#corpscs fics

You knew you had locked the door behind you when you left this morning. You even double checked it before walking off. Now hours later, you stared at the unlocked wooden door, anxiety creeping up your spine and filling out your chest. Possibility after possibility ran through your mind. Had you been robbed? Was someone lying in wait for you? One possibility lingered in the forefront of your thoughts- that it was her.

You took in a deep breath pushing the door open slowly. There was a light on. A light you distinctly remembered never turning on. You crossed into the space carefully, seeking for anything out of place. Nothing you noticed, except for a pair of boots neatly tucked against the wall. Her boots.

When you finally rounded the corner of the front foyer, there she was.

Natasha was seated at the empty table.

You stared at each other for moment of uncomfortable silence, varying emotions rushed through you all at once. Anger, frustration, longing, sadness… relief.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, voice quiet.

You thought your anger towards her had long dissipated. You hadn’t seen her for months. You had spent nearly every waking hour worrying about her whereabouts. Weeks over analyzing your entire relationship, wondering why you weren’t good enough for her to stay or reach out. Missing her presence while wondering if she was even alive.

“No hello?” She asked with soft laugh. She almost sounded nervous.

“There was no goodbye.” You crossed your arms across your chest. The self soothing tactic did little to nothing to calm your nerves. As angry as you were, you missed her so much the feeling left a near permanent ache in your chest.

Natasha took in a deep breath.

“Why are you here?” You asked her once more.

“You know why I’m here.”

You let out a hum of indifference.

“No, I don’t.” You still kept your voice calm.

You had eventually made peace with her disappearance. She’d been a fugitive. Leaving you with no warning, not even goodbye text at least.

“I’m-”

“Don’t.” You didn’t let her finish. You didn’t want to hear any apologies. She waited a moment before she spoke again and way she said your name almost cut through your resolve.

“Stop.” You shook your head. “Natasha, you need to leave.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” She confirmed.

“I’m not leaving, until we figure this out.”

“There is no we!” You explained. “There hasn’t been a we in months.”

“Please-”

“No.” Your eyes squeezed. “Get out. Please.”

“Detka…”

You breathed in through your nose, eyes starting to sting with tears.

“I need you to leave.” You continued to plead.

“But you don’t want me to.”

“Don’t twist my words, you know what I mean.”

“I won’t leave.” She shook her head.

“Well, you had no problem doing it before.” You shrugged.

The sarcasm was harsh and you hoped it cut deep. You watched the hand that rested on the table clench tightly into a fist, her chest expanding in a controlled breath.

“I had to go. It wasn’t safe.”

You felt your anger spike.

“Gee, thanks for leaving me where it was so unsafe.”

You crossed to the kitchen, defeated in the attempt to get her to leave. If she wanted to talk you would be honest.

“No.” She groaned in frustration, the fist was now pinching at her forehead. “I was on the run. It was unsafe for you to be around me. I only left to protect you.”

This time you did laugh. You could tell by the look on her face that Natasha was not amused. In fact her expression darkened as you laughed at her.

“I don’t care about whatever excuse you want to give me. It doesn’t change what happened.”

She bit down on her lips, looking like she was trying to control her emotions. You were so used to her concrete poker face, this was new.

“Please.” She begged.

“I can’t live without you.” Tears were gathering in her eyes. You shook your head, your own lips sealed tightly. If you even let your expression crack, you know that you would break down.

“You have been.” Your arms tightened across your chest.

Natasha huffed out a sharp laugh this time. She had not been living. Instead she spent months in isolation looking over her shoulder. Moving from place to place. Navigating multiple fake identities. Most of the time she found her thoughts on you- knowing you were safe in the space you both had once shared as a home. Each day away from you pulled more air from her lungs and crushed her heart.

“I was running!” She snapped. “But I was not running from you.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Bullshit. You know me better than that.”

“Nat, you left!” You nearly shouted. “You left me. You abandoned me here all alone with no warning! Never returned my calls- or texts! You couldn’t even care enough to send a fucking post card from wherever the fuck you were!”

You breathed in a few heavy gulps of air.

“So don’t you come back here with that “I can’t live without you” bullshit, because we both know that’s a lie.”

Natasha was out of her seat, pulling a handgun from the back of her waistband.

“What are you-”

“You think I’m lying?”

You stepped back a hair, lower back making contact with the counter behind you. You didn’t think your words were that harsh. Certainly not harsh enough to warrant a weapon. Except she didn’t raise it to you like you outlandishly thought. She clicked off the safety, loading the chamber and to your absolute horror- Natasha placed the barrel of the gun to her right temple.

“Natasha…” you said carefully, voice shaky with panic breaths.

“If you really think that…”

“Natasha, put that down.” You begged.

“I’ll pull the trigger right now.”

Her voice didn’t waiver. This finally cracked the dam of emotions you had been holding back. Tears sprang up into your eyes, breath hitching nervously.

“Stop it!”

“You think I can live without you, right?” Her voice raised. “You think I won’t do it?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, maybe to try and see if you could wipe the situation out of existence. Instead horrifying images of her pulling the trigger filled your mind. Her body falling to the floor, blood and brain matter painting the walls and cabinets of the place you once shared as a home. Your stomach lurched in disgust and when you opened your eyes again she was still holding the gun.

“No!” You shook out your head. “No! Stop it!”

Natasha lowered the weapon and you finally took a breath of relief. The restitution was short lived.

You watched in distress as she crossed into the kitchen. You stayed in place as she approached, still backed up against the counter. It didn’t matter what you did, she’d reach you no matter what way you turned to.

Natasha was fast to reach you, soon standing toe to toe. Before you could react she was shoving the gun into your hands and wrapping hers around your own. You felt your body recoil as she was pushing your finger to the trigger. You tried to fight off her hold while pulling your arm back, but the counter only restricted your movement. Her hand was securely gripped around yours, preventing you from letting go. The other hand placed itself on top of the barrel, steadying the weapon in place from your shaking hand.

She placed the barrel of the gun directly over her heart. The weapon shook rapidly in your shared grip from your nerves, which only made you more nervous in turn. By now you were fully crying, ugly sobs bubbling up out of your throat.

“Do it.” She urged.

You didn’t utter a word, only your ragged breathing was audible. It fanned across Natasha’s face, mingling with her own disturbingly calm paced breaths. Her face showed no inkling of deceit, expression collected and serious. The only hint of emotion came from the glassiness of her eyes. She called your name again.

“Pull. The fucking. Trigger.”

“No.” You sniffled, biting down on your wobbling lip.

“Why not?” She asked.

You let out a strangled laugh of frustration.

“I can’t!” You shouted.

“Yes you can.” She urged. “You wanted me gone.”

“Fuck! Natasha this is fucking crazy!” You tried to pry your hand out from under hers, but she was stronger.

“You need to- please- you’re being crazy!”

“Am I?”

Her placid demeanor only made you more upset. How could she be? With a loaded gun pressed to her chest and your shaking finger fighting hers to lift off the trigger. She was so calm, while you were barely able to keep yourself standing on your shaking knees.

“Yes! Yes!” You cried, tears still rolling down your cheeks. She shrugged a little, expression painted with a disbelieving nonchalant look.

“And I thought you didn’t want me here?”

You shook your head.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t live without me?”

You nodded before your head lolled forward in defeat, shoulders still shaking with each sob that ripped from your chest.

“I know.” Her voice was full of sympathy. “It’s okay, I know.”

Her hard grip on your hand loosened, immediately you were pulling your hand back and off the gun. Natasha’s hand on top of the weapon held it stable, while her other hand secured it and placed it on the counter behind you. With the offending object now gone from your sight, your body finally gave up. Your unstable stance crumbled, knees buckling and arms still trembling. Natasha was fast to embrace you, arms looping around you tucking your head into her shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, fearing that if you let go she may disappear on you again.

You cried into her arms, emotions you had bottled up for months finally breaking through. You missed her more than you wanted yourself to admit. You missed her presence. You missed her touch. You missed her smell. You missed her.

Your fingers gripped tighter onto her jacket as your thoughts tried to sort themselves out. You knew you didn’t want to continue to live without her, even after everything she’d put you through. You couldn’t do it. It caused you more pain and confusion that it took a gun to her head to realize how much she still meant to you.

Natasha’s hand soothed over your back as you cried while hushing you softly.

“Hey, hey, everything’s alright.” she cooed, a pleased smile gracing her features. “It’s all over now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to leave you ever again.”

I wanted to post more this month but never finished any drafts to completion… yikes anyways.

The Black Widow, specialist in espionage, had profiled you wrong? She was so certain that you were straight, but now she wasn’t so convinced.

Her real suspicion started with Thor.

Clint, Tony and Natasha sat playing cards. Natasha had won every round of every game they’d started and she just cleared her hand in Rummy. They were interrupted by Thor boasting from the hallway, “this is marvelous news!” He laughed.

“What’s got you so giddy?” Natasha asked him.

“The Littlest Avenger considers me to be a tolerable man.” He was very proud, chest puffed out, hands on his hip. Natasha’s eyebrows raised. She knew he meant you by the nickname. Not that he thought of you small, but less rivaling in physical strength and age as a human.

Tony was fast to answer, “I’m sorry, she what?”

“She has a list on her cellular phone of tolerable men.” He stated. “And of course she has placed The Mighty Thor on this list.”

Tony and Clint began asking about the list and if they saw their names on it. When Thor asked you about a tolerable women list, apparently you just laughed at him. Claiming that “you had a different kind of list for women.” She grew very curious about that one.

Then, few days after, the team was all together for a rowdy dinner. It had gone smoothly, most party’s Tony Stark had a hand in were a hit. By the tail end of it, Tony and Thor were drunk and bickering about which Avenger had more sex appeal or something.

Tony called your name. “You’re young and not Natasha Romanoff. Which of us would you take home?”

Natasha would have lied if she contemplated tuning out your answer, but then heard you boldly announce, “Tony, I would rather sit on a hot grill than sleep with any men in this room.” You would prefer to physical pain over sleeping with any man in the room. Maria had left with Pepper to help clean up after a spilled bottle of champagne that one of them had tipped over onto the table. And Natasha was the only woman in the room at the time.

Natasha was looking at you now and she was sure through your peripheral vision you saw her too.

She decided to set you up, now helping guide the conversation towards the information she wanted out of you.

“Clint, remember that one drag queen in Boston-” Natasha randomly brought up.

“She was very good at her job!” Clint defended himself. Drunk you found it hilarious to picture a slightly tipsy Clint get hit on by a drag queen with a heavy Boston accent. “I’ve never slept with a man.” Clint drunkenly confirmed.

“Me neither.” you giggled out, trying your best to whisper.

Clint looked at you confused or surprised, trying to showcase both in his stupor. “Wait a minute.” He loudly whispered crunching his eyebrows. “Do we bat for the same team?”

You nodded your head yes with a lackadaisical roll to your neck as the giggles continued before tony announced the door dash was here. You didn’t pay him any mind as you were too busy to remember natasha was still next to you.

She called your name, stealing away your attention. “Thor was telling us that you have a list of tolerable men.” You nearly choked on your drink. Thor told Natasha about your list.

Taking a breath, you nodded. “It’s a short list. He should be honored to be on it.” Natasha hummed.

“He mentioned you have a list of women too. hopefully, I’m tolerable enough to on there.” She feigned innocence, leaning her chin in her palm.

“Oh, that’s it’s a different list.” You blurted, too inebriated to stop yourself. Natasha should be ashamed of herself, taking advantage of your drunken brain, but she was afraid you would may have clammed up the moment she started poking otherwise.

“Oh yeah?” She continued, keeping the eye contact.

“Yeah.” You breathed. Nat raised an eyebrow.

“So, I’m not on that one?”

“You are!” You rushed. Her eyes caught the black shine of your phone slotted between your thighs. “Mind if I peak?” She dropped her voice to a lower whisper, continuing to lean into you. If you were assumed straight sober, drunk you absolutely was not, shamelessly staring at Natasha’s cleavage.

You nodded dumbly opening you phone to the notes app. Natasha read through the notes as you opened the app. Random lists, meaningless words and number sequences that probably made little sense to you anymore, Natasha’s eyes lagged on the note that had your bra size typed out before you opened the untitled note.

You were right, the list was short. Immediate names were Clint, Bucky, Thor, Scott? (question mark included) followed by one of the oldest janitors in sheild and the very flamboyant nurse from medical. Natasha did not try to contain her laugh. “What are your standards of this list?” You shrugged, laughing along with her.

The second list a few lines down and far longer. it started with Natasha’s name, then Wanda, Brunnhilde, Carol, Okoye, Maria, followed by a collection of reputable shield agents, and a firefighter in the NYFD you had met during the battle of New York, and lastly one Natasha did not recognize, Lisa from the bakery.

