#reader imagine

“You two keep staring at me like I just confessed to grand larceny.” She giggled, shrugging with faux-innocence. “It started as a total accident. Victor fixed the leaky faucet in the bathroom. Finally, after I’d been asking for, what, three months? I was so relieved I practically dragged him into the bedroom and blew him until he forgot his own name.”

Maria snorted into her glass, shaking her head. “Real romantic.”

“It was,” Wanda insisted, mock-indignant. “But then the next weekend he cleaned out the gutters without me saying a word. So I thanked him properly—let him eat me out on the kitchen counter until my legs stopped working.” She paused, savoring their reactions. “Two accidents in a row made me wonder. So the third time he took my car for an oil change and full wash? I rode him in the garage before he’d even put the keys down.”

Natasha’s brow arched, her fingers stilling around her glass. She didn’t laugh; she simply studied Wanda. “And he hasn’t caught on?”

“Not once.” Wanda’s voice dropped, the satisfaction clear as day on her face. “He just thinks he’s suddenly the world’s most attentive husband and the sex is better than it’s been since our honeymoon. Win-win.”

Natasha leaned in closer, cheeks a little warm from the vodka but eyes focused. “Walk me through the escalation. How do you decide what equals what reward?”

Tilting her head, Wanda set her margarita aside and leaned on her arms, giving Natasha her full attention. “You’re not just asking for gossip reasons, are you?” she teased, before it shifted into something almost conspiratorial. “You’re wanting to take notes.”

Natasha didn’t deny it, smirking as she waited.

Wanda exhaled a quiet laugh. “Fine. Here’s how I broke it down once I realized it worked.” She ticked off points on her fingers, deliberately. “Small stuff—trash out, dishes loaded and actually run, counters wiped—those stack. Three of them in a week? Handjob—it’s quick, simple, and most of the time, I get fingered while I do it, so we both walk away loose and happy.”

Maria whistled, mildly impressed by their friend’s cunning, but Wanda’s gaze never left Natasha.

“Medium jobs—vacuuming the whole house, doing laundry, changing the sheets, stuff like that? Things that genuinely shave real hours off my weekends?  He does two of them without me having to ask or without me having to explain what needs done? Oral. Either I blow him until he can’t feel his toes or he goes down until I can’t feel mine.”

Natasha’s fingers drummed along her glass as she took it all in.

“Now, the big stuff? Stuff that’s been genuinely dragging me down and grinding my gears? If he accomplishes those tasks, we have full, no-holds-barred, fuck-until-we-forget-our-names sex because once that weight is gone—once I don’t have that stress or irritation weighing me down? I want to climb him like a tree. Because suddenly I have the energy to want him. That’s the part he didn’t realize sometimes. Those little things added up and I didn’t want him as much because I was spending all of my time considering the mess around us.”

Wanda sat back, taking a healthy gulp of her drink before looking at Natasha seriously.

“It’s not some rigid contract and I don’t just… force it. Like, I want to because I’m not ready to strangle him anymore. I don’t have to nag, I don’t have to do it myself, and we’re having the kind of sex we had in our twenties. It’s fantastic.”

Natasha knew all about that frustration.

She loved you—god only knows how much she loved you—but you were notorious for your half-finished projects around the loft. A sink full of mugs you swore you’d handle “in a minute”, the boxes from where you’d moved in six months ago still scattered around the hallway and closet, laundry that always would be started until you forgot about it and it’d sit in the washer for three days…

She loved you—but the clutter was starting to feel like a third presence in your bed.

It helped that Wanda’s system wasn’t cruel; that’s the part that hooked her. It wasn’t punishment or nagging or begging or that cold score-keeping Natasha hated in other couples. It was motivation, turning your genuine desire to help into something that stuck. Something that rewarded the effort you were already putting in with something she loved giving you: herself. Her time, her pleasure, her love…

The truth was—she fucking wanted you. Constantly. But your sex life had started falling off a bit because she was frustrated. If this brought that back and solved ninety percent of the issues ailing your otherwise incredible relationship?

