the queens favorite fuck doll

desiring the attention of the queen was not easy.

even if you were her wife.

no matter how antsy you moved in your chair, or how many times you shot her the look during counsel meetings, she barely spared you a glance. and gods above, was it frustrating. you wanted nothing more than for her to look to you and only you with her striking eyes. to pin you down on the table and just - show the members of her small counsel who you belonged too.

but alas; ever since she'd come into power as the queen of the seven kingdoms, she'd barely had time for you. occasionally, you'd be able to sneak your way into her bed, but even then - those nights were few and far between because you'd usually be turned away by her guard due to her stressful days.

and so today, as you lounged back lazily against the very uncomfortable chair in the counsel room - your eyes tracked your queen as she listened intently to the words of her hand, nodding occasionally.

you bit back a pout. no, you couldn't be seen this desperate for your queens attention - though it was quite obvious.

rhaenyra, for her part, pays you little attention. you rarely contributed to these sessions of idle war talk and planning, and she usually just kept you around so you didn't whine amongst the maidens and knights of the kingdom. but in turn, she'd made you bored. bored and desperate for even a look.

hesitantly, you leaned closer at the table - subtly enough for no one to see as your hand caught hers gently under the table.

she didn't show her reaction, but her eyes glanced to you in warning. very brief, and over in a few moments, as she resumed listening to a plan from mysaria. mysaria - gods, she irritated you to no end, always flaunting herself to your queen and shooting you glances when you would speak. as if you weren't rhaenyra's wife.

your hand squeezes rhaenyra's softly, brows raising slightly.

she tugs her hand from yours.

your hand thus - balls into a fist as you huff quietly, glaring away. at your side, a maid gently approaches when you wave quietly, voice lowering in a murmur. "draw me a bath - hot, if you could."

"of course, my lady," the maid speaks gently, eyeing your hand before lowering and grabbing the small plate lingering infront of you with a gentle smile. "it shall be ready in the hour."

you give a soft nod, looking away at your lap briefly, and then back up. but this time - this time rhaenyra's eyes are locked on you. she's quiet, still listening to her counsel members, but she tilts her head faintly at you.

and you? you roll your eyes and look away.

---

rubbing your muscles slowly, you sigh back into the bath - eyes closed as you linger, leaning lazily. it had been twenty since the meeting ended, and ten since you'd gotten into the tub, but even still the water provided a soft solace that you apparently couldn't seek within your wife's arms.

a low whine escapes you.

you were all sorts of pent up - a dull ache between your legs that you tried to quell by rubbing your thighs together - but it simply did not work. your hand slinked down dangerously, rubbing your tummy and brushing down and meeting your abdomen before -

"the queen requests your presence in your chambers."

you blink, hand drawing away as your eyes open and look toward the guard by the door, awkwardly looking away.

a huff escapes your lips. now she wants me, you think, rolling your eyes and standing. the water sloshes around a bit, some spilling as maids rush to you, quickly wrapping you and patting you try as you step out, and then into a simple knight gown they'd prepared. your steps slap softly wet against the red keep's floors as you're led to your chambers, and when you enter-

you almost down see her.

but then your gaze lacks with piercing amethyst colored eyes, and a shiver rolls through you. "...yes?"

"do not address me in such manners."

you swallow thickly, irritation flickering. "yes, your grace?"

rhaenyra's head cocks as she stands, slow as she begins to circle you - her head tilting quietly as she takes you in. her movements eerily mimic that of her dragon, syrax. a shiver rolls through you, and you follow her movements - making her lips twitch slightly as she moves forward, ghosting near you but not touching.

"your little..scene in my counsel meeting was.." she searches for a word, her tone low as she leans in - a whisper brushing against you. "...childish."

"don't," you huff. "you've been ignoring me for weeks."

"I am your queen." she mutters, hand slapping slightly against your hip. you yelp and glare, and she raises her brows dangerously. "you look to me aghast? you embarrassed me in front of my small counsel, and openly batted those pretty lashes at a maid."

irritation swells within you, and you whip around, huffing in anger. "do not speak of embarrassment, when you hang on every word of that...mistress you think so highly of."

rhaenyra hums, her face nothing shy of dominant smugness. "that's what you cling to? the way I listen to a member of my counsel? need I remind you that you needn't be in the room to begin with? I simply allow such because you do nothing but pout and whine when I am so much as a foot away."

"you have not touched me in weeks! I am your wife!"

"and I am your queen!"

you silent, glaring weakly at her.

her gazes flicks across your face, and then she moves to the bed. "lay. now."

you blink. "oh, now you want-"

"did I ask for your voice? I think not."

your face flushes in anger, and your hands shake as you walk over, moving to lay on the bed - but rhaenyra grabs your arm before you can, and roughly throws you over her lap. your breath hitches, and you look back just as her hand cracks down against your bottom with a hard slap - slightly muffled from the fabric of your dress.

"what are you-"

"silence." rhaenyra growls, grabbing the fabric and ripping it up - exposing your bare bottom. you squirm, and she smirks, palming the flesh slowly. "you want your queen's attention this badly? then you shall reap what you sow."

and then, she raises her hand and slaps it down against you again.

this time you yelp as the sting resonates throughout your body, sharp and electric like the clap across the room. you whimper, tears prickling your eyes at the sensation. but rhaenyra doesn't quit - she raises again, and again. smack after smack after smack. they each echo across the walls of your chamber, and no doubt past that, your soft cries lifting through the red keep as you squirm.

rhaenyra scoffs lowly. "you squirm so, but your cunt is slick with desire. filthy brat, you know better."

another rough clap sends you sputtering weakly. "p-please rhaenyra-"

"that is not my title."

a wave of cold humiliation drenches. you, as she slaps again. "ah..!" a sharp whine. "m-my queen, please..! I only wished to be- be touched by you.."

"is that not what I am giving you?"

slap.

"are you ungrateful too?"

slap.

"or would you prefer I get the maiden to touch you so?"

slap. slap. slap.

you're sobbing, breath hitching messily as you try to speak but fail - babbling nonsense against her with each hard crack of her hand down against your sore bottom. it's reddened by now, pulsing something dangerous and there was no doubt in your mind it would be sore by tomorrow and throb in a dull pain for the rest of the night.

rhaenyra breathes through her nose, reaching and gripping your chin, wrenching you up with a low noise. "I do so love to see your face puffy with tears, do you sob for your queens touch?"

you whimper, but know better - and so weakly you nod, sniffling messily in a way that makes her face slightly scrunch.

her hands then move to your hips, lifting you and sitting you down hard on her lap. the cold leather makes your rear ache, the sharp contrast easing a hitch of your breath as you sob messily. rhaenyra rolls her eyes, lowering her hand and palming your sex. "you drench like a whore." she mutters, fingers slipping easily into you.

your hips buck, something akin to a moan escaping your strangled throat as she rubs your walls. and then -

"bounce."

you suck in a. breath, but obey, wincing each time your hips raise and slam you back down, sucking her digits into your warm, wet heat with a vigor that makes even she suck in a low noise as she watches your tits bounce softly through your nightgown. with little effort - one hand tears it off, and she leans in, biting a pert nipple in between her pointed canines. a hiss escapes your lips - but you fight your words back, continuing to bounce on her fingers.

her other hand grips your thigh, but drifts, thumbing your clit in a firm touch as she tugs off your nipple, rubbing against you. "look at you," she huffs. "thrusting down on my fingers like the common whore. shall I send you to a brothel instead?"

you tighten at the thought, and she scoffs, drawing you closer. "already? you want to cum? gods, you're so disappointing."

her head shakes as she draws her hands away, fingers slipping out with a wet pop. you sputter, whimpering instantly and looking down at her in pain. "m-my queen please-"

"no," rhaenyra speaks simply. "you think you can behave in such ways and reap rewards after?"

you pout instantly, tears still wetting your cheeks but no longer falling. "p-please my queen..I..I'll be good."

"will you? I find it hard to believe."

she guides you slightly, planting your cunt square onto her leg. a whimper escapes you, as she leans back - one hand holding your hip and slowly brushing you back and forth - clit dragging beautifully against the rough fabric of her dress. you sharply intake breath, looking at her in disbelief as she so easily pushes you.

"go on," she mutters. "rub like the filthy mutt you are. work for it."

and gods above-

you do.

your hips give shallow thrusts, moans tumbling from your lips like sacred prayers as you move quickly - edging yourself closer and closer to release. rhaenyra leans back watching you with a low gaze - but her chin tips up slightly, and she whispers.

"stop."

a noise of protest escapes, as your hips stagger to a stop, your chest slamming up and down with weak pants. she smirks, reaching down and toying with your clit again - slower. agonizingly slow.

"do you wish to cum?" she speaks.

you nod frantically.

"will you be good from here on out?"

another nod.

"shall I cut off the head of the maiden that you spoke with?"

you stop, looking to her wide eyed - and she simply tilts her head. and slowly, you hesitate..but nod. her smirk widens. "rub."

your hips are moving again before you even process her words - and her hand slips away - giving you space to rub quickly against her and lead yourself up to your brink. which you do almost instantly. upon being giving explicit permission, your hips are like the beat of a dragon's wings, and a low rumble escapes your queen as you soon crash against her, spurting against her thigh.

"a-ah.."

she coos, her hand landing on your back as you collapse into her.

"there we go...what did we learn?"

a weak whimper. "I-I won't..push for your attention again when you're busy."

"and?"

"I won't try to make you jealous."

rhaenyra's eyes glint.

"there's my good girl. I knew you would crack."

and you're too weak to say anything back.

rhaenyra's brows pinched together in what could only be irritation as she retired to her chambers at the end of a very long first day. if having rats roaming her castle wasn't enough, she then had to deal with being deceived by alicent's cousin, ser corlys and his illegitimate-turned-legitimate heirs, and of course daemon and mysaria bickering ontop. who knew finally taking on the iron throne would bring this much stress?

a slow sigh escaped her lips as she stared ahead into the reflection of her mirror, hands smoothing down her nightgown. hands that weren't her own.

"are the silks to your liking, your grace?"

rhaenyra spared a hum, glancing to you in the mirror. "they are. where have you dug these up, mm?" her eyes, despite being tired, give a small playful glint in their amethyst hue. "have you stolen them, perhaps?"

your cheeks flush at the accusation. "of course not, your grace!"

your queen chuckles, turning around and shaking her head. "be calm. I only jest," her eyes flit over you, and she murmurs. "you served while I was gone, yes?"

you nod very gently. "er, yes."

rhaenyra hums, reaching forward and tracing a bit of your attire, watching you tense like prey. "did you serve alicent faithfully, too?"

"I.." your hands tremble a bit as hers work at the tie of your gowns apron, flimsy as it was, and your breath hitches when it slowly falls apart. "...yes, your grace." you speak honestly.

rhaenyra's eyes flit to yours, and then she nods ever so slightly to her bed. "lay."

"your grace-"

"lay."

your fumbling to her bed in a matter of seconds, weakly laying down on her bed. but before that, your simple loose dress slips down your shoulders, and rhaenyra aids in tugging it away slowly and tossing it aside. she circles, watching you closely as you lay on your back in just your simple underskirt, and a flimsy piece of cotton encasing your breasts and hiding your sex.

but your queen has the nose of a dragon.

"you're aroused." she muses, slipping into the bed.

your chest hammers at the sight alone. her braid was undone, leaving those pristine white locks cascading down her side like the fog of a waterfall. she leans in slightly, thumbing the fabric binding your chest. "you will do what your queen asks of you, yes?" a weak nod, and she hums with a low cock of her head. "words."

"yes..your grace.."

"good. clothes off."

the fabric around your chest is tugged off, along with the remainder of your small clothes - leaving you barren on her bed. your queen licks her lips slowly, sighing and glancing up to you. "I shall see that you a heavily rewarded for this...gift, you've so graciously bestowed upon your queen."

and you barely push out the syllables of words before her lips descend like searing blades across your skin, kissing down your collarbones and nippling lowly at the buds of your breasts, before eventually settling between your legs. a heavy flush takes over your face, and your hands are quick to shyly cover your face as you peek down at her. "y-your grace.."

"yes?" rhaenyra speaks, parting your legs ever so slowly. this time, when she puffs out warm hair - similarly to that of her dragon - you shiver as it hits your sex. "look at you, barely touched and already dripping like a good little maiden for your queen..." you gasp breathlessly, hips raising dangerously closer. "p-please, your grace.." "hush now," she tuts, leaning and pressing kisses along your thighs, dangerously nearing your lips with each slow brush. the ripples of arousal shoot through you like sparks from a fire, and you weakly push closer to her again - though this time, you're met with rhaenyra's lips slowly closing around the small pearl at the top of your cunt, making a slow sucking motion on it before her tongue gives it a low swirl, and dips fully into you.

with a whine, your hips raise instantly, begging for more the second she begins to explore your folds with an expertise she must have only gotten from years of practice.

the thought alone spurs the hot coil in your tummy.

your queen's tongue laps slowly through your cunt, her own eyes slipping shut as a groan of pleasure elicited from her throat - feeling like a low rumble as she continues to lap at you like a dog cleaning its chops. you shiver at the noise, weak noises leaving you in an instant, hips sputtering weakly. her hands reach to wrap around, nails diffing into your hips as she holds you down, taking her time with her meal.

your arm weakly raises to hide your gaze as you lean back deeper into her pillows, mixed in the throws of ecstasy at your queens command.

she pulls off slowly, licking her lips as her hand shifts just a bit, thumb rubbing your clit with slow persecution. "does it feel good? being ravaged by your queen?" she sighs appreciatively. "you respond so well.."

a weak moan tumbles as your hips raise up further into her touch, pressing against her thumb and practically grinding your clit on the pad of her thumb.

rhaenyra's eyes darken at the sight, and she doesn't wait for a reply as she leans back in, moving her thumb and sucking the ball into her mouth as her fingers reach, parting your folds a bit. her ring and middle press together, rubbing the rim of your entrance slowly, feeling as your walls flutter in wanton. she half wondered if alicent touched your sweet body like this too - but oh, it didn't matter now.

your body belongs to your queen now.

with renewed strength, she moves her hand up, slowly pushing inside of you. you whine, back arching as your hips raise and your head tilts back, accepting her fingers greedily.

rhaenyra purrs, continuing to lick your clit as you thrash about, her fingers fucking into you quickly and desperately, pushing you quick to your release. your whines come out sharper, louder, and your queen makes a noise of approval - fingers scissoring inside of your wet heat and making you moan abruptly as she presses a particular part of you, and makes you cum with a jolt.

rhaenyra's lips pull off your cunt, her tongue darting out to wet them as she moves back up your body, swatting your arm off your eyes and kissing you greedily.

you melt into the searing kiss, whimpering lowly as your arms loop lazily around her neck, body all boneless. and rhaenyra simply leans in deeper, her jaw shifting as she slips her fingers out of you and focuses now on pouring her attentions to you.

finally, with a slow breath - she pulls back, panting and looking down at your wrecked form. those beautiful eyes narrow slowly.

