Sam

There were certain things everyone at university knew to be true. The library would always be packed during exam season. The coffee on campus tasted like burnt dirt. And if you ever spotted Natasha Romanoff walking across the quad, chances were you wouldn't find her alone. Somewhere within arm's reach was you, laughing at something she'd whispered, wearing her hoodie or athlete jacket despite owning plenty of your own, or absentmindedly reaching for her hand as though it had always belonged there.

The first thing people noticed about Natasha Romanoff was her confidence and her cocky nature (and she looked good but that was obvious). And the second thing was that she looked at you like you hung the moon and stars. It was the kind of love that didn't seem forced or performative. She would wait outside your lectures with your favorite drink, kiss your forehead before her track practice, and somehow convince you to skip studying just long enough to watch the sunset from the roof of your residence hall. And you did all of that, because you were deeply in love with her, that and Wanda said you were uptight and needed to loosen up.

You and Natasha were practically inseparable from the day you met, well that was a stretch but it was true in its own way. It all began when you were carrying a large suitcase with a box in one arm. You had been moving into your dorm suite and with your mom, still downstairs talking the RA's ear off, you basically had to do all of the heavy carrying alone. It was fine until you accidentally bumped into someone which resulted in you dropping the box that held most of your belongings.

"Shit. I'm sorry." You exhaled, bending over to pick the fallen goods up. What you weren't expecting was for the person to reach over and help pick your stuff up. You looked up to find a redhead holding the pink teddy bear your father had gifted you as a child before he passed away. Smooth. Heat flooded your cheeks as the redhead scanned the small teddy bear before giving you a smirk.

"Cute." She mumbled as you stood up before picking the box up from the floor. She straightened up and handed you the fluffy toy, hands grazing against your own in the process.

"You in this suite?" She asked and you gave a simple nod because at that moment you could not muster the courage to talk to the extremely good looking person that was standing in front of you. This would be the person you'd share a suite with? Woah.

"Natasha. Looks like we're roommates."

"Y/n." You replied with another curt nod. Natasha chuckled before pulling the heavy box out of your arms without asking. You raised an eyebrow as she opened the door. You took in the place. It was quite simple. There was the kitchen, a living room that had a small couch and the bathroom. On the other side were doors to what you assumed to be the bedrooms.

Natasha walked over to the empty bedroom. Your bedroom.

"You don't talk much huh?" You shrugged your shoulders while grabbing your suitcase and wheeling it in.

"Guess we'll get along great then."

"I...thank you." You stammered and the redhead gave you a look that sent flutters down your spine to your core.

"No problem." She set the box down onto the mattress and looked at you.

"I'll see you later then." Before you could reply, Natasha was out of your room, probably making her way to yours. You released a short breath before your mother stumbled into the suite, waving the RA (who'd been forced to carry the rest of your bags) into your room.

___

Later that day, you were already deep in organization mode. Classes didn't start for another two weeks, but your bedroom was immaculate. Bed made with crisp sheets, books stacked by subject on the desk, clothes folded and color coded in the closet, and your bookbag already packed with notebooks, pens, and a color coded syllabus you'd printed early. Perfection was control. Control was survival.

The redhead sauntered in like she owned the place, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, athletic shorts riding low on her hips, black tank top stretched across toned shoulders and arms. Her hair was messy in that deliberately effortless way, green eyes scanning the room with a lazy smirk.

"Damn, roomie. You moving in or building a museum?" She dropped her bag right in the middle of the floor, kicking off her sneakers without bothering to line them up. One landed near your perfectly arranged shoes.

You stared, jaw tight. Rude.

"Some of us like being prepared. You planning on living out of that bag all semester?" Natasha laughed, that low, cocky and flopped onto the unmade bed across from yours, arms behind her head.

"Relax, princess. It's college. Lighten up." She watched you reorganize the bag she'd slightly disturbed, clearly amused. You then proceeded to throw her own shoe back towards her which she caught with grace.

"Please refrain from coming into my room and leaving a mess." You explained.

"You always this wound up? Or is it just for me?" You hated her immediately. That smirk. That easy confidence. The way her masculine energy filled the room and made your carefully ordered world feel... disrupted.

And later that night, after you'd politely (but firmly) asked her to move her shit off the floor for the third time, she leaned against your desk while you were triple checking your planner.

"Is this cocky attitude the one that gets you girls?" You snapped, not even looking up.

"Because it's not working on me."

Natasha's grin widened, slow and dangerous.

"Who said I was trying to get you, sweetheart?" You gave Natasha a pointed look before you moved back to organizing your stuff. At least then you'd be able to put some order into your life unlike the redhead who just smirked and left your room.

__

Living with Natasha was a mission to say the least. If it weren't for the fact that she was awfully good looking, you'd really hate the redhead. You two had been living together for almost a month. At first, it was somewhat fine. You tolerated Natasha because she was civil and respected the rules and boundaries you came up with. But then, Natasha being Natasha had managed to get in your head after a while.

With that cocky attitude of hers, she thrived on driving you to the brink of insanity. Most days, Natasha would come back from her track practice, throw her bag on the kitchen counter before making her way into the bathroom to shower. You'd scold her occasionally about being messy, and she'd shrug it off by saying you needed to loosen up a little. You'd tell her to fuck off and then she'd smirk and call you "princess". You hated her. You hated her chaos. You hated her for being so attractive.

One late afternoon you'd come back to the apartment after having a long day of attending general biology, a statistics class and intro to psych. You walked in to find Natasha blending her usual protein shake. She was dressed in a black tank top and Grey sweatpants, hair wet probably from a shower. She glanced up at you, lips twisting into that smirk of hers once she set the lid onto the blender.

"Rough day princess?" You rolled your eyes while grabbing a glass from the cupboard above Natasha. For a moment you two were pressed up against one another before you stepped back to fill your glass with water.

"I told you to stop calling me that." You said after taking a sip from the glass and Natasha simply placed a spoon inside the sink. She turned to look at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"What?"

"You look stressed."

"I am. Spent six hours with no break on campus." You finished the cup before rinsing it and placing it inside the sink.

"Make sure you clean up afterwards Romanoff."You mumbled before grabbing your backpack and heading to your room. Natasha watched you leave, eyes tracing the curve of your hips and your ass. She bit the inside of her cheek, hands gripping the counter top before accidentally dropping the spoon.

You looked back to find the redhead scratching the back of her neck while pretending like she had not been watching you walk away. Afterwards you slid into your room to take a light nap before you eventually had to study.

___

That same night you were on your bed, textbooks lined up in front of you as you made notes for your Intro to Psychology class. You'd opened the door to your bedroom because you needed the fresh air that your window  was failing to provide.

Eventually you set the highlighter down to stretch. Your back was turned so you hadn't noticed the redhead that was leaning against your bedroom door. Natasha was about to make a comment but when a sliver of smooth skin showed and a soft almost moan like sound escaped your lips, Natasha swallowed the comment but that cockiness of hers remained.

She knocked on your door to get your attention before walking in and plopping on the empty side of your bed.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." You said sarcastically as she flipped through the thick textbook on your bed.

"Don't you have other things to do? Or I don't know, other girls to bother?"

"Why bother other people when I could just bother you? Besides I enjoy toying with you."

"You're such a menace."

"And you're insatiable." She retorted. You scoffed before getting up to put your notes into their color coded files. Natasha watched you with interest, one arm propped underneath her head while the other set the textbook down.

"You ever do anything else aside from color coding and organizing everything?"

"An organized life brings success Natasha."

"Huh. Y/n, we've been living together for almost two months and I've never seen you do anything remotely college like." You scoffed, moving towards your bed, ready to pull the redhead off of your bed but when accidentally bumped into your desk, it sent your small pouch bag onto the floor before the contents fell out.

Natasha's eyes trailed down before you could react, eyes widening and lips twisting into a huge grin. You scrambled down, picking the two perfectly rolled joints, weed flower, lighter and grinder up.

"Holy shit. Didn't think you had it in you." Natasha had managed to take one joint from you, assessing it with pure fascination before you grabbed it out of her hands.

"Give me that."

"Princess perfect is actually a stoner? Wow, impressive." She raised  a brow, leaning onto your pillow as you shoved the pouch back into it's secret spot that you'd probably have to change later.

"Can you get out of my room?"

"Relax princess. I'm not judging you."

"I would not care if you did anyway." Natasha hummed then finally took the cue to leave.

"Alright then, I'll let you be." You exhaled once Natasha left your room but her scent was still clinging onto your pillow and her room. That night you struggled to sleep. You'd spent almost twenty minutes just tossing and turning before looking at the clock.

02:00

You sighed and rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling for a good five minutes. But instead of fighting with sleep, you got out of bed, your bare feet padding against the cold bamboo flooring of your bedroom as you grabbed your slippers and put them on.

Natasha found you in the kitchen a few minutes later. She watched you boil water before pouring it into the cup and stirring it. Eventually she spoke up.

"Couldn't sleep?" You shook your head and she stepped closer.

"Me neither." You grabbed another cup, pouring hot water inside before placing one of the chamomile teabags inside.

"Is this one of your health focus tea brands?" You gave Natasha a look and she grabbed the mug before bringing it up to her lips. She took a sip and hummed.

"That's actually good."

"Anything is better than whatever concoctions you make for protein." Natasha laughed, actually laughed, not one of those half chuckles she gave after throwing one of her ridiculous and dry jokes.

You spent twenty minutes like that. Just talking about small things, like how the wind outside was crazier than usual, or how loud the neighbors were and even how school was going for you two. Nothing deep but also not surface level small talk. Somewhere along the line, the cups had gotten empty and both you and Natasha had migrated to the small couch in the living area.

She'd currently been talking about the upcoming track selections and how nervous she was.

"I think you'll do great."

"Yeah? And how do you know that?" She pushed and you shrugged.

"Dunno, guess I can kind of see it. You have a nice and lean frame."

"Is this you flirting with me princess?"

"Jesus, only you'd be capable of turning a compliment into something that would fill your ego." You smacked your lips and Natasha's grin only widened.

Eventually the topics shifted onto a much more personal level. But Natasha never spoke about her own life. Instead she asked you questions and you answered, keeping it vague but respectful. And eventually you both drifted to your own bedrooms, but not before Natasha stopped you.

"Thanks. That was really... good."

"You're welcome." You both stood in the hallway, looking up at one another before she eventually stepped back, almost bumping the wall in the process. You just shook your head with a small laugh and disappeared into your own bedroom.

___

A week after that early morning, Natasha had come back from another brutal track practice. She found you sitting on your bed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration while you mindlessly bit the cap of your pen.

"Hey." She said, breaking you out of the frustrating trance you were in.

"Want to take a break?" She asked, eyebrows wiggling with what could only be mischief. You looked up and swallowed. Your eyes trailed down her sweaty frame, lean muscles and when you looked up you found the redhead waiting with that smirk of hers.

"I have a lot of work to do."

"Come on princess, don't be like that." You almost fought her but Natasha wasn't one to let things go. So you eventually sighed and slid your book from your lap and onto the bed.

"I'm not going anywhere with you until you take a shower." Natasha gave you one of her crooked smiles.

"What, you don't think I look good like this?"

"Shower or get out of my room." She eventually raised her hands up in surrender but left to go shower, mumbling how she'd be done in an hour.

That's how you found yourself walking with Natasha to some building behind the athletics complex. At first you fought her, mumbling how you had to be back soon because you were busy. But Natasha shut you down once she held up a fat joint, the words dying down fast.

"Huh, who would've thought that's all I needed to do to shut you up." She'd remarked while you shoved her shoulder.

"Shut up and let's go."

And that's how you found yourself sitting on a bench facing trees with off campus apartments. You two sat next to one another, watching the streets bustle with students going out for the night while others came back from the library. Natasha pulled out a simple black lighter before placing the joint in between her pink lips. You really never thought you'd envy a joint but here you were.

You watched her take a drag before exhaling the earthy smoke. You hated yourself for feeling this way about Natasha. She was cocky, egotistical, sometimes messy and annoying. But at the same time, she was also hot, funny and again, really fucking hot.

You were eventually pulled out of your thoughts when she leaned forward to hand you the joint. You accepted it before bringing it up to your own lips and inhaling the earthy smoke. Your body melted as the smoke curled around the both of you. You coughed once then took another inhale. Natasha didn't make fun of you, but she also did not wipe that smirk off of her face. You two sat there in silence for almost fifteen minutes before the weed finally settled deep within your bodies.

The high was smooth and calm. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulder as you leaned back against the wall. Within a few minutes you started talking. Really talking. About nothing and everything. Natasha watched your lips moved as you rambled on about something. She threw one of her dry jokes and you laughed. She liked the fact that you laughed. Your laugh sounded nice.

"You're fun like this." She said and you turned to look at her.

"That seems awfully backhanded."

"No, you're always locked in your bedroom so much that I never get to speak to you unless you're scolding me." All you could do was shrug your shoulders. I mean what else could you say?

"I know you think I'm uptight, but I'm not." You'd spoken up after a while of comfortable silence. Natasha turned around and looked at you properly this time. The way your curls framed your face, the way your skin shone under the campus lights and the way you seemed to always be in thought no matter the time. You looked really good. So good that Natasha wanted to lean in and kiss you. But all she did was clear her throat.

"We should go." She said, already standing up and offering her hand to help guide you up. You took it without saying anything this time. Her hand was warm, and it felt nice. You two walked back in comfortable silence, the high making the walk intense in the best way.

When the two of you reached your apartment, you gave Natasha a small shove with your shoulder again.

"Thanks. This actually really helped."

"No problem." You two stood there in the hallway before you nodded then walked into your bedroom and closed the door.

___

After that night, it sort of became a habit. You and Natasha would walk to the athletics complex, sit there while smoking and talking about stuff. Sometimes you'd just sit there in silence and watch nature take its course.

After a particularly long day of classes and practice, Natasha came back to the dorm with a fat, perfectly rolled blunt and that signature cocky smirk.

"Round two, princess. You in? Or are you too scared I'll corrupt your perfect little routine?" You rolled your eyes but agreed. The two of you ended up on the quiet grassy area behind the athletics building again, sitting on a blanket under the stars. The first hit already loosened the tension between you. By the time the blunt was half gone, you were both properly crossed, all giggly, warm, and hyper aware of each other.

You were lying on your back, looking up at the sky, when Natasha rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. Her red hair fell messily around her face, green eyes dark and intense as they traced over your body.

"You're really fucking hot when you're relaxed, you know that?" She murmured, her voice lower than usual. You turned your head, heart beating faster.

"You're only saying that because you're high."

"Nah." She leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away.

"I've been thinking about this since the day your grinder fell out." The kiss started soft. It was tentative, tasting like weed and cherry lip balm. Then it deepened fast. Natasha's hand slid under your hoodie, palm hot against your warm skin as she cupped your breast. You moaned into her mouth, fingers threading through her red hair and tugging.

Things escalated quickly. She pulled you on top of her, hands gripping your ass as you straddled her hips. The high made everything feel slow and intense at the same time. You ground against her, hands still tugging red hair while her own hands played with your breasts. She pinched a nipple and you moaned louder into her mouth. But you eventually pulled back.

"We can't." Natasha looked up at you with dark eyes and swollen lips.

"Not outside. Someone could see us." You sat up whe fixing your hoodie.

You stood up on shaky legs almost tumbling back down onto her lap and Natasha laughed.

"Damn, already falling for me." She retorted and you kicked her shin. She groaned.

"Fair enough." She mumbled. With your help, Natasha stood up and picked the blanket she'd laid down along with her small bag that carried all of her miscellaneous stuff.

The walk back to your suite was charged with electricity and the leftover tension from before amplified by the high. When you reached the suite, she set the things down before turning to face you. You took a step back until you hit the kitchen counter.

"We should probably talk about the kiss." Natasha raised a singular brow.

"Talk?" You nodded.

"Y-yeah. Talk." Natasha stepped closer hands making their way around your waist.

"You seriously want to talk?" She pulled you closer to her and you gasped.

"N-Nat."

"I don't think you want to talk." She leaned forward, her lips inches away from yours.

"Nat..." You whispered, voice trembling.

"Yeah princess?" You closed your eyes and opened them again to find her green ones watching.

"Kiss me." She didn't need anymore convincing, her lips found yours.

This time the kiss was heated, all the built up frustration from your days and the tension that had been simmering between you two for the past few weeks now being poured out into this kiss. Natasha pressed you further into the wall before she wedged her thigh in between your legs. The moan you let out was muffled by her lips but it still managed to send heat down to Natasha's own core.

"I want to hear you make that sound again." She'd whispered against your lips, her hands roaming around your waist but still remaining respectful. The realization alone sent flutters down your own stomach. You ground yourself against her thighs, and Natasha took the opportunity to grip onto your ass, pulling you closer. With strong arms, Natasha picked you up and led you to the nearest room which was your bedroom.

She carried you into your bedroom, foot closing your door right after before "gently" placing you onto your neatly made bed.

"Hey, careful-"

"These sheets are gonna be messed up when I'm done with you anyways. Should be the least of your worries." She leaned forward to kiss you again, and you pulled her against you. Her hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up. You let her pull it off, then your t-shirt underneath, heart pounding with desire.

That's when she saw them. The faint silvery scars on your upper arms and across the softer skin below your collarbones caught the low lamplight. You froze once you'd noticed the change in her expression. Shame hit like ice water through the haze. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hide, curls falling forward as you curled in on yourself.

"I think you should maybe leave." Just then Natasha grabbed your wrists, pulling you even closer. She didn't say anything, she didn't have to say anything. She'd seen them in passing when you were changing and she accidentally caught a glimpse of your body from behind (you were late for class after accidentally spilling coffee on your shirt and you'd forgotten to close the door).

Natasha simply pressed a kiss onto the jagged marks on your upper arms and the smaller ones on your collarbone. Your once tense body relaxed as she kept pressing kisses from your collarbone and onto your neck. You eventually leaned back, letting Natasha continue kissing and biting the smooth skin. She eventually found the sweet spot that had you letting out the softest sounds that made her suck and bite even more.

More clothes came off before you were both on your bed naked. At one point you'd stopped to lecture Natasha for carelessly throwing her hoodie onto the floor but that stopped once she'd started trailing her lips downwards until she was in between your thighs. She slipped your panties off a little until the black lace was out of her way, still hanging around your ankle but far enough for her to work.

Natasha slid her left finger in between your now swollen and aching slit. And it felt good.

"Stop teasing."

"Whatever you say princess." Her tongue slid into your soaking cunt, slightly calloused hands pulling you closer so she could feast on your pussy. You threw your head back as Natasha threw one leg over her shoulder, the same one that held the lace panties before they eventually fell onto the floor next to her hoodie.

Natasha moaned at the taste of your arousal, tongue finding it's rhythm inside of you.

"W-wow." Was all you could breathlessly moan and Natasha moaned in between your legs.

"Yeah?" She whispered mouth still working you open before she introduced a finger. Natasha slid her index finger inside of you which made you buck further into her mouth.

"Tell me how it feels." She worked the finger inside of you, the obscene sound of your pussy getting fucked, filling the walls of your bedroom.

"Good."

"I think you can do better than that." Natasha curled the finger which made you moan out loud. Her tongue was hot and confident as she dragged it through your folds, exploring before focusing on your clit. She sucked the sensitive bud into her mouth, tongue flicking fast and firm. She then added a second finger, curling them in a "come hither" motion.

"You always get this wet y/n?" She teased as her finger slid in and out of you so effortlessly. You shook your head.

"Yeah? Just for me?" She continued stroking her fingers inside of you, hitting the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars.

"Your tongue feels so fucking good. Fuck, Nat-" You gasped, hips bucking. She held you down with one strong arm across your waist, red hair tickling your thighs as she ate you out like she was starving. The wet, obscene sounds continued to fill the small bedroom, her tongue lapping and sucking, fingers thrusting deep and curling against that spot inside you. You gripped her hair tight, thighs trembling around her head. The high made everything feel overwhelming and perfect at the same time. Every lick, every curl of her fingers sent sparks up your spine.

She looked up at you while she worked, her green eyes locked on yours, lips and chin shiny with your wetness. The sight alone nearly made you come alone.

"You taste so fucking good y/n." She groaned against your pussy, then dove back in harder. She sucked your clit rhythmically while her fingers fucked you faster, curling just right. Your back arched hard off the bed.