“I know you’ve been struggling with the same hang-ups, Nat,” Wanda murmured sympathetically. “She tries, we all know she does, but the energy fizzles out when her brain goes a little… haywire. It’s not about turning her into some obedient robot or prostituting yourself for clean counters. It’s just… giving the effort a little extra gravity to help it stick. It’ll just make her feel like you can’t keep your hands off her when she makes your life easier, which… let’s be honest, you already struggle with on a good day.”

Winking, Wanda finished her drink before growing serious.

“If it doesn’t work or it makes you feel weird, you stop. No harm. But if it does work…” she trailed off for a moment, “then you get help you need around the apartment and she gets the version of you that isn’t quietly burning with frustration—and you both get your wild, ‘don’t call us this weekend, we’re not leaving the bed’ sex life back.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what we need. More opportunities for us to walk in on them getting it on in a bathroom…” Maria grinned cheekily.

“Or the car…” Wanda chimed in.

“Or the bushes at Tony’s. Remember New Years?”

“Or—“

“Okay! I get it,” Natasha laughed, lifting her drink in a quiet salute. “But… you’re right. Might just be worth it.”

-X-

The smell of eggs and fresh coffee dragged Natasha into consciousness the next morning, eyes blurry and head pounding from the aftermath of too many shots last night. She knew she shouldn’t have accepted Maria’s challenge—

And her hangover was quick to remind her she wasn’t twenty-five anymore.

Wandering down the hall into the kitchen, wearing one of your oversized tees and a pair of silk sleep shorts you always teased her about, she froze in the doorway at the sight. You, in a tank top and shorts, plating eggs and bacon. But what surprised her most?

The kitchen wasn’t a goddamn disaster zone.

Countertops? Wiped off and sparkling (okay, maybe not sparkling but let a woman dream). Sink? Empty, besides the pan you had just set in there after emptying the contents onto plates. The trash bag? Sitting beside the door, tied and ready to go out to the chute. Dishwasher? Already humming as it cleaned the dishes from last night and this morning.

You’d cooked and cleaned up after yourself without her having to ask—

She pinched her hip just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Crossing the space, she looped her arms around your waist from behind and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“Morning, chef,” she teased, voice husky and thick with sleep. Another soft kiss, this one grazing your earlobe as she stared at the breakfast on the counter. “You trying to spoil me before I’ve even had coffee?”

Her hands dropped to the waistband of your boxers, fingertips dipping just below to feel the soft skin beneath.

“I know you got in late last night, so I thought I’d make breakfast. I know how your ‘girls’ nights’ tend to go with those two,” you murmured, twisting in her arms until you could kiss her gently. “Morning, baby.”

She sighed happily into the kiss, letting it linger as her lips parted, tasting the too-sweet creamer from your coffee as she leaned against you. When you pulled back, she didn’t let you go far, palms sliding up over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin material of your shirt.

“Yeah, we might’ve… tied one on last night,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “Victor had to come outside to help carry Wanda into the house.” She cringed, remembering how… graphic Wanda had been when she draped herself across the blond man, “whispering” in his ear what she wanted him to do to her once they were inside.

“Whispering” of course equaling out to: Wanda having no idea how loud she was actually being and the Uber driver learning way too much about the Sokovian’s sex life.

Natasha made sure to give him five stars as an apology, and a decent sized tip.

“This is a nice surprise though.” Her hand slid up to rest over your heart, thumb drawing lazy circles. “I know it’s my turn to take out the trash but would you mind taking it to the chute for me? My head is still objecting to light and the hall is so bright…”

Her eyes were soft, almost pleading, but she couldn’t help herself. You’d unknowingly already done two things—two!—without her needing to ask (because not only had you made breakfast—something you often didn’t do because you forgot eating was a necessity—but you’d also cleaned up) and that… that alone made her thrilled.

You glanced over at the bag and nodded. “Oh, yeah, I can do that. Uh, hold on.”

Disappearing deeper into the apartment, you grabbed the small bags from the bathroom and office before tying them off and snagging the bag beside the door. It was a short walk, ten steps down to the chute, but for Natasha—

It was perfect.

You’d taken all of the trash—all of it—and somehow, that was hotter than lingerie. Because now things were cleaner, even if only slightly. But it was a goddamn start.

