Dear slumped in his computer chair, the glow of his monitor the only light in his cramped two-room apartment. Empty coffee cups and snack wrappers littered his desk, remnants of a week spent diving headfirst into Marvel Rivals. The game had just launched and he was all in.
Especially because he recently dropped out of college.
Dear stared at the screen, his eyelids heavy. Black Widow's sleek figure dominated the character select menu. Her crimson hair was shoulder-length-ish and swept heavy to one side, framing her piercing green eyes. Her suit clung to her in ways that seemed unfair to reality, emphasizing a figure that no woman in his world could attain unless they were a celebrity.
He didn't pick the other skins. He preferred the classic look, the black suit.
Dear stopped himself from entering another game and checked his phone. It was a text from his boss. Next week, his hours were getting cut.
"Dammit…"
He turned off his phone and shoved the bad news to the back of his head. Ignore it, just…ignore it. His job as a cashier, the mounting rent, the ever-growing abyss of student debt. Dropping out of college had been a necessity, but it left him feeling like a failure. Escaping into games was the only thing keeping him sane.
Yawning, he clicked into another match. Black Widow idle animation came into view in the selection screen. He decided to go back and check her profile.
"Trained from childhood in the infamous Red Room, Natasha Romanova became one of the most feared spies and saboteurs in the world. For years, she put her unrivaled combat skills to use as a member of the Avengers, keeping pace with some of the most powerful beings who ever lived.
Imbued with supersoldier-like treatments that vastly extended her lifespan, Black Widow outlived most of her enemies and allies. But her fight still rages on decades into the future, where she leads the Red Room in its ongoing effort to overthrow the tyrannical Doom 2099."
"A super spy. Imagine if you were real, you'd be able to do anything. Rob a bank, hack into a bank, hell, you could run a bank," he said, laughing. "Imagine being married to her. You'd be able to live the most lowkey life ever."
Dear didn't think of himself as a parasocial individual. These were just casual thoughts towards his favourite main. Nothing more, nothing less.
The gods had other ideas, however.
The screen flickered. Dear paused, blinking. "What the—?"
Before he could process it, the monitor went black. A sudden, brilliant beam of light erupted from the screen, flooding the room. Dear rolled four feet back in his leather chair, shielding his eyes. The light twisted, forming a shape, and then...a sound. A faint hum, like something being constructed. He blinked again, his mind racing, and then froze.
"Huh? "
'I-it can't be…'
Standing in his apartment, in all her impossible glory, was Natasha Romanoff—Black Widow herself.
Dear's jaw nearly unhinged. She was exactly like her in-game counterpart: the sleek black suit adorned with red and silver accents and her short crimson hair. Her alluring long legs and hourglass figure looked almost exaggerated—if it weren't standing right in front of him. Her green eyes swept the room with the precision of a predator, and Dear suddenly realized he was in nothing but his black shorts and t-shirt.
"Uh..." Alex managed, his voice cracking.
Natasha's brow quirked as she crossed her arms, one hand resting near her holstered pistol. "Where am I?" While low and calm, she spoke with a distinct edge that promised danger if the wrong answer followed.
Dear swallowed, hard. His brain scrambled for an explanation that wouldn't get him shot. "You're, uh...in my apartment?" He gestured vaguely to his cluttered surroundings. She did a quick flick.
Natasha fucking Romanoff narrowed her eyes at him, studying this young college man as though he were a puzzle. Anyone could tell he was in his early twenties. Average height, average weight. So painfully average that it was suspect. "And who are you?"
"Dear. Just...Dear. Uh, look, before you do anything drastic—" His voice cracked again as he gestured wildly to the glowing computer monitor. "—you, uh, sort of came out of there."
Natasha turned, her eyes landing on the computer. She leaned down, her hands resting on the desk and bent over. Wow. That was the tightest, hottest, boner-inducing ass ever. Heart-shaped and primed to be slapped. Not to jiggle but to grip to fuck. The best love handles for a woman. Dear desperately tried to keep his gaze anywhere but on her bent over ass. The suit did not hold back.
'Shorts, don't fail me now…'
"This..." she began, frowning and peered over her shoulder, still bent over. "Explain."
"It's...a video game," Dear blurted, scratching the back of his neck. Don't look at her ass, don't look at her ass. "You're a character in it."
Natasha straightened, a hand on the computer desk. "A video game," she repeated.
"Yeah," Dear said. He slowly rolled over in his leather chair. "Do you mind…?"
A slow, careful nod. Dear as he approached the computer tried to play it cool; tried to play within the rules of her universe. If this lady really was Natasha from 2099 and super old, then would wacky multiverse hijinks really be that much of a shock? He started up the game again.
"Obviously, it can't be you-you, but like, a version of you? From another universe, I guess? Maybe?"
Natasha's in-game model appeared on the screen, identical to the woman standing beside him.
"2099…Doom…?" She read a snippet of her biography. "So...this world records my life and turns it into entertainment?"