“I see a theme, but I must ask about the baker.” Natasha looked back up at you. You were chewing on the straw of your now empty cup, clearly nervous.

“Have you ever watched a woman make bread dough?” You simply asked. Natasha shook her head. “I’ll have to take you.” You promised, nodding enthusiastically.

Wveryone in the room seemed entranced in the food or their own conversation, so Natasha pushed on. “What’s this list then, if it’s not tolerable women.” Natasha watched your eyes shift nervously as you felt all the blood in your body rush to your face. It was at this point when your drunk brain began to catch up to what she was doing.

“Pretty women.” You murmured.

“And I’m number one. That’s sweet.” Natasha smiled at you taking a sip of her beer. Not missing the way you watched her sip and swallow.

Hook, line and sinker.

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

The next day you didn’t remember exactly what had gone on last night. Just the general overview. You didn’t care much to dig on the topic as getting drunk with the team wasn’t out of the ordinary.

When you peeled yourself out of bed, your brain felt like it was replaced by sludge and you were unsure of where you had last had your phone. You began wandering downstairs with the intention to try and retrace your steps to find it.

When you got to the kitchen, it was empty, aside from Natasha who was leaning against the opposite counter. Still in the sweats you were seen in at dinner, you regretted not being fully presentable.

On the other hand Natasha looked freshly showered, wearing jeans and a tight black tank top. you could even see the black strap of her bra poking out from behind the material. “Dobroye utrechko.” You assumed it was a greeting. You blink the drowsiness out of your eyes as you ripped your eyes back to her face.

“You’re up early.”

“It’s 10.” She laughed. You had no excuse. “Here.” Natasha poured you a cup of water and opened the cabinet where the team collected their over the counter stuff. She slid you the glass and placed two tablets of whatever in front of you. Zero survival skills in sight, you took the meds she gave you without even looking at them once. She then placed a muffin in front of you, remembering which ones you tended to chose over other flavors. Natasha then pulled your phone out of her back pocket. “Probably missing this too.”

“Oh my god.” You rushed, mid-bite of the muffin. “Thank you.” You cheered. “You’re the best!” F.R.I.D.A.Y. called out something over the PA about Steve needing Natasha so she grabbed her water bottle and began to exit the kitchen.

“Wouldn’t want you to have to restart your lists and I want to maintain my number one spot.” She exited the kitchen. You blinked. Her words were like a bucket of ice cold water and suddenly your memory of last night suddenly became abundantly more clear.

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

A few days later you’re stuffed into some tiny dress at some black tie cocktail party while the team works undercover with hotel security. The event was winding down and guests were beginning to leave. Natasha was on the upper floor, blended into the regular security like the rest of the team.

Tony sat outside the hotel watching the camera feeds from a large disguised rental van. He was only there if the Iron Man suit was needed, so he was running extra surveillance. but was Tony and Tony was getting bored. When you appeared on the feed rotation on one of the screens, he called you out over the com. “Can somebody drop a pen? I want to know what shield issued g-strings look like.”

“Looking to get one for yourself?” You asked him, looking to the wall to not look insane speaking to yourself. You were instructed to limit your com usage.

“If you help me pick one that matches pepper’s eyes.” He joked.

Steve broke up the quip. “Guys that’s enough. All dolled up or not she’s still your teammate.”

“She does look nice doesn’t she, boys?” Natasha ignored steve. “Too bad she’d burn her ass off before she’d touch any of you.”

“Romanoff.” Steve warned.

“Did you really say that?” Bucky laughed.

Natasha answered for you. “She did.”

“Ouch.” Sam said.

Before you could even attempt to defend yourself, you were interrupted by some diplomat curling an arm around your waist.

You politely turned him down, telling him how flattered you are and that you’re with the event. He doesn’t like that answer, telling you that it should be the reason he take you.

Like an angel, Natasha appears in that stupid security uniform. “Sir, this waitress is working I’m going to have to ask you to please allow her do her job.” She said curtly, keeping you behind her. After three minutes of torturous arguing the man was gone.

“Am I done?” You whined, to both Natasha and everyone on the comms. “I don’t think I can take anymore of this.”

“They’ve started packing up.” Natasha confirmed while you puffed out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for that back there.” You told her.

She shrugged. “It’s the least I could do after having to watch you get picked at like a carcass all night.”

The team had finished and rounded up in a vacant lounge at the hotel. Steve went over their plan to head out in the morning, he kept it short and sweet as the small team of agents looked tired. Not battle worn, but socially worn, all spread out around the fancy couches. The dress you wore was inconvenient so you opted to sit on a barstool and by the end of the meeting you were miserable. Meeting adjourned, Steve began handing out the room assignments. “2 to a room, rank based, no coed.” Very chivalrous, Captain America. Fourth group down was you and Natasha. You found out upon arrival that she would be roomed with you so you had no surprise to mask. The team checked in your room a day early to have the space to get ready in. “Everyone get some sleep.” Steve ordered.

“If it’s worth anything,” Natasha said appearing next to the bar. Her overnight bag was slung over her shoulder, your bags were already in the room. “I really like the dress.”

“I’m still pretty convinced that it is actually just a top.” You hiked the pleather material down your upper thigh, as the two of you now made your way towards the elevators. Having long since discarded the heels, the sounds of Natasha’s boots and your bare feet sounded through the hallway. The cocktail dress only leaves about two inches to the imagination and just barely came down over your ass. Steve was so flustered that he had given you his jacket to tie around your waist until mission go.

Natasha selected the button for the second floor and you spoke up. “You know, it took two people to get me into this thing.” You said. Natasha let out a light chuckle imagining the scenario. “I might need a hand getting out of it.”

A small flame lit itself inside Natasha. Her mouth ran dry, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Of course.” She agreed with a smile. You, yourself, were smiling straight ahead at your warped reflection of the shiny metal until they slid open.

Smiling, because of course you noticed natasha’s fishing expedition after you had asked clint to fill you in on whatever drunk you told Natasha. You had always assumed natasha placed you in the coworker box but it became obvious that she genuinely did not know you liked women.

Natasha held her breath when you reached into your bra and pulled the room card to key your door open. You pushed it with your shoe-clad fist, allowing Natasha to step inside behind you.

She could see the mess the team had made getting you ready. Cosmetic and garmet bags along the table and an open bathroom door where she could only imagine what chaos the counter was in.

She watched you drop your shoes by your suitcase on the floor before you began peeling off your jewelry. Rings and bracelets gone. The hoops you had been asked to wear had pulled at your ears all night that you were glad to bid goodbye. You turned to Natasha, who now sat at the corner of the four-poster king bed. The security uniform jacket discarded beside her, now only in a tight black t-shirt and tactical pants.

“Help me unzip?” You asked her as you turned your back to her. Through the mirror you could see the top of her head raise from behind you as her posture straightened up. You made sure you were standing up straight, holding your posture to specifically draw her attention. You were pretty sure it was working.

You felt her fingers grab at the top of the tight dress. She pulled the fabric back slightly, jerking you momentarily, before she unlatched the little eye and hook at the top. You had to try to regulate your breathing before she began on the zipper. “I think every man attending that event was thinking about doing this.” She spoke with a light laugh as her touch prickled your skin.

“Ew.” You chuckled airily, deflating your lungs so she could get the zipper past your strapless bra. Natasha could see from the band that it was red lace.

“I’m not going to lie, you had me so fooled.” Natasha finally said. She peeked over your shoulder to lock eyes in the mirror. Dress now fully unzipped to the swell of your ass. You’d have to shimmy out of the rest of it.

“Fooled?” You parroted. Playful look on your face.

“Unclockable.” Natasha corrected. You turned to face her, a single hand on your chest being the only thing holding the last piece of whatever modesty that dress allowed in place.

“I wasn’t trying to be stealthy.” You joked. understanding what she meant.

“Good, because that’s my thing and I’m taking it back.” Natasha tipped her had to the side, her eyes wandering your face.

“You can have it,” you agreed, “you can take the dress with it if you’d like.” Natasha made prolonged eye contact, silently asking permission. You hand dropped and the material being held to you chest fell. Natasha was not shy when your gaze dropped to your chest. The strapless bra was shelf styled, worn specifically to boost your cleavage. that was the final nail in natasha’s coffin.

She used the folded fabric at your waist to yank you past the foot of space in between you two. when you stepped in between her open thighs, natasha didn’t hesitate to kiss you. It was soft, but desperate. Like something she didn’t know she was starved of. You broke away to bunch your fingers around her shirt, untucking it and hauling it over her head.

Her chest was covered with a black sports bra, a white logo you couldn’t read printed on the side of her ribs. You two didn’t stall, reaching for the black belt keeping the cargo pants at her waist and quickly undoing it’s strap. The button came easily thank god. You yelled back to allow her to stand and shimmy the pants down.

You tried to bite back a comment about how much you liked the fitted material, but the black tiny boyshorts she was wearing had you more distracted. When you felt the zipper of your dress pinch your back. Natasha helped you work the tight material over your hips. Red and black lace, of course you were wearing a set.

“I’m underdressed.” She joked, referring to your contrast between your undergarments and herself. “No, you’re practical.” You shrugged. Keeping your eye contact, you reached behind yourself and unhooked the eyes of your bra.

Once again Natasha felt no shame as her eyes dropped back to your bare chest. “But I do want them off.”

Natasha watched you sink to the floor with a twinkle in your eye, hands climbing for her panties. “I can’t believe i thought you were fucking straight.” She said lowly, pulling the material down her very well built thighs. Your free arm wrapped around her one of her legs to pull her closer to you, curling at the top of her inner thigh.

“So the Black Widow has a shitty gaydar?” You began kissing Natasha’s thighs, moving closer to her center.

“Or you’re just full of surprises?” She countered, her breath stuttering when your kisses had finally reached their destination. You landed a kiss just over her clit, feather light. She didn’t flinch, but drew a long breath.

“I think i’m very predictable.” You made sure you were looking in her eyes when your tongue flattened out and lapped up her slit, each time your tongue toying with her clit. It wasn’t long before you pulled the bud in between your lips, sucking lightly. Natasha was unable to catch the moan that pulled from her throat. You adored the sound and you hummed against her, responding in a subdued encouragement. Pulling one of her legs over your shoulder, opening her up further to you.

You’d been so forward this entire time, Natasha allowed the hand of hers not gripping the bedpost to hold the back of your head. She experimentally rolled her hips forward just so slightly. And to her not so surprise you followed the movement, sat up straighter and eagerly allowed her to use your face.

She moaned when she locked eyes with your bleary stare. Keeping your hand wrapped around Natasha’s thigh, your dominant hand traveled around from her inner thigh to tease her entrance, then slipping a finger inside.

Her pace increased as she chased her high and you dutifully swallowed down her arousal, it messily dripped down your chin mixing with your saliva. Natasha’s breathing increased as she felt her orgasm nearing. When natasha’s hips stuttered, you pulled her clit between your lips once more sucking harder this time. Her heel dug into your bare back as your grip on her standing leg tightened, the strong muscles switched and flexing under you fingers. She began cursing in russian, you would have no idea what she was saying even if you weren’t busy with her thighs muffling the word in your ears. When she did cum, you stayed in place and chased her hips with your mouth swallowing her down.

You grinned up at her dumbly, face soaked in her arousal. Your face felt hot and your head felt light. Natasha had begun to catch her breath as you felt her fingers smooth over your hair. As her hands find their way to your face, thumbing over your swollen lips. “You would have been wasted on a man.”

⋆ ⋆ ─ one day at a time yelena became more and more enamored with you. slowly and subtly she began to take control of your day to day life. maybe she started with location sharing. harmlessly being able to keep a live tab on you while you were out for the day or on a mission without her. while out on missions she always made it a personal point to know exactly where you are at all times. it would be enough for her then, but eventually you have a close call- or the comms go out while you’re separated from the team. you reunite with the team safe but the event sends her into some sort of downward spiral. she spends the following days glued by your side, still trying not to seem like she’s clinging.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena tries to return to your normals, but she really can’t shake the feeling like she had lost you. you had already been training together, so when she corners bucky to be your regular mission partner, he didn’t have much protest.

⋆ ⋆ ─ instead of sharing garments, yelena took full control with your wardrobe. while getting dressed in the morning or for any planned event, she would offer her opinions on your closet. she’d rummage your drawers and select her favorites. often she’d already be dressed for the day, choosing your set of clothes to compliment her own.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena would check your gear before you even got a chance to touch it yourself. She’d let you go through your own safety check, of course. she loved to watch you do anything. her heart would soar over the moon if you even brought a concert to her attention, she loved nothing more than to be the one to ease you worry.

