Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100
Has a lot of references to the second Iron Man movie
A tiger amongst sheep
Clarke Griffin had learned early that she was a tiger who had been raised amongst stupid, useless, weak sheep.
To say that Clarke Griffin, Wanheda-the Commander of Death, and someone who had multiple romantic partner soulmates, multiple familial soulmates and multiple ally soulmates and friends, was a tiger raised amongst sheep, was putting it lightly. The more accurate comparison, was to say that she was a monstrous, giant, fire-breathing dragon with huge wings that had been raised amongst sheep.
Clarke had come to learn that early. As early as eleven.
She had been unable to do anything else, except rip out of the skybox where she had been held and had ripped the throats out of the many different prisoners from the skyboxes. What else could she take away from that information, except that she was a dragon born amongst sheep.
But as the Ark people didn't like thinking outside of their stupid narrow little world views, she supposed the comparison to a tiger would suffice.
In any case, she was a predator, amongst weak, prey animals.
The many prey animals that she had grown up around, that wretch of a woman, her adoptive mother, Abby Griffin, who barely did any raising for Clarke, the moronic council members, Thelonius Jaha, Markus Kane, and the worthless children whom Clarke had killed, John Murphy, Nathan Miller, and others-especially Octavia Blake, they had been meaningless and she had enjoyed killing them-as young as eleven, she had enjoyed draining them of blood.
And her horrors as a predator had been too much for the sheep. So, they had exiled her from the Ark after the Ark had come down to the ground and eleven-year-old Clarke had had to run into the forest to hide.
The Mountain Men had not been sheep. But they had been prey animals who had been treacherous enough that they clearly wished that they were not prey animals. But they had been prey animals enough for Clarke to wipe them all out by pulling a lever.
That was when the world had come to know her, truly as what she was. A tiger amongst sheep.
A dragon.
A predator.
People claimed that a sheep being raised amongst wolves was lonely and sad.
But it somehow felt even more lonely, being a predator amongst sheep.
Everyone feared you when that was the case.
And when that was the case, sheep and deer alike smiled at you with knives being hidden behind those prey animals' backs.
Even the Grounders were prey animals in that way.
Except for the Azgeda. The Ice Nation.
Now, them? They had been predators. When they had abducted Clarke? And Clarke had accepted that they could be her people? She had realized that she had been amongst her own species. Monsters like her. Tigers didn't live in groups, but this was the closest thing to what she could have compared it to, when she had accepted the Azgeda, despite the torture they had done to her previously.
Either way, she had always been a monster.
A monster that not even the lower predators would be able to handle. Only equally as vicious predators as her, like the Ice Nation could accept her.
And then the Avengers had arrived when Clarke had been twenty.
And she had met a tiger, like her. A tiger that lived amongst dumb sheep like Stark, Rogers, Wilson, Banner and the others.
Natasha Romanoff.
The love of Clarke Griffin's life.
Clarke had known her whole life that she had had multiple romantic partner soulmates.
But she had assumed that they would be like everyone else. That they would abandon her, as soon as they discovered that she was a predator.
And then she had met with the predatory green eyes of Natasha Romanoff.
A tiger, like Clarke.
Clarke had frozen in the branches of the tree as she had stared at Natasha.
Yes, Clarke had heard of the Black Widow before. She knew the story, as did most people.
Natasha Romanoff was a former soviet. Had been raised by a faction of Hydra, and had been a trained assassin. So, technically speaking, Clarke knew that Natasha was a predator.
But even with that knowledge, knowing that Natasha had joined the Avengers-it basically meant that Natasha was trying to be a better person. Fighting for good, hopefully. In fact, if what Clarke had heard was correct, then Natasha had always tried to do good. She had only left the people that had raised her, because she had learned that the faction she had worked for had been Hydra-part of the Nazis.
So, Natasha? While a predator-one of the big cats like a tiger, a lioness, a leopard or something like that, or big canines like a wolf or a dingo, or a bear or a boa constrictor or a shark or orca, had always tried to protect the sheep. Even though those sheep didn't deserve such protection, but Natasha tried to protect them, nonetheless.
So, then, was there anything that Clarke Griffin, an unrepentant predator could offer a noble predator like Natasha Romanoff? No, nothing.
So, she had realized that Natasha would be better off without Clarke. So, she had stayed away from SHIELD base, when she had learned that Natasha had joined the Avengers-had in fact formed it with Fury.
That had been almost five years ago.
Clarke had been taken by the Azgeda when she had been fourteen. They had brought her to their tribe in Norway. But she could have escaped them at any moment.
But she hadn't.
She had decided that they were what she deserved and that they would understand her.
She HAD, however, left Norway, had flown across the ocean-because on top of everything else, amongst her billions of powers, she could fly, and she had flown across the ocean to the Avengers, keeping an eye on Natasha occasionally, staying out of eyesight, of course.
