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There were a lot of things you had to keep track of. This was, for lack of a better term, your final exam - if you could show you’d put in the work, you were into SHIELD. That was enough stress in itself.
But then there was her overseeing your test. Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow herself, taciturn and exuding professionalism, stood by the side of the room in a way that would have made her fade into the shadows if you hadn’t been so hyper-aware of her presence.
You weren’t sure why she of all people was watching over your assessment. It just added a whole extra level of stress, though. If there was anyone you wanted to make a good impression on, it was her.
You stood up as straight as you could, doing your best to hide your nerves. Back straight, expression blank, trying not to sweat too much. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Natasha shift, watching you.
“Begin.”
Not that her voice betrayed anything more than passive interest. You swallowed, and stepped forwards.
The room was fairly open - they probably used it for physical training as well, not that you were being tested on that. You were up for a role on the base, admin and information, and you were fairly sure SHIELD wouldn’t spring that on you. Instead, you had to demonstrate a working knowledge of protocol.
You’d practiced this on your own time - even with an instructor. Doing it in front of Nat just made your hands shake.
Deep breaths. Focus. There were a line of objects on the table, an assortment of artifacts all secured differently. You neared the first, lifting the plastic container in your hands. You squinted - the object inside seemed like little more than a disc.
“First object. Unknown data. Read on an old-style computer - no wi-fi, no confidential data, scan contents,” you said, recounting the default protocol. “Copy information onto paper, pass on.”
You couldn’t help but stare at Natasha out of the corner of your eye; she wasn’t reacting, though that was expected of any overseer. She couldn’t let slip if you’d messed up, or if you were doing well.
Though her lips quirked. You quickly focused back on the containers. Someone like Nat could definitely tell that you were watching her; you flushed slightly.
“Second object. Resembles stone,” you recounted. “Irradiate and pulse, then x-ray. Store in a box marked 074. 074A if nothing unusual is found, 074B if further study needed.”
Your voice shook slightly, but you kept going over the next four containers. Identify the object, list what you’d be expected to do if you were handed it, and do so quickly and aloud with no notes.
Eventually, habit took over. You finished off the half-hour more on auto-pilot, just about able to ignore the pressure of Nat’s gaze. Well, almost.
“Good. Wait there,” Natasha said.
You nodded, fidgeting with your hands slightly. You’d done well, right? There hadn’t been any moments where you’d felt lost, and you felt fairly confident with your identification - besides, these weren’t the conditions you’d normally be working with. SHIELD just liked to test when you were under more stress.
That was part one of the two part test: the second part was the practical. Actual unexamined artifacts that SHIELD had just received, to be dealt with as SHIELD required. New, original objects that she couldn’t have just memorized and that might not totally resemble textbook instances.
You took a deep breath. Natasha barely made eye contact with you, walking past you and lifting a lid off of a nearby crate.
There was a decent-sized workspace next to it. It was a bit cluttered, all-in-one, not quite like the one you’d be assigned but sufficient to test all your skills.
“Begin,” Natasha said.
Well you knew she wouldn’t exactly be affectionate. You nodded; in a way, the laconic brusqueness made it easier to focus. Routine made something of a shield from the fact that you were in a room with the Black Widow.
Still, you were trembling, and it was only partly from the test. You could do this, you told yourself. Focus on what you’d practiced. Not on the world-class unfairly-pretty spy watching you with one eyebrow raised and a smirk playing at her lips.
Object one; you donned plastic gloves, quickly going through the usual routine, demonstrating that you knew what you were doing. Boxed up, labeled, and onto the next, and the next… It was easy enough once you got into the groove.
And then you lifted up the next artifact, and felt it give; you looked down at it, taking it in for a second. It looked more like a thick plant stem than anything, certainly fragile enough to break at barely any pressure (Biological specimen, secure and label 79R, part of your mind chimed in. Add a D for damage).
It wasn’t unheard of. Trying not to let the slip-up get to you, you neatly marked out the label - D included - and were just preparing a secure container when you glimpsed the tear in your glove. When your finger had accidentally crushed the stem, some trailing shard must have been sharper than it looked.
You only froze for half a second. It happened, you’d read the protocols for that too; replace your gloves, mark down the number of the object you had skin-contact with, report any unusual symptoms going forwards.