“Done and done,” you announced, nudging the door closed with your foot when you returned.

Natasha’s mouth curved in a warm smile as she closed the gap of space between you, hands trailing over your chest up to your hair.

“Good girl,” she whispered, dragging you into a deep kiss that made your toes curl against the tile. You could never really think when her tongue was in your mouth and her body was pressed tight against yours.

“Wow,” you exhaled as she finally pulled back, a dazed grin on your face. “That was…”

She didn’t wait for you to finish, wrapping her fingers around your wrist as she dragged you over to the couch and shoved you down. Your eyes went wide, a quiet huff escaping as you landed, but the feeling of her moving to straddle your hips cut off any moment of protest.

Her hands skimmed over the hem of your shirt, drifting under the thin fabric as they ghosted over your stomach, your ribs—

Before one diverted downward, snaking into your shorts.

Her mouth claimed yours in a hungry, languid kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip as her fingers wrapped around your stiffening length. “You take such good care of me,” she whispered, releasing your lip with a quiet ‘pop’, “now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

A guttural, broken sound escaped your throat as her thumb swept over the crown of your cock and your hips jumped upward slightly.

“T-Tasha…”

“That’s it,” she cooed, leaning forward until you could feel her nipples, tight and pebbled, pressing against your own through the thin layers of your shirts. She kept her rhythm unhurried at first, long strokes from base to crown, watching every flicker across your face like she was cataloguing every twitch.

Every time her hand glided up your shaft, the world narrowed down to the feeling of her. Her touch, her warmth, her scent…

God, you were addicted.

One hand slid up her thigh, dipping under the leg of her shorts as your fingers found her slit, thumb brushing the swollen bundle of nerves you found there. “Nat…”

Her breath caught, a soft whine escaping her throat as your fingers parted her folds. She didn’t slow her hand; if anything, her pace grew steadily faster, her hips rolling instinctively into your touch.

“Fuck, just like that,” she murmured, grinding her clit against your thumb when she decided you were a little too distracted by her hand. “Just like that...”

You swallowed her moan as two fingers pressed into her entrance, the sounds of her cunt obscene as she rode your hand with abandon. Her tongue dipped past your teeth, hand stroking base to tip over and over until every fucking nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” you groaned between kisses, feeling the way her arousal soaked your hand with every thrust. Every curl of your fingers coaxing more from her.

“Because of you,” she gasped against your lips, voice cracking on the words. “Because you took care of me this morning.” Her cunt clenched hard around your fingers, fresh heat dripping down to your knuckles as she rode your hand shamelessly. “Keep going. Fuck, keep going…”

You bucked up into her grip, lips falling open as her hand stroked faster, her thumbnail teasing the head. Her shorts were so wet they clung to your hand as you fingered her, your cock throbbing almost painfully as the both of you neared your peak.

Minutes passed… or, you assumed it was minutes. It could’ve been seconds. All you knew was that your girlfriend was moaning desperately and your cock was aching so much you could feel it in your fucking teeth.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she breathed, walls fluttered around your fingers.

Her hips jerked as you crooked your fingers, dragging the tips over that perfect spot inside her. Her breath fractured against your mouth, her hand clenching just right and—

“Fuck,” you groaned, spilling across her hand, head growing fuzzy as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

The sudden rush of your release in her hand and the way you kept working your fingers despite your own climax sent her teetering over the edge. She clamped down hard, riding out the ecstasy in shuddering waves. Her free hand gripped the nape of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to gravity, her nails pressing crescents in the skin beneath her fingers.

“…fuck,” she laughed breathlessly, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your parted lips. “Look at you… making me come before breakfast.”

You offered a goofy grin, melting boneless into the soft cushions, completely oblivious to the way Natasha’s mind was racing.

The way she was planning…

-X-

The last few days had been… better. Not perfect—not by any stretch of imagination—but you were better about remembering the little things which, honestly, was making her life a hundred times easier.

Progress was still progress.

Nudging open the loft door, Natasha’s heels dangled from one hand, briefcase in the other. The day had been a marathon of back-to-back depositions, a client who lied to her face twice, and traffic that turned a thirty minute commute into an hour. To say she was tired was a fucking understatement.