⋆ ⋆ ─ then she moved onto the cooking. some unspoken discussion happened the first time yelena placed a bowl of homemade soup in front of you. “ty yesh.” you eat. without any protest, you picked up the spoon. it continued from there whether at the watchtower or at your shared home space- she began to control your routine.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena tracked your nutrition balance. tracked your water intake. medications? she knows the dosage and has all the alarms set. and yes, she absolutely started tracking your menstrual cycle. thought you forgot to buy your preferred sanitary product? she had already been sure she checked your cabinet the moment she was aware your luteal phase began. bled through your panties? she’d tucked an extra pair for you into her bag just in case.

⋆ ⋆ ─ after yelena had spent so many mornings dressing you, somehow you began to remember her favorites. on a day that she isn’t there to chose for you, you relied on the memories of what she had previously chosen for you. she’s always doing so much for you, the least you could do is wear the bra she likes to see you in.

⋆ ⋆ ─ yelena’s favored form of intimacy was caring for you. joint showers became normal. she liked helping you scrub your scalp and the hard to reach places on your back. she would moisturize your skin with her favorite scent before choosing your pajamas and sat you down to brush out your hair. she would also braid it if you had the facilities. when your both ready for bed and you’ve brushed your teeth, she would stand beside you at the bathroom counter with floss in hand. “otkryt.” open. you’d obey, lips parting and jaw opening wide for her and allowing her room to work.

⋆ ⋆ ─ at some point yelena began enforcing a strict bedtime, but she wouldn’t exactly call it that herself. she banned phones after 10PM in the name of sleep disturbances, when actually she just wanted your complete undivided attention. to be the first and the last thing on your mind each day.

⋆ ⋆ ─ while out in public, yelena was always touching you. weather it was holding hands, her arm looped around you or her palm tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. you were no better, purposely finding a seat on her lap whenever it seemed appropriate for you.

⋆ ⋆ ─ nor you or yelena cared what others or even the team thought of the nature of your relationship. you paid no mind to their jests or sarcastic comments. she would only tolerate so much of it, cutting them short with her own attitude when you began to grow upset by the teasing.

⋆ ⋆ ─ of course yelena kew her obsessive dynamic wasn’t a healthy one. you were your own person. you had your own opinions and your own free will. yelena spent her most of her whole life having none of that. the fact that you willingly surrendered it to her was what she craved.

⋆ ⋆ ─ to be continued…

Anniversaries were usually events that were celebrated as a time of unity and joy. The kingdom celebrated the anniversary of their constitutional freedom that came with the death of the old monarchy. The local innkeeper and his wife celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary just this year with a loud party in their tavern. You had complicated feelings with your own. Of course, you wanted to be happy about it. Feel the joy that you had witnessed from the window of that tavern when you watched the innkeeper’s wife be twirled around by her husband with a bright smile. Instead your joy was snuffed out by the grim memory of the events leading up to your union. You had came into Wanda’s service on the worst day of you life. What should have been the last day of your life if not for her. Every year when the day passed by you tried to treat the day ordinarily, not wanting to spend time thinking back on the painful memories.

Wanda always kept the day of your anniversary busy. She usually achieved success by keeping your mind occupied with tasks and errand. Today was supposed to be no different.

You were out with your master completing the list tasks she had planned for the day. You always enjoyed the validation from the completion of tasks and you had been in good spirits for most of the day. It only took a bad turn when she received a suspicious tip from an elder she was friendly with in one of the villages you visited.

Both of you were unaware of whatever the seemingly random tip could have possibly lead to. The last thing you wanted to find was a group of mages with copious dead animals and small fae creatures inside of a small shack. Wanda had zero patience for this sort of thing- even more so since your meeting. You did your best to keep your mind on track and be on you best behavior while following Wanda’s orders.

With one flick of Wanda’s hand one of the mage’s body began to shift and deform. He twisted with horrifying and painful screams of agony, bones breaking and muscles shrinking down into something no more than a handful of centimeters tall. He became a creature that resembled some sort of rodent.

When he tried to scramble and run away, you leapt down from the table where you had perched on. Your clawed paw came down to hold him in an iron grip by his rotund abdomen. When he started to thrash, you dug your claws deeper into the wiry hair. While you were busy with the rat, his partner dropped to his knees and began to beg your master for his own life.

“Please- Mercy! I beg mercy!” He stuttered. “You can take my magic, my-my money, my knowledge! It’s all- all yours. Just please let me live!”

Wanda sarcastically looked like she was contemplating over an answer, despite her mind being already made up.

“I don’t know about that, I think my cat may still be hungry once we’re done with your friend.”

You growled for show, baring your teeth and pressing further on your prey.

“Maybe I’ll let you go free…” She contemplated for show. “If you can give me the information I need.”

Somewhere in their back and forth you tuned out, claws still holding the creature in place while your master hackled the man.

The alter in the center of the room drew your attention despite how hard you tried to ignore it. You made linked your gaze with the cloudy eyes of the deceased goat, exsanguinated and gutted out in the tabletops. The sight made your vision spin, bubbling nausea up your throat. As the words being spoken around you faded out of your reality, your mind began to wander back to the alter you were once chained to. The animal in front of you could just have easily been yourself all those years ago.

It was then when your thoughts began to grow unkind to you. The scene before you had your mind taking you back to that horrible day when you first met your master. Even with Wanda just a few feet away and only the phantom pains from the iron that had bound you- you couldn’t help it.

You blinked and suddenly you weren’t in the shop anymore. Blinked again and the dead goat was no longer on the stone alter. Another blink and you were back in that cage.

You watched as the mages began to file back into the hut.

One… two... three... four… five… six… and seven.

They carried in their supplies and fulfilled the orders given to them by the man you figured out as their leader. They paid you no mind while they set up, treating you like nothing more than one of their objects to set on their sickening alter. One man readied their ingredients, one prepared their scripture. One of the men retraced the sigils on the floor and walls with their paints; and another began to prepare the restraints.

You never saw their faces. They had always kept them covered. The characterized masks they wore prevented you from seeing their expressions, all designed to look grotesque and toed the line of what some would deem demonic.

You couldn’t remember the events of your capture. To escape the harsh winters of the north, you had began to migrate south while choosing to follow the bird’s migration. You assumed one of their mages had casted a spell far away from you to not notice anything at all. Your last memory was traveling the road, with a covered bridge in your path. While unconscious of the men looped a chain around your throat and secured a lock, fastening it to the front of the cage- both decorated with incantations to disorient you. The iron infused compound burned at your skin and fatigued your muscles.

You had no idea where they had taken you. The air was warm- but inside the building was hot and humid. Uncomfortable. You had tried to cry for help when you first awoke. When no help came, your fellow fae in cages looked to you with pity. A little mangey house cat in a cage. Nobody heard your cries. You were too far into the wood from the surrounding villages for them even notice the bloody screams or their loud and haunted chanting every night.

A veil of smoke still hung visibly in the air. The room smelled like burnt herbs and iron. All evidence of the heinous rituals that had taken place in the nights prior. You had no idea truly how many fae were there before you. You had been here long enough to see the sunrise twice before today. Six fae had you already watched be slaughtered and sacrificed by these men.

Three sacrifices were given a night. And there were only three fae left. There was a young male ogre, a little red fairy, and yourself, a changing. The ogre boy had been fighting back, pulling at his chained restraints. So of course, they took him first.

You yowled, knocking against the side of the crate, not ready to watch another person die a senseless death. You could hear the buzz of the fairy as they rose up against the glass jar, little fists tapping on the surface. You knew screaming wouldn’t help. The combined magic of the group was enough to subdue the boy in the iron chains.

You had to look away this time, turning clumsily in your small space. With your back turned you were only able to hear his screams and they carved him and drained his life force.

The spell casted your way immediately had your consciousness fading. You began to panic. You knew what came next now. It was your turn to be their sacrifice. The cage door was creaking open. Your tiny limbs flailing, sharp claws out in an attempt to defend yourself. The mage wore thick gloves, the ones worn by the metalsmith you had seen working in the forges. You sunk your claws into to it regardless, putting up the fight of your life. If you couldn’t get free, you were dead.

The mage that grabbed you yelled in frustration, other hand gripping your back and pushing you into the crate.

The large glove grabbed at one of your claws and turned it unnaturally. The delicate bone snapped easily under the man’s muscle. The intense pain fueled your panic. The screech released from your throat was near ear piercing- sounds of protest and ripping fabric grew louder.

Now over the alter, two more sets of hands were on you now, the chain on your neck was being tightened and pulled down onto the stone alter. You crashed and clambered against the stone was best you could, knocking their talismans and candles out of place. You hadn’t stopped screaming the entire time, biting down on the mage’s glove that was secured near your face. Unfortunately it was all for nothing, they had secured your restraints on the stone and began backing up to their respective places.

The glint of the dagger raised above you drew your attention in as their leader began the incantation. Speaking the evil foreign words written in the old book he held. You couldn’t save yourself and you realized there was nobody coming to save you. No man. No god. It crossed your mind that maybe the devil could hear your pleas. Maybe he was even in the room with you under one of these masks. Your desperate cries grew louder, but still fell on deft ears.

I’m going to die. Somebody help us, please! Anybody!

Wanda’s eyes snapped open as she was ripped from her mediative state. The hundreds of candles that surrounded the room flickered violently at the disturbance. Screams rung in her ears, echoes of the surge of magic faded out and bounded off the walls of the dimly lit room.

The cry she heard made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. As she caught her breath back, she couldn’t shake the despairing feeling that pulled at her gut. The call was full of emotions, not just of despair and anger, but true unbound terror. So loud it broke through her concentration. Wanda dropped herself back into the meditative state in hopes to find the space where that powerfully treacherous cry sourced from. The call was so loud, unmistakable and not at all difficult to find its origin. With little searching, she found it was not sourced from the powerful witch that she had imagined, but a house cat. The magical aura surrounding the soul suggested some sort of fae- the seven others humans wielding magic far superior than they seemed equipped to handle.

When she materialized and stepped into the hut, the air almost made her gag. Thick with smoke and freshly decomposing flesh. If she wasn’t already suspicious of this outcome, the scene inside of the room was more horrible than the smell.

A young fae lay slaughtered on floor before their blood soaked alter. Their assumed leader stared straight ahead at her, holding a very dangerous book she recognized. One that was not suitable for human greed. Four other mages then froze in their place mid chant- hands still joined together. Another had his hands inside of the deceased and the last one had his hand around the throat of a malnourished black cat. His hand raised high with a blood stained dagger.

The residual fae energy in the room made it clear that this was not their first time preforming this sickening ritual. Sharp anger painted her vision a bloody shade of red. The fairy vanished in a gentle pulse of red magic from Wanda’s fingers, a portal casted to send him to freedom a few miles away. The next pulse of magic came directly from Wanda herself, knocking the man holding the knife over the feline back off of his feet. The metal secured around the cat’s neck and body was carefully warped and ripped away by her strong magic. The red cloud remained, moving the envelop and hold the small battered body in a careful cradle up off of the hard stone.

“H-hey!” Their devil of a leader took a bold step forward. In another flicker of red magic, he had no more air for words, suddenly choking on his breath. He dropped from the lack of oxygen, clawing at his throat.

The second man dropped whatever talisman he held in their clasped hands, stepping back from her.

“Y-you’re the-” Wanda’s eyes shifted to the source of the voice. The mage that had been disemboweling the young man on the floor of the hut pleaded. He was dead before his sentence was finished, blood poring out of the orifices of his face.

“Please h-have mercy.” The next one pleaded, knees hitting the dirt floor with a loud thump. His hands were threaded in a prayer position as he ironically begged for his life.

“You will find no mercy here. Nor will you find peace.”

Soon all seven twisted sorcerers that once stood in the room were crumpled on the floor still choking on their own blood or dead already. Wanda released the stolen magic they had stored in hopes it would return back to the forests and its fae creatures. Their deaths were far too quick for their crimes, but the soul that had called her here was her priority.

“Oh my.” Wanda uttered in sympathy as she approached you.

Using whatever strength you had left you tried to fight against the warm magic surrounding you when you saw a figure approach you. The unknown woman’s voice tried to sooth you, speaking softly and shushing you gently.

“Was it you that called me here, little one?” She asked in a hushed tone, already knowing the answer. You blinked rapidly up at the kind stranger that had decided to save you, body still jerking nervously. She slowly extended a hand to you in loose clasped fist, hoping you would take an interest in smelling her scent. You didn’t move.

“You poor thing.” She spoke more to herself.

Your fur had matted from being inside of the cage, areas being burned off in areas that had direct contact to the iron, in its place were angry welts. Each paw was burned and bleeding, accompanied by the obvious broken leg.