Don’t let it get to you. You moved quickly, taking off your gloves and washing your hands, trying to remember where spare sets were stored. It wasn’t a big-
“What happened?” Natasha said.
She was already just a step behind you. You hadn’t even heard her move; well, she was a professional after all. You gulped, but steadied yourself.
“One of the artifacts tore my glove. I’m just…” you began.
Natasha looked away, over to where the offending object lay on the desk. Her expression clouded.
“What is it?” you said.
“I recognise that sample, I think,” Natasha said. “Shouldn’t have been included in a demo set. One moment.”
She stepped away from you; you felt your heart start racing. Seeing Natasha frown like that was… concerning.
Natasha turned away, talking into her comm. You only caught a few scattered words, though you did see her frown deepen. She didn’t look happy when she approached you again. Abruptly, she rested a hand to your forehead, and grimaced.
“Slight fever already,” she muttered. “Damn it.”
“What?” you said weakly.
Okay, now you were really shaking.
Natasha, meanwhile, was walking away from you again. She quickly secured the sample, placing it separately from the rest of your work, before returning. Her gaze lingered on you.
“How do you feel?” Natasha said. It wasn’t polite inquiry - her eyes burned, her tone forceful.
“Um. Kinda nervous,” you said. “What’s wrong? What was that?”
“Increased heart rate, trembling in extremities?” Natasha said.
“Huh? Yes, that’s just… nerves, isn’t it?” you said.
“Unfortunately not,” Natasha said. Her voice slowed, for a moment, almost sounding softer: “That was a piece of a genetically modified plant bred as a bioweapon. Old, failed, still deadly. Some idiot saw ‘Marked for disposal asap’ and read ‘Put it in with the safe for ‘rookies.’’ So someone is definitely getting fired.”
“Bioweapon?” you said, nervous.
“Physical contact with it - in its current form, or when it’s ground down to powder, causes a… short version, triggers a reaction in your brain that if left unchecked will be… bad.”
“Bad?” you said, vaguely aware you were just repeating her. Natasha didn’t seem to notice.
“Do you need me to tell you?” she said.
“Is there an antidote, or a… I don’t know, something?” you said.
You held your breath. Your heart sank when Natasha faltered - but then she nodded.
“Of a sort,” she said. “Like I said, failed bioweapon, it’s not… that dangerous, not technically.”
“Okay. That’s good. I think?” you said. “Where is it?”
“It’s not that kind of cure,” Natasha said. “The chemical’s effect can be mitigated by dopamine, among some other chemicals - it’ll prevent it from having any significant effect on you.”
You hesitated. Natasha looked you over, still just a step away, still shockingly professional.
“Do you have anyone?” Natasha said. “Significant other, casual partner, anyone nearby?”
“What? Um, no,” you said.
You flushed. Natasha lifted her hand to your forehead again; you fidgeted nervously.
“Okay, seeing as I apparently have to, I’ll just say it - you need to cum. Repeatedly,” Natasha said. “Generates dopamine, counteracts the spores. Do you understand?”
It was hard to do much beyond stare dumbly at her. Your brain had been so fully in exam-mode that part of it still hadn’t fully processed the fact that the test seemed to be over - and everything since then had just been a sheer overload of information.
You shook, slightly. Natasha cleared her throat impatiently.
“Are you listening to me?” she said. “Do you have anyone close, or do you need me to take care of this for you?”
“Y-you?” you stammered. You still felt like this conversation was racing ahead of you.
Natasha moved her hands to your shoulders, half-forcing you to look into her eyes. You tried not to gulp.
“Listen to me. Focus,” Natasha said. “Do you need my help?”
And suddenly all you could think about was just what she was asking to do. She stared unblinkingly at you, expression firm.
“I-I can take care of it, er, myself,” you said. You flushed slightly, half of your mind barely able to process that you were implicitly turning down that offer. Still, Natasha didn’t let go.
“Best not be alone,” Natasha said. “If you take too long, get too tired, pass out - any number of things could go wrong.”
“Oh,” you managed. “It feels… weird with you being kinda obligated to… do this.”
“Is that all?” Natasha said. She laughed, a genuine smirk crossing her face. “If you feel that bad, I’m sure we can think of some way for you to pay me back after - right now, I’m good with this. Are you?”
