#softdark!natasha romanoff

[novoaa1writes]

come, sit, stay

image source

pairing(s): softdark!natasha romanoff x gnc!reader

summary:

You have to resist the urge to shrink away when she lowers herself to a crouch. All at once, she’s close, too close, close enough that you could reach through the bars and touch her if you wanted. 

“Look at me, pup.”

You do. The expression on her face is neither malicious nor lustful; rather, devoid of emotionality. Utterly unreadable. 

No matter. Lost though you may be, you harbor no illusions about the vulnerability of your current state. She holds your leash; she has since she caught you. You know it, and she does, too. 

Or: You haven't the faintest clue what it's like to have an owner—much less someone like her.

contains: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization

[cross-posted on ao3]

word count: ~1,400

rating: mature

warnings: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization, referenced non-con body modification, referenced non-con medical experimentation/surgery, minor blood, power imbalance, light bondage (cage)

notes: continuation of/companion to a recent work! (link below) i’ve decided to rename the first work and file this under the series name “build-a-pet” ‘cause i mean. that’s kinda what’s happening here and all, ya dig

also, i’m not doing tag lists anymore (with the exception of the ongoing “find you again” series), because i suck at them. sorryyy

see end notes for translation of russian terms!

— —

previous part: day 0

— —

You awake to aching limbs, a dry throat, and curious smells. 

Consciousness comes gradually. A rare mercy, but the pounding in your skull tells you you’ve already slept far too long to bask in it. 

Prying open one eyelid, then two, you scan your surroundings with bleary eyes. You’re curled on your side, bare-ass naked, both knees folded to your chest inside… a rectangular cage. A quick glance finds its dimensions larger than you’re used to, with ample room to sit up and crawl on all fours. The bars are thinner, too, but you’ve no doubt they’re quite secure; and the door…

The door. Panic grips you. 

It’s open. No lock in sight. 

What kind of cage doesn’t lock?

Where the hell are you?

You’re quick to rise to all fours as your search turns frantic, adrenaline and fear eclipsing all tearing aches from inactivity and injury until it’s all you can do to keep from vibrating with the force of it. Your heartbeat thuds double-time in your chest, wide-eyed gaze darting this way and that. 

You don’t see much—tall ceilings, a well-lit fireplace, twin lounge chairs complete with matching ottomans—before a pair of startling green eyes meet your own, effectively nailing you to the spot. 

Natasha leans casually against the nearby wall wearing a lazy smirk that broadens when your gaze catches hers. She hasn’t changed since last you saw her; donning black jeans, a wife beater, and a well-worn leather jacket. Scarlet-red hair is pulled back and woven into twin braids that tickle her shoulders. Her face is devoid of makeup, though it does nothing to dull her beauty. 

She could have been there for hours or minutes; you’ve no way of telling. 

As you watch, she cocks a single, well-manicured brow. 

At that, you realize you’re staring. Cheeks burning, you hasten to lower your gaze to the floor.

“Finally awake, then,” she rumbles in a low, contralto drawl. It’s not a question. “How’d you sleep?”

Her voice comes from much closer, this time, causing you to flinch like you’ve been struck. 

If you strain your downcast gaze, you can just glimpse the scuffed toes of her boots in your periphery. Christ. You hadn’t even heard her move. 

“Okay, thank you,” you murmur politely. The words feel like gravel in your throat. 

Whatever Stark did to you, it’s made speaking a nuisance. It scrapes your throat, burns your lungs. It feels unnatural, period. Who wants a talking pet, anyhow? 

You have to resist the urge to shrink away when she lowers herself to a crouch. All at once, she’s close, too close, close enough that you could reach through the bars and touch her if you wanted. 

“Look at me, pup.”

You do. The expression on her face is neither malicious nor lustful; rather, devoid of emotionality. Utterly unreadable. 

No matter. 

Lost though you may be, you harbor no illusions about the vulnerability of your current state. She holds your leash; she has since she caught you. You know it, and she does, too. 

“Does it hurt to talk?”

Your cheeks burn. Biting your lip hard, you nod. 

Natasha nods, as though this answer pleases her. “Are you in any pain?”

That gives you pause. Of course you’re in pain. Is this a trick?

The tick in her jaw suggests she’s displeased by your reticence. Slowly, carefully, you chance another nod. 

“Can you crawl?”

You almost huff, but think better of it at the last second. You nod once more.

Her lips twitch. With amusement or satisfaction, you can’t tell. “Молодец,” she murmurs, rising to her feet and turning on her heel. She does not spare a backwards glance as she strides over to the crackling fireplace, then settles into a cross-legged position in the center of the rug, her back to you. “Ко мне,” she calls, little more than an afterthought. 

Regardless, the effect is the same.

You shoot up on all fours with a speed that makes you wince, biting your lip hard to smother the pained whimper that follows. It’s a reflex, a mistake. You should know better, but realization doesn’t hit until it’s too late, until small fangs have broken skin, and it’s all you can do to bite back a hiss. You don’t need a mirror to know you’re bleeding. 

Your lapse costs you. You spring forth perhaps a bit too hastily, trading the padded floor of the crate for gleaming marble. Pain traverses your veins like wildfire. 

Your knees smart as you clamber over, fingertips curled beneath knuckles in that paw-esque fashion that now comes as naturally to you as breathing. Stark and his stupid, infernal experiments. 

Blood, warm and wet, wells up along your lower lip. Reflexively, your tongue flicks out to lap it up. The metallic taste is a comfort, however fleeting. 

You couldn’t sneak up on her if you tried, but you don’t dare expect that to mean she’d permit being approached from behind. Circling ‘round, you give her a wide berth. The heat of the fire sears your skin, yet the carpet lining proves a welcome comfort. As you reach Natasha, the acuity of sensation fades and you slow to a wary crawl, uncertainty thumping in your chest. 

You imagine her gaze boring into you—through you. Blood stains your lips anew, its coppery scent tickling your nostrils. 

“Ближе,” she murmurs. You don’t understand this one, and she must know it, for she’s quick to translate: “Closer.”

Dutifully, you shuffle forth until your knuckles graze her folded legs.

“Сидеть.”

This one, evidently, you know. 

You fall back on your heels at once, muscles deflating in a dizzying rush. Gnarled hands pull themselves into your lap, and your chin dips lower toward your chest—a show of deference.

When her fingers brush your jaw, you don’t dare flinch back. You hold still, perfectly still as they travel down and forth, coming to rest beneath your chin. When they urge you up, you go without protest, tilting your jaw up until you have to strain to keep your own kneecaps in sight. At this angle, you could look her in the eye if you dared. 

You’re not that dumb. 

“Глаза,” she murmurs. “Eyes.”

You oblige. 

Her gaze burns where it meets yours. 

You clench your jaw and bear it. 

It’s a relief when it flickers down to your lips… and stays there. 

“You’re bleeding,” she observes, sounding perhaps awed, or engrossed, or something else entirely. Her eyes are darker now, no longer such a lurid jade-green hue. A trick of the light, perhaps? 

You swallow. 

Gently, deliberately, she swipes at pooling copper with the pad of her thumb. 

The slight touch sends a shudder down your spine, but you pay it little mind. Seconds later, the warmth of her touch leaves your chin; you hardly notice that, either. 

You’re possessed, spellbound as she brings her thumb to parted lips, engulfs the tip and then some—suckles at the taste of you with slightly hollowed-out cheeks and a groan that cleaves to the marrow of your bones. 