Natasha had just started helping form the Avengers with Fury and Clint Barton.
Stark had been introduced to Natasha and Steve Rogers had woken up from his sleep in the ice and had met Fury.
That had been the first time Clarke had seen Natasha. In the diner, next to Fury, across from that ridiculous human, Tony Stark. Honestly, most humans were ridiculous to Clarke by that point.
It had taken everything Clarke had had not to crash into the diner and rip Fury apart for putting his hands on Natasha-as if she was an object. But she had held herself back, realizing that Natasha cared about Fury.
For Natasha's sake, she didn't kill Fury, tempting as it was.
The second and third time Clarke had seen Natasha, had been almost four years ago. When the Avengers had defeated Loki and the aliens that he had tried to bring to Earth to enslave it.
Clarke had learned of the threat and had gone to Trikru territory-what used to be New York City, to see if Natasha was safe.
Loki and the aliens had been defeated. Clint Barton, one of Clarke's familial soulmates, had been freed from Loki's control over him, and Natasha had been perfectly safe. A bit bruised up, but safe.
It had angered Clarke that she hadn't been there, so she had gone back a few more times to make sure that Natasha continued to be safe.
That asswipe, Loki had been taken to Asgard as a prisoner by Thor, and so that had been that.
But Clarke had kept checking on Natasha. And Natasha thankfully remained safe.
Then a year and a half later, Natasha and the Avengers had arrived in Norway, in the Ice Nation's land.
And then Clarke's eyes had met with Natasha's.
The soulmate bond had solidified and that had been it.
Clarke had found herself completely helpless to Natasha Romanoff's presence. As soon as Natasha looked at her, she knew she would be able to do nothing, except do what Natasha said, no matter how much Clarke told herself that it was better for Natasha that Clarke had nothing to do with the redhead.
And when Natasha had reached out her hand in offering to Clarke, promising to keep Clarke warm, and Clarke had been unable to do anything except come down from the tree and take Natasha's hand and follow Natasha into the quinjet.
She was a predator.
But Natasha was a bigger predator. A human, yes, who just had the super soldier serum in her veins, that was about it-and Clarke was much stronger physically than Natasha, and was far physically more deadly than Natasha ever would be.
But Natasha, nonetheless was far more of a predator than Clarke would ever be.
She knew that now.
Natasha had been raised by other predators, like her. She had been raised by the Red Room people, by Hydra. She had been raised by predatory beasts that acted like hawks, sharks, venomous snakes, rabid dogs, and so on, who just happened to look human.
But Natasha had been a noble predator.
But a predator, nevertheless.
And Clarke, she knew that she was helpless to the predator that was Natasha Romanoff.
The worst types of predators-the most dangerous types?
Were the ones that were beautiful-so damn beautiful that they could put a sunset or a sunrise to shame. That could put the most pure red rose or sparkling ruby or emerald to shame.
Even a sky full of glistening stars, didn't compare.
Even a tiger in all its deadly beauty could compare.
Clarke didn't know if literal dragons existed, but if they did, she knew that they wouldn't be able to compare to Natasha's dark and ethereal beauty.
And then came the more deadly part of being in a relationship with a predator.
The control such a predator could have over Clarke.
Clarke had always known, the moment she had first looked at Natasha in that diner five years ago, when Natasha had been near Fury and Stark, that if she ever dared to be in a relationship with Natasha, Natasha would be the one that would have full control of the relationship, and Clarke would like it exactly like that.
She had known always that Natasha would always be the one in control of Clarke, ever since then.
Still, it hadn't prepared her for what Natasha was capable of. The domination-the heated passion and yes, the predatory looks that Clarke could feel being thrown at her by the redhead.
So, when Clarke and Natasha eventually got into a sexual relationship, it wasn't a surprise to Clarke even remotely that Natasha was the one that called all the shots and basically controlled every aspect of the bedroom.
She always made sure Clarke knew to place in boundaries, if Clarke was ever made uncomfortable.
Natasha made sure that Clarke knew to have a safe word handy, and to use it, if she ever got uncomfortable at all and needed to use her safe word.
Clarke had found that whole thing ridiculous. After all, Clarke was a predator. Dangerous. She was so, so dangerous. Powerful. Deadly.
It was like trying to have sex with a tiger or a Komodo dragon. Or a literal dragon.
And Clarke was incredibly dangerous. She could throw Natasha across the room if she wanted to. She never would hurt Natasha, so she wouldn't do that, but she was certainly strong enough to do that.
But Natasha emphasized still, even when she knew that, that Clarke could always use her safe word and Natasha would stop.
Clarke didn't need to drink Natasha's blood and see Natasha's memories or see her integrity, to know that Natasha meant her words and would indeed stop as soon as Clarke said the safe word.
She knew Natasha would stop-she meant her words.
