spot behind your nape, lifting herself up to spread your cheeks wider, and she wished she could see your creamy slick coating the pumping toy.

the wet squelches of your cunt were an auditory tease that made her yearn for sight more than anything else in the world.

with the next rough thrusts, and her hand sliding down to rub circles on your neglected clit, your eyes cross and roll back as you gush all over her strap.

her furious pounding calms down, the rocking of her hips more gentle while your orgasm sends pleasant tingles to the ends of your limbs.

you slowly relax, blissed out, letting yourself enjoy the sweet thrusts to ride out your high.

then a startled squeal escapes your lips, eyes blowing wide open when the sting registers.

did she just—

“ah!” you yelp again, flushing with need and embarrassment at the realization. she was biting your ass!

“shh,” she fondles the fat of your plump backside, alternating between right and left as she bites down on it, leaving angry red marks in her wake. “need to mark you.”

she slips out of you with a filthy pop, casually fingering some of your own cum back into you, then her sticky hands are on your hips again.

you feel the brush of her hair as her kisses and bites descend further down the back of your thighs, littering the canvas of your soft skin with twin markings on each side.

“toph..” you swallow a whimper when she goes back up, coaxing your legs further apart to get to your inner thighs as well, repeating the same process.

she stops at your still spasming pussy, then presses a long, deceptively sweet kiss to your sensitive folds before spitting on them. and your knees immediately give out.

she smiles, pulling back as if to look at your entire spent form. her fingers brush over the dented traces of her teeth on your ass, and she sighs softly, pleased. “now, they’ll know.”

who were “they”? know what? you had no energy left in you to ask, so you only laid limp on her bed, eyes fluttering shut. you felt her weight leave the bed as she walked away, the toy hitting the ground with a wet thud.

awful, awful cramps set in the next morning, dull painful throbbing from all your bones and muscles, and you couldn’t walk for six days.

and while you didn’t want to doubt toph’s goodness since she did stay by your side this whole week, helping you out and pampering you until the pain subsided, you almost felt like she reveled in your inability to leave the house.

or maybe not. maybe she just happened to be very happy to spend time with you.

after all, a friend wouldn’t be that cruel, right?

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Natasha was already awake when she heard the soft padding of your feet, crossing the landing and passing their bedroom door. She put down her book quietly, careful not to rouse Wanda before her Sunday alarm, then tiptoed out of the room to find you. 

You had already descended the stairs by the time she closed the door behind her. So she followed slowly, not wanting to startle you at this early hour.

Natasha gave a cursory look around the ground floor, but was unsurprised to only see Mayakovsky, lying by the patio door with his eyes closed and tail lightly flicking. She had fed him already, then slipped back into bed to read. Sundays were her slow days, and while she tried to enjoy them, she wasn’t upset to have been drawn out by another early bird. 

Descending again, she reached the basement floor, where she spotted movement in the utility room. There you were: crouching in front of the washing machine and pushing a bundle of sheets into the drum with your one hand. You rocked a little on your tiptoes with the movement, like a little rabbit getting ready to leap. 

Natasha carefully drew closer, watching you stand up, close the door, then look in the cupboard. You found a detergent and poured it in the drawer, then replaced it back in the cupboard. Then your fingers hovered, selecting another bottle. You opened the lid and lifted it up to your nose, breathing in the scent. She could see just enough of your profile to spot your lips lifting into a contented smile. 

Natasha recognised the fabric conditioner as the one Wanda liked to use on her clothes. The realisation made her heart ache a little, as she watched you pout it in the drawer, return it to its place, then start the cycle. 

Then you turned, and Natasha didn’t have to plan the smile she gave you. It just broke out when she saw how you lit up at the sight of her. Your genuine delight to see her tugged at Natasha’s lips and made her return your smile with such warmth that even her own cheeks felt aglow.