Your thighs tremble, making you clench in an effort to hold still. 

She eyes you with interest when she’s finished, thumb pressed idly against pouted lips. “Sweet,” she hums. 

Were your complexion about three shades lighter, you’d be blushing pink to the roots of your hair. As it is, you can’t help wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

Her next command takes you by surprise. “Лежать.” Lie down. 

You hate the disappointment that blooms in your chest even as your body does not hesitate to follow. You’re in position before you understand what’s happened, all curled up and ball-shaped on the rug like a housecat settling in for an afternoon nap. 

It’s as though a switch has been flipped.

Fatigue follows fast on its heels, dousing you like a tidal wave. Is it conditioning, or is it you? 

Is there a difference? 

It’s humiliating. It’s wonderful. Your limbs assume the position like they’re made for it. You suppose, now, they kind of are.

The crackling fire is warm along your back. You almost preen when a familiar touch parts bedraggled strands of hair, blunt nails grazing along your scalp in a soothing rhythm. The rumbling purr that follows is no surprise. Sleep tugs at you, and you are tired of fighting it. You’re tired, period. 

“Sleep, котёнок. I’m here.”

It’s the last thing you hear before unconsciousness swallows you whole. 

— —

end notes: right so.... me when there’s.... right. yes. you all understand, i’m sure... .....

no idea if i wanna continue this (like ideally, yes, but as always, i’m pressed for time, so this is what i’ve got right now), but uhhhh yeah. lemme know what you think?

translation for russian terms (stresses marked in bold):

молодец | molodyets | excellent, good

ко мне | ko mnye | “come” (to me)

ближе | blizhe | comparative degree of близко (adverb) and близкий (adjective) meaning “closer”

сидеть | sidyet’ | infinitive form of the verb “to sit.” used when telling a pet (a dog, specifically) to sit

глаза | glaza | eyes (nominative plural form)

лежать | lyezhat’ | infinitive form of the verb “to lie (down).” used when telling a pet (read: dog) to lie down

котёнок | kotyonok | kitten

— —

link to masterlist

[springlibrary]

Here is a quick navigation to all my stories if you so wish to read them. 

I mostly write dark/explicit fics but I do have some lighter stuff in there.

Please read warnings provided before proceeding to read a fic.

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Game of Thrones

Jorah Mormont

MARVEL

Vision

Loki

Thor

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Tony Stark

Other MCU Characters

Good for Us (Bruce Banner x F!Reader)

Orange Juice and Kisses (Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff)

No Loose Ends (Bucky Barnes x F!Reader)

Sebastian Stan Characters

No One Special (Dark!Lee Bodecker x F!Reader) — You were never special to Lee. To him, you were simply one of them.

The Guardian (SoftDark!Lee Bodecker x F!Reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader) — Sheriff Bodecker is always there to save you even when you think he isn’t.

Should’ve (Dark!Lee Bodecker x F!Reader) — You begin to regret leaving your home in the midst of your punishment.

From Blue to Green (Dark!Lee Bodecker x F!Reader) — Your husband’s jealousy forces you to enter another chapter in your life.

Dead End (Dark!Lee Bodecker x F!Reader)

— You bump into the sheriff during one of your runs.

Tom Hiddleston Characters

Against the Tide (Dark!Biker!James Conrad x F!Reader) — Your life takes an unexpected turn as the leader of the biker gang that took over your town sets his eyes on you.

Radio Silence (Dark!Jonathan Pine x Agent!F!Reader) — Your mission to capture Jonathan Pine goes sideways in the most unexpected way.

Pedro Pascal Characters

House Arrest (Dark!Joel Miller x F!Reader) — Your mom goes to attend a work conference for a couple of days, leaving you home alone with her husband.

On the Lookout (Dark!Joel Miller x F!Reader) — The excitement rolling through your veins as a new ranger in Jackson County turns into fear when you realize the true intentions of your partner.

Home Sweet Home (Dark!Joel Miller x F!Reader) — Ellie finds out about your relationship with Joel in the worst way possible.

Thicker than Water (Dark!Joel Miller x F!Reader) — You’re Tommy’s girl but Joel wants to make you his.

Rebound (Dark!Joel Miller x F!Reader) — Your night of wallowing in your misery takes a different turn when your dad’s best friend bumps into you at the bar. 

Chris Evans Characters

Within the Shadows — Secrets are revealed amidst the celebration of your brother’s ascent to underboss.

[romanoffsbish]

The Aftermath: Our Pretty Princess

Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader (Brief/Established)

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff(Widowed)

Queen!Wanda x King!Valkyrie

DarkQueen!Wanda x Fem!Reader x SoftDarkKing!Valkyrie

18+ | Minors DNI | Smut!!! 🥵

TA: Stickier Situation(Next)

Requested by the lovely @simplysimping999 I hope this lives up to your expectations my friend. 🥹❤️

Warnings:

Protected sex/Dick riding (W Receiving, V Giving), Non-Con, Somnophilia(R Receiving, W Giving), Masturbation(Val), Panty sniffing(Val), Blood(R's), Breeding/Penetration(R Receiving, V Giving), Oral (W Receiving, R Giving), Mommy/Daddy, Degradation, punishment (face slap), Fucked to sleep(R)

Mentions of endgame, kidnapping, sprinkle of Stockholm, manipulation, mind erasing

Wanda Maximoff had a lot to consider after the whole Thanos debacle, after being forced into killing her best friend, then to still lose, and be forced to return to a world that no longer included the love of her life.

Natasha Romanoff—feared by most, but was literally a teddy bear behind closed doors; she gave her life to a world that never deserved her to begin with, and Wanda was beyond furious. No more were the days of loss she thought after losing her family, but boy was she wrong.

Valkyrie also had a lot to consider, seeing as how she'd spent most of her days drunk, waking up on the beds of the women who's hearts she'd toyed with, too afraid to commit after the battle where she'd been made to lose. Being given the throne of New Asgard was the least she'd expected, but when a broken down, exhausted Thor approached her she wasn't going to just say no to him.

———

She now has this title to live up to, something about "honor," and "nobility," and if it wasn't for Thor she'd be long gone. Now she's faced with this concept of needing a person worthy of settling down with, someone to pose as her right hand—her Queen.

Apparently, the women decided to spend their time considering their options wrapped up beneath the sheets together after a grueling battle in which they'd only just met.

When on the battlefield Valk had been instantly drawn to Wanda, the rage behind her eyes being something she'd been all too familiar with. She recognized the loss behind her fury immediately, and her heart attempted to crack open with memories of her own. Shoving them down she did what she did best, she fought side by side with the field full of strangers all with a need to avenge something.

Wanda had always been able to split her focus, it came with the territory of hearing others thoughts, because if not she'd never be able to get anything done. So while absolutely ripping the mad titan to shreds, she could hear all of Valkyrie's sinful thoughts about her. She'd also heard the curious ones, where she worked to find out what exactly had happened, but those quickly subsided as it appeared her attraction to the witch grew tenfold.

Though she didn't want the pity stares, almost everyone approached her with one as the battle had ended. The only one she welcomed from the archer who's well overdue for retirement. They held each other close, both quietly sobbing before he was off to reunite with his family, with requests that Wanda would eventually be by to do the same.

Upon meeting the warrior though, she was fortunately met with eyes free of judgement, free of expectation, and being that she wanted to just forget, she was quick to give in to the lusty undertones in her gaze. Valkyrie had intended to be soft at first, but Wanda was having none of it, so she threw her down onto the hotel's bed and used her to get off.