"I-I mean, it's not like we know you're real. We just, uh, we think you're comic characters."
"Comic characters? Me?"
"Not just yours!" Dear said quickly. "I mean, there are comics, movies, games—everything. It's not just you. It's, like, all the heroes. The Avengers, Spider-Man, Iron Man..." He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. "Anyway, uh, here. You can play if you want?"
Dear got up from his gaming chair and handed her the controller, trying not to think about how surreal this was. Their fingers almost touched as she sat down and took the controller. Yes, he preferred controllers for PC, sue him.
Natasha sat down at the leather chair. He was relieved to see her so calm and cool. Then again, she was a spy and an Avenger. If she panicked and started blasting a dude in black shorts, it wouldn't look good.
Her hands were steady as she tested the buttons, her eyes narrowing as she figured out the controls. In ten and twenty minutes, she was navigating the game with…um, none of the same lethal efficiency she displayed in real life. She was terrible at this game.
Dear stood beside her. He didn't want to move in case she thought he was a threat. Her hair smelled amazing though. 'Focus, Dear,' he told himself, dick stirring in his shorts. 'Don't be that guy.'
Natasha seemed unfazed by her terrible performance in the game. She died three times in a row before calling it quits. "So, this is another universe," she murmured, almost to herself. "And someone here thought it would be a good idea to turn our lives into a game."
"Uh, yeah," Dear said. "Pretty much. I mean, you're kind of a big deal. Like, an icon."
Natasha glanced at him, accidentally going eye level with his crotch and then up at him, lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
"I wasn't…nevermind."
Natasha set the controller down. "If this is another universe, I need to figure out why I'm here." She stood, her presence commanding even in the small room. "I'll need a base of operations."
"You can stay here!" Dear said, a little too quickly. "I mean, uh, if you want. I'm a college dropout and I work as a cashier so it's not much, but..."
Natasha studied him and softened slightly. She appeared to have finally gotten the measure of him. "Thank you," she said simply. "I'll need access to your computer."
"Sure," Dear said. He hesitated as she closed the game and started typing like crazy.
"Can I ask what you're doing?"
"Hacking," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh. Cool." A pause. "Hacking what?"
"Underground." She glanced at him, amused by his wide-eyed expression. "I've been to different Earths before. Every Earth has black markets. If there's a blackmarket, there's the Dark Web. If there's the Dark Web, there's money and backdoors."
"H-how much money are talking? A-and is this safe?"
"I lead the Red Room. I am a hundred and seventy years old. There isn't a hacker in this world or the next better than me."
A bunch of green codes appeared. You know, the type to appear in movies.
Ten minutes later, Natasha stopped typing. She was calm and expressionless as ever. "Check your bank account."
Dear didn't understand and whipped out his phone. When he opened his banking app, his jaw dropped. Over twenty deposits were made to his account.
Account Statement for Alex Carter
Account Number: 4972-XX-XXXX
Bank: Grand Sovereign International
-
Incoming Transactions
Date: December 10, 2024
From: Crimson Ventures LLC
Reference: Strategic Investment Payout #18467
Amount: $12,500,000.00
Status: Completed
-
Date: December 10, 2024
From: Redwood Capital Exchange
Reference: Offshore Reserve Liquidation
Amount: $8,200,000.00
Status: Completed
-
Date: December 11, 2024
From: Obsidian Holdings Inc.
Reference: Anonymous Benefactor Transfer - #0964725
Amount: $15,000,000.00
-
Summary
Total Deposits (Last 3 Days): $115,750,000.00
Flagged Transactions: 0 (Potentially masked by advanced routing protocols)
'W-what!? T-t-thirty five million dollars!? Just like that!? That's…'
"You'll need funds if I'm going to use this place as a base. I'm going to apply for black credit cards under your name too."
"W-wait, hold on. I-if we're going to do this…" Dear inhaled and exhaled. "Won't we need shell companies?"
Natasha blinked, then smiled. "You catch on fast. I'm impressed. Yes, I hacked the bank to stop initial suspicion but you will need to go to the bank in person to convince them of your shell companies."
Dear nodded despite the sweat rolling down his temple. "I can do that. Yeah, that'll be fine."
"Have you ever gone to your bank?"
"Only once when I went to confirm my identity. I'm not a familiar face if that's what you're asking."
Natasha thoroughly enjoyed how quick he was to adapt. "In other words, you're another number. Perfect."
"So…I'm…officially rich?"
She smirked. "You're welcome." Turning back to the computer, she added, "Now, let's see what else your internet knows about me."
"Woah, woah, woah, wait." Dear waved his hands. He didn't dare physically stop her. "Um…be warned, there might be…inappropriate stuff."
Natasha smiled again. She didn't do it often in the game but here, this close, he was glad she did. "I'm almost two hundred years old. I can handle it."
"R-right."