She paused for a second when she realized you weren’t in the living room but she could hear sounds of something odd in the bedroom. Wandering down the hall, she exhaled as she stepped into the room, expecting the usual sight of your boxes colonizing the floor with your half-folded clothes draped over them like flags she wanted to burn—

But what she found knocked the breath from her lungs.

You were kneeling in front of a box—the only box not broken down and stacked in the corner—and your clothes were hanging on the rack or sitting folded in the open dresser drawers she’d cleared out for you. The same drawers you hadn’t used before now.

She leaned against the doorframe, her earlier exhaustion bleeding into genuine surprise. “Well… someone’s been productive today,” she said, her voice soft but undeniably thrilled.

“The cafe was dead so Steve sent me home early,” you explained, shrugging as you glanced over your shoulder at her. “I got bored so I started working on putting stuff away. Figured I should maybe start acting like I actually live here.”

Grinning cheekily, you tugged out the last pair of underwear from the box and folded them before setting them in the dresser.

She knew you were joking, but the fact you’d finally taken the step without her having to ask meant more than you knew. She’d joked about it a few times—that you lived out of those boxes like you were expecting to get thrown out—and to know you finally bit the bullet (so to speak) and staked your claim.

She crossed the space in three slow strides, her palms settling on your waist from behind as her fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt.

“Acting like you live here?” she echoed playfully, kissing the nape of your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Her digits wandered downward, lingering just above the top of your shorts, her chest plastered across your back. She was taking it all in—

And fuck, she liked what she saw.

“I’m proud of you, malyshka,” she whispered, “finish up, then come find me.”

Your brow arched, but the last thing you were going to do was argue when she was looking at you like that. By the time you had the box broken down and the remaining empty hangers hung up, you were practically panting. Hoping desperately that you’d walk out there and see—

Stepping around the frame, your mouth was nearly watering at the sight that greeted you. Natasha, bare and spread on the bed, her fingers lazily teasing her folds. She parted them slowly, just enough to show you how swollen and ready she was.

“Come here, detka,” she murmured softly, smiling faintly. “Come make me forget everything but that pretty mouth of yours.”

You dove—really, there was no other word for it—onto the mattress, scrambling up the comforter until your mouth was level with her cunt. Her digits tangled in your locks, guiding your tongue to her wet heat, back arching the instant your lips sealed over her clit.

“Fuck, just like that,” she whined, hips rolling as she ground against your face.

Every lap of your tongue sent sparks of pleasure up her spine and when you flattened it, licking from her entrance up to her clit, her breath hitched so hard that it sounded painful. Her free hand massaged her breast, tugging at her nipple sharply, while her grip on your hair tightened.

“Don’t st—” her words dissolved into a needy moan as your tongue plunged into her heat, flicking and curling teasingly before returning to the swollen bundle of nerves. Her body went taut, hardly breathing as a symphony of moans and whimpers escaped her throat. “R-right there, detka. Oh god…”

Your hand left her thigh, pressing low on her belly and pinning her to the bed as your tongue worked relentlessly. She bucked hard against the pressure, a raw cry ripping from her throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” her hand yanked your head hard, dragging you as close as humanly possible.

When her thighs clamped around your head, all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart and the obscene sounds of her cunt beneath your tongue. It was filthy and desperate and fuck, you loved eating her out…

She came with a keening whine, hips grinding helplessly against your face, chasing the spasms that bordered on overstimulation by the time they finally ebbed. She was simultaneously nudging your head away with one hand, while the other kept you buried.

It was confusing if you were being honest but you were content to lap up her juices, claiming every drop until she finally pushed you away.

“Jesus, you’re too good at that,” she panted, dragging you up until she could crush her mouth against yours.

“…I really like eating you out. It’s a top tier delicacy,” you mumbled against her lips, smiling faintly.

She snorted, cheeks flushing red as she shoved your head back. “God, you’re incorrigible.”

-X-

Natasha… was concerned.

You’d been doing so good for the last few weeks, but this was a test she wasn’t sure would go the way she’d hoped. A handjob here and there, occasional oral… and you were actually managing to keep up with tasks around the loft without needing a reminder.