"Nat, shit... I'm gonna...fuck!" She didn't stop. She moaned into you, the vibration pushing you over the edge.

You came hard on her tongue, thighs clamping around her head, a broken moan of her name spilling from your lips as your pussy clenched around her fingers. Natasha kept licking you through it, slower and gentler, until your legs were shaking and you were pushing at her head from the overstimulation. She finally pulled back, lips shiny, and crawled up your body with a satisfied smirk. She kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

"You good, princess?" She asked, voice husky. You could barely speak, still catching your breath. You just nodded and pulled her back down for another kiss.

You were still panting, thighs twitching from the aftershocks as Natasha crawled up your body with that satisfied, cocky smirk. Her lips and chin were shiny with your wetness, green eyes dark with hunger. Before she could say anything smug, you grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her onto her back. The high made you bold.

"My turn." You murmured, voice husky.

Natasha's eyebrows rose, but her smirk widened as she spread her legs for you.

"Yeah? Show me what you got, princess." You kissed her hard, tasting yourself on her tongue, then started moving down her body. You sucked marks into her pale neck and collarbone, then lower, taking one of her nipples into your mouth while your hand slid between her thighs. She was soaked. You groaned against her skin when your fingers met all that slick heat.

"Fuck, you're wet." You breathed, almost surprised. Natasha let out a low chuckle that turned into a moan when you kissed down her toned stomach and settled between her legs. You didn't tease. You dove straight in. You licked a slow, broad stripe up her pussy, savoring the taste of her. Natasha's hips jerked, one hand flying to your curls. You licked again, firmer this time, tongue dragging through her folds before circling her clit.

"Shit, yeah just like that." She groaned, thighs tensing around your head.

You got more confident. You sucked her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue fast while sliding two fingers inside her. She was tight and dripping, clenching around your fingers as you curled them upward. The wet sounds were loud in the small bedroom of yours, obscene and yet so addictive.

Natasha's usual cocky control started slipping. Her red hair was messy against the pillow, hips rolling up into your mouth as she cursed under her breath.

"Fuck, y/n... your mouth feels so fucking good."

You moaned against her pussy, the vibration making her gasp. You fucked her harder with your fingers, sucking and licking her clit with messy enthusiasm, completely lost in the high and the taste of her. You looked up at her while you worked to make her cum. Her green eyes half lidded, lips parted, chest heaving. She looked wrecked. It was hot as hell.

You added a third finger, thrusting deep and steady while your tongue worked her clit relentlessly. Natasha's grip on your curls tightened, her thighs starting to tremble.

"Don't stop, please, fuck, I'm close-" You didn't. You sucked harder, curled your fingers just right, and moaned against her as she came.

Natasha came with a low, broken groan, hips bucking against your face as her pussy clenched hard around your fingers. You kept licking her through it, slower and gentler, until her thighs stopped shaking and she tugged weakly at your hair.

You finally pulled back, lips shiny, and crawled up her body. Natasha immediately yanked you down into a messy kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

"Damn. " She muttered against your lips, still breathing hard.

"You're really good at that." You laughed breathlessly, collapsing beside her. She pulled you close, one arm slung around your waist, both of you sweaty and hazy from the weed and the orgasms.

Neither of you said much after that. Just tangled limbs, lazy kisses, and the quiet satisfaction after making each other cum.

___

Sunlight filtered through the blinds the next morning. You woke up naked in your own bed, but Natasha's arm was slung possessively over your waist and her red hair was tickling your shoulder.

For a second, the memories hit you. The shared blunt, her mouth between your thighs, the way you'd moaned her name, how good she'd felt. Your own leg in between her thighs. Your face heated instantly.

You carefully slipped out from under her arm, grabbed one of the oversized t-shirts from the floor which so happened to be hers, and tiptoed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Back to normal. You had a 10 a.m. lecture. You also had notes to review. What happened was just... a one time thing. Spontaneous. Roommates with benefits didn't mean mornings had to be weird. Right?

You then walked back to your bedroom, ready to organize everything for the day. You were already at your desk in her t-shirt and panties, frantically reorganizing your color-coded planners and pretending last night hadn't happened, when Natasha finally stirred. She stretched like a cat, the sheet slipping down her pale, toned body. When she saw you at your desk, already in full type A mode, her lips curved into that infuriating cocky smirk.

"Morning, princess." She said, voice still raspy from sleep and smoke.

"Running away already?"

"I have class." You replied, not looking at her. You straightened your pens with more force than necessary.

"And you should probably clean up your bedroom, I walked passed it and it looks like a tornado hit it."

Natasha chuckled lowly and sat up, not bothering to cover herself.

"Cute. You're back to scolding me like nothing happened. Like I didn't have my tongue buried in your pussy last night."  Your pen froze mid air. Heat rushed through you at the crude reminder. You turned slowly, trying to look unaffected.

"It was just sex, Natasha. We were high. It doesn't have to be a thing."

She stood up, completely naked, and walked over to you with that effortless athletic swagger. She stopped right behind your chair, leaning down so her breath brushed your ear.

"You can pretend all you want." She murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"But I still remember how you sounded when you came on my face. How you gripped my hair and begged for more." You shivered. Your thighs pressed together involuntarily. Damn her.

You stood up abruptly, putting distance between you.

"I'm not begging. And I have to get ready for class."  Natasha just smirked wider, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. She reached out and tugged lightly on the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, her t-shirt.

"Keep it." She said.

"Looks better on you anyway." You grabbed your towel and practically fled to the bathroom, heart racing and skin still tingling from her proximity. You could hear her low laugh behind you.

The entire day, you tried to focus on lectures. Tried to pretend it was nothing. But Natasha's words kept echoing in your head. The memory of her mouth. Her fingers. How ridiculously good she was.

By the time you got back to the dorm that evening, you were tense and annoyed at how easily she'd gotten under your skin again.Natasha was sprawled on the living room couch in shorts and a sports bra, looking far too pleased with herself when you walked in.

"Still pretending, princess?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. You dropped your bag onto the kicthen counter and crossed your arms.

"You're impossible." She grinned and crooked a finger at you.

"Come here and I'll show you just how impossible I can be."

"I'm not easy Natasha."

"I never said you were. And quite frankly I enjoy it when you fight me, it's like our very own foreplay." You huffed in annoyance and turned around to grab a glass of water. Anything to help distract you from the girl sitting behind you. But that failed when you felt Natasha's presence and warmth behind you. You felt her hand tuck your hair aside before she pressed a kiss onto your neck.

"Tell me you didn't enjoy last night."

"Natasha I have work to do."

"Yeah? And there's something else I'd like to do now too. You."

"Smooth." But you weren't exactly pulling away when she wrapped her arms around your waist. And when she started kissing down your neck, you were already leaning against her, head thrown back, ass press firmly against her front.

It lasted approximately five minutes before you were led into her bedroom, gripping her red hair while riding her face with vigorous speed. The soft sounds of your moans bouncing off of her bedroom walls.

___

The next morning, you woke up first. The dorm was quiet except for Natasha's soft breathing. You were still in her bed, naked under the sheets, body pleasantly sore in places that made your face burn with memory. The joint you'd smokes in her room, her mouth on you, the way you'd moaned without shame... it all came rushing back.

You slipped out carefully, grabbed the first shirt you could find (hers, again), and went straight to your bedroom and sat by your desk. Back to normal. You started reorganizing your notes with sharp, precise movements, trying to shove the entire night into a neat little box labeled "Mistake."

Natasha woke up about twenty minutes later. She stretched, the sheet falling to her waist, and smirked the second she saw you already in full planner mode once she'd reached your door.

"Morning, princess." She drawled, voice still rough from sleep.

"You're up early again. Trying to pretend you weren't riding my face last night?"

You didn't look at her.

"I have a lecture later today. And your bedroom is a disaster again. Can you at least try to keep your shit contained now that we're... whatever this is?"

Natasha chuckled, completely unbothered by her own nudity. She walked over and leaned against your desk, arms crossed, watching you straighten pens with way too much focus.

"You're cute when you're in denial." She said.

"All tense and bratty like I didn't make you come three times."  Your grip tightened on the edge of the desk. Heat flared low in your belly despite yourself.

"It was all just fun okay, Natasha. Don't make it weird."

She leaned down closer, red hair falling forward, green eyes amused.

"Weird? You mean like how you're wearing my shirt right now? Or how wet you already are just from me standing here?" 

"You're in my bedroom naked."

"Yeah, and you like it." You finally looked up, glaring.

"You're so fucking cocky." That was all it took. Natasha grabbed you by the waist, spun you around, and bent you over your own desk in one smooth motion. Your carefully stacked planners and notes went flying again as she pressed up behind you.

"Yeah?" She murmured against your ear, yanking your her shirt up over your ass.

"Keep scolding me then. See what happens."

You tried to snap back, but the words died when she dropped to her knees and buried her tongue in your pussy from behind without any warning. She ate you out like she was proving a point. One that was messy, confident, and relentless. Her hands spread your cheeks as her tongue licked and sucked, two fingers pushing inside you deep. You gripped the far edge of the desk hard, biting your lip to stay quiet, but soft moans still escaped. She didn't stop until you came hard, thighs shaking, forehead pressed against the wood. Natasha stood up, wiped her mouth, and leaned over you.

"Still think it was just the weed?" She asked, voice smug. You were breathless, annoyed, and already wanting more.

"Just shut up and fuck me properly." You muttered.

___

The pattern became frequent. After the third night, you and Natasha stopped pretending like this was nothing, especially when the sex was just way to good to pretend. So you both agreed on being roommates with benefits. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it, that's what it was.

When you told your close friend Wanda about it, she'd given you a look that said she wasn't all for it.

"These never end well y/n." You sighed as you two neared your favorite café.

"I know but its not like we can avoid one another Wans. I mean we live together for Pete's sake."

"Pete's sake?" Wanda teased and you rolled your eyes.

"Point is, we can't avoid it. Besides the sex is good." You shrugged and Wanda chuckled while opening the door.

You and Natasha began the rhythm. Whenever you had a bad day from pre-med classes, all she needed to do was look you in the eye, before she was guiding you onto the nearest surface and burying her face between your legs. Or whenever she had a bad practice, all you needed to do was pull her by her hoodie before laying her on the bed and fucking her with your fingers.

It was good, spontaneous and convenient. Neither of you had bothered to label it let alone think about it. This was all just the harmless kind of fun people have in college. Yeah. Just fun.

___

It was a Thursday night in mid November. You'd had one of those days. The kind where everything felt heavy. A brutal organic chemistry midterm you weren't sure you'd passed, followed by a phone call with your mom that dragged up old memories of your dad. You came back to the suite quiet and closed off, and this time it was the kind of quiet that usually meant you'd bury yourself in planners and books until the feelings went away.

Natasha was already there, sprawled on the couch in a tank top and shorts after practice. She noticed immediately. Instead of her usual cocky greeting or grabbing you for a quick fuck, she sat up from the couch and watched you drop your bag onto the kitchen counter and start reorganizing the contents in your bag with sharp, tense movements.

"You're spiraling." She said simply.

"I'm fine Natasha." You mumbled but your voice wavered. You weren't fine. You kept moving things around, trying to regain control. Natasha got up, crossed the room, and gently took the stack of notes from your hands.

"Hey." She said softly.

"Stop." You tried to pull away, but she set the notes down and tugged you toward her bedroom instead. No heat. No smirk. Just her strong arms guiding you down until you were both lying there, facing each other.

You expected her to kiss you, to turn it into sex like always. That's what this was supposed to be, just benefits. Release. Nothing more. But she didn't. Natasha just pulled you closer until your head rested on her chest. One hand stroked slowly through your curls, the other rubbing gentle circles on your back. The silence stretched, comfortable and heavy at the same time.

"You don't have to be okay all the time." She murmured after a while. Her voice was quieter than you'd ever heard it.

"Not with me." Something in your chest cracked. You hadn't let anyone see this version of you in years. The scared girl who still felt the guilt and pressure from home, who built walls of order so the world couldn't take anything else away.

But here, in the dim dorm light with Natasha's heartbeat steady under your ear, the walls felt exhausting.

You didn't cry. You just breathed her in. The faint scent of her body wash and the gym. And you just let yourself be held. After a long stretch of silence, Natasha spoke again.

"Wanna get something to eat?" All you did was nod, but Natasha held you for longer. She didn't want to stop.

___

Natasha slammed the door harder than necessary when she got back. You looked up from the couch, highlighter paused mid sentence. She was limping noticeably, jaw clenched, a fresh bruise blooming on her left cheekbone. Her duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, followed by one sneaker, then the other, right in the middle of the room.

"Bad day?" You asked carefully.

"Understatement." She grunted, wincing as she tried to put weight on her right ankle.

"Some rookie on the team decided to play hero during drills. I took the fall. Coach reamed me out anyway. Then my phone started blowing up with family shit. Perfect fucking day."

She looked pissed off at the world. You knew that look. It was the same one she got right before she usually pushed you up against a wall to blow off steam. But tonight she just walked into her room and dropped onto her bed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended her. You closed your notebook and stood up before making your way into her room.

"Don't." She muttered when she saw you moving.

"I'm not really in the mood for your organizing lecture right now."

"I wasn't going to lecture you." You grabbed the ice pack from the fridge a towel, and the first aid kit that you kept in your room. Then you knelt in front of her without asking.

Natasha watched you silently as you gently lifted her injured foot into your lap and wrapped the ice pack around her swollen ankle. Your touch was careful but firm. You didn't say anything about the mess she'd made or the shoes in the middle of the floor. You just worked quietly, dabbing the bruise on her cheek with a cool cloth next. She stayed tense for the first few minutes, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then something in her shoulders finally loosened.

"Thanks."  She said gruffly, almost like the word hurt to say. You finished securing the wrap and looked up at her.

"You don't always have to be the tough one, you know." Natasha let out a bitter little laugh.

"Yeah? Tell that to everyone who needs something from me." Instead of answering with words, you climbed onto the bed beside her and gently pulled her down. She resisted for half a second out of habit, then let you maneuver her so she was curled against your side, head resting on your chest.

This was new territory.

Natasha Romanoff, the girl who always had to be the strong, cocky one, let herself be held. She shifted until she was fully tucked into you, face buried in the crook of your neck, one arm slung over your waist. You wrapped both arms around her, one hand slowly stroking up and down her back.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. You just held her while she breathed through the shitty day.

Eventually, she mumbled against your skin.

"I hate this ankle. And my family. And today."

"I know." You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her red hair. You stayed like that for over an hour. No sex. No teasing. Just you holding her while she let herself be vulnerable for once.

Later, when you both shifted to get more comfortable, Natasha turned over so her back was pressed against your front. You instinctively curled around her, becoming the big spoon. Your arm wrapped around her waist, your chest to her back, legs carefully tangled so you wouldn't bump her injured ankle.

Natasha let out a long, shaky breath and relaxed completely into you, the little spoon for the first time.

"Never thought I'd let anyone hold me like this." She admitted quietly into the dark. You hugged her a little tighter.

"Get used to it."  She didn't reply, but her hand found yours and laced your fingers together over her stomach.

___

The shift happened gradually. You and Natasha still continued to have sex on occasions (more often than you'd like to admit) but underneath it all, something began brewing. Sometimes you caught yourself watching Natasha. Like the one Saturday morning where she offered to make you breakfast to deal with your hangover. Both of you had gone out the night before to some house party.

Natasha had to actually drag you out after you'd been locked in your bedroom for seven hours straight. You'd complained about it, so much that Natasha had to pick you up and out of the chair. You dropped your weight on purpose, forcing Natasha to practically drag you out of the chair.

"Stop deadweighting." Natasha grunted, readjusting her grip.

"I'm not." you lied, immediately slouching even harder. Natasha eventually gave up and threw you into your bed.

Natasha opened your closet, ruffling through the clothes inside. You sat up and frowned.

"What are you doing? Stop that. You're making a mess!" You scolded but Natasha didn't listen. She continued rummaging until she pulled out a black dress before handing it to you.

"Here, put this on."

"Why this?"

"Because I've never seen you in it and it looks easier to take off. Now get dressed." Without another word, Natasha left you to go get ready. And well, obviously you got dressed.

The party was loud enough to make conversation optional. Music thumped through the walls of the frat house, bass vibrating beneath your sneakers as bodies squeezed past one another with red cups and slurred laughter. Someone had already spilled something sticky across the kitchen floor.

"This was worth dragging you out for." Natasha teased, nudging your shoulder. You rolled your eyes.

"I'm still convinced I would've had a better night in bed."

"You say that every time."

"And every time I'm right." Natasha laughed, that soft laugh she only seemed to have around you, and she disappeared toward the kitchen, returning a minute later with two drinks.

"I remembered." She said, handing you the one without the cranberry flavored vodka. You frowned.

"You remembered?"

"You hate cranberry."

"Oh." You accepted the cup, suddenly aware that she'd never once asked you to remind her.

Hours blurred together. You danced with your friends. Natasha disappeared into conversations with her teammates. Every so often your eyes found each other across the room. Neither of you acknowledged it. Because there was nothing to acknowledge.

Then someone wrapped an arm around your waist. A guy from one of your statistics tutorials.

"You've been hiding all semester." He grinned.

"Dance with me?" You shrugged your shoulders.

"Sure." It wasn't anything serious. It was just dancing. No harm in that right?

You laughed at one of his terrible jokes, swaying absentmindedly with the music. Across the room, Natasha's smile faltered. Her teammate was halfway through telling a story before Natasha realized she hadn't heard a single word.

Who was that? Why was his hand there? And why...Why did it bother her?She scoffed quietly to herself. Ridiculous. You weren't together. Hell, you weren't even dating. You were roommates who occasionally slept together. That was all. So why did she suddenly want to march over there and pry his hand off your waist-

"You okay?" Natasha blinked.

"Hm?"

"You've been staring for like... five minutes."

"I wasn't staring." She said which wasn't exactly a lie.  Her teammate followed her gaze.

"Oh." Natasha immediately looked away.

"Oh?"

"You've got it bad."

"I literally don't."

"Romanoff."

"We're just roommates."

"...Who have sex."

"...With boundaries." Her teammate snorted into her drink.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

When the song changed, you excused yourself for some air. The backyard was cooler, quieter. You leaned against the railing, breathing. A few seconds later the back door opened.

"You disappear a lot princess." You didn't have to turn around.

"I like quiet." Natasha stepped beside you, her warmth grounding you in the moment.  Neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't awkward. It was... comfortable, like it always was whenever you say with Natasha.

Your shoulders brushed. Neither of you moved away.

"You cold?" Natasha asked.

"A little." Without thinking, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

"You'll freeze."

"So will you."

"I run hot." You smiled and let out a small chuckle.

"You always have an answer."

"One of us has to." Another silence.

Your fingers found the sleeve of her jacket, absentmindedly rubbing the fabric between your thumb and forefinger.

"You know..." Natasha said quietly.

"Hm?"

"I think you're the only person I actually like coming to these things with." You looked at her. She looked back. For just a second.

Long enough for something unfamiliar to settle between you. Not desire. That part had always been easy. This was...Different. Neither of you had a name for it yet. So, naturally, you both looked away first.

By the time the two of you stumbled back to the apartment, it was well past two in the morning. Natasha fumbled with the keys, muttering something under her breath when she missed the lock for the third time.

"You've got the hand-eye coordination of a professional athlete," you deadpanned.

"I've been drinking."

"You've had two vodka cranberries."

"They were... strong vodka cranberries." The door finally clicked open. You kicked your shoes off the moment you stepped inside, groaning at the relief.

"I am never wearing heels again."

"You say that every time."

"And this time I mean it." Natasha only smiled. It was domestic in a way that neither of you cared to acknowledge.

You disappeared into your room long enough to swap your dress for an oversized T-shirt and a pair of shorts. By the time you emerged, Natasha was already in the kitchen, two glasses of water sitting on the counter.

"Hydrate." She said, sliding one toward you. You raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." You said, with a small shake of your head.

"What?"

"It's just..." You took the glass, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

"You're weirdly caring." Natasha scoffed.

"I'm preventing your hangover. Selfish reasons."

"Mhm."

"I'm serious." She pushed.