As Natasha delved deeper into her digital doppelgänger's world, Alex stood there, still clutching his phone. His problems—the rent, the job, the debt—they were all gone. And it was all thanks to her.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Dear allowed himself to smile with joy. Maybe life did come with cheat codes, after all.
******
Dear stood in front of the mirror in his tiny bedroom, staring at the suit laid out on the bed like it was a final boss in one of his video games. It was the fanciest thing he'd ever touched, let alone considered wearing: a deep charcoal three-piece suit with subtle pinstripes, tailored just enough to suggest wealth without screaming it. The fabric felt expensive—smooth and lightweight, like it belonged to a man who knew the difference between brands of champagne. It was utterly alien to Alex.
"This feels...wrong," he muttered, pulling the crisp white dress shirt over his shoulders. He buttoned it up, his fingers fumbling slightly over the tiny buttons. The slacks hugged his legs snugly, and as he slipped on the vest, he caught his reflection. It was strange seeing himself in something other than jeans and an old hoodie. "I look like I should be hosting a corporate seminar."
"You look fine," Natasha called from the other room, her voice calm but edged with impatience. "Hurry up. We don't have all day."
Dear reached for the tie—a sleek black silk one—and sighed. He draped it around his neck, attempting to remember how to tie it. He pulled one end over the other, looped it around, and immediately ended up with something that looked like a knot a sailor would reject.
"Okay, I officially give up," he called out.
Natasha appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. She was in normal clothes: black short-shorts and a red shoulderless top. She ordered them from Amazon yesterday and received them this morning. Even in his anxious state and her homey look, Dear couldn't help but notice how effortlessly commanding she looked. How he wanted to listen to her.
"Let me guess," she said with a smirk. "You've never worn a suit in your life?"
"Was it the tie-pretzel?"
Natasha chuckled and walked over, motioning for him to stand still. "Come here, rookie. I'll do it."
He obeyed, standing awkwardly as she stepped closer, taking the tie in her hands. She smelled faintly of something clean and sharp, like metal and the faintest hint of vanilla. Although, weirdly enough, he didn't think it was the same smell as yesterday. Could she change smells? She was a spy.
As she deftly worked the fabric into a proper knot, her eyes flicked up to meet his.
"You really never had anyone teach you this?" she asked, her tone softer now.
Dear shook his head. "Nope. I'm an orphan."
Natasha's hands stilled for a brief moment before resuming their task. "You've done well for yourself, considering," she said quietly.
Dear chuckled lightly. "I don't know about that. College dropout, working a dead-end cashier job, playing too much Marvel Rivals..."
She finished the knot and stepped back, straightening it against his collar with precise fingers. "You're doing better than most. And now, you're about to walk into a bank and set up an account for a shell company. That's not exactly small potatoes."
Dear smiled sheepishly. "All thanks to you."
Natasha's lips quirked in a half-smile, but before she could reply, her gaze dropped. Her expression turned scrutinizing, and without warning, she reached down and cupped his crotch through the fabric of the slacks.
Dear froze, every muscle in his body locking up as his brain screamed at him to process what was happening. "Uh...Natasha?"
It was a light prod, a light massage. She definitely felt his balls. "Does this feel tight? The pants, I mean. Are they uncomfortable?"
Dear face burned. "No, no, they're fine. Totally fine. Perfect, actually. A-a little tight but..."
She withdrew her hand, looking satisfied. "Good. A bit of bulge shows masculinity."
"W-what?"
"It's basic etiquette for male spies," she said dismissively. Although...
She glanced back down for the briefest of moments. 'Heavy...' she thought, her inner monologue carrying a note of idle curiosity. 'Thicker than I expected.'
Dear cleared his throat, desperate to move on. "So, uh...do I need a briefcase or something? Or just walk in there with my 'definitely-not-suspicious' demeanor?"
Natasha grinned, ignoring his obvious deflection. "You'll be fine. Just keep your answers short and act like you belong there. Confidence is key."
Dear adjusted his cuffs, still feeling the heat on his face. "Confidence. Right. I'll do my best."
Natasha stepped back, giving him an approving look. "You clean up nicely, dear. Almost makes me forget you're the guy who spills chips on his couch."
"S-sorry."
"You apologize too much. Please don't. You're a good man but you can be a great one too."
"Right!" He straightened up. An Avenger was telling him this. Don't lose face, Alex! "I got this!"
Dear couldn't help but think that his life had become more surreal with every passing day. And yet, with Natasha by his side, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could pull this off.
******
The next week of his life was crazy, relatively speaking. He went to the biggest bank in his city, got a dozen different elite credit cards, talked to the manager of the bank, and then talked to the visiting Managing Director. All the big boys of his banking company.
Again, for Dear, crazy shit. For Natasha, it was nothing but a step toward finding a way home. Because that was her intention—to go home.
