⁺₊☽𝖓𝖊𝖑𝖘☾⁺💋

Merry Christmas!! ⊹♡

Since the moment you met, you knew Natasha carried a storm inside her. It was always tamed, hiding just beneath the surface of her eyes. But, from a year of friendship, you’ve noticed that storm that seemed to erupt around this time of the year. Being your only friend, she was always the one to accompany you on your trips out around the city. It’s there where you noticed the way she flinched at carols and avoided the cheerful chaos of Christmas markets you brought her too, by moving through it as fast as she can. The world’s merriment seemed to mock her darker memories. She confessed one night, in a rare moment of vulnerability and a very expensive bottle of wine, that Christmas had always been a painful time for her. Her voice, usually steady and unwavering, softened as she looked at you across the table. She told you about her sister, Yelena—the only person in her family who had ever truly cared about Christmas. Yelena had been the kind of person who could find joy even in the bleakest of places, someone who refused to let the world’s coldness harden her heart.

“She loved it,” Natasha said, her lips curling into a wistful smile as if she could still see Yelena bustling around their childhood home. “The lights, the snow, the decorations. She’d drag me into whatever shop she could find, looking for things to make the house even more festive. Ornaments, candles, the cheesiest, most stupid Santa hats—whatever she could get her hands on.” She paused, her gaze unfocused as though she were looking back through the years.

Yelena had been the one to make Christmas feel like magic. She knew all of the Christmas carols, singing along even if the notes were slightly off-key. This joy followed her into her adulthood, and even when she became sick. Every year, she insisted on stringing up lights around their shared apartment —“even if we don’t have a tree, Natasha, we’ll have lights. You know it’s all about the glow.” She was fearless, mischievous, and relentlessly stubborn in her belief that joy was worth chasing, even if it didn’t come easy. “She’d bake,” Natasha continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Not well obviously— she couldn’t stand for long at the point. Plus, her cookies had always been terrible—but she didn’t care. She’d make a mess everywhere and laugh at herself, daring me to do better. I never tried, though. I always just watched her and took her to bed whenever she was done.” Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass, her knuckles whitening slightly. “She believed in traditions, even when there was no reason to. Especially when there was no reason to,” she added, “she said traditions gave people hope, something to hold on to in the dark. I didn’t get it then—I still don’t fully— but with time, I understood she was trying to help me be okay with the world when she was no longer around.”

Yelena had been more than just a younger sister to Natasha —she had been her tether, her mirror, her light. She was the last person left of her family, and the only one who ever made Natasha feel things she often tried to ignore: a steady warmth, a strong connection, the possibility of life being worth more. She was everything Natasha wish she could be.

And when Yelena died, Christmas died with her.

“There was no one to care about it anymore,” Natasha said, her voice breaking for the briefest of moments before she pushed the emotion back behind her walls, blinking her tears away. “No one to make it mean anything.” You reached across the table, placing your hand over hers. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t meet your eyes either. For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the air between you thick. “She would’ve liked you,” she murmured after a while, her voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “Yelena… she always liked people who made things feel… safe.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of her words settling deep in your heart. You realised, in that moment, just how much Natasha trusted you—how much she had given you by sharing this piece of herself. From that moment, you made a promise to yourself: a promise to return Yelena’s light back into her life.

⊹♡

One morning, you found yourself lost on a tree farm. Rows upon rows of evergreens stretched out like soldiers in formation, their frosted branches from the night before glistening in the morning sun. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound for a moment. Natasha walked beside you, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her coat, her eyes on swivel but not necessarily looking at the trees. She hadn’t said much since you picked her up that morning, you weren’t entirely sure if it was the early start or the occasion that silenced her.

“This one’s nice.” You said, gesturing to a stately Fraser fir with almost symmetrical branches. She stopped, gave the tree a quick once-over, and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, moving along until you could find the next one. You had planned on finding a tree that you both could put up at her place, but with each step, it seemed like this tree would be better suited living at yours. You tried again. “What about this one?” You pointed to a taller tree, its branches also slightly uneven but full of character. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I guess. If you like it.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t inviting either. You let out a small breath, watching it cloud in front of you before dissipating into the icy air.

“No, we can keep looking.”

Laughter and the occasional clatter of a fallen tree echoed through the air. You couldn’t see them mostly but could imagine families adorned in colourful hats and scarves scattered across the farm. Natasha, however, didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes back to skimming over the trees with a detached disinterest and her surroundings, her mouth set in a way that told you she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Do you want to go home? You asked gently.

She paused, her head tilting slightly as if weighing whether to respond. “You wanted a tree,” she said finally, her voice even. “So we’re getting a tree.”

“It’s not that important.” You said. “If you’re not into it, we can go.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m fine.” She said, her voice clipped. Then, softer: “Let’s just look over there.”

You didn’t press her further.