"...you belong to me," she rasps. "my...head maid. alright?"

and weakly, you nod.

You noticed it.

The first time was when she was addressing her small council; you peeked under the thick arm of her personal guard, a gold cloak that wouldn't be permanent. He held Daemon in high regard, only succumbing to his Queen at the behest of the Rogue Prince, so you always kept him in the corner of your eye as you watched Rhaenyra move through the Red Keep.

She didn't jump out of her skin as the rat scurried across her foot, just raised her leg up and slightly yelped. You noticed the disappointment etched onto her face as she walked from the room and into the great hall.

When her monthly bleeding came, the words she uttered frightened you half to death. Being around your Queen was tense—she was tense—leaving Dragonstone ushered a sense of normalcy with how true this was for not only you, but for Rhaenyra, too.

As the pressing issues continued to quell your Queen, her distance from you grew.

You weren't far when you heard lord Corlys' outburst, calling out not only Rhaenyra's honor but the legacy of her boys, her dead boys who she loved and cherish all the same. Corlys kept his head, along with his life; Rhaenyra seemed horrified but you saw more within her eyes. You saw a lingering grievance aching to be let out, with an anger stuck deep within her heart.

It appeared again after another small council meeting. She called it off, claiming it to only be because of cramps.

It came up again when a disheveled dragon keeper rushed towards her, delivering unfortunate news. You couldn't follow it all, since you couldn't understand High Valyrian too well, and you were in the middle of throwing half of the Greens banners into a flaming pile.

You did catch Rhaenyra skulking around the flames with an intense eye contact that made your stomach pool with want, eager to give her whatever prophetical wish she wanted granted within those flames.

No. She was officially Queen now. She kept you in the dark; you had to respect her wishes. Regardless of how much you wanted to hold her, regardless of how drab Dragonstone was, it was a different realm than Kings Landing. Rhaenyra was different now.

"Y/N?"

You glanced up at the flames, finding Rhaenyra next to you. She was always captivating, although the nearby flames gave her silver Targaryen locks a yellow twinge, accentuating like the tip of a lit fire.

You bowed your head. "Y-Yes, your grace?"

Rhaenyra smiled, a quick quirk of her lips. She gently took your wrist as she got in your space to whisper. "Come with me."

You had no time to follow as she marched you all the way to her private chambers. Once you got to the door, Rhaenyra let you go in order to talk to her personal guard, who followed close, akin to loud shadows.

"Give me my privacy, ser," she ordered. "I'm more than capable for an hour of peace."

The guard nodded, bowed and left.

Rhaenyra pulled you inside, the tenderness she had seeped away, just a bit due to the tension at her fingertips.

Her room was neat, up kept due to the constant tending you and her other ladies-in-waiting do for her throughout the day. Once the door was closed, sealing you and Rhaenyra alone together for the first time since she sat the iron throne as queen.

She paced the room, played with her rings; the sight had slightly dizzy, the fire from earlier exhausted you. You sat and watched her.

"Why must the Gods test me so?" she muttered. "Should I rule as my father did or bring down fire and blood as my ancestors did, they wouldn't challenge me. They wouldn't deceive and--"

"Your grace."

Her head snapped up to you, stopping her mid sentence. She stalked over, eyeing you heavily like the dragon she commanded, forcing you to slide away from her.

Rhaenyra caught you by the arm before you could completely leave her reach. She stroked your arm delicately, all while staring at you, entrapping you in those purple, valyrian eyes.

You knew what it meant, thighs pressing together at the attention. It's all you truly wanted, moreso, you desired to break away from that thich mast of depression that clung to your Queen since she lost her daughter--now lingering more since the loss of her sons.

"Y-Your grace?" you asked again.

Rhaenyra twitched. She brought up at hand, stroking your face. "My sweet girl, you've been more than loyal to me for the past few years," she said, lips quirking up in a tiny grin. "Maybe I should have sought your council."

Being able to finally lean into her touch again was glorious. She hadn't been this careful in days, focused on anything without a slip of that mask she formed to hide her fear and grief.

"What should I do, hm?" she said. "Should I remain civil to Alicent, appease and get ready for whatever game Ormound Hightower is playing in Tumbleton, or should I just burn it all. Burn all of my enemies as Daemon wished, as what my heart bellowed since my own daughter and father were taken from me? As did the sons who perished for me to sit on that accursed throne of swords?"

Rhaenyra clasped your hands in her own now, squeezing tight. She spoke to you, clearly, yet you still believed they were geared to herself and her personal council. You weren't completely sure what she should do. Tumbleton shouldn't burn, yet Alicent being in her ear only brought her trouble. Rhaenyra was queen however, she didn't need your council or anyone else's to do what she thought was true and absolute. She did need to grieve though; she need to remove that mask.

"Y/N?" she tilted your chin up with her finger. "Are you listening?"

You nodded. "O-Of course, your grace. But do you really need my council?"

Rhaenyra chuckles humorlessly. "I wouldn't be asking so if I didn't."

You bit your lip and decided to be honest. "You should do what you think is right, my queen--"

Rhaenyra blinked. "What I think is...right?" she spoke slow, like the words were foreign on her lips.

You unwound your hands from her own and pressed one of them against her chest. The beats of her heart were steady, as it was when you laid with over the past few months.

"Your father made you heir and, as you said, you need not want your sons--your children dead for nothing," you explained.

Rhaenyra's gaze stayed on you, narrowing while her hand worked up and around your arm, caressing your shoulder. She said nothing else, prompting you to do the same as she silenced you with a deep kiss. She was rough, body flush on yours, pushing you to lay on your back.

"Would you feel a way of me, hm?" she whispered. Your queen laid a trail of kisses down the base of your neck. "If I incinerated our enemies, would that scare you?"

Her words carried a heavy weight, though cavalier in her tone; it was as if Daemon spoke them, not the woman who only ever offered you sweet words, tender touches.

At your hesitation, Rhaenyra's hand went up to take your throat, lightly, but still there.

"Tell me, sweet girl," she commanded.

Her voice went deeper, hoarse, a definite command; your thighs pressed together again. Rhaenyra noticed this time, smiling slyly.

"Does that excite you?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "N-No your grace--"

Rhaenyra pressed her finger tips on your throat, still slight but you felt her more. "Don't lie, please, don't lie."

You hadn't dared to, not with the desperation in her voice or the way her purple eyes searched your face for an answer.

"Yes. Yes, it does, my queen."

Rhaenyra growled, the act akin to Syrax as she tapped your side. "Turn around."

You flopped onto your belly and Rhaenyra's hands clung to your hips before clawing and tearing at your dress. Her mouth found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the back of your neck while her hands moved lower, dipping into the fabric of your undergarments.

"Please," you groaned.

"Mmh, all you have to do is tell me, sweet girl," Rhaenyra whispered. She paused to suckle at your pulse point, forcing you to jerk in her arms. "Tell your queen what you want, otherwise, I'll take my sweet time...I missed these breasts on purpose."

Her hands moved to cup your breasts, squeezing and twirling the nipple slowly.

"Please! Touch me!" you moaned.

Rhaenyra grinned against your skin. "I am, Y/N. As you wanted," she said, accentuating each word with a roll of her finger across your nipple. "Perhaps you should be clearer with your demands."

She played with your chest more, making it difficult to answer. With a huff of breath at your ear and those familiar fingertips at your throat, Rhaenyra whispered. "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough myself."

Her voice went to those deep depths again, hitting you straight to your core. "Y-Your fingers my queen. I need them inside," you said, nearly sobbing.

Rhaenyra kissed your ear. "Rina syz."

Your hips jerked involuntarily at the valyrian being spoken so close. Rhaenyra chased, dipped her hand below the fabric, moaning at your already dampened cunt.

"Ah, dreje ilzyna iksa," she groaned, moving along your slick.

She was slow like before when she had you against the table at Dragonstone, eliciting noises from you that would rival any common whore of Kings Landing while she fingered you to release.

This time was different. Once she pushed in, she found your clit and rubbed there fast, hard and in a dizzying rhythm that nearly brought you to release. Your hand found her wrist to signal the building towards your peak.

"Not yet," Rhaenyra purred, switching back to the common tongue. "Face me, now."

You faced your queen again.

A deeper kiss was pressed to your lips. "Beautiful," she said, pulling back to take in your frustrated face. She moved from over top of you aback to the beds center, bunching up her gown and skirts to reveal her toned thighs. "Ride me."

You kissed her, now being the one to rip and tear, pull at her dress until it was pooled to the floor.

Rhaenyra shook her head, smirking as she tipped your head up to kiss you once again. "Ajorraelenka."

You straddled her thigh, wrapped your arms around her neck and watched your cunt glide on her porcelain thigh. She flexed it gently, the quick move taking the breath from the base of your throat. Your queen did it again, rougher this time, bouncing her leg while trapping you in her arms, groaning at your scent.

All you felt was Rhaenyra. She hit your center perfectly; with each bump, you threw your head back, clutching the skin of her neck tight, sighing. You hid the loud sounds in Rhaenyra's silver locks, hoping not to alert any of her guards or the ears of the Red Keep.

"Is this not enough, sweet girl?" Rhaenyra said against your skin. She pulled back from your neck to snake her hand down, pushing two fingers inside. "I want to hear all your noises."

Her fingers curled while her thumb tapped your pulse just right, eliciting a louder moan. You cut it off though, burying your face into her chest.

"Toli jaelan," she growled, pushing you back against the bed. She sunk to the edge, pulling off your soaked underwear. "Moan as much as you need."

Just the visual of your queen positioned between your legs had you jolting up towards her. She chuckled lowly, mouth meeting your succulent mound. She wasted no time in lapping at your sweet folds, groaning at the taste while her fingers worked beautifully at your center.

"Rhaenyra!" you moaned, gripping her hair.

Rhaenyra pulled back, your essence coating a string connecting her mouth and your cunt. "There's my sweet girl," she groaned. "Fuck, you tightened up at that. Maybe if I..."

Your queen shifted up, pressing her body against you while one hand fingered you and the other laced around your throat, slightly curling. A gasp broke from you. The heat that pooled in your belly grew tighter at Rhaenyra's rapid succession until...it exploded.

"Fuck," you yelped, cumming all over Rhaenyra's fingers.

Usually Rhaenyra's hands would gather up your face, pampering you in sweet words and caresses after while cleaning you up.

Instead, Rhaenyra lifted your leg slightly to pin it against her hip, driving her own cunt against your own; her own juices mixed in a dangerous sympathy along your own to prompt more noises from the both of you.

"I'll take Tumbleton," she moaned. The sensation of her wetness, the sound of it moving along blurring your vision. You shut your eyes, only for Rhaenyra's hand to squeeze along your throat. "Look your queen in the eye while she's speaking."

You did as you were told: hypnotized by the passions Targaryen's were known for. Rhaenyra's mouth agape, purple eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body; your breasts that flopped with each move of her hips, your pulse that kept just under her fingers. You were at the mercy of Queen Rhaenyra and you adored every moment of it.

"I've been too lenient with my enemies, my subjects," she said, rutting harder against you. "I've forgotten the blood that runs through my veins, I do have six dragons. More than the conquerors before me."

Her fingers slipped against your cunt again, finding you tighten around her fingers again.

"Ah, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra whimpered. "This excites you, doesn't it? A Targaryen fucking you. Your Queen commanding your body as she does her entire realm?"

You nodded, lost in the sensation; her words brought you towards the brink yet again.

"So pliant under me," she purred. "If I were a man, I'd fill you just like this. You'd accept, wouldn't you? The realm would have something to fear then, I'll raise an army of bastards, as many as I want."

The thought got you there, cumming yet again; Rhaenyra gasped at the wetness that squirted across her own mound and tummy. Her movements hadn't let up as her hand moved from your throat and into your hair.

"Answer me," she commanded, tilting your head up. "Would you carry your Queen's babes? Join me and my husband in our quest to rule the entire realm for centuries?"

"Y-Yes!" you moaned. "Yes, your grace!"

Rhaenyra's body tensed up, connoting her release.

She fell atop of you, exhaustion melding well into your body. It gave you time to ruminate on her words; had she really believed her boys to be bastards? You turned over to watch your queen as she rolled off your body to sit on the bed's edge.

The mask was back, albeit, a new one. This one had heavy regality with ridges of self confidence that drained her days after the death of her eldest.

"They would be yours regardless," you said, wrapping your arms around her waist. "They would be loved, just as you loved your other boys. They are yours, no matter what the realm would say."

The first time you stir it’s to the sensation of being carried. “Krypto I’m moving as fast as I can.” Kara snaps at the dog, although her voice is hushed, “she’s fine buddy.”

Your head would argue otherwise. Did you really just pass out? Could a handful of shots of whatever really do that to you? “Define fine.” You rebuke as you move.

You feel both of you sway a little as your weight shifts, but Kara’s grip tightens around you. She’s carrying you bridal style to the ship, and you can smell the alcohol on her breath as the sounds of the bar fade behind you.

“You’ll live.” She says, but her voice isn’t as blunt as the first time you really spoke. It’s almost joking.

You remember that you basically went dark on your family and inhale sharply as you envision what will befall you tomorrow. Somehow despite the lingering dread you don’t regret coming with her. “Yeah no I won’t. Not when…” You don’t finish your thought.

She doesn’t push, and you feel your head spin as you work to keep it upright. “Sorry.” She says, and when you peer up you notice that she seemingly refuses to look down at you. “Forgot that the liquor out here is stronger than on earth. Probably should have gotten you to slow down.”

You shrug one shoulder and stare up at the sky. “I can walk.” You say suddenly, aware that she’s still carrying you despite your new found consciousness.