You flushed, and nodded, struggling for words just then. Natasha smiled, and slid her hand down from your shoulder, down your side, and to your thighs. Then she paused, biting her lip thoughtfully.
Okay, the potential risk to your life made your heart race in entirely the wrong way, but it was easy to forget all that with the actual Natasha Romanov inches from your core. Her coming so close, then pausing, was maddening.
“Get up on the table,” Natasha said. “Pants off.”
“Y-yes,” you said.
Her tone didn’t allow disagreement. You could’ve sworn you saw her smirk at your flustered response to her command - but she looked away quickly, both crossing the room to make sure was locked, and muttering something into her comm.
Right. Probably didn’t want interruptions for this. A little nervously, you moved back, hands shaking a little bit too much; still, you eventually managed to undo your pants. Sliding out of them felt more ungainly than sexy - though by the look in Natasha’s eye, she didn’t care.
You sat up on one of the desks, and Natasha approached, parting your bare thighs with her hands, grip firm.
“Ready?” Natasha said. “I’m going to have to keep going until I’m sure your system’s clear. You understand that this is for your own good, rookie?”
“Yes, um…” You said.
Your voice trailed off. What were you supposed to even call her? ‘Agent’ felt too detached given that you were about to do, well, this.
She just smiled, and slid down; her hands moved inwards to your inner thighs, sliding higher up than you ever expected her to touch you, and she leaned in until you felt her breath tickle your core.
Then she stopped, again. You tried not to whimper.
“Wet already?” Nat murmured, amused. “That will make this easier.”
You blushed - but any reply you could have given was promptly pushed out of your mind when you felt Nat’s tongue.
She started close to your clit, tracing an expert pattern over your skin, a movement that would have felt teasing if she wasn’t so insistent.
Natasha Romanov’s mouth was pressed against your cunt. You kept turning that thought over and over in your head as though doing so would make it make more sense. You felt her, teasing, circling, and when you looked down you could see the red hair between your thighs and see her eyes meeting yours with what honestly looked like relish.
(Yeah, no wonder you’d been wet already. Nat certainly didn’t seem to mind).
She hummed, lips vibrating, and a gasp escaped your lips; you gulped, trying not to be too noisy, and you heard Nat chuckle.
“Don’t be shy. It’s a bit late for that,” Natasha said.
You flushed; she kept your legs pinned apart, figuring out what patterns you liked and continuing to tast eyou.
You bit your lip as you came, half-embarrassed to come apart in front of Nat; she just stayed where she was, tracing shapes against your cunt with a smile, until your moans slowly shifted to whimpers.
“That’s one,” she whispered. “Hold on. We need to keep going.”
You opened your mouth to reply - and than gasped as you felt her lips, still against you, more urgently now. She savored the taste of you, barely giving you a second to catch your breath.
Her grip on your thighs never ceased, pinning them apart to give herself total access to you. It felt like a little much, but you trusted her - she said you needed to cum, and you could manage this, even if she didn’t even give you a moment to catch your breath.
Her tongue shifted, now, a little more forceful; you felt her push inside you, felt your body both resist and relish the intrusion. When she chuckled, then, you really felt it, felt your whole body hum from it.
She really wasn’t slowing down. You swallowed, nervous, but did your best to accept the pleasure.
When you came again, you hastily lifted your hand to your mouth, feeling that you were already going to be loud. Nat’s amused laugh just prolonged the orgasm, the vibrations almost teasing you.
“O-oh fuck!”
Nat didn’t slow.
“That’s it, rookie,” Nat murmured. “Keep going.”
“G-give me a second,” you said, breathless.
Natasha moved; she slid up, until her head was just inches from yours, looking down into your eyes. One hand slid up your inner thigh.
“Shh. You need more, remember?” Natasha said. “Here. I’ll keep it feeling fresh.”
You whimpered, and Nat’s hand reached your core. Her fingers pressed against your clit - and then slid down, curling into you.
With her body atop you, she at last moved her other hand, sliding it up your chest to gently lean you back until you were laying on the desk. She fucked you into it, two fingers taking full advantage of how soaked your cunt was to slide back and forth, in and out, while Natasha smiled.
That time you couldn’t keep the moan in; when you came again, it was loudly, and you saw Nat’s eyes light up.