Valkyrie watched in aroused bewilderment as the witch took control, only seeming to care about herself in the moment, and to finally be on the receiving end of that had the Asgardian hooked. Knowing that the witches loss must be fresh she didn't want to overwhelm her, but the question she was about to ask really had no other implications, so she used the redheads brief moment of fatigue to ask.

"Be my queen?" She asks while slowly pumping into the women, Wanda's ability to process, let alone reply cut off as both women's orgasms overtake them.

Wanda's eyes shot open as soon as the pleasure faded and the unbearable pain had returned. As soon as she was peering into the women's eyes that were hovering above her she felt dirty. The immense guilt overcame her for a brief moment as she realized the dirt on her wife's grave isn't even settled, she's actually not even sure if it's placed.

Silently she left the hotel room, leaving Valkyrie stunned, but not at all discouraged. She's not clueless, it's obvious this was a moment of necessary release, she'd know since she'd been doing the exact same thing for literal centuries. Shall the witch deem her questions of interest, then she'll be able to find her, and based on the lost gaze she's certain she'd show at some point.

—

On a hot Summer's day, when Valkyrie was in her attire deemed for hard labor she began working with the townspeople to build up New Asgard. It was coming along rather beautifully, and she was more than excited for the finishing touches to be in place so she could relax.

Every day she spent working she was encouraged to stop, being King and all, but she always used the "nobility" angle to keep pushing. Really though, the labor had helped her to be too tired for sinful one night stands in the nighttime with the alluring townsfolk.

Valkyrie was set on being a changed woman, but holding out was surely becoming difficult. That night she returned home as the sun began to set, changing into a loose fitting tank, and a pair of boxers she settled before her TV with a microwave dinner. A knock on her door shook her from her beer induced slumber, and in her dazed state she'd opened the door without considering changing.

"Hello your royal highness, mind putting your friend away? I'm here to conduct business."

The Sokovian's raspy voice rang through the space between them, nearly knocking the sex deprived King to her knees as she was overcome by unbearable need. Quickly she stepped to the side though, allowing the witch into her humble abode, and situated herself on the couch with a pillow over her crotch.

"So.." Wanda began her long winded speech, Valkyrie nodding from time to time in a sort of agreement.

Though deep down they both hope for love, the guarded women accepted this agreement of sharing in the power together. Valkyrie would allocate Wanda with the duties of engaging with the town, and any and all things media related as she obviously had the kinder approach. Valkyrie would maintain a strong line of defense, help in maintaining a sense of peace as well as remain a strong figure head in place to remind the towns sparing groups of scaly wags to remain in line.

Together they worked perfectly to maintain, the sex being an added bonus that both were able to appreciate in time, neither would fully admit it, but love had indeed blossomed. Wanda was only there part time though, as she still remained a part time Avenger whenever the world had grown too grim.

Wanda was weary of remaining on Earth, having grown rather accustomed to her life elsewhere, and if she was honest being away from her King became harder each time she left. She'd done more than her share for those on Earth, the same people so willing to lock her up all those years prior, so she was actually prepared to resign.

One thing, or more specifically one person, had been her main reason for remaining on Earth. You'd assume it would be Clint, or even Yelena, but it was neither, it was actually a newer face walking around the compound.

You were no Avenger, but instead a simple young woman, quite literally with the physical strength of a mouse, but that just made you all the more adorable. A college student studying Environmental Science at NYU, with your girlfriend Kate Bishop right by your side. After a run in with her "friends" at one eventful Christmas gala you quickly found yourself immersed in the world of the Avengers. Though it was intimidating, you would've done anything for Kate, even live a life full of danger.

Wanda was infatuated with you, somehow you were completely unscathed by the darkness of the world. There was no denying you were perfect, so whenever she was on Earth she found anyway to be close to you, which usually meant impromptu snuggles while watching movies, or dancing together at the compound parties thrown in honor of Stark, the same ones Wanda wouldn't be caught dead at before you had arrived.

Even if it did always rub Kate the wrong way, she'd say nothing knowing that you would never cheat on her, and that all you wanted was to make people feel loved. After hearing about Wanda's late wife all you wanted was to aide her through her grief, offering her your shoulder to cry on. Your intentions were of the purest intent, but sadly all you did was further the witches insatiable need for you.

Wanda didn't like your willingness to be in danger for someone like Kate, who clearly lacked the ability to actually protect you. If you were to be hers, and by proxy her King's, then you'd be safe. You'd never want for anything, no hair would be out of place. You'd be their perfect princess, tending to the household while they're out maintaining the town, and you'd be their perfect means of stress relief.

Wanda decided after the last time she visited that you were going to be theirs, so while taking care of her King's needs she mentioned bringing someone else into the relationship. Valkyrie's heart had been close to shattering, feelings of inadequacy bubbling to the surface, but Wanda was quick to quell her concerns.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Val—My King—insecurity isn't a cute look on you.." She taunts her wife beneath her, hands squeezing her breasts in the same time that she's slowly rising, and falling back down her cock, pulling a deep moan from the woman.

"If I wanted to leave you, I would've already... It's just, we're both too busy to maintain the castle we've built, and if we're ever going to have kids it's best we find a docile princess who can handle it all. To chase the kids around while we ensure the town stays a safe place for them to grow up"

Wanda briefly kissed her lips while grinding against her, bringing the both of them that much closer to their releases.

"Someone to suck you off while we enjoy a fresh hot meal after a hard day of work together."

Her pace increased, lips nibbling at her jawline before dropping near her ear, hot breaths fanning across the expanse of her neck, lips inching to whisper into her ear.

"An innocent thing for us to break and mold into our perfect little printsessa.. To fuck our frustrations out on, and to breed."

Valkyrie's head was dizzying the more Wanda spoke of this mystery girl—you. Rather suddenly she wrapped her arm around Wanda's waist, taking the control while flipping them rather aggressively, slamming Wanda into the mattress and thrusting so deeply that her bulge was visible through the witches stomach. Wanda pressed down firmly on her abdomen, causing the both of them to scream out in blinding pleasure as their releases came flooding out of them. Wanda's arousal drenching the latex, while Valkyrie's abundant load filled the condom.

"Fuck, Wanda... You speak of her as if she already exists..." She pants out while collapsing into her lovers equally as sweaty body, head perfectly nestled between her breasts, and strong arms wrapping around Wanda's tiny waist.

"That's because she does my sweet girl..." Wanda lightly chuckles out, placing a sweet kiss to her forehead while running her hands up and down her back, lulling her to sleep before also falling asleep to thoughts of you.

Valkyrie was hesitant at first, but the more Wanda described you, the more willing she was becoming to welcoming you into their relationship. For someone who'd spent most of her later life playing the field, adding a pretty young thing into her established relationship was just what she needed, so her hesitancy was quickly replaced with excitement.

Plans were set in motion, Wanda had been called to earth by the one and only Stephen Strange who'd been in over his head for what could only be considered the zillionth time. While Wanda was sorting out Peter's problems, she actually found a solution to her own, a spell to use once she was ready.

When at the compound Wanda had been purposefully telling everyone of the news. Apparently New Asgard was open to others now, a portal of sorts created to bridge the two worlds together, and once you heard her announcement you were extremely ecstatic.

"Katy-Kat! Did you hear her? Looks like we have our perfect summer trip in order."

Kate had shared your enthusiasm, catching your body when you came running at her, giggling along with you before kissing you tenderly.

