~Your mind is not competition to mine~
Pairing:Natasha Romanoff x reader
Summary: Natasha was amazed at how wonderful your mind was, but she didn't like the arrogance you had, could she put that aside to work with you?
AN:Many things of the personality of the reader, are based on the books and adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Happy reading!
Natasha looked with piercing eyes as her boss talked to a striking woman, she was not a woman who was beautiful to the naked eye, but she had very defined features and a mysterious personality that made Natasha hard to look away. She didn’t understand why her boss had called this woman, whom he was sure that she could help at a time like this. Who was she that could do what the Avengers couldn’t, that could notice what Natasha didn’t, who was she that her boss trusted her so much to involve her in something classify like this?
Fury a couple of days ago had informed the Avengers of the disappearance of several agents, all from different areas, without leaving any trace and without apparent connection. Although that case would have been left to other agents to investigate, the number of disappearances made that event something urgent that required the capacity of his best fighters, the Avengers. Another thing that added to his concern were a couple of threatening letters that had reached the hands of that man. All the letters had arrived in a blank envelope with no address or relevant footprints, in which them explicitly asked for certain classified files or they would proceed to kill the missing agents one by one. At first the mission was in charge of Natasha since she was the best agent with the best perceptual skills, but when the redhead could not discover anything, Fury called the woman who was currently talking to him.
The redhead could see that the woman was wearing a long gray coat that completely covered her arms and its extension covered up ¾ of her legs. She also observed that she wore black leather gloves and high boots that matched them. His hair was tied in a ponytail armed very carefully, since almost no strand of hair escaped from it, except those that the woman had purposely separated from the rest of her hair to let them fall on the side of her face framing her face. The woman lacked expression, didn’t smile or frown as she listened to Fury speak, she did no do other interaction than nod and ask short questions. The more she looked at her, the more curious she became about the woman in front of her.
“Romanoff” the redhead rose from her seat when she heard her name come out of her boss’s mouth “she is (Y/N/LN), (Y/N) she is Natasha Romanoff, the agent who will be accompanying you for the duration of the case” Natasha saw how you nodded in the form of a greeting, but the redhead stretched out her hand to greet you and you grabbed her firmly earning a look of approval from her.
“A pleasure” Natasha smiled sideways watching you and examining you, although it was difficult for her to draw any conclusions from you and that intrigued her more, usually she was very good at reading people. Natasha knew very little about you, she had only heard Fury say that you were very good at deciphering complex cases and learning things from people by looking at things that everyone almost always overlooked. The redhead was mad but intrigued that you were there, she was annoyed by not knowing almost anything about you even though she investigated, she was irritated by not being able to decipher you as she could do with anybody else, but without a doubt what most dismayed her, was that they called you to help in a case that she couldn’t solve.
“I’m going to bring the letters and evidence for you to take a look at” Fury broke the silence and Natasha was embarrassed to realice all the time that she had stared at you. Seeing how the man leaves the room you sat on one of the chairs without making any comment, the redhead sighed when she saw that you sat in such a correct and normal way, she couldn’t get any information by seeing you
“What are you?” Natasha asked sitting in front of you
“A person” you answered simply
“What a general response” the redhead said with bitterness thinking that you could be hiding something
“A general answer to a general question” your answer took it a little out of place because you were right.
“They say you’re the best in your field” she stared at you as if she were doing one of her interrogations.
“They say the same thing about you” you replied and Natasha blew a strand of hair that was on her face in frustration, you were annoying, as annoying as she could be sometimes. She took her cell phone out of his pocket and gave it to you
“I’ve heard it people said that it is difficult for a person to use any object every day without imprinting his personality on it, to the point that an advanced observer would be able to read it… Do your magic” she whispered with a mocking smile, she hoped that her request lower your security a little “What can you know about me looking at the cell phone? ” you took it in your hands seeing in detail the cover, the screen and the whole cell phone, first with the naked eye and then with a magnifying glass, finally you tried to unlock it and the screen turned on showing you that it had a code and a very neutral wallpaper, you turned off the cell phone screen and returned it, Natasha saw the whole interaction and her smile never left her face.
“Hardly any data, the cell phone is constantly cleaned and that deprives me of the most suggestive facts” you confessed and Natasha’s smile grew
“You’re right, I cleaned it up a little before you arrived…” Natasha was very happy since you had not managed to get information from her cell phone, she had thought you were better, but she laughed when she saw that you were using a pathetic excuse to explain not finding data. Also she asked herself what would you have taken out of a dirty cell phone
“But the examination of the cell phone, although unsatisfactory, has not been entirely sterile” you continued to look at the redhead and her smile of arrogance disappeared “The device has a recent manufacturing date, so it tells me that you have changed it no more than a couple of months ago, you like to keep your cell phones updated because you need good technology for your work” you said seriously
“So far so good” the redhead confessed “something else?”
“Yes, you have a controlling personality, you are detail-oriented, something from your past torments you and you like to drink at night. Probably what torments you is the death of a child on some mission, collateral damage that you could have somehow avoided. You lack family or close relationships outside of work, you are paranoid and always want to know everything about everyone” you whispered with a serious expression watching how she got upset and stood up from her chair looking bad at you badly
“Please, you are nothing more than a façade, I would not have believed you capable of lowering yourself so much to pretend that you are good at something so you could get a job. Before coming you did research on us and you pretend to have deduced in a fantastic way that knowledge that you already had. You don’t expect me to believe that you’ve read that from a cell phone in good condition like mine,” she looked at you with her arms crossed
“I beg you to accept my apologies” you answered kindly “I considered your request as an abstract matter, I am sorry if my way of speaking was very personal or painful for you. But nevertheless I assure you that I didn’t know anything about you until I saw you and shook your hand. I don’t like to investigate people before I meet them at least that the job requires it, I prefer to meet a person and then take my own conclusions” you said sincerely and Natasha looked at you confused.
“So how did you get to those facts? Very few people know the things you’ve said” she sat down again looking at you
“Well, it was a matter of good luck, because I could only talk about what constituted a greater percentage of probabilities, in no way did I expect to be so certain” you looked at the woman in front of you, the redhead stared at you analyzing your face for any sign that you were lying, but she found nothing
“Weren’t they simple assumptions?” she asked curiously and you denied
“I never make assumptions. That is a disgusting habit, which destroys the faculty of reasoning. What seems curious and surprising to you is only because you cannot follow the course of my thoughts, nor do you observe the small facts from which very important deductions can be made. For example, I started by stating that you have a controlling personality, this is because despite your hard and risky work, your cell phone is intact, neither the protective glass of the screen nor its cover have a scratch. When people do that it is usually because before renewing their cell phone again, they sell the previous one and that is why they keep it in the best possible condition. But you would not risk that your cell phone fell into the wrong hands even if before selling it you had deleted everything, the only reason why you keep in such a good conditions is because you like to maintain order and control in your life even in the smallest things, not only you have your cell phone in perfect condition but you even have the loading and audio port detailed clean. For the very same reason I know you’re a detailed person. I know that you drink at night because the whole cellphone is perfect except at the bottom where the loading port is located, it has small scratches around the hole, almost imperceptible, because the charger scratches many times before you can insert it correctly, only a drunk person makes that type of marks, you would never find a cell phone of a sober person with that amount of scratches. You drink alcohol at night because it is one of the moments you have for yourself and also is the time when you charge a cell phone more often. With the work and skills you have, one of the most common reasons to drink until you get drunk is because you feel guilty about something, it’s always something you can’t change or reverse, so it had to be someone’s death, someone’s adult couldn’t be because many times adults die of collateral damage and you learn to handle it, but when a child dies, not matter how many times happens it always torments us, especially if it is a death that could have been avoided in some way. I assumed that you had no family outside of work because you do not have emergency contact numbers on the screen start, so if something happens to you at a mission or something, the people who needs to know, already know it because they are with you or they are the ones with whom you spend more time, that is, at work. I said the paranoid thing because your password requires numbers and letters, leaving an infinity of possibilities before someone’s can guess it. And I know you want to know everything about everyone because you couldn’t deduce much from me and you gave me this absurd test to see how good I was and if I told you something about my personality” Natasha looked at you sincerely amazed
“Everything is correct…” she whispered and nodded impress as Fury walked in the door with the papers.
“Here are the letters and the evidence they asked for” he left it on the table watching you two and you smiled watching him
“Thank you… I hope what you saw were entertaining” you told the man and he looked at you confused.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he confessed playing dumb
“It took you a long time to go get your files even though it is an open investigation and you have all the things at hand. Let’s suppose that it took you so long to get here because in the way here someone asked something from you, but since you are the one in charge nobody asks your help for anything, you ask them. Which leads me to wonder why you didn’t ask for the files to be brought to you, instead you went for them leaving us alone. The only reason that remains is because you wanted to see the interaction of your best spy with someone good for deduction, we would both try to get information from each other and that would be fun to see, that’s why it took you so much to come here, because you stayed watching through the cameras to see what we did” you said with simplicity and Natasha laughed
“It’s good” the redhead whispered still amazed watching as you had discovered their boss’s simple plan.
After analyzing the letters and the files that they demanded, you took out several deductions but none brought you closer to whom could do it, you also saw the files of each person who had disappeared and the truth was that at first glance nothing seemed to unite them, and that you liked that, you liked the challenges. You also noticed that in all the letters they had demanded the files, but in none did they put an address where to take what they were asking for.
Natasha spent the whole night by your side investigating the cameras of the city looking for some clue of who left the letters, but each time it was someone different, that when they questioned them, they were ordinary citizens who had been paid to do that, and the person who had given them the task had only left them a letter under their door. The people were from the poorest part of the city so there were no cameras to capture the person who delivered the letters to them. When you saw and investigated the cards of the people, you realized that they were a little wrinkled all in the same pattern, you took the lighter from your pocket and passed the fire to the back of the paper revealing some numbers, in each card it was the same pattern of digits.
“What are you doing? You can’t burn that, it’s evidence” Natasha’s voice distracted you from your tasks
“I have an address to go, join me, it’s getting late” you got up grabbing your coat and put it on, Natasha followed looking at you confused
“Wait, we have to notify Fury and take other agents with us” she said while still following you “Where did you find the address? Which is it?”