Sure, you still had mind-blowing sex often, but the truth was: Wanda was right. When she wasn’t wanting to strangle you or burn the loft down because of all the clutter, she wanted to fuck you stupid. Constantly.

The kind of sex you’d had during the first year of your relationship when you were both awful at keeping your hands to yourselves.

She loved it; organization and orgasms.

But now her family was here and you were in charge of finishing dinner while she caught up with her mom and sister. Granted, Alexei was in the kitchen with you, but that almost might’ve been worse because the two of you together were trouble.

She was lingering in the doorway, watching you both with a critical eye (if she was waiting for a fire to erupt because of Alexei and a “vodka sauce I made in the motherlands”, she’d never admit it), before Yelena’s hand was wrapping around her wrist and dragging her into the living room.

“The kitchen is fine. Papa and your girlfriend are bonding over meat,” Yelena said, steering her over to the couch and shoving her down. She claimed the other side of Natasha while Melina lounged in your usual chair. “Alright, spill: what did you do?”

“Yes, what has changed? The apartment looks like adults live here, you look like you’ve slept more than four hours, and now (Y/N) is finishing dinner alone without being asked. Explain.” Melina arched a curious brow.

Natasha exhaled through her nose, buying a second by smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her jeans. “I started reinforcing positive behavior,” she said carefully. “When she finishes things that make my life easier, I make sure she knows how much I appreciate it. Very… personally.”

Melina’s head tilted, processing while Yelena’s eyes narrowed, then widened as horrified realization dawned on her.

“So… sex?” Yelena asked, bluntly, nose crinkling at the idea of Natasha having sex.

Natasha shot her a look. “Yelena,” she warned, but she was cut off Yelena’s laughter.

“Oh my god, you are bribing your girlfriend with orgasms.” Her amusement faltered as the words dawned on her, face scrunching in disgust. “Ew, please tell me your couch is still clean.”

“It was never clean,” Natasha muttered, smirking faintly when Yelena squealed in horror, practically throwing herself onto the other recliner, though her smile dimmed at the look in Melina’s eyes. “Mama… I’m not prostituting myself for clean countertops.”

Melina leaned forward, studying Natasha intently. “I only want to know that you are not forcing yourself to perform gratitude. You’ve been wound tight as a wire for months. If this… thanks is coming at the cost of your own comfort—”

“It isn’t,” Natasha cut in, meeting Melina’s gaze. She wasn’t defensive, just… hoping Melina would understand. “I… I want her constantly. I always have. The difference is that now when she finishes something that’s been bothering me, the want isn’t tangled up in resentment. There’s no mental block or voice in my head asking why she can… touch me but can’t put her damn socks in the hamper.”

Yelena’s playful squirming at the idea of Natasha having sex (gross!) faded into something more thoughtful as she studied her sister. It had been a while since Natasha had seemed so… relaxed. Calm.

“Good,” Melina finally replied, nodding once. “Then keep doing it.” She paused thoughtfully. “Maybe I should try something similar with your father.”

Yelena recoiled so hard she nearly tipped out of the recliner. “Mama, no. Hard no! I do not need that visual.”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “God, please. Never again. We are not discussing your sex life with Papa. Ever.”

From the kitchen, Alexei bellowed—needlessly, because the fucking loft wasn’t that big, “Food is ready!”

Natasha and Yelena both scrambled up, grateful for the interruption, and Natasha nudged her sister as they walked into the kitchen.

“This is your fault.”

Yelena glanced at her father, then her mother, and cringed. “I have many regrets.”

-X-

The front door clicked shut behind Alexei’s final booming goodbye, leaving the loft suddenly quiet except for the low hum of the dishwasher finishing its cycle. Natasha slipped the deadbolt, leaned her back against the door for a beat, and let the silence settle. The apartment gleamed, counters wiped, leftovers neatly stacked in glass containers in the fridge, and not a single stray fork in the sink. You’d done it all, jumping up between courses to clear plates, wrapping foil over bowls, even sweeping the floor while she hugged her mother one last time.

“I am so tired I can’t feel my toes,” you groaned, sprawled out on the couch.