“Go on. Let go, rookie,” Nat said.
You whimpered in reply as she didn’t let up; you came again too little time later, orgasm after orgasm prised from your body by Nat’s hand.
“It’s- it’s too much,” you gasped.
“Shh, shh,” Natasha said.
You felt what must have been a third finger start to stretch you open. You whimpered, the noise slightly more strained.
“P-please,” you gasped.
“This is for your own good,” Natasha said. “I’m helping you, remember?”
She looked down at you, the look in her eyes just enough to make you feel a flicker of guilt.
Right, she was doing this to save you - she didn’t have to, but she was. Even if it felt like too much. You moaned, and tried to focus on that.
You came again with a trembling cry, and Natasha didn’t let up. If anything, she seemed amused.
“I bet there are a few people who’d kill to be where you are, don’t you think?” Nat said.
Was it your imagination, or did Nat’s eyes look downright hungry? You squirmed, wriggling around her fingers.
You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of her like this, pinning you down, looking at you like that. Let alone doing this to you, filling you with her fingers, smirking as you whimpered.
She was right. You didn’t have any reason to complain about this, did you? Anyone would want this, and she was keeping you safe, you should be grateful, not complaining.
“Y-yeah,” you whimpered. “Th-thank you for… this. Ah!”
You whimpered again. Nat rewarded you with a fourth finger into your aching cunt.
“Good girl,” Natasha said. “Cum again for me?”
And she wanted to you, she was concerned with helping you. Maybe you should try to relax, that might make it easier. Still, your moans were rather more labored as she stretched you out.
“Do you need… so many fingers?” you said, panting. Your breath hitched as she curled her digits, scraping a spot that sent shivers and a yelp through you.
“I know what I’m doing. Trust me,” Nat said. Her voice was almost soothing.
She leaned forwards, and you couldn’t help but blush from how intently she looked at you - how she stared at your face, contorted in far too much pleasure, as if savoring every whimper and cry.
You screwed your eyes shut, trying not to tear up from the over-stimulation. She had to have her reasons, you told yourself. This was for your own good.
“Does it hurt? Poor thing,” Natasha said.
She wasn’t mocking you, you were sure. It was just the heat of the moment, the way her voice sounded; of course she was sympathetic.
“Turn over,” she said. “Let’s see if a new angle will help.”
“Huh?” you said.
You still felt a few steps behind, exhausted and struggling to keep up with how fast things had gone. Natasha, meanwhile, pulled her hand back from you, leaving your core achingly empty and blessedly untouched for precious seconds. You sighed in relief, before feeling her slap the side of your thigh.
“Turn over,” she said, again. “Quick. We have to keep going, you know.”
“R-right,” you stammered. Right, listen to Natasha. Your legs were still shaky, but you did your best to obey, aided by Natasha hefting you over until you were face-down. She roughly parted your legs again, ignoring any part of your body that wasn’t your slick-stained thighs or dripping cunt.
With a vague grunt of approval, Nat’s hand slid back up. You managed a ragged moan as her fingers again found your core.
“Is that better?” Nat said.
Her fingers filled you from a new angle, one after another, entering you in that just slightly-different way. Maybe it was easier; you could talk yourself into believing that. A few spots weren’t quite being touched in the same way.
More than that, it just felt like she was fucking you in every way that she could. Your only answer was a choked moan.
You sobbed as you came again. Natasha was against you, keeping you down, close enough that you could feel her breath on the back of your head. You glanced back, briefly catching the look in her eyes. She was just focused, right? She knew what she had to do to help you, and she was just doing it. It was flattering to think she’d enjoy fucking you - though her having the same grin when there were tears in your eyes was disconcerting.
“H-how much more?” you said, breathless.
“I don’t know. We’ll see,” Natasha said.
She lifted her hand to your forehead, though what she was checking was unclear. She withdrew her hand quickly, shaking her head, apparently disappointed by whatever she found.
“A few more,” Natasha said.
“I-it hurts,” you whimpered.
“That’s okay. You can manage another, for me, can’t you rookie?” Natasha said.
All the while she was talking, she still fucked you, pausing for each strained noise she plucked out of you.
“You need this, you know you do,” Nat said.
You sobbed, feeling the tears on your cheeks as your body was wracked with yet another orgasm. You’d lost count of how many. Your core ached, but Nat kept pushing you, kept grinning.
