The Sweetest Seduction- Natasha x Wanda x Reader one shots

professor Romanoff Pt. 3 Natasha X Reader

y/n POV

I groan at my own stupidity and countless mistakes as I gather my belongings together for class. The lecture I've been dreading all week.

I stumble my way inside making sure to sit as far back as I possibly could, away from her gaze, so far back I can hardly hear her voice.

Not that it matters, I'm not paying attention anyway, my mind if far too preoccupied with escapades that the other night consisted of.

I mean I'm not joking, all inappropriate relationships aside, who knew you could finish that many times in one night.

I've been a weeklong high from the treatment she gave me. Her kisses and her touches bringing new emotions I hardly recognised, which presented themselves as my very own paradise sculpted and made for my ultimate pleasure.

If she weren't my professor, I'd be rearranging another session, but she is so I'm not. The only issue I have now, is that I don't thing anyone else will be able to compare. Not a single soul will match her expertise.

In all honesty it's probably a good thing, when I think of it, at least now I can focus on my exams, I got my pleasure now let's get those grades... right?

With the sound of the bell, I come to the realisation that I practically zoned out to another dimension, a sexual dimension, all class and I have literally no idea what content we covered.

"Please make sure you study the content we covered because it will be a huge proportion of your grade, the last catch-up session is on Friday. Good luck everyone!" her voice booms through the hall, wiping all my thoughts from my head.

My relaxed sex fuelled high passing to anxiety as I start to understand just how screwed I am.

Okay so what, I have to sit through a tutoring session, I can do that. I'm not a total screw up ill be just fine. I scream internally.

Ill be anything but fine...

--

Thursday evening, I toss and turn unable to fall asleep, my mind racing with anxious thoughts. It's no use talking myself down because the second I relax, a whole new wave of thoughts crash through my mind.

Dirty thoughts, now of the two its obvious that anyone in their right mind would prefer the latter but I can't afford to let myself go there.

Yet here I am mentally retracing the actions of our lustful night with one hand down my shorts. Remembering how she tasted and how soft her skin felt as my fingertips grazed the heated flesh.

I inhale, smelling the sent of her perfume, as if she were really here with me. My stomach clenches and unclenches as reach closer to edge, barely fulfilling my needs. The tension, hardly subsiding as I realise just how much I desired her touch.

--

Tutor by definition, a teacher that teaches privately to one student or a small group. So why is it when I sit this room the only word that accurately describes her is torturer.

Her tight dress hugs her figure tight, her heels elongate her legs her smile, as sinful as ever when our eyes meet. I'm practically undressing her with my eyes, more thoughts infiltrating my brain as I squeeze my thighs together, taking every opportunity to ease the ever-growing tension between my thighs.

She teaches our class and despite my best efforts I just can't concentrate. I've managed to get more notes down that I did in her lecture, but that's not saying much given that I didn't even write the date on my paper in her lecture.

The rest of my class leave as I attempt to get down the last of the content scribbling it down quickly so I can leave and do something about the pool between my legs.

My thighs squeeze shut, clenching together, my cheeks become flush at the sight of her bending over to pick something up. It's just come to my attention, we're alone again... I absolutely have to leave.

I scramble my things together knocking my phone onto the floor, she rushes to me crouching down to pick up the cracked device from the floor, griping my thigh for support. Once again, my thighs clench shut, only this time without thinking, I've trapped her hand between my legs.

The contact of her soft hand soothing my leg, I can't decide whether I'm thankful I chose to wear a skirt or whether it was my biggest mistake.

My body evidently taking extreme measures to ease the throbbing and pooling but despite all its work it comes to no avail.

She hands me my phone and I pace it on my desk, with furrowed brows, I release her hand, and she uses it to push herself off the ground.

"Is everything okay?" she asks innocently.

"umhum" I hum standing from the plastic chair, only to be meet with her gaze looking between me and what I now see is a wet patch on the chair.

Definitely regret the skirt.

"Oh." She says barely above a whisper. I feel exposed and uncomfortable, desperate to leave I throw my bag on to my shoulder brushing past her. My back grazing across her front, she grabs my hips not letting me leave.

I don't turn around; I take in a shaky breath. "Let me go." I whisper, her hands remove themselves from my sides. I don't move. I drop my bag, her hands reach around to my waist, I intertwine my fingers with hers.

Her warm breath fans over my neck as I melt under her touch. Hesitantly I move her hands around my stomach, then lower, to the hem of my skirt.

Urging her to lift the material, her lips latch onto my neck as the material bunches around my waist, exposing my soaked underwear.

"Y/n, you don't want this." She husks.

"Yes, y-yes I do." I stammer out. Her fingers glide over the wet lace rubbing rhythmically, with each motion my body becomes more and more flustered. There's something about how wrong this is that makes it even hotter.

I pull her hand from me, truing around and flipping her around in one swift motion so that her back is to mine. I find the zipper of her dress pulling it down painfully slowly, I trail kisses down her spine until I can finally the dress falls off.

I push on her back forcing her front to lie over the desk next to me earning a sweet groan from her lips, I drop to my knees, linking my fingers in the band of her thong pulling it down her thighs. Only to be greeted with the same embarrassingly wet garment. Her heels still on, which only turned me on more.

I run my fingers between her letting them disappear inside her, she moans out loudly with continuous motions and floods of grunts I feel her walls tighten around me.

She's quick to stand back up turning to face me, tearing my clothes off my body in pure urgency. She lifts me by my thighs placing me onto the desk. She spreads my legs as I prop myself up on my elbows.

Sweat glistening on my chest as her tongue wraps itself around my clit, teasing me over and over again until she finally gives in.

She inserts two fingers curling them against my g-spot without warning by body unwinds my arousal squirting from me dripping down into her mouth. A sight I will never forget.

"Good girl." She praises against my core, which is still calming down from the overwhelming pleasure I'd just experienced.

I help her up, kissing her, cleaning her my arousal from her chin. "Thank you, Miss Romanoff, this study session has been extremely... helpful." I tease flirtatiously.

"You know, I didn't think you wanted anymore of my 'tutoring sessions' after last week." She mocks.

"Somehow I think I need to rethink my decision."

"Just so you know, this, won't be happening again until you make that decision." God, she's killing me, but I know she's right.

I'm just not sure I'm ready to let go of my trauma just yet. We redress and leave, once again like nothing happened.

Part 4?