Work Text:
Natasha Romanoff has been your best friend ever since you could remember. You’d been by each other’s side through thick and thin. You grew up in the Red Room together, you graduated together, you escaped together, you joined S.H.I.E.L.D together, and now you’re avengers together. You knew her better than you knew yourself, you knew that you’d lay down your life for her in an instant, and you knew that she would do the same for you without a second thought.
So yes, you were as ‘best’ as best friends could get. Which is why it was so hard for you to admit that you had feelings for her. You hadn’t always. No, this had started a couple months ago, when the two of you were on a mission. The bullets had come out of nowhere, but Natasha had seen it coming. She’d barrelled into you and you’d landed. And of fucking course, your brain had not been able to stop thinking about how her hand had shielded your head from the concrete, how she’d held your body tightly to hers… how her thigh had landed between your legs and you’d bit your tongue before a whine could escape your lips. You’d been under heavy fire, and your only thoughts were how you could feel her breath on your face, how you could feel her heart pound as your chests were pressed together, how she smelt of shampoo and leather.
It had only gotten worse, but somehow, she hadn’t noticed. Somehow, you’d been able to conceal it from her. Somehow, she’d missed the way you’d stare at her from across the room, how you’d let your hand brush hers as you walked, how you hid blankets so on movie nights the two of you would have to share one. Somehow, she’d missed it.
The two of you dawdled through the park. It was a Sunday, and the two of you had trained early so that you’d have the afternoon off. You’d been so busy recently you hadn’t had time for walks in the park anymore, despite the fact that you used to do so every weekend. You’d missed it, for sure. You’d missed the intimate moments, the moments when Vision didn’t phase through the walls when you were in the middle of a D&M chat, the moments when Tony didn’t put a hole in your wall as he worked on new tech from his room next door, the moments when you weren’t afraid that Wanda could hear every little dirty thing your mind thought of when Nat bit her lip in thought. Yeah, you’d missed it.
“Do you want to go to the weeping willow?” Nat asked, bringing you back into the present.
The weeping willow was a gorgeous old tree. Its branches shielded you completely from the view of the rest of the park, and the sunlight shone through the small gaps in the leaves, dusting the grass with gold flecks in an absolutely stunning way.
“Sure,” you replied.
The two of you reached the weeping willow not too much later. Nat guided the leaves aside and held them so you could get through. They rustled as she let go, swinging gently back into position to create a magical world, separate from the bustle of everyday life. It seemed like reality had been left behind in favour of a magical world that was Nat’s and yours alone. You’d forgotten how beautiful it truly was. The branches twisted and turned above your head, seeming to stretch up to the sky, letting the light come through in shafts through a canopy of green leaves, and long skinny branches joined together to make an intricate web. The sunlight teased in and out of the leaves, flickering gold as the leaves blocked its way, only to clear it a moment later.
You and Nat settled on your backs side by side on the carpet of soft grass beneath the canopy. You sighed contentedly.
“I feel as if I’ve barely spent any time with you in the past few weeks,” Nat said, her voice soft.
“Fury’s definitely been keeping us busy, I suppose,” you replied.
“So tell me then, how have you been? Has anything changed for you?”
Your mind immediately went to your little crush, but you shoved the thought to the back of your mind. “Not really.”
Natasha chuckled and twisted to lay on her side facing you, holding up her head with her hand. Her eyes met yours and your eyes flickered to her lips briefly before you caught yourself and forced yourself to maintain eye contact. Natasha cocked an eyebrow, and butterflies rose in your stomach.
“Really? No new crushes?” Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head. Natasha smirked. “Liar. You’ve been acting weird lately. So, tell me, who is she?”
Natasha had known you were gay since you’d come out at the age of seventeen. Your first crush had been Anya, but she’d died in the Red Room only months before your graduation. Nat had noticed a change in you. Death wasn’t uncommon in the Red Room, not by a long shot, and of course it affected you, but Anya’s death had been different. It had been a child’s crush, you knew that now, but at the time you’d thought you’d loved her. But Nat had noticed the change in you, so she’d asked, and you’d admitted your feelings for Anya, and since then, you and Nat had become even closer. She’d admitted to liking girls too, the same moment you came out. It had been a relief; the Red Room was full of bigotry – racism, homophobia, you name it. It had been a relief to know you weren’t alone. And you supposed that was what brought you two closer.