“Say thank you,” Natasha said.
Was that her whole hand inside you now? It was hard to tell; it was sore enough for it to be. You felt your cunt stretch around her, squeezing despite yourself at her words.
Grateful, you told yourself. You ought to be grateful. Like she said, she was saving you. This was for your own good, even if she seemed to be enjoying it more than you were. N-no, that wasn’t right. Maybe the infection-thing was making you paranoid?
This was Natasha after all. She was a hero. She wouldn’t enjoy your tears.
“Th-thank you,” you said, your voice managing a desperate sob.
Her hand wound in your hair, pulling back a little roughly, turning your head so she could look at you. You tried not to think about what a mess you must be, flushed and crying and breathless from near-endless pleasure.
“That’s it, rookie. Let me see that face,” Natasha said.
She kissed you; you blinked, caught off-guard by the unexpected actual intimacy, tasting the salt of your own tears between your lips.
You came again, sobbing into her kiss. She still smiled when she pulled back. You’d never had an orgasm that came so close to hurting before, your body protesting even as it was overwhelmed.
You groaned in exhaustion as she didn’t stop. How did she even have the stamina to keep going? Every press of her fingers, her fist, just made you whimper, too incoherent to even beg. Natasha stared at you, unblinking.
“Aww, does someone need a breather?” Nat said.
You blamed your pleasure-addled mind for how demeaning that sounded.
“It’s… too much,” you said, panting.
She kissed you again. You couldn’t dwell on that either, letting her taste your tears from your lips, letting her swallow your sobs.
“You know why this is important - why I need to do this to you,” Natasha said. Her voice couldn’t possibly really be as playful as it sounded, could it? “Little gratitude would be nice. This is tiring for me too.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you said. You sobbed, again. “I… I don’t know if I can cum again. I-it hurts.”
“You said that before rookie, and you managed it didn’t you?” Nat said.
Did you? You could barely focus on what had happened even a minute ago.
“Alright,” Nat said. “I might be able to be nice, if you’re that desperate.”
Her thumb pressed against your ass. Your eyes widened; less than a second later and another finger, slick with your cum, pressed against the same hole. It didn’t make you whimper any less.
It might not be as sore, but it was tight; not that Nat seemed to care, sliding her fingers into you and quickly keeping up a decent rhythm, fucking you into the desk again. You still managed a cry.
“Wh-what are you…” you managed, your voice trailing off.
“I’m doing you a favor, rookie,” Nat said. “Remember? Say thank you.”
“I don’t know if I can cum from that,” you whimpered.
You could’ve sworn you heard Nat chuckle, as she pinned you down with her other hand.
“Try,” Nat said. “If you can’t, I’m going to have to go back to that poor little abused pussy of yours, you know?”
“O-oh,” you stammered. Then, remembering her earlier words: “Thank you.”
“There’s a good girl.”
You barely had the energy to arch back as she roughly fingered your ass; maybe it was just sheer desperation that made you feel a flicker of something other than pain.
Maybe Nat was as impatient as you were. This had to be hard for her as well.
“Isn’t that better?” Nat said softly. “Or do you want me to swap back?”
Your cunt throbbed, far too overused. You whimpered.
“N-no, th-this is okay,” you stammered, then squeaked as you felt Nat’s fingers scissor inside your hole.
“What was that?” Natasha said. “You’re panting too much, rookie. Couldn’t make it out.”
She sounded so kind, even while you were under her, even while you stretched your legs out and arched up and buried your head against the desk as your body twisted itself from far, far too much.
“Come on, what do you want me to do? You have to say,” Nat said.
“M-my ass,” you stammered.
“Full sentences. How am I meant to know whether to start or stop if you don’t say?” Natasha said.
“Fuck my ass,” you whimpered. “P-please, just there.”
“There you go,” Nat said. She chuckled. “No need to sound quite so needy. Feels like you’re enjoying this a bit more than you should.”
You squirmed, struggling to take her fingers, not sure what to say back. Not that Nat seemed to need you to say anything; she fucked you against the desk, as if just trying to push more of her hand into you.
“It’s… still too much,” you whimpered. Nat replied by forcing a third finger into your ass.