She slowly removed the wool cloak wrapped around her shoulders, careful not to alarm you further. Your vision was stolen from you as a red material was draped over your body and instinctively your thrashing calmed down. Despite your apparent fury, Wanda could sense your heart beat slowing down beyond a usual pace. She could feel the way the soul in her grasp had been losing its strength. The small fae creature before her was dying.

Now bundled in her wools, your breathing slowed back down as you processed the new scent surrounding you. It was warm something akin to a vanilla, earthy mixture of burned herbs. The warmth that you had felt earlier had returned, gently enveloping your aching joints and burnt skin. It didn’t burn, instead provided a complicated cooling sensation across all of your injuries. You felt your skin sooth and the sharp pain of your broken bone dissipate. Soon your strength returned almost fully, pain no longer throbbing from head to toe, only an intense feeling of fatigue remainder.

A few long moments passed by as you calmed down. When you finally felt steady, you decided that you wanted to speak to the woman who saved you, so you used the newfound energy to return to your human form. You felt her tug the wool from your head, freeing you from the warm material. Blinking up at the newer light, eyes adjusting to the new color spectrum to get look at proper look at her.

Your savior was beautiful. It wasn’t the devil that heard your pleas, but surely she was an angel. While you stared up at her, her identity became clear to you.

“Hello.” She greeted you softly.

You blinked again. Now you dared your eyes to float around the room. Gaze casting over the bodies of your attackers that littered the floor. Taking in the carnage she had caused. For you- because you had called her here. Your teary eyes lingered on poor orc boy that had gone first. You felt guilty. If you were louder, would she have came sooner?

“Are you feeling alright, now?”

You nodded.

“Good.” Her kind smile never faltered, green eyes twinkling in the moonlight

“Can you speak?”

You nodded again. Not all fae learned human languages, most changelings had to if they wanted to blend in.

“Are you afraid of me? I’m sorry you had to see that mess.”

You swallowed, finally finding the courage to speak. Her apology confused you because it was her that had saved you.

“No.” The waiver in your voice betrayed your answer.

“Did you mean to call me here?”

Did you? You did call out to whatever powers were present to listen. You just had no idea it would be the Scarlet Witch that heard them. You knew of her reputation. She was most definitely the most powerful solitary witch still alive. You had heard rumors of her feats and her abilities. After a moment of contemplation, you concluded that you must have called her here to you.

You nodded again, this time less confident. She hummed in thought looking over your features.

“All magic comes with a price, you know.”

Her statement alarmed you because you had no money. It was of little value to most fae, especially ones like yourself that spent their time wandering freely as a stray.

“You will owe me no debt, only your loyalty.”

That day she burned a spell into your chest over your heart, permanently tying your soul to hers. As long as your heart continued beating, it was only beating for her.

You were pulled from your transe by a pull on the scruff of your neck. Instead of the lax position you would have fallen into, the memories had set your nervous system on fire and the action startled you. Your claws blindly swiped out for your attacker, catching something on a single curved nail.

“Ouch!”

Your eyes opened.

It was Wanda holding you, not those devils that had disguised themselves as men. The little rodent you had been holding down was bleeding profusely on the dirty floor from the wounds you assumed you must have caused.

It was her palm that you had scratched. A thin red line cut through her extended palm. You stared at the damage you had done to her near spotless skin, dread filling up your system. You wiggled in her grasp still, panicking further with each second that she did not drop you.

“You need to calm down.” Her voice spoke again.

You made a sound of disdain high in your throat. A natural openent would have seen it as a threat, a warning that you were growing very unhappy. Your master’s grip didn’t falter, instead her injured hand threw her woolen cloak over your eyes just as she had done the first day you met. The lack of vision startled you, but instinctually calmed you down with the lack of stimuli.

She was hushing you, just like she had that day, tucking the wool beneath your feet and humming softly to fill the silence. You growled again.

“Shh with that nonsense,” she said softly. “Im sorry- we’re going home now.”

Back safe at home you moved throughout your shared space like you were walking on glass. The guilt was overwhelming. You found yourself struggling to not turn feline and run with your tail tucked between your legs to hide in shame.

Wanda had cleaned and healed her hand in the first few moments you had arrived while you stood to the side watching in horror at what you had done. She didn’t need the bond to know how you were feeling after your excursion, she could practically see the anxiety rolling off of you. Deciding that you might need something to do, she spoke up softly to grab your attention.

“Malyshka, would you fetch me some water from the well, please?”

“Yes.” You squeaked softly, almost tripping over your feet to grab the designated pail. The bell around your neck jingled chaotically as you a clamored for the door.

You felt you needed air that wasn’t inside. You needed to breathe something that wasn’t riddled with shame and the smell of your master’s perfumes. You didn’t feel deserving to even be smelling her scent, let alone look at her. When made it outside you finally you took in a deep breath of fresh air. helped ease you a little.

When you did reach the well, you had half the mind to climb up the stones and jump down to hide away forever. Wanda must be upset with your behavior, surely she wouldn’t mind not seeing your face for a while…but she asked you to retrieve her water. So you scrapped the idea and began to fill the pail with trembling hands before returning to your home. Wanda was still at her work station, scribbling down her notes.

You tried to be quiet on your return, but failed. You loved every gift Wanda gave you, but the little bell around your neck was drawing too much attention to you. While trying to keep its jingle to a minimum, you spilt a little amount of water onto the floor. The very minor mess made your stomach drop, more dread settling into your system.

You took in a short breath through your nose, biting down on your bottom lip hard to try and stop it from quivering. You set the pail down slow and gently, not wanting to spill more before you cleaned up the small puddle. Then while transferring the water into the pitcher, you had spilt more on the tabletop. Not as much as the floor, but you wanted to melt into the puddle all the same.

“Alright, I think that’s enough.” Wanda spoke up suddenly, causing your footsteps to falter.

You clutched pitcher in your hands tighter while bringing it closer to your chest. Confusion washed over your features, as she had instructed you bring the water. You wondered if the spilt water was enough to finally upset her.

“Come here.” She beckoned you, throwing a look over her shoulder. You moved to set the pitcher down thinking she changed her mind, but she interrupted your movements.

“Ah ah, I said to bring the water.”

You blinked in frustration, pursing your lips. You did your absolute best to keep your thoughts under control, less she already heard them.

You obeyed and moved to place the water onto the table, but she stood and grabbed it from you. You let out a noise of frustration as she continued to confuse you with her orders. She took the pitcher from you and placed it onto the counter herself before waiting back down in her seat.

“Why-?”

“Stop.”

Your movements stalled completely , shoulders stiffening at her now demanding tone. She took your hands into her own, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Take a breath.”

Your expression twitched, lip wobbling lightly.

“In.” She eased. You took in a breath, shaken and skipping. “Out.”

You repeated breathing a few more times, calming you down before you really ended up upset.

“I owe you an apology, my pet.” Wanda apologized. Your eyes turned to your master in confusion. “I was not fully aware of the circumstances of our little detour today. I would have never asked you to be in a situation like that again. Especially today.”

Her kind words soothed the burning anxiety that was scratching at your mind. Wanda’s hand had moved to pet at your hair, further easing the anxiety from your bones. You muscles relaxed against her touch, leaning in slightly.

“‘S okay.” You uttered.

“No, it’s not.” Wanda pressed her lips into a thin line, regret painted all over her features.

“I should’ve have made you stay.”

“I won’t leave you.” You answered immediately. She smirked knowingly.

“Yes, but I should be more mindful.”

You blinked once, not wanting to ever entertain the idea of Wanda being wrong.

“I’m sorry about your hand.” You finally found the words to apologize properly.

“Look.”

She presented you her freshly healed palm, not even a ghost of a scar remained on her soft unblemished skin. You had to stop yourself from grabbing at the outstretched appendage, feeling unworthy of touching your master.

“You did nothing wrong.” Wanda assured with a sweet smile.

Your mind traveled back to the rodent trapped under your paw.

“I killed him.” Your voice began to waiver.

“And I was going to kill him anyways.” She shrugged, hand coming up to pet at your hair. “He was involved with necromancy.”

Your nose scrunched in distaste. You preferred the dead stay dead.

“So, I suppose… It is I that should be thanking you.”

You shrugged a shoulder limply. The praise felt misplaced after the harm you had caused, guilt still high in your mind.

“Hm.” She hummed indifferently. “I don’t hear any of those polite little manners of yours that I love.”

Your shoulders squared up, fumbling with the words.

“Y-you’re welcome.”

“That’s better.” The hand that had been soothing at your hair traveled down to the back of your neck and sat there, heavy weight comforting.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you grab me that little red book of mine on the writing desk?”

With newfound confidence, you were nodding eager to fulfill the request. The little bell still jingling around you neck as you moved. 

The book was one you saw Wanda often scrawling in during her spare time. You didn’t know its purpose, only witnessing it was filled with her private writings and occasional doodles. When you handed her the leather bound book, she began slipping through the pages

“I’ve been working on something…” You watched her . “I only waited so long to show you because wanted it to be absolutely perfect.”

You curiously peeked over her shoulder to see the page her hands stalled at. The drawing covering both sides of the centerfold. You immediately recognized the symbols of the marking Wanda placed on you when she took ownership of you as her familiar. This new design was larger, intended to expand your binding seal to mark up across the expanse of your upper chest and up your neck to rest at the collar Wanda gifted you. It was a little peculiar. The need for more runes and bindings puzzled you slightly, but Wanda had never been wrong with her magic before.

“What do you think?” She asked, looping her arm around your waist to pull you to sit on her lap.

“‘S pretty.” You uttered trying to decipher some of the sigils and runes she had stylized into the design. Some you recognized, others seemed to be of Wanda’s own creation. When focusing on the shapes of the mark, you could see a monogram hidden in the lines displaying an M or maybe it was a W, you weren’t exactly sure.

“I started it after you were snatched up on that delivery last year.”

Ah, that was it. It was for your safety.

“You were such a brave girl, but you shouldn’t have to have been.” You stayed quiet as she continued to speak. Her arm smoothed up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“I don’t want anymore close calls with you.”

“I know we don’t ever do presents- especially today, but…” Her voice trailed off, eyes still trained to gauge the expression on your face as you studied the design. Wanda knew you rarely opposed of anything she requested, most familiars were blindly loyal to their masters. She valued you higher than just her familiar- you were her partner for life and she loved you more than life.

“Okay.” You gave her your consent. The bright smile you enjoyed so much returned to her face.

“Up on the bed,” she ordered, patting your behind playfully. “Clothes off.”

Once again you eagerly scrambled to follow her instructions. The duvet was soft against your bare back, extra blankets and pillows casted out of the way. The red book was laid open beside you on the bed as a point of reference for Wanda. She had tossed a leg over your hips, careful to keep her weight off of you as she hovered over you. You tried to settle again the softness of the blankets and keep your breathing under control. The built up anxieties of the day still weighed heavy on your mind. That horrible place. The dead animal. The cut you caused on Wanda’s palm.

“Ready?” You nodded, swallowing down whatever displaced nerves had appeared with your intruding thoughts.

You watched the red glow materialize around her fingers, studying them carefully as they drew closer to your skin. As they slouched down on your chest, the familiar cool burning sensation started at the preexisting mark. The angle was awkward to look at, so you casted your gaze to your master’s face instead. Her expression was calm as she focused her attention on your chest.

The sensation of her fingertip lightly dragging across your skin grounded your thoughts. The warmth of her magic traveled through your body your body from her work had began to relax you. You felt it seep into your skin and settle heavily in your muscles. If the haze was intentional or not you welcomed the calming sensation, letting the fog of her take over your mind.

You were nearly lulled into a deep sleep by her presence and the weight of her body above you. Maybe she was doing it on purpose, or maybe it had something to do with the new runes.

Wanda had danced around the meaning of the spell work she had placed within her design, not disclosing any of the details to you. Altering your seal technically meant renegotiating your contract. There was no physical write up, only the inking she put on your skin.

She was grateful when she felt you start to relax and melt into the duvet. Your eyes had glossed over, thoughts growing calm as you stared dreamily up at her. The trust you had in her superseded your bond as her familiar. She knew other witches and warlocks that treated their familiars as nothing but pets or slaves to do their grunt work. To her, you were her partner for life. Your bond as her familiar meant that as long as you were safe by Wanda’s side, your lifespan would coincide with her own. You might be immortal, but you were not indestructible. Your magical abilities greatly underweighted her own.

The new spell work would be more taxing to her in the long run, but she knew you were worth every pain or hardship she could ever face. With the final markings under your collarbones complete she sat back to admire her work.

“All done.” Wanda informed you. You blinked lazily arching up into a stretch. You had nearly fallen asleep during the still minutes that had gone by.

