natasha had to keep reminding herself—

it's only for practice, it's only for practice...

you were able to slam natasha into the sparring mat over and over again. and everyone knew (including yourself); natasha hated losing.

you, yourself were currently leaning on her, pressing your total weight onto her side. she laid on her side, face squishing against the floor. her face grew red from anger and fatigue, but she bit her tongue; not wanting to admit defeat.

flicking your hair back, you licked your lips as your grip tightening around her wrist and ankle. ❝you gonna tap out yet? you give up?❞

natasha jerked, trying to get out of your hold, but you were able to keep her on the ground. she spat out several russain curses—some you were able to understand—before puffing out a steam out air. ❝fine! you win. you happy?❞