Natasha smirked as she walked over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table as she lifted your feet into her lap. Her palms slowly massaged from your ankles up to your calves. “My poor baby,” she cooed teasingly. “You were incredible tonight.”

Her hands slid up to your thighs, kneading the muscles with deliberate pressure.

“Every time I looked up, you were doing something else to make this night perfect,” she praised, the teasing softening into something genuinely appreciatively as she studied your face.

She set your feet down and stood, grabbing your hand as she tugged you up.

“Bed. Now.”

You blinked in surprise, but followed along like a diligent girlfriend. Usually when Natasha’s family left, she’d bathe for an hour to decompress, not… this.

(It genuinely didn’t click in your head that her lack of exhaustion came from you helping her take care of everything.)

Shoving you towards the bed, Natasha arched a brow. “Strip. I want you on your back.”

Laughing, you were quick to tug your shirt over your head and toss it aside, your jeans hurriedly joining it on the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

Natasha’s eyes tracked every movement as you stripped, watching the way your stomach flexed, the soft weight of your breasts, the line of your hips as your boxers fell away. You could feel that green gaze sweeping over every inch as you flopped into the middle of the bed, cock already half-hard as you stared down the bed towards her.

When she was certain she had your attention—which wasn’t hard, honestly—she began to pluck the buttons of her blouse open, one by one, until it pooled around her bare feet. Black lace came loose with a single flick of her fingers and by the time she was standing naked at the end of the bed, a sight you’d never get tired of seeing, you were panting like you’d run a damn mile.

“Christ, Nat,” you breathed, cock flushed and twitching at the view.

She crawled up the mattress, palms gliding over your knees, spreading you wider as she settled between them. “You cleaned this morning without me asking. Helped prep dinner for five, finished it solo while I caught up with my mom and sister… and didn’t complain once.”

She leaned down, lips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing just enough to make the muscles beneath her mouth jump. Her hand wrapped lazily around your length, stroking slow and firm as she coaxed you fully hard with practiced ease.

“That’s not a small thing, detka. That’s huge.”

Her tongue traced a wet line from the base to the tip of you, swirling around the head before she took you into her mouth, throat relaxing as she swallowed you down until her nose pressing against your skin. She held you there, humming softly, before pulling back with a deliberate suction that left you slick and aching.

She sat up, shifting high enough to straddle your hips. Her palms braced against your chest, thumbs teasing your nipples as she rocked forward, her slick folds dragging along your cock.

“Just lay back and enjoy,” she whispered, guiding the head of you to her entrance, sinking down just enough to take the tip before stilling. “I want to show you just how thankful I am…”

Her hips rolled torturously slow, taking you inch by inch until she was seated on your lap, walls clenching tight around you. A shudder ran through her, head tipping back and throat flushed bright in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so deep, detka…” she moaned. “Tell me how you want me to ride you… tell me what you want…”

“Use me… I like it when you use me,” you admitted, hands surging up to grip her hips possessively. “When you treat me like I’m just a toy for your pleasure…”

Natasha’s breath hitched audibly, the words washing over her like rain. It wasn’t often that you let her take control, the two of you often playfully fighting for control, so to hear that?

God, she was going to savor every second of this.

Her nails dug slightly into your chest as her thighs flexed. She lifted so agonizingly slow, until only the head remained inside, before dropping back down in one smooth, hard motion. The slap of skin on skin was barely audible over the low moan that tore from her throat, her hips lifting and falling over and over as she set a rhythm.

She didn’t look at you right away. Her head was tipped back, eyes half-closed and lips parted as she rode you like the feeling of your cock inside her was all that mattered; like the feeling of you was the only thing that mattered in her world.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” she rasped, leaning forward to nip at the expanse of your throat. “Stay still. Let me take what I want.”

The bed beneath you creaked as her pace quickened, her hands falling to your knees when she arched her back, breasts bouncing with every greedy rock of her hips. She was chasing her climax shamelessly, using you like a toy made just for her.

“God, baby… you look incredible like this,” you groaned, one hand leaving her hip to drop between her thighs, your thumb circling her clit roughly.

Her hips snapped down hard, grinding you as deep as she could go at the first touch.