Wanda's jaw momentarily clenched at your excited squeals being directed at your underserving girlfriend, but she reminded herself that in due time you'll be theirs, and all your delicious sounds will be for them.

All she had to do was to make sure you arrived without Kate. Which was easy enough, because as the both of you approached the portal Kate's phone went off.

"Clint! Slow down, okay, I understand, I'm on my way..."

Your heart broke as her rushed words came together to form an image you'd slowly grown used to. Avenging always came first, you fully understood, but it never got easier for you.

"My love.."

"I heard.." You deflate, and she quickly wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you in and pecking the entirety of your face to cheer you up.

"Katy, stop... You have to go, it's okay... I'll just go ho—."

"No, baby, keep our bed warm in the hotel. Promise I'll be here before the night ends."

Kate pulled back from you, handing over her suitcase, then in one swift motion her outfit is ripped off to reveal her suit.

"Like my party trick?" She teases, and your giggles help to settle the guilt in her heart.

"Yeah, but party tricks won't save the world, so go, then come back to me... I have a trick of my own planned for the night." You tease, winking oh so subtly as you do.

Kate smirks at your innuendo, then kisses your cheek before running off, leaving you to enter through the portal. Unbeknownst to either of you though was the permanency of the portal, seeing as how as soon as you walked through it, it closed.

Now it was Valkyrie's time to shine, watching closely as you enter her town, and adjusting her pants to conceal how excited she'd become. The trap was set in motion, all you had to do was step into it, and with your lack of perception on direction it was almost too easy.

While searching for signs to get to your hotel—that didn't exist—you saw an ice cream shop. Wanda knew you well enough to know that would grab your attention, and Valkyrie watches in amusement as you run in to collect a triple scooped cone.

As soon as you exited with the cone a child ran by, knocking the cone into your clothes, leaving you covered in the sticky goodness. Then as if the day couldn't get worse, before you could walk across the way to the public restrooms another group of kids came barreling through. Both yours, and Kate's bags were thrown into the ocean, and on instinct you went to jump in.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around you, the smell of the woman's cologne had you reeling as she gently twirled you around until you were facing her.

"Honey, that was a close call there... Those waters are unforgiving territory, did you miss the signs?"

Her smooth accented voice works to calm your nerves, and the friendly smile finishes the job.

"Sorry, it's just, some kids kinda ruined my clothes, then knocked the rest of them into the water."

"No need to apologize little dove, how about you come with me?"

Your body language shifted, and Valkyrie picked up on the hesitancy instantly.

"How bold of me, please let my introduce myself first. I'm Valkyrie, technically the King of the land, but the titles not really necessary out here. All of our shops are closed for the day, so the only clothes I can offer you belong to my wife—Wanda Maximoff."

Your face lights up at the sound of your familiar friends name being uttered, and you're hardly able to contain your little dance, your day is starting to look up.

"Oh my gosh! Hi! I'm Y/N, and I've heard so much about you."

Valkyrie chuckles at your statement, uttering the same back, then helping you to mount her Pegasus before following suit to take you back to the castle.

—

Wanda was still on Earth, helping the group to fight the sudden influx of monsters attacking the city of New York.

"Where the hell did these devils come from?" Kate shrieks, standing back to back with Clint, shooting her trick arrow off at the same time as him, hitting the octopus inspired monster directly in its eye for a takedown.

"It's unclear, but according to my knowledge, and their markings they seem to have been sent here by a witch of sorts." Strange relays before being propelled into a nearby shop.

"Wanda! Can you trace it back to anyone?" Clint shouts through his comms, but she's quick to feign ignorance.

"Listen, I have magic, but I'm not a spell casting witch, so no, I have no idea how to do so." She replies annoyedly, but is able to pass off said annoyance as she's wrestling with another one of her creatures.

Once the fight seems to end all too suddenly everyone returns to the compound to get patched up, Wanda's quick to slip out unnoticed, leaving to enter the basement of the sanctorum, casting the same spell that Strange had recently fucked up to absolute perfection.

"Oh printsessa... How sad is it that nobody's going to remember you..." She darkly coos preparing to leave before the incoming steps can catch sight of her.

With the snap of her fingers she's back in Asgard, placing your contained spell into a safe in her secret basement in the castle before setting off to see if Valkyrie completed her end. Walking into the room to see you in her creme shaded camisole, and a pair of red, lacy panties she sees she obviously did. She can't help but to stare, wondering what it is you're thinking about, but she's quick to reroute your mind.

Red wisps travel over to your relaxed form, entering your mind, and filling it with filthy thoughts of the witch, and her warrior. Valkyrie's arms suddenly wrap around her from behind, settling her head on her shoulder she peers over at your body as well.

"I returned to find all your pants in the wash." Valkyrie chuckles into her wife's ear, and the witch giggles along.

"Oh no, how inconvenient..."

"She's beautiful..."

"Yeah, and she's all ours..." Wanda confirms, placing her hands over her lovers and before she can turn to initiate anything your whimpers pull her attention back to you.

The newfound wet patch on your panties brings the witch so much joy, and she feels as your sounds do the same to her wife.

Wanda's first to move towards the bed, using her magic she removes your panties, and throws them over to the woman behind her before climbing onto the bed and leveling herself with your drenched pussy. Your unique scent suddenly fills her nostrils, leaving her practically drooling as thoughts of ravishing you steadily consume her.

Taking it slow she lightly blows your cunt, watching the way your body jolts at the sudden rush of cold air. Still you remain asleep, which is honestly her preference in the moment. Languidly she runs her tongue through your folds, moaning as your slick travels across her tastebuds, and as she becomes consumed with your taste she no longer feels the need to hold back as she dives right in.

Valkyrie was sat in a corner chair, watching as Wanda ate you out, the sight alone causes her cock to ache with a need for release. With one hand she begins to stroke her cock, starting slowly to build herself up at a decent pace. Using the other she lifts your panties to her face, deeply inhaling your scent, which in turn leaves her desperate for you, and within a matter of moments she's increasing her pace and prematurely releasing at the same moment Wanda's ministrations seemed to wake you up.

"What's going on... ? Wanda, I-I.."

"Shh printsessa... Mommy's just taking care of your needs, your loud whines led us in here to find your panties beyond drenched..."

"Wanda, I have a girlfriend..."

Wanda slaps your cheek the moment those words leave your lips, leaving you completely shocked, but it's honestly more than enough to silence you.

"No, you actually don't, and that's not my name!" She growls out, then viciously her lips attach to yours.

Moving against your still lips, she becomes rather angry at your lack of reciprocation, so she pulls your lower lip back and harshly bites it, drawing blood. Her thumb tenderly runs across your cheek to wipe away your tears, then it slowly travels down. Mixing your tears with the blood that now stains your chin, then she's lifting her coated thumb up to her lips to suck upon the mixture—giving you whiplash.

"Tell me honey, what were you dreaming about?" Wanda asks, feigning cluelessness.

You run hot with embarrassment at the vivid imagery that once again consumes your mind, unwilling to divulge said information, which if you were thinking clearly you'd know is pointless since she can literally hear every thought you've ever had.

"What did you do to Kate?" You ask fiercely, ignoring her question, and preparing for another round of slapping.

"Oh don't you worry, Kate's more than fine, actually without you there to hold her back she's doing extremely well."

"I didn't hold her back." You meekly state, tears ferociously running down your cheeks, but the witch ignores them, and continues to dig the knife in further.