“Shh. You know this is for your own good,” she said. “I’m being as considerate as I can, rookie, but sometimes you just need to take it.”
You sobbed - and her fingers curled, seemingly as much to stretch you as anything. Your legs kicked uselessly behind you, an involuntary, overwhelmed spasm.
You didn’t believe it when you finally came. It felt forced out of you, prolonged second by second as it was dragged from your trembling body; you cried out, before going limp, barely reacting as Nat pumped her fingers into you for a few moments more.
You gave a pathetic-sounding groan, your legs barely even shaking anymore. Only after a long, agonising few moments did Natasha slow. She raised her left hand to your forehead, again, ignoring how your body shook with tears. You looked pleadingly up at her. After a moment, she smiled.
“I think you’re on the mend,” Natasha said. “That’s a good sign.”
You slumped, almost sliding off the desk; Natasha caught you, lowering you down to the floor. Barely paying attention, she wiped her cum-slick hand on your top. You only half-noticed, exhausted and overstimulated.
“That’s… that’s all?” you managed, breathless and aching.
“Should be,” Nat said. “I doubt it could stand up to that much dopamine. Nice job. You just rest there for a moment, okay?”
You nodded, panting.
There. That was the Natasha you’d heard of - always caring, always supportive. She must be as relieved as you that the tiring ordeal was over. Even if her holes weren’t aching nearly so much as yours.
“Thank you,” you said. You took a deep, long breath, really meaning it now that you weren’t being fucked quite so insistently. “So much. For helping me, like you did.”
She smiled, and gently brushed your cheek, catching your last few tears on her finger. She smiled.
“Any time,” Nat said. “Just rest there, okay? Don’t worry about anything.”
“Okay,” you said. You yawned; Natasha chuckled, bundling up a spare coat for you to use as a pillow as she laid you down.
While you slept on the floor, Natasha quietly extricated herself, standing up, crossing the room, then stepping outside. She glanced back to make sure the door was locked.
“Another one, Natasha?”
Nat turned; Hill was standing there, an amused look on her face. Nat shrugged.
“What was it this time?” Hill said. “Don’t tell me you actually pulled off the sex pollen story again.”
“Nah. Went for something different, failed bioweapon whose effects can be staved off by orgasms,” Nat said. She shrugged. “Same result.”
“I don’t know how you keep finding people dumb enough to fall for that,” Hill said. She glanced at the door. “Have fun?”
“Of course,” Nat said. “You know how much I like the sounds I can make them make.”
“You’ll have to send me the tapes,” Hill said. She chuckled. “She has to have caught on after all that.”
“Doubt it. She was an innocent thing,” Nat said. “Looked up to me, it was cute. Not bad in the test either. Assign her somewhere near me - she seemed very eager to thank me for ‘saving’ her, wouldn’t mind a little gratitude.”
“You got it,” Hill said. She chuckled. “Try not to break this one, Romanov.”
“No promises,” Natasha said.
You stirred; you hadn’t quite passed out, but you needed a good few moments to yourself. You shifted, and whimpered; well, there was no thinking it was a dream, you could still feel the aftereffects. You’d been rather comprehensively fucked by the Black Widow.
You heard footsteps, and then a shadow fell over you; you heard Nat’s voice.
“Okay there, rookie?”
She knelt beside you, and you felt a comforting hand stroke your hair tenderly. You nodded vaguely, then made a noise of discomfort again as you shifted. You were still so sensitive; you weren’t sure your body remembered how not to tingle.
“Take it easy for a few, okay?” Nat said. “Don’t stress.”
You smiled; it was so comforting to hear that Nat did care. After how overwhelming her help had been, you needed that grounding. Even if it had hurt, you knew she had a good reason; it probably had to be that intense.
She rested her hand gently on your forehead. You still weren’t sure what it was she was feeling, but her gaze looked serious enough to you let her. You did feel okay - well, beyond exhaustion.
“Thank you,” you said. “Again. Really.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” Nat said. “Hey, come back to me if you feel anything odd - that should’ve taken care of it, but can never be too careful.”
“R-right,” you said.
You swallowed, a little nervous despite yourself. Still, with Nat’s comforting smile just over you, it was hard not to trust her. She kept gently stroking your hair, calming you down.
“I’m always going to be here for you, rookie,” Nat said. “Trust me on that.”