The two of you wandered deeper into the farm, the trees becoming denser, their branches heavy with snow. You found yourself wondering if Natasha even saw them, her eyes not even bothering with her environment anymore as she kept her head down towards the snow, her mind clearly somewhere far away. “How about this one?” You tried again, stopping in front of a modest blue spruce. Its branches were sturdy, the kind that could hold up heavy ornaments, and its shape was pleasingly perfect. She stopped beside you, her eyes lingering on the tree. She didn’t say anything right away, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss it like the others. But then she tilted her head, considering.

“It’s okay.” She said, and while it wasn’t glowing praise, it was a step up from fine.

“You sure?” You asked, not wanting to push.

She nodded, her gaze lingering on the tree a second longer. “Yeah. It’s fine.” She finished, before turning abruptly back in the other direction. Later, the workers secured the tree to the roof of your car, their cheerful banter filling the space as you and Natasha stood off to the side. She didn’t say much, but when you glanced over at her, you thought you saw her mouth twitch—just the faintest hint of a smile. “Thanks for letting me tag along.” She said quietly.

You offered her a small smile. “I’m glad you came.”

⊹♡

Snow finally began to settle permanently in the middle of December. It clung to the rooftops and frosted the tree branches outside your apartment. Winter had truly arrived. You hadn’t seen Natasha since that morning; her work had whisked her off to the West Coast for an urgent business trip, leaving you to decorate the tree in your tiny apartment alone. Your living room was silent except for the soft hum of a holiday playlist you’d set to shuffle, but you were used to the lingering echo since moving in.

You missed her terribly.

Without Natasha here, you were unable to focus on anything but yourself: your terrible breakup last Christmas that had you packing your bags and running away to a different state, your argument with your family that had been the last time you’d spoken to them and the reason why you weren’t invited home this year, your sadness that crept up whenever you were forced to sit in silence with yourself. Deep down, you know she could see through you, could see how you suffered much like she did. It’s why you both clicked together instantly. But the difference with Natasha is that she never pried, never pushed you to talk about what you weren’t ready to say. And it wasn’t like you wanted to dwell on these things, but they lived inside you now, demanding attention in the silence.

Your ignorance was bliss, until it wasn’t.

And days when Natasha went away were the worst.

The doorbell rang at a late hour. Behind it stood Natasha, her coat dusted with fresh snow, her cheeks flushed pink from the nipping cold. She looked exhausted, her carry-on slung over one shoulder and her laptop bag in the other.

“You’re back?” You blurted out, wondering why she was here and not at her own place. It was Wednesday after all.

“I wanted to see you.” She admitted, shuffling awkwardly at her confession.

You pulled her through the door, allowing her a second to set her bags down with a tired sigh, her shoulders finally dropping as the door clicked shut behind her. “How was the trip?” You asked as you moved toward the kitchen, already reaching for the kettle and her mug.

“Exhausting.” She replied, shedding her snow-damp coat and draping it over the back of the chair. “And frustrating. Clients were indecisive, as usual, and the meetings went in circles half the time.”

You gave her a sympathetic look as you handed her a steaming mug of tea. “At least now you’re done for the holidays, right?”

She hummed in agreement, her fingers wrapping gratefully around the warmth of the cup. Despite the drink, you noticed her shiver and disappeared into your bedroom. You rummaged through your drawers, pulling out an oversized purple sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants.

When you handed them to her, she raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re not sitting around in wet clothes, Natasha.” You cut her off, gesturing toward the bathroom. “Go change.”

By the time she emerged, looking infinitely more comfortable in your clothes, you had noticed the snow starting to pick up outside. Large flakes swirled under the glow of the streetlamps, a storm intensifying.

Perfect weather for what you had planned.

You grabbed a spare hat and scarf from the coat rack, along with a pair of gloves, and tossed them at her.

“What’s this?” Natasha asked, catching the items with a puzzled expression.

“We’re going out.”

“Out? In this weather?”

You were already pulling on your own coat and boots, ignoring her protests. “Yes, out. You’ve been cooped up in airports and meeting rooms for weeks. You need this.”

“I need sleep.” She muttered, but she already had her coat, reaching for the hat, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to smile.

“Come on. You urged, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the door.

The streetlights cast a warm golden glow on the fresh blanket of snow, and for a moment, she hesitated. Her reluctant smile cracked through the guarded exterior she so often wore when you were outside. It was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Looking down at her watch, she noticed the time read 1am. “Oh my God, it’s the middle of the night,” she moaned, shaking her head, “and it’s freezing!”

“You’re Russian.” You deadpanned. “Aren’t you genetically programmed to thrive in this?”

She shot you a withering look, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

She turned back around towards your building but before she could move any further, the first snowball struck her shoulder with a soft thwump. She froze, blinking in disbelief. You stood a few feet away, grinning triumphantly, the remnants of the snowball crumbling in your hand. She swung back around, her eyes narrowed, lips parted in exaggerated shock. “Oh, so that’s how it is? These are your clothes you know!” Before you could reply, she bent down, scooped up snow, and hurled it at you. It hit squarely on your chest, the icy cold seeping through your coat.

“Hey!” You yelped, laughing.

“You started this!” She shot back, her voice light—playful in a way you rarely heard.