She give you the space to sit up.

You admired the mark in the mirror. Heart swelling from the carefully crafted artwork she had spent months on. Wanda appeared behind you, hands resting on your bare shoulders. Her lips ghosted over the skin of your neck, placing a kiss above the collar. It was then that you noticed the dark staining to her fingertips. The kind that only showed when she used too much magic at once. The sight always worried you, each time it appeared it seemed to stay longer and longer until it faded.

“Nobody will ever be able to touch you again.” She spoke in to your skin. Wanda wasn’t sure if the words were for you or herself.

Curiosity got the better of you prompting you to raise your hand and touch the seal. Your fingers traced the lines Wanda had carefully placed on your skin.

“How do you feel?” She asked, still pressing kisses to your skin.

“I feel okay.”

“Just okay?” She placed a kiss on your scapula, just behind your heart.

You nodded. She waited a beat, basking in your content awed expression and calm heartbeat. A prideful smile graced your master’s features as she watched you.

“And what do we say when we revive a gift?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Malyshka.” Wanda hummed in approval.

Her inky fingertips snaked under your arms to grope at your bare chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples. Your breathing stuttered, eyes fluttering.

You suddenly my turned in her hold, climbing up onto her lap once more. She allowed you the space to move. You kissed her with all the hidden emotion you had stored away. She allowed you to lick against her lips, parting them for you to deepen the kiss.

Wanda loved when you were so forward, she found it cute. You parted from her, quick breaths puffing against her face.

“Wanna give you a gift too.”

You slid down off of the bed, knees hitting the soft carpet and hands parting the slits of the skirts she wore. Her fingers grabbed for face gently, halting your movements with light a squish of your cheeks.

“You sure? You know you never owe me anything.” Her expression was serious, eyes still faintly glowing red with power.

You will owe me no debt, only your loyalty. The words of her promise still holding true through the years.

You nodded in her hold. With a smile she released your cheeks, thumb swiping against your lips. You immediately parted them and took the digit into your mouth. You sucked lightly before she pressed her thumb down onto your tongue. She pulled it from your mouth with a line of saliva connecting them.

“Go ahead, then.” She parted her thighs for you to have better access to her.

With her permission to proceed you continued your prior movements to free her of her undergarments. A mixture of pride and the need to prove yourself to her propelled your actions. The scent of her arousal was heaven to your heightened senses.

Pulling her hips to a comfortable angle, you immediately got to work. Starting at her dripping hole, you greedily lapped at her slick arousal, humming in content. Only when you had your fill did you extend your focus. You licked at her clit, tongue pushing against and swirling around the bud. Wanda’s head tipped back, hand had a tight grip on tour hair now. Her inky fingers pulled at the roots causing you to moan out against her.

You could feel your own arousal gathering in your panties, pleasure pooling heavy in your gut.

“Fuck.” She cursed, eyes opening to meet your hungry gaze. Her chest raised and fell quickly as you continued to chase her to the edge.

“You’re such a good girl, yeah?” Her words came out breathless. The praise had your mind short circuiting for a moment, thighs clenching and knees shuffling.

You hummed again in agreement, tonguing at her entrance. The hand in your hair tightened, her leg muscles jumping and almost closing against your head. Your hands did their best to kept her in place, nails biting into the fat of her thighs.

When you sensed her growing close to her peak, you allowed her to use you. You flattened your tongue against her clit, your grip helping her grind up against you.

The feeling of her magic returned, the cooling warmth this time clouding your thoughts. You tried to keep focus on your task at hand, but mind clouded over with your own pleasure. Your master was placing thoughts in your head. Arousing thoughts of her, thoughts of you with her, images of every degenerate thought she had of you.

Whimpering against her core, your hips began stuttering and jerking against the empty air. Your master’s magic was bringing your own orgasm to a forced crescendo.

She came with a soft sound of pleasure, her free hand not in your hair muffling the sounds you loved to hear. You greedily lapped at her release, swallowing down the taste of her. You couldn’t focus on the lack of volume from her because she was forcing your orgasm to completion.

Your orgasm hit with a near full body convulsion, a powerful pulse of magic spreading from your head to toes. You felt your garmets soak in arousal, thighs growing more slick by the passing second. Your head lolled to rest on her bare thigh, all the muscles in your body going lax.

You both took a few moments to gather your breath. Her fingers released from your hair, allowing your body to slump forward. You absentmindedly nuzzled at her skin while breathing in the natural scent of her sweat.

Your face glistened in the setting sunlight that spilled into the room. Wanda’s fingers that gripped your face smeared it across your flushed skin. Her hands squished at your cheeks again, this time pushing harder to part your jaw wide. With no warning she leaned over you and spit a small amount of saliva onto your tongue. You swallowed on instinct, presenting an outstretched tongue to her.

“I’m so proud of you Malyshka.” Her words made pride bloom in your chest. “Such a brave little kitty I have.”

⋆ ⋆ ─ thank you so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed my work, likes comments & reblogs are very greatly appreciated and super motivational! ♡♡♡

2:00 PM

You had been practically drowning in paperwork for weeks. Days filled with the endless streams of words and numbers on a screen, phone calls and minor mental breakdowns. Just when thought you were ready to start on this set of files you had been putting off. You noticed something about the charts. Or lack there off.

With all your extra work, you had completely forgotten about your earlier memos, which had clearly gone unnoticed. It’s not like you fully expected them to be received, the Emergency Department is always busy with something new. And with all your work piling up, you were really not as on to of things as you should have been.

The filing deadline was fast approaching and it was already after lunch. Your only reasonable option now was that you had to make a personal visit downstairs and search for the assigned physician yourself. You had not been lucky enough to meet her face to face yet, but you have heard of the reputation of Doctor Santos. Tricky and abrasive, with a confident personality of the biggest dick in the locker room. Despite the rumors her overall patient satisfaction has all been mostly positive from what you had seen.

When you finally slipped through the doors of the Emergency Department, and made a beelline for the most trusted face in the room.

“Knew I heard those fearsome finance footsteps, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Dana greeted you as she continued to read the tablet in front of her.

“C’mon Dana, if she swam all the way downstream…What we really should be asking is who is the next victim?” Doctor Langdon added.

“Well unfortunately it’s not you.” You flashed him a sickening customer service smile. He gave you a playful middle finger, inconspicuously hidden close to the top of the desk.

“And actually, I’m looking for Doctor Santos.” You turned to Dana and offered her a real smile, knowing she would help you out.

Doctor Langdon didn’t bother to hold in his cheerful laughter.

“This day keeps getting better.” He smiled brightly to Dana before pushing off the desk. “I hope you have a field day with Doctor Santos.”

Your eyebrows crunched in confusion, staying silent and allowing Doctor Langdon to go return to his patients.

“Good Lord,” she sighed as she watched him walk away. “Santos is in with a peds burn in North 2.” Dana answered.

Your eyes floated around the stream of curtains and empty medical beds before returning to her with a puzzled look.

“That one.” She pointed with a laugh.

“Thank you.”

You waited idly by the curtains Dana pointed to, shifting your weight on your feet to ease your idle jitters. Each minute wasted down here had you only visualizing your work upstairs backing up higher and higher your plate. After seven agonizing minutes Doctor Santos had finished talking with the family inside about care instructions for the wound and exited the bay.

“Doctor Santos,” you grabbed her attention. She turned to you with a puzzled look, eyes turning to read your hospital badge. You introduced yourself regardless before you began to explain your visit.

“I’ve sent a few reminders about charts all addressed to you this past week and I don’t want to believe that all five were unseen or accidentally lost, but I know it could be possible-”

She cut you off with a snort. “So you’re the Piranha?” She asked completely disregarding what you had just stated.

“I have a name.”

“Piranha.” She stated like you were hadn’t just shared your actual name with her.

You blinked twice, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“I need your charts submitted by 4PM.” You snipped.

Someone from across the room shouted for Doctor Santos’ help. She began walking in that direction, leaving you to frustratingly follow her steps.

“I’ll be sure to put it at the very top of my to-do list.”

You sighed quietly, not wanting to give too much attitude with your next statement. Your words came out softer, less bite to the words. They came out scripted and bored.

“If I do not receive them today, I will be reaching out to the attendings to see how we can fix this issue going forward.”

Her steps halted.

“Wow…” She said slowly, expression souring. “tough crowd.”

“By 4PM, please, Doctor Santos.” You give her a customer service smile.

“Yes, Miss Piranha, ma’am.” She gave you a salute with a playful smile.

“Thank you.” You quickly shuffled your way out of the Emergency Department, not exactly privy to witnessing some gruesome scene on accident.

4:00 PM

Nothing.

And thirty minutes later… Still no updated forms have been submitted by Doctor Santos.

As if you didn’t have an enough work to finish up, you spared the time to go back down to the Emergency Department. This time your steps were fast and pointed, irritation clearly oozing from you like a gloomy toxic cloud.

“Uh oh.” Dana’s voice echoed as you bypassed the desk completely.

“Watch out.” Another voice echoed.

“Doctor Santos!” You caught up to her.

“Little Miss Piranha.” She greeted, not slowing down her pace. You ignored the name and kept up with her steps.

“It’s past 4PM.”

“Sorry, I’ve been kind of busy.” She floated her hands around the bustling room.

You waited only a moment to steep in your irritation before continuing to speak.

“I understand that you’re kind of busy, and I kind of have deadlines to maintain in order to not compromise patient’s care based on an easily avoidable financial hiccup with an insurance claim. All because their physician was too busy to give them the time.” You sighed dramatically.

“Or maybe somewhere in your eight years of higher education you never learned how to time manage as well as you thought.”

“Wow. Ouch,” She stopped to turn and face you now that she was at her station. “Has anyone told you that you’re kind of a bitch.”

“All the time.” You nodded, peachy expression still in tact.

You were constantly being berated by unhappy patients and families, always working with patient advocacy. You had grown very thick skin.

“And for your information, I do know how to manage my time.” Doctor Santos informed.

“I just wanted an excuse to get you back down here.” She admitted with a small smile. Your irritation spiked, the poised expression on your face cracking with a flash of disdain.

“You wasted more of my time on purpose?”

“Only a waste of time if you choose to see it that way.” She shrugged.

“Is that not what I just said?” Your eyes darted down to your watch. “It’s taken me six minutes to get down here- six minutes back up, that’s almost a quarter of an hour alone on travel time gone.”

“Okay well, your line of thinking is kind of a nightmare.” She pointed out with a look of surprised disbelief.

“Noted. Why are you holding me hostage Doctor Santos? Have you updated the charts?”

“Oh yeah!” She pulled them up on her screen.

“So, submit them?” You gaped.

“First.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“You have to agree to have drinks with me after work.”

Your entire system seemed to malfunction. Thoughts shut off as you read her expression for any evidence of a jest or mockery. She looked like she hesitated for just a moment, but didn’t back down.

“… Unless you don’t drink. I’m sure we could figure something else out.”

You cleared your throat.

“That is very forward of you, Doctor Santos.”

“Trinity; and is that a no?”

“No...” You hummed in thought, trying to regain control of the situation. “but if you submit your charts you can ask me again later. When my brain stops feeling like it’s going to start melting out of from my eyes.”

Trinity clicked the submission button where her mouse had been hovering without another thought.

“Deal.”

7:00 PM

You could even feel your own anger bouncing off the walls of the elevator as it traveled back down to the ground floor. You were out of the doors before they had even fully opened and began your very direct walk to the Emergency Department for the third time today. Ahmad just so happened to be at the doors, immediately clocking the energy and opening the door for you.

“Everybody look out!” Robby chuckled lowly as he watched your speedy steps travel into the Pitt.

“Piranhas in the water!” Doctor Langdon announced.

Boo! It’s the evil billing department again! You didn’t mind the pointed attitude you received, Someone has to do the job. Surgeons did the real cutting, but nothing really cut quite as deep as the final bill.

Only today the stupid nickname irked you even more. By now, you were well into overtime for the umpteenth day in a row and your eyes felt like cotton balls from staring at your screen for so long, blue light glasses be damned. The look on your face could only be described as something resembling homicidal.

You took the direct path you remembered that lead to Doctor Santos’ station, hoping to see her colleague and roommate hovering somewhere nearby.

“Look who it is,” doctor Santos greeted as you approached. “I really hope that unhappy face isn’t for me.”

“No, I’m not here for you, Doctor Santos.” You gave her a small strained smile with what grace you could find.

“Trinity.” She corrected again. You sighed lightly.

“I’m here looking for Doctor Whittaker.”

Her face pulled into a grin. “Fuckleberry?”

Hearing the explicite version of the rumored nickname out loud almost made you laugh.

Like she was a saint performing a miracle, Doctor Whittaker appeared from somewhere behind her. Your unsuspecting victim politely greeted you as he approached.