Dear found himself sitting on his couch, controller in hand and playing the PS5 edition of Marvel Rivals (because now he could afford one, yay), while Natasha lounged comfortably beside him, her legs curled up under her. She was wearing his oversized gray hoodie—something he'd never imagined seeing in a million years. It swallowed her frame in a way that was both hilarious and oddly endearing. Her iconic red hair was collected in the hood, and despite her casual demeanor, she still carried an air of confidence that made the room feel smaller.
"You play well," Natasha said, watching intently as Dear struggled through a combat sequence in Marvel Rivals. "Are you winning?"
"Almost…almost…" He licked his lip. Natasha eyed him and his focused expression. He looked nice when he did that. "Phew! Last kill!"
Victory.
Dear pumped a fist and leaned back into the couch. "Why are you even watching me play this? Isn't this, like, weird for you? Watching a video game version of yourself?"
Natasha shrugged, pulling the hoodie sleeves over her hands. "It's...educational. Besides, it's entertaining watching you try to play me."
Dear decided to switch up the skins. Yes, he was a classic guy but when Natasha was right there, it felt a bit off. He decided to go for the MCU Black Widow, the one in the sleek white tactical suit. Switching skins and wanting Natasha to see, Dear provided a slow, cinematic pan of her figure, emphasizing every detail.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Hmm."
"What's up?"
Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the screen. "Does my...ass look bigger in this suit?"
Dear froze, his face heating up. He tried to respond but only managed a strangled choking sound. "Uh...I mean...well, maybe? I don't know."
Natasha's green eyes sparkled with amusement. "Relax, Dear," she said, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I'm not offended. It's just...a little demeaning. They're clearly pandering."
"Oh, um…"
For a moment, Natasha said nothing, simply watching him with that unreadable expression of hers. Then she leaned closer, her voice low and teasing. "I'm kidding. I like having a bigger ass. Two hundreds year old and I'm still going to be strong."
Dear's brain short-circuited. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Natasha chuckled.
He laughed nervously, trying not to overthink her words. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the game filling the room. Dear focused on the screen, but he couldn't help sneaking glances at her. Even in his hoodie, she looked like she belonged in another world—graceful, confident, and completely out of his league.
"Oh. Oh wow."
Dear was on the screen, about to load into another match. He didn't look at Natasha and simply hummed to ask what was up.
"Either you have a pistol or you're happy to see me?"
Happy to...? Oh god. Dear looked down and felt his soul leave his body. His cock was softly through his jeans, large and heavy. The type of bulge that a woman would appreciate and, in this case, was totally accidental. He did not mean to get half-hard.
"S-sorry." He put the controller down and, well, couldn't really do anything. What was he supposed to do, beat it down? Instead, he could only give apologetic eyes to Natasha who in no way was offended. She seemed...impressed.
"I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention so I expected this, but..." Dear bit her bottom lip. She was ogling his bulge. She liked it.
His heart thumped harder in his chest, his face heating up as he ran a hand through his hair. "That's...s-sorry."
Her smirk turned into a full-on grin, mischievous and confident. "Don't be. Because from where I'm sitting, you've been imagining this exact moment since the day we first met. Admit it."
He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he felt his resolve crumble as her gaze dropped to his waist, lingering just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably. His cock, already half-hard from their teasing banter, twitched in response, demanding attention in its cage.
Natasha crawled over. She was all long legs and dangerous curves, and the way she closed the space between them made his breath hitch and his body retreat. Suddenly, Dear was flat on the couch while she was ontop.
"Relax," she murmured, tilting her head as she reached up to toy with the zipper of his jacket. "I'm not going to bite… unless you want me to."
Her fingers brushed against his chest as she slid the jacket off his shoulders, leaving him standing there in just a plain white t-shirt and jeans. The air in the room felt thicker. He could smell her. He could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her hoodie, and the smell of her—a mix of spice and something wild—was driving him insane.
"Tell me, Dear," she purred, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "do you still think I'm out of your league?"
He shuddered at the sensation, his hands lifting instinctively to grip her hips. "God, Nat… I don't know what to say."
"You don't get it, do you? You, my friend, have a big fat cock." She hummed, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "And if you have a big cock, you shouldn't be ashamed. So tell me, what do you want to say?"
"I want to tell you…" he managed. "You're not out of my league. You're… everything."
Her eyes softened for a brief moment before her expression shifted back to playful dominance. "Careful, Dear. Too much flattery and I might have to punish you."
Before he could respond, she slipped out of his grasp, turning away with a wicked grin. "But for now… why don't you follow me?"
He watched, spellbound, as she sauntered toward his bedroom, her hips swaying seductively with every step. The sight of her in his hoodie, leading him like some kind of siren, was almost too much to handle. By the time he stumbled into the bedroom after her, she was already leaning against the foot of the bed, arms crossed and a challenging glint in her eyes.
"Take your clothes off," Black Widow commanded, her tone firm but laced with undeniable warmth. "I want to see what I've been fantasizing about."