And then it was war. Snowballs flew in all directions, and the street filled with your laughter, echoing off the quiet houses. Natasha’s aim was deadly accurate, and you were sure she was holding back for your sake. It was quite pathetic. At one point, she feigned defeat only to pounce on you with a pile of snow that left you sputtering.

“You’re a cheat!” You gasped, brushing snow off your face.

“And you’re slow!” She quipped, already forming another snowball to smush in your face.

The cold stung your nose and turned your cheeks raw, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the way Natasha laughed—real and unrestrained, her head thrown back, the sound almost musical in the still night. It was the kind of laugh that felt like a gift, something rare and precious, and you never wanted it to end. Finally, both of you collapsed onto the snow, breathless and flushed. The stars peeked through the gaps in the clouds, and the world seemed impossibly quiet, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Natasha’s head rested on your shoulder, her knitted beanie (that actually belonged to you) slightly askew. “Okay,” she said between gasps, “I admit—that was fun.”

“You’re so welcome.” You teased, shifting to look at her.

“But that’s only because I beat your ass.”

She looked so beautiful in this moment. Her cheeks were rosy, the same shade as her damp hair where stray snowflakes had melted. She was at peace—something you wish you saw more of. You brushed a gloved hand against her cheek, then leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her icy forehead, unable to stop yourself.

“You were right. You’re freezing.” You murmured.

“Maybe.” She replied, her smile small. She shifted closer, laying her head on top of yours. “But I don’t mind.”

⊹♡

With both you and Natasha no longer at work, meant she could hang out with you more often. It was late one evening —you both had spent the day inside your apartment doing absolutely —when she insisted on a walk, claiming the air was getting "stuffy," though you suspected she just needed an excuse to stretch her legs.

Somehow, you had ended up in the suburbs in New Jersey.

“You know, this is kind of perfect.” She said, glancing over at you with a small smile. “No one’s out right now.” You laughed softly, the warmth of her gaze doing more to fight the chill than the layers you’d bundled yourself into. “Yes, well, the suburbs In Jersey are surprisingly magical when nobody’s around.” You joked, sarcasm evident, as you nodded toward the rows of houses strung with twinkling lights. It felt like something out of a postcard, the kind of scene you’d only read about.

The two of you turned a corner and were met with the soft harmony of voices carried on the wind. A group of carolers stood in front of a house, lanterns glowing in their hands as they sang “Silent Night.” Natasha paused, her steps slowing as she tilted her head to listen. Her expression softened, a rare kind of calm washing over her features.

“You don’t strike me as the caroling type.” You teased, bumping her shoulder lightly.

“I’m not.” She admitted, though her lips curved into a grin. “But... it’s nice, isn’t it? Peaceful.”

It was odd. This was the first time you’d seen Natasha act normal with the idea of Christmas.

“They make it look so easy.” She said after a while, her voice quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“They make it look easy believing in... I don’t know. The magic of it all.” She added, as her brow furrowed.

You turned to look at her, the soft glow of the carolers’ lanterns catching in her green eyes. “Maybe it’s not about believing.” You said after a moment. “Maybe it’s just about... letting yourself feel it. Even if it hurts, let yourself feel all of it.”

She stood quietly for a beat before adding, “Yelena loved this song.”

You stayed silent, letting the moment slip away as she became lost in the tune. Natasha's expression contorted with pain as the song finished and the group moved on, but made no move to leave. Without hesitation, you clasped her hand tightly, guiding her away and back in the direction of the city.

You both walked in silence the entire way home.

⊹♡

The next time you saw Natasha was the following weekend when she came over for a sleepover. You could tell the temperature had dropped even more just by the state you found her in at your door. You could only see her eyes. She was wearing your beanie again, with a scarf wound tightly around her neck and the exposed parts of her face. She carried a mismatched tote bag that practically bursted at the seams, the telltale sign of someone who couldn’t quite decide what to pack.

She’d never slept over before.

Well, purposely.

Later that night, in the cozy warmth of your kitchen, you began pulling out ingredients for gingerbread cookies, demanding the taller woman come stand beside you once her ‘bones were warm enough.’ Natasha remained perched on a stool, her favourite mug clasped in her hands, watching you with a raised eyebrow and a half-smirk.

"Our first sleepover. And you’re putting me to work? At this hour? I almost died coming over to see you.” She teased, glancing at the clock.

It’s nearly midnight.

"It’s time for midnight gingerbread.” You replied, beaming as you tied an apron around your waist. "It’s a tradition now."

Now?" She echoed, laughing. "This is literally the first time we’re doing this."

"Exactly, that’s how traditions start."

Natasha rolled her eyes but hopped off the stool to join you, muttering under her breath about wishing she had froze to death on the way over before tugging at your apron strings like a mischievous child, pushing you slightly away from your spot so she could fill it.

“Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The process was chaotic from the start. Natasha’s never baked before, and it showed. The first mishap happened when she cracked an egg with a little too much enthusiasm, sending yolk sliding across the counter. And from then, she managed to do nothing correct without your assistance. You were halfway through laughing when she retaliated by flicking a bit of flour at your cheek.