“Is it Wanda?” Nat asked, trying to egg an answer out of you.
“No guessing,” you complained, batting her arm playfully as you scrunched your nose.
“Fine,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Then at least tell me what your game plan is.”
“Game plan?” you raise an eyebrow at her wording. “It’s not a sport.”
“I beg to disagree. You shoot your shot, and you win or lose. Sounds like a sport to me.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” you retort, rolling onto your side to face her.
“You’re deflecting,” she teased, her tone sing-song. “Answer the question.”
You huffed out a breath. “I dunno! Do nothing?”
Nat rolled her eyes, but then her expression changed, and she smirked. “Practice on me.” The butterflies were back tenfold as her voice lowered and her gaze darkened.
“What?” you force out, voice slightly higher than normal.
“Practice. On. Me.” Her tone was flirty now, and you bit your lip.
“What- no. No.”
“Why not?” she shifted closer to you until you could feel her breath on your face. Heat pooled in your belly as she pushed your shoulder, making your back hit the cushion of grass beneath you. You suck in a breath, eyes wide as you watch her hover over you. Her hair dangled down the sides of her face, not quite long enough to reach your face.
“Say this mystery girl likes you back,” Nat said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Say you’re in this situation with her. What do you do?” You spluttered for a moment, and Nat seemed to take pity on you. She leant down closer to you to whisper into your ear. “Tell me you’re uncomfortable and I’ll stop, but I have a feeling that won’t be a problem.” Her lips ghosted along your cheek as she pulled back. You forgot how to breath. “I see we’ll need to do a step-by-step guide then,” Nat teased, “Step one: kiss me.”
You bite your lip, the order making the butterflies go wild. Then you lean up and connect your lips with hers. The kiss is soft, brief, and you pull back moments later, anxious that you’d done it wrong. Nat smirked and leaned down towards you to kiss you again. The kiss was harsher this time, and you felt her tongue ghost along your lips, asking for entrance. You part your lips compliantly and weren’t disappointed when her tongue entered your mouth. She moves gently, slowly at first. You know that she knows you’ve never done this before. You know she’s being gentle for your sake.
Her nails scratch the back of your neck lightly as her hand finds a grip in your hair. You whimper softly as a shiver runs down your spine, your entire body tingling with sensitivity. You felt Nat smirk into the kiss, and she carefully drags her nails along your scalp, eliciting a surprised gasp from you as the touch sends electricity down to the pit of your stomach. You almost whine as Nat pulls back, and the woman grins.
“So sensitive,” she mutters as she removes her hand from your hair to the top button of your blouse, fiddling with it, but not undoing it. “What do you do next?”
You stare up at her blankly, confused. Natasha, on the other hand, knows you’d have no idea how to answer the question. Perhaps she just liked rubbing in the fact that you had no idea what you were doing.
She smirked, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t know? Come on, kotenok, think.” You lean your head into her hand at the sound of the pet name, humming lightly. “Nuh huh,” she tutted, digging her nail into your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting a little, “I said answer the question.”
“I- I,” she’d gone back to running her fingers through your hair.
“Shh, no rush. Think. What’s step two?”
“Can I take your shirt off?” you asked nervously, desperately hoping this was the right answer because god, you didn’t want to disappoint her.
Clearly you didn’t, because she practically beamed at you. “Good girl. That’s perfect.” You whined at the praise, her voice sending sparks through your body. She guided your hands to her shirt and helped you take off her top.
You’d seen her shirtless before, when you were changing in the changing rooms after training literally since you were five years old. But god, it had never affected you this way. Your eyes trailed down her lithe form hungrily, unabashedly staring. She wore a plain black bra that contrasted brilliantly against her creamy skin. Your mouth was dry as your gaze moved back up to find her staring directly at you. Heat travelled to your face and you squirmed slightly, stilling only when her hands – now on your upper arms – tightened around your biceps almost imperceptibly. Almost unnoticeably, but you immediately understood the subtle message and forced yourself to lie still, regardless of the tingling in your body, the butterflies in your stomach, the need for friction.