She stops, and you can almost see the doubt in her gaze. But you hate being told you can’t do something, you get it from both of your parents, and so with a small glare from you she begins to let you down. When your feet touch grass and go to move a step your world tilts again causing you to groan out in misery. You hear her laugh beside you and let your eyes narrow in mock anger at her.

She’s gently sweeping you up again. “I’m strong remember?” She says.

“Mhm bet you tell all the girls that.” You see her lips turn down. “Or guys.” You amend. Her nose scrunches up.

“No, girls.” She replies. “Although I really don’t—it’s been a while since...” She doesn’t finish, but she sets her jaw in a way that tells you that’s more from not wanting to continue than not knowing how to.

“I’m so embarrassed.” You say. “I didn’t even last that long.” She laughs again.

It’s more laughter than you thought you’d evoke from her, but it easily becomes a favourite sound of yours. She appears younger, lighter, when she does.

“An excuse to do this again.” You still in her grip as you see the ship come into view. Krypto barks and goes ahead of the both of you, but the antics of the dog don’t even phase you because you’re so focused on what she just said.

Did you hear that right?

“Again? Thought this was a one time deal?” You ask, and you can’t even pretend to be nonchalant about it. It makes you almost giddy to have her say it. Even though she won’t look at you while she does.

“Clark says I need friends on earth.” She shrugs and you feel your body grimace at the word. Friend. You’d take it, if means seeing her and getting away from your life once in a while, but it still stings just a tad.

When you’re in the ship she places you on the bed, Krypto hopping up after you and settling down onto your lap.

“I’ll get you back as quick as possible.” She says as she drops off a glass of water.

The second time you stir it’s to the sound of Kara lecturing her dog again. You’re beginning to gather this is a multiple times a day type of occurrence between the two of them.

“Krypto enough! Don’t go out there! I don’t have money for her fancy pillows if you ruin them.”

You can feel your lips lift despite your woozy state, but you’re not really coherent enough to be alert, or in full control of your body movements.

Instead you feel yourself being set softly onto a bed while your phone and other things are set beside you on the nightstand. You infer Kara merely used your key fob to get into your penthouse.

You expect her footfalls to retreat, but instead you just feel something plop onto your legs and settle. “What are you doing now?” You hear a huff and you know it’s Krypto. There’s a very long pause as if the two silently communicate.

“I can’t stay and neither can you buddy. I’m not getting caught by Bruce Wayne.” She whispers. Then she shifts you, takes off your shoes, and makes sure you’re on your side. “Don’t look at me like that.” She mutters.

When she’s done you can hear her footfalls towards the direction of your window, but Krypto doesn’t leave your side at all, and you hear a soft groan.

“Come on.” Kara urges quietly, and your mind swims towards sleep again. You want to push it off, to talk to her, but no words find their way. “Krypto I can’t okay?”

There comes a little whine but the dog jumps off from your bed leaving you to hold out just long enough to hear your window shut behind her.

When you stir for the third and final time the first thing you register is the pounding in your head, and you can’t help but wonder what the hell Kara gave you to drink, champagne never hurts this much. The second thing you register is that you’re home, with your window open to let in some fresh air, and you work to remember last night.

The third and final thing you register is the smell of food, and for a fleeting moment you wonder if Kara came back even though it’s irrational to think she would.

The smell makes your stomach churn miserably, and you’re up and stumbling for the bathroom before you can even think about it, stomach lurching into your open toilet. A pathetic sound escapes you as you try to calm your uneasy stomach.

“Fuck.” You whine as you feel about to heave again.

“That’s what will happen when you drink too much.” Your heart sinks a tad when your mother’s voice rings out in your on-suite. “Shower please and we’ll talk after.”

You wince. “Ma’ma I—”

“After.” She says firmly, and goes. You hear the clatter of plates a moment later. The shower does help you feel at least not so hungover, and you have to admit it feels nice to feel clean again, but it does little to soothe your screaming nerves.

When you leave your room, dressed and somewhat presentable, you whiten as you see that Bruce is in your kitchen too. In fact he’s the one that’s cooking, although it’s merely a bagel and some scrambled eggs. You don’t think you can stomach either at the moment.

Both your parents seem deep in conversation, but like the bat and cat they are, your slightest footstep alerts them to your presence. Both look up from what they’re doing, and meet your gaze, unable to hold their eyes you look away.

“Morning.” You say.

“Try afternoon.” Bruce corrects and you grimace as your eyes cast to the clock above your stove. Three in the afternoon to be exact. This only makes your stomach drop even more as you realize you missed classes, and your volunteer efforts.

“Shit.” You curse.

“Yes, well, darling what did you expect would happen when you went out and drank yourself drunk?” Selina says.

“I didn’t mean—” You begin.

“First of all, lets establish what exactly you didn’t mean to do, because we’re still unclear where you were.” Bruce says evenly. “All trace of you just gone! Barbara went into a panic.”

You flinch at that thought. You know how protective she is, and how fast she can make things happen. “I’ll apologize to her. I didn’t mean to make her worry. Or you two.”

You try not to focus on your own frustration right now, after all it’s not like you don’t know Barbara keeps track of you, she keeps track of everyone, but it grates on you more than normal right now.

“Still didn’t answer us.” Selina says and you twist to look at her before exhaling.

“I went out on a spur of the moment type thing and left my watch here by accident and then my phone died and—”

Both your parents tense and that’s when you know your lie didn’t work. “Try that again.” Bruce warns you, but you’re too focused on the pounding in your head.

Your mother seems to see this, and pushes forward water and pain meds. “Thanks ma’ma.” You say.

“Now answer our question.” She says.

You take a sharp inhale knowing it’s no use lying anymore. It’s quite clear they went the distance and got Barry to look for you.

“I went off world.” You whisper staring down at your hands.

The cooking pan clatters on your counter and you cringe.

“You what?” Bruce bellows and you shrink. You expect your mother to cut in, because she always does when your father gets like this, but when you peak at you see a cascade of emotions on her face.

“I-I went with a friend to a nearby planet and had a little bit of fun.” You repeat, but your voice is even smaller now.

“I can’t believe you!” Bruce snaps. “Off world?” He repeats. “What the hell were you thinking you can’t just go off this planet without telling me! Hell you can’t leave this planet at all!”

You feel agitation. “You have.” You quip but you know it’s a childish futile gesture born from not having any other come back.

“Oh you mean the times of crisis when I’ve had zero choice in the matter!” He snaps back at you. You know you should relent. It’s not in your nature to really, but you and Bruce are both stubborn and you know it’d be better to let him have this one.

“I’m an adult I don’t need your permission!” You challenge. Again, a failing argument, and one that makes your mother tense. Her fingers growing tight around her mug.

“I’m all for giving you your space, but B is right in this case, you don’t leave this planet unless you have our okay. Given the risk involved in it.” Selina defends, and this makes you roll back your shoulders.

“You’d never give your okay—”

“Yes, because you have no reason to go! Your life is here! Your job, your responsibility, is school and this family! It’s not taking a trip to space!” Bruce’s temper is rising and you begin to feel exhausted.

“I’m sorry okay! I’m sorry I went off world without telling you, I’m sorry I worried you, and I’m sorry that for once I wasn’t perfect!”

They both let out a groan at this, and Bruce seems about to snap back at you but your mother slips her hand over his.

“Give us a moment B?” She asks. “You need to cool down.”

He looks between you and her and exhales sharply. “Fine.” He says briskly, and leaves.

You jump at the slight slam to your door. You and Selina stay there in silence for a long time until she finally rubs her temples in clear frustration.

“Well are you happy?” She asks. “Did you get your bit of rebellion in?” You hate the almost condescending choice of words.

“I didn’t rebel I merely lived my life.” You defend. “I’m fine you and dad are just blowing this out of proportion!”

Wrong thing to say because she’s up from her seat and she has your chin, not harshly enough that it hurts, but enough that it doesn’t feel merely as gentle or fretting as it usually does—and you know that you’ve messed up.

It usually takes a lot for you to push your mother to the point where she gets truly upset with you. She told you once after an argument that she tries to save her frustrations for the scum bags of Gotham instead.

“Want to try talking to me like an adult kitten?” She says lowly. “Because unlike your father I’m trying very hard not to do the whole overbearing parent routine with you, but I can.”

You stare at her and squirm a little, but she doesn’t let you go, your silent plea for her to let up dismissed. In fact she only squeezes just enough to make her point.

“I just wanted to let go and you know what I did! I went out and I got drunk until I couldn’t walk,” her eyes narrow, “and I danced! And nobody knew me! I didn’t have cameras on me! I didn’t…”

With a tsk she lets your chin go.

“So the plan is to start to make deliberate mistakes to what?” You let your gaze move to the wall beyond her, that feels easier than her eyes, and she sighs when you don’t respond. “You can forget it. Your dad and I have worked too hard to see you derail yourself because you’ve suddenly decided you don’t want to communicate properly.”

“Like anyone in this family does.” You gripe. You both know you’ve got her there, none of you really do, but it doesn’t seem to deter her.

“I don’t know who took you off world, but I do know you’re not doing it again.” You feel your heart thud. You knew this would be the outcome, but the idea of never going out there with Kara when you just got her to offer feels cruel.

“Ma’ma—”

“It’s not a negation darling!” She snaps finally. “Card and keys.” Your eyes widen. “You’ll have a driver again—”

You tilt your head back and groan at her. “It’s not like you’re not both tracking me through that cave anyways!” You snap.

“Finish your semester without pulling another…” she waves her hand, “and then we’ll speak.”

You don’t reply, and she begins to head for the door. “Oh and you will be at family dinner tonight!” She calls back as your door slams.

“Fuck.” You mutter.

One month passes and you really do try to finish the semester normally, to fall back into your old routine with practiced ease, but the only thing that seems to linger in your mind is Kara.

It’s no longer the idea of her that does, or how attractive you find her, but really her. Her grin, her hands on you, the way she let go when dancing with you. You want more of her.

So much so that you wait. You wait in a way that you haven’t waited for something since you were about seven. The waiting comes with the bonus that your parent cool off, Bruce now referring to your trip as ‘the incident’ and firmly believing it won’t happen again. Your life has practically returned to the same as before, and you try to lie to yourself and say it’s fine, but it’s not.

When a month and a half passes without so much as a follow up you want to whack yourself. Of course she didn’t actually mean it. She was drunk. You were drunk. There’s no reason for Kara to want to be around you. She’s Supergirl for heaven’s sake. You may be a Wayne but you doubt that matters to her.

When two months roll around you’ve given up, but you wonder if Kara has some lingering way of knowing that, because she stands waiting at the bottom of your building with a single flower in hand as you return from volunteering.

It’s wilted a tad, and actually kind of pathetic, and it should embarrass you the way your heart still flutters are the sight.

She doesn’t make a grand show, doesn’t even speak as you near, but Krypto does. When he spots you he closes the distance easily, leaping up and practically tackling you. You thank god you decided to wear sneakers today.

She tugs the dog back off of you, but you’re laughing now as he gets in a final rather gross kiss. “Missed you too Krypto.” You say, hand reaching out for him.

“And me?” Kara asks.

You jerk your head up to look at her. She’s not looking at you, but the flower is outstretched slightly as if it’s a peace offering.

“I could ask you that. It’s been a while.” You see her wince at the accusation in your tone.

“Space.” She tries to cover.

“Space.” You echo, not convinced that’s a fraction of the reason.

The first two times you actually spoke Kara was gruff and rough around the edges, hard to read, and one step removed. Now she seems anxious in a way she tries not to let show, and it makes you take the flower despite the little bit of hurt you feel. She seems to deflate in relief when you do.

“Got a little smushed.” She’s rubbing the back of her neck. “So, I heard about the no off world sentence.” You scrunch up your face and let out a huff.

“Fantastic. Did you get in trouble?”

“No.” She says. “More like it was work talk from Clark, a passing comment don’t worry, they don’t know it was me.” You’re surprised almost at the lack of relief in her voice.

“My dad as expected went ballistic, and surprisingly so did my mother.” You say. You shift on your feet and watch her.

“Do you like old movies?” She asks suddenly. “Because there’s one playing and I’d like to go.” Your eyes widen. “With you.”

“You would?” You ask. Now she looks at you, still somewhat guarded, but more open than you’ve seen her before.

“Yeah.” She says. “I would.”

“Let me go change.” You say and go to move, but she takes your arm gently, sending those sparks through you.

“You look nice.” She says sheepishly. “You don’t need to.” You feel your palms grow a little sweaty.

“Okay.” You reply as you gesture to your waiting car.

You thought you knew all of Gotham, but Kara leads you to an old movie theatre. It hasn’t got any new movies, just older ones like she said, and you recognize a lot of films your mom used to like.

It brings a small smile to your face, which Kara catches, and you feel the nerves in you settle as she orders the tickets and the food. Which is a lot more but you don’t comment. When you offer to pay she merely waves your card away.

“It’s an apology.” She says simply. “Wouldn’t be one if I make you pay.”

You’re not used to that of course. Most people, even your friends, enjoy your father’s limitless funds. You don’t mind or course, with them, but this makes you feel… different.

Again. You hate how Kara makes you feel different in a way you can’t explain.

When you settle down for the movie it takes a minute, but Kara spreads out and in the process slings her arm around the back of your chair. She doesn’t come close to actually touching you, and neither of you comment on it, but you’re happy for the darkness of the theatre as it hides your blush.

Hours later when you and Kara step out into the cool night instantly her eyes ghost upwards to the sky. “Comforting?” You ask out of the blue.

She stops as if you’ve caught her in the act of something. “Less overwhelming.” She admits. “Earth is a lot.”

You see her eyes move around the city, and you take a moment. Up close you can’t help the way your eyes take in the gentle slope of her nose, or the set of her jaw, or the way those green eyes… god her eyes.

“Thank you.” You say. “For tonight. For a bit of… normal.” She’s grinning now, however slight, and you return it.

“Thank you for bribing them to let Krypto in. I was sure he’d cause mayhem but with you he’s oddly… calm.” You notice the way her throat bobs when she admits it to you, and you step closer to her. “And thank you… for saying yes.”

And there it is again, the thing she can’t seem to say, and however much you wish to know you don’t push. Just slowly take her hand.

“I’m glad you came back. I hoped you would.” You note that her cheeks flush at your admission and it makes your grin grow. Finally you feel like the nerves she makes you feel are mutual and that knowledge makes you bold. “Will Krypto listen if you ask him to go to Clark for a bit?” You’ve closed the gap even more now.

