natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

⑱+ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞

a/n: milf!reader, buff!nat — you tutored nat when she was younger; when you run into each other years later, it's her turn to teach you some things. porn with *some* plot, g!p nat, kinda pervy nat

warnings: smut, alcohol, morally gray relationship

There's a ring on your finger. Every curve showing so clearly under your dress, emphasizing your body, makes her stare even more. When you turn around, she freezes.

Natasha stepped through the door not expecting much. It's her first academic reception, but even before arriving, she knew it wouldn't be anything worth remembering. It's university-organized, after all. Controlled, formal, not at all the kind of events she usually frequents.

Her outfit is proof of that as well. Ever since tossing the sweater vest into her closet about a year ago, she can't recall looking for it even once. Then she got the invite, and despite her reluctance to wear something that was sure to leave her itching all night, she caved and put it on.

She was right. It is itchy. At least you'll be less likely to look at her and still see the scrawny teenager she was years ago.

"Ms Romanoff", someone says, making her turn around. It's one of her professors. "How are you enjoying the night so far?"

She forces a smile. She's scratching the part of her arm that keeps coming into contact with the sweater vest. "It's very nice. They put a lot of effort into this."

"Indeed they did. They always do. This hall, it's been standing for centuries." He gestures at the tall walls, the oil portraits hanging everywhere. "This place, it's history. It's only fair we make history here as well."

Internally, she rolls her eyes. She's only been to one of his lectures so far — and had to stay for ten minutes afterwards as he pulled her into a quick chat —, but she's already familiar with his antics. As a person, he's impressive. His interests, however, don't overlap with hers at all.

The dean gives a brief welcome speech. Glasses clink, everyone applauds, it's time to mingle. She glances across the room in hopes of seeing you again.

In the end, she doesn't have to look for you. Her professor leads her to the other side of the room, wanting to introduce her to some faculty members. She follows him blindly. When she turns around, her eyes meet yours.

It clicks immediately. Not even a second passed before you recognized her. You cover your mouth, still chewing on some kind of chocolate tartelette, and raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

There's no way you wouldn't have recognized her. Even though she's grown about 13 inches and is now a head taller than you, you know that face.

"No way!", you say, swallowing. "It's you! God, you've grown. Natasha, what are you doing here?"

"I transferred here", Natasha says. Her eyes have flit to the neckline of your dress, which is almost too deep for such a formal event. "After getting my bachelor's."

"Ms Romanoff graduated summa cum laude!", her professor adds. He looks at you. "Do you two happen to know each other?"

"Barely", she says.

"I was her tutor", you say — much to her disappointment. "She was so bright. No wonder you've made it this far."

She gives you a tight lipped smile. Everything about you screams warmth. You're still sweet, still affectionate, so unbothered it hurts. And Natasha? She's trying to figure out how far she can go without it becoming inappropriate. That is, if her thoughts aren't considered inappropriate already.

You smile back at her, but it's much more genuine. Your fingers, manicured and deft, fix her name tag without thinking. You're standing so close she can smell your perfume. Her eyes trace your collarbones and briefly dip to your cleavage again. Everything in her is itching to get you out of that dress.