Heat rushed to his cheeks, but he didn't protest. Instead, he obeyed, peeling off his t-shirt and tossing it aside before kicking off his shoes and socks. When he reached for the button of his jeans, Natasha stepped forward, pressing a finger to his chest to stop him.
"Let me," she said, her voice husky.
She did not lower herself. She sauntered up to him and got to work. She made eye contact and never let herself go any lower. She worked the button free, then slowly lowered the zipper. Her fingers lingered on his belt, teasingly deliberate as she pulled it loose and let it fall to the floor with a soft clink. The denim pooled around his ankles, leaving him almost completely exposed to her scrutiny.
Natasha's gaze traveled downward, taking in the sight of his thick, straining erection. Her pupils dilated slightly, her breathing quickening as she stared at that cock. She...didn't know how to react. She went wide-eyed and pretended to be unaffected.
But fuuuck. In her head, all she could think was, 'I-is that really his cock?' If it looked big before, it looked big now, held by the thin fabric of his black boxers. How many inches was it already? Eight inches? Nine? Already, it was bigger than any penis she had seen in her past.
Dear could see the slight bit of surprise on her and was happy about it. She liked his cock, that was what mattered. Natasha swallowed thickly, looked up, and pretended to be the dominatrix that she previously was.
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his neck as she whispered, "Let's get started, hm~?"
Then, without warning, she sank to her knees in front of him. His boxers were yanked down and—
*Thwap!*
A hearty ten inch cock flopped on top of her face. It all happened so fast that all the training in her life failed to prepare her. It failed to prepare for this big, heavy cock. Beige in colour, veiny, and with fat balls that churned and smelled of a distinct male essence.
Natasha Romanoff had lived a long life.
But never had she seen or encountered a cock this big.
"I, er...it gets a little bigger," Dear said, nervous he was too small.
"B-b-bigger?" She was Natasha fucking Romanoff, she shouldn't have sounded so meek and pathetic. But in the weight of his cock, witnessing it grew to its full twelve inches....
Holy fuck.
There was no way around it: this was the biggest, most glorious cock she had ever encountered. Thicker on the tip and a bit narrow at the base, yet overall blessed with girth that prevented her fingers from touching. This virgin, this college drop out...
He was a damn stud.
Natasha had to act or else this tool would go to waste. Dear's breath hitched when Natasha's eager fingers wrapped around his shaft, warm and sure. She stroked him once, twice, her eyes never leaving his. "Such a big boy, hm? Have you really never brought a woman?"
"O-only you."
Only her. She who had been the spy of the Red Room. Suddenly, she could feel her cunt tighten. She almost gasped. When was the last time either things had happened? A hundred years maybe? She stared at the angry, throbbing cock in front of her. Shuffling back on her knees, she was eye level with it. This...big cock.
Natasha brought her mouth to the tip of the monster mushroom. He groaned, his entire body tensing as she licked a slow, wet stripe along the underside.
"Fuck…" he muttered, already turning and sitting down on the bed. He couldn't handle it, he was a virgin. He gripped the edge of the bed for support as her mouth descended five inches.
"Mmmmpppph~!❤"
To Natasha, these five inches were harder to deepthroat than defeating Doom. Easily. No question. What should have been an average simple length of cock became so much more with Dear's forearm girth. Her lips sealed tightly around him, her tongue swirled and swirled. Focus on the tip, focus on the tip.
"You're so amazing, Natasha..." She truly was, despite her own reservations about her performance. She was making eye contact, she was sucking, she was doing all the right things. Yet against a monster of this size, it felt futile. Key word: felt.
So she decided to jerk him off from the base. While the first five inches were managed by her lips, the remaining was getting jerked. A blowjob-handjob combo that earned a loud groan from Dear.
Dear knew in that moment that Natasha Romanoff was a keeper! Her head game was unparalleled! Any other man getting their dick sucked this way would cum immediately. He didn't and Natasha noticed that. His big ass dick and huge balls weren't only for show.
"Amazing..." Then he put his hands on her head and like a good slut, she decided to cut the combo off and get to sucking.
When a man put his hand on your head and massaged, you better fucking deepthroat him. That was a rule of the Red Room. Natasha went deeper. Seven inches. Deeper.
"Mmmmppph~❤! Nggghhh~!❤"
Underneath her hoodie, she didn't wear panties. There was no need to be when the only danger had been Dear, an otherwise non-danger. Natasha was gushing wet though, strips of pussy juice falling. Her eyes tried to make contact but they rolled back as she reached the ten inch mark. "Gsshhkkkk~❤! Ngghhhh~!❤"
Then, at long last, she went to base. Her nose touched his pelvis and—
Oh fuck. The virgin nutted. How could he nut with such a dedicated, tight chick going for his cock? He spurted. One cum shot alone made Natasha gush. There was so much. Her eyes widened and from the corners of her lips, his seed leaked.
*Gulp, gulp, gulp!*
Natasha Romanoff was trained. Natasha Romanoff did not live for almost two hundreds to be outdone by a twenty-year-old college student's big dick. She would swallow. She would!