“Santos, still not up to date on your charts?” He asked while laughing.

“Honey, no.” Santos gave him a very sarcastic pout, sadistic glint in her eyes.

“Doctor Whittaker, I’m here for you.” You turned back to Doctor Whittaker. His face paled, like he was next up on the execution stage.

“Me?” He looked panicked. “I’m all up to date.”

You gave him a sad smile, handing him a thin folder of printed copies of charts.

“Entirely illegible.”

Doctor Santos continued to wear a smug grin, chucking behind her closed lips.

“I can’t file shit if I can’t read shit.” You explained, voice fatigued. “Punctuation is not suggested. It is mandatory.”

Trinity began to laugh.

“Nice job Fuckleberry! How bad is it?”

“Could be a NASA equation for all I know- I’m not the doctor. I need your revised version in my inbox by yesterday.”

“Yes, sorry, sorry! I-I’m on it!”

“On it, in it, over it. I’ll be here late.” You informed him. “I do expect a call when you update everything.”

“Absolutely, yes sir- ma’am- miss.” He coughed and sputtered over the words.

“Thank you.” You sighed in relief, like feeling a large weight fall off your shoulders.

“I’ll see you later, Trinity.” You offered her a softer smile before turning on your heel and heading back upstairs.

Only when you had turned the corner to exit the Emergency Department did Dennis release the tension from his body.

“What the hell was that?” He asked his roommate.

“What was what?” She kept her eyes glued onto her computer.

“That?”

“Wow,” she extended the vowel, “I can see how your notes were so illegible.” She dodged the question.

“She was totally being flirty with you.”

Trinity pretended she didn’t notice.

“Was she?” Trinity was up and out of her seat before he could say anything else about it.

Dennis might have been right, but for all she knows, he’d do something to jinx it. She just needed to finish out her shift and hope that you’ve completed enough of your own work to agree to go out.

Trinity couldn’t help the grin that spread onto her lips as she smiled at the floor. Already feeling the massive ego boost that she’d gain if she somehow managed to bag the most evil bitch in the building.

10:00 PM

The sun had long set and your paperwork seemed under control for the most part. After a sudden firing and an already planned paternity leave of your colleagues had left you and what remained of the department scrambling to keep up. A knock on your office door had you pulling your head away from your digital work calendar.

You had expected to see Doctor Whittaker, but instead Trinity stood at the door. She had her bag slung over her shoulder, clearly on her way out.

“You’re still here.” She pointed out.

“That I am.” You rubbed at your eyes tiredly.

“Huckleberry fixed his charts.” She raised her right hand. “I even double checked it myself before he submitted, 100% legible- scouts honor.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief, posture relaxing.

“Thank you, so much.”

You quickly busied yourself with double checking the submissions from Doctor Whittaker, ensuring that it gets filed out tomorrow after all the effort you went through to get it today.

“Do Piranhas sleep or?”

“I don’t want to still be here.” You groaned. “I’m salaried anyways, the overtime means nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” Her words surprised you.

“Hm?”

“Dana told me how much work you’ve been putting in this quarter.” She explained. “Almost a one woman show up here.”

There were more empty offices than those occupied on your floor.

“Nina’s been a big help.” You shrugged. You couldn’t take all the credit. “And I don’t mean to be a bitch, I swear.” You laughed.

“This job takes a backbone- I can’t bend rules and deadlines for everyone. And tripling the work doesn’t exactly help.” You sighed. “You get it- Doctoring is hard.”

“I do.” She nodded with a chuckle. “If it’s worth anything I find the bitchiness endearing.”

“That’s sweet.” You giggled, the foreign sound was infectious spreading to Trinity.

“I do believe you still owe me an answer to my question. That is if your eyeballs are still in tact.”

Your head finally dropped, shoulders shaking as you fully laughed and began shutting down your computer. Trinity watched you pack up your bag that was tucked under your desk and pull out your set of matching food storage from the mini fridge to the side. She made a mental note of it because she fully expected to take advantage of it during your work days if this date went well.

“If I’m saying yes, you have to find me a better nickname than a fish.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda cute.” she plucked your lunch bag off the table, leaving you to worry about your purse and work bag.

HAPPY PRIDE 🏳️‍🌈 my goal is to post as much gay shit as i cam this month. first pitt fic,,, i have a few drafted trinity fics that might see the light of day if i’m confident enough ♡ bones

The watchtower was hot. The heatwave had caused a black out. The blackout somehow fried the HVAC system during the power surge. Oscillating fans could only do so much and the windows of the watchtower barely opened for safety purposes. all the team could do was sit and try not to move too much.

Bucky walked into the room, his phone call interrupting the rare, natural peace the team had achieved all on their own, or maybe you all were just overheating. When Bucky cursed under his breath, you decided to looked up from your book.

You and Bob started your own book club after you got benched for a failed mission due to an electrical explosion, which totally could have not been because of you, but who knows? This week you decided to play some kind of sick joke and choose Stephen King’s Under the Dome, 1,080 something pages. Poor bob nearly had a heart attack, but you promised him way more than a week to read and marathon run of the show they made about it before he hesitantly agreed.

“Alright.” Bucky gruffed into his phone’s receiver. his hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, the shorter fringe pieces sticking to the sides of his sweat slicked face. “Thanks, you too.” He hung up the phone with a sigh.

“So… what’s the verdict?” Ava asked.

“Two days.” The entire room erupted into groans.

“Why can’t we get a hotel?” John suggested. His shirt had been discarded long ago, now only wearing a pair of gym shorts. He was laying flat on the tile floor, the coldest place to be. it was also where ava chose to sit and hog one of three fans set up in the room.

“Why? you offering to pay for it, Taco Bell?” You snorted. The nickname appeared after The Sentry folded his shield and he was never living it down.

“Why should i? Barnes’ got a bigger salary than all of us.”

No hotels!” Bucky’s commanding tone was enough to silence them all. “You’re Avengers. If a little east coast heatwave can take you all out then we really are doomed.” He paused, feeling a slight draft behind him. “Close the freezer, Yelena.” Bucky warned. Even with his back to the bar he could see the Russian draped over the bar’s freezer. She groaned before complying with his order, but slamming the cooler door in retaliation.

“You sure you can’t fix it, sparky?” John asked.

“I’m not a fucking engineer.” You rolled your eyes as Yelena wandered back to the couch.

The blonde was clad in a grey tank top and black lounge shorts. Flopping down to take up the remaining space of the two-seater, head on the arm rest and laying her legs across your thighs. You lifted your book to accommodate her legs before lowering your arms back down to her shins and continuing to read.

“Eugh,” she made a face, throwing her head back in disgust. Both of you were instantly aware of the slickness of your combined sweat, but didn’t care enough to move. “This is the worst!” Yelena complained, yet she made no attempt to change her position.

“We’re all hot Yelena.” Bucky reminded her as he finished off his nth water of the day.

“Yes, but my girlfriend is next to me. And she is sticky and wet, but not in the good ways.” She spoke to the ceiling before lolling her head to the side and locking eyes with Bucky.

The others groaned in disgust while you laughed at bucky trying to downplay choking on his last sip of water. Now deciding to neglect your book, you watched her laugh falter and then you watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. The exposed skin of her upper chest and shoulders glimmered with sweat under the bright studio lighting of the tower ceiling. You decided to turn back to your book, because it was way too hot to be allowing your mind wander in that direction right now.

“Why do we even have leather couches?” Yelena moved slightly feeling the stick of the material.

“Easy to clean?” John suggested.

“John, I’ve never seen you clean one thing in this entire room before.” Ava pointed out.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean me.” He snapped before silence enveloped the group for a minute or two. The air is so humid and hostile you almost feared the next person who opened their mouth was gonna get themselves tossed out one of the open sliding doors.

“Has anyone seen alexei?” Ava blurted. they hadn’t spotted the man in a few hours.

“Maybe he’s at the pool.” Bob suggested. He’d been so quiet reading with his back against the cold stone of the wall you forgot he was there

“Isn’t that pool like 80 degrees?” John asked.

“That’s colder than the air, right?”

Yelena chose to ignore Bob’s question, the last thing she wanted was to lash out at someone who didn’t deserve it. She reminded herself that she was just irritated and that Bob was Bob.

“He’s probably off drinking to forget about the heat. I don’t know.” She shrugged her outward shoulder slightly. A pause and suddenly Yelena was sitting up like you had electrocuted her. The sound of her skin peeling off the material of the couch made you internally cringe.

“Yelena, no.” You derailed her train of thought before she could even suggest something.

“Oh c’mon, lyubimaya,” she whined. “you did not even hear my idea.”

“I don’t need to.” You ignore whatever she grumbled under her breath as she continued to stare at the side of your face.

“You have been reading that same page for six minutes.” Her eyes dropped to the page open in your lap.

“I’m distracted.” You side eyed her flipping the page. not because you finished reading it, but to prove a point.

“Am I distracting you?” You made the mistake of fully looking at her. Whisps of her bangs had fallen out of her headband and stuck to her brow. you could see a small bead of sweat dripping down her left temple.

“The team is distracting.” You lied.

“If I have to watch you two flirt in this heat I may actually stroke out.” John jokingly gagged.

“Keep it up you guys.” Ava feigned a cheer.

“I think you all got heat stroke.” Bucky muttered before leaving the team with one final order, “Drink some water.”

It wasn’t a moment later before Alexei appeared in the room like a summoned spirit.

“And where have you been?” Yelena asked her father in an accusing tone.

“Cold shower.” He held up both hands closing his thumb and pointer fingers into a double okay sign. the rest of the team made sounds of acknowledgment, but you could only imagine the future lecture from Bucky about the water bill. You opened you book back up and attempted to read once more.

You managed to get two pages in before Yelena was leaning close to your face,

“Detka, I have a new idea.”

“Of course you do.” You turned to your left, your faces now no more than two inches apart. Her breath didn’t even feel warm against your already heated skin. Her eyes moved to your lips before she jerked back, catching the half empty water bottle that walker just hucked in your direction. That action alone had some deprived part of your brain clicking to life.

“Hey!” She scolded him.

“Get a room.” He hollered. Yelena huffed, and threw her legs off your lap, both of you releasing small twin ow’s at the sweat stuck skin ripping apart. You opened your mouth to complain but she leaned down and ordered you to wait ten minutes before following her.

“You never heard my idea.”

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

While you had tried to think up the possibilities of Yelena’s idea, you actually did not think of this. But here you were, lying on one of her bleach stained towels, back against your mattress.

Yelena straddled one of your legs, sitting comfortably despite the temperature of the room. The hum of that fan that’s been running for thirty-some odd hours straight drowned out whatever playlist Yelena had playing. It was pointed towards the bed and softly blew around the lose wisps of her hair.

Beside her was a metal bowl full of ice cubes.

“Ready?” She asked reaching her hand into the bowl. She took a single ice cube into her hand as she adjusted her knees to straddle your hips.

“Go for it.” You gave her a lazy okay. She grinned and placed the ice cube between your collar bones. You gasped from the cold sensation spreading across your skin, goosebumps prickling down your shoulders and arms.

Yelena dragged the ice between your collar bones and chest, avoiding the hem of your tank top. The ice melted quickly on your heated skin, some soaking your tank and the rest slipping down around your neck. She moved the cube to the center of your sternum, under the tank top before holding her hand over the material. It didn’t take long for the ice cube to melt completely through the warmth of your chest.

Although the ice was startling, the minor relief from the hot air was good enough.

Yelena unceremoniously yanked your tank top down below your breasts. And when you heard some of the threads of the fabric snapping, you scolded her with a gasp of her name.

“Relax, I’m pretty sure this one was mine anyways.” Was.

“I don’t think so.” Your voice pitched upwards into a shriek as she pinched your nipple with cold fingers. “You said you don’t like spaghetti straps.” You recalled catching your breath back.

“I don’t.” Yelena agreed. She didn’t like them. She remembers the conversation you two had about waking up tits out because that type of tank top tends to travel in any given direction while sleeping. It was one of the first times yelena was fully honest with you about something. She didn’t like that vulnerability, being exposed. And you were so understanding, you always were.

So no, she would never tell you that the real reason why she gave you all her spaghetti straps a few weeks after that was the very same reason she hated them. You’d probably call her some sort of pervert.

Dipping her hand back into the bowl, Yelena picked out a new ice cube placing it on the same spot between your collar bones. She dragged the cube in the same path as the first one before sliding it to the opposite nipple she had pinched before. It didn’t feel bad, but it felt strange. Like your brain couldn’t figure out if it hurt with all much sensory input against the air in the room.