Natasha fiddled with the hem of your shirt, gaze questioning. You nodded, and she gently pulled you blouse over your head. You refrained from wriggling again as her eyes travelled up and down your form, lingering in some places, gliding smoothly over others. Her fingers traced light patterns from your neck to your collarbone, and then she moved down slowly. You sat up slightly so she could move her hand to where your bra clasped.
“May I?” she asked softly, and you nodded desperately, because god you’d dreamt of this moment. She unclasped your bra in a swift movement, and then your chest was free of the wretched garment. “Step three,” Natasha murmured as she stared, before her flingers flitted down to meet your nipple.
Her touch was electric, and you arched into her hand, desperate for friction. You gasped as she pinched your nipple lightly between her fingers, and you were not prepared for when she lowered her head and took your other tip between her teeth and nipped at it before soothing the pink mark with her tongue. You hissed through your teeth at the pleasureful pain, biting back a moan.
When Natasha paused her ministrations, you whined at the loss, only for the sound to be cut off by a filthy moan as her fingers ghosted over your covered mound. Natasha smirked and rested a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to force you to meet her gaze. Your eyes flutter shut as she slipped her hand under your pants, not giving you nearly as much pressure as you wanted.
“Look at me, Y/N,” she ordered. Your eyes snap to hers. “Good girl.”
You whimper as the praise mixed with her touching you makes the heat in the pit of your stomach burn like an inferno.
“Don’t look anywhere but me.”
You swallow as she pushed your pants and underwear down your legs, never once looking away. It occurred to you only now that anyone could walk by at any minute and see what’s happening. Natasha noticed your body stiffen as you glanced nervously at the spot you and Nat had entered through. She followed your gaze before looking back at you and pinching the inside of your thigh to get your attention. You gasped and your eyes immediately found hers.
“Don’t worry about what’s happening out there. I’ve got you,” she reassured. And god, you were bad at trusting people, but you would never doubt the trust you had in her. So, you pushed the nerves to the back of your mind and focused back to Natasha, “There you are, kitten. So good for me. So wet for me.” You whimper as she slides a finger through your soaked folds and your hips arch up to her.
“Tasha,” you groaned, impatient.
“Y/N/N,” she mocked your tone. Regardless, she slipped one deft finger into your core. You gasped, throwing your head back. “This is your first time, isn’t it kotenok?” you whined as you nodded, hips arching up in an attempt to create the friction you desperately needed. “So sensitive,” she tutted.
She slid another finger in an you panted as you felt the difference. Natasha felt your body stiffen at the unfamiliar intrusion, and allowed you a moment to adjust. Be gentle, she reminded herself, it’s her first time. The moment you’d relaxed, Natasha began moving her fingers in and out at a steady rhythm. Each thrust brought you closer and closer. You could feel it, the tension like a spring coiling.
Nat’s lips found yours and her free hands gripped your throat. That tipped you over the edge. Waves of pleasure threatened to drown you as you made absolutely filthy sounds into her mouth. You threw your head back, eyes rolling back into your head as bliss overwhelmed you. Nat guided you through the orgasm until you were squirming, overstimulated by her constant touch. She had a mind to keep pushing you, to finger you until you begged her to stop, but she restrained herself. First time. Don’t want to scare her.
She pulled out of you gently, leaving you a panting, sweaty mess beneath her. She smirked, rather satisfied with her work as she sucked on her fingers covered in your juices one by one. She released her fingers with a pop and laid down beside you, tracing patterns onto your side. You shivered.
“There’s step four,” she whispered. “Come here, kotenok,” her voice was soft and gentle as she opened her arms. You snuggled into her gratefully, and her arms wrapped around you protectively. “You were such a good girl for me.” You hummed softly, nestling further into her warmth. She ran her fingers through your hair, gently teasing out the knots she came across.
“What about step number five?” you mutter, voice muffled slightly.
“Step number five?” Natasha asked. “What would that be?”
“Returning the favour,” you looked up at her, and she smirked.