“Probably not.” She says. “They don’t really—oh.” She stops when you raise an eyebrow at her, and suddenly she’s leaning down in front of the dog.

She speaks in that language you’re not familiar with, but you can tell by the stubborn look the dog gets that she’s trying to get him to listen.

Finally she sighs. “Krypto buddy come on.” She hisses under her breath, and you have to stifle your laughter into the back of your hand.

Finally the dog looks back at you, and you give him a pleading look. With a huff the dog raises into the air and goes jetting off. Kara exhales in relief before she gets the door to your car.

You slide into the backseat and she follows in a fluid motion. The whole way back to your penthouse you refrain from tapping your foot impatiently. You may have lost your ability to play it cool with Kara after the first time you met her, but you still have some dignity.

You think when you finally shut the door behind you that you’ll be the first to kiss her, but she surprises you as she pushes you up against the back of your door. Her leg slotting between your own causing you to let out a tiny breath of surprise.

“Kara—”

“—you sure?” She breathes as if winded, even though you know it isn’t possible here, and you break away from her for a second.

“I’m sure.” You affirm, and her lips are back on yours before the final syllable even leaves you. As she deepens the kiss you can only loop your arms around her neck in an attempt to balance yourself.

You can feel her strength even in her kiss, although you can also tell she’s trying desperately to hold back. “Can’t get you off my mind.” She mumbles into your neck. “No matter how hard I try. Hate it.”

You want to retort something back, but as her kisses become bruising as her thigh pushes up and adds pressure to where you want it most.

“Bed.” You demand.

She’s lifting you in one swift movement so your legs are forced to wrap around her as she carries you from the doorway to your room, dropping you onto the bed and removing your heels. Normally you look forward to that feeling, but Kara’s touch is the only thing you want right now.

She stares down at you. “Beautiful.” She whispers as if she hates to admit it and you smile back up at her.

“All yours if you want me.” You tease, and you don’t anticipate the dark look that comes over her for a moment when you do. Then she’s stripping off her clothing until all that’s left is her underwear.

Your eyes widen at her muscles, subtle when underneath clothing, but defined when you see them up close. Her biceps now those… You take them in your hands and squeeze as she comes to loom over you and it makes her eyes flutter shut.

You can tell she likes the feeling because when she brings her knee between your legs again, this time with a soft roll, you grip tighter and it causes her to let out a tiny groan.

Your whole body is on fire and once again you debate begging. How is it that one woman can make you want to beg so much when you’ve never wanted to before.

“Kara please.” You say as her lips find yours.

“Such a rush.” She grumbles. “Can’t I take my time?” Your hands merely come to tangle through her blonde curls as her lips find your neck again.

“I’ve been waiting months.” You remind, and you know you’ve won for now because you feel a soft huff as her lips travel even further down to your collarbone. The only thing that stops her from going right to your chest is that you’re still in your blouse.

“Gonna rip it—”

“—wait—”

Too late. Kara’s certainly too impatient to deal with the buttons and even if she wasn’t she’d likely break them anyway.

“I liked that shirt.” You complain.

“—sorry.” She says as she undoes your bra and you thank the stars it’s saved by having a front clasp. “Make it up to you. Promise.”

The minute her lips wrap around your sensitive nipples you can’t help it anymore. Your back arches into her, and you can tell it spurs her on. “God.” You curse.

“Only God-like.” She corrects and you groan at her poor joke.

“Unbelievable.” You complain but the smile is on your features anyways. She rewards you with finally pushing your skirt up.

“So wet.” She notes and your whole face feels on fire at her tone. “All for me?”

“Don’t get an ego about it.” You retort, but you don’t help make your point with the low moan you let out as her finger pushes into you.

She’s careful at first, slow, pumping in and out at a pace that you can only describe as torturous—but you don’t complain. You understand she’s finding a groove with how strong she is.

Finally though she begins to speed up, and embarrassingly your thighs are already beginning to tremble a little as the rhythm she sets causes delicious pleasure.

You squirm under her as one turns to two then to three. For a woman that says she hasn’t really had a lot of relationships the way she moves her fingers is just shy of skilled as she alternates between hooking them deeper into you just right, and allowing for more pressure to your clit.

“God please Kara!” You say as your legs shake around her. Your eyes have been more or less screwed shut as she works you up. The burning feeling in your stomach becoming unbearable as she does.

“So pretty.” She whispers and your eyes open just long enough to see that she’s watching you with a look of… wonder?

It makes you feel hot under her gaze. “I’m close.” You breathe. She doesn’t even meet your gaze, just shifts down the bed.

“I want to taste you.” She says, but she phrases it like she’s asking you. The small whine that leaves you is mortifying but it seems to spur her on because her fingers leave you other than to play with your clit, and her tongue replaces them.

She hums in delight when she has to physically hold your hips down as they raise to meet her mouth. You try to remind yourself to remember that fact if you ever get a second chance at this.

You could swear despite eating a lot at the movies that she acts like she’s starving, and you can feel her groan when she lets her tongue suck in a way you swear no other person you’ve been with has managed to achieve.

“I’m so close.” You beg her. “Please Kara I need…”

She doesn’t respond verbally, but she curls her tongue at the same time she applies just enough pressure to your clit that it doesn’t matter. You ride out the fading pleasure against her lips, and when you’re done your chest is heaving.

She settles back onto her heels as she watches you. “Give me a second and then I can—” You begin, moving to touch her.

“No.” Her voice sounds a little rough. “Just wanna focus on you for now.” She notes. You frown at her as she gets off your bed.

“Kara?” Your voice feels small now as the thought of her leaving comes to mind.

She turns back to look at you with a frown.“Just getting water.” She says. You feel yourself relax.

“So you’re staying?” You ask, scared of her answer.

“I want to… if you want me to.” She admits gingerly.

“I do.” You say with a small smile. “You and Krypto.” You add.

The weight bag groaned from the ceiling with every brutal punch Natasha threw at it. She wasn’t pulling her hits, no, this wasn’t just training. It was a purge.

Her hair was damp, sticking to her temples and the nape of her neck. Black sports bra tight across her back, leggings hugging every toned curve, her body moved like a weapon, but her face? That was the giveaway. The furrow in her brow, the tightness in her jaw-

“You know..“ came a voice from the doorway, “I’m starting to worry about the bag’s survival.”

Natasha didn’t turn. She knew that voice. stepped inside, arms folded over her chest, boots clicking against the floor with that usual swagger of hers. She looked relaxed, but the gleam in her eyes was anything but.

Natasha gave the bag one final, punishing jab, then let it swing while she grabbed a towel and wiped her face. Maria smirked. “You’re wound tighter than a fuckin’ tripwire. Something you wanna share with the class?”

“Not particularly.” Natasha muttered, tossing the towel over her shoulder and heading to the bench for a bottle of water.

Maria followed like a shadow, plopping down beside her. “Rough mission, sure. But you’ve been edgy before it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Natasha rolled the bottle between her palms, shoulders still heaving with adrenaline. “Just need to move.”

“You need more than that, Nat.” Maria paused, cocked her head. “When was the last time you got laid?”

Natasha froze, and Maria watched her like a hawk. “Jesus. That long?”

A beat passed, and Natasha continued to stare at the floor. Then..“Shut up.”

Maria burst out laughing, the kind that came from deep in the belly, tossing her head back. “Goddamn, that’s tragic..You’re practically vibrating with unsatisfied rage.”

“I don’t do casual.” Natasha stood, running both hands through her hair, frustration pouring off her. “I don’t need some pretty little thing trying to fuck her way into my life.”

Maria leaned back on her hands, one brow rising. “Who said anything about casual? Or pretty little things?”

Natasha gave her a look. “You did.”

“Okay, yes…Usually.” Maria grinned wolfishly. “But I’ve found something…different. A club. Not your usual drunken mess of horny civilians. It’s..how do I put this? A place for people who know what they want. Who know how to ask for it.”

Natasha snorted. “Sounds like a high-end brothel with extra steps.”

Maria chuckled. “I knew you’d say that. But hear me out, this place? No names, no games. Just honesty and consent. You walk in, you see someone, you feel them. No pressure, and you can leave with nothing, or leave dripping.”

Natasha tilted her head, curiosity breaking through her irritation. “And what exactly are you trying to sell me here?”

Maria leaned closer, voice dropping. “There’s someone there. A girl..Comes in a few nights a week. Young..early twenties, maybe. Smart, sharp eyes. Doesn’t chase attention, but she gets it. I thought of you the second I saw her.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You trying to be my pimp now?”

“No..“ Maria smirked, “I’m being your best friend. And your best friend thinks you need someone who’ll look at you like you’re not just an Avenger. Someone who wants to fuck you, but also maybe…touch you like you matter.”

Natasha’s lips parted slightly, chest still rising with shallow breaths, but Maria saw the flicker, deep in those green eyes..the hunger. The ache.

“Come tonight.“ Maria said, standing. “Just to look.”

“…One drink.“ she said finally.

Maria’s grin widened. “That’s all I’m asking.”

——

The night air wrapped around them like silk as they stepped out of the black car. The building looked unassuming from the outside, tucked behind mirrored glass and a discreet entrance guarded by two silent men in tailored black. No name, no sign. Just a scarlet light above the door that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Maria gave Natasha a wink as they walked in. “Try not to kill anyone.”

The moment they crossed the threshold, everything changed.

Inside was decadence. Red velvet walls, gilded chandeliers dripping crystals. Smoke curling lazily through the air, scented with musk and something sweeter like sin. The air vibrated with the low thrum of bass, deep and primal. Bars lined each side, carved from obsidian and gold. Above them, platforms and poles stretched high into shadows where dancers moved like liquid temptation, some in leather, others in nothing at all.

Natasha’s sharp eyes scanned the room, cataloging exits out of habit. But tonight wasn’t about missions. It was about indulgence.

They made their way to the bar, Maria’s hand brushing her shoulder like a whisper, “Thoughts?” Maria asked, sliding onto the tall stool beside her.

Natasha took a seat, spreading her legs lazily, unbothered by the low lit crowd or the way eyes followed her. She wore black skin-tight leather pants and a sleeveless mock neck that clung to her like sin. Every line of her body said one thing: untouchable.

A tall, curvy bartender approached all smoky eyeliner and lips too red to be innocent. She leaned forward, cleavage pushed high, smile full of promise.

“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes…” Her gaze landed on Natasha and stayed there. “What’s your poison, handsome?”

Natasha smirked. “Surprise me.”

“Mmm..“ the bartender purred. “I’d love to.”

Natasha leaned on one elbow, her gaze cool. “You always flirt with customers, or am I just lucky?”

The bartender laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Only the dangerous ones.”

Maria hid her grin behind her glass as Natasha fired back effortlessly, the two exchanging barbed flirtation like they’d done it a thousand times before. But even as the bartender leaned in and licked her lips, Natasha’s expression didn’t shift. She was playing, but not playing along.

Maria glanced at her watch. “Almost time..” she murmured. As if on cue, the lights dimmed and the music slowed. The crowd quieted not completely, but just enough that a shift rolled through the club like a breath held in suspense.

A man, clearly the manager, stepped onto a small platform near the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen.“ he announced, voice tight, “tonight’s…main attractions!”

Dancers began to emerge: graceful, practiced, beautiful. The room responded with appreciation and hunger.

But Natasha didn’t. She lifted her glass, uninterested, “Is this the part where I pretend to be impressed?” she asked Maria.

Maria didn’t answer. She was watching the stage. And then..she arrived. The lights cut sharply, and a single spotlight flared, casting everything else into shadow.

The girl stepped onto the stage like she owned it. She didn’t just walk..She commanded. Every muscle in her body moved with liquid confidence, her skin glowing under the lights, hair cascading like a halo from hell. She wore barely anything, a blood-red silk bodysuit that clung to her like it was sewn onto her flesh, thighs wrapped in delicate chains, heels sharp enough to wound.

And she was beautiful. Not in a try-hard way. Not caked in glitter or neon. Just pure..a kind of pretty that wasn’t polished but dangerous. Lips parted, expression calm, eyes scanning the crowd with slow precision. And when her gaze found Natasha, it stayed.

Natasha exhaled through her nose, a dry, amused smile twitching at her lips. She turned away, back to her drink. The condensation slid down the side of the glass and pooled at her fingertips.

Maria, beside her, said nothing at first, just watched her with a smug little curl at the corner of her mouth. Natasha didn’t look at her. “She’s pretty.”

“Mhm.“ Maria hummed, sipping. “Thought you’d like her.”

“She’s cocky.”

“Like someone else I know.”

Natasha let the moment hang, rolling the liquor in her glass, eyes fixed on the amber swirl like it held answers she didn’t want.

“She knows what she’s doing.” she finally said, voice soft and even. “That’s rare.”

Maria raised a brow. “You’re impressed.”

“I’m watching.” Natasha corrected, though there was a subtle pull in her voice, something distracted and tense in the way her shoulders held. Maria smirked, but said nothing more.

The conversation shifted, flickered half-warm, half-distracted, Natasha pulling herself away from the ache building in her gut. She was fine. Just tired, just- Fingertips on her shoulder.

Natasha didn’t flinch. She already knew who it was. She took a slow sip of her drink before turning her head, just enough to glance over her shoulder.

Up close, you were worse. Better. Your eyes were sharper than she’d thought, mouth curved with something between challenge and amusement. You smelled warm, alive, dangerously close.

She turned fully now, gaze sliding over you in a way that was anything but shy. You smiled first. “You’re quieter than I expected.”

Natasha’s brow lifted. “Disappointed?”

“No. No..just curious.”

Maria leaned back, watching the exchange like a tennis match she’d paid good money for.

“So.“ you said, voice low, controlled. “Is it true?”

Natasha arched a brow. “Depends on what.”

“That the Black Widow never comes here.”

Natasha leaned back slightly, gaze dragging over you with slow, deliberate intent. “You seem well-informed.”

You smiled, not innocent, Never that.. “Occupational hazard.”

You stepped closer so there was no space at all. “You’re not impressed easily.“ you murmured. “That’s…attractive.”

Natasha leaned in just enough that her words brushed your ear. “And you’re not subtle.”

Natasha’s lips curved. She let her fingers trail along your wrist, slow, testing..before withdrawing. “You think you’re seducing me, aren’t you?“ Natasha said calmly. “But you’re still standing.”