"Sure you are." The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It rarely was anymore. You leaned against opposite sides of the counter, lazily sipping water while the refrigerator hummed in the background.

"You disappeared for a while tonight," Natasha said eventually.

"So did you."

"I was talking to my teammates."

"I noticed." She hesitated but then she spoke up again.

"...That guy."

"What guy?"

"The one you were dancing with." You blinked.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"He asked me to dance."

"I saw." You couldn't help the teasing smile that spread across your face.

"Were you jealous?" Natasha answered far too quickly.

"No."

"You hesitated."

"I didn't."

"You literally did."

"I was thinking."

"About?"

"How annoying you are." You laughed, shaking your head as you walked past her.

"You were jealous."

"I wasn't."

"You so were." Before you could make it another step, Natasha caught your wrist. Not tightly. Just enough to stop you. The apartment fell quiet.

You looked down at her hand, then back up at her. Neither of you spoke. It would've been so easy to let go. Instead, her thumb brushed absentmindedly against your skin. A thoughtless gesture. One she'd probably deny remembering in the morning.

"You've got glitter on your face princess." She murmured.

"Oh." She reached up before you could react. Her fingers barely skimmed your cheek. One tiny fleck of silver caught on her fingertip.

"There." Neither of you moved. You were standing far too close now. Close enough to hear each other breathe.

Close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Natasha swallowed.

"We should probably go to bed."

"Probably." Neither of you did. For one suspended moment, the world seemed to wait with you. Then Natasha stepped back first.

"Goodnight."

"Night, Nat." Your bedroom door clicked shut behind you. Only then did Natasha let out the breath she'd been holding.

"This is getting dangerous." She whispered to the empty apartment. And in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed, you whispered the exact same thing.

And now, Natasha stood at the small counter in just a tank top and sleep shorts, red hair tied up loosely with strands falling around her face. She moved carefully because of her ankle, but she was focused, cracking eggs into the pan, buttering toast, cutting up an apple she must have grabbed from somewhere. Two plates were already set out.

You stood, leaning against the wall and just watching Natasha move. There was something about the sight that made your chest ache with a deep, quiet yearning. Natasha Romanoff, the girl who left chaos everywhere she went, who swore she didn't do soft things was currently making you breakfast.

After last night. After she'd watched that guy flirt with you at the party with that tight jaw and sharp eyes. After she'd pulled you close on the dance floor like she couldn't stand anyone else near you. After the almost moment at the door where she'd looked at you like she wanted to say something she couldn't. You wanted to crawl back under the covers of your bed and hide from how much you felt.

Instead, you straightened up and padded over quietly. Natasha glanced at you when you leaned against the doorway. For a second her green eyes softened, almost vulnerable, before she looked back at the pan.

"Morning." She said, voice a little rough. "Figured you'd be hungover. Sit." You sat at the tiny table.

She brought over a plate, perfectly cooked eggs, buttered toast, sliced apple, and a glass of water with ibuprofen next to it. She set it down in front of you like it was nothing, then sat across from you with her own plate.

You stared at the food for a long moment. She made this for you.

The girl who usually left protein shakers on your desk and teased you about your planners had gotten up early (or stayed up) to do something nice. No teasing comment. No smirk. Just quiet care.

The yearning hit you harder than it ever had. You wanted this version of her every morning. The one who noticed when you were overwhelmed. The one who got jealous but didn't make it your problem. The one who held you on bad nights and let you hold her on hers. You wanted to reach across the table and touch her hand. You wanted to tell her how much it meant. But you stayed silent, because saying it out loud would make it too real.

Natasha kept stealing glances at you while she ate. Her eyes lingered on your messy curls, on the way you were still wearing last night's shirt. There was a tension in her shoulders, like she was holding something back. Like she was fighting the same pull you were. The silence between you felt heavy with everything unsaid.

You wanted to be closer to her. You wanted her to pull you into her lap and hold you like she had the other night. You wanted to bury your face in her neck and breathe her in until the fear of loving someone this much went away. Instead, you took a bite of the eggs.

"They're good." You said softly.

Natasha's lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile.

"Yeah?" You nodded, heart aching with how much you were already falling.

She didn't need to say anything. The breakfast, the quiet way she watched you, the way her foot gently brushed yours under the table, it was all there.

And you were terrified by how badly you wanted to keep it.

___

The party that Wanda was throwing was loud and crowded, but Natasha couldn’t take her eyes off you. She seemed worried because you weren't acting like yourself.  She noticed it first in the bathroom hallway. You’d stepped away for a minute, and when she followed a little later, she caught you in the mirror. Your face was twisted. A quick flash of disgust and shame as you looked at your reflection, arms subtly crossing over your chest like you wanted to disappear. You fixed your expression fast, but Natasha saw it. She felt it like a punch to the gut and said nothing. Not then.

Later, back in the main room, it got worse. You were sitting beside her on the couch, but you weren’t really there. Your arms stayed crossed tight over your chest. Your shoulders curved inward. You laughed when your friends joked but it was hollow. Natasha watched you slowly disappear into your head, picking at the sleeve of your shirt, trying to hide pieces of yourself she already knew were beautiful.

It killed her.

The walk home was quiet, the cold night air sharp between you. Natasha’s hand brushed yours a few times but she didn’t grab it. She just stayed close, jaw tight, heart doing something complicated and heavy in her chest.

The second the door to your suite closed, she couldn’t hold back anymore.

She stepped forward and pulled you into her arms right there in the middle of the living room.

No words. No teasing. No rush to turn it into sex. Just Natasha wrapping herself around you completely. One arm slid around your waist, the other hand cradling the back of your head as she tucked your face gently into the crook of her neck. She held you like she was trying to shield you from the whole world. It was strong, steady, and warm.

You froze for half a second, then melted. Your arms came up slowly, wrapping around her back, fingers clutching the fabric of her hoodie like she might vanish. Natasha’s chin rested on top of your head. She breathed you in, slow and deep, her heartbeat strong against your cheek.

The silence was thick with everything unsaid. She could feel the tension still lingering in your body, the way you were trying so hard to shrink yourself. It made her chest ache with a fierce, protective kind of yearning. She wanted to tell you how fucking perfect you were. How she hated that you ever looked at yourself like that. How she’d been falling for you for weeks now. For the girl who scolded her about messes and still took care of her when her ankle was fucked up. For the girl who let her see the cracks even when it scared her.

But she didn’t speak. She just held you tighter, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other stayed buried in your curls. The butterflies in her stomach were violent. This wasn’t benefits anymore. This was her wanting to be the person who made you feel safe enough to stop hiding. You pressed closer, face buried deeper into her neck, breathing her in like she was the only steady thing in your chaotic world. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure she could feel it.

You were terrified by how much you needed this. How much you needed her. The girl whose chaos kept breaking your control and somehow made you feel more alive than your perfect plans ever had. Neither of you let go. You stood there in the middle of the living room for what felt like forever, wrapped up in each other, hearts racing with quiet, terrifying yearning. The kind of closeness that felt bigger than sex. Bigger than just roommates with benefits. This was just two girls falling slowly, deeply, and helplessly into something neither of them could stop anymore.

Later that night, you laid in Natasha's bed. No heat except for the warmth her body provided. She held you tightly as you both watched tiktoks on your phone. It seemed very intimate, the lines were crossing. But as Natasha pressed a kiss onto the top of your head before laughing at some video on your phone, you knew that you wanted to feel this more. You wanted her. Deeply.

___

2026

You were sitting in the bedroom of your off campus room, pre-med textbooks gathered around you like weapons. The room smelt of Redbull, the incense sticks you'd lit up to relax you and help you study (which failed) alongside your iPad. Luna, your cat, was perched on the other side of the bed, her gaze focused on your stressful form. She tried to help by making the occasional biscuit but that ended with her taking a short nap inside of your sheets. Lucky.

You groaned, throwing your head back before closing your textbook. Just then, your phone buzzed with a notification. You glanced at it and found her name on your screen. Your stomach shrank.

Natasha

Fans want more content. You up for it?

You clenched your jaw, heart slamming against your ribs. You wanted to type, tell her to fuck off but you didn't have enough fight in you anymore. It still hurt deeply. It was as if Natasha had pulled your entire heart out with her hands before smashing it into bits and pieces. The tears were already gathering in your eyes. How could she just waltz back into your life after every fucking thing? You should have blocked her, deleted her number even but instead, you just typed.

You

Why are you texting me?

Natasha

Just wanted to see if you're up for it. I miss you.

The notification preview told you everything you needed to know. You read it once, twice, then swiped it away without ever opening the conversation. You laughed bitterly before switching your phone off for the night. You grabbed your books and iPad to place them aside. You weren't in the right mind space to do any studying.

Luna moved closer, tucking herself underneath your arm once you were settled. You switched the lights off and stared at the ceiling. How dare she.

But when you woke up the next morning, the message was edited this time. Still there, just that last phrase "I miss you" was gone. Coward.

___

It was a rainy Friday morning. The storm kept everyone inside. You were curled up on the couch with a textbook, trying to focus. Natasha had been restless, pacing the living room until she finally gave up and dropped down beside you.

Without asking, she lifted your legs into her lap and started massaging your calves with strong, careful hands. You glanced at her, surprised.

"You’re always tense." She said quietly, not looking at you.

"Figured I’d help." You didn’t argue. The steady pressure of her thumbs felt too good. After a while, you put the book down and just watched her. The focused crease between her brows. The way her red hair fell into her face. The quiet gentleness she only seemed to show when it was just the two of you.

Natasha caught you staring and smirked, but it was softer than usual. She kept rubbing your legs long after they stopped aching, like she didn’t want to stop touching you.

There were other moments where natasha and you realized that this was beyond just benefits. Like the time where she helped you study. It was 2 a.m. You were at the kitchen table surrounded by flashcards, eyes burning. Natasha should’ve been asleep in her room, but she wandered out in an oversized hoodie and sat across from you.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stole one of your highlighters and started quizzing you in a low, patient voice. Every time you got an answer right, she’d give you a small, proud smile that made your stomach flip.

When you finally slumped forward in exhaustion, she stood up, came around the table, and pulled you into a hug from behind. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders, chin resting on your head.

"You’re gonna kill this exam." She murmured.

"But you need sleep, princess." You leaned back into her, letting yourself be held. In that moment, with her warmth surrounding you and the quiet of the dorm at night, you realized how much you craved her presence. Not just the sex. Her steadiness. The way she made the weight on your shoulders feel a little lighter.

Or the other time when you woke up to the sound of the door closing. Natasha had gone out early despite the cold and came back with two coffees. Yours made exactly how you liked it, with the right amount of oat milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. She set it on your nightstand and tried to sneak back out, but you caught her wrist.

"You didn’t have to." You said, voice still sleepy. Natasha shrugged, looking almost shy for once.

"I wanted to." She lingered in your doorway, watching as you took the first sip. The quiet fondness in her eyes made your heart do something dangerous. You wanted to pull her into your bed and hold her. You wanted to tell her how much these small things meant. Instead, you just smiled at her over the cup, and she smiled back. A smile that was small, real, and full of unspoken yearning.

Late November, you stormed into the shared living room after a long day and the sight made your jaw clench. Natasha’s protein shaker was tipped over on the counter, leaking across the surface. Her duffel bag had exploded near the couch, knee pads and shoes scattered. One of her hoodies was draped over the back of the chair you always used.

"Natasha! "you said sharply, setting your bag down.

" This is shared space. I’ve asked you so many times. I need things a certain way out here. I can’t keep cleaning up after you every single day-" She stepped out of her room, still in her tank top and shorts from practice, green eyes darkening the moment she heard your tone.

Instead of snapping back, she walked straight toward you with purpose. You expected her to kiss you roughly like usual, to turn the scolding into angry sex. But this time she stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her.

"Keep going." She murmured, voice low. "Tell me how much I’m ruining your perfect little world." You opened your mouth to continue the lecture, but the look in her eyes made the words die. There was hunger there, yes, but also something deeper. Something almost reverent.

She took your hand and pulled you into your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind her. The second you were inside, she lifted you onto your desk in one smooth motion. Your perfectly stacked planners, color coded notes, and highlighters went tumbling to the floor in a chaotic rainbow mess as she shoved them aside. The sight of your carefully controlled space being disrupted by her sent a shiver through you.Natasha kissed you deeply, hands sliding under your shirt, but she was slower than usual. More deliberate. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours.

"I want to fuck you with the strap tonight." She said quietly, voice rough."

"If you’ll let me." Your breath caught. You’d never let anyone do that before. It felt big. Vulnerable. Trusting someone that deeply with your body, especially Natasha, the girl whose chaos kept cracking your walls, was terrifying.

But you trusted her. You nodded, swallowing hard.

"Okay."  Natasha’s eyes softened for a moment, something like awe flickering across her face. She kissed you again, slower this time, like she understood what you were giving her. She took her time undressing you, kissing every new inch of skin she revealed. When you were naked on the desk, she grabbed the strap from where it had started living in your room and buckled it on carefully. Then she stepped between your spread thighs, slicking the thick toy.

"You sure?" She asked, voice gentler than you’d ever heard it during sex.

"Yes." You whispered, gripping the edge of the desk.

"I want it to be you." The trust in your voice made her exhale shakily. She pressed the head against your entrance and pushed in slowly, watching your face the entire time. You gasped at the stretch, fingers digging into her shoulders. Natasha stilled, letting you adjust, one hand stroking your thigh soothingly while the other brushed a curl from your face.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful." She breathed, voice strained with how much she was holding back. Once you nodded, she started moving, deep, rolling thrusts that gradually built in intensity. Every snap of her hips knocked more of your organized notes and planners to the floor, the chaos of her presence completely overtaking your control.

But you didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around her waist, pulling her deeper, moaning softly against her neck. The sex was heated, yes, her hips snapping harder as she got lost in it. But it was layered with something much more intimate. The eye contact. The way she whispered “I’ve got you” every time you gasped at a particularly deep thrust. The way her hands held you like you were precious.

You came hard around the strap, trembling in her arms, a broken moan of her name spilling from your lips. Natasha followed soon after, grinding deep and shuddering against you, burying her face in your neck.

Afterward, she stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing hard amid the scattered wreckage of your desk.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes dark and full of quiet wonder. The trust you’d just given her, letting her be the first to take you like that, hung heavy and beautiful between you. Neither of you said it out loud. But the feelings were there, growing stronger with every passing day, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

___

You and Natasha walked through the carnival, shoulders occasionally brushing. It was supposed to be a group hangout, but when Carol and Wanda coincidentally excused themselves because they had plans they'd forgotten about, it was just you and Natasha. You didn't mind it though, especially because you enjoyed being around her. As friends.

"Still can't believe you've never been to these things before." You shrugged.

"Never had the time."

"Well, now you do, so let's make sure you have fun princess." She wrapped an arm around your shoulders before guiding you further in. You melted into her embrace, especially when she pulled away and you still smelt like her perfume. The carnival was small but lively. Twinkling lights strung between booths, the distant screams from the Ferris wheel, and the smell of fried dough and popcorn in the cold night air.

Natasha kept stealing glances at you, her red hair peeking out from under a black beanie, green eyes bright under the colorful lights. First stop was the food stalls. Natasha insisted on buying you a massive stick of cotton candy. You laughed when she tore off a piece and tried to feed it to you, both of you giggling as the sugar melted on your tongues. She won a small stuffed keychain at the ring toss and immediately hooked it onto your bag.

"Souvenir." She said, smirking.

You retaliated by dragging her onto the Tilt-A-Whirl. She pretended to be unaffected the whole time, but when you got off she was a little green and dramatically leaned on you for support.

"You’re enjoying this way too much." She grumbled, but her arm stayed around your shoulders.

The real moment came at the basketball shootout booth. Natasha’s eyes lit up when she saw the giant prizes hanging above the counter  Especially the oversized, soft brown teddy bear with a red bow.

"Watch this." She said, cracking her knuckles with exaggerated confidence. You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with an amused smile. She paid for three shots and stepped up, rolling her shoulders like she was back on the volleyball court.

First shot, swish. Second shot, nothing but net. Third shot, she paused, glanced at you, then sank it perfectly. The guy running the booth looked shocked. Natasha just smirked, pointing up at the big bear.

"That one." He handed it over with a defeated sigh. Natasha turned to you, holding the giant teddy bear like it weighed nothing, her cheeks slightly pink from the cold and the small victory.

"Here." She said, pushing it into your arms.

"For my favorite control freak." You smacked your lips but accepted it gratefully.  You hugged the soft bear to your chest, half laughing, half melting. It was huge, almost as tall as your torso and ridiculously cute. But it wasn’t really about the bear.

It was the way Natasha watched you, green eyes soft and warm under the carnival lights. The quiet pride on her face. The way she’d gone out of her way to win it just to see you smile. You clutched the teddy bear tighter, butterflies exploding in your stomach.

"Thank you." You said softly, stepping closer until you could rest your forehead against her shoulder for a second.

"I love it." Natasha’s hand came up to rub your back, lingering there. She didn’t tease you this time. She just held you for a moment, the chaotic carnival noise fading into the background.

Later, as you walked back toward campus with the giant bear tucked under your arm (and Natasha’s arm around your waist), you kept stealing glances at her.

When you got to the apartment, you set the teddy bear down before being pulled into her arms. She kissed you softly, like you were made of glass and you wrapped your arms around her neck. Somehow you landed up on the couch. You both smoked in the living room with the window cracked and the fan on, laughing at nothing until the giggles faded into comfortable silence. The high settled deep, warm and floaty, lowering every defense you both usually kept up.

Somehow you ended up in the tiny shared bathroom, clothes already half off from making out against the wall. Natasha turned on the shower, and you both stepped under the hot spray together, bodies pressing close in the small space.

Water cascaded over you, your warm skin against her pale, athletic frame. Steam filled the air. Natasha had you pinned gently against the tiles, kissing you slow and deep, her hands sliding over your waist, your hips, your thighs. The high made every touch feel electric and endless. The laughter had died down. What was left was something heavier.

Natasha pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against yours. Water dripped from her red hair onto your shoulders. Her green eyes were dark, pupils blown, but the look in them wasn’t just lust anymore. It was soft. Adoring. Almost overwhelmed. She brushed a wet curl from your face with trembling fingers.

"I love you." She whispered, voice rough and raw under the sound of the water.

"Fuck, Y/N… I’m so in love with you it scares me." The words hung between you, real and terrifying. Your heart slammed against your ribs. You cupped her face with both hands, thumbs stroking her wet cheeks as you searched her eyes. The yearning you’d been feeling for weeks, the quiet pull every time she held you, every time she looked at you like you were more than just benefits, crashed over you all at once.

"I love you too." You breathed, voice shaking.

"I didn’t want to. I wasn’t supposed to fall this hard… but I’m so in love with you, Natasha." The kiss that followed was slow, deep, and full of everything you’d both been trying not to feel.

Hands roamed with new tenderness, not rushing toward sex, just touching, holding, memorizing. Natasha’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you impossibly closer under the spray. You clung to her like she might disappear.

You stayed in the shower until the water turned cold, trading soft kisses and quiet “I love you”s between shaky breaths, hearts racing with the terrifying, beautiful weight of what you’d just admitted.

When you finally stepped out, still wrapped in towels, skin damp and warm, you and Natasha stumbled into her bed, giggling and kissing like you couldn’t bear even an inch of space between you. The “I love you”s from the shower still echoed in the air, making everything feel electric and terrifyingly soft at the same time.

Natasha pulled you on top of her, hands sliding under your towel to caress your bare skin. The kiss deepened, slow and reverent, tongues brushing lazily. You could feel how much she was trembling, not from nerves, but from the weight of what you’d both just admitted.

"I love you." She whispered again against your lips, like she needed to taste the words.

"I love you too." You breathed, smiling into the kiss. She gently rolled you onto your back and settled between your legs, but instead of reaching for the strap or going down on you, she shifted higher. Her thigh pressed between yours as she hovered above you, red hair falling around both of you like a curtain.

"Can I…?" She asked softly, eyes searching yours.

"I want to feel all of you." You understood. You nodded, heart racing. Natasha lowered herself until your bodies aligned perfectly. It was wet, warm, and slick against each other. The first slide of her pussy against yours made you both gasp. She interlaced your fingers, pressing your hands into the mattress on either side of your head, holding you there as she started moving.