"Gsshhkkk~!❤"
Aside from a couple trickles, she succeeded and following her success...
"Oh fuckkkk...!"
Natasha kept sucking. Sucking after nutting. Sucking to get out allll his cum.
It was probably the single greatest feeling Dear had ever felt while living on this planet. It removed his soul from his body. He felt like a god. He felt that he couldn't go soft just yet.
Lips ripping away from a cock that big was no easy effort. Natasha found her breathing catching her breath in a way that only fighting Thanos would. His cock ended up using her face as its throne. Sitting there, blocking half her face and letting her relax while smelling her musk.
Such a big cock with such fat balls and yet he was still hard? Natasha snorted and smiled. This...this was a cock worthy of her. She kissed the underside of the crown before lifting it up with her two hands.
She stood up and wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking down at virgin man. His cock bobbed as if sensing her gaze. "Still hard, hm?" she said, her voice thick with lust. She bent over and stroked the monster cock a couple times. "Good. We're just getting started❤."
With that, she stripped off her hoodie. As Dear had suspected, she was gloriously nude underneath it. Her breasts were large and perky, her nipples tight and dark against her pale skin, and her pussy glistened wetly, already ready for him.
"They're D-cups." Natasha put a hand on her hips, casually posing. "Like 'em?'❤"
Her hands felt her pale mounds up.
* Throb, throb*
Pre-cum emerged and dripped from the tip of Dear's twelve inch pipe. It did not want anything else but her tight cunt. No hands, no lips, only her hole. He was star-struck or perhaps pussy hungry. Natasha smirked, leaned down, and kissed the tip of his dick.
"Good boy❤."
After that, she touched his thigh, hand gliding along it to go to his arm. She grabbed his wrist and led him to the bed, pushing him backward until he landed on his back. Before he could react, she straddled his hips.
Natasha went down to kiss him deeply, her tongue sliding against his. She was dominating here; taking control and purposely sandwiching his cock between her ass cheeks. "Mm....! Let me show you how it's done❤."
Following the kiss, Dear was like a dead man. He laid there and waited for her to do everything. Natasha was more than happy to. She positioned herself above his throbbing cock, guiding the fist-sized tip to her entrance with deliberate slowness.
Natasha's eyes rolled back. "Mmm, that's itttt~❤! That's a real cock!"
Four inches in and she was already feeling more pleasure than she ever did while masturbating. Sparks were flying, her cunt squeezing tightly around this intruder. It was like nothing else she had ever felt. So big, so thick...
"Nghhhh~!❤"
Keep cool. Keep calm. Do not climax. Not yet. Not like this. Natasha refused to be dominated by a male so much younger than her. She had her pride.
Dear clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to thrust upward as she sank down onto him inch by agonizing inch. The sensation was unreal, her tight, velvety walls squeezing him with incredible force.
When she was fully seated, her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a soft moan, her head tilted back as she adjusted to the feeling of him stretching her. Almost two hundred years and her pussy could not believe it. It was experiencing something fresh.
"Christ, Dear… you feel so good❤."
He could only groan in agreement, his vision swimming as he lay beneath her. But Natasha wasn't done yet. No, she was getting started. With a sly smile, she began to move, rocking her hips in slow, powerful circles that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through both of them.
"Is this what you wanted?" Natasha asked, trembling ever so slightly. If she went too fast, she would immediately orgasm. An instant blackout, she suspected. "To feel me riding you like this?"
"Yes," he gasped, his hands reaching up to cup her big breasts, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples. Natasha's head tilted back.
Fuck, fuck! Just this simple addition made her want to submit! But no! Not yet! She was a fucking Avenger! Act like one!
She picked up the pace ever so slightly. Her thighs flexed and her breathing became heavier.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she muttered so quietly that Dear couldn't hear her. Her boobs bounced and Dear relished the view. Having a redhead bombshell like Natasha take control was no issue for his male ego when her boobs were jiggling like that.
"Dear,Dear, Dearr~!❤ Ngghhh~!❤" Her expression twisted. A small moan squeaked out. Alex throbbed. "Deaaarrr~!❤ Y-you...! Your cockkkkkk....I-I cannnnn't....nngghhhhh...!❤"
She was losing it. Every slide of her wet pussy against his cock was pure ecstasy, her quiet cries of pleasure mingling with his groans. She was setting a rhythm that was spiraling them both closer to the edge. However, she knew this was only because Dear had not thrusted once. Not once! If he did, then it was game over for her pride. Plain and simple.
Natasha arched her back and came closer to his face. She refused to orgasm before a younger man. Her fingers grabbed his shoulder as she rode him harder.
*Slam, slam, slam!*
Her ass was jiggling! Her ass was working it! Dear exhaled loudly. A sigh, almost.
Natasha smiled while her breath came in short, sharp bursts. "Dear…! Y-you...are you liking it?"