You swallowed. “Maybe I like the tension.”

Natasha’s eyes darkened. “Careful. I don’t play gentle.”

That caught you, just a fraction of a pause. A missed beat, but Natasha instantly saw it. Her eyes darkened, something feral flickering behind the calm. She leaned in slightly, just enough to tilt the balance. “You’re good.“ she murmured. “But you’re trying a little..too hard.”

There it was.. The smirk. The slow, satisfied, dangerous smirk.. But you recovered fast, too fast but Natasha had already clocked the way your breath changed.

You straightened “Careful. You might hurt my feelings.”

“I doubt it.” Natasha said softly. “You don’t strike me as fragile.”

Silence stretched, and you smiled again. “Enjoy your drink, Romanoff.” you said, voice smooth as sin. “I’ll see you around.”

And then you turned and walked away. Natasha tracked you with her eyes despite herself, watching the sway of your hips disappear into the crowd.

Maria glanced at her, and saw the vein in Natasha’s temple. “Well..” Maria said lightly, standing. “You know what? I’m going to make very bad decisions with that blonde over there.”

Natasha didn’t respond, she just lifted her glass again, playing it off, but her eyes..kept searching. Then she saw you again. Across the club, laughing softly with another woman now. Natasha felt it then, a slow burn in her gut. Interest sharpened into something darker.

Words replayed in her head, the pause you hadn’t hidden well enough, you’re cocky answers..She looked around, and when Maria finally disappeared into the crowd, Natasha waited a full minute.

Then she stood.

You felt her before you saw her. A presence behind you, close and overwhelming. A chill slid down your spine even as heat bloomed low in your stomach.

You smiled to yourself. Got you.

“Careful.“ Natasha’s voice came from just behind your ear. “She’s not very interesting.”

The woman you’d been talking to startled, glanced between you and Natasha, and bolted. Natasha didn’t watch her leave, her attention was fully on you. She stepped in, one arm bracing against the wall beside your head. Not touching you. Just close enough that escape was a choice, one she knew you wouldn’t take.

Her eyes dragged over your face, slow and deliberate. “You walked away.” Natasha said quietly. “That was bold.”

You met her gaze, heart hammering. “You looked like you needed a reminder.”

“You think you’re in control.“ she murmured. “That’s cute.”

You moved first, through the crowd, past bodies slick with sweat and perfume, heels clicking just loud enough to be heard. You didn’t look back, but you felt her. That pressure at your spine. That awareness that made your skin prickle.

You knew she was following. Your shoulders rolled back, confidence sharpened into something provocative. You slowed just a little near the corridor marked PRIVATE, fingers brushing the velvet curtain like an invitation.

The hallway swallowed sound. Music dulled into a distant thrum. The door at the end opened under your hand, and before you could fully step inside, the presence behind you surged.

The door slammed shut..and you barely had time to inhale. Suddenly you were pressed to the wall, breath knocked from your lungs as a solid body pinned you there. One hand wrapped around both your wrists, forcing them above your head in a single, efficient movement.

Your pulse spiked instantly, heat flooding low and sharp. The wall was cool against your back, a brutal contrast to the body crowding you. Her other hand planted beside your head, caging you in completely. No escape routes, no space. Her face was inches from yours, eyes dark, pupils blown just enough to betray her restraint.

“You planned that.” she said quietly.

Not a question..Your breath came uneven. “Maybe.”

Her grip tightened, just enough to remind you who had the leverage. Your wrists burned deliciously where she held them.

“You like being chased.“ Natasha murmured. “But you didn’t think about what happens when you’re caught, Solnyshko.”

Her voice was low, and so much controlled in a way that promised violence if she let go.

You swallowed. “I was hoping you’d show me.” You whispered, and something flashed behind Natasha’s eyes. She leaned in, lips brushing your ear but not touching. “Careful.” she whispered. “I don’t stop once I start.”

Her thigh slid between yours, pinning you further, pressure deliberate. You gasped softly despite yourself, hips betraying you before your mouth could.

Natasha noticed. Of course she did. A smirk curved her lips..slow, knowing. “There it is.”

Her forehead rested briefly against yours, breath warm, steady. She wasn’t rushed, no, she was savoring this. Savoring you.

“You walked away earlier because you wanted this..” she said. “You wanted me angry. Interested. Off balance.”

She lifted her head slightly, eyes locking onto yours. “Congratulations.”

Her grip shifted, still firm, still dominant, but her thumb brushed the inside of your wrist, right over your pulse. “I’m very interested.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly now, body humming under her control. “And angry?”

Natasha’s smile turned dangerous. “No.” she said softly. “Focused.”

She leaned in again, this time letting her lips graze the corner of your mouth, barely there, teasing, cruel.

“And you..“ she murmured, “are going to learn exactly what that means.”

She didn’t kiss you yet, didn’t touch you anywhere else. She just held you there pinned, breathing, aching, letting the anticipation coil tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

Your wrists were still trapped above your head, fingers flexing uselessly against her grip. Natasha’s eyes searched your face like she was memorizing every crack forming in your composure. She said nothing, that was the worst part.

Silence was her weapon.

She leaned in slowly, so slowly it felt cruel. Her nose brushed yours. You could feel the warmth of her breath, the faint scent of vodka and something darker. Her lips hovered just there. Close enough that your body reacted instinctively, betraying you with a soft, shaky inhale.

Natasha stopped..a fraction of an inch away. Your breath stuttered. Your hips shifted before you could stop yourself, desperate, needy, aware. You hated how much you wanted it..and loved it more.

Her eyes dropped to your mouth, completely Waiting. The tension coiled tighter, tighter, until it snapped.

“Please..” you breathed.

The word barely existed in the air before Natasha’s expression changed.

She won.

A low sound left her throat, not quite a laugh, not quite a growl. Satisfaction burned behind her eyes, dark and unmistakable.

“There it is.“ she murmured.

She released one of your wrists just long enough to grab your chin, fingers firm, forcing your face up. Her thumb brushed your lower lip before pressing in just enough to make your mouth part.

“You don’t beg easily..do you?” Natasha said quietly.

Her lips crashed into yours. She kissed you like she was claiming ground, like she’d decided something and your opinion was no longer required. Her hand slid back to trap your wrists again, pinning them hard as her mouth worked yours open.

You moaned into her, couldn’t stop it, and she swallowed the sound like it belonged to her. She pulled back just enough to speak. “Look at you.“ she whispered. “All that confidence..Gone the second you realized you wanted this more than control.”

Her knee pressed harder between your thighs, deliberate pressure that made your breath hitch again. She felt it, of course she did and smirked. “You planned to lead me here..“ Natasha continued, “Thought you’d play the game..”

She leaned in again, teeth grazing your lower lip this time. “You forgot one thing, Kotenok.”

You were shaking now, not from fear, but from the way she had you pinned, exposed, unraveling.

“I invented it.”

Her hand slid down your body slow, claiming territory, nails dragging just enough to make you gasp. She didn’t touch where you needed her most. Not yet..She wanted you desperate.

“From now on.“ Natasha murmured against your ear, “you follow my pace. You speak when I tell you to. And when I touch you..” her fingers finally brushed lower, teasing, devastating “..you don’t move unless I say.”

She pulled back slightly, eyes locking onto yours. She was waiting, not for resistance, but for surrender, and the control snapped.

Natasha kissed you again, harder this time, and suddenly your feet left the floor. You gasped into her mouth as she lifted you with effortless strength, your back arching instinctively as her body pressed you closer. There was no question of where this was going. She carried you like it was inevitable.

The bed caught you both in a soft, breathless fall, her weight above you, mouth never leaving yours. Her hand slid into your hair, fingers tightening just enough to tilt your head, deepen the kiss, steal every sound you made like it belonged to her.

Then she broke it. You barely had time to chase her lips before she pulled back, kneeling over you, eyes dark and burning as she took you in, spread beneath her, flushed, breathing hard, undone already.

Natasha straightened slowly, never breaking eye contact. Her fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, lifting it inch by inch, muscles shifting under golden-red light. She didn’t rush, she wanted you watching. Wanted you seeing exactly what was about to ruin you.

Your throat bobbed.

“That look.“ she murmured, voice low and satisfied. “You’re already gone.”

She dropped the shirt aside and leaned back over you, capturing your mouth again, but softer now. Her hands traced your sides, thumbs brushing under fabric, mapping you with deliberate precision.

She peeled layers away bit by bit, lips following, kisses pressed along your jaw, your throat, lower, never lingering too long in one place. Lingerie slipped beneath her fingers, grazing skin, teasing and promising.

You were shaking beneath her by the time her hand finally slid lower, and when she touched you there , you gasped sharply, hips lifting without permission.

Natasha froze, then smirked. “Mm..” she hummed, amused, pleased. “I thought so.”

Her thumb pressed just enough to make you gasp again, and she leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“Completely mine right now..” she whispered. “Every breath..every sound.”

She kissed you again deep, one hand still holding you exactly where she wanted you, the other pinning you back into the mattress as if to remind you there was no escaping this.

Your body was already burning, hips twitching under her touch, lips parted with soft gasps but Natasha wasn’t gentle anymore. She’d tasted surrender, and now she was going to feast on it.

“Look at you..” she said lowly, her voice silk stretched over steel. “All spread out…such a pretty mess.”

Your back arched, but she didn’t give you what you wanted. Her fingers brushed lightly, just enough to tease, over the inside of your thighs, up your waist, over the fabric still clinging to your chest. She watched your every reaction, like she was studying the cause and effect of your need.

“Eyes on me.”

The command cut through you like lightning, and you obeyed instantly.

Her smirk deepened. “Good girl.”

You whimpered. “That easy, hm?” Natasha leaned down, lips barely brushing yours. “I could do anything I wanted to you right now.”

She bit your bottom lip, just enough to sting, then let go.

“And you’d take it.”

Your breath hitched. You knew she was right. Thinking was impossible. You couldn’t form words, only aching sounds, twitching under her as your body begged for more.

She let go of your wrists just long enough to sit back and drag the rest of your lingerie down your legs in one smooth, predatory motion. Her eyes never left your face.

“You’re shaking..” she whispered, dragging a nail along your inner thigh, watching your legs tremble. “So sensitive…”

You reached for her, instinct, desperation, but she caught your wrists again and pinned them above your head with a growl.

“Did I tell you to move?”

You gasped. “N-no-!”

“No.” she echoed mockingly. “No, you didn’t. So why did you try?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, just a strangled, needy breath. Natasha leaned in, voice like a razor wrapped in velvet. “You don’t move. You don’t speak. You take what I give you, and when I say beg…you beg.”

She shifted lower, slow, deliberate, and finally, finally her mouth touched you where you needed it.

You cried out, but Natasha didn’t let you go. She kept your hands caged, held you down as her mouth worked you apart, her tongue ruthless, her rhythm calculated, unrelenting. She moved with the skill of a woman who had destroyed empires, and now she was focused entirely on you.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape, not that you ever wanted to. Every time you thought you were close, she pulled back, just a little keeping you right on the edge, body shaking, back arching, lips parted in a silent scream.

“Already that close?” she whispered against your thigh. “Pathetic.”

You just moaned helpless. Natasha’s mouth curved against your skin. She kissed the inside of your knee, your hip, your stomach, everywhere but where you needed it most.

“You’ll come..“ she said darkly. “But not yet.”

She sat up again, one hand still wrapped around your wrists, the other sliding between your thighs with precise, devastating pressure.

“Beg for it.”

You were already crying out, mind blank, words slurring, hips rocking helplessly into her hand. “Please, please, Natasha- God, I-”

She tilted her head slightly. “That’s better.”

Your body was right there..Teetering. Every nerve lit up. Your thighs trembled. Your lips parted with a helpless gasp, but you bit it back. You clenched your teeth, swallowed the sound, tried to keep some part of yourself from crumbling entirely under her.

But Natasha saw it..Felt it. The way your muscles tensed, trying to fight the rise. The flicker of pride. The pathetic attempt at resistance.

“Still fighting me?” she purred.

Her fingers didn’t stop..God, no they moved faster, deeper, crueler. The kind of rhythm that stole your breath, that turned your hips traitor, grinding down without permission. Her palm pressed hard against your center, and your mouth fell open in a ragged moan before you could stop it.

“Don’t pretend you’re strong now.“ Natasha whispered, lips brushing your jaw, her breath hot and sharp. “I own this body.”

You whimpered, shaking your head in denial even as your thighs spread wider, even as your hands clenched the sheets above your head like you were drowning.

She leaned down, her weight pinning you, one thigh between yours, the other hand still working you like she was wringing every last ounce of defiance out of your bones.

“You think I haven’t seen this before?” she growled against your throat. “The brave ones? The cocky ones?”

Her teeth scraped your collarbone, biting down just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“They all beg in the end.”

Your eyes fluttered, breath catching, and you tried..tried to hold on, you gritted your teeth, legs shaking-

“Still trying to prove something?” she whispered, her voice going low and dark and full of that awful, addictive smirk. “You’re mine right now. You just haven’t said it yet.”

And then..She let go of your wrists. Just for a second before you could even move, her hand slid up, wrapped gently mockingly gently around your throat. Your eyes locked with hers, and that’s when it happened.

Your fight cracked. You felt your breath hitch, body arching up into her, your head tipping back into her palm. Your hands traitorous, needy grabbed her hips like she was oxygen and you were suffocating.

“You’re breaking.” she whispered, almost reverently. Her fingers moved harder, faster now. You tried to hold back, you really did but your body was gone. Just need. Just her.

“No more pretending..“ Natasha said, voice low, rough. “Give in.”

You choked on a sound. A moan, a plea. She pressed her forehead to yours, eyes locked to yours.

“Say it.”

Your lips trembled. “I- Y-You… I-”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours..!”

Natasha growled deep and guttural and you shattered. Your body bucked beneath her as the orgasm crashed through you violent, consuming. She pushed you through it, through the aftershocks, through the collapse. She watched every second of it.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until she kissed the corner of your eye, just once before letting your body slump against the sheets.

Legs trembling, chest heaving, fingers barely able to curl into the sheets. You were limp undone, your eyes half-lidded, lips parted in the aftermath of breaking completely under her.

But Natasha wasn’t done..Not even close.

You felt it before you registered it, her hand still between your thighs, still moving, slow and deep, like your orgasm hadn’t happened at all.