Natasha recruited you to help with breakfast, and couldn’t help but continue smiling at the way you listened to her instructions with such avid attention. Something about you seemed extra endearing to her today — though perhaps she was still on the post-sex high. Yes, Natasha thought, as she noticed your tongue sticking out slightly as you focussed on mixing the batter and felt her feelings fizzle, that must be it. She ought to be careful today: careful not to cross any lines — or let Wanda run away with her desires. After three days of barely touching, they had both been a little feral yesterday. It was lucky you hadn’t noticed, lucky you hadn’t put the pieces together. 

Or maybe not lucky — maybe it was just your nature. 

Pilates and laundry day. What a sweet, naive little girl you truly were. 

Natasha caught herself with a frown. 

Exactly that, she thought, kicking herself internally. That’s exactly the sort of thought you shouldn’t be having.

Feral was certainly the word. And if Natasha felt like that, then Wanda must surely be feeling even less contained. 

It didn’t take long for her theory to be proven true. Wanda walked in while you were mixing, and immediately gravitated to you and wrapped her arm around your back. Natasha could see her wife’s almost dreamlike smile. She was definitely still on a high. No wonder, really, given the orgasms Natasha had pulled out from her yesterday. They hadn’t had sex quite that charged in a while. It had been electric. And it seemed to sizzle still.

Wanda moved away to set the table before Natasha felt obliged to intervene. So she walked over to you and handed over a ladle, entrusting you with the job of making the first blini. You seemed nervous, and she reassured you. That triggered a conversation, with you sharing a memory, then asking about her own. 

It surprised Natasha that she didn’t immediately shut down when you asked about her childhood. Usually it was a topic which she avoided at all costs, employing a range of tactics to evade. Wanda was the only person, beyond the people who experienced it with her, who knew. The pain was very private, difficult to explain and share. But somehow, she found that she wanted to answer you, wanted to bestow the same trust and fragility in you, which you so sweetly offered to them.

So she told you a little; how she and Yelena had moved first to the States, then back to their homeland. How young they had been. 

Then her throat closed up, and she was glad that you didn’t ask any more, and glad that Wanda stepped in to support you with the blini. It gave Natasha a moment to turn away, a moment to compose herself and bury the memories once more. 

She cared about you enough to offer a glimpse. That meant something. Even if she had to close up the shutters and lock them tightly after that brief release. 

Natasha took some deep breaths, staring down at the dining table and straightening the utensils to be perfectly parallel. 

Then you swept past, and her brain caught up just enough to process the words she had heard in the background before you moved to leave.

She watched you go, trying to interpret the look she had seen on your face as you passed her and accidentally caught her eye. Once you had disappeared down the stairs, Natasha turned to her wife.

“What happened?”

The guilty look on Wanda’s face was enough to cement her suspicions, but she waited for the explanation all the same. 

“I’m not sure… I was touching her waist. Nothing inappropriate — she just got flustered, I think.”

“Wanda…” 

“I know, I know. I’ll calm it down, my love. I promise.” 

“You’d better,” Natasha growled, stepping in and trying not to smile, “or I’ll have to think of a more… effective lesson.”

Wanda’s face flooded with colour and she let out a little moan as Natasha grabbed her by the hips, manoeuvred her around and then pinned her against the kitchen island. 

“You’re playing with fire,” Natasha whispered directly into Wanda’s ear.

“I know,” Wanda replied, throwing her head back and allowing her hair to dangle and shine in the morning light. Natasha stared at the pale, enticing skin of Wanda’s neck, and swallowed down the desire to mark it with her teeth.

Instead, she did the only thing which always proved effective in managing her wife’s impulsive behaviour. She stepped away, and smirked when she heard Wanda’s disappointed moan. 

“Behave,” Natasha intoned, before turning around and taking over at the stove. 

It took a few moments before Wanda’s breathing calmed down behind her; those long shaky breaths were audible to Natasha’s keen ears, even amongst the sounds of the kitchen.. Natasha’s heart was still beating fast too, but she’d trained for years to conceal how she felt inside. It came in handy sometimes. Not that it was in any way worth what the honing of those skills had cost. 