"Loving it!" Dear smiled in a way that showed he was not sweating like she was. No, this college dropout was just relaxing. Relaxing! While she was bouncing her ass up and down. "And you?"
This damn virgin monster cock...
'Ngghh!'
Her eyes almost rolled back. "God, Dear…! Y-you're so big… so perfect…" A whimper nearly left her. Nearly. Black Widow did not whimper. "Y-you're stretching me out...!❤"
"Really?"
What a virgin. His innocence, his lack of understanding, it was what made him so endearing to her. It was what made him so dangerous. Her words sent a surge of pride and arousal through him, and suddenly, he wanted to make her moan. He wanted make her say that again and again but in a hotter voice.
He bucked his hips upward.
The first thrust.
Natasha's eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent gasp as she felt him take control.
The world went white. Natasha gasped. Natasha came. It was like being reminded of her first ever orgasm. That completely new view of the world that derived from your own body. That incredible pleasure that she earned simply by fingering herself. Every succeeding orgasm was done in order to match up to that first orgasm.
Finally, finally, after one hundred and seventy years, she did. She felt that same overwhelming sensation again.
*CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!*
All because of this big cock belonging to some random college dropout she met a week ago.
Suddenly, her eyes rolled back. She was cumming for a second time. Already? Yes. The second, third, and fourth sharp arrivals of his cock hugged her womb. It was utterly impossible to ignore.
"Is it good, Natasha?"
"Yes~!❤" She gasped, boobs bouncing as he went faster from the exclamation.
"Hey, you sound...different."
Casual thrusts. Casual kisses to her womb.
"YESSSS~!❤ SO GOOOD~❤! SO GOOOOD~! DEAAR, KEEP FUCKING ME WITH YOUR COOOOCKK~❤!"
Dear happily thrust upward sharply, forcing her to go fully upright as he took charge. Natasha gasped, her head snapping back as the intensity of his movements sent fresh tsunamis of pleasure crashing through her. They could only be tsunami's because her fucking nerves were fried. Her legs were becoming numb.
"DEAAAR❤~! NGGGHHHH~❤! YOU CAN'T...YOU CAN'T BE THIS GOOOOOD~❤!" The Avenger cried out, high and desperate. "YOU'RE TOO GOOD AT THIIIIIS~!❤ YOUR COCK IS TOO GOOD AT THIIIIS~!❤"
He didn't stop, couldn't stop. This face she was making, it was nothing like in the games. And while there was some porn of her, there was nothing like this. This primal need of utter satisfaction. Each thrust was deliberate and commanding, hitting spots deep inside her that made her shake uncontrollably.
"C-CUMMI...nnnghhh~!❤ NGGGHHKKSSK~❤!"
She didn't want to say it so pathetically! No! Her moans grew louder, more frantic, arms at her side as she tried—and failed—to maintain any semblance of control. Thrust, thrust, thrust! As her pale booty cheeks bounced, she realized control wouldn't be possible.
Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow that had killed thousands and spied on the oldest and strongest of government, whimpered. The sound startled them both and Dear actually stop. She was seated, his cock fully inside, gasping for air.
She was looking up at the ceiling. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to shame herself.
"Hngghhhh...gshhkkk...❤"
But the hiccups of pleasure. The saliva falling from the corner of her lips. It was impossible.
Natasha whimpered again as she met his gaze.
Dear was smiling. It was a vulnerability he hadn't expected, and it only made him want to fuck her harder, deeper, until she couldn't think straight.
"So...shoo...good..." Natasha said. "Dear, you...haahh...you're amazing at...at this..."
Her shoulders shook and she panted. Just speaking made her appear so soft.
This was what Dear had wanted.
*CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!*
He decided he wanted to see her even softer. All at once, Natasha was swarmed with orgasms. She could only let out a shriek-ish gasp.
"Do you like that?" The college dropout pounded into the legendary cunt of the Black Widow. A monster cock with hips that were rocketing in her. "Do you like it when I make you whimper like that, Nat?"
Her response was a strangled moan, her body arching as another wave of pleasure crashed over her. "Yes… oh God, yes…! Ngghhhh!❤" She was slobbering. Her voice couldn't speak up as much as it wanted to.
"Say it again," he demanded, his hands tightening on her hips as he slammed into her with brutal force. "I want to hear you beg."
Natasha whimpered again, soft and vulnerable, a sound that shattered the last vestiges of her control. It was a plea, unspoken but unmistakable, and Dear heard it loud and clear. His grip on her hips tightened and he slammed her down harder onto his cock.
"Yessshhh~❤! Yesshhhhh~!❤" Natasha gasped, shaking madly.
His thick fucking dick pressed deeper inside her. Her walls clenched around him, so tight he could feel every ripple of her muscles trying to hold him in place. He thrust upward with renewed urgency, his hips snapping against hers. There was a brutal precision to him.
How? Just how did he learn this? Was it all instinct?