“W-Wait-” you gasped, voice barely there.

She didn’t. Her fingers curled inside you again, deliberately, pressing that same aching spot, and your hips jumped violently. It was too much. Your thighs twitched, trying to close, but Natasha shifted, forcing them apart with her knee, spreading you wider.

You whimpered. “I-I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” she said flatly. “You will.”

She leaned in, lips brushing your cheek, and whispered, “You don’t get to come once and act like it’s over.”

Your entire body was on fire. Every touch was too much, too sharp, too electric, but she kept going, unrelenting, fingers working inside you with mechanical precision. You were soaked, overstimulated, everything twitching from sensitivity but your body was already climbing again, helplessly.

“That’s it..” Natasha murmured. “I want every last piece of that cocky little attitude fucked out of you.”

Her free hand slid down your stomach, pressed against your pelvis to hold you down when your hips started bucking again, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation. But she was stronger. She always was.

You were sobbing now, breathless cries of pleasure and panic all at once. Your second orgasm was rising so fast it felt like drowning.

“You’re gonna come again..” she breathed against your ear, licking the shell of it just to make you jolt. “And then again. Until all you know is how to shake under my hands.”

Your back arched, legs shaking, every sound you made was raw and high and needy.

And Natasha loved it. “Come for me again..” she growled. “Louder this time.”

You screamed. Your second orgasm hit harder full body, mind-numbing, soul-emptying. You clutched at her arms, at her back, at anything.

You didn’t realize when it all stopped. You just noticed that the room was quieter now. That your body had stopped convulsing, stopped trembling. That the only thing you could feel was the pounding of your heart and the warmth of her still above you, hovering and watching.

Your body felt heavy. Every inch of you throbbed. You couldn’t even open your eyes.

Her weight settled beside you on the bed, then half over you, her hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. The other skimmed along your stomach, no longer teasing, no longer demanding. Just..there.

You flinched when she touched you, but she didn’t pull back. “Shhh…” she whispered, voice low and soft now, softer than it had any right to be after everything she just did to you. “I’ve got you.”

You felt her lips press to your temple, your cheek, your jaw. Every kiss was careful. Her breath warmed your skin, soothing the places she’d marked, worshipping where she’d destroyed.

“You’re okay.“ Natasha murmured. “You did so good.”

A small sound escaped you, more breath than voice. She shifted closer at the sound, her thigh sliding between yours, but only to hold you, not to take.

“You with me?”

You nodded weakly, and she hummed.

“You were perfect..” she whispered. “So fucking perfect.”

Her hand rubbed slow, gentle circles into your back. Her other arm wrapped fully around your waist, tugging you into her chest like a protective shield.

And you felt safe.

She pulled the blankets over both of you, arms still wrapped around you tight, and you melted into her chest like you’d finally come home.

-

-

-

“god, it’s so hot jen. you really think drinking is gonna help?” you groaned, sitting down next to jennifer on one of the barstools.

jennifer rolled her eyes, nudging your knee with hers. “i’ll just get you ice water then. princess treatment. that good enough for you?”

“yeah… and i’m tired. and all sweaty.” you stretched your shoulders, letting out a soft wince. “we’ve been out all day. can we just—”

she cut you off with a quick kiss, like she was plugging your mouth shut.

“fifteen minutes,” she said against your lips. “tops. then i’m stealing you back to the cabin and you can pass out on my boobs or whatever.”

you laughed, pushing her shoulder, and then the strap of your tank top fell for what seemed like 50th time today.

jennifer’s eyes immediately darkened. she reached out and fixed it for you, her fingers skimming your skin a little too slowly.

she flags down the bartender and orders you water, herself a drink. her hand settles on your thigh like she owns it… which, honestly, she kinda thinks she does.

“i’m gonna go pee before we drink. stay here. i’ll be right back.” she says, kissing you on the cheek.

“i’m not a toddler.”

“you’re my girlfriend. that’s worse. don’t go anywhere.” jennifer smiles, squeezing your hand one last time before walking into the bathroom.

she’s barely gone for 10 seconds before the guy next to you leans over, you mentally roll your eyes, your jaw clenching.

“rough day?” he asks, doing that sleazy half-smile like he can smell vulnerability. your nostrils flare up as you smell the booze reeking from his body.

“uhm—“ you open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off.

“well, lucky you ran into me then.” he slides a napkin toward you, his number scribbled in messy ink. “if you need some… distraction.”

you freeze, eyes darting toward the hallway jennifer disappeared down. you’re shocked at the audacity of this guy, not even sure how to respond.

“i—”

“she’s not interested.” jennifer’s voice cuts in, sharp like a knife.

you jump and she’s right behind you, staring the guy down with a forced smile.

the guy raises his eyebrows. “didn’t see you there.”

“yeah,” she purrs, taking the napkin out of your hand. “you won’t see much of anything if you keep looking at my girlfriend like that.”

“hey, chill,” he mutters, holding up his hands.

“i am so chill.” she flashes him a smile before lacing her fingers with yours. “we’re leaving. come on, babe.”

“you didn’t have to do that, i had it under control.” you reassured jennifer as the both of you walked out of the bar.

she crumples the napkin in her fist… but you don’t notice her slipping it into her back pocket instead of letting it fall into the trash can by the door.

“you good?” she murmurs, thumb rubbing circles on your hip as you walk.

“yeah,” you sigh, leaning into her. “m’ just exhausted.”

jennifer hums, but she’s not really listening to your exhaustion, she’s replaying that assholes face in her head, jaw tight, eyes glinting.

“babe,” you say softly. “you’re doing the jaw thing.”

“what jaw thing?”

“the ‘i’m imagining someone’s obituary’ thing.”

she huffs a laugh, but it’s a frustrated one. “i just don’t like when dudes act like you’re… available. like i’m not literally right there.”

“i wasn’t gonna take his number,” you mumble.

“i know.” jennifer replies fast. too fast.

“doesn’t mean I didn’t wanna toss him through a wall.”

“jennifer,” you groan, bumping her shoulder. “you are so dramatic.”

“you love it.”

“maybe.”

“definitely.”

you roll your eyes but your cheeks are warm. she notices. she always notices.

by the time you reach the cabin steps, jennifer steps in front of you, hands on your waist, forcing you to look at her.

“just so we’re clear,” she says, voice low and slow, “you’re mine. right?”

you blink at her. “duh. obviously.”

she smiles widely and kisses you again, longer this time, like she’s branding the yes into your mouth. “kay, just making sure.”

the front door shuts behind you with a soft thud, and everything suddenly feels quieter. finally. you were unbelievably tired.

you kick off your shoes, ready to flop into bed, but jennifer grabs your wrist gently.

“hold up. come here.”

you let her pull you into her, her arms sliding around your waist from behind as she nuzzles your neck.

“he really got under your skin, huh?” you joke, leaning into her touch.

“nah.” she lies through her teeth and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“i just don’t like when people think they can take what’s mine.”

you feel her smile against your skin, but there’s something else beneath it, something you can’t place.

she turns you around to face her.

“did he touch you?” jennifer asks suddenly.

“what? no.” you respond, confused.

“did he try?”

“no, babe. he literally just slid a napkin.”

her eyes narrow, like the napkin alone was enough to warrant a death sentence.

“still disrespectful,” she mutters.

you hug her and mumble against her neck. “it’s over. i’m here. with you. can we please just go to sleep? i’m so fucking tired.”

she hesitates for half a second, where she looks like she wants to say something else.

but instead she smiles sweetly and kisses your forehead. “yeah. get in bed. i’ll lock up.”

“m’ kay. don’t take long.”

“i won’t.” she doesn’t even check the locks at first. she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out the napkin the guy gave you.

she smooths it out on the kitchen counter, ink smudged a little from her palm sweating earlier.

she grabs her phone and opens a new text thread and types in his number.

hey… it’s me. from the bar.

she waits. counts the seconds. please take the bait.

he responds faster than she expects.

oh damn. didn’t think you’d actually text.

she rolls her eyes and pushes her hair behind her ear. this was actually painful for her.

i couldn’t earlier. wasn’t a good time.

she looks up and behind her shoulder, paranoid you were still awake and looking at her phone.

she leans her hip against the counter, thumbs moving quick.

but i can talk now.

his text shoots in faster than she sent the first one.

ur girlfriend asleep? ;)

jennifer’s expression drops into pure disgust. her hand grips her phone tighter.

“oh, you’re done,” she mumbles.

yeah… she knocked out. long day lol

you tryna meet up? got a spot behind the bar nobody goes to.

she doesn’t answer right away. she finally walks over to the front door, flicks the lock loudly. so that if you’re awake, it sounds like she’s actually doing what she said.

“god, men are so easy.” she whispers to herself.

maybe. send the pin.

his response comes with a location drop.

a trail entrance in the woods behind the bar. perfect.

jennifer lets out a sigh of relief, smiling to herself.

give me like 20. don’t move.

she places her phone in her pocket and finally checks all the locks, methodically, like she’s preparing the cabin for you to sleep safely.

jennifer pushes the bedroom door open slowly, only to find you out cold.

she leans against the doorframe for a second, just watching you, like she’s trying to memorize the softness before she goes out and ruins some guy’s entire life.

she tucks the blanket up to your shoulders and kisses your forehead. “sleep, babe. i’ll handle it.”

oh, and she does.

her phone buzzes in her pocket. a new message.

im here btw. it’s dark as hell out lol

i’m heading over. don’t chicken out :)

she puts her phone away and locks the door behind her, making her way down the dirt path to his location.

the trail behind the bar is barely lit, just the sign’s glow bleeding through the trees in the distance.

she sees him before he sees her.

he’s pacing near the clearing, phone in his hand, checking the time. he looks nervous, eager, and completely oblivious.

jennifer steps forward just enough for a twig to snap.

he turns, eyes lighting up, expecting to see you.

“hey! thought you weren’t—”

he freezes mid-sentence when he realizes it’s not you.

jennifer’s smile spreads slowly and lethally.

“you’re early,” she says softly. “how sweet. such a gentleman.”

his brows furrow. “uh… where’s—”

“did you really think she’d meet you out here alone?” jennifer asks.

it’s silent for a few seconds, he’s looking around and shifting his weight on each foot “so… she’s not coming?”

god, how much more idiotic could this guy get?

“oh, don’t worry,” she smiles. “i’m here instead. and i’m so hungry.”

the cabin door creaks open slowly. jennifer slips inside, closing it softly.

you jolt awake instantly. your heart racing.

“jen?” you call out, voice rough with sleep.

“hey, baby,” she answers softly.

you blink toward the doorway and your heart drops right out of your chest.

jennifer is standing there, illuminated by the faint lamp light, covered in blood.

not soaked like in a movie… but spattered, on her jawline, drips on her collarbone and her hands are stained.

your breath catches in your throat.

“what the fuck?? what happened?! oh my god! are you hurt??”

she steps toward you slowly, hands raised like she doesn’t want to scare you. “no. it’s not mine.”

your stomach flips violently and your knees nearly buckle. “what are you saying…”

she reaches you and cups your face with her cold, stained hands, and you gasp at the blood smearing on your face.

“he won’t ever touch you. or look at you. or breathe near you again.”

heat flickers low in your stomach at the sound of her voice, at the fact that she did this for you. over you.

you swallow hard, attempting to take a step back. “jennifer… jesus christ… this is insane.”

“i know,” she whispers, brushing your bottom lip with her thumb, staining it red.

“but i’d do anything for you. you know that, right, babe?”

you should shove her away. you should scream for help. you should call someone.

but you’re breathing fast, staring at her mouth. your body filled with arousal and anxiety.

“you’re… you’re scaring me,” you whisper.

she smiles, tilting her head, “and you like it.”

jennifer pulls you closer, her blood-stained fingers tangling in your hair as she crashes her lips against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss.

you gasp into her mouth, tasting the coppery fresh blood mingling with her saliva. you hate the way you’re so turned on right now.

she walks you backwards until your legs hit the foot of the bed, the cabin’s floor creaking softly around you the both of you.

her lips kiss down your neck, smearing the blood down the column of your throat as she does so.

jennifer yanks your shirt up and off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, revealing your flimsy bra. her hands work at the clasp of your bra, your tits springing out, the cool air makes you shiver.

"you're mine," she murmurs, before taking a nipple into her mouth and sucking, her eyelashes flutter up at you.

her other hand slides down your stomach, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties to stroke through the slick folds of your pussy. you whine and grind up against her touch, desperate for more.

"there's your proof," she breathes, pulling back from your tit with a wet pop, just enough to meet your gaze. "you want this. you want me, no matter what i do, what i am. isn’t that right?”

you nod your head eagerly, squirming against the sheets.

her fingers sink deep inside you, pumping in and out, smiling as you whimper and writhe under her.

your fingers claw red lines down her back through the fabric of her shirt as you cling to her.

jennifer's fingers pump into you faster, the lewd sound of your soaked cunt filling the room as she finger-fucks you with single-minded focus. her thumb nudges your clit, circling the swollen bundle of nerves in tight, rough strokes that send electric shocks of heat shooting up your spine.

"oh my fucking god, jen," you gasp, voice ragged and high-pitched.

her hand grips your throat, not tightly enough to cut off your air, but with enough pressure that she feels the hammering pulse that betrays your excitement.

her other hand continues its ruthless assault on your dripping cunt, three fingers plunging in and out, curling just so to hit that spongey spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

"do you feel that, baby?" she pants. "do you feel how fucking wet you are? how much your body wants this, wants me?"

“you’re just as fucked up as me. maybe even more.” jennifer breathes out and you moan.

jennifer feels your body tensing, your walls clamping down around her plunging fingers as your climax builds up in your core. she knows you're close. “you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“yes— m’ gonna cum.” you manage to babble out, rocking up against her hand.

your orgasm crashes through you suddenly, sweeping away all thoughts of the guy, of the blood, of anything but the pleasure that consumes you.

she helps you ride out your orgasm, whispering soft praises against your mouth.

she eases her fingers out of your cunt, letting out her own moan as she sees the slick of your arousal and the stranger's blood coating her fingers. your stomach flips for the 20th time tonight.

Then she gets in after you.

Natasha climbs over the center console with all the grace of a predator. She’s still in her suit from work, black button-up shirt undone at the collar, her red hair pulled back. You don’t dare meet her eyes. She reaches for you and you freeze.

Her fingers grip your chin and lift your gaze to hers.