"Did you just—"

Before you could finish, she grinned devilish and dropped more flour over your head, “oh no, looks like you’ve got a little something there.”

Again, the process was chaotic.

Precision measuring gave way to messy improvisation as flour flew through the air in clouds of white. Natasha was unrelenting, chasing you around the island with a bag of powdered sugar like it’s a weapon. By the time you called a truce, the counters, the floor, and both of you were completely dusted with flour. "You look ridiculous.” You said, laughing so hard your sides ached. She wiped a streak of flour off her nose and smeared it onto your shirt. “Speak for yourself. You look like you’ve never seen the sun before.”

When you finally managed to clean up enough to resume baking, Natasha was benched to mixing the dough— far far away from the flour— but it took her all of ten seconds to abandon the spatula and dig in with her hands. “Are you sure this is hygienic?” She asked, grinning as she squished the dough between her fingers like it’s Play-Doh.

You’re pretty sure she doesn’t know what Play-Doh is.

"Absolutely not.” You replied, shaking your head. But neither of you cared. Somehow, The batter never even made it to the oven. After a mutual taste test—"for quality control," Natasha insisted upon —you realised you (she) had eaten most of it. "So, we’re out of ingredients." You admitted, licking a stray smear of molasses from your thumb. Natasha plopped down on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets with a satisfied sigh. “Good.” She said, licking a bit of dough off her finger. “The batter’s better anyway.” You sat beside her, the warmth of the oven lingering even though you never used it. The kitchen was a mess, the cookies a total failure, but none of it mattered.

You both fell asleep that night with the biggest smiles on your face.

⊹♡

Natasha ended up staying the next weekend too. Christmas fell on a Sunday, the big day seemed to sneak up on both of you, but for now, it was Christmas Eve, and the night stretched on, timeless and unhurried. After watching a few Christmas movies, the two of you found yourselves curled up in front of your fireplace — the fireplace being a YouTube video on loop coming from your television. The crackling flames painted your surroundings in shifting shadows, the room bathed in a burnt orange haze that made everything feel a little softer, a little more intimate. Natasha’s arms were wrapped securely around you, her presence grounding and warm. You hummed an old carol you heard once before under your breath, a lullaby that filled the quiet. Her hand traced lazy circles on your back, her fingers light but steady, as though she was trying to etch the moment into her memory. You watched her, unable to help yourself. The way the firelight kissed her skin, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the peace in her expression— how rare it was to see her like this. Truly at ease. Vulnerable, but not guarded. You wanted to hold this moment forever, to preserve it for her in the way she deserved, and selfishly for yourself.

Falling for Natasha wasn’t difficult. From the beginning of the friendship, there was a constant undercurrent, a slow burn that never fully ignited, yet refused to fade. You fell in love with her so suddenly—in the quiet moments—that you couldn’t figure out when she became more to you than just a friend. Or if she was ever just that. And over the past year, you’d learned there was so much more to her than the cold, unyielding exterior she presented to the world. No one loved as much as she did. And now, as you sat basically on her lap, the space between both impossibly vast and unbearably close, you realised that falling for Natasha wasn’t just easy—it was inevitable.

“This is what Christmas is supposed to feel like.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, like a thought she hadn’t meant to say aloud. As if she didn’t want to disturb the silence. Her gaze was distant, yet there was a softness in her tone that made your chest burn. You hesitated, the words catching in your throat before they could fully form. “You miss her.” You finally said. It wasn’t quite a question, but Natasha understood. Her eyes flickered to yours, that same vulnerability reflecting through. “I always miss her.” She admitted, her voice even quieter now, almost fragile. She didn’t need to say Yelena’s name; you knew. “It’s strange… even after all these years, I still expect her to be here sometimes. Like she’ll just walk in, scolding me for not keeping the lights on all day or dragging me out of the house to help on her latest conquest.”

Your heart cried out with something deep and tender, the kind of feeling no words could ever quite capture. “I’ve got something for you.” She looked at you, her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity as you stood and walked to the Christmas tree. From beneath its branches, you retrieved a small, carefully wrapped box and brought it back to her—one of many gifts you’ve bought for her. “This was supposed to be for tomorrow,” you said, sitting down beside her again, “but I think it’ll mean more tonight.” She took the gift, her fingers brushing against yours briefly before she began unwrapping it. Beneath the paper was a small music box, its pearl-coloured sides adorned with golden, intricate carvings. She opened the lid, revealing a tiny engraving inside: the words “My Light” in Russian reside underneath a picture of Yelena in her youth, dressed as an angel for a school nativity play, her beaming smile radiant and full of life.

Natasha’s breath caught, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the edges of the engraving. “How did you—” she began, her voice breaking.

“You have to twist the key, Nat.” You said softly, closing the lid of the box.