It was slow at first. Gentle rolls of her hips, grinding her clit against yours in a delicious, intimate rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, slick heat, perfect pressure, the way your bodies fit together so naturally. You looked up at her and couldn’t look away.

Natasha’s green eyes were locked on yours, full of so much love and awe it made your chest ache. Her lips were parted, cheeks flushed, red hair messy and damp. Every slow grind pulled soft, breathy moans from both of you.

"I love you." She whispered again, squeezing your hands tighter as she rolled her hips in a slow circle.

"So much."  You let out a shaky giggle, overwhelmed by how good it felt, how right it felt.

"I love you too… fuck, Nat-" She laughed softly too, the sound breaking into a moan when you tilted your hips up to meet her. The giggles turned into breathy, loving sounds as the pleasure built. Your fingers stayed tightly laced, thumbs stroking each other’s skin.

You couldn’t stop looking at each other.

Every roll of her hips, every slick slide of your clits together, every shared gasp, it was intimate in a way you’d never experienced before. Beautiful. Vulnerable. Full of love.

Natasha leaned down to kiss you, still moving, still grinding in that perfect rhythm. The kiss was messy and sweet, full of smiles and little giggles when your noses bumped or when the pleasure made you both tremble.

"You feel so good." She whispered against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours.

"I can’t believe you’re mine." You squeezed her hands harder, legs wrapping around her as the pressure built higher.

"I’m yours. All yours." The orgasm came slowly, beautifully, washing over both of you at nearly the same time. You came with a soft, broken moan, clenching and shuddering against her. Natasha followed right after, hips stuttering, a quiet “I love you” spilling from her lips as she trembled above you. You stayed like that for a long time afterward, foreheads pressed together, fingers still intertwined, breathing each other in. Soft giggles bubbled up between lazy kisses as the high and the afterglow mixed together.

Later, while music played softly from the speaker in your room, Natasha held you in her arms, fingers drawing lazy patterns onto your skin.

"I wasn't always like this you know." You mumbled before untucking your head from her neck. Natasha never stopped drawing patterns but her focus shifted to you.

"One morning I'd been late to school because I spent the night before prepping for this debate tournament, nationals actually." You paused then continued.

"I panicked but my dad said he didn't mind dropping them off for me. He left work, picked them up but..." Your voice cracked.

"He got into an accident and died on the spot." Natasha stopped drawing but she held you tighter.

"If I had just stuck to my usual routine, stuck to the order that I know instead of just...he still could've been alive."

"Y/n..." Natasha started but you shook your head.

"I know, it's not my fault but the thought never leaves my head. He saved people you know, traveled the world to help sick families. If only I'd been careful enough, I could've saved him too." You let out a dry chuckle.

"It's why I'm studying medicine too. I don't know, maybe if I save other people's lives, it will somewhat fill the hole of taking his life."

"I started hurting myself after that. But even that wasn't enough... That's why I love having things in order so much. Control is good, safe. Things don't get taken away if they're planned. B-but with you, you just bring this chaos. You make me feel like I don't have to suffocate with this persona." She wiped the tears that had fallen down your cheek away as you continued to talk.

"I never wanted to let anyone else in because I'm scared of having someone I love so deeply get taken away from me. But you and your cocky self managed to break in." Natasha let out her own laugh, soft and warm. She let out a soft sigh before looking up at the ceiling.

"My family isn't so great either. Dad was never present, moms an alcoholic who had two children and we were barely getting by." She paused and looked down at you, as if she couldn't believe that she was actually telling someone about this.

"I was always the stronger one you know. Had to raise my sister and practically keep my mother from spiraling too. She wasn't abusive or anything but it's hard caring for other people when you don't even have the capacity to care for yourself. I wasn't that smart in school either but I had these killer legs. " You laughed despite the tears sitting in your eyes.

"In middle school, I worked at some shops just to be able to afford secondhand spikes. They weren't quality but I turned them into something great. In high school I was luckier, I had this coach who believed in me. Bought me my real first pair of spikes. Even though they barely fit me, I still keep them with me to remember why I'm here."

"Are those the blue ones hanging on your walls?" You asked and she nodded.

"Yeah. Coach always said I'd go far. But he also said I'd have to let go and let someone in. Never believed him. That was until I met you." You didn't say anything but you tucked your head back underneath her chin. She held you closer, as if she were trying to become one with you. And you let her, because in this room, it was just the two of you existing in this messy thing you called life.

___

2026

The sound of footsteps nearing the door had your heart slamming against your ribs. Eventually the door open and you were met with the redhead standing in sweats and a black top. She looked unfairly good but you pushed that down.

"Hey." You gave her a short nod and she opened her door wider, letting you step inside.

"I'm glad you said yes."

"Cut the small talk Natasha. We're just here to film." Natasha flinched at the use of her full name laced with venom. It sounded so wrong coming from you but she nodded before scratching the back of her neck.

"I set up in my bedroom." You let Natasha lead you through her off campus apartment into her bedroom before setting your bag down.

You stripped out of your jeans and sweater, until you were just in pink underwear. Natasha had been fidgeting with the camera settings until she saw your body. The sight alone was able to send a wave of heat down her body but it also brought back ugly and unwanted memories. She swallowed the thoughts down before pressing record.

You both had eventually agreed to film one last video together. After the breakup, you hadn't exactly deleted the page you created together. The breakup was too messy to even approach this conversation so you left the site up.

Six months after the breakup you finally gathered the courage to log back in. It felt like a knife was being twisted inside of your heart as you replayed a video. It wasn't out of lust, no. This was from the intimacy of the videos. Watching the way Natasha held you, caressed you touched you, fucked you, made love to you, brought so much pain to you because she left. After building something so beautiful, she packed up her things and left as if all of what you'd built together was just a phase. You remember getting so wasted that night, that you almost sent her a drunken text about how she fucked you over. But that ended with your head inside of the toilet throwing up from the thought of speaking to her again. Not even the alcohol could destroy you the way she did.

Two month later, you went back and released a video alone. It made money yeah but the comments were the same.

Where's Natasha?

Did you guys break up?

Bring back red, you two were so amazing together.

You wanted to log off and delete the account then but you didn't. And now, almost a year and a half after the breakup, you were sitting on your heartbreakers bed.

You two eventually fucked. When her hands first touched you, it felt like coming back home after a long holiday. She made you feel good, you moaned for the camera, had your share of orgasms, gave Natasha hers, allowed her to fuck you with the strap but never in missionary and cow girl. Anything that avoided prolonged eye contact (even though that had been your favorite back then).

After the both of you had your last orgasm, you let her kiss you and praise you, but that was all for the camera (fans loved the aftercare that she provided. It was rare to see and that's what made you two such a hit). After that you got up and got dressed. Natasha watched you but you could tell there was a lot on her mind that she wanted to say.

"I'll post it tonight. Whatever comes in we split 50/50." You'd explained after slinging your bag onto your shoulder.

"You seriously won't talk to me?"

" You did all of the talking back then. I have nothing to say to you. Delete my number and forget about me." You left her apartment after that but you both knew that this was far from over.

___

The fans loved the video. Comments begged to have more. And when Natasha sent another text.

Natasha

Money was good. We could film another one.

She was right, the money was so good, you were able to get the new edition of Gray's Anatomy for Students for medical school.

___

It was sophomore year of college. Both you and Natasha were lucky enough to get another shared suite. And the first thing you both did was christen the entire suite.

"I missed you so fucking much during summer break." She whispered against your lips, hands already picking you up and placing you onto the kitchen counter.

"Loved those photos and videos that you sent." She murmured, lips sucking against her neck, you moaned but when Natasha tried to push you further onto the countertop, you paused.

"How clean is this surface?" You dodged her kiss turning around to assess the counter top Natasha placed you on.

Natasha only sighed in a mixture of sexual frustration and love.

"I'm sorry Nat but you're not about to fuck me on a dirty surface." Natasha whined as you climbed off and sauntered over to get cleaning products in your bedroom.

"The sooner you help me, the sooner I get to show you lingerie I got!" Natasha practically ran into the room to help you after that. Your new home was a mixture of both of you. Natasha seldom left her things around anymore but you still lectured her most days. She let you just because she knew it would end up with you gripping the nearest surface while her head was in between your thighs.

The relationship blossomed beautifully. You two even had polaroid pictures of one another behind your phone case after Wanda had sneakily taken one with her camera. You got the picture of the two of you kissing while Natasha got the one of the two of you looking so lovesick, it was disgusting.

"For your crazy kids someday." She remarked after handing you the two copies.

You walked around on campus during the day and at night, holding hands and talking about nothing and everything. You pulled her into study sessions at the library that started with either of you testing one another on your modules and ended with the two of you sneakily making out in the section tucked far away that no one visited while her hand slowly made it's way up your thigh. Most times you'd swat her hand away but it would end up inside you anyway, Natasha watching you with this smitten look.

Some nights, after coming back home late from a study session with friends, you'd slip into her bed and watch her sleep. The sight alone was able to ground you but recently she had this habit of faking sleep just to scare you.

"Boo!" You shrieked and threw your head back in frustration as Natasha poked your stomach.

"What the fuck Nat?! Stop that!" Natasha only chuckled in response to your reaction.

"Stop watching me sleep you weirdo." You'd shove her head back when she leaned in for a kiss but that only ended with your legs wrapped around her shoulders while her mouth was in between your thighs telling you that she'd rather watch you cum instead.

On a whim, you had posted a video on tiktok about you and Natasha. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the two of you lip syncing to some new trending song while her hands roamed around your waist. It was harmless really but it started getting people's attention.

You wouldn't say that you and Natasha are the typical "tiktok" couple but watching the two of you do some trend or lip sync or even just harmlessly post one another was really something people enjoyed watching one of the videos that had gotten a lot of attention was the one where couples were sitting in a car and trying some takeout.  Now neither of you had a car but that didn't stop you. Instead, you'd set up your phone in your room (because yours was the aesthetic and Natasha's room was a mess).

The video was simple. You recorded the two of you holding up different things taking bites and sharing the foods. But then it would fade to the two of you making out. The first kiss was soft. Natasha leaned in, cupping your jaw as she kissed you softly. It was slow, sweet, and intimate  your eyes fluttering closed, one hand resting on her thigh. You smiled into the kiss before pulling back. You both continued eating like nothing happened. The second one was much hotter.

Natasha had her hand fisted in your curls, kissing you hard. You bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it visibly between your teeth. Natasha groaned into your mouth, the sound low and rough. The kiss was aggressive, needy, her free hand gripping your thigh tightly. When you finally pulled back, her lip was red and slightly swollen.

You both turned back to the camera, a little breathless.

"These spicy dumplings are no joke." You said, voice slightly husky.

"Super flavorful. 9/10 from me." Natasha licked her bitten lip.

"Yeah… really fucking good. 9.5."

The third and final one faded in with you already straddling Natasha’s lap. You were kissing her deeply, her hands resting on your hips as she tilted her head to kiss you harder. It was slow, passionate, and full of heat. Soft sounds escaping as your bodies moved subtly together. You pulled back just enough to look at her, both of you smiling against each other’s lips.

You turned toward the camera, still in her lap.

"Overall verdict?" You said, a little flushed.

"This place is a strong 9.5 out of 10. We’re ordering from here again for sure."  Natasha looked straight into the lens, one hand still possessively on your thigh.

"Highly recommend." She added, voice low and satisfied.

"10/10 experience." The video ended with both of you smiling at the camera, the takeout boxes scattered around you.

The soft moments mixed with the heated ones and the way you two looked at each other like no one else existed, made the fans lose their minds in the comments. Comments varied, some calling you a cute couple or something alike. While some were bolder and friskier.

"Drop the twitter"

"Can we watch"

You remember the night you'd shown the comments to Natasha. You were laying on top of her, scrolling through the comments before showing her your phone. She just laughed.

"I mean we'd look good." The topic ended there.

But the love for filming intensified. There was something so satisfying about filming your sexual activities. She'd hold the phone while taking you from behind. There was something so tantalizing about her pale hand gripping onto your ass, hips pounding hard enough to send your ass rippling like water. You'd moan into the pillow hands gripping the pillow while throwing your ass back to meet her thrusts.

"You look so fucking good baby. Throw that ass back f'me, yeah just like that." You'd moan in response.

"Tell me how deep I'm in baby."

"So f...deep." Natasha slapped your ass, spurring you on.

"Yeah? Feel my cock deep in your pussy?"

"Feel you everywhere, in my stomach." She fastened her pace, the new strap hitting deeper inside of your pussy. You came fast, the sound of your melodic moans sending Natasha into her own orgasm.

Your filmed videos varied like that. Either you'd record her in between your legs, sucking and fingering you while talking filthy to the camera. Or her in between your legs shoulders propped onto her shoulders as you gripped the counter top. She'd kiss down your thighs, lick your leg kiss a toe then go back to sucking in between your clit. Other videos ranged between you fingering her, riding her cowgirl or even of the two of you touching yourselves in front of her. But your videos weren't the only thing growing.

The love and vulnerability between you two grew too. After she'd come back from a horrible athlete tournament, third place, though it was good, Natasha screwed up the last run and was almost disqualified.

You ran her a bath, let her soak before giving her a massage. You then spent a long time just massaging her legs, focusing on the calves and quads.

"You're good no matter what Nat. You're the best runner I know. " You'd praise. You worked slow circles into the knot in her calf before moving to her hamstring.

"Relax." You murmured, lifting her leg into a passive hamstring stretch.

That night Natasha let go and let you fuck her with the strap. The sight of he laying back, red hair spilled across the pillow as you thrust into her filled your heart with so much warmth.

"You're so beautiful Nat." She pulled you in for a kiss and came with you playing with her tits while kissing her deeply.

That night you laid together, listening to the shared Playlist you made together. Natasha's eyes were filled with love as she mindlessly played with your curls.

"Falling in love with you is like discovering a new favorite song. Every time I think I've heard the best part, I listen again... and somehow find another reason to love it." She whispered. You stared at her.

"...What?" Natasha smiled sheepishly.

"I said falling in love with you is like finding a new favorite song." Your heart felt impossibly full. You searched her face as if trying to figure out how someone could say something so effortlessly beautiful.

"That's... " You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"Probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." Natasha's cheeks flushed.

"Yeah?" You slipped your arms around her waist.

"Yeah."

___

The first fight was over something stupid really. It was after you agreed to meet Natasha after your last class of the day (where you had to write an exam about statistics which you weren't really succeeding. So you really expected Natasha to be there because she knew what this meant to you.

You checked your phone for the twelfth time in fifteen minutes. Nothing. No text. No missed call. Just the lock screen staring back at you with an empty notification bar. Students poured out of the lecture hall in clusters, laughing as they made plans for the afternoon. One by one, the crowd around you began to thin.

You stayed where you were. Natasha had promised she'd be here.

"You waiting for someone?" You looked over at one of your classmates.

"Yeah."

"They're running late?"

"...I guess." Another five minutes passed.

Then twenty. You sighed, slipping your phone back into your pocket. Maybe she'd forgotten. The thought stung more than you cared to admit. Just as you turned to leave, a familiar voice called your name.

"There you are." You looked up.

Natasha jogged toward you, her track bag slung carelessly over one shoulder. A sheen of sweat clung to her forehead, and her hair had almost completely escaped its ponytail.

"Sorry." She said between breaths. "Practice ran over." You stared at her.

"You could've texted."

"I know."

"You said you'd be here."

"I did." Another pause. Natasha rubbed the back of her neck.

"Coach kept us longer than expected."

You waited. She didn't say anything else. No apology. No acknowledgment that you'd been standing there for almost forty minutes wondering where she was. Instead, she flashed that easy grin.

"C'mon." You didn't move. She frowned.

"What?"

"I waited for you."

"I know."

"And?" Natasha shrugged.

"It wasn't a big deal." Silence.

The smile slipped from her face the second she saw yours.

"It wasn't..." you repeated quietly.

"I mean-"

"It wasn't a big deal?"

"No, that's not what I-"

"You made me wait nearly forty minutes."

"I got held up."

"I know that."

"Then why are you mad?"

You let out a short laugh. Not because anything was funny. Because you couldn't believe she was missing the point.

"I'm not mad because you were late."

"Then-"

"I'm mad because you couldn't take ten seconds to tell me."

Natasha opened her mouth. Closed it.

"I was busy."

"You were too busy to send one text?"

"I just forgot." The words landed harder than either of you expected. Forgot. You looked away first.

"If it's not a big deal to you..." You adjusted your bag onto your shoulder.

"Then I don't really have anything else to say."

"Hey-" You walked past her. She reached for your wrist. You slipped out of reach before she could touch you.

For the first time since you'd met her you left Natasha Romanoff standing there alone.

___

The apartment had never been so quiet. Usually, one of you always had something to say.

A joke. A complaint about assignments. An argument over whose turn it was to do the dishes.

Now:

"Morning."

"Mhm."

"You heading to class?"

"Yep."

"...Okay." Natasha watched your bedroom door click shut. She hated it. She hated how you wouldn't even look at her.

By lunchtime she'd already sent three messages.

Nat 🕷️

Still mad?

Nat 🕷️

I'm sorry.

Nat 🕷️

Can we talk?

You'd read every single one from the notification preview. You never opened the chat. That somehow felt worse.

The next morning, another knock sounded against your bedroom door. You ignored it. A second knock. And then you heard her voice.

"I brought a peace offering." Silence.

"It's coffee." Nothing.

"And one of those stupid blueberry muffins you always complain are overpriced but still buy." Your hand froze halfway through zipping your backpack.

"Go away."

"I'd rather not." You opened the door. Natasha stood there holding a takeaway tray in one hand and a small paper bag in the other.

"You look tired."

"I slept fine."

"Liar." You reached for the coffee. Natasha pulled it back.

"Not until you hear me out." You narrowed your eyes.

"You're annoying."

"I've been told." You folded your arms.

"Talk."The confidence she'd worn so effortlessly for the last two days disappeared. She looked... nervous.

"I was wrong." You stayed silent.

"I should've texted." Silence.

"I knew you were waiting for me." Another pause.

"And I made you feel like... like it didn't matter." Your expression softened but only slightly. Natasha took a careful step closer.

"I wasn't thinking."

"No." You said quietly.

"You weren't." She nodded.

"I know."

"I kept checking my phone."

"I know."

"I thought maybe you'd forgotten about the fact that I needed you." Her face fell.

"I didn't."

"I know that now." Another silence settled between you. This one wasn't angry. Just honest.

"You hurt my feelings, Nat." The words came out smaller than you'd intended. Natasha's shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry." No excuses. No jokes. No trying to make you laugh. Just two words.

"I'm really sorry." You looked at the coffee again. Then at her.

"You got my order right?" A tiny smile tugged at Natasha's lips.

"Extra caramel."

"And?"

"Oat milk."

"And?"

"No whipped cream." You took the cup from her hand.

"Good." Natasha let out the breath she'd been holding.

"So..."

"So?"

"Am I forgiven?"

You took a long sip before answering.

"You're on probation." She laughed.

"I can work with probation." You tried to keep your face straight. You really did.

But the corner of your mouth betrayed you. Natasha caught it immediately.

"There it is."

"What?"

"That smile."

"I'm not smiling."

"You are."

"I'm literally not."

"You absolutely are." You rolled your eyes, finally looking at her properly for the first time in two days.

"Shut up." Natasha smiled back. god, she'd missed hearing you say that.

___

You woke up to Natasha’s warm body curled around yours, her arm slung over your waist and her face buried in your neck. For a moment you just stayed there, soaking in the quiet comfort of her breathing against your skin. Then reality hit. It was a Tuesday. Your birthday. And you had an 8 AM lecture.

You pressed a soft kiss to her lips, smiling when she sleepily kissed you back.

"Gotta go." You whispered.

"See you later."

Natasha mumbled something incoherent and pulled you closer for one more kiss before letting you slip out of bed. You got ready quickly, leaving her dozing under the covers, and headed out without making a big deal about the day. Birthdays had never been special. They were just another weekday.