She lost herself in making blini after blini for a while, seeking the perfect circle and the most golden colour. A stack gathered on a plate beside the pan, and Natasha lost track of how long it took before you returned. When she heard your shuffling footsteps, it was like Wanda had read her mind; she directed you to sit, just as Natasha had been thinking to instruct. Then Wanda swapped the filled plate for another, giving her wife a quick kiss of greeting. Natasha smirked at the pan, knowing this was Wanda’s attempt to make her forget their little disagreement before. They knew each other so well — too well to get anything past each other. 

Breakfast went by with many caring interventions from Wanda, none of which quite crossed the line to deserve a look from her wife. There was plausible deniability for all of it: you truly couldn’t manage to cut your food up with one hand, and it was tricky to reach things on your right side. The help was warranted, certainly. But the comment Natasha heard when she went to get the second plate from the oven… that was pushing it. Even if you couldn’t sense the undertones, Natasha certainly understood what Wanda was insinuating. Messy, indeed.

When Natasha returned to the table, she gave Wanda a single, meaningful look, letting her know that the comment had been heard. Both you and Wanda seemed to avoid each other’s gazes from that point, making Natasha wonder whether you had perhaps noticed something, after all. So she tried to distract from it, talking about the day to come, and enthusiastically adding toppings to her next helping. Slowly, you brightened, and by the time everyone had finished eating, you seemed your usual buoyant self: eagerly helping to clear the table, and smiling happily between them. 

Natasha started loading the dishwasher while Wanda took you up the stairs to get changed. She hoped nothing more would happen. Hopefully the threat in the kitchen, and the look at the table, had been enough to quell Wanda’s thrill-seeking. 

You seemed lucid enough when you came back downstairs and joined Natasha on the sofa. Wanda poked her head in a few minutes later and bid the two of you goodbye with a mere wave and a smile — far more appropriate. Overall, things seemed to be improving. You seemed more settled, and Wanda was slowly becoming more responsive to reminders about her decorum. 

It was all going so well. Natasha played a video game, while you curled up in the opposite corner of the sofa, scrolling on your phone and then tapping away at the screen, seemingly messaging someone. Possibly your new friend?

The washing machine beeped, and you sprang up. Natasha offered to help, but didn’t push when you declined. It was important that you had some freedom and independence. Especially when your injury — and sometimes Wanda’s approach — limited your options in that realm. 

In her periphery, Natasha could see you placing down a basket, then crouching down at the washing machine and opening the door. You kept moving as expected, pulling stuff out the machine — when suddenly all movement stopped. Natasha paused her game and turned her head a few degrees, so she could see you more clearly, without staring front on. 

You seemed frozen, staring at the basket. Then the freeze began to thaw into a tremble — and Natasha knew that something was wrong, even before you stood up and began to run. Her instincts were so jumbled — should she call after you? Follow? Wait?

She was beginning to notice that your feelings seemed to bring out her own in a terrifying, uncontrolled way. The slightest hint of your panic registered in her chest, like a mirror. And she seemed to lose herself and any sense of what to do when you were like this.

Wanda always knew what to do to help in the moment. But Wanda always lived in the moment, never thinking about consequences. Natasha couldn’t let go of strategising and weighing up odds. It was her automatic nature, and usually felt so easy. But with you? She just couldn’t predict it; she couldn’t see the future with any clarity at all.

It scared her. 

At a loss of what to do, she resorted to basics. 

When in doubt, assess. Take stock. 

She stood up, and walked over to the washing machine. Something there had spooked you, had made you run away. What on earth could it be? A spider? A stain?

Natasha carefully lifted layers of fabric until she felt something strange between her fingers. Something heavy, furry, and soaking wet. She unearthed it and stared at the dark grey, dripping object. It had long floppy ears, glassy black eyes and a black stitched nose and smile. A little rabbit. No doubt this was the cause of your upset: an unexpected stowaway, not meant for the washing machine. 