"Oh, but you did. Kate was distracted by you, now that for her you never existed, she's doing amazingly. Clint was able to leave her to take over his mantle, and she graduated a whole year early."

"What do you mean I never existed?"

"Let's not break that pretty brain of yours..." Wanda taunts, face feigning sympathy.

"Wanda, please explain..."

Your inconsolable sobs gnaw at her heart in the slightest bit, so in a simple way she explains.

"Nobody on Earth knows who you are..."

She pauses to place a kiss to your wet cheeks.

"...There's also no way back to Earth for you..."

Pausing once more to see you processing her words, a fresh set of tears falling as you do.

"You're officially our pretty little princess, so it's best you get used to it honey..."

Your tears don't stop, but your resistance seems to, lazily you meet her lips efforts as she kisses you with immense passion.

"Now, what were your dreams about honey?"

You're more than aware now that she knows, that she definitely planted them there, but your arousal was quick to out how much you wanted it on at least some level. Truth be told, Wanda didn't actually orchestrate what happened in your mind, just planted the seeds, and let your imagination run wild with it.

Her glare tells you there isn't really much of a choice here, it's expected of you to answer, and you're not really a fan of the mean version of your "friend" so through your sobs you manage to speak.

"Mommy was laying on the bed..."

Wanda hums against your skin, allowing you to speak your truth while she toys with your breasts, taking a nipple between her fingers, while taking the other into her mouth, enjoying the way you stutter as she tweaks and sucks.

"and Daddy was fucking me from behind while I ate you out..."

Valkyrie's quick to tune in at the title, jumping up to be able to lock eyes with you as you continue on, and your eyes go wide at the sight of her sizable dick that's stood at attention.

"Fuck..."

"Go on.." Wanda commands, lightly biting into your soft skin as a warning.

"Da-addy and you just kept using me, the rest is kinda fuzzy, I'm sorry..."

"Oh little dove, that's fine... I promise we can make your dreams a reality, then fill in the blanks as we go..." Valkyrie coos before Wanda can speak, her free hand going up to cup your cheek, and allowing you the millisecond of comfort before Wanda begins to speak.

"Listen honey, I don't like to be mean to you, but you have to promise to be our good girl... We'll take such good care of you, give you a life full of riches, all you have to do is promise."

Her words are sickeningly sweet, but—truth be told, in the moment Wanda's enjoying the fear that resides beneath your gaze. You've seen Wanda's powers up close, so the idea of fighting seems futile, especially seeing as how you've no longer got a life to return to, so you settle for the easier rode—giving in.

"I promise!"

Wanda smirks at your inner turmoil, then your subsequently logically drawn conclusions fill her with glee—you were perfect, easy to mold.

"Well, first, mommy's got to punish you."

"My queen, maybe this time we let her off the hook..."

"I don't know, she wasn't..."

Valkyrie pulls Wanda in for a kiss, cutting her off then whispering something into her ear, which shockingly seems to convince the witch otherwise.

"Seems like your daddy here wants to show you some mercy printsessa, but just be warned, in the future mommy won't be so nice."

At this point you were just embarrassed, your puffy cunt dripping onto the mattress, and no matter how much you willed your body to stop the arousal was just flowing out. Valkyrie's slender fingers teasingly trailed through your folds, collecting your arousal just to get a taste while Wanda was off to the side making quick work of her own clothing.

Valkyrie's strong arms wrapped around you for the second time today, effortlessly lifting you off the bed; dragging your wet cunt down her abdomen, and as she lowered you to the ground her erect cock nudged through your folds. Needy moans were caught by her lips suddenly, yet gently, pressing against your own.

The sound of the bed creaking announced that Wanda was ready, Valkyrie reluctantly pulled away from you, then with arousal inducing brute force she spun you around, lightly shoving you towards the bed.

"Face down, ass up." Wanda instructs, leaving little to no room for interpretation leading you to crawl up the bed and settle yourself between her parted thighs.

"Honey, don't leave mommy waiting, this was your dream after all..." She taunts, leaving you to consider teasing her back, but you quickly decide it's a bad idea and with a shocking bit of excitement you get acquainted with her body.

Wanda's breathing becomes uneven as you work your tongue through her folds, and with the wave of her hand she gives Valkyrie the necessary permission to ravish you. All of a sudden you're moaning against her core, sending the most perfect of vibrations through her as Valkyrie fills you to the brim.

"Fuck... Princess, you feel so good around me." Valkyrie says, accent deepening as arousal laces her tone, and her hips begin to move at an unforgiving pace.

The room smells of sex, as the three of you work each other up to your releases. Wanda's hand is tangled in your hair, holding you firmly against her, while her hips move erratically to fuck your face. It's almost like a game of tug of war is taking place, Valkyrie's hold on your hips is firm, bruising even as she thrusts into your from behind, using her hold to pull you back to meet her every thrust. One thing's definitely clear, both women are close to their release with you present between them.

Even though you're clearly struggling to retain cognition, you're able to bring yourself to slip two fingers into Wanda as her hold on your head falters. Wanda cries out as soon as your fingers begin rhythmically pumping into her, tongue teasingly tracing over her bundle, then in reciprocation her powers travel down to play with your clit.

The sudden pressure has your moves faltering for half a second, and the way your walls clench has Valkyrie nearing her end. Valkyrie's hips never stop their motions, clearly her stamina was top tier; your jaw however was growing tired, so in an attempt to throw the witch over you wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking fervently.

Within a minutes time, after a few perfectly crafted curls of your fingers, and the delicious pressure against her you're rewarded with her pornographic moans and abundant release. Her thighs had tightened around your head though, as she rolled her hips against you in hopes of keeping her high going, leaving you without air. The dizziness clouding your mind as your lungs pleaded for relief had spurred your body on; walls fluttering around her twitching cock.

Wanda's release of your head had you gasping for air, and the sudden re-emergence of oxygen in your lungs had been what finally sent you crashing over into your state of bliss. Valkyrie was close as well, but she'd desperately wanted to see you coming undone before she lets go.

In a quick succession she's pulling out of you, allowing your previous orgasm to drip out of you as she manhandles you onto your back. Thrusting back into you with a sense of urgency, and with strong arms holding you up by your thighs her thrusts somehow hit deeper. Staring down you watch as her length manages to push your abdomen out repeatedly. Curiosity takes you over, and you reach down to poke at the unusual bulge, then after a moment you're forcefully pushing down on it. Her wide tip pushes against your spongey wall just right, an aggressive moan flies out of you, as your body trembles from beneath her.

Val watches your face as it scrunches up from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, your walls simultaneously work to choke her cock, and at that she can no longer hold on. A choked moan falls from the woman above you as she quickly becomes overwhelmed by the sensations. The way her cock twitches inside you is the warning you get before the white, sticky hot fluids spew from her dick, painting the entirety of your walls.

"God, you're just so fucking hot." She groans, then her lips are meeting yours for a teeth clashing kiss that you do your best to keep up with.

A soft whine falls from your lips, and is transferred into her mouth as she continues to kiss you and slowly moves her hips, picking back up as if she hadn't just came seconds ago.

Wanda took some time to recuperate from her high, having been reveling in the fact that she finally had you where she wanted you. Being so far gone in her mind she'd failed to even take notice of the change in position. She watches in awe as her wife continues to destroy you with no end in sight, eyes tightly shut as her hips continue to thrust you into the bed, and having apparently turned you into a babbling mess roughly two orgasms ago.