The second the door closed, Natasha was wide awake. She’d been planning this for weeks. Under her bed was a plain cardboard box she’d been secretly filling. She pulled it out and spent the next few hours arranging everything with more care than she’d ever admit to. It was nothing expensive, just things she knew you’d love. She got you a stack of your favorite snacks (including the weird spicy chips you pretended not to like but always stole from her), a soft oversized black hoodie she’d "borrowed" from the athletics store because she knew you liked wearing her clothes, a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny star charm, a new sleek black grinder, and a small bag of good weed flower she’d saved up for.

But the part that took the longest, the part she was most nervous about, were the flowers.

Natasha sat cross legged on her bed for almost three hours, tongue poking out in concentration, twisting colorful pipe cleaners into little flowers. Her fingers ached. Some of them came out crooked. A few petals were lopsided. But she kept going, making a small, imperfect bouquet in your favorite colors. When she was done, she put them in an empty mug and set everything on your desk with a simple handwritten note:

“You deserve to feel special today. Happy Birthday, princess. From Nat”

She wasn’t cocky about it. No smirk. No teasing. She just wanted you to feel loved on a day you’d told her once meant nothing.

You came back from your afternoon classes exhausted and expecting nothing. You pushed open the door and stopped dead in your tracks. The living room was softly lit. On your desk sat a wrapped box and the most ridiculous, colorful bouquet of pipe cleaner flowers you’d ever seen. Natasha stood in the middle of the room, hands in her hoodie pockets, looking almost nervous. Her usual cocky energy was completely gone. She just looked at you with soft green eyes, waiting.

"Happy birthday. " She said quietly. You walked over slowly, picking up one of the pipe cleaner flowers. It was messy and imperfect and so obviously made by her hands that your throat tightened.

"You made these?" You asked, voice small.

"Took me three hours." She admitted with a shy little laugh.

"They’re kinda ugly, but… I wanted to make you something myself." You opened the box next. Every single item inside hit you right in the chest. The hoodie. The bracelet. The snacks. The new grinder and weed. All chosen because she knew you. Because she’d been paying attention. Tears welled up before you could stop them.

Natasha stepped forward and pulled you into her arms without hesitation. She held you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your back.

"I know birthdays aren’t a big thing for you." She murmured into your hair.

"But I wanted this one to be different. You deserve to be celebrated, Y/N. You deserve someone who notices the little things and wants to make you smile."

You hugged her back fiercely, burying your face in her neck as a few tears slipped free.

"No one’s ever done anything like this for me." You whispered, voice thick.

Natasha held you even tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Well, get used to it." She said softly. "Because I’m gonna make sure every birthday from now on feels like you matter." You stayed wrapped up in her for a long time, the pipe cleaner flowers and thoughtful box on the desk behind you. For the first time in years, your birthday didn’t feel like just another day. It felt like love. Real, warm, and beautifully overwhelming.

___

2026

You don't know how you let yourself be roped back into her bed, but here you were, moaning and letting Natasha fuck you like old times. The camera caught everything. The way she pulled you closer just to bury her mouth in between her legs, how your fingers pulled her hair, pulling her impossibly closer, or how she kissed your thighs like she still had the control to do that. And you let her, because part of you really wanted to reminisce about the good times. About what used to be. About her...

When you were done, you got dressed like you usually did after this.

"You posted another video of yourself." She started, you paused. Then she spoke and you almost didn't hear her.

"It was beautiful." Another pause.

"I miss you." You clenched your jaw, fighting the emotions down.

"You don't get to do that."

"Y/n, at least talk to me. Please, just give me a chance to talk." The laugh you let out was so bitter it made Natasha flinch.

"Why won't you just give me a chance to talk y/n, please I'm begging you. Baby I'm begging you."

"Why?!" You finally turned to look at Natasha. She looked devastated.

___

2025

The rain thrummed violently against the window to your shared off campus apartment. The sound should have been grounding you at this moment but your kind was a storm. And your heart? It was raging from unshed tears and unsaid words.

Lately things with Natasha were extremely rocky. It was like you were treading on thin ice. At first you chalked it up to her grad school applications and her regional tournament. But you were starting to believe it was more than that.

Natasha was distant, quiet and guarded. You tried to talk to her but it either ended in a fight where she'd leave and come back smelling like alcohol or with the two of you fucking before going to sleep facing the walls. That's not what you wanted. You wanted your Natasha back. But she was so gone.

Even the sex, it was still good but she barely paid attention to you anymore. She wouldn't look at you with those adoring eyes anymore, now it was filled with anger. Not to you, never to you. But you still felt it. Either that or she'd stare into the distance. She'd fuck you like she was trying to punish you for something you didn't do, then slip into bed without giving you the aftercare you emotionally needed.

That's how you found yourself sitting on the countertop. The food you'd cooked had gone cold and the lingerie piece you'd bought sat untouched underneath your robe. Natasha was late. Again. You'd tolerated the countless of times she was late back then but on your fourth anniversary?? You'd drawn the line there.

Natasha stepped into the apartment, hair and clothes soaked before throwing her bag down onto the floor. She took her spikes off and set them aside before turning to find you waiting for her.

"Oh. I thought I told you you didn't have to wait up."

"Seriously?" You exclaimed. She sighed in annoyance.

"Y/n, please don't start this right now, I'm not in the mood."

"Bullshit Natasha, you're never in the mood anymore!" You hopped down, robe slipping off your shoulder and she noticed.

"Okay are we gonna fuck or what because I'd rather get to that now."

You shook your head, tears blinding your vision.

"What's today Nat huh? Tell me." She paused and frowned.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You laughed.

"It's our fucking anniversary Nat!" You watched the realization hit her before she spoke.

"I forgot."

"Yes, like you're forgetting everything else about me. Natasha I haven't seen or spoke to you properly for more than two weeks. You're just-"

"Don't do that bullshit now y/n! What... have you been secretly writing this in your little planners? Have you been waiting to throw this in my face? I'm busy y/n, I'm sorry I don't have time to entertain you like I could when we were fucking nineteen years old."

"I'm not asking for a lot. All I'm asking for is for my girlfriend to kiss me on the cheek and fuck me like I actually matter to her." You raised your voice and she shook her head.

The fight escelated.

"I can't keep carrying this relationship on my back Nat. It's like I'm the only one in this relationship. It's fucking one sided.. I love you Natasha I really do but I can't suffocate like this anymore. Do you even love me?"

"I never asked you to carry us y/n, you put that on yourself. I'm not some fucking thing you can organize and fix to be in your perfect life."

"I never said that I wanted you to be perfect, I just want you to be present! Are you even fucking listening to me or am I just some body you get to fuck and leave huh? Cause I'm so convenient for you the moment you want us to film a video and get money but then you're back to drinking and acting like I don't exist. " It sounded ugly, but you had been feeling like that for a while now.

"I have family shit okay y/n! My families fucking breaking apart and I've got no one or nothing to keep me from fucking spiraling." You froze, by now the tears were falling freely.

"Then talk to me baby, please. I want to help you but you need to let me in."

"I don’t need you to fix me, Y/N. Stop trying to organize my trauma like it’s a fucking syllabus." That stung.

"I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to love you. But you won’t let me. You fuck me, you laugh with me on camera, but the second it gets real, you shut down."

Natasha stood, voice cold with that old cocky edge sharpened by pain.

"Maybe we were always better as a show. Hot couple on campus OnlyFans. Perfect on TikTok. In real life? You need order. I bring chaos. We’re ruining each other."

You cried. She didn’t. Words flew, accusations about her emotional unavailability, your rigidity. She accused you of no understanding family. Like the time you two fought about Natasha just giving her mom the some money from cash she'd been saving up for after college. You retaliated buy saying she never let you in. How she only told you half truths. Like the time she pulled away early senior year.

Her mom had a bad relapse. Overdose scare that landed her in the hospital. Yelena called in a panic at 2 a.m., and Natasha drove six hours without telling you the full story. She came back three days later, hollow eyed and closed off. Practice became her escape. She’d return to the apartment late, smelling like sweat and exhaustion, and the sex turned into what it did. The angry, distant, missionary with her eyes fixed on the wall while she thrust into you like she was punishing the helplessness she felt.

And still you gave her all of you but now she couldn't even give one bit of herself to you.

"You want me to spill every ugly detail so you can organize it into neat little boxes? Fix me like one of your fucking syllabi?" Her voice rose.

"My mom almost died again last week, Yelena’s spiraling, and I’m supposed to what, come home and play perfect girlfriend while pretending I’m not drowning? You have no idea what that pressure feels like."

"I don’t?” Your voice cracked, tears burning behind your eyes.

"I’ve been carrying us for months, Natasha. Planning around your moods, making excuses for why you’re distant, waiting up after your ‘family calls’ like some pathetic side character in your chaos. I love you. I loved planning a future with you. But you look at me during sex like I’m not even there anymore. Do you know how that felt? To feel invisible to the person who used to make me feel seen?" The words hung heavy. Natasha’s jaw clenched, her athletic frame rigid.

"You need everything perfect and scheduled. I bring mess. I ruin things. Maybe I should just stop pretending I can be what you want."  That broke something in you.

"You’re a coward." You whispered, voice shaking with hurt and fury. Tears spilled over now, hot on your cheeks.

"You’re using your family as an excuse to run. I never asked you to be perfect. I just asked you to let me in. To stay. But you’d rather fuck me like an escape and leave me picking up the pieces than actually love me back the way I deserve."

Natasha flinched like you’d hit her. For a second, her eyes softened, regret flashing through the anger, but she doubled down, voice low and final.

"Then maybe stop waiting for me to be someone I’m not." She turned away, grabbing her duffel bag from the closet.

"I’m done ruining your perfect order." You froze.

"Baby please don't do this." But Natasha continued packing as if you weren't standing there. She packed her protein shakers, spikes a few clothes and other necessities. Every movement felt like another crack in your chest.  At the door, she paused, hand on the knob, red hair curtaining half her face.

"I did love you." She said quietly, without turning around.

"Still do. That’s why I have to leave."

The door clicked shut behind her.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t collapse right away. You just stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling the silence press in like a weight. The apartment, once shared chaos and love, felt too big, too empty, too perfectly organized without her mess disrupting it. Your chest ached with a hollow pain that made it hard to breathe. Tears came in waves as you sank onto the couch, pulling your knees up. She’d chosen her walls. Her family ghosts. Her escape.

And you? You were left with the brutal truth. Loving Natasha Romanoff had been the most beautiful, terrifying disruption of your life. Now it was over, and you had to rebuild your order around the giant hole she’d left behind.

You cried until your eyes were raw. Then you got up, wiped your face, and started reorganizing the apartment the next morning, erasing every trace of her while your heart stayed shattered.

You blocked Natasha after that then deleted your number, but you couldn't log into that account. Not yet at least.

The weeks after the breakup were hell on a shared campus. You threw yourself into your pre-med grind harder than ever, color coded schedules, extra lab hours, anything to avoid the places where Natasha might appear. But it was impossible. The university was big, but your worlds overlapped too much.

The first run in happened three days after she moved out. You were grabbing coffee at the student union when she walked in with two track teammates. Your eyes locked across the room. Natasha froze mid step, green eyes widening with raw guilt before she schooled it into that old neutral mask. You turned away first, heart hammering, and walked out without your drink. Your hands shook the entire way back to your apartment.

You spent the entire night sitting on the shower floor crying and watching blood run down the drain. The blade was left on the bathroom counter but the pain remained in your heart.

You could no longer function anymore. It was as if your body was on autopilot. You couldn't listen to music anymore, that just reminded you of Natasha. Getting high was no longer an option anymore because the high only brought back memories. So many of them that you ended up hurling your guts out before curling into a ball and crying. Your apartment became a mess. What was once neat and organized became untidy. Back then you would've cleaned it but now you just sat in the chaos because at least then you could be reminded of Natasha.

And having shared friends made it worse.  Your friend group had basically fused over the years. Mutual friends from parties, late night study sessions, and track tournaments. The first group hangout after the split was brutal.

It was a casual bonfire at someone’s off campus house. You almost didn’t go, but you refused to let her exile you from your people. Natasha was already there when you arrived, red hair loose, wearing the black hoodie you used to steal. She was laughing at something a teammate said, but the moment she saw you, the laugh died.

You sat on the opposite side of the fire, surrounded by friends who were visibly uncomfortable. The group chat had been suspiciously quiet about "the situation." Conversations felt forced. Someone tried to tell a story from sophomore year involving both of you, then trailed off awkwardly.

Natasha’s eyes kept finding yours across the flames, heavy, regretful, full of everything she wouldn’t say. You hated how much you still wanted to walk over and touch her. You hated even more that she looked like she wanted the same. When you got up to leave early, she followed you to the edge of the yard.

"Y/n-"

"Don’t." Your voice was ice.

"You made your choice. Live with it." She didn’t follow after that.

You saw her everywhere. At the athletics center when you cut through to get to the library. She’d be coming out of practice, sweaty and flushed, duffel bag over her shoulder. Sometimes she’d nod. Sometimes she’d just watch you walk by with that haunted look. In the dining hall. One time you were with friends and she was two tables away.

At mutual friends’ birthdays. One party got especially messy when someone who was too drunk asked loudly.

"So when are you two getting back together? The chemistry was insane." You left. Natasha stayed and got wasted. She ended up in someone else's bed but even then she felt distant and hollow.

"You should talk to whoever it is." The girl said the next morning.

"What are you talking about?"

"Whoever she was, she's clearly still haunting you." Natasha let the girl out of her apartment but five minutes later she had a bottle of alcohol in her hand, stating at the polaroid Wanda once too of the two of you as if she could teleport back to that day, just to feel you in her arms again. She spent the day crying and went back to the shared account just to see your face again.

You both kept up appearances. Natasha threw herself harder into track practice and grad school applications. You buried yourself in research and solo content that paid the bills but felt hollow. The OnlyFans account stayed dormant, neither of you posted anything couple related, and fans noticed the silence.

The pain was constant but quiet. You missed her in the small ways. No more protein shakes magically appearing, no cocky texts making you roll your eyes, no warm body disrupting your perfectly made bed. Some nights you’d stare at old TikToks (private now) and cry. Other nights you’d fuck yourself with the vibrator she’d left behind, hating how you whispered her name when you came.

Natasha looked like shit for a while too, thinner, quieter, the cocky energy dimmed. Mutual friends said she wasn’t dating anyone. She wasn’t even hooking up. Just… existing. You both became experts at polite distance. Civil nods in public. Short, surface level conversations when forced by group settings. Never alone. Never touching. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

Even at her big track tournament. Natasha had do drag herself there. She wasn't even excited to run but she had to because her scholarship was riding on it, and with her grades slipping, she couldn't afford another mishap.

Natasha was anxious as she tied the laces to her spikes up. She scanned the crowd, half expecting to find you there. And to her surprise you were. You guys locked eyes, her heart stuttered but then you looked away. It hurt but you still showed up. And that pushed Natasha to run like her life depended on it.

She won first place but it felt hollow. Because even when cheerleaders, friends and teammates surrounded her to congratulate her, she wanted nothing more than your attention. For you to be running down and throwing yourself in her hands, exclaiming that you were proud of her while wearing her jacket and kissing her face.

But when she looked back at the bleachers, you were already gone.

___

2026

"Fuck you Natasha. You don't get to come into my life and expect everything to go back to the way it was." Natasha flinched but she stood stronger.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I need you y/n. I miss you. I thought it would be better to be our own people but fuck..." She paused and rubbed her neck.

"I'm not even a person without you."

___

It was hard it really was but you two missed one another. You agreed to meet up at a coffee shop. One coffee just to talk and no funny business. She looked ecstatic when you told her that.

That's how you ended up fixing things with one another again. It took some time, a lot of time but soon enough you two were falling in love again. You didn't just fall back into her arms again. You made Natasha earn you. If she wanted you that badly then she'd earn you, fight for you, love you the way you deserved.

And it worked. You two ended up dating five months later. You went on for two years. It was like falling in love all over again. It was beautiful, messy and fragile but with Natasha it all felt worth it. The next two years were genuinely good. You graduated pre-med and started med school. Natasha finished her degree and took a coaching job at a local club while figuring out her future. You moved into a nicer apartment together. There were trips, lazy mornings with coffee and Luna demanding breakfast, passionate nights where she still fucked you like she needed you more than air, and quiet ones where you just held each other.

You even filmed a few more videos together, not for the money anymore, but because the trust had returned and it felt fun again. But something was… off. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no massive fights like senior year. No distance.  And yet it never quite reached the effortless magic you both remembered from freshman, sophomore and junior year. You were both trying so hard, too hard, to make it what it used to be. The nostalgia became weight instead of warmth. You were in love with the memory of each other as much as the real person in front of you. Stuck. You two loved each other but you weren't in love anymore.

The final conversation happened after a quiet fight. It started over something small, you reorganizing the kitchen again because her post practice mess triggered old anxieties, and her snapping that she felt like she was always walking on eggshells in your “perfect” space. It escalated into the living room, voices raised but not screaming.

"I feel like I’m failing you again." Natasha said, running a hand through her red hair. She looked tired.

"Like no matter how much I try, I can’t give you that version of us you remember." You sat on the couch, Luna jumping into your lap like she sensed the shift. Your chest ached.

"I feel the same." You admitted, voice cracking.

"I love you. I really do. You’re still the only person who makes me feel this alive. But… it’s not working the way we want it to. We’re both holding on because the love is real, but we’re not the same people who fell in love in that freshman dorm. I keep waiting for it to feel like it did back then, and I think you are too." Natasha sat beside you, careful not to crowd Luna. She took your hand, the touch still familiar, still warm.

" I keep thinking if I just try harder, get better at the family stuff, stop bringing any chaos… it’ll click again." She said quietly.

"But that’s not fair to either of us. I love you enough to admit this isn’t what we both deserve anymore. We’re good together. But we’re not right anymore."

Tears slipped down your cheeks. Luna purred loudly, pressing against your stomach as if offering comfort.

"I hate this." You whispered.

"But I think you’re right. We’ve been trying to recreate something beautiful instead of building something new. And it’s exhausting us both." You talked for hours that night. Really talked. About the good times (freshman year stoner giggles in the shower, the way she used to make you laugh until your sides hurt, the electric chemistry that started it all). About the pain (senior year, the breakup, the campus ghosts). About how much you’d both grown.

By the end, you were curled against her, Luna between you like a fluffy mediator, both of you crying quietly.

"I don’t want to lose you completely,” Natasha said, voice thick.

"You’re still one of the most important people in my life. Maybe… we figure out how to be friends? Real friends. Without forcing the romance." You nodded against her shoulder.

"Friends. It hurts like hell right now, but I think that’s what we need."

The breakup was kind. No slammed doors. No bitterness. You helped each other move her things out over a weekend, sharing memories and even laughing through tears when Luna tried to “help” by sitting in every box.

You stayed close. Group hangouts were no longer awkward. Natasha still came over sometimes, just for dinner or to watch movies with you and Luna. The romantic tension faded into something softer, warmer. She was still your person, just in a different way. You dated other people eventually. So did she. But no one ever quite matched what you had.

Years later, when people asked about your college love story, you’d smile and say.

"We burned bright. Really bright. And when it was time, we let it settle into embers instead of forcing the fire. She’s still family."

You know how your favorite song builds and builds until it reaches that one perfect moment? The moment that makes you close your eyes every single time you hear it. But even after that, the music doesn't stay there forever. It softens. It quiets. Eventually, it comes to an end.

Maybe that's all you two ever were. Not a song that ended too soon. Not one that went on for too long. Just one that reached its peak... and knew when it was time to fade.

The stadium lights buzzed overhead like angry hornets as you pushed through yet another set of 400-meter repeats. Your lungs were burning and your thighs were screaming. The track was still damp from an earlier rain, and every footfall sent cold spray up your calves. You were the only one left on the track. Everyone else had been dismissed about thirty minutes ago.

"Again!" Natasha Romanoff snapped from the sidelines.

Her arms were crossed over her chest. Her red hair was pulled into a severe ponytail, the wind whipping loose strands across her sharp cheekbones. Even in a simple black windbreaker and leggings, she looked completely untouchable.

"Pick up your knees. You're running like you're afraid of the ground. Don't be pathetic." You gritted your teeth and drove harder on the next rep, arms pumping, curls swinging against your shoulders. You should have tied it into a bun earlier, but when Romanoff said she wanted to speak to you, you didn't expect to still be running laps like a crazy woman.