Natasha was a predator, but she was one of the more noble predators. And would stop as soon as Clarke put her boundaries in.
But Clarke hardly ever used her safe words. Ever.
Because holy shit, she felt too much pleasure at being dominated by the dangerous woman in bed with her.
In present day, twenty-three-year-old Clarke Griffin allowed herself to have her arms bound above her head with soft, dark red satin, on her knees on the bed, facing the wall, naked, and her head down, as was commanded of her by her dom.
Clarke had multiple romantic partner soulmates.
Many of them were dominant, and Clarke preferred it that way. She loved that.
She had had sex with a good portion of them. They had dominated her.
But Natasha? She was in a league of her own.
Natasha positioned herself behind Clarke, her lips pressing against Clarke's bare back, tongue darting out and licking the top of Clarke's spine. Natasha placed her strong, powerful hands on Clarke's hips and said in a commanding voice, right hand lowering itself till her fingers brushed against Clarke's clit, causing Clarke's hips to buck forward, crying out, "Now, then, devushka, you know what to call me to get what you want."
Clarke whimpered, body trembling with Natasha's fingers brushing against her clit.
"You know what to call me, don't you, malen'kiy?" Natasha purred and Clarke nodded, whimpering.
"Yes," Clarke said quietly, "Yes, mommy."
Clarke shivered, practically feeling Natasha smile predatorily.
"Good girl," Natasha said.
Clarke then heard something that almost made her cum right there. She heard Natasha unzip her leather pants.
Clarke almost cursed in her desire. Natasha had a toy under her clothing. A strap-on under her pants. And she was about to fuck Clarke with it.
Clarke tried to control herself from orgasming.
She heard Natasha push down her pants and Natasha grabbed Clarke's hips, pushed Clarke's body up and Clarke could practically feel Natasha take aim, and felt tip of Natasha's thick, silicon fake cock align with Clarke's cunt, and Clarke moaned as Natasha purred against Clarke's right ear, "Now, then, malyshka, are you ready for mommy to fuck your little cunt?"
Clarke whimpered and nodded. "Yes, mommy," she gasped, "I'm ready for you to fuck my cunt. Please."
Clarke could feel Natasha's predatory smile against her ear and she heard Natasha purr again, "Good girl."
She then felt Natasha thrust into her, silicon cock burying deep inside her.
Clarke groaned, lying back against Natasha's chest, her head against Natasha's left shoulder, eyes darting down as she felt Natasha thrust up into her over and over again, moaning at the sight of Natasha's strap-on buckled to the redhead's pelvis, the other half of the toy buried in the redhead's cunt.
Clarke loved this. Loved how Natasha took her pleasure, as well as Natasha took her. Dominated her in every aspect, sexually.
As Natasha thrust her strap-on into Clarke brutally, groaning as the other half of it rubbed against her clit, her hands went down between Clarke's legs, her right set of fingers rubbed Clarke's clit, rubbing the younger woman off.
Her other arm wrapped around Clarke's right side, her hand pressing against Clarke's stomach gently.
Clarke screamed as Natasha gave one particularly powerful thrust into Clarke's cunt, hips bucking up into Clarke hard, her hand and cock rubbing Clarke's clit at the same time. Clarke's eyes rolled up into her head, moaning for a long, long time as Natasha ravaged her.
Natasha was a more dominant, controlling predator-and Clarke loved her for it. Natasha was a predator, and Clarke was more than happy to be devoured by her at any time.
Thrusting up into her little girl, Natasha smirked down at Clarke, her own dark grunts coming out as the toy inside her cunt thrust against her own clit, as she manipulated Clarke's body perfectly.
Natasha knew how Clarke saw her.
She knew that Clarke saw her as a predator. And she was right to.
Natasha knew Clarke. Knew her darling little girl so, so well.
Natasha grinned, thrusting harder into Clarke, Clarke's cries music to Natasha's ears, as her hand stroked Clarke's clit.
Natasha purred against Clarke with every brutal ministration she put forth, spilling into Clarke, making Clarke writhe and scream, "That's right, moya malen'kiy drakon, scream for me. Scream for mommy."
Natasha thrust up harder into her prey, fingers working harder against Clarke's clitoris, pleasure running through her both from the toy inside her cunt and working her own clit, as well as hearing her prey scream.
Clarke cried out as she and Natasha merged as Natasha fucked her harder and harder.
As Clarke was consumed by her predator, and Natasha practically railed her prey, they both moaned together as pleasure hit them at the same time and they cried out together.
Author's note
I think "moya malen'kiy drakon," means "my little dragon," but I probably butchered that.
Takes place before Age of Ultron.
Oh, and this is early on in the relationship-I edited, because I realized it takes place earlier and got the age of Clarke wrong in the initial story. So, it's earlier in the relationship, which is why I wrote Clarke to be a bit more ornery than usual.