Natasha stood up, still staring at the soft toy. For a few seconds, she felt a flickering in her brain as the memory fought to resurface. 

Ohio. 

Yelena. 

A pink pony.

Natasha’s legs began to wobble, and she slid to the floor before she could fall. 

She remembered now, how Yelena had run to grab the toy before they left in such a hurry. Eleven year-old Natasha — older, harder — had grabbed a photo. But little Yela had grasped onto that pink stuffed creature, just as tightly as Natasha clung to her sister, trying to protect her from the world. 

What became of that pony? Was she ripped away from Yelena, just as the two of them were ripped apart that day?

Something wet trickled down Natasha’s cheek. 

Wanda would tell her that it wasn’t weak to feel. 

Feelings hurt, though.

Natasha allowed herself a minute to cry. She timed it, counting out the seconds in her head and keeping note of the four tears which trickled down in that time. Enough.

She stood up, holding the rabbit in one hand as she found a dry towel to swaddle it in. Then she moved back to the sofa, picked her phone up off the coffee table, and began to investigate. 

How to dry a stuffed toy after washing.

Of all the things in her search history, this had to be the biggest, oddest outlier. 

She read through various pages and discussion threads, absorbing information like a sponge. Then she followed the most reliable instructions: pressing out the water with paper towels, trying not to twist or squeeze too much. She worked on one bit at a time, starting with the ears, which were lined with a pretty blue floral fabric. Then she worked on the head, which seemed terribly fragile, wobbling on the body as if the washing machine had broken its neck. The head took a while to do safely. Then the arms, and the legs, and the squishy tummy and fluffy tail. It took a lot of paper towels, which gathered in a mound of moisture on the table. Then she used the soft hand towel, repeating the same process. After that came the hairdryer, blowing from a few inches away, on the lowest setting.

She wondered, all the while, how you must be feeling upstairs all alone. Were you crying? Sleeping? Curled up in a hopeless ball?

There was no point going up to see you, not until she had resolved it. What comfort could she give if your rabbit was ruined? Just say sorry? Surely that wouldn’t be enough. Would it be appropriate, in that situation, to offer to buy another? Or would that be offensive somehow, suggesting it was replaceable?

No; better that I am here, Natasha thought. This I can do. 

Natasha’s capacity for precision and patience paid off at this point; it was a long process. She wouldn’t be doing it for just anyone, or anything. But it was clear how much the rabbit meant to you. And as she dried it, she realised quietly that this must mean that you meant quite a lot to her already too.

“Hello!”

Natasha turned to find Wanda, her smile slowly shifting to confusion and then concern as she took in the scene. Natasha, alone, drying a stuffed toy. 

“She put her sheets on to wash this morning,” Natasha explained, “and when she took them out… well, she was very upset. She ran upstairs, and I found this in the basket.” 

“Oh dear,” Wanda sighed, her face crumpling. “Poor thing.”

Natasha merely nodded, then turned back to the hairdryer, continuing with her mission.

“Have you been up to see her?” Wanda asked, making Natasha turn back.

“No. I’ve been trying to dry the rabbit.”

Wanda looked a little exasperated, which surprised her. 

“What?”

“How long has she been up there, Nat?”

“I’m not sure… maybe an hour or so?” Natasha checked her watch. “Ah. Okay, almost two hours.”

“Oh my god… I love you, my darling — but you are so very Russian sometimes.”

“What is that supposed to…?”

“Never mind. I’ll go up, you carry on resurrecting the rabbit.”

“Right.” Natasha frowned. “Was I supposed to go up?”

Wanda laughed lightly, then approached and gave Natasha a kiss.

“Next time, yes,” she said, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Sympathy, then solutions, my love.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think, it will help motivate me to write more 🥹

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