“There is no time to warn them, is already late” you kept walking fast “also the less persons we are, the easier we will go unnoticed … They had written, in addition to ink, some coordinates and time with lemon in the letters, that’s why they keep sending them, because you never noticed, so the due date pass and they sent you another letter with a new place and a new time to meet. At first glance you would see nothing but wrinkled parts on the paper, but when you put them close to the fire, the juice of the lemon burns and shows what was written” you stopped in front of Natasha’s car waiting until the redhead opened the door for you and started driving in the direction you told her. “If they try to take us somewhere else, don’t defend yourself, just let them do it, we need to get to who is behind, so wait a bit until I tell you to” Natasha nodded watching you
“How did you know which my car was? Everyone has the same here” she whispered without looking at you
“I saw you go out in it when you went to buy your food a couple of hours ago” you nodded looking at the streets and Natasha laughed
“I thought you had made another of your observations” you denied and she smiled, even if you were a little annoying, your way of being and thinking seemed very interesting, more interesting than anyone else she have ever met
When you reached the address that was in the papers, you found yourselves in front of a very large building, but as soon as got out of the car, a man and a woman received you and pushed you towards another car making you go up. By Natasha’s face, it was easy to see that she was holding so she didn’t hit them, she did not like to be handled like this. For your part you only listened to them and did what they told you to. They began to go around a lot to make you dizzy and make you get lost. But you and Natasha recognized effortlessly the name of every street they went down.
The men stopped the car and made you get inside of a house that was identical to those around them, none had a number or anything that differentiated it, but both, you and Natasha saw that it was the 5th house of the 4th block. Upon entering the property, you noticed that it was horribly decorated, with furniture too old and broken to be used. The man indicated where to go and the woman was behind you attentive to every movement. After going through a door you found a man of almost two meters, muscular and with a face full of scars and beard that made him look very harsh and evil.
Natasha stood next to you ready in case something happened. The man asked for the files in exchange for freeing the hostages but before you could give them to him, the redhead took out of her pockets some very small devices and electrocuted them quickly causing them to fall to the ground unconscious, proudly smiled at you and you rolled your eyes walking out of the house. After a few minutes Natasha already had them tied up and ready to take them to the base to interrogate. After hours and hours talking to them without getting information about where the kidnapped people were, the redhead came with you.
“They don’t say anything…” she whispered looking at you
“Because you have the wrong people” you said without looking at her and she raised an eyebrow
“Why do you say that?” she asked” they sent the letters, they were in the address”
“Are you going to listen to me or are you going to do what you want like in that house?” you asked and she looked at you seriously
“I couldn’t let you give him those files,” she said firmly “most of them are classified”
“I just told you to wait for my signal, if you had, we wouldn’t be questioning the wrong people” you replied “Those men didn’t even write the letters, npr would they have the guts to kidnap anyone.”
“Did you see what they were like? They are giants and they are scary, they did it” she said annoyed.
“I’ve seen the most beautiful and delicate women whom kill children and the scariest men giving all their money to the poor, I don’t always go with what I see at first sight. Besides the letters were written on a very expensive paper, the house where they were looked barely habitable, they did not have good electricity, even some parts were only lit with candles. But they do live there, it is noticeable because none of the furniture had dirt, even if the house is broken and old they insisted on keeping it clean. No bully would clean a house where they are going to intimidate someone. Going back to the letters, the paper was too expensive for them to buy, the same with the ink, it was imported and of great value, they have no money to buy that. The lyrics of the letters were delicate and with the sticks of the t and b very long, whoever wrote it insisted that it look good and has a very strong personality by differentiating each letter well, it was also inclined to the left which means that whoever wrote that, is thinking constantly about the past. Those men who are there were just a failed attempt to see that we were carrying the papers. They are not bad, nor did they even know what they were doing, they didn’t even search us for weapons before entering the house. They were only paid to do that. If you had done what I said, whoever was behind everything would have appeared at some point. They’re not going to talk because they don’t know anything else” Natasha rolled her eyes and sat next to you upset, not only was she angry that she failed, but because you were always right
About two days later, seeing the same files so many times, everything began to fall into place, you found where the agents were kidnapped and for what reasons they had them there. But as soon as you completed the case, you went home.
Natasha didn’t understand anything that was going on, she only saw that they recovered the agents but she never understood how or why you left the place so quickly once the matter was over,
Your arrogance bothered her, but she liked to have someone who wasn’t easy to read next to her, was interesting and fun, it challenged her to work harder and she liked that. Sure their friends were smart, some, but no one had a twisted mind as you.
A few days later, after searching for your address in the files, Romanoff went to see you. She was surprised to be greeted by an older lady who made her come in. Once inside, she went to the second floor where your house was, when she entered she was shocked to see you lying in an leather couch looking at the ceiling with a silly smile, your arm was full of puncture marks and a syringe was on the floor next to some vials. She quickly kicked them out of your reach and made you sit straight looking at you worriedly
“Hey… You…” you smiled and she sighed in relief, she thought maybe she was too late
“What do you think you do? What did you injected yourself?” she asked worriedly and removed from your face a pair of loose hairs that had stuck to your forehead.
“Cocaine, do you want some?” you whispered as a secret “Don’t worry, I’m used to it, I know how much to have not to die…” Natasha sighed again when she heard you and gave you some water to drink
“Why do you do it? Do you know what it can do to your head? Do you have an excellent ability and you put it at risk for this stupidity?” she sighed seeing the number of marks you had on your arm, your eyes were gone and your face a little pale, you didn’t look like the composed and firm woman she had seen a few weeks ago.
“Cocaine and morphine stimulate and clear the mind in a transcendental way. Its side effects are temporary to me” you said sincerely
“Do you hear yourself? Calculate the resulting cost. Perhaps your mind is stimulated and excited, as you say, but it is through a pathological and morose process, which causes changes in the tissues that could leave after a while a permanent weakness, in addition to the horrible reaction that occurs when the effects of what you injected go away. Why do you run the risk of losing those great faculties that you have for a simple passing pleasure?” she asked you worriedly looking into your eyes. You sighed and straightened up a bit
“My mind revolts in the face of stagnation. Give me problems, work the most twisted analyses and then I will be fine, I will not need artificial stimulants. But I hate the boring monotony of existence, I need mental exaltation at all times. My greatest happiness is the pleasure of finding where to exercise my special faculties” you confessed watching the redhead as she placed a bandage on the most recent punctures on your arm
“You need cases where to exercise your mind like the one Fury gave you?” she asked and you denied
“That was a very easy case, only Fury was hiding some facts” you confessed and she looked at you confused.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“The people who did that … They worked for Shield before it was discovered that Hydra was inside, when Shield fell, they were out of work because Fury fired everyone just in case that someone were still Hydra, but he didn’t pay to those people anything before he fired them. Besides the many others lost their lives without any recognition or compensation to their families. After years of planning, they carried out a plan. As they worked in Shield, they couldn’t risk to do this themselves because probably they would be recognized, so, every person they use were hired, like the bullies that we found in that house, they always paid in cash so we couldn’t track them. But I could trace the paper and the ink, just a few people but them so it was a short list. They asked for thousands of classify files just to mislead, but among them, there was evidence that they had worked there and were fired without pay or recognition, that’s when I saw how they were connected. The agents that were ‘kidnapped’, actually play part of their plan voluntary because they had relatives who worked together at the time that Shield fell and they wanted money too.”
“But Shield doesn’t exist anymore, why they would do that?”
“Shield doesn’t exists, but Fury is still head of everything, he has money and that’s what they wanted. One of those agents who were fired, was a layer, a layer who worked for a compañy that use those letters papers, she only needed proof that they fired everyone. They just wanted to get those files so they could sue Fury for compensation for those who were fired… When I told Fury what happened and where they were, he sent them to arrest for blackmail and kidnapping… It didn’t seem fair to me even if they did bad a few things, it wasn’t fair when their lost their job without compensation a few years ago and I told him, but he didn’t care at all and I got a little upset and left” you told Nat everything you knew and she sighed
“I am sorry… It’s not always fair our job” she whispered seeing how your eyes were more focused “Come, let’s go” she grabbed your arm making you get up
“Where are we going?” you whispered
“To walk so that you wake up and then we will go to my apartment, I will not leave you alone to do this again… We will look together for a way to keep your mind occupied,” she said sincerely concerned about you.
“Why are you doing this?” you whispered
“Because…” She thought for a moment, neither did she knew why she was doing that, is not like her to help every lost mind like yours “Because I know that you don’t have friends outside of your job… Just like me, so what about we change that, I’ll be your friend and we can challenge each orders nerves and minds, what do you say?”
“Who said I wanna be your friend? Your mind is not competition to mine” you answered
“God, even when you are high you’re still arrogant” she laughed to herself
“But we can challenge each other to see who has the most interesting missions and cases” you whispered
“I would like that” she smiled softly walking by your side. That was the beginning of something bigger than a friendship, That was the quiet beginning of a burning love that neither of you picked up the signs that it was coming.
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escape your demons.
summary. | You’ve travelled for weeks just to escape your demons, but she’s got her reasons for making you crazy.
warnings. | Non/dubcon, dark themes, manipulation, cheating, (mention) spying, perversion, stepcest, obsessive behaviour, (mention) bribery, drinking (a/n), breakup, mild angst, mild parent issues, Mommy kink, vaginal sex, rough sex, packing, spitting, overstimulation, teasing, nipple sucking/nipple play, degradation, dumbification, praise, dirty talk, mentions of female masturbation, stroking, and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.
word count. | 13.5k
pairings. | Dark!Silver Fox!Step-Mom!Natasha Romanoff x Naive!Reader.
author’s note. | you drink alcohol, but it’s like really weird (kind of like asgard mead). please heed the warnings. please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. xx.
“Hey, honey, I’m sorry this is so late. Please don’t get mad at me. I have an emergency business trip to go on, and I have to leave now. By the time you get up to the cottage, I won’t be there. I’m so sorry, honey. I’ll be back as soon as possible.
He takes a deep breath.
“But here’s the thing, you won’t be alone. Do you remember my girlfriend, Natasha? She’ll be there. You guys can have fun while I’m gone, okay? Go hiking, or maybe even fishing if you want. Just please don’t hate me for this. I love you. Stay safe.”
“If you’d like to save this voicemail, press ‘9’,” the automatic voice tells you after a few moments of static. You lightly push the numbered button, and you hang up. Your already dull mood has turned sour, and you want someone to blame it all on. Maybe yourself, but definitely not him. As he said, you can’t hate him.