She turned the key, the lid opening to reveal her younger sister all over again; as the music box began to play a gentle melody. But it wasn’t just music—it was a recording, faint but unmistakable hidden under the notes. The sound of Yelena’s voice filled the room, singing “Silent Night” with all the enthusiasm a child could muster for the slow song. Natasha’s hand flew to her mouth, and tears streamed freely down her face as the recording picked up another voice. It was quieter, steadier, but unmistakably hers. A younger version of her sang along with Yelena, their voices blending, only broken by their shared giggles as they sang together, sometimes stumbling over the lyrics. Her shoulders shook as she listened, and you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. She clung to you, her face buried against your neck, her tears damp against your skin, as sobs rocked her slender frame. You held her tightly, wishing you could somehow ease the weight of her grief and the bittersweet joy of this moment.

Her lips trembled as she tried to form words in the broke of your neck. “This…this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I don’t even know how you did this—” She pulled away from you to glance back at the music box, her fingers delicately tracing the engraved picture of Yelena. “She was my everything. The only good thing I had for so long – moya sestra (my sister), moy malen'kiy svet (my little light.)”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “I know. And now you have her again, even if it’s just a little piece.” Natasha set the music box down carefully, as though it were made of glass. She leaned forward, confident in her actions, in her love for you—a soft kiss pressed to your lips.

She had never kissed you before.

She wanted to again.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

You leaned in, kissing her once again, the taste of salt comforting. “You deserve everything good in this world,” you said softly, stroking the remnants of her tears, “and you deserve love, Nat. I’ll promise I’ll remind you of that every day.”

You placed a delicate hand over her heart and spoke, “I see you. And in this light of yours, I see her.”

She kissed you again, softer and longer than the last, her lips brushing yours; fuelled behind every emotion, every feeling, every part of her heart that now belonged to you, “Thank you for giving her back to me.”

You smiled softly, brushing a stray red curl away from her face. "I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering, for as long as I can. To remind you there’s always light to find, even in the darkest nights."

She leaned in, resting her forehead gently against yours. "You already have."

You smiled, brushing a stray red curl from her face. “I promise to make every Christmas something worth remembering for as long as I can. And to remind you of her light. With you. With Yelena.”

She leaned in, her forehead pressing gently against yours. “You already have.”

The bar within the Avengers compound is filled with energy, guys relaxing after the latest mission, the girls dancing and laughing together as they order another round of shots. You make your way towards the pool table, needing to unwind in your own way and not having been with them long enough to make some actual friends. You relax a little as you make it to the table in the corner, away from the crowds, getting ready to line up your first shot before you hear a certain redhead appear behind you.

„Need some help with that, newbie?“ she teases and you turn to face her, noticing her piercing green eyes on you almost instantly. Natasha leans against the nearest wall casually, her smirk sharp as her eyes travel up and down your body.

„I think I have got it“ you reply, trying to keep your voice steady and ignore the way the redhead made you feel. For weeks she had been teasing you, small remarks but never enough time to let the conversation go further as some type of Avenger emergency almost always kept you from exploring this further. And you couldn‘t help the way the Black Widow made you feel with her gaze, the sublte biting of her lip mid conversation.

Natasha strolls over casually but nothing about her posture is casual, calculated and confident as she stands behind you. „You‘ve got potential sure, but there is always room for improvement“ she teases, swallowing hard as you feel the heat of her body against your own. „Oh and you are the expert?“ you tease, trying hard to keep your composure and stop your body from reacting, knowing it was only going to give her satisfaction.

Her lips form into a grin at your words „I‘ve been known to handle a stick or two in my life“ she laughs but before you can respond, her hands slide over yours, adjusting your grip on the cue. She presses in closer, her breath warm against your ear „Relax your shoulders“ she instructs, her voice filled with authority as she tells you that you are far too tense.

It was impossible not to notice how her chest brushed against your back, the solid weight of her body keeping you grounded and flustered all at once. „Like this?“ you ask, though your voice betrays you. „Almost, you gotta focus on the ball and not the distractions“ she tells you as you feel her body shift closer, her hands on you for just a moment too long. „Though I can tell why you are distracted“ she teases with a smirk as she moves back, giving you the space to shoot your shot.

You glance over your shoulder, your cheeks burning as you whisper „Do you flirt with all of your students?“ you tease, causing a low chuckle to escape her. She leans back just enough to let her eyes roam over you fully „No“ she shrugs casually before she carries on „Just the ones I can‘t stop thinking about“ she whispers, causing your eyes to widen and your body respond in a way it hadn‘t before.

Your breathing hitches as you try and focus back on the game but as you turn you notice the tremble in your hands. And Natasha being Natasha, of course she notices, knowing exactly what she is doing. She leans closer again before whispering „Why don‘t we make this interesting? if I win, you will let me take you out tomorrow“ she invites and your eyes widen at her statement.

„And if I win? make the shot?“ you ask meeting her gaze. „You won‘t darling“ she chuckles, leaning her head on her hands as she balances her elbows on the table, eager to watch you shoot your first shot. „Fine“ you mutter in fake annoyance but both of you knew this excited you more than it should and so you happily accept her challenge, giving it your best shot. But of course in the end the Black Widow beats you but you didn‘t exactly mind, her promise lingering in your mind as she told you to meet her tomorrow at 8pm by the cars when you parted ways.