"CUMMIIIIING~!❤"
Like it mattered. She had orgasmed nearly forty times now. A world record in her world.
"Do you want me to stop?" His gentle request vibrated through her body like a low rumble of thunder. "Tell me, Natasha. Tell me if you want me to stop."
She shook her head frantically, her hair cascading around her face like a fiery halo. "No…! No, God, no… don't, nnnngh, don't stop…" Her words came out in desperate bursts, each one punctuated by a sharp intake of breath as he hit a new spot deep inside her. "You feel… TOO FUCKING...ngghhh...good… Dear, I caaaaaan't…❤"
Her confession.
Her submission.
He loved it.
This college dropout had broken the great Black Widow, a feat no torturer in the world had accomplished.
Dear grabbed her ass cheeks, squeezing them hard, reveling in the perfect roundness of them. Then...
*CLAP!*
His butt whipped off the mattress. He didn't touch back down either, his thrusts had him ever so slightly above the bed. He was thrusting, fucking, destroying her pussy.
There was no way around it. Black Widow was forever stretched to his dick. Her white booty cheeks were firm yet yielding beneath his hands. Her training as an Avenger led to this heart-shaped, bootylicious ass and yet here that ass, completely at his mercy. Bouncing and jiggling because of his cock.
"I'M YOURS~!❤ IM YOURS~!❤ YOUR COCK OWNS MY HOLE~!❤ NO OTHER COCK CAN FUCK IIIIIT~❤!" Truly, the Avenger was breaking, making claims that sounded ridiculous—or were they? "I WANT TO STAY! I WANT TO STAY IN THIS WORLD! I WANT TO STAY WITH YOUUUUU!❤"
What?
Dear's butt finally touched the bed again. Softly, he asked, "Really?"
Heavy breathing. Heavy moaning. The admission came from the deepest parts of her heart. They were not ridiculous. They were the truth.
"Haaahh...nggghhhkkkkk....❤"
Thick bangs of her hair hid her eyes. Saliva fell from her lips and onto his chest; or that was what he thought at first. No, while there was saliva mixed in....
There were tears.
She was crying. Natasha gulped, sighed, and found her voice. The thick coats of hair still hid her crazed expression.
"Yes....I...I want to stay..."
They remained still and his hands loosened ever so slightly.
"This week with you...all the games...all the talking...it was more fun than...anything..."
"Really?"
She threw her hair back, revealing her smiling face. "Yes. More...haah...more than anything."
That did it. That made his happier than anything else in the world.
*CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!*
The same could be said for Natasha, her moans turning into breathless cries as her orgasm ripped through her. She fell over, boobs pressed to his chest. Her arms clutched at his shoulders, her nails leaving faint trails of red marks as she clung to him for support. Her green eyes locked onto his, sometimes rolling back as he destroyed her hole.
Because after saying something like that, the girl had to be dicked down. There were no two ways about it. Fucking the shit out of her was the best reward he could give.
He thrust harder, faster, now almost savage as he claimed her hourglass, masturbation-inducing body. So many people were making porn of her online. So many thought they had the right to her body? Well, guess what? Black Widow belonged to him and only him. Each stroke of his cock sent shockwaves through her, her pussy clenching tighter around him with every passing second. She could feel herself losing control, her mind blanking out as the sensations overwhelmed her.
Natasha whimpered. "Cummiinng....ngghhhh~❤!"
Her words were barely out before her body betrayed her, her walls spasming around him as another orgasm tore through her. Her moans turned into screams, her voice echoing through the apartment. She rode out the increasing levels of ecstasy or at least tried to. Whether she succeeded depended on one's view of making an ahegao: tongue out, eyes rolled back, and crying tears of joy. Did making such a face mean the woman had lost?
This raw need to rearrange her guts for only his cock was strong. She shrieked. She gasped. She smiled. She clung to him, D-cup boobs flat and hugging him. Natasha Romanoff was in heaven. Climaxing repeatedly. Climaxing more times than she could count.
She had met her match in Dear. His innocence was a powerful aphrodisiac, and his twelve-inch cock was a weapon of mass pleasure. She had never felt so possessed, so utterly conquered, and she loved every second of it.
By a virgin no less.
"G-gonna cum!" he said between thrusts. "Can I? Inside? I know you can't get pregnant but....I don't care! I don't!"
Hearing his words, Natasha's heart melted. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his collarbone, and kissed him deeply. Their tongues danced, tasting each other to the fullest. She could feel his cock, hard as steel, throbbing inside her, and it drove her wild.
She wanted him to cum inside too.
With a loud, guttural cry, Alex arched his back and he emptied himself into her. His cock twitched and pulsed, delivering thick, hot spurts of his virgin seed deep within her. Natasha cried out as she felt him filling her. She came too and together, they trembled uncontrollably.
He pumped her full of his cum while they kissed.
Once his balls were drained and they needed air, Natasha collapsed onto his chest. Dear held her tightly, his hands still caressing her ass.