You could never hate him because what he’s doing for you is a blessing.
Jean-clad legs drag themselves along the pathway, and your suitcase rolls roughly behind you. The path is cleared of anything, but the small bumps and rocks still pose as obstacles you’re willing to get through.
You’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and you crave a cold shower that lasts for more than an hour. Or maybe even a dip in the pond… Can you even swim so passionately anymore? It’s been way too long, in your opinion. Well, it’s just been almost two years… Is that a long time?
Two summers ago where your lover would chase you around with a wooden stick in their hand. A branch, usually, never those small twigs that can break with the shortest amounts of strength.
The leaves would crunch beneath your feet, and your giggles were uncontrollable. It was fun while it lasted, and the winter season that followed it up is one you constantly yearn for.
But you’re nostalgic for everything that you once had.
“Gosh, will anything ever be okay?” you frustratingly ask out loud, even though you’re the only one there. Your flannel jacket slowly slides off of your shoulder, and along with it goes the strap of your backpack. It falls to your elbow harshly, and you let out a defeated sigh.
The view of the cabin is in your sights. It’s been cleaned up, but not to the point where it doesn’t feel like home. There are still plants on the windowsill and a wind chime hanging in front of the door. The wind blows lightly, and the soft tune reverberates throughout the forest.
As you get closer and closer to your home for the next few months until springtime, you can feel your exhaustion truly beginning to weigh down on you. You could fall face-first onto a bed if it were possible, but you know it isn’t.
Your name is called by a sweet voice, one that makes you nervous and uneasy. A redhead with blonde tips pokes her head out the window, and she smiles at you. Your lips press together awkwardly, and you curtly nod your head at her.
She has a mug in her hand, and steam rises from it. Is it coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? You’ll take anything; you’re so desperate. Your throat is dry, and you’re parched. Natasha sets her mug down next to a small succulent, and she disappears.
With a groan, you continue to trudge your way home. She emerges through the door and rushes to you. “Hey! Do you remember me? We only met once!” she exclaims, enthusiastic as ever. Well, not as ever. When she’s around your father, she’s got just as much energy as a turtle. Maybe it’s him, or maybe it’s you.
“Uhm, yeah! I remember you, don’t worry. It wasn’t that long ago,” you softly tell her, and she takes your luggage from you. “Two years ago, I think? Kind of a while ago, in my opinion,” she retorts, and you nod your head. You don’t say anything else, and you simply follow her as she carries your belongings inside with ease.
Time clearly isn’t a concept for you.
Your cold yet slick hands grab at your jacket, and you adjust it to look more prim and proper. Your father has always been a stickler for keeping up appearances, even if it’s a family member or long-time friend. You could argue that he’s constantly lost in the facade, but you know it won’t end well.
“So, how are you?” she questions, and you slowly walk into the home you’ve missed so much. It smells of vanilla and fire, perhaps even cinnamon and smoke as well. “I’m okay! How are you?” you ask, and you close the door behind you.
“I’m doing great! I finally have some decent company, so that’s why I’m so happy,” she explains, and you give her your best smile. “Ah, well, you’ll probably be annoyed by me by the end of the week. I’ll be here until February,” you gently inform her, and she smiles brightly.
“I could never be annoyed by you…” she whispers loud enough for you to hear. Your head snaps her way, confused by her unusual tone. A few beats of silence follow her words, and the cracking of the fireplace just makes everything more awkward. She stares at you softly, and she doesn’t put down your luggage.
“I- I’m going to take a shower,” you tell her, “I’ll be back in a few.”
“I remade your room for you! Come, let me show you,” she says, and before you know it, she’s leading you up the stairs. It’s a short walk, and it’s nothing to make you winded. Natasha walks in front of you, and you’re forced to stare at her back, not wanting to lower your eyes and cause any discomfort.
Her hips sway side-to-side, a sort of seductiveness in her walk. You envy it, but you also admire it as well.
Both of your hands splay against the walls, and you wonder why there isn’t any railing for you to hold on to. Your father should know how clumsy you are by now. Carefully, you make sure that each foot successfully lands on the steps before you continue to mount upwards. You can’t embarrass yourself once again.
“Here it is,” she hums in a sing-song voice, skillfully pushing the door open.
You’re met with a brightness that shines through the window, and you’re in absolute awe. Straight off of your Pinterest boards, your room is absolutely gorgeous. The bed is covered in the prettiest blankets and bedsheets. The walls have some of your favourite art pieces, even if they’re dark and twisted.
“Uhm… Wow! This is- This is amazing. Thank you so much…!” you express in shock, still trying to take in each and every aspect of your room. It doesn’t sink in just yet, and that’s the beauty of your mind. You’ll wait until it’s three in the morning for it to really hit you. And until then, you’ll try your hardest to show gratitude rather than surprise.
“You love it, don’t you? I know you do. I’m glad! It was fun to put it all together,” Natasha beams, and she sets your things down next to your bed. “This means a lot to me, truly. Thank you so much,” you continue, and you fold your hands together. Your fingers lace between one another, and she walks towards you swiftly.
Before you can say anything else to her, she suddenly wraps her strong arms around you. She smells of your favourite perfume, one that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from when you went to the mall just a few days ago. It puzzles you, but you brush it off as nothing. She’s just being kind… right?
Her hands rest on your shoulders, and you can feel her fingers through your layers of clothing. You gently place your hands on her back, and you wait patiently until she pulls away. But she doesn’t. No, instead, she brings your body closer to hers until the pulsating of her heart touches your chest. She’s too close to you for your liking, and yet you choose to keep quiet.
Natasha’s fingers dig into your skin, but she doesn’t hurt you. The ring on her finger presses to your bone, and you try to figure out where it’s placed. You breathe deeply and try to focus on the sensation before realizing that she’s got her ring finger decorated. You let out a gasp, and your stomach twists into a sailor’s knot.
Abruptly, you pull away from her, and Natasha stumbles backwards in surprise. You look down to her left hand, only to see a wedding band on it. She follows your eye-line, and she gives you an innocent smile that is accompanied by a sly glint in her eyes. “Yeah… We kind of got married. He didn’t tell you?” she questions, with worry on her face.
Your features are twisted in shock and hurt, and you’re not sure what to say or think. You simply shake your head, and she pouts. It feels condescending, and so you don’t take her expression lightly as you usually would. “I’m sorry… But it’ll be okay! We’ll have so much fun, don’t worry,” she promises, but you’re too troubled to listen to her.
In a fit of rage and sadness, you turn around and make a beeline downstairs. Natasha doesn’t follow you, and you’re glad. A gust of wind shakes the trees that surround you, and you find yourself heading for the pond. “Oh, God. Of course, this happens!” you grumble, and you kick at the small rocks in your path.
It’s only been a few minutes since you’ve arrived, and everything has already gone to shit.
“Hey, are you okay?” an all too familiar voice asks, and you feel a gentle hand rest on your shoulder. You’re cold, but you’re not disrespectful. You don’t shrug Natasha off, nor do you push her away from you. You bite your tongue and try to keep quiet, but you just can’t. “Just peachy,” you quip through gritted teeth, and she doesn’t laugh. No. Instead, she sits next to you.
Natasha’s feet dangle in the same manner yours do. Both of your legs are only one meter away from the cold water, and you hope to God that you don’t fall in by accident. “I know that you’re mad, sad, and probably annoyed as well. But think of it this way; nothing has really changed! All that’s different is that I’m wearing a ring,” she appeals, and you continue to stare downwards.
You let her words sink in your mind, and you can feel her staring at you. “I’ll even take it off if you want, see?” she offers, and you quickly grab her wrist. “No, y- you don’t have to do that. I’m not going to be childish and let you do that. It’s just… The least Dad could’ve done was tell me, you know? He didn’t even have to call. He could’ve sent an email or a text message,” you quietly explain, and Natasha leans in close as she intently listens to you.
“And the fact that I had to figure it out from you—right here of all places, at this time in my life—just hurts even more,” you add, and you wring your hands together. Your body is covered in goosebumps as the weather gets colder. You chuckle bitterly, “I had to find it out myself, and that’s only because you hugged me.” Those slightly chapped lips of yours are folded into a line, and you sit in silence.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” she utters after a while, and you shake your head. “No, no. You don’t have to apologize,” you clarify, feeling guilty for burdening her with your problems. Quietness fills the gap between you two, and you focus on the sounds of birds cooing and trees shaking. The surface of the dark water moves just a bit, and your reflection warps like a ruined piece of art. The scenery is beautiful, but it’s hard to enjoy it.
“Can I ask you something?” Natasha politely requests, and you whip your head to face her. Your nose almost hits her face, and you move backwards in fear. She’s so close to you, but she doesn’t seem to mind it at all. Her thighs touch yours, and you can feel the heat that radiates off of her. “Uh, yeah, sure, go ahead,” you urge, and nervousness fills your lungs up like water.
“Why are you staying here for so long?” Natasha interrogates, and you’re taken aback slightly. “Oh, well, I just need some time for myself,” you explain, trying your hardest not to tip over the urn. “But why? There must be a reason,” she presses, and you know you can’t brush her off like you would your father. Your tongue darts out and swipes against your lips, wetting them so that they don’t crack.
“Well, the person I was in love with for most of my life broke up with me. It was amicable, but I’m too hurt by it to be around that scene. I dunno. I guess I feel embarrassed? I swore that I’d get married to them and have that perfect life, but the complete opposite has happened… My friends, they, uh, they’re a bit mean to me about it. I couldn’t handle that, so that’s why I’m here. I want to focus on myself and try to move on.”
Your words have been watered down. They’re less harsh, and they don’t carry honesty like they should. But you just can’t tell Natasha everything, not yet, at least.
Natasha smiles at you sadly, but you simply look away from her. You bring one of your legs over the other, and you cross them elegantly. “I’m sorry about that. But I’m proud of you for putting yourself first. I’m here now, and I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t go insane,” she jokes, and you force a smile as well as a laugh. She joins you, and you can tell everything about her is authentic.
“Ah, well, thank you for being so kind and for that. I appreciate it,” you express sweetly, and you drop your shoulders in relaxation. Your back is hunched over just a bit, but it’s what makes you feel comfortable. Despite the vulnerability, you try your hardest to make things less awkward than they already are. She isn’t so bad after all.
“So… You’re my Step Mother now…” you sigh out after a few seconds, and Natasha perks up quickly.