Wanda eventually has to slap her in the face just to get her back down to Asgard, her hips slowly come to a stop before she's looking up to meet her lovers gaze.

"My King, you did so good, but it's time to let her rest now..." She coos, then leans forward to kiss her lips while she is very much still inside of you.

Valkyrie finally looks down at you, taking in your tear stricken face, admiring the way your bruised lips are parted, and loving the sounds of your adorable snoring.

"I didn't even realize she passed out..." She guiltily murmurs.

"Yeah, I noticed." The witch giggles, reaching out to push the hair out of your face, leaning down to place a tender kiss to your parted lips.

"She'll be okay... There's definitely no way you didn't get her pregnant though.."

"I don't want to pullout..." She whimpers, and Wanda smirks deviously at her.

"Then don't, let our little princess here get used to cock warming..." Wanda muses before kissing her once more in a silent goodnight.

Valkyrie didn't have to be told twice, gently she laid her body atop of yours, making sure you're still able to breathe as she's definitely bulky enough to crush you. Once she feels the rise and fall of your chest consistently, and without struggle, she settles her face in the crook of your neck and falls asleep.

Wanda lays beside the both of your sleeping bodies, fingers lightly tracing the sides of your abdomen, and smiling when she finally picks up on another energy in the room.

"Goodnight princess... Goodnight little pea..."

She falls asleep with a rather full heart, though this had been a dream she once shared with Natasha, she's glad she was able to pull it together with her newfound love.

———————————————

5,612 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 💋

[novoaa1writes]

day 0

image source

pairing(s): softdark!natasha romanoff x gnc!reader, natasha romanoff & tony stark (platonic)

summary:

“I trust they were well-behaved?”

“You know they weren’t,” Stark disputed, letting out a derisive snort. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t let me fix that.”

Natasha shrugged. “Chemically-induced submission is all very well and good,” she mused, sounding vaguely preoccupied. You could still feel her gaze upon you, boring through your skull. “But I’d prefer to earn theirs.”

“Your funeral.”

Or: Natasha wants a pet. Lucky for her, she knows a guy who can help with that.

contains: non-con dynamics, pet play, dehumanization

[cross-posted on ao3]

word count: ~3,300

rating: mature

warnings: non-con dynamics, forced pet play, dehumanization, non-con bathing, referenced non-con body modification, referenced non-con medical experimentation/surgery, referenced physical and psychological abuse, discussions of administering post-op painkillers (morphine, oxycodone, anti-inflammatories, etc.)

notes: reader’s gender is not specified here, and as with every reader-insert i write, the reader is intended to be ethnically ambiguous! also, no use of y/n... i don't personally mind it much, but i understand it's typically preferred without

translation for russian terms in the end notes!

(previously named “build-a-pet”)

— —

Natasha had been on mission when she received the call. 

Burner #1—professional access. A select handful of people had the means to call it. Phil, Clint, Nick, Maria. Pepper, too. 

Burner #2—a separate, off-books agenda. Personal in nature. Accessible to none save for one individual. 

It was the second of the two that rang to signal an incoming call.  

Eyeing her target—Pavel Mikhailovich Novik, Bratyerstva head and prolific serial killer—intently through the tac scope, she brought the phone up to her ear and answered the call:

“Romanoff.”

“Gah! Always business with you, huh?” Tony Stark’s conversational—if not somewhat indignant—tone filtered through the speaker. “That’s no way to greet a friend.”

Were Natasha not otherwise occupied at the current moment, she might’ve scoffed. As it was: “A little busy, Shellhead,” she muttered, shifting her aim in time with Novik’s uneven stride as he made his way across a municipal street. “Why don’t we skip to the part where you tell me what you’ve got?”

“I’m doing just swell, thanks for asking.”

He was a short, stout man. Novik, that was. Flat-footed gait, the kind that had long since ruined the arches of his well-worn shoes. Broad shoulders; barrel-chested torso. Thick dark hair cut short on his scalp and, in the case of his square-shaped jaw, removed completely—but permitted to grow to damn near cat-whisker length everywhere else. 

A wheat-link chain hung loose around his short neck; the chunky watch on his hairy wrist gleamed when it caught the light. Both solid gold.

He was dressed nicely enough in a red button-down that looked soft as satin, and charcoal black trousers with a matching blazer to boot.  

Natasha had to bite back a disapproving hum as he strode into the establishment—a pub, no less—and hoisted himself up onto a barstool with little ceremony. 

He was armed, of course, but only barely; a pistol in one inner coat pocket, a switchblade in the other. He also wasn’t entirely clueless, as evidenced by his company: a pair of stern-looking men who stood flanking him on either side, the material of their cheap polyester suits straining to contain their hulking figures, jackets bulging with poorly-concealed semi-automatic weapons. They watched the bartender like hawks as he set a clear bottle—Dębowa—and an empty glass in front of Novik before promptly scurrying away.

They turned their matching glowers away from their boss as he began to drink, surveying the small, dimly-lit pub with heavy-browed suspicion.

It was a clear message. A bit garish for Natasha’s tastes; but clear nonetheless. 

As it was, she barely had to shift herself any further to catch him in her crosshairs through a series of high, rectangular windows lining the interior of the grimy pub. 

All bark, no bite. 

A far less jaded woman might have snorted. 

A far less jaded woman Natasha was not. 

“… Long story short, we’ve made some serious progress. I want to check in, though, if you could swing by for a quick visit. We’ve only got a short window before some of these alterations are irreversible. Plus, I figured you’d want to see them.”

Natasha bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, her pulse thrumming wild and fast beneath her skin. “You figured right,” she managed to answer, her mouth dry. It was all she could do to keep Novik unharmed in her crosshairs, her finger from squeezing the trigger. 

“So, when can we expect you?”

Natasha flit her gaze to the clock face fastened atop a tall, spindly spire on the nearest street corner, then back to Novik. “Give me six hours.”

— —

“Boss, three reports intercepted from secure, heavily-encrypted channels. All high-profile killings, all on European soil.”

Tony Stark, though intrigued, did not look up from the task at hand: himself perched adroitly along the rim of the tub, lathering your naked body in sweet-smelling soaps; you, slumped uncouthly in the cradle of the bath, glaring up at him with defiant eyes and murder in the tick of your jaw. 

“Time window?” he questioned after a pause, lowering one sudsy hand to knead at your lower belly and grinning wolfishly when you couldn’t smother a quiet whine. 

“Six days.”

“Locales?”

“Qormi, Malta; Kutaisi, Georgia; and Gomel, Belarus.”

Stark hummed in lieu of answer, a vaguely preoccupied look in his narrowed gaze. His large, calloused fingers didn’t cease their humiliating ministrations over your quivering belly, making you pant in an effort to hold back a low, guttural trill. 

“In that order?”

“Yes, boss.”

You hated him. You fucking hated him. 

“Walks like Natasha, quacks like Natasha…” he trailed off, giving your belly one last squeeze before withdrawing slightly to cup your other hip with his palm. “Probably Natasha.”

You’d only just begun regaining your strength following the latest procedure, though not nearly enough to do anything other than glare.

Stark slanted his gaze back over to you. If he was at all cowed by the force of your glower, he did well not to show it. “You’re adorable when you’re plotting my demise, y’know that?”

It took everything within you not to roll your eyes.

— —

“So, how was White Russia? Eat any draniki?” Stark questioned as he settled bodily into an armchair, gesturing for Natasha to seat herself on the settee across from him. 