The day passed as slowly as it possibly could but when it‘s finally time to meet the former assassin, you couldn‘t deny the pounding in your chest and the fluttering of your stomach. Her car is already waiting for you and by the time you get inside you knew exactly you chose right for tonight, black skirt some tights and a leather jacket, knowing those were her weakness, the redhead not the only one knowing how to play this game. She tries to play it cool as she drives off, focusing on driving but you could tell she couldn‘t keep her eyes away from you and neither could you, not with the suit she is wearing the woman knowing those be your weakness even if those aren‘t usually her type of thing.

„Where are we going exactly?“ you ask as you glance at her and she chuckles before simply shrugging and telling you to be patient. The drive feels painfully slow, the anticipation slowly building between you both and if it was up to you she could go straight back, take you to her bed and finally give in to what you both clearly wanted since you joined the Avengers weeks ago. But Natasha enjoyed this game too much, seeing you squirming under her gaze, seeing how impatient you are and how this was giving her exactly the satisfaction she was after. By the time you finally pull up, you are surprised to see her pull up at a bar, slightly more fancy than the one within the compound but still not what you had in mind.

„A pool bar really?“ you tease as she walks you inside, having opened the door for you, her manners impeccable as always. „I thought I‘d beat you again but in front of total strangers this time“ she chuckles which causes you to raise your eyebrows. The Black Widow leads you inside, the place buzzing with people, music and for a moment you feel a little overwhelmed by the neon lights and crowds. And somehow the redhead can tell, swiftly leading you to one of the tables in the corner where everything is much more intimate and quiet. „So, newbie“ she begins, a teasing grin on her lips „What‘s your drink of choice?“. You think about it for a moment before looking into her eyes „Martini“ which causes her to raise an eyebrow. You lean in a little before whispering „dirty“.

A devilish smirk appears on her lips before she nods, walking over to the bar and swaying her hips more than necessary on the way over. You roll your eyes in amusement, beginning to chalk the cues before lining up the balls on the pool table. You glance around the filled place for a moment, seeing all the people dancing, drinking and playing games but for some reason the only thing your eyes travel back to is Natasha, standing at the bar with a confidence that nearly takes your breath away. Her attempts had been obvious, some of the other Avengers even teasing you about it and a part of you couldn‘t believe the Natasha Romanoff was attracted to you. After all she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Unaware that she thought the same about you, that she could see through the gaps and see how deeply you cared and just how alike you both truly are.

By the time she returns, she passes you your drink, seeing how she opted for the same choice, and you both raise your glasses for a moment before focussing your attention on the pool table. „Wanna start?“ you ask with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what the answer was going to be. She nods before she takes her first shot, of course with practices ease potting several balls and you can‘t help but feel challenged, wanting so bad to win and have the upper hand. By the time it is your next go, your nerves get the better of you, despite the intimacy of the corner table you have, barely anyone there, her eyes on you are enough to make your body tremble. Her green eyes are focused on your leather jacket, the skirt that hikes up just a little as you go on your tip toes to align your first shot. „Nervous darling?“ she teases before you shake your head in fake annoyance.

„Let me help you“ she offers but you make the shot before she can reach you, of course potting anything but your color and instead potting the white ball. She simply smirks as she begins her second go and you can‘t help the shaking of your hands or the way your heart flutters seeing her actions. „This is how you do it“ she teases, leaning forward, exposing her chest and how suddenly the top two buttons of her shirt have opened. And you knew she must have done that on her way to the bar, knowing you couldn‘t resist and keep your eyes from her. She licks her lips seductively before she takes her next shot and leaves you trembling. Your shaky legs barely make it to the table and this time you allow her to move behind you, guide her hands over yours and you can‘t help but feel how they fit so perfectly in your own. „Like this“ she encourages and you can‘t help but turn your head and glance at her, seeing her signature red lipstick so close to your own lips and feeling the desire to capture them in a kiss.

But instead you focus your attention back on your shot, actually doing well this time and potting several balls of your color. The two of you continue this game for a while longer until the heat of the situation gets to you and you take off your leather jacket, exposing the somewhat see through top exposing your bralette. You miss the way her eyes lingered, how she stepped behind you again, her breath hot on your ears. But this time as she steps behind you, you feel something different, the tip of something pressing against your back. And suddenly the world stops for a moment as you take a step back. „I need to- I‘m gonna use the bathroom“ you excuse yourself, leaving Natasha behind, a flustered mess as she watches you go.

You desperately needed air. And thankfully the bathroom is empty, giving you a moment to splash some cold water on your face. Just as you are about to step into one of the stalls however, wanting to close the door, a firm hand keeps you from closing it and you see Natasha standing there, the neon lights exposing her flustered and needy features. „Did I make you uncomfortable detka?“ she questions, her voice smooth as you shake your head. „Can I?“ she asks politely and you let her step inside as she locks the door behind you both. „Nat, are you.. wearing a strap?“ you ask a bit confused before a low chuckle errupts around you. „You didn‘t know?“ she asks almost in surprise and you shake your head when the pieces fall into place.