“Yes, but I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” she quickly informs, and you hum in delight. “I’m not going to take that title away from you or anything. Just don’t punish me or lecture me,” you joke, and you slightly toss your head back in a small fit of laughter.
Natasha giggles, but her humour goes away quicker than yours. Her face drops back to its seriousness, but you’re too caught up to notice. Slowly, you go back to your regular position, but you keep your pretty smile on your even prettier face.
“Well, we’ll see.”
You like nature, and you enjoy all it brings and gives you. What you don’t enjoy is that sticky sweat it constantly leaves you in. Your nose is wet, and so is your back, yet your skin remains as cold as ever. “Hey, uh, Natasha? Nat? Can I call you that? Anyways, do you know where the towels are?” you call out to her as you slowly peel your flannel jacket off your shoulders.
Patiently, you wait for her to answer you. You pull your sweater over your head, and you’re left in another one. It’s slightly sheer, and it’s black, and it’s your favourite article of clothing that you own. “You can call me Nat. I’m fine with that!” she yells back, and you nod your head even if she can’t see you. Her hurried steps are loud, and before you know it, she’s bursting into your room with two towels in hand.
“Here you go!” Natasha exclaims, yet her tone of voice is a bit low, and she isn’t too energetic. You’re in total contrast to her. You’re quiet and lethargic, with a cold exterior and an always sad face. “Thanks,” you squeak out, grabbing the thick pieces of cloth from her. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she hums, and you nod your head shyly.
Natasha watches you carefully, and her gaze is painfully piercing. Your eyes dart from looking downwards to looking at her, and you’re not sure where to keep your sight trained. She rakes her eyes all along your body, but she particularly stares at your chest. Your red bra can be seen through your beloved top, but you have a hard time realizing that. You’re smart—clever even—but you’re not bright in the sense that you can tell if someone likes you or hates you.
“Uhm, I’m going to take a shower now…” you announce, even though it’s not your responsibility or obligation to tell her. Natasha still stares at you, and you slowly back up. You inch closer to the bathroom, but you don’t turn around just yet. “Okay! Have a good shower,” she smiles, suddenly whipping herself around and walking out your door. Natasha’s hair bounces with volume, and it frames her face perfectly.
She’s out of your sight, and you turn around and step into the bathroom. The back of your foot gently knocks against the wooden door, and it closes behind you. Just not all the way. You slowly strip yourself of your remaining clothing, and you slowly step inside the shower. The lighting is dim, and you find yourself struggling to adjust. Quickly, you turn the water on and wait until it’s hot enough to satisfy you.
A random, nonsensical harmony is what you are humming. There is no smooth rhythm to it, but it truly does not matter at all. You push your hand under the showerhead and smile at the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. Absolutely perfect. Slowly, you move so that your skin gets wet, and you tilt your head back so that your hair doesn’t touch the streams.
Your hands move up and down on your chest, and you let yourself get adjusted to the warmth.
A head peeks through the door, and it’s got red and blonde locks with a few grey strands. Natasha stealthily hides behind the door frame, and only her eyes and forehead can be seen. She watches you because that’s what she does best. You’re a piece of art meant for only her to look at. Each movement of yourself gets ingrained into her mind, and she won’t forget anything just yet.
You cup your tits and sigh in relief, smiling gleefully at the lovely feeling of the water. Your eyes are closed, but they’re not squeezed shut. You can’t see her, but that doesn’t make a difference for Natasha. She doesn’t worry about being careful or quiet because she knows that you’re too aloof to even feel her gaze or presence. “Such a dumb baby,” she mutters before licking her lips until they’re soft and supple.
Your hands leave your chest, and you stretch your arms to grab the plastic bottle of body wash. It’s brand new, straight from Natasha’s latest shopping trip before you arrived. You don’t put much thought to it as she wishes you would, and you don’t even take the time to notice that it’s your favourite, limited-edition scent. It frustrates her—you frustrate her.
She hates you, but she loves you. She wants you, and she needs you.
The tune continues, merging into your favourite song that Natasha has already memorized. From the first verse, all the way to the bridge that is followed by the outro, she remembers it more than any of her personal information. She knows you better than you do yourself and definitely much better than your past lovers.
White clouds of soap cover your body, and you slowly bend down to reach your toes. You move out of the way so that the water doesn’t hit you. The remaining droplets flow downwards and past your butt. Natasha moves closer to you, and she now stands in the doorway with her bottom lip snug between her pearly teeth. She catches a sight that’s meant for sore eyes, something that should be taken with a camera.
Yet, even the lens can’t capture your beauty. Nothing and nobody can, except for her.
Your perfect pussy is exposed, but not enough for Natasha to creep up behind you and stuff a few fingers inside without having to part your lips. Wetness pools her brand new panties as she continues to stare at your pussy, and she curses under her breath. She takes another step forward, and she wishes she could speed her plan up by just a few steps.
But Natasha can’t, and she isn’t willing to risk it all right now.
Slowly, you begin to stand up straight. In a moment of panic, Natasha quickly hides behind the wall once again. You move underneath the water and hold the loofa in your hand carefully. You slowly rinse your body of all the soap, and you tilt your head backwards. In an almost teasing manner, you push your chest forwards until your tits are pushing out. A smile is on your face, but it’s faint.
Natasha knows that you can’t see her. She’s too skilled, and you’re too stupid. But she wonders if you’re putting on a show just for her, waiting until she pushes you against the wall with her hand clamped over your mouth. “такая гребаная шлюха,” she whispers, and she rubs her thighs together for a little bit of friction. It’s enough to leave her even more desperate for you, but it’s not enough to satiate her needs.
She turns her head once more, only to see you simply standing beneath the water with your eyes closed. Your loofa is strewn somewhere in the shower, but it doesn’t matter to either of you. Natasha’s solid and slender fingers reach for the buttons of her jeans, and she begins to play with them. The fabric folds open, and she zips down her fly until her panties are exposed. They’re soaked, and her clit throbs as her mind runs wild.
Suddenly, the loud sound of the water flowing comes to a halt. She looks back up to see you facing the glass door. The fog from the water begins to form, and you soon turn into a faded memory. Before you can wipe it away and stain the surfaces with your hands, Natasha turns around and makes a beeline for her bedroom that is only across from yours. She shuts her door quietly, and she quickly strips herself of her clothing.
As her hands crawl down to her soaking pussy, yours wipe your skin dry of any wetness.
“Hey, uh, Nat? What time is it?” you nervously ask from your spot behind the kitchen counter. Your Step-Mother sits on the couch that’s a few meters away, with her legs folded up. She stares at the television intensely before looking down at the clock beneath it. “It’s six-thirty-four. Why?” she asks, turning her body around to face you as best she can.
“Oh, nothing… I’m just kind of hungry, that’s all,” you awkwardly admit, scratching the back of your neck out of habit. “Oh, sweetie, you should’ve told me!” Natasha exclaims, turning the screen off and standing up. She walks towards you quickly, and she begins to pen up the cupboards. “What do you want to eat? Pasta? Soup? How about a sandwich? Or maybe a salad?” she questions, and you feel a bit overwhelmed.
You stutter, not sure what to say. “I- I don’t know. I’m so sorry,” you mumble, and Natasha lets out a coo. “Aw, that’s okay. I’ll surprise you. Do you like wine? I have a bottle. You can take it,” she offers, and your heart blooms with softness. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to do all the work,” you question, placing your phone underneath one of the pillows.
Natasha’s back is turned away from you, and she’s grabbing the wine she promised you. She spins around smoothly, and she almost ends the move with a pose that a ballerina would do. “Don’t worry, okay?” she reassures, handing you the bottle along with an overly large glass. “Let Mommy do the hard work,” she mumbles, and you only catch her words by the sliver of a hair.
“You said something, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” Natasha chuckles, “I said, ‘Let me do the hard work.’” Your head tilts to the side like an overly curious child with a hundred questions in your arsenal. You could swear you heard something else, but you know you can’t always trust your ears. Carefully, you open the wine bottle and pour yourself half a glass. But her hand moves to the base of the green bottle, and before you know it, she’s doing it herself.
You open your mouth to tell her to stop, yet not one word comes from you. The red liquid reaches the top of the glass, and there’s only one centimetre of space between the colour and the brim. Natasha moves away from you, and she stares at you with a blank expression. You can see your warped, filtered reflection in your glass. A sad, confused face that doesn’t know any better—never knew any better.
“Have at it, sweetie. Do you like to drink? I do. I love a good bottle of wine or whiskey, especially in this place,” she rambles casually, and you remain in your stiff position. You look down at the alcohol with not one rational thought running through your brain. “Uh, yeah. I like wine and movies,” you bluntly answer before finally tearing your eyes away.
“Sounds fun,” Natasha states before grabbing a pot and turning the pipe on. The loud sound of the water hitting the metal of the sink hurts at first, but you quickly adjust to it. “What kind of movies?” she questions before abruptly shutting the pipe off. You bring the glass up to your mouth, and you take a small sip. It’s bitter, far too bitter. But it’s also too sweet, much too sweet.
Is it the pierce and quality that makes it so… unusual? Or maybe it’s you and your long-reigning sobriety of a pathetic two weeks.
“Those stupid romantic comedies,” you tell her through a saliva-blocked through. You swallow, and the wine goes down harshly. “Such as?” she pushes even more, and you’re lethargically shaking your head. “‘The Proposal’ and ‘Maid in Manhattan,’ for example. I like those types of movies when I’m drunk,” you force out, and you’re just the tiniest bit troubled by her interrogation.
“I haven’t watched those yet. I have an idea!” Natasha exclaims, and you fight the urge to sigh heavily. You already know what it is, and you hate the way she acts as if she’s having some sort of philosophical realization. “We should watch one of them after we eat. It’ll be perfect!” she proposes, and you exhale loudly. Natasha has the brightest smile on her face, and it makes you feel terrible for being so rude.
“While I get the food ready, you should go and find one of the movies on Netflix. I think I’d rather watch ‘The Proposal’ so choose that one! Let me do the rest,” she urges while gently pushing you towards the couch she was just sitting on. You have no choice but to go with what she’s telling you. You hold the glass tightly, and you’re careful not to spill anything.
Natasha’s hands leave your shoulders, and she walks back to the kitchen. Carefully, you fold your legs on the couch. Your calves meet the back of your thighs, and your ankles touch each other. You’re too self-conscious to get entirely comfortable when she’s in the room, so you leave yourself like that. The remote, almost the same size as your hand, sits next to you, and you grab it.