She did, her features calm and impassive. Her shrewd gaze flit to you once, but was quick to refocus. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“C’mon, give me something,” Stark carped, huffing petulantly. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, only the back of his head and a bit of bearded cheek, but you imagined he was probably pouting like a third grader. “For old times’ sake?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Guilty as charged,” Stark quipped. “Though, I suppose I can’t say the same for Novik. He didn’t even get a trial.” 

Natasha’s placid expression did not falter. “Who?”

“You know what, I’m just gonna give you this one—”

“Generous.”

“—but only because we’ve achieved a mind-blowing amount of progress within the past couple weeks. Like, seriously: mind-blowing.”

You felt yourself shudder at the reminder. Progress, indeed.

“Oh?” Natasha queried lightly, brows raised. Once more, her gaze dipped to you… and stayed there. 

You ducked your head and averted your eyes, cheeks aflame. You’d grown accustomed to being naked around Stark—mainly because you didn’t have a choice. But Natasha… 

For the first time in years, you found yourself missing your long hair, the way you could cower behind it at a moment’s notice. Now, you were exposed. Vulnerable. 

“I trust they were well-behaved?”

“You know they weren’t,” Stark disputed, letting out a derisive snort. “Honestly, I don’t know why you don’t let me fix that.”

Natasha shrugged. “Chemically-induced submission is all very well and good,” she mused, sounding vaguely preoccupied. You could still feel her gaze upon you, boring through your skull. “But I’d prefer to earn theirs.”

“Your funeral.”

Natasha’s lips twitched, though she remained silent. Then, after a beat or two— “Your progress?” she prompted.

“Right, so, here’s the run-down…”

— —

You’d tuned out for the most part as Stark began his long-winded, vainglorious speech to Natasha about his—your—successes since last they’d spoken. Much as you understood it was likely prudent to listen in, acquire a little more knowledge on what exactly he’d done to you, you’d also been there long enough to know that it probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyhow. 

Natasha would do with you as she pleased. Stark, too, provided Natasha was the one asking. 

In the beginning, that intrigued you. Made you want to learn more about them and their dynamic; to understand why it was what it was. You didn’t get why Stark would run, jump, and heel for the likes of her—intimidation factor notwithstanding. 

By this point, that intrigue had since dwindled, if not dissipated entirely. It was what it was; consequently, they were, too. 

You were still angry and strong-willed and a far cry from broken, but you weren’t stupid, either. Just because they treated you like a chained-up dog didn’t mean you had to gnaw off your own limbs in a desperate bid to escape like one. 

And, besides… it wasn’t often you got moments like these. Moments where you weren’t being poked and prodded and shot up with God knows what. You were collared, sure, your body riddled with all kinds of aches and pains, but none of it held a candle to the agony you’d known in days past. 

Lost in your head though you were, months’ worth of training ensured you didn’t miss the moment Natasha called you over. 

“Ко мне,” she spoke, pitching her voice just above appropriate speaking volume.

It was like someone lit a fire under your ass. The second you heard it, you shot up on all fours. Pain came fast on its heels, but you grit your teeth and bore it, swallowing down a cry as soreness shot through your hands—you flat-out refused to call them ‘paws’—like wildfire. Every heightened reflex stood on high alert. Your back, too, felt like it was on fire, spinal column alight with tenderness. 

Still, it wasn’t nearly so bad as it’d been a week back, when you awoke in observation all bandaged up and so acutely in pain, you feared it might kill you. You also knew better than to dawdle. Clenching your jaw tight, you shuffled forth on sore palms and bruised knees. Your muscles burned. 

You were grateful to feel the tip of your nose graze Natasha’s jean-clad knee, signaling a justifiable stopping point. 

“Молодец,” she praised, her voice pitched an octave (or two) higher, and you felt like singing. 

You even arched your poor, aching back in a shameless effort to attract… well, something, you supposed. Head pats, perhaps. An open-handed stroke down your spine, even.  

Damn that animal, desire-seeking hindbrain.

Fortunately, Natasha seemed to understand. Her palm met the nape of your neck, slender fingers curling their way into the mess of hair at the back of your scalp—God, but that felt divine. A mounting hum in the back of your throat was all the warning you got before—

Fuck. Immediately, you clamped your mouth shut, and the sound—along with the pleasurable vibrations—stopped altogether. 

Not again. 

“Ah-ah-ah, puppy,” Natasha tutted, her free hand descending to squeeze your nose tight—effectively cutting off your air supply. And still, the other remained; combing through freshly-washed hair at the base of your skull, occasionally scritching your scalp with the tips of her blunt nails until the insides of your throat quivered and your jaw hurt from clenching it so hard. It was all you could do to keep from opening right back up and giving her a nice long purr. (Which, you’d deduced, was exactly what she wanted.) “None of that.”

She was using English now, you noticed. 

And, just like that, the realization hit that she hadn’t been before. 

Now, you could… you could hear her words and understand them, and from that understanding know their meaning. Before, it was like… like hearing the words and knowing what they were supposed to mean, then acting accordingly. You couldn’t take apart the syllables, the letters in your head, not like you could with English. 

P-u-p-p-y. That spelled ‘puppy.’ When you tried to conjure the word she’d used to summon you over, there was just… nothing. A blank space. A short one, telling you you knew the approximate length of the word you were looking for, but… empty. 

Your gaze darted to Stark, who just slouched back in his cushy armchair looking immeasurably pleased with himself. At any other time, the mere sight would’ve been enough to spark some measure of annoyance within you. 

Now… Now, all you could feel was fear. 

He didn’t do that, did he? He… he couldn’t’ve. 

All the rest of it: the obedience, the meekness—that? That was conditioning, plain and simple. You weren’t exactly a PhD, but it didn’t take a genius to note down from the very start that some behaviors got you alone time in a small, dark room without food or water or sunlight for days on end, and others got you… well, not that. By a certain point, you would beg him to yell at you, choke you out, take you over his knee and spank your ass raw when you misbehaved; something, anything, so long as it wasn’t that. 2 times out of 10, he’d take you up on that. As for the other 8… well. 

But this—implanting knowledge in your subconscious, tuning it to mimic compulsory behavioral urges, all while you remained none the wiser? That was a hell of a lot more complicated than reworking your spine, or tweaking sensory receptors, or even altering your vocal tract to make that obnoxious purr. 

It was like he’d rewired your brain. 

You didn’t even notice that you’d since relented: gasped out what little breath remained and began wheezing, all doubled-over, sucking in new breaths of air like a half-drowned cat. Though, you sure as hell noticed how that rattling, restless, vibrating sensation arose in your throat with every shuddering inhale; how, on every exhale came exactly what you’d feared—that pathetic, trilling purr. The one that warmed your body from head to toe while simultaneously making you wish you had never been fucking born. 

God, but Natasha’s hands were like magic…

Your head still spun. Was it from the oxygen deprivation, or the realization that Stark had been inside your head? Probably both. 

Terrified, dazed, and overwhelmingly confused, it took you some time to re-center; tuning back into Stark and Natasha’s conversation, if only to posture yourself accordingly. You could figure out the rest later, you reasoned.

“… The spinal alterations don’t inhibit their ability to stand upright, by any means, which is the exciting thing,” Stark was saying, damn near perched at the edge of his seat—almost vibrating with renewed vigor. Weirdo. “They just enhance their natural capacity to remain down on all fours and go about their day for extended periods of time: a day, a week… hell, indefinitely! Which, for humans, would be pretty much unthinkable. I mean, can you imagine?”

