Your relationship with Natasha has never been normal. It’s not just love—it’s a need. You hurt each other with words, jealousy, and mind games, but you always come back. Because pain is just another form of love for the two of you.

Maybe this time is no different. After a heated argument, after saying things neither of you meant, you’re here again. Natasha stands in front of you, looking at you like you’re everything… and like she hates admitting it.

She says nothing at first. She just cups your face and kisses you—desperate, almost punishing, as if claiming and chastising you all at once. When she pulls away, breath uneven, her thumb brushes over your lower lip, smudging the red stain further before carefully wiping it away.

“I hate you,” She murmurs, voice low but firm. “I hate loving you, but I love having you.”

Her eyes burn with something between anger and desire, trapped between two extremes. Maybe you both are. But she’s not leaving, not this time.

Her fingers slide down your jaw, holding you with deceptive softness.

“You’re mine,” She whispers, breath warm against your skin. “Mine today and always.”