“How’s your wine?” Natasha asks, holding a shiny knife in her hand. You don’t look back in her direction. “It’s good! Better than what I’m used to,” you tell her before taking a long sip from your glass. She hums, and you stare at the screen while it changes every second. Movies of all genres and all languages flash before your eyes, and even snippets of them begin to play when you’re not able to click away fast enough.
“There it is!” she exclaims from behind you, and you jump in shock. Your wine shakes in its glass, just nearly spilling over the edge and only seconds away from almost staining your dark grey sweatpants. Almost. Inside your chest is your battered heart, and it’s clamouring wildly. With every passing beat, you fear it will jump out and drown itself in the lake.
“Aw, poor thing. Did I scare you?” Natasha questions, and her tone is condescending. You see it as humour, though. “Yes, you did! But if I spilled this drink, then you’d have to clean it up as payback,” you retort, before drinking from the said glass once again. Looking back up at the television, a screen capture of Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds standing across from each other is what you’re faced with.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she sternly chastises with warning and softness laced in her tone.
You giggle at her words to fill the silence, but it comes out more like a nervous chuckle. The tension is thick, and it could be cut with the knife in Natasha’s hands. The blade slices through a tomato, and it hits the plastic cutting board with blunt force. “I’ll start the movie. You can watch while cooking,” you mumble, and with two hits of the ‘OK’ button, the film starts.
As soon as you throw the remote, you return to your beloved (but once hated) glass of wine. It’s already halfway done, and you can feel it settling in your system. Your body feels heavy yet light, and you’ve got a sort of buzzing running through your body. It’s addictive, and you crave more of it. You down what’s left of your drink while holding your breath. Perhaps you’ll regret it, but it’s not like you have dozens of responsibilities waiting for you.
“Take it easy there, lightweight,” Natasha jests, watching as you set the glass on the table. “I’m not a lightweight when it comes to drinking! …At least I don’t think so,” you shout back at her, a little louder than anticipated. “Then why are you already slurring your words?” she retorts, and you knit your eyebrows together. “I am?” you question before replaying your sentences until they sound like absolute nonsense.
“I’m kidding,” she chuckles, and you follow her sounds with your own laughter. It’s music to her ears, and she could never tire of it. She could never tire of you, even if you’re a bit of a handful sometimes.
Natasha turns on the fire of the stove with a few clicks of a dial. You twist your head most painfully and awkwardly ever, and you watch as she throws in pieces of penne pasta. They fall into the water with a small splash, and she croons in delight. “What are you making?” you ask, still staring at her. She turns around, and her hair whips with her movement.
“Creamy tomato pasta!” Natasha exclaims, and you sigh dreamily. “I love that,” you tell her, remembering the way you ate only that dish for five days straight. “Good. Now stop looking at me and watch the movie!” she ushers, and you shake your head at her words. But you still listen to her, obedient as ever. You stare at the screen, yet you don’t understand what’s going on.
You’ve watched this movie far too much to not remember the main character’s name… Are you indeed that drunk? From only one glass of wine? Your eyes burn. You haven’t blinked once even though your eyelids are so heavy. “Oh, you finished your drink? Why didn’t you tell me, silly baby?” Natasha queries, and you snap your head in her direction once again.
“Didn’t you just call me something?” you ask while sitting up straight, even though you’re swaying back and forth and side to side. “I didn’t call you anything,” she chortles, but you don’t buy it. “No, I’m pretty sure you did,” you push, and you press your knuckles against one of the cushions you’re sitting on. The long nails at the tips of your fingers dig into your skin, but you don’t care for the pain.
“I promise you, I never called you anything. Don’t you trust me? Why would I lie about something so small; what would I even gain from that?” Natasha insists, and her despairing tone has you taken aback. But she’s right, even though you hate to admit it. Yet, you could still swear you heard otherwise.
“I- Uhm, oh God. I’m so sorry,” you whisper quietly before sitting back to where you once were. You can hear her exhaling roughly, muttering something under her breath and turning the heat up again. “It’s fine. Here, take more wine,” she says after a while, rushing to your side with the same bottle. Before you can even tell Natasha you’re more than okay with what you just had, she’s filling the cup to the brim a second time.
“Oh, wow, okay,” you awkwardly squeak out as she hands it to you. You take it carefully before bringing it to your lips. Natasha walks away, swaying her hips because it’s one of her many signature moves. The empty bottle is bluntly dropped into the garbage can, and you can hear it breaking into sharp shards. The sound has your skin crawling in fear because you know it’s a painful mess to clean up.
Your skin is hot to the touch, and you’ve got a sort of vibration that runs wildly. That sick feeling in your stomach has changed. It doesn’t grow when you think of that lover of yours—that once was yours. It’s diminished, gone and only turned into a mild ache that you can’t suppress without a painkiller or any more wine. Everything is so dreamlike, hazy, and surreal, but you’re more grounded and realistic than ever.
Is this drunkenness? It is because it’s familiar. It’s just different, that’s all.
A giggle is let out, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that it came from you. “Silly, silly, baby…” echoes Natasha’s voice, but you don’t hear it. You let out another giggle at a scene, except there’s nothing funny about it.
“This wine is so good, Nat. I love it so much,” you admit, sighing in content.
You can hear the way your words merge together and into incoherence. “If you love it that much, maybe you should finish it all right now,” Natasha coerces, and you laugh again. “Of course, I’m going to finish it. You don’t have to tell me twice!” you chuckle with a bright smile on your face that hurts. It doesn’t fall, and the alcohol in your system has no plans of that ever happening until tomorrow morning.
The dark red liquid is gone, and it’s sliding down your throat as you empty the bowl. The sourness and the sweetness mix with each other and lays themselves on your tongue perfectly. You’ve never drank something so perfect before. When you rub your tongue against the roof of your mouth, it’s wet. But when you leave it alone, it feels dry.
Continuously, you rub your tongue and try to grow accustomed to the dryness. “N- Nat?” you call out, looking inside the glass. There’s a little tinge of wine left, and you don’t make the move to take it. “Yeah, sweet thing?” Natasha questions, right after placing a small cube of butter in a skillet. She walks towards you while being careful of the stove.
Here she goes with the pet names again… Right?
“Can I get some water, please? My mouth is dry. I think it’s because of the wine… Not that it’s bad, or anything—actually, it’s amazing! Is it a dry wine? Semi-dry? Is there some fancy word for that?” you ramble, holding onto the glass like it’s some comforting pillow. Natasha smiles down at you dearly, and she turns on her heel. “That wine is so good! The best I’ve ever had. Must’ve cost you a lot,” you mumble loud enough for her to hear.
“Sure did. But it’s worth it, trust me,” she tells you in a sing-song voice. You can’t hear any pipes behind you flowing with water, and it confuses you. Natasha’s feet patter on the ground, and before you can even sit up properly, she’s already by your side. A cork pops, and you whip your already-dizzy head to look at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, grabbing your cup from the table.
Wait, when did you place it there? Wasn’t it just in your hand?
“I asked for water…?” you tell her, unsure of yourself. “No, you didn’t. You asked me for wine. ...Don’t you remember? You said you wanted more wine because your mouth was dry,” she explains, but you’re more perplexed than ever. You stare off into the distance, trying to piece together what she’s saying. You could swear you asked for water.
Could you, though? Could you really?
The sound of liquid sloshing breaks your train of thought. Natasha is pouring you another cup of wine, even though you think you didn’t ask for it. She hands it to you with a smile on her face. “It’s hitting you hard, I can tell. That’ll be your last cup for the night, no arguing. Enjoy it because it’s all you’re getting other than a plate of delicious food,” she hums, and you sigh heavily.
Nodding your head, you give her the signal to leave you to mellow by yourself. As soon as her multi-coloured hair and white sweater are out of your line of vision, you drink the entirety of the wine like it’s the water you wanted. It doesn’t quite satisfy your main need, but it does the job for a few others. You gulp quite loudly, and it makes her giggle.
The stove clicks again, and the fire turns off. You let out a hearty groan, not giving the alcohol a second to settle before throwing yourself back. “Oh. You’re done cooking already?” you question, kicking your feet up on the table. “No,” she answers, trying her hardest to look at you. But all Natasha can see is the top of your head. “Why’d you turn the stove off?” you add, and you can feel your body loosening up.
“Because I want to make sure you’re okay,” Natasha softly admits, and you turn around. Once again, your neck is painfully craned, but you don’t care. Your heart is soft, and it melts like a once frozen puddle. Shakily, you exhale, and your breath reeks of that delicious wine. The taste hasn’t faded yet, and you don’t want it to for a while.
“You’re so kind… You know, the uh, the person I was dating before would take care of me, but not this way. ...Like, you’re doing so much for me, and I barely know you. Why? You’re too sweet. It makes me have a cavity or two,” you mumble in a blur of words. You think you make no sense, but you’re entirely cohesive.
Natasha doesn’t say anything.
“You design a whole room for me—and might I add, it’s everything I like! How? How’d you figure that out? It’s been what—almost two years since we last met? I don’t know, but I know that I’ve changed so drastically, and you still managed to understand me entirely. Ugh, what am I even saying?” you groan loudly, and she’s still silent.
You don’t care.
“It’s just—I guess I miss being taken care of, that’s all. And since you’re taking care of me, I’m not sure what to do or think,” you sadly admit, sinking further down into the seat. You’re nearly on the floor, but you keep yourself balanced with your strong elbows. They’ve punched at ribs gently, and they’ve closed doors as well. Your cold hand lets go of the glass, and it hits the carpet.
“Shit!” you curse, and you sit up properly. Your whole world spins, but you try your hardest to put yourself back together. “Leave it,” Natasha orders, yet you ignore her. It’s not broken, and nothing has spilled. Your fingers touch it, and it rolls away. It hides underneath the table, and you groan in annoyance. You bend forward even more, and you’re blinking slowly. Everything slowly becomes less defined, and it makes you feel uneasy.
“I said to leave it, sweet thing. Why don’t you listen to me? Look at you,” Natasha whispers, and you let out a whimper. Her hands grab your shoulders, and she guides you back onto the sofa. “It went so far…” you whine, reaching your arm towards the cup. “I’ll get it. It’s not that big of a deal, okay?” she grunts, stretching her leg beneath the table. Her toe nudges the glass back in your direction.