You gasped loudly, your hand instinctively moving to grab at her wrist. Yelena was obviously faster than you and she grabbed a hold of your wrist with her free hand instead. Heat flooded your core when she laughed in your face at your attempt to push away. But she held it there until the ice cube was too small to hold in her fingers anymore so she let it melt against your heaving chest.

“C’mon, it must feel nice.” She moved her soaked hand to rub the water across your chest.

“It’s cold.” You wined.

“But it is so hot in here.” She countered. “And you are sweaty. I bet you smell horrible.”

“Yelena!” You gasped in embarrassment. Now trying to wiggle yourself out from under her.

“I am no better!” She laughed, squeezing her thighs around your hips. “It is, like, 40 degrees in here.” You physical strength was almost infantilizing compared to Yelena, and it was too hot to keep up a fight you can’t win.

“I don’t know the metric system, babe.” Maybe your delivery was more snarky than you had intended because Yelena yanked up her your tank top before dropping an ice cube directly to your belly button. You shrieked loudly, your free hand now going for her wrist. She decided to let you grab her, knowing your physical strength alone isn’t enough to move her hand.

“Be careful with your hands detka. You do not want not shock me, again.” You instinctively bucked up against Yelena, your hips twisting to avoid the cold sensation. She only followed and controlled your movements.

By the time the ice cube on your stomach melted, her your tank was nearly soaked through with the combined back sweat against the towel and fitted sheet. She allowed you to sit up and wiggle the material off your arms fully.

Yelena paused briefly, only allowing herself time to admire her girlfriend, but not really allowing you a full chance to recover. Her ice cold hand slipped from it’s spot on your middle and down the below the waistband of your shorts. The cold digits ghosted over your panties and you squealed once again reaching for her.

“Ah-ah, please keep your hands to yourself this time. that was very rude.” Yelena chided, though she understood it was your natural reflex to the cold. She took some sympathy on you and reached for the hem of her own sweat-soaked tank. She peeled it off, leaving her clad in a black sports bra, before she unceremoniously dropped the cotton onto your bare chest. “Since you want something to hold on to.”

She grinned as you immediately gripped the grey article between your fingers. it was damp against your own sweaty palms and it smelt strongly of yelena.

She used the distraction to sit up and pull your shorts and panties down. The sweat coating your thighs working extra hard against her, but winning the struggle with some extra effort from you.

Yelena manhandled you back to where she wanted before straddling you once more. You watched her with wide eyes as she grabbed another ice cube. placing it back against your belly button. You gasped as she slowly brought it down your lower abdomen before holding just above your cunt.

Your lips pressed into a thin line to keep your shrieking to a minimum. Normally she would be against it, after that one time you accidentally bit through your lip hard enough that it bled for more than a few minutes. And yelena would rather drink bleach than sit through another meeting, where mortifying enough, she shared real reason behind the injury and not because they thought you two had some sort of physical dispute. After that incident yelena said no more and called the ego boost collateral.

Her free hand reached to grip your jaw, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to hold you in place. “Be careful.” She warned, feeling your unsteady breaths against her hand as you nodded.

The ice cube was about the size of nickel now and her fingers had long since lost their feeling. Yelena originally was going to let this ice cube fully melt before she got another, but she decided that she was too eager to see your reaction to wait. After shuffling back just ever so slightly to brace for your reaction, she slipped the remains of the ice cube directly beside your clit.

Your entire body seized up, your mouth finally opening in a dramatic gasp. “Oh my god!” You shrieked, repeating the phrase like a mantra. “Lena!” Your legs jerked from under her but the weight of her hips held your knees firmly in place.

When you arched too far off the bed for her liking the hand that once gripped your jaw pushed your chest back down to the bed. Her hand held just below where you still gripped her tank top. “I think you can handle it.” Her voice carried a song to it’s tone.

You shook your head while crying out dramatically, “It’s cold!” Your legs still tried working against her, but she didn’t budge an inch. Her height made her seem unassuming, but she was 5 foot something of solid muscle.

What remained of the ice cube quickly disappeared with the heat from your folds, but yelena kept her hand there. Only giving you a break from the cubes, her nearly ice cold fingers still sliding mindlessly through the added water in your arousal. She selfishly took this time to warm her own fingers back up. You called her name softly as she tucked her thumb around your clit, rolling the bundle around slowly.

“Yes, lyubimaya?” She drawled, not really paying attention to you. She said something else in russian you couldn’t understand before her cold pointer finger was slipping inside of your heat. You gasped, walls fluttering around her digit. She pumped it slowly before adding her middle finger alongside it. She curled her fingers before slipping them out to toy with your clit. Her finger pads moved in steady circles and figure-eights your breathing sped up and your grip on her tank top tightened.

Fearing destruction of the garment, your right arm had reached to grip the nearest item of bedding, which happened to be the white top sheet yelena had pushed over. It didn’t take long for her to make you cum.

While you were catching you breath, yelena brazenly pinched your clit between her knuckles. just because she can. Your hips jerked, unsure if you wanted to run to or from the feeling. “See,” she said simply. “not so bad?” You wanted to protest. To bicker that yes, she was being mean. Her fingers were toying with your clit once more, and any protests died out into moans.

The ice cubes left in the bowl where nearly half melted now, their crystallized edges now smooth and rounded like well-worn sea glass.

You watched her grab the next one. The look in Yelena’s eyes alone should have had you nervous, but your brain had yet to fully catch up.

Without hesitation she slid the ice cube through your folds as your body tried to clench up. But her fingers still pushed through, the ice cube breaching your hole, her two fingers holding it inside you.

You had long since given up attempting to keep quiet. You squealed doing your very best to try and run from her. Yelena chased your hips with her hand, lifting the pressure off your thighs ever so slightly. Even when the ice melted and the water soaked her hand, she kept it in place, just pumping slowly.

Yelena began to rub lazy circles on your clit with her thumb. You moaned loudly, eyes fluttering as your tired body practically hummed with the warm feeling after all of the cold. After she felt you were worked up enough, distracted enough, she effortlessly used a combat move to flip you onto your stomach. Landing with and oof, you turned your face to the side to look back at her.

“Watch it.” You grumbled as Yelena pulled your hips up and back towards her.

“You’re fine.” Was all she had to say before she slotted her knee between your knees. You breath trembled as your clit slid down her thigh.

The feeling from the ice cubes had long left and now your body was warming by the second. “Lena.” You gasped out as she pushed her fingers back through your entrance, using her free hand to help fuck you back into her hand. She used that thigh between your legs to help rock you forwards after the pull back, stimulating your clit.

You were now hot. Too hot. You honestly might pass out. now you were no longer paying attention to anything anymore. Only gasping out into the crumpled sheets below you.

You were so close. Yelena knew it. She could feel it. You’re hips were squirming against her hold now, yet she tried her best to control your rhythm. When she felt it, felt your body seize. She kneed your thighs apart, as far as your hips would go. The hand that had been thrusting now rubbed your clit in short circles prolonging your orgasm. Still cumming, you were so in your own head that you never noticed her pause to each her hand into that metal bowl.

Yelena used her dry hand to push your hips down and open before she shoved the final ice cube inside. You attempted to close your legs, but she had you practically sitting in her lap face down. Then when you tried to pull forward, she yanked you right back into place, keeping your hole plugged with her fingers until the cube melted down.

You’re certain that you had a momentary black out from shock and you almost couldn’t catch your breath. Still yelena didn’t move. She was watching you and waiting for you to move first.

“I think I’m dead.” Was the first thing you said, arms moving slowly to stretch forward above your head.

“I can confirm that you are not.” She rolled you off onto your side, putting the bowl of cold ice water on the night table.

“I think I saw God.”

“And what did she look like?” Yelena’s voice was farther away as she reached around bedding and fished out a water bottle, she knew she had stored somewhere.

“You.” You said with a giggle.

“You are so flirty.” She laughed landing a playful slap on your sensitive cunt. You jolted, but stayed put until she yanked you back to a sitting position. She handed you the uncapped water bottle which you drank greedily.

“Do you think bob would want to get ice cream with us?” Yelena blurted. You blinked.

“Since when did we decide to get ice cream?” Yelena shrugged.

“I don’t know somewhere in the middle.” She made an obtuse gesture with her hands.

You huffed, “I need like twenty minutes and a cold shower.”

ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ

if you’re in hot temperatures wherever you are be sure check up on pals with no ac and remember to DRINK WATER!!!

this would have been up earlier today, but i was victimized by another nap. also this ended up being SO MUCH longer than i had intended. at some point i got way too high and kept on going and going,, also sorting out some sort of master list

♡ ,bones

“I do appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today Miss.” The detective dipped his head respectfully as you entered his office.

“It’s my pleasure.” You offered him a smile. “I’m sure I’m in agreeance with the rest of London that we all wish to see this monster seized as quickly as possible.”

“Right.” He agreed with you. “And given your encounter, I’m sure you’re frightened.”

You nodded, hand reaching your to toy with the broach pinned through your scarf as a display of your nerves.

“He was terrifying.” You admitted, voice choking with emotion. “I swear it was a demon.”

“No demon, Miss.” He offered you a tissue from his desk. “I can assure you s’ no such thing as monsters. Only men.”

You offered him a teary smile dotting your eye with the cloth.

“I suppose I do sound silly.” You admitted. “Speaking of demons, ghosts and ghouls.”

The detective casted you a sympathetic smile.

“You’ve been through a great trauma, dear. It’s only natural for your mind to rationalize such a heinous scene.”

He turned to his notes, clearing his throat.

“So stated that you were walking home last night?”

You nodded along with his words.

“I work managing a house for Ms. Romanova.” You started. His eyebrows raised.

“Were you alone?” He fished for more information. You nodded. The expression on his face soured slightly.

“I usually stray from being out so long after dark. I-I’m restaffing at the moment, so my days have been running quite long with all the extra chores.”

“Such hard work for such a young lady.” His eyes rows raised. “I’m sure she can’t be an easy boss to please.”

“You mistake her character. I love my job more than anything.” You rushed out. You couldn’t dare to imagine your life any other way.

“Right… apologies,” he turned back to the words before him. “You saw the attack?”

“Not all of it. I heard the screams first.”

“You didn’t run away?”

“Occupational reaction I suppose.” You shrugged. “I’ve dealt with gardeners fall on their equipment, seamstresses stitch through their flesh, cooks severing their fingers, I -”

“I understand.” He cut you off. “And you saw this man?” You nodded.

“He had this knife.” You explained raising your hands to clumsily gesture the size. “Yay big. He, he was kneeling over that poor man.” You began to sob, eyes squeezing tight at the memory. The detective gave you a moment to gather yourself before he continued.

“So this man,” he started again. “Can you describe anything about him?”

“He was tall, lean but, not thin. I couldn’t see much in the dark. He had some sort of hat on, I think. I-I really wish I saw more, but when he noticed me I got so scared. I screamed and screamed. People started opening their doors. I think all the commotion scared him off.”

He gave you a look of pained sympathy when he looked up from his notes. Your eyes blurred with tears, hands trembling as you clenched the tissue between your fingers. You sniffed as politely as you could behind the tissue. He could see the distress on your face, your body rigid with tension.

Of course it was all lie.

Your entire story was a twisted fabrication of the real truth. There was no other man present besides the victim. And not only did you witness the crime- but you were an accessory to his murder. In fact, you were the very reason behind why he ended up being lured to that darkened area of the street. You flirted with him then guided him to where your partner waited down an unoccupied alley. Then you stood back and held the real murderer’s jacket as her victim was drained of his life. You then staged his body for discovery while the murderer fled to ensure she had an alibi. The black fabrics of the dress you wore that night had disguised any blood that had spilled upon you before your charade had started.

After your initial interview with the officers, you were escorted home still displaying an act of a traumatized bystander. The detectives waited with you for the head of the house to arrive home- claiming you to be emotionally unstable. Natasha arrived to the house shortly after. The dinner party she was attending was cut short after some of the detectives that were attending had to leave due to the fresh victim of The Ripper.

With all his questions for you seemingly answered, the detective finished up the interview. He apologized for having to make you relive the events of that night, not wanting to cause you any more emotional distress. He offered you his hand to help you stand from his chair as he escorted you from his office. You zeroed in on her location before the crowd of people cleared up.

“Ms. Romanova.” The detective greeted with a surprised look. Your partner stood out amongst the officers and other townsfolk. Natasha carried an inhuman air of beauty. You found her almost impossible not to gawk at.

“Detective,” she gave him a smile as she reached out to you. You clutched the cloth in your one hand as you placed yourself at Natasha’s side.

“It would seem that we are done here.” He informed.

“I hope that I was of some help.” You said meekly. Natasha made a show of hugging your shoulder in comfort.