Sweat stung your eyes. Your skin was practically glistening under the floodlights. Mahogany against moonlight. You'd come to this university on a partial athletic scholarship, determined to make something of yourself. In high school, you were the best track runner there was. You had broken your school record a couple of times and that was just when you were sixteen. But now at twenty, in university, you were no longer on the receiving end of the spotlight because Coach Romanoff had other plans. She'd been riding you since day one. Extra drills. Snide comments about your form. Public corrections that made the rest of the team glance away uncomfortably. At first you thought it was just tough love. Now you weren't so sure.

You crossed the line and bent over, hands on your knees, gasping for air.

"You run like a girl." she mumbled disapprovingly after you'd reached the finish line,  almost collapsing onto the ground

"I am a girl." It came out breathlessly.

"I thought you wanted to qualify for regionals. You're six seconds slower than last week." Natasha said, checking her stopwatch. Her voice was flat, cold.

"At this rate you'll be warming the bench for conference. Maybe you should stick to intramurals." You straightened up slowly, chest still heaving.

"I ran a personal best two days ago and you know it." Her green eyes flicked over you, taking in the rise and fall of your sports bra, the way your compression shorts clung to your thick thighs, the defiant tilt of your chin. For a second something unreadable flashed across her face. Then it was gone.

"Personal best means nothing if you fold under pressure. Now you either run again or I bench you for the entire season, your choice." You wanted to tell her to fuck off. You wanted to walk away. Instead you lined up and ran. Fuck her.

—-

The feeling of the hot water running down your back managed to calm the burning ache in your body. You stood underneath there for almost ten minutes just to calm your muscles. But for some odd reason, you felt an ache elsewhere that you didn't want to believe.

When Natasha had pulled you aside to correct your form, she'd pressed down onto your stomach, hard. The feeling of her warm hand on your skin seemed to make your skin prick while it sent an unwanted thrill down your body. When she removed her hand, you still felt the warmth even though it started raining.

You hit your fist against the shower wall, frustration mixed with unwanted arousal lingering inside of your body. Your mind now filled with thoughts of your Coach. Her voice, her fingers, her lips, her back, her legs. Everything. The one thing you were good at doing, was hating Natasha Romanoff but right now, even that seemed to fail.

You switched the water off before getting out of the shower and reaching for your towel. Afterwards you stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. You could see the bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, your toned arms and stomach from hard work but still, the feeling of Natasha pressing her arm against your back, or when she placed both arms on your waist to better your form and stride, was the only thing you could focus on. You huffed in annoyance before walking out of your bathroom and into your bedroom.

—-

The track was still wet from overnight rain. Most of the team had already been sent home after the main session, but you were still out there. Natasha had kept you behind. Again.

"Again!" She snapped, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her voice was ice cold.

"That was pathetic. You looked like a fucking amateur on that last 300." You stood bent over, hands on your knees, chest heaving, sweat dripping from your curls onto the track. Your legs burned. This was your eighth repeat and she still wasn't satisfied.

"I hit my split-" You started.

"I don't care what your split was." Natasha cut you off sharply.

"Your form fell apart in the last 80. You're lifting your knees like you're running through mud. Lazy. Soft."

She walked closer, her knee making her gait slightly uneven. Even with the slight limp, she looked intimidating.

"You want to be great?" She continued, voice dripping with bitterness.

"Then stop running like you're scared of the pain. I've seen high school girls with better finishing drive than that." The words stung. You straightened up, jaw clenched, glaring at her.

"I ran a personal best last meet and you're still treating me like shit!" You shot back.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Natasha's green eyes flashed with something dark.

"I want you to stop wasting your talent." She said, stepping right into your space.

"You have the raw tools, the power in those legs, the speed, but you're mentally weak. You fold when it gets hard. Just like half the girls I've coached who thought they were special." She looked you up and down slowly, almost disgusted.

"And the way you prance around this track in those tight shorts like you own the place... it pisses me off. You think you're hot shit? You're not. Not yet." Your hands curled into fists at your sides. Part of you wanted to scream at her. Another part , a darker, more confusing part, felt heat low in your stomach at the intensity of her attention.

"I fucking hate you." You whispered before you could stop yourself. Natasha's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes.

"Good." She said coldly.

"Use it. Channel that hate into the next rep. I want to see you run like you're trying to prove me wrong." She stepped back and gestured to the starting line.

"Again. Full effort. Or you can pack your shit and quit." You lined up, anger and something else burning in your chest. When the beep sounded, you exploded forward harder than you had all morning, legs pumping with pure fury.

Natasha watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, her face unreadable. But her eyes never, not even for one second, left your body.

—-

After the session, you were cooling down when she approached again.

"Better." She said flatly.

"Still not good enough, but better." She paused, then added in a lower voice.

"You're improving. Slowly. But if you ever talk back to me like that in front of the team, I'll make your life hell. Understood?" You met her stare, breathing still heavy.

"Yes, Coach." Natasha held your gaze a second too long. The air between you crackled with resentment, frustration... and something dangerously close to hunger. She turned and walked away without another word, her limp more noticeable after standing on the track for so long. You watched her go, fists still clenched. You hated her.

—-

The rain had started again, light but steady. You were drenched, exhausted, and furious.

This was your eighth 300m repeat. Your legs felt like concrete. Natasha had been tearing into you nonstop for the last forty minutes, and you'd finally reached your breaking point.

"You're still hesitating!" Natasha shouted from the sidelines.

"Stop being so fucking soft! Drive through the damn curve!"

You crossed the line and immediately turned on her, chest heaving, rain mixing with sweat on your dark skin.

"I am driving!" You yelled back, voice cracking with exhaustion and rage.

"I just ran a 38.2 split and you're still not happy? What the hell is wrong with you?!" Natasha stalked toward you, eyes blazing.

"What's wrong with me? I'm trying to make you into something worth watching. You have all this talent and you waste it all with that weak mentality-"

"Maybe if you think you're such a perfect fucking coach, you should run it!" You snapped, the words flying out before you could stop them.

"Since you know everything so well, why don't you get out here and show me how it's done instead of standing on the sidelines like a bitter has-been?" The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Natasha froze mid step.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the rain seemed to quiet down. You watched the color drain from her face. Her jaw clenched so hard you thought it might actually break. Her hand instinctively twitched toward her scarred right knee before she caught herself. For a moment, something raw and painful flashed across her usually stoic expression, like you had just reached into her chest with a knife and twisted it. She took one slow step back.

"Get off my track." She said, voice dangerously quiet.

"Now."

"Coach, I didn't-"

"I said get off my fucking track." Her voice cracked on the last word. You stood there, rain pouring down your curls, horror settling heavy in your stomach. You hadn't meant it. You were just angry. But you knew exactly where you'd hit her.

Natasha turned away from you, limping slightly more than usual as she walked toward the equipment shed. Her shoulders were rigid, like she was barely holding herself together. You took a shaky step after her.

"Natasha.."

"Don't." She didn't even look back.

"Go home. We're done for today." She disappeared into the shed without another word.

You stood alone on the wet track for a long time, rain soaking through your clothes, guilt eating you alive. You had never seen her look that hurt before. You waited for nearly two hours in the rain before she finally emerged from the building. Natasha had changed into dry clothes, but her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked exhausted. When she saw you standing there, soaked and miserable, she stopped. You stepped forward carefully.

"I didn't mean it." You said, voice thick.

"I was angry and tired and I... I lashed out. I know what your knee means to you. I'm sorry."

Natasha stared at you for a long moment. The bitterness was back in full force, but underneath it was something deeper. Hurt. Vulnerability.

"You think I don't know I'm broken?" she said quietly, voice rough.

"You think I don't remember every single day what I lost? I live with it every time I stand on the sidelines watching you run." She took a shaky breath.

"I push you because I see what you could be. What I could have been. And you throw that in my face?"

"I'm sorry." You whispered again, stepping closer.

"I really am." Natasha looked away, jaw tight.

"Go home, y/n." She started walking toward the parking lot. Her limp was more noticeable tonight. But after a few steps, she paused.

Without turning around, she said softly...

"Tomorrow. 6 AM. Don't be late." Then she kept walking. You stood there in the rain, watching her go, heart aching with guilt... and something else. Something that felt dangerously close to longing.

—-

The track was still damp. The sky was gray and heavy. You showed up early, nerves twisting in your stomach. Natasha was already there. She stood near the starting line in her usual black windbreaker, arms crossed, face unreadable. Her red ponytail whipped in the cold morning wind. She didn't acknowledge you at first. Just stared at her stopwatch like it had personally offended her.

You approached slowly.

"Coach... about yesterday..."

"Warm up." She cut you off sharply.

"Four laps easy. Then we start." Her voice was colder than you'd ever heard it. Professional. Distant. Like she'd built an entire wall overnight. You swallowed the guilt and started your warm up. Every stride felt heavier than usual. When you finished and jogged back, Natasha was waiting with a set of cones already placed on the track.

"Today we're doing broken 400s." She said flatly. "150 hard, 100 recovery jog, 150 hard. Six sets. I want perfect form. No excuses." You nodded. The first set was brutal. She watched you like a hawk, correcting every tiny mistake with biting precision.

"Arms higher. Stop swinging them like that."

"Knees up. You're dragging your feet."

"Drive. Stop being lazy."

Each correction felt sharper than usual. There was no teasing, no lingering looks. Just cold, professional cruelty. By the fourth set, your legs were screaming. You crossed the line on the second 150 and bent over, gasping. Natasha walked up slowly. She stopped a few feet away.

"You're tightening up again." She said, voice flat.

"Same problem as yesterday. You fold when it hurts." You straightened up, breathing hard, and met her eyes.

"I said I was sorry," you said quietly.

I didn't mean what I said about your leg." Natasha's jaw flexed. For a moment, something painful flickered across her face before she locked it down again.

"I don't care if you're sorry." she replied coldly. "You said it. You meant it in the moment. That's what matters." She stepped closer, voice dropping.

"You want to know why I push you so hard?" Her green eyes were intense.

"Because I see myself in you. The talent. The fire. The potential. And every time you waste it, every time you complain or talk back... it reminds me that I'd give anything to still be able to run like you do." She looked down at your powerful legs, then back up to your face.

"So run. Or don't. But don't ever throw my injury in my face ever again." The silence between you was heavy. You nodded, throat tight.

"Yes, Coach." Natasha held your gaze for another second, long enough for you to see the storm behind her eyes,  before she stepped back.

"Again."

The rest of the session was miserable.

She rode you harder than she ever had. Extra reps. Constant corrections. Public humiliation in front of the few early arrivals who showed up. By the end, you were soaked in sweat and fighting back tears of exhaustion and guilt. When she finally dismissed the group, she kept you behind once more. You stood in front of her, legs trembling. Natasha looked at you for a long moment. The cold mask cracked just slightly.

"Go ice your legs." she said, quieter now.

"And drink something. You pushed hard today."

You hesitated.

"I really am sorry." you whispered. She exhaled slowly through her nose.

"I know." She turned and started walking away, limp more pronounced after the long morning on her feet.

But before she got too far, she paused.

"Film room tomorrow night," she said without turning around.

"We still have strategy to work on." Then she left you standing there, sore, guilty, and more confused about your feelings for her than ever. You went back to your dorm and spent the night crying. You don't know why. It just happened.

The tension between you was now unbearable.

And it was only getting worse.

—-

The next day at practice, you showed up on time, earbuds in, head down. No attitude. No backtalk. No fire. You did exactly what Natasha asked and nothing more or nothing less. When she corrected your form, you adjusted without a word. When she told you to run another set, you lined up silently and ran it hard. But you wouldn't look at her. Not once. Your eyes stayed on the track, on your shoes, on the cones ...anywhere but her face.

Natasha noticed immediately. By the third rep, her voice had sharpened.

"Y/n. Eyes up when I'm talking to you." You briefly lifted your gaze to her chest, then looked away again. No defiance. Just quiet, heavy guilt. She hated it. But she still made you run nonetheless.

"Again!" Natasha barked after you finished a 400m time trial.

"You slowed on the final straight. Fix it." You nodded once, still not looking at her, and jogged back to the line without argument. No eye contact. No snappy comeback. Just obedient silence. Natasha's jaw clenched tighter with every lap. After the sixth rep, when you crossed the line and immediately started your recovery jog without waiting for feedback, she finally snapped.

"Stop." You slowed to a walk but kept your eyes on the ground. Natasha walked over, stopping right in front of you. She was breathing harder than usual, frustration rolling off her in waves.

"Look at me." She demanded. You didn't.

"Y/n." You finally lifted your eyes, but only to her collarbone. The guilt was written all over your face. Natasha stared at you for a long moment. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

"You think ignoring me makes it better?" She said, voice low.

"You think shutting down like this is going to fix what you said yesterday?" You swallowed hard but stayed quiet. She stepped closer, voice dropping even more.

"I'd rather you yell at me than this. At least when you're angry, you're present. Right now you're just... empty. And it's pissing me off." Still, you said nothing. You just stared at the ground again, shoulders slightly slumped. Natasha exhaled sharply through her nose. She ran a hand over her ponytail, clearly battling with herself.

After a long pause, she spoke again, quieter this time.

"Go cool down. Ice your legs when you get home." You nodded once and turned to leave.

Before you could take more than two steps, Natasha's voice stopped you.

"Y/n." You paused. She hesitated, like the words were physically painful to say.

"I know you didn't mean it." She said stiffly.

"But it still hurt. Don't... don't do this silent treatment shit. It's worse." You finally looked at her, really looked. For a brief second, the guilt in your eyes met the complicated storm in hers (anger, hurt, frustration... and something softer underneath).

Then you nodded again and walked away toward the locker room. Natasha stood there watching you go, fists clenched at her sides. She hated how much your silence bothered her. She hated how much she wanted you to look at her again.

Later that afternoon, you were stretching alone in the corner of the weight room when Natasha walked in. She stopped a few feet away.

"You're still avoiding me." she stated. You kept stretching, eyes on your quad.

"I'm doing what you asked." You said quietly. "Running. Fixing my form. No arguing." Natasha took another step closer.

"I don't want a robot on my track."  She said.

"I want you. Even if you're pissed at me." You finally looked up at her. The guilt was still heavy in your expression.

"I hurt you." You said simply.

"I didn't know how else to... not make it worse. Natasha's jaw flexed. She looked like she wanted to say something more, but instead she just stared at you for a long moment , eyes tracing your face, your shoulders, your powerful legs.

Then she turned and walked out without another word. But the tension between you had only grown thicker. And Natasha was clearly not done with you yet.

—-

"The last curve was awful. You're lacking." Natasha commented while other girls came back from their own laps.

"You gonna give them some criticism or just me?" You bite back, sweat running down your forehead before you wipe it away. Natasha blows her whistle directly into your face.

"Again." You sigh in frustration before your feet move on their own accord. Natasha's been more harsher on the girls these days. You all know it was because the regionals were in two months but really you felt like she was overdoing it. You didn't complain or speak much because you still felt bad for throwing that comment a week ago. But her behavior was worse. Especially when it came to you, and the other girls saw it too.

They were used to it all. The bickering between you and Natasha, how she made you work ten times harder, her harsh criticism and all the other stuff. At first they thought it was tough love too, that maybe Natasha saw something in you but then it got worse and well, really it wasn't in their place to say anything. Rather it be you the them. Natasha blew the last whistle, signaling that practice was done for the day. But when she motioned for you to stay, you groaned in annoyance. What more does she want from me!?

Your steps were slow as you moved towards the benches. You were dreading whatever she had planned for you, and watching all the girls take off their running shoes to replace them for crocs or Birkenstocks wasn't really helping your case. You could feel a blister coming in on your foot soon.

"Cone duty. Then we meet to strategize." Natasha stated, picking up and placing her clipboard underneath her arm.

"Can't you ever say please?" Natasha ignores you, but something in her stance changes. You see the way her leg subtly twitches before she turns around, like she's hiding it. It's probably her bad knee. You look away before she catches you staring at her.

The thing is, Natasha was a good athlete. Actually good wasn't even the word to describe her. But she was the best in Russia, impeccable even. After making her way to the top and getting various scouts interested in her, she made a name for herself. Speed, agility and diligence, that's what she had.

She'd won medals, trophies and even got top sponsors to sponsor her university in hopes that she'd eventually part from the university and become one of their own sponsored athlete. It was all going well for Natasha until the unfortunate incident. It happened when she was nineteen years old, during the Russian Olympic Trials in Moscow.

She was running the 400m hurdles final, one of the top prospects in the country, expected to make the Olympic team and potentially contend for a medal. She was dominating the race, running with perfect rhythm and aggressive power that only she seemed to have.

On hurdle seven, she took off a fraction too early. Her trail leg (right leg) clipped the top of the hurdle. It wasn't a clean clip, it was bad. Her body twisted awkwardly in the air, and when she landed, her right knee buckled sideways under the full force of her momentum. The injury was catastrophic. Complete tear of the ACL, severe tear of the MCL, shredded meniscus and significant damage to the surrounding cartilage and ligaments.

Natasha heard the pop herself. It was loud enough to cut through the roar of the crowd. She collapsed on the track in agony, clutching her knee and screaming. The stadium went dead silent as medics rushed out. That single moment ended her elite running career.

She underwent three surgeries over the next two years. The Russian athletic federation basically abandoned her once it became clear she'd never return to world-class level. She went from being a golden girl, destined for the Olympics, to a bitter, washed up coach. At least that's the story you heard.

When the cones were finally in their bag, Natasha cocked her head over to the Film Room which was also known as the Tactic Room in the athletics department. You both walked in silence, only because you had no idea what to say to her and the thought of speaking right now didn't seem very possible.

When you reached the building, Natasha pulled out her key to unlock the door. The film room was a small, dimly lit room with a large projector screen, a long desk, a few chairs, and a whiteboard. The walls were covered with old race photos, national championship banners, and dry erase boards with strategy notes. The room was rarely used late at night, which made it the perfect private space for Natasha to do one on one sessions with you.

"Close the door." She mumbled and you did so before plopping yourself down on the seats. The small film room smelled like stale coffee and rubber flooring. The only light came from the projector that was now casting a blue glow across the walls lined with old race photos and dry-erase boards covered in race splits.

This was the third time this week that Natasha kept you over. "Strategizing" is what she called it. You were both leaning over the long desk, shoulders nearly touching, as she paused and replayed the same 15-second clip of you running the curve during last weekend's meet.

"Watch." Natasha said, her voice low and focused. She pointed at the screen with a pen.

"Right here. You're standing up too early out of the turn. You lose power every time you do that. Your drive phase shortens and you start floating instead of attacking." You tried to focus on the footage, but it was getting harder with every session. Natasha stood so close you could smell her. Sharp citrus, clean sweat, and something uniquely her. Her red hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, a few strands loose against her sharp cheekbones.

"I thought I was staying low." You muttered, glancing at her.

"You're not low enough." She reached over and adjusted the frame. Her arm brushed against your breast for half a second. Neither of you acknowledged it, but you felt the contact like electricity.

Natasha cleared her throat and continued.

"In the 400, the third 100 is where races are won or lost. You have the raw speed, but your rhythm breaks on the curve. You hesitate. You think too much." You turned your head to look at her.

She was already looking at you. For a moment, the race footage kept playing in the background, but both of you had stopped watching it. Her green eyes flicked down to your mouth for a split second before snapping back up. Your breathing had grown slightly ragged.

"I... I'll work on it." You said quietly.

Natasha's jaw flexed. She leaned in a little closer under the pretense of pointing something else out on the screen. Her hip brushed against yours.

"You have the talent to be elite, Y/n. But you're still soft. Still doubting yourself mid race." Her voice dropped.

"I hate watching you waste what I lost." The air felt thicker. You could feel heat radiating off her body. You swallowed hard, realizing with sudden clarity that the fluttering in your stomach wasn't just nerves about the upcoming meet. You were attracted to her. To your cold, bitter, extremely hot coach who pushed you harder than anyone ever had. And the way she was looking at you right now... you were almost sure she felt it too.

"Is that why you hate me?" You asked softly and Natasha's face morphed into a look of shock and something you didn't want to name.

"I don't hate you. I hate that you're lazy." She licked her lips before continuing.

"You've got talent that I haven't see in all my years of coaching, and instead of bettering it, you're playing with it. You could go so fucking far, that's why I push you." The tension in the room heightened, you were certain that if you leaned a fraction closer, her lips would touch yours.