„The question is.. do you mind?“ she asks, this time there being something raw in her voice and features, almost as if your consent matters more to her than this whole game, than her or your own desire. „No“ and when the word comes out, almost a low moan, her pupils blow as she leans in, capturing your lips in a fiery kiss that leave you gasping for breath. „Tell me what you want“ she moans in between the kiss and you can‘t help the way your body betrays you as she slams you into the nearest wall. „You“ you breathe out, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Her hands cup your cheeks as she leans in further and this time you have her gasping for breath as you fumble with the zipper and buttons of her trousers. Almost with ease you drop to your knees in front of her, admiring the view as you pull her boxers down, exposing her hard cock and you almost gasp at the size of it, causing the woman to chuckle lowly.

One look for approval is enough on both of your parts before you take her hardened cock into your mouth with ease. Natasha tries hard to keep her composure, to keep her dominance but your experienced tongue, having you on your knees like this is making it impossible. She can‘t help but moan as she grips your hair, guiding you despite the perfect job you are doing. „God detka“ she breathes out and you try hard to supress a gag, not expecting her size at all when finding out about this moments ago. Despite it all, seeing her so perfectly above you, forcing her eyes shut as the tries hard not to cum inside you.

You enjoy this far more than you should and with a loud pop you let go off her cock, leaving her dripping with pre cum and a shaking mess. She stares at you in disbelief as you adjust your hair and clothes, kissing her cheek before whispering „Want more of this? take me home“. Her pupils blow yet again as she smirks, getting herself dressed again before she takes you away, hastily paying the bill before grabbing you and your things and leading you to the car. She is quick to zoom through the night sky, getting you both back to the compound. It takes everything not to take you right there in the car, in the elevator as you look at her with those eyes. The former assassin practically drags you into her room before she completely loses her composure, pushing you against the wall as she rips your clothing off, leaving you in the dark red lingerie you had chosen for tonight.

„God you‘re perfect“ she moans as she presses her lips onto yours again, stumbling to her bed as she throws you down, attacking your lips and neck as she hungrily hovers above you. „Take me Tasha“ you whisper and if your actions and words hadn‘t proven her that you are perfect beyond her imagination they definitely have now. She fumbles with her own clothes, quickly ridding herself of the suit before her mouth hungrily explores your body, starting with your neck, your perfect breasts as she takes them into her mouth, giving you a taste of what‘s to come soon. You are a panting mess as she draws out the sweetest noises from you, balancing on her knees as she finally gets to where you want her the most. She can‘t help but smirk as she meets your glistening core, keeping eye contact as she lowers herself and begins licking through your folds, collecting your juices with ease.

She can tell just from her tongue that you are close and when she enters you for a moment, she can feel how tight you are already, so ready and eager to be pleased by her. „Please“ you whine as she kisses your lips, letting you taste your arousal on her mouth. „Please what?“ she teases as she reaches for something on her table besides bed. „Fuck me Nat“ you moan but when you see her fumble with the condom packet you can‘t help but take it and throw it across the room. „Fuck that, I want you“ you pant and her eyebrows raise in surprise, not having imagined you to be nearly as dirty as this. She wastes no time in kneeling in front of you again, opening your legs as you spread them for her perfectly. She carefully aligns herself as she meets your eyes one more time for consent.

And the second her hardened cock enters you, you are both done for. She fills you up with ease, giving you time to adjust before she fully sinks into you. Natasha begins slowly, almost too sensual for your liking as all you want her to do is pound you senseless. And the older woman can tell, by the way your hips are wiggling, your mouth slightly ajar and your eyes fixed on her own. „More.. fuck.. me like you mean it“ you moan and thats all Natasha needed, seeing your boobs bounce, your hips bucking and your eyes forcing shut as she begins pounding into you at a ruthless pace. „I have wanted to do this so long detka“ she moans as she feels your wall soak her up so perfectly, so tight and ready for her already.

„Tasha“ you moan, incoherent noises and words falling from your lips as she fucks you like you had never been fucked before. Throughout her ruthless pace and own desire, she still takes the time to caress your body, as if you are the most sensible thing on this planet. She can‘t help but smirk all while squeezing her own eyes shut, trying not to cum too fast. „I need more“ you mumble as you throw your head to the side, fisting the sheets as she fills you up so well. And of course Natasha obliges, raising your leg and leaning it against her shoulder, the new position allowing her to pound into you even faster and harder than before. The moment the position changes she hits your sweet spot over and over again, causing tears of pure bliss to fill your eyes.

„I‘m gonna cum“ you somehow pant but as she stills her movements your eyes practically rip open, needing her so bad. „I can‘t hold it“ she admits but you don‘t care, moving your leg and pulling her right on top of you all while she is still inside you. Your legs wrap around her back as you look into her eyes. „Fill me up, I don‘t care“ you pant and that was the moment Natasha knew you are the one, so perfect, so obedient and so damn filfthy. She fucks into you at a ruthless pace and mere seconds later you feel her juices filling you to the brim. „Nat“ you pant uncontrollably as you try coming down from your high, her body on top of yours and mere chests touching causing you to suddenly shiver under the intensity of it all. „Breathe detka“ she instructs, your features bright red as she wipes some sweat from your forehead.