He nodded. “Of course. I would feel a lot better if you ladies would allow one of our officers to give you an escort home.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Natasha answered for you. “We’ve got a few errands to make before we head home. Maybe take her mind off of some things.” She gave the detective a knowing look, side glancing to you momentarily.

“Very well.” He nodded. “If anything else comes to mind, you let us know. Be sure you two make it home before dark.”

You looped your elbow against Natasha’s arm at the doorway, both of you bidding the fools of Scotland Yard a goodbye for now.

Once you had made it a handful of steps did Natasha speak.

“You did very well.” She praised while keeping her eyes forward.

“Did I?” You peered over to her, excited nerves bundling in your chest. She nodded with a small sound of approval.

“Just like we rehearsed.” A playful laugh erupted from her painted lips. “Your little performance even had me a little teary eyed.”

Warmth bloomed through your chest as she confirmed her prideful admission, a satisfied smile settled onto your features. You wanted to be convincing to the detective. You wanted to be good for Natasha. Selling a half convincing lie to the Scotland Yard and casting suspicion on yourself would only complicate Natasha’s affairs.

Aside from just being something fun to do, Natasha’s goal with the Scotland Yard was to ensure there would never be a possibility of herself becoming a suspect. The Scotland Yard was not a fan of her or any of her acquaintances. They had been circling their affairs for months, but never could find any evidence to link them to anything. If a muster seems to take place while Natasha is with her aquantences and the Scotland Yard- there could be no real link to them. Once their business in London was complete, they could believe whatever they wanted because they would be moving on to a new place.

“We have to stop and see Yelena before we go home.” She changed the subject. “She’s back from visiting Romania and I commissioned her for a gift.”

You had met Yelena before when you first moved to England and stayed in the countryside. Your memories of that time were foggy and hard to catalogue. Natasha explained that you fell dangerously ill and came close to succumbing to the symptoms. Thinking too much about it gave you a headache and your stomach churn. You usually followed her advice to not to dwell on it, but the mentions of her sister’s name had your thoughts deepening. It stirred up a subtle ache somewhere deep in your brain.

You both arrived to her sister’s residence, being greeted by a housemaid at the foyer. She rattled on about notifying Yelena of your arrival before she disappeared from the sitting room. Natasha made herself right at home taking a seat on the expensive couch while you numbly trailed to stand by the arm. She took notice to your altered state peering upwards to your vacant face. Her hand skimmed your back to pull you down, seating you beside her to rest on the arm of the chair. Her fingers toyed with the golden ring on your finger.

“You remember Yelena right? I know it been some time once you’ve last met.”

“When we met...” you trailed off trying to find a way to articulate your muddled thoughts. “I was-”

“I know,” Natasha cooed, affectionately brushing her hand against your cheek. “You weren’t feeling very well. You just needed some fresh air and a little space.” You nodded.

Yelena entered the room, shouting excitedly in Russian at her sister. Natasha stood to greet her, leaving you sat in your place to wait. Your mind wandered back to your time at the cottage. The rampant fever burned away most of your lucid memory of the months you spent there with Natasha. Though, you could remember Yelena visited her sister frequently there. She would make supply deliveries to Natasha- who had refused to allow you out of her sight. The breech of privacy was insisted to be necessary by Natasha. Who were you to know any better?

When they had settled Yelena finally turned her attention towards you, calling out your name to gain your attention. You delivered a polite hello. She looked a little different than you remembered, but still youthful as ever. Her skirt was simple, clearly expensively tailored matched with a dark laced blouse and jacket. Though her hair was pulled upwards and styled, you could tell it was shorter and the red eyes you remember being introduced to were an unnatural shade of muted green.

“She looks good.” Yelena observed, eyes skimming over your face and assessing your healthier build. “Much better than when I saw her last.” Yelena held back a chuckle. Natasha rolled her eyes. Her little sister had never sired anyone before.

“She’s doing well.” Natasha aknowleged while returning to stand before you. She reached her hand out, fingers toying at the delicate trim of your dress’ jacket.

“A little boring.” Yelena noted.

Natasha gave her an unimpressed look, annoyed with her sister’s pestering.

“She’s a person not a dog, Lena.”

“So she’s just being shy?”

They continued to speak about you like you weren’t in the room.

“Your last encounter was at a rather stressful time for her. Trust me, she’s perfect.” Her hand had traveled upwards to neaten your scarf. The praise warmed your chest.

“I can’t say that I’m not jealous.”

All eyes were still trained up upon you. Not only feeling the sudden awkwardness, the slight pressure behind your eyes had turned to a prominent ache. Natasha picked up on your discomfort instantly, the noticeable uptick in your heartbeat was unmistakable.

“Well, you can kindly oogle someone else.” Natasha said playfully, growing possessive of you.

“Alright, alright, no need for the hostility. Let me find your package.” Yelena joked as she strode into the joining room.

“Are you overthinking again?” Natasha asked, hands moving to pet at the warmed skin of your face. “Must be strange meeting Yelena again. Don’t worry about it, you’ll do better next time.”

You nodded with her words, immediately believing her promise.

You returned home just as the sun began to set. The package Yelena had presented was a smaller sized box wrapped neatly in plain paper. It was still in Natasha’s hands as you watched her set it down on the center table of the sitting room.

“So what is it?” You asked again. You had tried to get the answer on your way home, but she refused to supply you with a one. Natasha just smiled at you, enjoying the playful frustration you displayed. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“No,” she drew out the word. “because it’s for you.” The package was pushed your way.

“For me?”

She nodded. Natasha wanted to reward you for your good behavior. Not that it was a problem before, but meeting with the detective was something new. Yelena arriving back in London with the gift just when Natasha was planning to stage a mess for Scotland Yard was purely coincidence. You were a little surprised. Not that she was gifting you something but because you really had no need for gifts. Natasha supplied you with quite literally anything you ever asked for and more. Despite receiving countless gifts from her before you stared at the package in awe.

“Open it, silly.”

You reached for the gift, pulling the strings of twine that tied it together. Once the paper was out of the way you were able to access the lid of the box, removing it to reveal more packing paper. Your eyes shifted up to Natasha who nodded for you to continue. Under the tissue was a neatly folded black silk.

“What is it?” You asked, fingers itching to touch the soft material.

“It’s a dress. Not and outside dress...” Natasha filled you in. “A dress you can wear only for me.”

A smile carved its way onto your face, eyes brightening in excitement.

“Would you like to try it on for me?” Natasha asked.

You nodded taking the box of folded silk into your hands. Natasha gave you a kiss to your cheek, instructing you to stand up. You eagerly lead the way to your chambers, former headache seemingly forgotten. You had already started undressing before she followed in behind you, locking the door.

Natasha’s own hands wandered to your corset and began to unfasten the tightly strung laces. Once it was loose enough she pulled you free from the constricting material. She methodically continued with each layer of your clothing, eventually tossing your dressing gown to mound of fabric laid over the armchair.

From there she helped you into the new dress in comfortable silence. The garment was off the shoulder, exposing your neck and upper chest. Like much of your wardrobe the black coloring was strategic choice to avoid any blood staining. Natasha’s eyes trained onto the healing bites that still lingered at the junction of your shoulder, something usually easily disguised by your clothings’ neckline or scarves. They would disappear completely soon, but not before new markers would take their place beside them.

When she had the material smoothed out and fitting you perfectly she directed you to the large mirror positioned in the corner of the room. You flittered around in half circles to fully see the movement and flow of the fabric.

“Do you like it?” Natasha asked as she admired your pleased expression in the mirror.

“I love it.” You confirmed.

You spun on your heels to face her, Natasha’s eyes followed every movement of your body as you approached crossing the few steps it took to reach her. You immediately climbed up to sit on her lap, arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her hands found placement on your hips, just shy of grabbing your behind.

“Thank you.” You braced her into a tight hug.

“Your manners are so cute,” she giggled. “You know you never need to thank me for gifts.”

“But, you still like to hear it.” You said quietly, lips ghosting over her ear. Natasha simply hummed in response, enjoying your closeness. She could always hear the steady beat of your heart but now with you pressed up against her she could feel it too. Her gums ached more and more as the beat gradually picked up pace with every timed thump.

Natasha pulled far back far enough to gain access to your lips, wasting no time to press hers against you. You folded on an instant, returning the kiss as her hand shifted lower to grope at your ass. Natasha’s fangs had fully exposed themselves now. They throbbed dully in time with every beat of your heart. Your hips stuttered against her thigh as her sharpened canines bit into your bottom lip.

A whine escaped from you as her lips traveled down your jaw, then hovering against your pulse point. Your heartbeat had picked up again, beating steadily in a rhythm accompanied by the rushing blood through your veins. Her lips sealed against your carotid, tongue laving at your warm skin. She felt your body begin to relax under the touch of her hands on your thighs. The skirt of the new dress was now bunched up to expose your skin to her.

You made another sound of displeasure, this time grinding your hips aiming to relieve the forming ache between your legs. Natasha hushed you while cradling the back of your neck with her hand. The hand still placed on your behind guided your hips against. These grinds were deeper this time allowing your bare core to catch on the skirt Natasha wore.

Natasha didn’t care if you soiled her dressings, instead she encouraged your movements, shifting her weight appropriately against you. With the newfound boost of confidence you deepened your thrusts. Your hips messily worked against the coarse material of her skirt dragging along your core.

Your head tipped back farther in an audible moan. She scraped your neck lightly with her teeth, reveling in the way your body eagerly twitched against her. She waited for you to breathe in one more time before she bit down. Your lips parted again as you silently gasped surprise, fingers tightening where they were now gripped on her arms.

When your thoughts came back together, the uncomfortable pressure from her initial bite was soon forgotten as her venom entered your bloodstream. It casted your mind deeper into your lustful haze, you felt yourself grow impossibly more wet. The toxins spread warmth through your veins quickly, tension in your muscles disappearing and falling almost boneless against her. It was not long before your blood began flowing into her mouth. As soon as the taste of you hit her tongue, Natasha was humming in satisfaction.

She greedily gulped down your blood, still using her hands to hold you steady. Your hips had began to move again without her aid, body regaining some of its autonomy back. They twitched at the increased sensitivity with each lazy thrust. The rhythm was out of synch, but still attempting to chase your high.

The time seemed to liquify as she continued to feed off of you. Your inebriated brain cataloged the minutes that passed by like mere seconds. You began seeing sparkles in your vision as you grew more light headed, soon the edges started dimming out. You knew most people should would been worried, but you were not. You trusted Natasha with your life. Enough to know she would release her hold on you before you were in any real danger.

While so lost in your head, you had never noticed when she released her bite. With hands now guiding your hips, finally jolting you out of your haze. Your eyes trained downward to where she was licking up the expanse of your neck, cleaning the blood that that trailed down your cleavage. Now that you could see her, you could also hear her muffled voice in your ears. The timing was off, and the words sounded far and echoey to you.

“What?” You slurred out while fighting off a moan.

Natasha smiled at you with cherry red stained lips, an adoring expression on her face.

“Are you close, sweet girl?” She repeated.

You nodded, head dropping to her shoulder. Her dominant hand left her place on your hips to find its way under the skirt of your dress. The rough material of her skirt was replaced by the softness of her cold fingers against you. Your body jolted in surprise, the chilled temperature of her skin contrasted against your heated folds, but she didn’t allow you to run. Instead, she held you in place circling against your clit at an inhumanly methodical pace. Her strength was overwhelmed yours, preventing your thighs from closing around her.

Your breathing was labored, uneven breaths passing through your lips wile you moaned and whined in pleasure growing in strength as your orgasm approached. Natasha resumed tonguing at your neck and traveling down, this time playfully sinking her fangs into the exposed flesh of your chest. Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning. She worked you through it slowing her ministrations against your clit. She didn’t pull back either allowing you to soak her hand and her skirt while she prolonged your pleasure.

Finally she let up completely, allowing you to come down from your high. You curled yourself against Natasha’s chest, forehead tucking into the crook of her neck to catch your breath. Her hands started gliding aimlessly up and down the expanse of your back. You stayed like that for some time, slumped and comfortable against your lover. The moon had risen into the sky by the time you started to shift around in her lap.

“You okay?” She asked.

“Why didn’t you get a dress made?” You randomly asked, ignoring her question.

“Who said I didn’t?”

“You need to show me immediately.” You ordered, now sitting up filling to face her.

“It’s not done yet.” She laughed at your enthusiasm. “We have to go to Romania for a final fitting still. Where I will commission to have that seamstress make you a dozen of these dresses.” She tugged the dress’ fabric of your chest.

“Deal.”

i’m so sick of shoveling fuck that groundhog and all his circle of goons. also fuck the US men’s hockey team fr fr. divas be sure to support our lovely gold winning ladies and watch the pwhl