Natasha straightened up slightly, but didn't step away. Her eyes trailed down your body for a moment, lingering on your sports bra, your toned stomach, the powerful lines of your thighs in your compression shorts, before she caught herself. She turned back to the screen, gripping the edge of the desk a little too tightly.

"Next week I want you running the curve ten times after practice. I'll film you myself. We're going to fix this before conference."

"Yes, Coach," you whispered. She glanced at you again. The tension was so thick it felt suffocating.

For a second, it looked like she might say something else. Something real. Instead, she stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between you.

"Go home and rest," she said, voice rougher than usual.

"And stop looking at me like that." You blinked.

"Like what?" Natasha's eyes darkened. She didn't answer. She just stared at you for another long, heavy second before turning off the projector.

"Dismissed." You grabbed your bag slowly, legs feeling unsteady.

As you reached the door, you looked back. Natasha was still standing at the desk, watching you leave with an unreadable expression. Hungry, frustrated, and conflicted all at once. You closed the door behind you, heart racing. Something had shifted tonight. And you both knew it.

—-

The tension didn't fade. If anything, it got worse.

The next night, Natasha kept you late again. This time the film room felt even smaller. The projector was off. The only light came from a single desk lamp, casting long shadows across the walls. You were sitting on the edge of the desk while Natasha stood between your slightly spread legs, reviewing handwritten notes on your race strategy. Close. Too close.

"We need to talk about your finishing kick." She said, voice lower than usual.

"You have the speed, but you're still afraid to hurt. You hold back when it matters most." Her eyes flicked up from the paper to your face. Then slowly down your body. Over your sports bra, the curve of your waist, and the powerful thighs on either side of her. You felt your breathing change again. Shallower. Heavier.

"I'm not afraid." You replied, barely above a whisper. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"No?" She placed one hand on the desk beside your hip, leaning in. The scent of her filled your lungs.

Her other hand rested lightly on your quad, not quite a coach's touch anymore. Her thumb brushed slowly across the muscle.

"You hesitate on the straight because you're scared of the pain." She murmured.

"Just like you're hesitating right now." Your heart hammered against your ribs. The room felt ten degrees hotter.

"I'm not hesitating." You said, staring at her lips.

Natasha's jaw tightened. Her fingers flexed on your thigh, digging in just enough for you to feel it. Her eyes dropped to your mouth again, then back up.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." She said, almost like a warning.

"Every practice. Every time these legs move on my track. Every time you look at me like that. You swallowed hard.

"Like what, Coach?" Natasha let out a shaky breath. Her hand slid higher up your thigh, stopping just under the hem of your shorts. So close.

"Like you want me to ruin you." She whispered. The silence stretched. Heavy. Dangerous.

You could feel the heat between your legs. The way your body was responding to her touch, her voice, her proximity. Natasha's breathing had grown ragged too. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown. For a moment, it felt like she might close the gap. Like she might finally kiss you.

Instead, she pulled her hand away like she'd been burned and stepped back.

"Fuck." She muttered under her breath, running a hand through her ponytail.

"Go home, Y/N." You didn't move right away. Your legs felt weak.

"Coach..."

"Tomorrow." She said, cutting you off. Her voice was strained.

"We'll finish this discussion tomorrow. After practice." You slid off the desk slowly. Your body was buzzing. When you reached the door, you looked back.

Natasha was gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, head slightly bowed, like she was physically holding herself back. You left before either of you did something you couldn't take back. But you both knew the truth. It was only a matter of time.

—-

The tension had only gotten worse. You barely slept the night before. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Natasha's darkened eyes and felt her hand sliding up your thigh. When you walked into the film room the next evening, the air felt charged, like the moment before a storm. Natasha was already there. She stood at the desk in a black long sleeve top and leggings, arms crossed, staring at the paused footage on the screen. The moment you closed the door behind you, she looked over.

"Sit." She said, voice rough. You sat on the edge of the desk like last time. Natasha positioned herself between your legs again,  closer than necessary, too close to be just Coach and prodigy. The projector light flickered across her sharp features.

"We're going over your last two races." She said, but her tone made it clear the footage was secondary.

We're going over your last two races," she said, but her tone made it clear the footage was secondary. She hit play. The video showed you powering through the final straight. Natasha pointed things out, but her voice was lower than usual.

"Your hips drop here." She murmured, leaning in so her chest nearly brushed your shoulder.

"You lose power because you're not staying tall through the drive." Her hand rested on the desk beside your hip. Then slowly, deliberately, her other hand settled on your quad again. Higher than last time. Her thumb stroked the bare skin just under the hem of your shorts. Your breathing picked up immediately.

"You're doing it again." Natasha said quietly, eyes still on the screen even though neither of you was really watching anymore.

"Looking at me like you want something you shouldn't." You swallowed.

"I'm not the only one." You whispered. Natasha's jaw flexed. Her fingers tightened on your thigh, digging in hard enough to make you inhale sharply. She finally turned her head to look at you. The hunger in her eyes was unmistakable now.

"You have no idea how badly I want to bend you over this desk." She said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Every single night I think about it. About shutting that smart mouth up. About seeing how wet you get when I'm mean to you." Your thighs pressed together instinctively. Natasha noticed.

Her hand slid higher, fingertips slipping just under your shorts. She stopped right at the edge of your bare pussy then pulled her hand away. You let out a soft whine.  She noticed.

"No panties?" She asked, you tilted your head to the side.

"Did you feel em?" Natashas mouth parted, her green eyes were locked on yours, dark and burning. She finally broke the silence, voice low and rough.

"How wet are you right now?" Your breath caught in your throat. The question sent a fresh rush of heat between your legs. You held her gaze, heart pounding.

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that question Coach." Natasha's eyes darkened further. Her fingers flexed on your thigh.

"Tell me." The command hung in the air.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly slid your right hand into your shorts. No barrier from your panties underneath. The moment your fingers touched your soaked folds, the wet, obscene sound echoed clearly in the quiet room.

Schlick... schlick... schlick...

You pushed two fingers inside yourself, slowly pumping them in and out. The sloppy, wet noises were unmistakable. Your breathing grew heavier, lips parting as your eyes fluttered half closed. You fucked yourself deliberately, letting her hear exactly how drenched you were, all for her.

Natasha watched with rapt attention, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling faster. Her hand tightened almost painfully on your thigh.

You kept going, fingers moving faster, the slick sounds growing louder and messier. A soft moan slipped from your lips as you curled your fingers inside yourself.

Right when you were getting close, you pulled your hand out. Your fingers were glistening, strands of your arousal stretching between them. You held them up between you and Natasha, breathing hard.

"That's how wet I am." You whispered, voice husky.

"Coach." Natasha stared at your dripping fingers like a woman starved.

For half a second, she looked like she was fighting herself. Then she lost. She grabbed your wrist and brought your soaked fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean with a deep, guttural moan. Her tongue swirled greedily around them, tasting every drop of you while her eyes stayed locked on yours.

"Fuck." she groaned, voice wrecked.

"You taste so fucking good, even better than I imagined." She pulled your fingers out with a wet pop, then suddenly grabbed your hips and yanked you forward on the desk. In one rough motion, she ripped your shorts down your legs and dropped to her knees.

The moment her mouth latched onto your pussy, you cried out. Natasha devoured you like she'd been dying for it for month, tongue dragging through your folds, sucking hard on your clit, two fingers pushing deep inside you instantly.

"So wet." She growled against your cunt, pumping her fingers fast.

"You've been walking around my track this soaked for me?" You moaned loudly, one hand flying to her red hair as your powerful thighs trembled around her head.

"Fucking slut, walking around my track with this bare pussy hanging out. Wanted me to see your pussy so bad huh." Natasha slapped your pussy then ate you out with raw hunger, fingers curling viciously inside you while her tongue worked your clit. She was done holding back.

She ate you like she was angry at you. Like she was punishing you for making her want this so badly. Her tongue was relentless, licking broad and messy through your folds before flicking rapidly against your swollen clit. She sucked your clit into her mouth hard, then released it with a wet pop, only to do it again. Two of her fingers pushed deep inside you without warning, curling instantly against your g-spot as she fucked you with them.

The sounds were borderline filthy. Wet, obscene slurping and sucking mixed with the slick plunge of her fingers. Natasha groaned loudly against your cunt, the vibration shooting straight through you.

"So fucking wet." She growled, voice muffled as she licked you sloppily.

"You've been hiding this pretty dripping pussy from me for months?" She sucked hard on your clit again, fingers pumping faster, deeper. Your powerful thighs started shaking on either side of her head. You gripped her red ponytail tightly, hips rolling against her face.

Natasha pulled back just enough to look up at you, her chin and lips shiny with your arousal, eyes dark with lust.

"Look at me while I eat you y/n." She ordered.

You forced your eyes down. The sight of Natasha Romanoff,  your cold, intimidating coach, on her knees with her face buried between your dark thighs was almost too much. She held eye contact as she flattened her tongue and licked you in long, slow strokes from your entrance up to your clit, then sucked hard again. Her fingers never stopped moving at all, just curling, thrusting, stroking that spot inside you that made your legs tremble.

"You taste so good." she moaned against your pussy, licking messily.

"So sweet and sloppy for me. This is what you get when you tease your coach." She slapped your pussy again then added a third finger, stretching you open as she sucked relentlessly on your clit. Her free hand gripped your thick quad hard, fingers digging into the dense muscle to hold you in place while she feasted. Your moans grew louder, more desperate like a fucking bitch in heat. Your hips bucked against her face. Natasha didn't let up, she fucked you with her fingers and worshipped your clit with her tongue, alternating between fast flicks and long, dirty licks.

When you started clenching around her fingers, close to the edge, she pulled back slightly and looked up again.

"Don't you dare come yet." She warned, voice husky.

"I'm not finished with you." Then she dove back in even harder, tongue working your clit furiously while her fingers drove deep and fast. The redhead was completely lost in you.

She ate your pussy with filthy, desperate hunger, no restraint left. Her tongue moved in fast, messy circles around your clit before sucking it hard into her mouth again and again. Three fingers thrust deep inside you, curling relentlessly against your g-spot with every stroke.

The wet, sloppy sounds were loud in the small room. Every lick, every suck, every plunge of her fingers made your thighs shake harder around her head.

"Natasha, ah, f-f-uck." You moaned, gripping her red ponytail tighter. She groaned loudly against your cunt, the vibration making your back arch off the desk. She pulled her mouth back just enough to speak, lips and chin shiny with your arousal.

"You're soaking my face detka." She rasped, voice thick.

"You're just such a messy girl for your coach." Then she dove back in even more aggressively.

Her tongue flicked rapidly over your swollen clit while her fingers fucked you harder, faster. She curled them perfectly, stroking that sensitive spot inside you over and over. One of her hands gripped your thick quad, nails digging into the muscle as she held you open for her mouth.

You were trembling. Whimpering. So close it hurt. Natasha could feel it. She sucked your clit hard and moaned against you, refusing to let up.

Come," she growled, voice muffled.

"Come on my tongue right now." The orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your powerful thighs clamped around her head as you came hard, crying out her name. Your pussy clenched violently around her fingers, gushing against her tongue. Natasha didn't stop, she kept licking and fucking you through every wave, drawing it out until you were shaking and oversensitive, tears pricking your eyes.

Only when your moans turned into broken whimpers did she finally slow down.

She gently pulled her fingers out and gave your pussy one last slow, soothing lick before pressing a soft kiss on your clit then stomach. Natasha stayed between your legs for a moment longer, forehead pressed to your stomach as you both caught your breath. Her hands gently stroked your thighs, soothing the trembling muscles, her lips and chin were glistening. She looked wrecked, her pupils blown and breathing ragged.

Without a word, she leaned over you, pressing her body against yours on the desk, and kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on her tongue. When she pulled back, her voice was low and rough.

"I've wanted to do that for so fucking long."

She rested her forehead against yours, one hand still gently stroking your trembling thigh.

"You okay?" she asked, softer now. You nodded, still catching your breath, a small, dazed smile on your face. Natasha kissed you again, slower this time, almost tender.

Then she whispered against your lips.

"This doesn't change anything on the track. I'm still going to be mean to you." She smirked, eyes sparkling with heat.

"Even after this?" You teased and she laughed before kissing you again. The kiss started tender but quickly turned hungry again, tongues sliding, teeth nipping, her hand cupping the back of your neck to hold you close. When she pulled back, her eyes were still dark.

"You're going to ruin me." she whispered against your lips. She helped you sit up, then grabbed tissues from the desk drawer. She was surprisingly gentle as she cleaned you up between your legs, wiping away the mess she'd made. Her touch lingered a little longer than necessary, thumb brushing softly over your sensitive skin. Once you were both decent again, she pulled you in for one more kiss, slower, almost reluctant, like she didn't want to stop.

"Come on." She said quietly, voice rough.

"I'm taking you back to your dorm."

—-

The drive back to your dorm was thick with silence and heat. Natasha's hand never left your thigh. Her fingers dug into the thick muscle possessively, occasionally sliding higher, teasing the hem of your shorts. Every red light felt like torture. At one stoplight, she slid her hand fully between your legs and cupped your still sensitive pussy over your shorts, rubbing firmly. You gasped hard, hips twitching.

"Still wet." She murmured, eyes on the road."Even after I ate you out for twenty minutes. Greedy girl." You whimpered softly, spreading your legs a little wider in the passenger seat. Natasha's jaw clenched. She pressed harder, rubbing slow circles over your clit through the fabric until the light turned green.

By the time she pulled up in front of your dorm building, you were squirming in your seat and she was breathing hard. She put the car in park but didn't unlock the doors. Instead, she reached over, grabbed the front of your shirt, and yanked you into a rough kiss across the console. It was desperate, all tongue and teeth. Her hand slid back between your legs, pushing under your shorts this time to stroke your bare, soaked pussy.

"You're going to go upstairs and think about my tongue on you." she growled against your mouth, fingers teasing your entrance.

"Every time you move tomorrow, you're going to feel how sore I made this pretty pussy." You moaned into her mouth as two fingers dipped inside you again, just enough to make you clench.

Then she pulled back abruptly, breathing ragged, and removed her hand.

"Go." She said, voice strained.

"Before I say fuck it and take you home with me."

You stepped out of the car on shaky legs. Before you closed the door, you looked back at her.

Natasha was gripping the steering wheel tightly, lips swollen, eyes burning as she watched you.

You walked into your shared dormitory, and slipped into your own room. The suite was quiet except for the loud music that was probably coming from some frat party. Your friend was also probably out at that exact same party. You couldn't care less, instead you flopped down onto your bed and let out an actual scream. Your coach was in between your legs. Your coach ate your pussy. Nothing about this was platonic or "Prodigy x Coach". This was serious.

At 11:20 PM you got a text from an unknown number. Well just a number you didn't plan on saving to your contact list until now.

Unknown number

You make it inside okay?

You

Yeah. Still can't stop thinking about your mouth on me.

Natasha

Fuck, Y/N. Don't text me shit like that.

You

Why? You liked how I tasted, didn't you?

A long pause.

Natasha

I'm still wet just thinking about it. You were so fucking wet for me.

You

I'm still wet now.

Natasha

Stop. I'm trying to be responsible.

You

Come be irresponsible then.

Natasha

You're going to get me in so much trouble.

Natasha

Go to sleep, baby. Tomorrow I'm back to being mean to you on the track.

You

Yes Coach.

Natasha

Good girl.

The town car arrived exactly on time. During the entire ride across the city, you couldn't sit still. Your legs bounced. You kept smoothing down your simple black hoodie and leggings, wondering if you should have dressed up more. Inside, you felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, nervous, thrilled, and a little dazed. This powerful, gorgeous woman wanted you again. At 5 AM. The memory of her thick cock stretching you open, her green eyes locked on yours, and the way she'd growled "good girl" kept replaying in your head, making you press your thighs together. The driver, a tall old man, spent the past few minutes humming to some popular song that had been playing on the radio while occasionally checking his rear view mirror. Maybe this was ridiculous. Were you really just about to go to a woman's apartment at 5 AM just because she fucked you good? Well, yes.

The car pulled up to Natasha's building which was a sleek, ultra-modern skyscraper made of glass and dark steel that screamed old money and power. Before you could even process it, the door opened and the driver held his hand out, waiting for you to accept it.

"Thank you." You mumbled softly before he escorted you inside. It was quiet inside the building, but you knew soon enough the hustle and bustle of 6 AM would come soon.

The lobby was visible through the towering floor-to-ceiling windows. Marble floors that gleamed under crystal chandeliers, minimalist leather seating, and massive abstract art pieces on the walls. It looked less like an apartment building and more like a private museum for the obscenely wealthy. You stepped inside, the cool air hitting your skin. The reception desk was a long, polished black marble counter. Behind it stood a tall, impeccably dressed blonde woman in her late 20s, sharp cheekbones, designer blouse, and an expression of practiced superiority. Her name tag read "Elena."

She looked you up and down slowly, taking in your casual hoodie, leggings, and the faint scent of club smoke still clinging to your curls. Her lips curled into a condescending smirk.

"May I help you?" she asked, tone dripping with fake politeness.

"This is a private residence. Deliveries and guests need prior approval." You straightened your shoulders, weight shifting to your other leg.

"I'm here to see Natasha Romanoff. She's expecting me." Elena let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. She checked her tablet, then looked back at you with open disdain.

"Miss Romanoff didn't mention any guests tonight. Especially not..." Her eyes flicked over you again.

"...Someone like you. Are you sure you have the right building, sweetheart?" The condescension was thick. Jealousy mixed with classist venom. It was clear this woman had been trying to get Natasha's attention for a while, and the idea of some random (curvy, beautiful and clearly not from their world) girl showing up at 5 AM offended her deeply.

Before you could respond, the private elevator dinged. Natasha stepped out like she owned the entire damn city. She was wearing a black silk robe loosely tied over what looked like grey sweatpants and a tank top, silver-streaked auburn hair tousled from sleep, or maybe lack of it, and those sharp green eyes immediately locked onto you with raw hunger. The robe did little to hide the heavy bulge already forming between her legs.

Elena straightened instantly, her voice turning sugary.

"Miss Romanoff, I was just telling this young woman that you-"Natasha didn't even glance at her. She crossed the lobby in long, confident strides, slid a possessive arm around your waist, and pulled you flush against her body. Her hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise as she leaned down and kissed you . It was deep, claiming, and completely unconcerned about the audience. You melted instantly, a soft whimper escaping into her mouth.

When Natasha finally pulled back, she kept her arm locked around you and looked at Elena with cool indifference.

"She's with me." Natasha said, voice low and authoritative.

"Always. Don't question her again." Elena's face flushed with embarrassment and jealousy, but she nodded stiffly.

"Of course, Miss Romanoff." Natasha didn't wait for more. She guided you toward the elevator with a firm hand on your lower back, almost possessive. As the doors closed, she pressed you against the mirrored wall, lips brushing your ear.

"I've been hard for hours thinking about you," she growled.

"Couldn't sleep. Needed to feel this pretty warm pussy again." You shivered, grinning giddily against her neck as the elevator rose.

The mean receptionist was already forgotten.

All that mattered was the way Natasha Romanoff couldn't wait until morning to have you again.

The elevator ride up was thick with tension.

Natasha kept you pressed against the mirrored wall, one hand gripping your hip possessively while the other tilted your chin up for another deep, hungry kiss. Her silk robe had slipped open slightly, and you could feel the heavy, hard length of her cock pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of her sweats.

"I've been thinking about this tight little pussy since you left." she murmured against your lips, accent thicker with want.

"Couldn't even sleep properly." You shivered, heart racing with that same giddy, nervous excitement from the car ride.

This powerful woman, this older woman,  had summoned you at 5 AM because she needed you.

The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse. Your breath caught. You'd never seen anything like it. The space was massive and breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the entire living area, offering a panoramic view of the glittering city skyline that made you feel like you were floating above the world. The lighting was low and warm,  soft recessed lights and the glow of the city beyond.

Everything screamed quiet, expensive luxury.

Sleek modern furniture in deep charcoal and cream tones filled the open-plan space. A massive sectional that looked like it could seat twenty dominated the living area. In one corner stood a glossy black grand piano. A fully stocked bar with crystal glassware and expensive bottles glowed under subtle lighting. The floors were dark polished hardwood that felt cool under your sneakers.