“You’re gonna be good for me, right?” she asks softly. Her thumb strokes over your lip. “No crying. No running. You came when I told you, so that means you knew what you needed.”

Your throat’s dry. You nod. She smiles, slow and dark.

“Take your panties off.”

You obey with trembling hands, tugging them down under your skirt, past your knees, kicking them off onto the floor. You feel exposed, naked, even though you’re still technically dressed. Your heart’s beating too fast. Your legs threaten to close but Natasha slides between them, forcing them apart.

Her hand wraps around your throat.

She doesn’t squeeze right away. Just holds you there, a light pressure under your jaw, fingers firm against your skin, thumb brushing your pulse. Her cock presses hard against your inner thigh, straining in her tailored slacks. She watches your face as she reaches down, tugging her zipper open with her free hand.

You feel it before you see it. The heat. The weight. Then it’s out. Thick and flushed and already leaking. Your lips part in a silent breath when she strokes it once, slow, letting her precum smear over her palm.

“You still tight, sweetheart?” Natasha purrs. “Still untouched for anyone but me?”

You nod again, cheeks burning. Your thighs twitch as she drags the head of her cock through your slick folds, not pushing in yet, just teasing, smearing wetness across your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” she growls. “All that from a little touch? Or was it just me picking you up after class?”

She slaps the head of her cock against your clit, making you flinch. Then she

slaps the head of her cock against your clit, making you flinch. Then she does it again, slower this time, watching the way your body jerks with each tap.

"Sensitive," she mutters, mostly to herself. Her hand squeezes your throat just a little harder. "Look at you. Squirming. Dripping. And we haven’t even started."

Your breath stutters, eyes wide. She doesn’t give you time to respond. One sharp thrust and she pushes just the tip inside, stretching you open around the thick crown of her cock. The pressure burns. Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, nails digging into the seat, legs trembling as she sinks in another inch.

"Too much?" she asks, breath warm against your cheek. She’s smiling, cruel and indulgent. "That’s not a real question, baby. You know I don’t stop."

She fucks the rest in with one hard stroke. Your cry dies in your throat, strangled by her grip. You feel impossibly full, stretched around her cock until tears sting your eyes. She doesn't move right away, just holds you there, throbbing inside you while your body tries to catch up.

"That’s it," she murmurs. "Take it. Like the good little girl you are."

Her hips draw back slow, then slam forward again. You jolt. She fucks into you with steady, brutal rhythm, one hand choking you just enough to keep you dizzy, the other gripping your thigh to keep you open. The sound of her cock pounding into your soaked cunt fills the car, slick and obscene. Every thrust punches a gasp from your lungs. Every time she buries herself to the hilt, you swear it’s deeper than before.

You can’t stop the sounds you're making — whimpers, hiccupping sobs, a strangled plea that she ignores completely.

"You feel that?" she growls, breath hot against your skin. "That’s me, fucking everything else out of you. Every little crush. Every stupid thought. No one else gets to touch you like this."

Her cock slams up into a spot that makes your vision white out. You choke on a sob, cunt clenching tight around her. You’re so close, you can’t breathe, and still she doesn't slow down.

"You gonna cum for me?" Natasha hisses, voice low, sharp against your throat. "Gonna soak my cock like the filthy little thing you are?"

You nod, or try to, the movement barely there with her hand still around your neck. Your body’s trembling, thighs shaking, breath a mess. She fucks you harder now, rough thrusts that rock the whole car, each one hitting that devastating spot inside you. It feels overwhelming — her pace, her cock, the grip around your throat, the way she’s staring straight into your eyes like she owns you.

She does. Right now, she does.

“You know you weren’t supposed to let me fuck you here,” she mutters, gritting it through her teeth as your cunt squeezes around her. “Not in my car. Not in the parking lot. Not while you’re still wearing that little fucking skirt.”

Your walls flutter and she feels it. She grins, sharp and satisfied.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You like being used right after class. Like it when I drag you into the backseat and fuck your cunt raw before anyone notices you’re gone.”

You moan. Loud. You can’t help it. The tension coils hard in your belly, unbearable now. You’re so close it hurts.

She leans in, mouth by your ear.

“You cum without permission and I’ll leave you full and aching, dripping into your panties all day. Say it. Ask for it.”

You choke on the words, breathless and fucked-out. “Please. Please let me cum. I need it. Please—”

Natasha growls, deep and primal. She fucks you through it, not slowing, just letting it break you open.

“Then cum for me, baby,” she snarls. “Cum on my cock. Right now.”

You fall apart with a sob, body arching, legs clenching tight around her waist as your orgasm tears through you. You gush around her, soaking her cock, crying her name against her shoulder. Your cunt pulses over and over, pulling at her, desperate and greedy.

Natasha doesn’t stop.

Her rhythm turns brutal, chasing her own high now. Her grip on your throat tightens just as her hips slam forward, cock buried to the base. She shudders. Groans. Then you feel it — the heat, the rush, her cum spilling deep inside you, thick and endless.

She stays there, cock still throbbing, one hand on your neck, the other sliding to your thigh. Holding you there. Possessive.

You’re a mess. Sweaty. Shaking. Full.

Natasha finally breathes out against your mouth.

“You don’t tell anyone about this,” she whispers. “You don’t even think about it.”

She leans in and kisses you slow, filthy, tongue licking into your mouth like she didn’t just ruin you in the backseat of her car.

Then, without a word, she fixes your skirt, tucks your panties into her pocket, and whispers:

You keep your posture straight, even if your back aches from the blow that dropped you earlier. You don't know how long you've been in this place. Hours? Days? SHIELD protocol demands silence. No matter what she does, you don't break. But the truth is: she hasn't even touched you. Not yet.

Because she doesn't need to.

The door hisses open.

She walks in without fanfare, without armor. No red leather. No crown. Just Wanda Maximoff in a black shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hands bare.

And that's somehow worse.

You watch her circle the room like a lioness in slow motion. She doesn't look at you at first. Just drags a finger across the dusty table in the corner, brushes nonexistent dirt from her cuff.

Her voice cuts the silence. "I thought they'd send someone... bigger."

You smile with bloody teeth. "Disappointed?"

Wanda finally turns her gaze on you.

It's a punch to the gut. Her eyes are unreadable, green, gold, red, all at once, and she tilts her head just slightly as if reading you. The way a surgeon sizes up the patient before making the first cut.

"No," she says. "You're exactly who I wanted."

You lean back in your restraints, feigning comfort. "Funny. I didn't know I was so popular with terrorists."

Her jaw twitches. Just a flicker. Then she walks toward you, slow and controlled. Her boots echo on the concrete floor like a metronome winding down.

"You think I'm a terrorist," she repeats softly.

"You kidnapped an entire town."

"I freed them. Eventually."

"You killed people."

"And you've never pulled a trigger in your life?"

You glare. Her smile deepens, not warm. Not even cruel. Just fascinated.

"They told me you were smart. They didn't say you were pretty."

She stops in front of you. The heat radiating from her body coils around your skin. Her power hums just beneath the surface.

"I read your file," she murmurs. "Y/n L/n. SHIELD infiltration specialist. No psychic sensitivity. Resistant to telepathic suggestion. Advanced interrogation resistance training."

You smirk. "Enjoy the reading material?"

"I always enjoy learning how to break things."

Her fingers brush your jaw.

You flinch, but don't look away.

"Tell me what SHIELD wants from me," she says.

"Why not dig it out of my mind? Isn't that your thing?"

Her thumb wipes a smear of blood from your lip. Then she brings it to her mouth. Licks it clean.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Your thighs clench.

She notices.

Her mouth twitches.

"You're not afraid of me," she says, curious now.

"I know exactly what you are."

She leans in. Her breath hits your neck, warm and slow.

"Then why are you shaking?"

You're not.

Or... maybe you are.

You hate her. You want her dead. You want her closer.

"You're wasting time," you bite out. "You won't break me."

Wanda hums thoughtfully. Her hand slides to your throat, not squeezing. Just holding. Feeling the pulse. The vulnerability. The trust she knows you don't give.

"Maybe not with questions," she says. "Maybe not with pain."

You hold her gaze.

"Then what?"

She leans closer, her lips a breath from yours.

"Maybe I'll just make you beg."

Your heart slams against your ribs.

The lights flicker again.

This isn't about information anymore.

And you don't want it to stop.

She moves like shadow and flame, a slow burn with sharp edges. Her fingers drift from your throat, trailing down to your collarbone, and for a second, you swear, she hesitates. Just long enough for you to feel it.

"What's the matter, Maximoff?" you rasp. "Losing your nerve?"

Her power flares.

Red tendrils lick up your arms, not quite touching your skin but burning close. The restraints tighten with a creaking groan. She steps between your thighs, gaze locked to yours, and her expression has cooled into something dangerous.

"You want pain?"

You bare your teeth. "I want you to pick a side. Monster or martyr."

She laughs once, low and sharp. "Always so black and white with SHIELD."

Her hand glides over your sternum, then lower, slow and intentional.

"Let me show you the gray."

The magic binds your chest, curling like silk ribbon and iron wire all at once. It's not tight enough to suffocate, but it's enough to remind you that you're utterly at her mercy.

You inhale through your nose, exhale slowly. You won't give her the sound she wants. Not yet.

Her lips brush the shell of your ear.

"Tell me, agent..." Her voice is a whisper of heat. "When I finally crawl inside your mind, will you fight me the same way your body does?"

"You'll have to get in first."

Wanda chuckles, and it's dark this time. Not amused. A sound filled with hunger and warning.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmurs. "I already am."

You twist in your restraints, testing them, not out of panic, but calculation.

Wanda watches every twitch of your muscles like she's memorizing you. Her hand finally settles at your hip, fingers digging in just hard enough to bruise.

You hate how your body responds.

But you don't hide it.

You meet her eyes and say nothing.

She tilts her head. "Still so quiet. That training must be exhausting."

You lean forward the inch your bindings allow. "Try harder."

Something dark flashes in her expression, not anger.

Arousal. Her magic ignites.

And the room begins to burn.

"Let's talk about your last mission," Wanda says, voice rich with mock curiosity as she pulls a chair from the corner and drags it across the floor. She flips it around and straddles it backwards, arms resting over the top, her posture casual in a way that drips with power.

You narrow your eyes. "You already know everything."

"Humor me."

Her fingers flex and suddenly a red wisp tightens the strap across your chest. Not choking, but closer. More intimate. Like a hand curling possessively beneath your ribs.

"You were embedded in Berlin," she begins. "Tracking an asset I happen to value. You made contact with one of my allies. Fed them false intel. Sabotaged a weapons exchange."

You offer a bloodstained grin. "You left your back door wide open. Rookie mistake."

Wanda leans forward. "And now here you are, caught in my cage, mouthing off like you're not minutes away from falling apart."

She reaches out and rests a finger against your knee. Just a single point of touch, but it's enough.

A pulse of magic climbs your thigh, slow, deliberate.

Your breath catches, and you hate that she hears it.

"There it is," she murmurs.

You bare your teeth. "You're going to have to do better than foreplay."

"Oh, I intend to."

The chair scrapes as she rises, her expression unreadable again. Her magic pulls at the restraints around your thighs, spreading them slightly. Just enough.

"You're still in control," she says softly, as if it's a kindness. "I haven't taken anything you haven't already given."

You know she's lying.

And yet your pulse is already racing, breath shallowing with the tension.

"Tell me what SHIELD sent you to find," she says. "And I'll make it good."

You tilt your head. "And if I don't?"

Her smile is razor sharp. "Then I make it better."

She steps forward.

And her hands go to your thighs.

You open your mouth to fire another quip, but Wanda is already moving.

A sickening crack echoes through the chamber as her knuckles collide with your jaw. Not a slap. A punch. It splits the inside of your cheek and rocks your head to the side. Blood drips from your lip to your chin, thick and hot.

You taste iron. You taste her power humming around you like the static before a storm.

The room falls silent.

Her footsteps are slow, methodical. When she grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back, there's no tenderness, only cold precision.

"You think this is a game?"

You glare at her. Smile with blood streaked teeth. "Looks like you're losing."

Her hand tightens in your hair. The other lifts, glowing red.

A needle-thin thread of energy snakes toward your temple. You feel it trying to push, in, but it doesn't get far. The resistance burns. You scream, just once, involuntarily.

She stops. Withdraws. Smiles.

"Interesting," she says. "You're harder to crack than most."

She leans in, nose nearly touching yours.

"But everything breaks. Eventually."

She conjures a blade of scarlet light, thin and elegant like a scalpel. She presses it just beneath your collarbone, slicing shallowly. You flinch. Blood wells and trails downward.

"Pain is honest," she murmurs. "It doesn't lie like your mouth does."

You pant through clenched teeth. "You're enjoying this."

"No," Wanda says. "I need this."

She drags the blade lower. Not enough to kill, never that, but enough to leave you bleeding, twitching. Open.

Then, she cups your cheek with the same bloodied hand.

"Now," she whispers. "Let's try again. What did SHIELD send you to find?"

You spit blood at her feet.

Wanda wipes it from her boot with a flick of magic, eyes never leaving yours.

"Fine," she says. "We'll start with something simpler."

Chains of red wrap tighter around your wrists, ankles, chest.

"Your pain tolerance."

She steps back, lifts her hand, and the screaming begins anew.

The red magic lashes through your nerves like fire and ice, biting into your skin, your bones, your thoughts. It's not just pain. It's sensation, overwhelming and precise. She calibrates it like a scientist, like a witch, like a lover who knows every threshold you refuse to name.

You shake in the chair, biting down on your tongue hard enough to reopen the wound in your cheek. The blood fills your mouth again. You choke on it. Swallow it. Gasp.

She watches.

"You don't scream like they do," Wanda muses aloud, as if she's observing a specimen under glass. "Most of them break here. Men. Agents. Super soldiers. They cry. They beg. But not you."

She steps forward. Her fingers trail down your arm with false gentleness, her voice like poison in silk.

"Is it pride that keeps you quiet? Or is it something darker?"

You force your eyes open, meet her stare. Your lips curl despite the blood. "You like it when I take it."

She exhales slowly, nostrils flaring. Her nails dig into your thigh.

"Masochist," she whispers.

You grin. "Takes one to know one."

And for the first time, she laughs. Quiet, genuine, cracked around the edges. Then her smile fades.

"You're going to bleed for me," she says. "But you're also going to give me what I want."