“I know! But I feel so bad, Nat. I feel so bad,” you mutter, and she lets out a coo. You look up at Natasha, and you squint your eyes until they’re a second away from shutting completely. You can only make out her head. She sits next to you and adjusts your lower limbs. They fold up, and she’s right beside them. Natasha’s gentle yet rough hand is placed right above your knee, and you don’t know what to do about it.
You’re uncomfortable, yet you’re so relaxed at the same time. “He used to put his hand on me like that. Just right there,” you whisper to yourself, but you’re louder than you want to be. “Really? How sweet,” Natasha purrs, and you nod your head in confirmation. “Yeah. But it would be more… soft? Almost as if it wasn’t even there,” you explain, spinning your hands as you try to make sense.
“Do you miss him, sweetheart?” she questions after a few moments, and her thumb draws circles on your pants. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I don’t love him, but I miss him. Hope that makes sense, or whatever…” you slur sadly, and Natasha begins to move her hands around. She brings it higher up your thigh before dragging it back to where it was initially. She continues this movement, hoping to provide you with physical comfort.
“It makes sense, sweetie. It makes a lot of sense. I don’t think you miss him, though. I think you miss being loved,” she admits, and you inhale sharply. You hold your breath for a few seconds before letting it go and allowing your chest to fall. Her words sink into your like freshly sharpened blades. Prep, sharpen, polish. Diamond, tungsten, ceramic. Each layer of your skin is pierced, and it hurts profoundly.
“You miss being cherished and taken care of. You were finally left by yourself for once, and you couldn’t handle it. It was so abrupt, right? Like a slap in the face. And that’s why you came here. You needed someone,” she continues, twisting the knives in your and even rubbing salt on the fresh wounds. You close your eyes, and they burn from exhaustion. It feels good, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact that your Step-Mother is more than correct.
“Open your eyes, sweetie. It’s rude and disrespectful to do that when I’m talking to you,” she demands, and you listen to her begrudgingly. Your lids fly open, and your eyesight is still blurry. “Good. What was I saying?” Natasha ponders out loud, even though she remembers it exactly. You stare at her intensely, and your eyes are blown out completely. Hers are the same. Has she been drinking?
“Y- You were talking about me…” you tell her, trying your best to not add any details.
“Oh, right! Be a little more specific,” she demands, and your stomach twists.“You were talking about me, and my breakup, and how I’m dependent on others when it comes to taking care of myself,” you quickly blurt out, and you’re more articulate than you should be. “Yes, spot on. I just wanted to make sure you understood, okay?” Natasha assures sweetly.
You gulp thickly. Her head tilts mildly, and the hair on her shoulders moves. Though everything looks like colourful blobs, you can still see the numerous gray strands that mainly reside near her scalp. You have to admit they don’t look terrible and that they’re quite stylish. Natasha is quite stylish, and she dresses even better than you ever will. Perhaps it’s the money she gets as a ‘thank you’ each month, or maybe she just has good taste.
“I asked you a question,” she reminds, and your train of thought breaks before you even realize it has long departed. “I- uh, yeah, I forgive you! Tough love, hard pill to swallow, that sorta thing,” you mumble, and Natasha sighs heavily. “You’re so drunk, sweetie. Can you sit up, please? And drink some water?” she requests before pulling you up herself. Your world nearly falls off its axis, and you grab onto her for support.
“Oh, no. You’re dizzy, I can just tell. Do you feel nauseous?” Natasha asks, and you gently shake your head. There’s no painful thrumming that stretches itself across your skull, and you’re glad. “I think we should skip our plans for tonight. Let’s get you upstairs, and then we’ll see how you’re feeling,” she plans before lifting you up gently. You have no room to say anything, and you have no words to give to Natasha.
Her left arm crawls around your waist like a spider, and her palm sits against your stomach. Natasha’s other hand holds your two wrists together, and she leads you up the stairs like you’re some sort of a prisoner. With each step, your body becomes heavy, and you find yourself struggling to do the things that you should be doing on autopilot. In the blink of your bleary eyes, you suddenly find yourself in a room.
It’s not yours because nothing is familiar, you know this. But it’s not your guest bedroom, and it isn’t your father’s either. “It’s my bedroom. Didn’t want you to walk too far,” Natasha quickly clarifies, and you nod your head while raising your eyebrows. She lets go of your hands, and she slowly pushes you onto her soft bed. You let your body fall onto the mattress, and she laughs at you.
The sheets smell of ivy and rosewater, and the only reason you can place your finger on these things is that she once explained the things she enjoys in life. Ballet, horror movies, ice cream straight from the tub, bubble baths, fireflies and the violin. Put them in a box, shake it all up, open it and out will come her.
You sigh dreamily and rub your sweaty palms against the bed. The silky, soft feeling is so euphoric, fresh and comforting. Natasha’s hand returns to your shoulder, and she turns you around in one quick move. She has your eyes turning upwards and your head spinning like a basketball. Your hands search for something to keep you grounded, and they find Natasha’s forearms.
“Oh, no… You’re dizzy now,” she takes note, frowning just a little bit. Natasha’s plump, pink lips become softer as she drags her tongue over them. You watch her carefully before you’re snapped out of your trance. She peels your hands away from her, and she moves away. “I’m going to be right back. I just have to go do something really quickly. Sit tight. If you need anything, just call for me,” she tells you.
Before you know it, she’s already walking off. You slowly come to your hands and feet, and you crawl further up the bed. With a heavy sigh, you place your head against one of her fluffy pillows and lay down comfortably. Your legs sprawl in a weird direction, yet it’s relaxing nonetheless.
Your eyes flutter shut, but you’re not sleepy at all. Your arms move up and down, almost as if you’re playing in the snow, and you find yourself falling in love with Natasha’s bed.
“Comfortable, right?” Natasha asks, shutting the door behind her with the back of her foot. You jump, and you immediately sit up. She doesn’t say anything. “Y- Yeah, really comfortable. Might have to steal it from you,” you giggle, and you notice that your speech hasn’t improved from the last time you spoke.
“I wouldn’t mind,” she admits. You nod your head, and you press your tongue against your top teeth. Natasha sets something down on the bedside table. It sits next to a white landline that looks like it’s been pulled straight out of your childhood. “Are you thirsty?” Natasha questions and you look over to see a glass of water. The thought of drinking something else has you growing deeply.
“I’ll take that as a no. Nauseous? Dizzy? Tired?” she continues, and you shake your head. Natasha’s plump bottom lip is dragged between her sharp teeth, and you stare at her mouth uncontrollably. “But how do you feel, darling?” she asks once more, tilting her head. She sits down next to you, and her eyes lock with yours.
“I feel weird. That’s all,” you bluntly tell her with a smile on your face. Natasha’s hand travels to your knee once again. “I know, sweetie. I bet you feel nice and relaxed, right?” Natasha queries, and you slowly bob your head. A few beats of silence take up the moment, and your jaw falls slack just a bit.
“I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you’re okay, and you won’t ever have to worry,” she whispers, almost enchanting you with her words.
Natasha stands up, and you keep leaning backwards until you’re lying down. She brings her body close to you until strands of her hair are lightly brushing against your skin. Shivers run down your spine, and you feel pretty strange. She’s so close to you, and it’s eerily familiar. You shuffle away from her just a tiny bit, and she frowns. “What’s wrong?” Natasha innocently asks.
“You’re so close to me. It’s weird. Never been this close to someone in so long,” you dolefully confess, and your hands come up to your chest. “Oh, sweetie. Do you want me to go away? I’ll go if you want,” she abruptly offers, but you quickly stop her. “No! No, please don’t. Uhm… I don’t want to be alone,” you whisper. “I won’t leave you alone,” Natasha murmurs, and you look up at her with glossy eyes. “Really?” you gasp.
“Trust me,” Natasha repeats, and you squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears. Memories come flooding in, and months of yearning for a certain someone’s return as well. “Don’t get all sad on me now. This was supposed to be a fun night, remember?” she urges, and you open your eyes again. You nod your head. “Well, let’s have some fun,” Natasha proposes, and you smile happily.
Your mood gives her whiplash, but she puts up with you nonetheless. Warm hands grab at the bottom of your shirt, and you’re confused. “Don’t worry about a thing, and keep that pretty mouth shut. I’ll do everything,” Natasha quickly hushes, and she pulls your sweater over your head. She’s rough when dragging it over your head, and you’re not sure how to feel about it.
Natasha throws the sweater on the ground next to the bed. You’re left in your jeans, underwear and the red bra that you wore earlier today. “That’s a pretty bra you got there, baby. Was it expensive?” she questions, hooking her pointer finger where the two cups nearly meet. Her soft skin touches yours, and you cringe. Nodding your head gently, you keep your hands at your sides.
“Don’t lie. You got it on sale some time ago. You bought a black one just like it as well,” she snaps suddenly, and you nod your head once again. Natasha’s hands move to your back, and they slither like the most venomous of snakes. She grabs the clasp and undoes it before raking her nails against your skin. The scratches continue until the straps of your bra are sliding down your arms on their own.
“I…” you start, but you have nothing to say. “I said to be quiet, darling,” she reminds you, and your mouth snaps closed. “If you break that rule again, I’m going to do something you won’t like. I bet you’d look so pretty all beaten up,” Natasha threatens, and you gulp thickly while your heart begins to beat erratically. Tears of fear sting your eyes, but you blink them away before any of them fall.
Your tits are exposed, and your nipples immediately pebble up. Natasha lets the bra join your sweater on the floor before she marvels at your upper body. “Baby… You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Natasha gasps, and she cups your breasts with her warm hands. You fight the urge to move away from her. She squeezes lightly, and you inhale sharply. “Why would you hide this from me? That’s very selfish of you,” she chastises, and you don’t respond to her.
Your Step-Mother swings her left leg over your body, and she straddles you perfectly. Natasha hovers above your knees, and she has you trapped. “And you look even prettier with me on top of you,” she adds before leaving your tits alone. Playfully, she dances her fingers down to your waist. Your jeans begin there, and you wait for her to pull them down. You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to keep them open.
“Look at me, princess, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” Natasha orders in a sing-song voice. You let go of the breath you’ve been holding, and you listen to him. “Good girl,” she praises. Slowly, she pops each button of your pants open. Then she grabs the zipper and leisurely drags it downwards. Your body is relieved of the tight fabric, but your mind is stressed over her.
