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Natasha Romanoff had always known that her romantic partner soulmate, Clarke Griffin, her darling, darling feral godlike being, would never, ever be tame. Never.
And she would never want her little feral mate to be tame in any capacity.
Even when she had seen Clarke in that tree a year ago in the Ice Nation, when Clarke had been twenty, she had always known that Clarke would never be tame. Never.
And she wouldn’t ask the younger woman to be tame. Not then back in the Ice Nation and not now a year later, after a year of Natasha and Clarke sleeping together, and Clarke was now twenty-one. She wouldn’t ask for that.
However, she had learned that there were certain…………benefits to her finding ways of occasionally breaking Clarke, and then repairing her. Seeing Clarke trust her so completely, and showing how right Clarke was to trust her, to fuck Clarke into submission, giving the younger woman exactly what she needed, and eventually break the younger woman, as the younger woman wished.
As Clarke writhed under Natasha tonight, the redhead smiled down at her beloved, a catlike smile gracing her face.
“Tell me what is you want me to do to you, malyshka,” Natasha instructed her beloved mate, “I won’t do anything until you tell me what it is you need, moya devushka.”
Clarke groaned, laying her head back against the mattress, whimpering.
“Go on, malen’kiy,” Natasha purred, “Tell me,” she cooed, mouth close to Clarke’s lips, “Tell me what it is you want.”
Natasha gently began to pull her fingers out of Clarke’s cunt.
Clarke squirmed, eyes snapping open.
“Please, please!” She begged, staring imploringly up at Natasha, desperate.
Natasha smirked. “I’ll do as you wish, malen’kiy,” Natasha crooned, “But only when you give me what I want. I will give you want you want, but I need to hear you say it, devushka.”
Clarke squirmed under Natasha, and Natasha knew that Clarke could throw Natasha off if she wanted, after all Clarke was strong enough. She was stronger physically than anyone or anything, so she could throw Natasha off. But Natasha knew that she wouldn’t. And Clarke knew that she wouldn’t.
Natasha asked teasingly, “Do you want to use your safeword?”
Clarke shook her head and Natasha’s smirk widened. She already knew that Clarke wouldn’t use the safeword.
“Please,” Clarke groaned, trying to spread her legs further and trying to pump her hips into Natasha’s hand.
Natasha, however, didn’t move, unfortunately.
“Please…………,” Clarke pleaded with the older woman.
Natasha shook her head, still smirking. “I don’t think so, devushka,” she said, “You won’t get any of it, until you tell me what I want to hear.”
Clarke whined and Natasha chuckled. She would give Clarke exactly what she wanted. But only when Clarke said the magic words.
She could see the desperation grow on the younger woman’s face.
“Just say it, love,” Natasha urged, “I’ll do it when you say it.”
And she would, as well. But first? Clarke needed to break.
Clarke built herself up to be borderline invincible. To be honest, she WAS borderline invincible. But, despite that?
Regardless of Clarke basically being invincible, Clarke would always bend to Natasha’s will, and Natasha knew that her hold sexually on Clarke would make the younger woman break. Soon enough.
Clarke wouldn’t be able to hide behind that armor of anger and hostility for much longer. Her pleading would come out and turn more desperate soon enough.
Eventually, Clarke couldn’t stand it anymore.
Clarke whimpered, all but sobbing now, “Mommy, please, I’ll do anything. Just fuck me.”
Natasha grinned. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. But you know what? Close enough.
Natasha purred, “Good girl.” She then thrust her fingers right back into Clarke, thrusting in and out, left knee rubbing against Clarke’s clit now.
Clarke shrieked, thrashing under the redhead, eyes closing as she was arching up off the bed, moaning uncontrollably.
Natasha chuckled, watching her beloved get ravaged by her pleasure.
There it was.
Her beloved breaking under her, weeping.
Natasha lowered herself, wrapping her mouth around Clarke’s right nipple, sucking at the hardened nub, hard, occasionally gently biting it. Clarke cried out some more at each act of stimulation.
Natasha smiled around Clarke’s nipple, eyes never leaving Clarke, watching the blonde writhing around under her.
The word, “fuck,” wasn’t the word that she had wanted to hear from her Clarke, but she supposed it was a start.
She pulled her mouth away from Clarke’s nipple, then moved to the other nipple, and began sucking hard on it next, still smirking.
She watched Clarke writhe and thought to herself, (I’m not fucking you. I’m making love to you, malen’kiy. But that’s alright. You’ll learn that soon enough, moya malen’kiy olenenok.)
And Natasha? She thrust harder into Clarke than before, still rubbing the younger woman’s clit, still sucking on the younger woman’s nipple and watched with predatory delight, as Clarke broke further under her, screaming louder than Natasha had ever heard her scream previously and Natasha crooned, loving the music of Clarke’s cries.