She flicks her fingers. The chains around your legs snap tighter. You groan, pain, pressure, heat. You don't beg. You won't.

"Why were you in Berlin? What was your real target?" she demands.

You spit again, slower this time. "I was watching you."

That catches her breath. Just a hitch. She covers it with violence, a blast of magic slamming into your ribs, then spreading into heat, crawling lower.

"Then watch me," Wanda hisses, stepping close.

She rips your shirt open with a flash of power. Her hand presses flat against your bare abdomen, the skin hot where she touches. Her lips are at your ear.

"You want pain? You want to prove how much you can take? Then you're going to take me."

And the interrogation becomes something else entirely.

She leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear, her voice a silk-wrapped blade. "You break so beautifully."

The chains don't loosen, but shift, pressing you down, forcing your legs wider, your back flush to the cold steel. You don't resist. You can't. You wouldn't.

Her mouth brushes your jaw. "Let me hear the truth now. Not for SHIELD. Not for your cause. For me."

Her hand trails lower, between your thighs, knuckles grazing the sensitive heat she's been drawing out of you with every calculated word, every electric moment of pain.

"You're soaked," she murmurs, her tone colder now, like disappointment wrapped in silk. "And you're still pretending this is about loyalty."

You choke on breath. You want to curse her. You want to beg.

You do neither.

"Say it," she commands.

You shake your head.

Her fingers tighten around your throat just slightly, just enough to remind you.

"Say who you belong to."

You bare your teeth, defiant.

She smiles. Not kindly.

"Then I'll carve the answer into you."

And when her fingers slip inside your waistband and inside you, it's not tender. It's a claim.

Every movement is control. Every breath she lets you take is permission.

And she doesn't let you look away.

"Keep your eyes on me," she says, low. "You want to take me? Prove it. Show me how good you suffer."

You do.

And for the first time, you wonder if surrendering might feel like victory.

But you don't give her silence.

You laugh.

It's sharp, cracked, ugly, and it makes her pause.

"You think this proves something?" you rasp, voice raw. "You think your little throne of red light makes you a god? You're just a girl who couldn't control her grief, and now you're playing warlord because you're too afraid to be alone."

The change in her is instant.

Her hand snaps to your throat again, this time harder, pressing you back into the chair with brutal force. Not enough to cut air, yet. Just enough to remind you who owns the space between breaths.

"You don't get to talk to me like that."

You choke out another bloody grin. "Then make me stop."

She leans down until her forehead presses to yours, eyes glowing like twin furnaces.

"You think SHIELD will come for you? That anyone is coming? I've buried better agents than you beneath the bones of empires. I unmade gods for less."

She punctuates the word with a thrust of her fingers inside you, rough, deep. Your body jolts, but your smirk doesn't falter.

"Still just a scared little girl under all that power," you whisper.

She groans.

The magic flares so violently that the lights above burst, glass raining down behind her in slow motion.

"I am everything you fear in the dark," she breathes, slamming her hips forward, pressing into you with her whole body now, her voice a growl in your ear. "And the only reason you're still alive is because I like the way you sound when you break."

You gasp, shuddering, your voice shaking now. Not from fear.

"Then break me properly."

She does.

With a flick of her fingers, the physical restraints snap open, metal clattering to the ground like discarded rules. But you're not free.

Scarlet bands of power seize your limbs before you can even move. Your body is yanked upright, suspended for a heartbeat, before she slams you face-first into the cold concrete floor.

Pain blossoms across your cheekbone and shoulder. The breath leaves your lungs in a single stunned exhale.

You barely register the sound of her boots pacing behind you, slow and deliberate.

"On your knees for me now," Wanda murmurs. "You want to fight? Then crawl."

You try to push up, only for the magic to shove you back down. Her power pins you by the neck, spine arched, hips raised. Your dignity shatters one inch at a time, and she watches.

Her voice turns cruel. "You look better like this. Not so smug now, are you? A trained little agent without her leash."

Your pants vanish with a hiss of heat and red. The cold air hits you, and her hand follows, dragging across your bare skin like a brand.

"So wet," she sneers, voice thick with power-laced venom. 

You groan, humiliated, furious, turned on in ways you refuse to name.

She crouches behind you, one hand pressed hard between your shoulder blades, the other trailing fire between your legs.

"Now tell me," she groans, mouth hot at your ear. "What was the objective in Berlin? What did SHIELD want from me?"

You grit your teeth. "Go to hell."

Her fingers thrust deep without warning.

You scream.

She moans.

"That's more like it," she purrs. "You'll scream all my answers eventually. And if not, I'll just fuck them out of you."

She begins to move, slow and devastating, every thrust forcing your knees to scrape against the floor, her power keeping you exactly where she wants you.

"Say it," she demands. "Say who you belong to."

You hiss. You curse. You don't say it.

Her magic tightens again.

"Louder, agent," she snarls, her voice low and vibrating with cruel hunger. "I want the world to hear the moan you choke down. Let them know exactly what happens when they send one of their best to kneel before a goddess."

You bite down a sob, but what escapes is worse. A moan. Raw, guttural, defiant.

It cracks the silence open like glass.

Wanda stills.

Then she laughs, low, slow, cruel. The sound crawls down your spine like cold fire.

"You moan for me like that and still pretend you have control?" Her fingers twist in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck strains. "Pathetic. You think this is strength? It's submission in disguise."

Her grip tightens. Her magic burns hotter.

"SHIELD trained your body to endure," she hisses against your ear, voice thick with venom and desire, "but they forgot your mind. They forgot what happens when you beg without words."

Her fingers slam into you again, sharp, punishing.

"No one is coming for you. Not SHIELD. Not your handlers. You are mine now. You're ruined for anything but this."

She releases your hair just to shove your face down into the cold floor, your cheek scraping stone.

"I want you to remember this position. Every time you try to be brave, every time you pretend you're not aching for me to take you apart again."

Still, you don't give her the answer.

Then she stills.

You hear her breath, slow, deliberate, as her hands leave you, and the warmth of her body steps away. Your heart pounds, chest heaving. You almost speak, but then....

Cloth rustles behind you.

You dare to look.

Wanda strips with a terrifying calm, peeling her black shirt up over her head like she's shedding a skin. Her body is all sharp lines and soft curves and power humming beneath her skin like a second pulse. She steps out of her pants, slow, deliberate. Not for show. For dominance.

And when she kneels behind you again, bare and burning with magic, she doesn't touch you at first.

She presses her chest to your back, her skin scorching against your spine, her breath hot against your ear.

"Masochist," she purrs, voice like venom-laced silk. "That's what you are. You like being used. Hurt. Fucked raw until your name doesn't matter anymore."

You shudder.

She grinds her hips into you, slick and bare and hard with want, magic still wrapped around your wrists, your thighs, your throat.

"Say it," she whispers. "Say yes to me. Say who you want."

Your mouth moves before your mind can stop it.

"Yes," you moan. "Yes, Wanda."

She groans into your ear, voice guttural.

"Good," she growls. "So am I."

And then she takes you. Not with fingers this time.

You feel it when the magic surges, low and bright and crackling, reshaping her body into something not quite human, not quite divine, but built to ruin you. You cry out as the thick head of something new presses against you, slick and pulsing with red-hot energy. Her hands brace your hips. Her mouth hovers at your ear.

"Do you feel that? That's mine. All of it. Made for you."

You gasp as she pushes in, inch by devastating inch, her breath ragged now, low groans vibrating straight into your spine. Your nails claw at the floor, scraping across stone. Your mouth falls open. No sound. Just raw, wordless pleasure twisted with submission.

She bottoms out and doesn't move.

Her hand slides up your back, curls around your throat. Holds you there.

"Give me the truth," she hisses. "Tell me what SHIELD was after. Tell me who you serve."

You moan instead, neck straining, back arching, walls clenching helplessly around the thick magic she's buried deep inside you.

She thrusts once. Hard. Deliberate. Cruel.

"Say it, agent. Give me the mission, or I'll tear it out of your cunt."

You bite your lip until it splits, your fingers clawing grooves into the stone. Your body betrays you, every nerve alight.

She grabs your hair, yanks your head back, her lips at your ear.

"Tell me why you were really in Berlin," she growls. "Whose blood were you after?"

You whimper through gritted teeth. "You..."

Another thrust, sharper. Deeper.

"What was your extraction plan? What asset did you plant? Don't make me ask again."

You gasp, jaw dropping, unable to form the words fast enough.

She fucks into you again, her magic pulsing through every thrust.

"Tell me who gave the order, agent. Say their name. Say it while I ruin you."

You shake under her, a moan escaping before you can swallow it down.

"That's right," Wanda hisses. "You're not holding out. You're holding back. Because deep down, you want this. You want to give everything to me. And I'm going to take it. All of it."

She slams into you again, and you break.

"You," you sob. "You. You."

Her moan is primal, dark, triumphant.

"Good girl," she breathes. "Now scream it until they hear you in whatever grave SHIELD buried your backup in."

And when you do, loud, wrecked, pleading, she groans low in her throat, hips stuttering before she regains her rhythm with punishing force.

"That's it," she hisses. "You beg so pretty. But I want more. Give me the fucking intel or I pull out and leave you empty."

You cry out, body rocking beneath her, words spilling from your mouth like surrender. "Don't stop. Please—don't stop—"

Her laugh is dark, amused, merciless.

"Then give me a name. Say who sent you. Or I stop right now and make you finish with your own fingers while I watch."

You shake, gasping, desperate. She pulls back halfway. The threat is real.

Your voice cracks as you plead. "No—Wanda, please—"

She presses back in, hard enough to bruise.

"That's better. Keep begging. Keep giving. Or I take my cock and my mercy and leave you in this hole to remember what it felt like to be full of me."

You scream for her again. Not in pain. In total, broken, blissed-out need.

And Wanda? She moans against your ear like she's finally home.

Your face twists, eyelids fluttering, mouth slack, sweat and tears mixing as you writhe beneath her. Your voice is no longer defiant, it's raw, pleading, desperate.

"I'll tell you," you choke out. "Just—don't stop. Please, don't stop."

Her groan is vicious, satisfied, dragging against your spine. She doesn't stop. She moves harder.

"There she is," Wanda hisses. "The obedient little mouth I've been waiting for. Give it to me. Now."

Your moans break around the words. "It was coded intel—drop point under the checkpoint in Berlin. They wanted your extraction pattern—your weaknesses—"

"None," she snaps, biting your shoulder. "I have none."

"I know," you sob, gasping. "I know—please—"

She fucks you deeper, like reward, like punishment.

"Say it again. Who do you belong to?"

"You," you moan, eyes rolling back. "Only you."

She groals in your ear, dark and ravenous.

"That's right. And you'll never belong to anyone else again."

You whimper beneath her, barely able to breathe between moans. "They have files," you gasp. "Everything on you. Enhanced surveillance. Power pattern analysis. Emergency strike plans in case you went rogue—"

Wanda snarls, driving her hips forward with sudden fury. "They planned for this? For me?"

"Yes!" you sob. "But nothing—nothing that could stop you. Please—"

Her hand wraps around your waist and she shifts position, dragging your body up with hers. She presses your back to her chest, spreading your legs wider with her knees, fucking you at a new angle that sends lightning down your spine.

You throw your head back against her shoulder, moaning openly now.

"Right there—right there—please don't stop—"

"Then keep talking," she commands. Her voice is a growl against your ear. "Tell me what else they know. Tell me what they fear."

You babble through tears and broken gasps. "They know you're unstable—they think grief is your weakness—but it's not, it's not—"

"No," Wanda breathes, her pace brutal, delicious. "Grief made me free."

She shifts again, slamming into you harder from behind, forcing your palms flat to the floor as you sob beneath her.

"Say it again," she growls. "Say whose name you scream for."

"Wanda—" you cry. "Yours—only yours—"

And she rewards you with everything.

Her hips snap. Her power sears. Her mouth is a weapon pressed to your throat.

And you break for her again, giving her every secret you were trained to die with.

"They had contingency spells," you gasp, shaking beneath her. "Dark tech—backdoor psionics keyed to your DNA signature—please, right there—"

Wanda groans behind you, thrusts sharpening, pace punishing. "Keep going. You talk, I fuck you deeper. That's the deal."

"They were working with the Sorcerer Supreme," you moan, eyes rolling back, hips jerking back into her. "Mystic containment units—fail-safe tech hidden in Prague—I wasn't supposed to engage—I just—I had to see you—"

She groals, slamming into you so hard your hands scramble against the floor for purchase.

"Good girl," she snarls. "Keep confessing. Every word makes you tighter. Do you feel that? That's your body begging to betray everything you stood for."

You sob out, "Don't stop—please, Wanda, I'm yours—I'll give you everything—"

She leans in, lips at your neck, breath hot and cruel. "You already have.""

Her thrusts slow, grinding, deep, drawing out every sob, every broken moan she's pulled from your throat. She presses a kiss to your jaw, wet and open-mouthed, her voice a low snarl against your skin.

"All that training," she murmurs, "and this is what finally breaks you."

Your nails scrape helplessly at the floor, your back arching as she pounds into you again. You can't form words. You don't need to.

"You gave them everything," she growls, nipping at your shoulder, "and they gave you to me."

Another thrust. Then another.

"And now," she whispers, voice dark with satisfaction, "you're going to come for me like the good little traitor you are."

And when you do, screaming her name, there's no doubt who owns you.

Your body locks, every nerve alight, your orgasm crashing through you like a warhead. You sob her name again and again, voice cracking on every breathless syllable. Wanda doesn't stop, not until she groans low and deep behind you, her body shuddering against yours.

You feel her pulse, thick and hot, deep inside, magic flaring red across your skin like sparks in a blackout. She pants into your neck, pressing tighter, nails digging into your hips.

Then, slowly, she pulls out.

You collapse to the floor, shaking, spent. You don't dare move. Can't.

She rises, naked and towering, unhurried as she gathers her clothes. Red tendrils of energy curl protectively around her skin, warding, cloaking. Her body is still flushed, lips parted, chest rising in deep, satisfied breaths.

Her voice breaks the silence like a spell. "SHIELD thinks they've caged a god. They're wrong. I'm going to burn their plans. Their files. Their cities."

You stare up at her, dazed, ruined.

She steps toward the door, pausing just long enough to look back over her shoulder.

"Rest up, agent. When I come back—"

Her lips curl.