Black cotton panties fill her view, and she adjusts her position so that she can fully undress you. “Aw, how cute. Quite boring and plain, though. We’ll have to fix that another time. I bought you a cute thong, and it even has my symbol on it!” Natasha explains, and you feel uncomfortable under her gaze. Her fingers grab at the band of your underwear, and you let out a whimper.
“What’s wrong, princess? Is Mommy moving too fast? Hm? I bet that poor little brain is all fuzzy. I told you not to worry,” Natasha coos, and you’re panting with nervousness. Though your lungs are being pushed past their limits, you feel like you’re going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Your bottom lip wobbles, and you want to cry and scream until your voice gives out.
But you don’t do anything. The wine and fear have you paralyzed.
Natasha ignores your worry, and she continues to undress you. She painfully drags the cheap fabric down your thighs, and she drops her jaw at the sight of your eventually exposed pussy. Suddenly, she pulls her hands away from the material, and it snaps against your skin, “Ouch!” you squeal, and the stinging makes you grab onto the bed sheets. “Sorry, baby. But I have to say I love seeing you in pain like that,” she chuckles.
You have nothing to say, and you’re afraid to break her rule, so you keep quiet. “I want to make this more fun!” she admits, and her hands return to your panties. They’re halfway down your thighs. One fist pushes forward, and the other pulls in the opposite direction. With only the tiniest bit of strength, Natasha rips the front of your panties in half. She continues to tear the cloth until it’s a useless shred.
It remains underneath you, and she yanks it out with a little more power. A pleasing sound passes through her closed lips, and your eyes remain trained on her. Natasha’s green orbs are blown out with darkness, and she looks as though she’s been taken over by some unholy creature. You wonder if yours are the same or if she just adores them because they’re always glazed with tears.
Natasha’s hands are back on you once again. They’re between your thighs, and she suddenly parts your legs. Your body involuntarily moves with her movements, almost as if you’ve been put under a spell. Her eyes drop from your face to your exposed pussy. Your face heats up with embarrassment as she stares at your most intimate place.
“The prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen… So perfect. But I’ll ruin it eventually, turn it into my little fuck hole,” she whispers as her mouth salivates.
Your Step-Mother’s cunt is soaked beyond belief, and so she rubs her thighs together for a bit of friction. She grinds her hips downwards and into the bed, but it’s not enough to fully satiate her needs. “Fuck. I want to take it slow, baby, but I just can’t control myself anymore. But I know you’re fine with that because you’re a good girl,” she smiles, even though you’re staring at her in disgust.
Through your drunken haze, you’re still able to know right from wrong. And what Natasha is doing is certainly not right at all, despite what she may believe.
“Don’t you dare move,” she orders, and you obediently nod your head. Natasha gives you a gentle smile. She runs her fingers through her dishevelled hair while exhaling shakily. Her hands leave your thighs again, and she sits up on her knees. Her strong legs are folded up, and you can see the way they flex and clench. You remain beneath her, and you have no choice but to watch as she unbuckles her belt.
In one swift move, it leaves each loop, and the ends hit each other. Natasha throws the belt to the side before hastily unbuttoning and unzipping her dark gray jeans. She does it slowly and almost teasingly, and you have a feeling that she’s trying to solicit a reaction from you. A moment of weakness? Anger? What does she want from you? Your mind is a muddy puddle suddenly, and you can’t seem to think as straight as you did a few seconds ago.
You notice a slight bulge that reaches the middle of her right thigh. It’s unusual, and you’re not sure what it is.
“Look right at my pussy, baby. I want to see your eyes there,” Natasha demands, and you find yourself following her instructions. Natasha looks downwards to her crotch area, and she pushes her jeans down. Pale skin fills the gap between her thighs, and at first, you just see her bare leg. Knitting your eyebrows together, you focus hard to refocus your blurry vision.
“Dumb baby,” she mutters underneath her breath, frustrated with your lack of common sense. “Не думал, что вы настолько зависимы... Раздражает, но это мило. Я всегда предпочитаю глупых шлюх умным. Их легче сломать,” she sighs with a smirk on her face. Natasha snaps her fingers twice, and the short sound is loud enough to grab your attention. She points at her core, and your gaze follows her finger.
You gasp quite loudly, even though it’s not enough to fully capture your shock. A long, thick, detailed piece of plastic that is the same colour as Natasha’s pale skin hangs between her legs. It bounces up, and it’s stiff. There are veins on the side, and it is a little too realistic.
Natasha moves around wildly as she gets rid of the rest of her clothing. She discards her shirt, bra, pants and underwear. All she has is a necklace and a fake cock, and she is more concealed than you in the most peculiar way ever. Your jaw remains slacked in shock, and you don’t realize it until a bit of saliva wets your lip. You quickly shut your mouth with a painful snap, and Natasha laughs at you.
“What’s wrong, baby? Is it too big? Not big enough? Just what you dreamed of? Even better than you imagined? I mean, you’re drooling, and your mouth was open, so it must be good,” Natasha smirks, and her overconfidence has your stomach fluttering with both half-dead moths and newborn butterflies. Her lips are upturned in a wicked smirk that rivals your slight frown.
Before you can say anything to her or squeak out any mouse-like sound, Natasha roughly grabs your arms. She lifts you with ease and pits you to sit on the pillows that she’s lied on numerous nights before. Your back is against the head of the bed, and she sits in front of you with her legs slightly parted. Natasha kneels in front of you, and she gets as comfortable as she desires.
Her right hand grabs the base of her fake cock. It weighs heavily in her grip, and she treats it like it’s real. “N- Nat…” you whisper out, and you so badly want to bargain for her to leave you alone. “Shh… I didn’t say you could speak, baby,” Natasha hushes, and her features harden in frustration. Your mouth remains open, and yet you don’t say a word.
“And don’t call me Nat. I’m not your friend,” she adds, tracing her finger against the most prominent vein on the cock. “Call me ‘Mommy’ because I’m your Mommy,” she demands, and you choke on your alcohol-flavoured saliva. Your eyes widen in shock, nearly falling out of their sockets—your stomach twists in disgust. You feel nauseous for many reasons.
But your pussy drools at the title, and hearing it come from her makes your clit throb just a tiny bit.
“Got it?” Natasha questions, tilting her head to the side. You nod your head, but then Natasha brings her other hand up to her head. Her pointer finger taps her ear, and your heart beats wildly once again. “Got it, Mommy,” you whisper as quietly as you can, and you’re upset with yourself. “Good girl! God, you’re so good for me, baby,” she praises with her cheeks as red as the wine.
You don’t say anything else to her, and your eyes dart around wildly as you try to focus on something other than her. You find yourself continuously returning to where her dominant hand is, and now and then, you stare for a few seconds too long. The veins, the length, the thickness, the sheer sight of it is so much for you to handle.
You can’t help but imagine her using it, and your imagination takes the reins to guide you to the image of her plowing into you until you’re sobbing as she promised.
That tight hole of yours drools with want and need, and you squeeze your thighs together to try and stop it. Natasha catches you, and she chuckles. “Oh, is that little pussy of yours wet, baby? There’s no need to be ashamed…” she purrs, batting her lashes. You whimper at her condescending tone, and she smiles widely.
Before you can say anything else, Natasha’s hand leaves her cock, and it comes up to her puckered mouth. All while locking eyes with you, she spits into her palm. She brings her hand back down to her cock, and she wraps her fingers around the thickest part. You follow her movements with your gaze, and suddenly, you’re watching your Step-Mother jerk herself off.
Her hand moves from the bottom of her cock, all the way to the fat tip. She strokes herself at a slow pace, almost as if she’s teasing both you and herself. The plastic shines a little bit, well-lubricated but not enough to smoothly fit into you without a wail or two.
Natasha’s other hand travels up to her chest, and her tits shift just a bit from the movement. The cold air has her nipples all pebbled up, and you can tell they’re just aching for some form of touch. Her fingers punch at her buds, and she lets out a soft moan. The sound travels straight to your wet pussy, and you’re drenched in your arousal.
She cups the soft skin, massaging one and then moving to the other in a pattern. Natasha rubs her hand over her chest, and her hips buck up into her fist. “Oh, baby, I’m so wet for you. You make me so wet, I can barely stop myself from touching…” she whispers for you, staring as she continues to play with herself. Natasha’s cheeks hollow out, and she leans forward to spit on her cock once again.
You watch as a wad of her saliva drips down to her hand, and it eventually disappears. Her hand moves quicker, and you’re so mesmerized by her movements. “I love touching myself while thinking about you. I think about fucking those holes of yours and sitting on your pretty face. Just using you as I please because that’s all you’re good for,” Natasha groans, squeezes one of her breasts harshly.
Biting down on your lip harshly, you can’t help but feel flustered with this new knowledge. “Mommy loves you so much, baby. My little fuck toy, all mine. Look at my hand. This could be your mouth, or maybe even your pussy if you’re lucky. I’d fuck you stupid and empty that mind of yours. Treat you how you deserve to be treated,” Natasha husks, and you let out a whimper.
“Oh, poor baby, you want my cock? Yeah? Do you like watching me play with myself? Say it, fucking say it to me,” she demands, and she moves her hand more roughly. Squelching sounds fill the room, along with her soft moans. Her skin is red and covered in a slight sheen of sweat. You want to be near Natasha so badly. You know it’s wrong, but the wine in your system makes you not care at all.
“I- I want your cock, Mommy. I love watching you play with yourself. It makes me so wet. Please, Mommy, please give me your cock,” you pathetically beg, and you find yourself grinding down against the bed for some sort of relief. She clicks her tongue and smiles in delight. “Good girl,” she praises, and suddenly, she stops touching herself. You feel the need to whine and beg for her to keep going, but you tell yourself not to.
Your Step-Mother’s right hand leaves her cock, and her left hand does the same with her chest. For a split second, the light catches on her diamond ring. It shines in your face, and the reminder has your stomach dropping and turning like a pot of acid. You’re repulsed—no, no, you want to be repulsed. But you don’t find it in you to want to throw up or scream at her or make a run for it.
Suddenly, Natasha is on top of you. She grabs your legs and drags you downwards. “Beg me to fuck you, slut,” she commands roughly, and you gulp thickly. “Uhm, uh,” you stutter, trying to come up with something as quickly as possible. “Or else I’ll tie you up and leave you to watch me for the rest of the night. I have this nice vibrator I wanted to try,” she threatens, and even though the offer isn’t that terrible, you still don’t like it.