It smelled like her , woody cologne, faint whiskey, and something undeniably powerful. Natasha watched your reaction with dark satisfaction, her hand never leaving your lower back as she guided you inside.

"First time seeing it properly." she said, voice low.

"What do you think?" You stepped further in, eyes wide, turning slowly to take it all in.

"It's... insane. Beautiful. Like something out of a movie." You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

"I feel like I shouldn't even be standing here in sneakers." Natasha's lips curved into a predatory smile. She closed the distance, sliding her arms around your waist from behind and pulling your back flush against her front. You could feel her hard cock pressing insistently against your ass.

"You belong here." she murmured, lips brushing your ear.

"I wanted you back the second you left. Couldn't stop thinking about how good you felt riding me. How pretty you looked with my cock buried inside you. The breathless sound you made just as you were about to cum, fuck. I want to hear it again." You whimpered softly, already wet. The contrast between the overwhelming luxury surrounding you and the raw hunger in her voice made your head spin.

Natasha didn't give you long to admire the view. She turned you around, picked you up like you weighed nothing, and carried you over to the huge sectional. She sat down and pulled you astride her lap, hands immediately sliding under your hoodie to grip your bare waist.

"Take this off." She ordered, already tugging the fabric upward. You obeyed quickly, pulling the hoodie over your head. Your full breasts spilled free, you hadn't worn a bra.

Natasha groaned at the sight, leaning in to suck one dark nipple into her mouth while her hands squeezed your ass.

"You're just so fucking perfect," she growled against your skin.

"This body has been driving me crazy for too many fucking days." You rocked against the thick bulge in her sweatpants, moaning softly. The city lights sparkled behind you through the massive windows as Natasha freed her heavy cock and pushed your leggings and panties to the side.

She didn't tease this time.She lined up and pulled you down onto her in one smooth, deep thrust, burying every thick inch inside you.You gasped sharply, head falling back as the stretch burned so good. Natasha's lips parted, eyes trained on those pink lips of yours. Her thumb pushed your bottom lip down, your tongue coming out to lick the digit. You maintained eye contact while you sucked her thumb and you could see the way Natasha swallowed thickly before she trailed that same thumb down your stomach, to your clit.

Natasha then gripped your hips tightly and started guiding you to ride her, deep and steady bounces that made your breasts jiggle and your ass ripple like water.

"Look at me." She commanded. You did. Those intense green eyes stayed locked on yours as she fucked up into you, the wet sounds of your pussy taking her cock filling the luxurious penthouse.

This was only your second time with her, but it already felt dangerously addictive.

And as Natasha pulled you down harder, growling "Good girl" while the city watched silently through the windows, you realized something thrilling:

You were already in deep.

—-

You woke up slowly, wrapped in the softest sheets you'd ever felt. The first thing you noticed was the warmth. A solid, strong body pressed against your back, one heavy arm draped possessively over your waist. The second was the view. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in soft morning light, painting the entire penthouse in golden hues. The city stretched out endlessly below, making you feel like you were floating in the sky.

You were in Natasha's bed. Memories from a few hours ago flooded back. Natasha fucking you on the sectional, then carrying you to bed and taking you again. So much slower, and so fucking deep, until you were shaking and moaning her name. Until you could feel her in your stomach, just hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars over and over again. She fucked you so good, you went silent, mouth opened in an "o" shape.

"Don't you dare look away. I want to see you." She whispered, telling you how she wanted to see you fall apart. You came so hard that moment, thigh lifting slightly while you let out a choked gasp. You'd fallen asleep with her still buried inside you.

Now, Natasha was awake. You could feel her watching you. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare stomach, occasionally brushing the underside of your breast. Her thick cock was already half-hard, resting against the curve of your ass.

"Morning, gorgeous." she murmured, voice husky with sleep and that faint accent. She pressed a slow kiss to the back of your neck.

"Sleep well?" You turned in her arms to face her, suddenly shy under the bright morning light. Natasha looked devastating, her silver-streaked auburn hair messy, sharp green eyes soft with satisfaction, pale skin marked with a few faint scratches you'd left on her shoulders last night and earlier that morning.

"I... yeah." You whispered, a giddy little smile tugging at your lips.

"This bed is ridiculous. Everything here is ridiculous." Natasha chuckled lowly and pulled you closer, hooking one of your thick thighs over her hip. Her hand slid down to squeeze your ass possessively.

"You look good in my bed." she said, eyes roaming over your dark skin against her white sheets.

"I could get used to waking up to this." Your heart did a little flip. This was only your second night together, but the way she looked at you...like she didn't want you to leave, it made butterflies erupt in your stomach again.

Natasha leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep. The kiss quickly grew heated. Her hand slipped between your thighs, finding you already wet for her again.

"You're just so greedy huh?" she teased against your lips, sliding two fingers inside you easily. "Even after I fucked you twice last night, your pussy, she just gets so wet." You moaned softly, rocking against her hand and pulling it closer to guide her movements.

"Can't help it... you feel too good." Natasha rolled you onto your back and settled between your spread thighs. She pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, groaning at the tight heat. This time it was lazy morning sex , deep and slow rolls of her hips, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

"Fuck, you take me so well." She breathed, forehead pressed to yours.

"This pretty wet pussy was made for my cock."

You wrapped your legs around her waist, nails digging into her back as she fucked you steadily. The morning light illuminated every detail. The way her silver hair caught the sun, the flex of muscle in her shoulders, the intense focus in her green eyes as she watched you fall apart. When you came, it was soft and shuddering, a quiet moan of her name leaving your lips. Natasha followed right after, burying herself deep and filling you with warm cum as she groaned against your neck.

She stayed inside you afterward, holding you close while the city woke up far below.

"I want you to stay longer today." she said quietly, brushing curls from your face.

"Cancel whatever you had planned. Let me feed you breakfast. Then maybe fuck you in the shower." You laughed breathlessly, still floating from the orgasm.

"You're not tired of me yet?" Natasha's expression turned serious. She cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your skin.

"Not even close," she murmured.

"I told you, I don't do this, inviting someone back the very next night. But with you... I can't seem to stop." Your heart swelled with that giddy, dangerous feeling again. You were falling fast. Too fast.

But lying here in her bed, full of her cum, wrapped in her arms while the morning sun warmed your skin... you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

"I'll stay, just cause you promised me pancakes." You whispered, leaning up to kiss her.

Natasha smiled against your lips. Slow, satisfied, and just a little possessive. Her arms wrapped around you, rough calloused digits tracing your back.

"Good girl."

—-

You left Natasha's penthouse around 11 AM.

She'd tried to convince you to stay longer by offering breakfast in bed (which you gladly took) and another round in the shower (messy, long, steamy and no not from the hot water). Natasha even suggested you cancel your plans for the entire day. But you needed a moment to breathe. Your body was deliciously sore, your mind was spinning, and you still smelled like her cologne and sex.

The town car dropped you off at your modest apartment building. The contrast was almost comical, going from a sky-high glass palace with marble floors and city views to your small one bedroom with creaky floors and a kitchen that barely fit two people. You kicked off your converse, collapsed onto your couch, and stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes, replaying everything. Then you grabbed your phone and opened your messages with Anna.

You two had a strict "no TMI" policy. Nothing was off-limits.

You

Girl. I need you to sit down. I just left someone's penthouse. Like... 5 minutes ago.

Anna's typing bubble popped up instantly.

Anna

BITCH WHAT. Who??? You better not be talking about some random club guy. Spill RIGHT NOW.

You bit your lip, grinning as you typed, still feeling that giddy, floaty feeling in your chest.

You

Her name is Natasha. She's kind of a Silver fox. Late 40s/early 50s. Rich as hell. Like... stupid rich.

You paused for a moment, grinning like some teenager.

You

She has a penthouse that looks like it belongs in a movie. Floor to ceiling windows, grand piano, the whole thing. I felt like I didn't even belong there in my sneakers. I kinda met her at that gig you gave me and well we talked but nothing happened.

Anna

Hello!!?? That was a while ago

You

I'm not done. So then, a few weeks later I saw her at the club and she was watching me. She paid like a lot of money for me to dance for her. But the two weeks after that, she came back and asked for a full night performance and I guess we kind of fucked.

Your cheeks began to heat up from the memories. You even kicked your legs like some lovesick teenager.

Anna

Kinda??? And then what?! Don't leave me hanging.

You

We fucked okay. Anna, the dick is LIFE CHANGING. Thick, curved, she knows exactly how to use it. I rode her on her couch the first night. She fucked me twice more before I left this morning. I can literally still feel her inside me rn.

You sent a string of flushed-face emojis.

Anna

HOLD TF UP. You went home with a rich white woman. A WHOLE DAY AGO and you're just now telling me???

You

I was busy.

Anna

Well know I know why. Details. Measurements if possible. Is she a top? Does she eat pussy? I need the full report!!!

You laughed out loud in your quiet apartment, cheeks burning as you typed back.

You

She's a top. Very much a top. She ate me out like she was starving. Made me come so hard my back arched off the bed for a long moment. And she's so possessive but in this hot, controlled way. Woke me up this morning by pulling me on top of her and fucking me slow while staring into my eyes. Told me she couldn't stop thinking about me and wanted me to stay longer.

Anna

Woah

You

Anna... I'm scared of how much I already like her. Like, stupid giddy. I was smiling the whole car ride home like some idiot

Anna

Babe. This sounds like danger. Rich older woman who fucks like a god and lives in a sky palace? Red flags but also... live your best life??? But be careful. Make sure she's not just playing games. Also send pics of the penthouse next time if you can 😂

You smiled, hugging a pillow to your chest.

For the first time, you had someone in your life who felt bigger than just a client or a one-night stand. And telling Anna about it made it feel real.

You

I'll be careful. But... I think I'm gonna see her again. Soon.

Anna

Of course you are. Just don't fall too fast, babe. Keep me updated on that silver fox dick tho.

You put your phone down, still grinning like a fool. Even back in your small apartment, surrounded by your normal life, you could still feel Natasha's hands on your body and hear her whispering "good girl" in your ear.

And you knew that this was only the beginning.

—-

Natasha Romanoff didn't do this. She didn't just invite women back to her penthouse the very next night. She didn't text at 4 AM because she couldn't stop thinking about someone or how they sounded when they laughed. And she certainly didn't spend the entire morning after watching her sleep with a stupid, soft smile on her face. Yet here she was. Still thinking about you.

After you left, Natasha stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, coffee in hand, staring out at the city. She was now wearing only her silk robe, your scent, coconut, vanilla, and sex was still clinging to her skin. She couldn't stop replaying it. The way you'd looked riding her on the couch that first night. The surprised, breathless sounds you made when she filled you. How your right thigh lifted when you came. The shy but glowing smile on your face when you woke up in her bed this morning. Natasha was in trouble.

Her phone buzzed. A group chat.

Carol

Brunch? I'm in town for 48 hours.

Wanda

I'm free. Natasha, you better not be working.

Natasha sighed and typed back.

Natasha

My place. 1 PM.

Two hours later, Carol Danvers and Wanda Maximoff were sprawled across her sectional like they owned it. Carol, blonde and athletic in jeans and a leather jacket, was nursing a mimosa. Wanda, with her soft red hair and knowing green eyes, was curled up with a cup of tea.

They both noticed something was off immediately.

"Well you're glowing." Wanda said, tilting her head with a small smirk.

"And you have that 'I got laid and it was good' look. Spill." Natasha leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed.

"It's nothing." Carol barked out a laugh.

"Bullshit. You never invite us over last minute unless something's up. Who is she?" Natasha was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

"Her name is... y/n" she said, the name feeling intimate on her tongue.

"Shes young and so beautiful. Curves that should be illegal. She was waitressing at the Harrington event a couple of weeks ago. Some assholes were being rude to her. I shut it down... and then.."Wanda's eyebrows rose.

"You took a waitress home didn't you?"

"No!" Natasha frowned.

"That night we were at the club."

"What club?"

"The time Rio lost the bet and we went to the strip club, I saw her again. She's a dancer."

Carol grinned.

"You fucked the stripper didn't you?" Natasha shot her a look.

"How did you-"

"Because you have that 'I can't stop thinking about her' face," Carol said, pointing.

"The same face you get when you're closing a deal you're obsessed with. Except this time it's a person." Wanda had placed her drink down, her attention was now solely focused on the redhead.

"You guys had sex?"

"Yes."

"With the stripper?"

"Wanda she's more than just a stripper." Natasha murmured after taking a sip from her wine glass.

"And you like her?" Wanda asked and Natasha paused before nodding.

"Fuck. I think I do." Wanda leaned forward, more gentle.

"You like her." She repeated, softer this time.

Natasha ran a hand through her silver-streaked hair.

"I do." She  admitted quietly.

"More than I should after two nights. She's... different. She's got this fire. She's just..."

"Indescribable." Carol finished and Natasha nodded.

Wanda's expression softened with understanding.

"Sounds like you're falling, Nat." Natasha didn't deny it. She just stared out the window, a small, rare smile tugging at her lips.

"She makes me feel... greedy. Like I want all of her time. All of her attention. I want to spoil her. Protect her from the assholes at that club." She let out a breath.

"It's only been two nights and I'm already thinking about when I can see her again."

Carol clapped her on the shoulder.

"Then stop overthinking and go get your girl. You deserve something real for once." Wanda nodded.

"Just be careful. Don't scare her off with the full Romanoff intensity too fast." Natasha chuckled, but her mind was already drifting back to you, wondering what you were doing right now, if you were sore, if you were thinking about her too.

She was falling. And for the first time in years, she wasn't sure she wanted to stop. Age be damned.

—-

You were lying in bed, freshly showered, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. Your body was still tender. Your thighs sore, pussy faintly throbbing from how thoroughly Natasha had fucked you that morning. Every time you moved, you felt the ghost of her thick cock stretching you open. Your phone lit up.

Natasha

Tell me you're still thinking about me.

You bit your lip hard, a rush of heat flooding between your legs

You

How could I not? I can still feel you inside me.

Natasha

Good. I've been hard for the last hour just remembering how you looked riding me this morning. That pretty puffy pussy taking every inch. The way your thighs just kept lifting every time you came.

You squirmed on the bed, pressing your thighs together.

You

You're dangerous. I'm literally wet again just reading this.

Natasha

Send me a picture.

Your heart raced, heart slamming against your ribs . You hesitated for half a second, then angled your phone down. You pulled your shirt up, spread your thighs, and took a quick photo , showing your slick, puffy pussy still slightly swollen from earlier. Fuck it.

You sent it.

Natasha

Fuck. Look at that pretty pussy. Still leaking my cum? I should've kept you in my bed all day. Should've fucked you until you couldn't walk.

You

I'm sore but I want more. You ruined me for anyone else already.

Natasha

That's the plan.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers hovering over the keyboard as heat pooled low in your belly.

You

You're really trying to make me touch myself tonight, huh?

Natasha

Shouldn't have to try. You're already soaked just from texting me. Tell me the truth, are you touching that pretty pussy right now?

Your hand had already slipped between your thighs without you realizing. You bit your lip harder and typed with one hand.

You

...Yes.

You paused before continuing.

You

I'm so wet. Can't stop thinking about how deep you were this morning.

Natasha

Show me.

Another picture request. Your heart hammered as you spread your legs wider, angled the camera, and snapped a new photo,  this one showing two of your fingers glistening with your slick, your swollen clit peeking out.  You sent it.

Natasha

Fuck, look at you. You're such a needy little thing. Playing with that pussy while thinking about my cock. I want you to fuck yourself with those fingers and pretend it's me stretching you open.

You moaned softly in the quiet of your room and pushed two fingers inside yourself, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined her thick length instead.

You

Feels so good but not enough... I need you. Want you to bend me over and fuck me until I can't walk straight.

Natasha

Careful, beautiful. Keep talking like that and I'll come over there right now and ruin you all over again.

You

And what if I want that?

Natasha

Oh baby, I want those thighs shaking while I pound you. Want to hear you moan my name until your voice gives out.

You were breathing harder now, fingers moving faster as you read her messages.

You

Please... I'm so close. Tell me what you'd do to me.

Natasha

I'd pin you down on your back, spread those thick thighs wide, and slam every inch into you. I'd fuck you hard and deep until that pretty wet pussy is creaming all over my cock. And then I'd flip you over and fill you up while you're still shaking for me.

That pushed you over the edge. You came with a choked moan, thighs trembling, fingers buried deep as your pussy clenched and pulsed. You snapped one last blurry, post-orgasm picture, your fingers shiny and your pussy visibly wet and twitching , and you sent it.

Natasha

Jesus Christ.

She typed for a moment before the bubbles disappeared. Then they reappeared.

Natasha

Good girl. Such a perfect, messy little slut for me. I'm so fucking hard right now. Tomorrow night. After your shift. My car will be waiting.

Natasha

And you'd better not be wearing any panties.

You smiled breathlessly, still coming down from your high.

You

Yes, ma'am. I can't wait.

Natasha

Get some rest, beautiful. You're going to need it.

You locked your phone and stared at the ceiling, heart racing and a stupid grin on your face.

This woman was going to be the death of you.

And you were already counting down the hours until you saw her again.

—-

The club was packed, but the second you spotted her in the VIP booth, everything else faded.

Natasha sat like she owned the place — legs spread, black suit tailored perfectly to her powerful frame, silver-streaked auburn hair catching the lights. Her green eyes were locked on you with intense, burning focus. She wasn't smiling. She was watching every move you made like a predator.  So you danced for her.

Every roll of your hips, every arch of your back, every slow, filthy grind against the pole, it was all for her. You caught her gaze during a deep dip, biting your lip as you rolled your body back up. Natasha's jaw clenched. Her hand tightened around her glass. You winked before moving again.

By the end of your set you were soaked and buzzing. You grabbed the last of the money before walking off to the empty dressing rooms. You barely had time to step into your dressing room before the door opened behind you.

Natasha stepped in, locked the door, and had you pinned against the vanity in seconds. Her mouth crashed into yours, hungry, possessive, and almost angry.

"You danced like a fucking tease." She growled against your lips, hands already yanking your emerald bikini top down.

"Shaking that perfect ass for them. Letting every worthless man in here stare at what's mine."

You moaned into the kiss, grinding against the very obvious bulge in her slacks. When she pulled back for air, you looked up at her, breathing hard, and took her wrist.

"Yours?" you challenged, voice breathy but defiant. You guided her hand down your body, pushing it under the waistband of your tiny bikini bottoms until her fingers pressed against your dripping, swollen pussy.

"Yours?" you repeated, guiding two of her fingers to rub slow, firm circles over your clit.

"You sure about that already old woman?Natasha's eyes flashed with dark heat. She pushed both fingers deep inside you without warning, curling them hard as she pressed you back against the vanity.

"Yes," she snarled, fucking you roughly with her fingers.

"This pussy is dripping for me. Not for them. Mine." You gasped, head falling back as she pumped her fingers fast and deep, thumb rubbing your clit. Your thigh started to lift and tremble against her hip as pleasure built fast.

Natasha hooked her arm under your thigh, holding it up higher so she could watch it shake while she finger-fucked you.

"That's it," she growled.

Look at this pretty thigh trembling for me. Your body already knows who it belongs to. Your pussy knows where home is too."

You came hard with a broken cry, pussy gushing around her fingers, thigh shaking violently in her grip. Natasha kept working you through it, then pulled her fingers out and spun you around.

She bent you over the vanity, freed her thick cock, and slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

You cried out, gripping the edge as she immediately started pounding you hard from behind.

The mirror showed everything. Your breasts bouncing, Natasha's face dark with lust as she watched her cock disappear inside you over and over.

"Say it." She demanded, one hand fisting your curls, the other slapping your ass hard.

"Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"Yours." You moaned, voice breaking.

"It's yours, Nat-" She thrust deeper.

"Who's? I didn't get that." Another rough thrust.

"It's yours Nat." She fucked you harder, deeper, until you came again with a silent scream, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Natasha buried herself to the hilt and came with a low groan, flooding you with thick, hot cum.

She stayed inside you for a long moment, both of you panting. Then she leaned down, kissing the back of your neck almost tenderly while still buried deep.

"Mine."  She whispered and you smiled breathlessly.

"Yours."