She heard the passenger door slam shut when you entered on your goddamn phone like always. "I thought the driver was gonna pick me up" She scoffed, and asked himself if school uniforms always looked so... slutty "Gotta take up with me" She murmured watching you from the corner of her eye, she knew you why your last bodyguard was fired and it was getting harder by the minute not to step in his footsteps 

You didn’t honour her another glance as you stared into the passing trees and cars which flashed by your eyes as he drove down the streets. Which greatly annoyed Natasha, you weren’t supposed to ignore her like that, like she didn’t even exist to you. She wanted you to look at her with those big doe eyes, while you begged her for more. 

“You’re just gonna stare out the window like that?” Natasha scoffed but still got no reaction from you. “Take that damn things out-“ She reached over and before you could even register she had pulled it out your ear, throwing it in the backseat. 

“They were expensive” you snapped “I don’t fucking care now stop throwing a damn tantrum and relax” She murmured out her knuckles turning white by how hard she was gripping the damn wheel. How she would love to fuck that damn attitude out of you. “Dick” I mumbled under your breath just quite enough for Natasha to overhear. 

“You’re just gonna sit here and pout like a brat?” She asked, not getting an answer from you. “If you behave like one maybe I should just lay you over my knee and give you what brats deserve” She spat and you could clearly see the anger in her eyes. 

“Oh kinky” Your voice was addictive as you teased the older woman “Ist that an invitation?” You could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she was thinking what to make of that statement. 

Without another word she pulled into an empty park deck and searched for the most desolate place in it. When the engine shut off the room was filled with uncomfortable silence. “Get your damn ass in the back I’m teaching you a lesson” She murmured and you listened. 

She put you over her lap, her hands massaging the flesh of your ass. “You’re such a damn brat” Natasha had to laugh “A damn slut too. Oh what would your dear old man say if he saw you like that” She teased knowing her words would get you. 

But you could only whimper when her hands hitched your skirt up to reveal some pretty pink panties. “I’m sorry” You whined hoping she’d go easy on you now “You’re only sorry because I called you out on your bullshit” 

“You’re gonna count each spank, understood” Natasha asked, her voice filled with mockery. You nodded fast to get it over with in hopes she would  maybe touch you more sensually after. The first slap was almost careful to test water with you, but it still made you yelp. “O- one” you stuttered gripping her leg harder. 

Another smack this time harder “two” She had to smile at your desperate sounds “You’re so cute making those sounds I almost have pity for you” She smirked and you heard how she was savoring this moment. It was satisfying to finally show your place. She adjusted your panties over your cheeks again, her hands cold against your hot flesh. “Such a pretty girl” She cooed, reaching out for your hair to pull your head up “You're a pretty girl isn’t that right?” You moaned out at the word feeling your panties starting to wet “I’m your pretty girl”

By the tenth smack she had brought you to tears, your massacre running down your cheeks and it made Natasha just all the more desperate for a taste. “Learned your lesson baby?” she cooed her hands rubbing over your sensitive skin. You nod wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes. Natashas strong hands pulled you up to strangle her lap. “You want a reward now, don’t you baby girl” She sweetly kissed your neck. 

“Yes” You whispered, hiding your face in her shoulder. You could make out sounds of her jeans opening to reveal her gritty strap “your so wet baby” she hushed pulling your panties to the side “all for you” Natasha hummed satisfied with your answer, she guided you down on her strap only after the tip you were already clinging to her shoulders for dear life. “Aw” She mocked “Is my cock to big for your little pussy” You nodded tears staining your shirt “then you’ll have to learn to take it” 

She guided you further down her strap, you couldn’t help but moan at her intrusion. Once you were bottomed out by the older woman you could swear you’d feel her at your cervix. You started to move up and down her strap, the bouncing making your breaths giggle in her face as licked over your perky nipples. You cried out with each move of your hips, wishing that the older women would just help you. 

But she was busy worshipping your chest, peppering light kisses over your soft skin as she listened to the sweet melody of your moans. “Such a good girl” She whispered, rubbing her thumbs over your sensitive nipples, making you squeak.She noticed your tired expression as you started to feel the burn in your muscles , you simply weren’t used to having to work for your pleasure. 

“You’re you” You cried, after what felt like an eternity for your legs with still nothing to make up for. Her hands went to your waist keeping it grounded, which also made you release a sound of disagreement. “Such a brat” She chuckled.

“You can’t even make yourself cum huh? Guess you’re so dumbed down you need my help with everything” She spat guiding your hips at a much faster pace. She vigorously fucked into your puffy pussy making you squeal like an abused puppy. 

“Fucking slut got what she fucking wanted huh.” She grabbed your hair pulling it back “You gonna cum whore? Gonna cum on my cock like a bitch?” You cried out once more, loving the way she treated you. “Fuck yes” She chuckled still moving you at a fast pace, the harness felt so good against her clit. “Yeah cum on my cock”