Maybe she’ll leave you alone afterwards, and perhaps you can run away and never speak to anyone ever again.
“No! No, please don’t do that, Mommy. Please fuck me. I want you inside me so badly. I need you, Mommy, please. I’ll be your good girl, just for you,” you wail, and Natasha slowly parts your legs as you speak. Her cheeks turn pink, and she chuckles. “Fuck, you’re such a desperate whore. Surprised you haven’t tried to fuck me at all, especially with those wandering eyes of yours,” she smirks, and you’re ashamed of yourself.
Natasha pushes your legs up to your chest slowly. Your thighs touch your stomach, and her hands are between the backs of your knees. Your wet pussy is exposed to her entirely. Slickness drips from your tight hole down to your ass. Stickiness stains you in the best and worst way possible. You hate yourself for being hot and bothered because of her.
“Oh, you’re so wet, baby. All messy and soaked!” Natasha exclaims in faux concern. “I did this to you, didn’t I? I know I did. But I never thought you’d get this wet… Fuck, I want to clean you up so badly, but you haven’t worked hard enough for my mouth yet,” she groans, and you let out a soft moan. You’re just as drenched as your Step-Mom, if not more.
That dominant hand of hers returns to the base of her cock like a bad habit she just can’t quit. Natasha guides the tip of it to your pussy expertly. The fat head of her cock slaps against your sensitive little pearl. Once, twice, three times. Each hit sends jolts of sensitivity throughout your body, and your legs shake as well.
Her cock drags between your wet folds, and she soaks herself with your wetness. “Mommy… Please fuck me,” you plead one last time, and she smiles down at you. “You beg so nicely, baby. You need me so badly; you always have.” Slowly, Natasha pushes her cock inside of you without warning. Your hole stretches out widely, and you’re crying out in pain. It isn’t your first time, but this certainly is the only time you’ve taken someone with a cock as big as hers.
“Shhh… Take it all like the good girl you are, take all of Mommy’s cock,” she urges, and she sheathes her entire length inside you as soon as she finishes speaking. Your mouth drops open, and a silent scream leaves your mouth. Tears sting your eyes from the burning pain that lethargically dwindles into a dull, pleasurable ache. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby. You’re just gripping me so tightly. I should’ve stretched you out first, but seeing you in pain because of my fat cock is much better.”
Natasha’s words make you clench down on the plastic that impales you. She’s deep in your guts, and she nudges against your sweet spot just a bit. Your Step-Mom looks down to where you’re both connected, and she curses at the sight. “This pussy was made just for me to abuse and use. Only mine, nobody else’s,” she whispers, and you nod your head even though you don’t really agree with her.
But deep down inside, you do.
“Mommy loves hearing how much her dumb baby needs her,” Natasha admits, and she shallowly thrusts into you with a smile on her face. “Gonna ruin this pussy, make sure you know who owns it,” she grunts before dragging her hips backwards. Natasha’s cock leaves your pussy, and the tip is what remains inside of you. Suddenly, she shoves herself back into you roughly and without warning.
“Mommy!” you cry out in pain, but Natasha simply ignores you. She fucks into you roughly. Each thrust of hers sends shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body. “F- Fuck, Mommy,” you moan lewdly, and your heart clamours wildly. Wet sounds come from your pussy, and along with the simultaneous moans, they fill the room up. Natasha’s cock slips in and out of you smoothly, and she fucks you relentlessly.
“You sound so fucking pathetic, baby, just like the whore I know you are. My little whore, just for me to fuck,” Natasha pants as she fucks you. Your body is hot as the fire, and you’re sweating profusely. You nod your head at her words rapidly, and she bitterly chuckles. “Already gone stupid for my fat cock, hm? How cute. Such a lovely keeper,” she shakes her head as she slows her thrust down.
The beginning build-up of your orgasm suddenly disappears, and you whine out her title. “Shut up,” she snaps, moving upwards. Natasha’s cock is shoved into you even more, and now, she’s fully bottomed out. “Those sounds are pretty and all, but you’re pretty selfish right now. Mommy deserves some pleasure too… Open your mouth,” she demands, but instead of obeying, you knit your eyebrows together in confusion.
“I’m not going to ask again or repeat myself, baby. I’ve been too nice to you. Just be the good girl you are, and listen to me. Don’t make me hurt you,” she threatens with a bone-chilling smile on her face. Natasha then licks her lips, and they darken in colour. Your eyes become round, and you stare at her in fear. Despite the wishes of the diminished voice in the back of your mind, you do as she says.
Your mouth drops widely, and you flatten your tongue. Natasha’s cock remains still inside of you, and your pussy throbs around it. Your walls are soaked, and so is her member. “Hold your legs,” she follows, and you do exactly that. You push your legs further against your sweating chest, but Natasha ignores your job well done. Her chest hovers above your face, and her tits hang right in your view. It’s a pleasant sight.
Slowly, Natasha lowers her body down to you, and one of her hands holds her up. The other travels to her left breast, and she slowly places it in your mouth. Involuntarily, your lips wrap around the sensitive and slightly hard skin of her nipple, and she lets out a moan along with a choked-out sound. “Put that empty brain of yours to work and do something. Mommy is tired of your stupidity. Lord knows how long that lover of yours dealt with it,” she snaps, and you start to suck on her breast.
Your tired tongue swirls around her sensitive nub, and your Step-Mom lets out a sigh of satisfaction. Her sounds go straight to your pussy, and she has you getting wetter by the second. “Good girl,” Natasha praises, and she pulls her hips backwards. You moan around her tender tit, and it sends vibrations to all her nerves. You flick your wet muscle up and down, and Natasha groans loudly.
“So good for Mommy,” she breathlessly says. All of a sudden, Natasha thrusts back into you roughly, and she starts to fuck you again. Her tit slips past your lips with a small ‘pop!’ sound, and without her saying anything, you move your head to take her right nipple into your mouth. You give it the same treatment as the other one. Your moans can be felt by her through her chest, and Natasha brutally ruins your pussy.
Different levels of burning sensations hit your body, and a searing flame licks at your lower abdomen. Natasha moves her hips at such a quick, rough and marvellous pace. “Y- You’re making me feel so good, baby. Thank God that lover of yours took my money. I can’t believe he would let go of such a precious little thing,” Natasha grunts, and you’re incredibly confused.
Suddenly, the tip of Natasha’s cock starts to pound against your sensitive spot. You mewl around your Step-Mother’s breast, and she pants loudly. Your pussy hugs her cock so tightly that she struggles to move just a tiny bit. Your moans grow louder and louder as the most sensitive parts of your pussy are being stroked. The plastic shines just as bright as her diamond ring, and it’s even accompanied by strings of wetness.
“My good little whore, letting her Step-Mom fuck her pussy without a care in the world…” Natasha growls, and her thrusts are now more passionate. You moan loudly, and you suck a little harder on her tit. That hot pressure in your abdomen begins to climb, and it gets more intense with each passing second. You’ve never felt anything like it, and your cunt clenches down on her tightly.
Your eyes roll back into your skull, and Natasha’s do the same. Though the pleasure she’s feeling isn’t that strong, it’s still enough to partially satisfy her. Natasha moves her chest away from you at a sudden, and your teeth lightly graze her sensitive nipple. She hisses, but she enjoys the pain regardless of her reaction. Her breasts are covered in saliva, and so are your lips.
In a frown, you stare at her intensely. Your moans become more high-pitched and pathetic, sounding just like the noises pornstars would make. “Oh, you’re going to come, baby? You want to come all over Mommy’s cock?” Natasha asks, and she grabs your chin to angle your head downwards. Your eyes turn up even more just to look at her. You look stupid and silly, yet still so gorgeous.
“Uh-huh, I’m gonna come, Mommy!” you squeal out, feeling yourself being pulled towards the edge of the steep cliff that she’s been luring you towards for the past few minutes. It’s like you’ve got ropes tight on every limb and your waist, and despite your best efforts, you just can’t fight them. “You gotta ask nicely, little baby. Or else…” she warns without even mentioning what terrible things she can and will do to you.
You’re quick, and you know what she wants to hear—a high-pitched voice referring only to her, begging her for something you so desperately need and desire.
“Mommy, can I come? Please? It feels so good. I want to come all over your big cock. Please, please, please!” you plead, slurring your words together. You’re drunk on both alcohol and pleasure. Both yours and Natasha’s tits shake with each movement of hers. “Please, please, please, Mommy. I need to come so badly,” you beg once more, and you don’t think you can hold off any longer.
“Good girl. My good little whore, so desperate to come. Go ahead, come all over my cock,” Natasha grants, and as if on command, your pussy convulses. You wail her title loudly, and your back arches off the bed. Black stars fill your vision, and Natasha eases you through your violent orgasm. Wetness soaks her plastic cock and drips down to the bedsheets. Your skin is stained, and so is hers.
Your heart shakes wildly in your chest. You gasp loudly, trying to catch your breath as Natasha knocks it out of you. “You’re so pretty when you come. All stupid and braindead, such a good look on you,” she chuckles, and she continues to fuck you. Each thrust of hers makes you shake, and you can’t handle the stimulation. You try to call her name and tell her to stop, but your words are interrupted by your cries of pleasure.
“‘S too much,” you whine, and your poor hole starts to ache. You hug Natasha’s cock tightly, and she begins to slow down after a few seconds. “I don’t care. We’re still going,” she growls, and she squeezes your jaw harshly. You try to shake your head, but she doesn’t let you. “Nuh-uh, nope. You don’t tell me what to do. Shut up and take it, slut,” Natasha spits, but you continue to protest.
“What? Poor pussy can’t take it?” she mocks, punctuating her sentence with a sharp thrust that leaves you trembling. “Mommy…” you whisper, yet you have no words to tell her how badly you need her to stop. “You know, you shouldn’t talk back to your elders. Especially your Step-Mom. So you better listen to me, baby,” she intones, and you nod your head even though her words haven’t sunken in.
“Good. And since you want me to stop so bad, I will. You can repay me for taking care of you by coming here and putting that mouth of yours to work. It’s what I deserve for helping you escape your demons,” Natasha entices, and you don’t say a word. Her cock slips out of you, and the sound of straps moving starts to fill the room along with your pants and whines. “C’mon, I’ve been so kind to you,” Natasha further presses.
Yeah, right. As if she hasn’t been making you crazy all this time.
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