Without allowing a moment’s pause for Natasha to respond (which you’d come to understand was quite typical), Stark wasted no time in steamrolling on. “‘Course, the process of transplanting new bones was rather tricky, and we had to do a couple of them more than once. Dr. Cho estimates a week—at most—before they’ve healed enough to allow for more… strenuous physical activity.”

Natasha snorted. Her hand had long stilled its pleasant ministrations in favor of resting inert at the base of your skull, slender fingers curled loosely around your nape. You felt how they twitched and tightened their grip ever-so-slightly when Stark spoke of what he’d done to your spine. “Are they in pain?” 

Funny. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve thought she cared. 

Stark raised a brow. “Ballpark?”

Natasha must’ve nodded, or dipped her chin in confirmation, because a beat later, Stark spoke again.

“Imagine you got ripped open, rearranged, then stitched back up,” he summed up. “Twice.”

Dimly, it registered within you to be struck by his forthrightness, though you did not dare mistake it for empathy. 

Natasha was quiet for a beat. “Sounds about right,” she said eventually. 

“It doesn’t have to be this bad,” Stark offered, though there was a curious shift in his intonation, this time; a knowing and almost resigned look in his eye that made you wonder if he and Natasha had had this conversation before.

The way Natasha’s hand twitched, blunt nails digging into the skin of your nape, was answer enough. 

“Were I their doctor, I’d be prescribing some serious pain meds,” Stark continued on dryly, making a show of tilting his head and gazing off into the distance as though he was deep in thought. “Morphine, oxycodone—“

“No.”

“—maybe a local anesthetic or two,” he mused, beginning to count them out on his fingers. “Anti-inflammatories. Anticonvulsants. Something for the anxiety, even—”

“I wanted a pet, not a vegetable.”

Stark’s lips twitched—though with exasperation or humor, you could not tell. “Do you realize how quickly even the most powerful anesthetics will metabolize through their system? They’re not human anymore, Red. At least, not entirely.”

Now, that piqued your interest. 

“Neither am I.”

“It’s different for them. You know that. You got Erskine’s serum. Some unrefined bootleg variant, granted, but that man was nothing if not brilliant. Everything he touched, he turned to gold.” Stark spoke of him—this ‘Erskine’—as though he put the very stars in the sky. You wondered if he was truly brilliant, or just insane. You wondered if for Stark, there was any difference. “As for them… well.” He gestured vaguely towards you. “They got some anthropomorphic whack job’s bone marrow.”

You blinked. You got what now?

“He has a name, you know,” Natasha commented archly, the earlier indignation having dissipated from her tone. 

“Point being—I’ve met the guy. He’s seriously unhinged.” He paused there, as if expecting Natasha to argue. When she didn’t, he steamrolled on: “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. scavenge some digitized medical reports and psych evals from his time at the facility, along with anything else they could piece together after he escaped. Violently, I might add.”

“I won’t say he’s devoid of empathy, or a moral compass, because we both know that that’s not true,” Stark explained, then muttered under his breath: “Even if his senses of both concepts are seriously skewed.”

“Tony,” Natasha interjected, a note of warning in her voice. 

“Just listen, alright? I’m getting there.” Stark huffed out a sigh, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “My point is that he wasn’t like that, at the start. He was no saint, to be sure, but he wasn’t like that. It wasn’t until they started a particularly ill-inspired series of ‘tests’—though I’d argue a better term would be ‘torture sessions’—to assess his healing capabilities that he really started losing his marbles.”

You head was beginning to spin. Your jaw ached from clenching it so hard. Who were they talking about? 

“See, because his capabilities—extraordinary as they were—weren’t superhuman. They didn’t transcend healing itself, let alone make it any less painful to endure. In fact, I think they actually concluded that it was made more painful by his body’s ability to undertake those processes at such an expeditious rate.” Stark breathed out another heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he could feel a headache brewing. 

He wasn’t the only one. 

“He nearly went insane, Natasha. Joking aside, it almost beggars belief that he’s as high-functioning as he is,” Stark asserted, no longer pulling his punches. “I know you don’t want that for them.”

It was silent for a beat… Then two. 

“Fine.”

Stark promptly quieted, renewed interest sparking itself alight in his gaze. “What was that now?”

“I said, ‘Fine.’”

A slow grin spread across his clean-shaven features. 

“No opioids,” Natasha was quick to amend. “Nothing addictive. Just… anything that’ll help more than it’ll hurt.”

Silence for a beat. Then two. 

Stark squinted at her. “You sure you and that bleeding heart of yours are up for this?”

Natasha’s grip around your nape tightened even further. “Shellhead,” she gritted out, her tone hard as weathered steel. Even the sound of it was enough to send chills down your spine. 

Stark, in contrast, was not at all similarly affected. He simply tilted his head to one side and made a show of continuing to appraise her with shrewd, assessing eyes. Then, finally: “You should try yoga.”

— —

end notes: L O fucking L

also the anthropomorphic whack job they’re talking about is logan (wolverine) from x-men, in case you’re wondering 

edit: i’ve since written a continuation of this, linked below!

translation of russian terms (with stresses bolded):

ко мне | ko mnye | “come”

молодец | molodyets | excellent, good

sources:

“organized crime in eastern europe” | to be so clear, i just made up “bratyerstva” from the term “братство” (bratstvo) which means “brotherhood” or “fraternity” in bulgarian, macedonian, russian, and serbo-croatian dialects. it is also the name of a ukrainian political party (ukrainian: братство, romanized: bratstvo), but it is not an actual belarusian word. it also bears some resemblance to братва, a slang term used to refer to criminal gangs in russia and other ex-ussr states. honestly, the closest you’d probably get to an actual word with this would be the polish “braterstwo” (brahterstvo) which also means “brotherhood” or “fraternity.” (however, in some informal contexts, the term “братерство” has been used in ukrainian dialects to convey synonymous meanings.) anyway, this is a brief snippet (~10 pages) from an academic article about organized crime in eastern europe, if the precedent behind all that intrigues you. i thought it was pretty informative!

white russia | another name for belarus, though there’s some controversy/nuance to that (and big surprise, it’s got everything to do with russia). this links to an article from euronews talking about... all of that

draniki | an immensely popular dish in belarus. they’re basically potato pancakes. several other european countries have close equivalents. 

— —

next part: come, sit, stay

link to masterlist

[romanoffsbish]

Hollowed Oak 🕷

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

SoftDark!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Warnings—

Childhood trauma—Middle child syndrome, Neglectful/Gaslighting mom, Absent father

Stockholm Syndrome—“Kidnapping”, R’s like really desperate for love.

SMUT!! 18+ !! Minors DNI!

Took inspiration from my own camping trip, I hope you enjoy this four parter. ❤️

Peace in the Silence

Camping has always brought you an overwhelming sense of peace, allowing you to escape your dreary existence if only just for a moment—unbeknownst to you though, the very thing that brought you peace, might also be what takes it away.

Welcome Home Angel

Your perfect week long getaway started off swimmingly, but as the sun began to set, so did your dreams of tranquillity because every little thing that could go wrong did.

Breeding Grounds 🥵

After a week of mercilessly teasing you the women that had captured your heart finally take it to the next level as Wanda’s spell proves fruitful. *SMUT*

Missing “Loved” One

After years of captivity in the tiny cabin, Wanda and Natasha decide to set off to find a bigger place for your ever growing family. While they’re away, you’re unhappily faced with the daunting task of briefly re-emerging into civilization.