“Detka—” the word fractured on a gasp, her nails scoring lines down your thighs as she leaned back farther. Every roll of her body felt like electricity in her veins until her thighs were trembling. She didn’t slow—couldn’t—riding you faster. It was brutal but you didn’t care; all that mattered was the woman above you looked ready to shatter and you were desperate to drive her over the edge.

When you pinched her swollen bundle of nerves gently, her entire body seized, the noise that escaped her throat making your cock twitch desperately inside her. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts, occasionally glinting in the moonlight from the window, and she looked like a fucking painting. Like some art you’d find in an overpriced gallery.

“Tasha…”

She didn’t say a word, her cunt fluttering wildly as she slammed down on final time, the orgasm ripping through her. Her back arched to the point it honestly looked painful and you surged up, looping your arm around her waist as you helped her ride out every last wave of ecstasy. Your hips rocked to meet every trembling grind from Natasha, her arms lifting shakily to wrap around your neck as she buried her face against your throat.

“…holy shit,” she whispered against your skin, “I think I saw God… and she looked like my girlfriend.”

You laughed breathlessly, still buried deep in her cunt as her walls milked you with helpless clenches. “That so?”

She nodded wordlessly, mouth trailing over your neck as she slowly ground against you. “Uh huh… think you can hold out a little longer, detka? I’m not through with you yet.”

-X-

Two Months Later

Things had gotten so much better over the last two months. The loft was clean, the sex was better than it’d been in months, and Natasha was genuinely… happy.

On top of that, you’d actually remembered her birthday. Granted, both of you were horrible at remembering the important dates until the day of but you’d actually planned something. It was small—a day out for her with her friends—but it was still sweet that you’d managed to plan something.

So when Wanda and Maria mentioned meeting you for dinner at the little Italian place she liked in Brooklyn, she hadn’t thought anything about it.

As Maria parked the car, Wanda slipped out first, wandering inside to check on “wait times”, slipping through the side door of the building left cracked open. She’d sent you a message five minutes ago, informing you they were two blocks out, so everything was set up and waiting.

Wanda peeked into the private room, beaming when she saw you standing awkwardly in the archway of the door. Soft lights were strung up around the room and everyone Natasha adored was crammed into the private space—her family, a handful of friends, and one already tipsy Tony who looked… unusually irate but there wasn’t time to question that.

“Show time,” Wanda whispered with a thumbs up before slipping out to meet Natasha and Maria at the entrance.

A few moments later, long enough to leave your heart pounding in your ears and the box in your pocket feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, Natasha’s friends led her into the room and she froze.

Her eyes went wide as she took in the smattering of faces sprawled out around the room before her gaze met yours. You were wearing that suit she loved seeing you in, standing there with a bashful grin as you lifted your glass in a quiet toast and the others followed.

“Happy birthday, Natasha.”

A disbelieving laugh broke from her throat as she pressed a hand briefly over her chest. “You absolute sneak. No wonder you sent me out with Wanda and Maria all day.”

Grinning, you crossed the room to wrap an arm around her waist, tucking her into your side. “And here you thought your biggest surprise was gonna be me actually remembering to say ‘happy birthday’ this morning.”

“…who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” she teased, lifting her hand to brush over the buttons near your heart, her expression softened with wonder.

Alexei cut in before you could respond, voice booming far too loud in the tiny space, “She is good girl! Planned everything like a general. She—”

Melina lifted her hand, slapping it over Alexei’s mouth casually, like she’d done it a million times before while Yelena just shook her head and muttered, “Volume, Papa.”

“So, gifts first, then food. Because your sister and Clint got into a breadstick eating competition while we were waiting for you and I’m afraid if we feed them anything else right this second, we might actually have to carry them out in wheelbarrows.”

Leading Natasha over to the seat that was designated for her with a large BIRTHDAY GIRL sash around the back, you took the seat beside her as everyone started passing over boxes and envelopes.

A sweet framed photo from a barbecue over the summer from Steve (no, she didn’t tear up, dammit. The garlic in the air was just strong)! A coffee mug from Clint that read: World’s Okayest Lawyer.

One by one, the people who loved her showered her in gifts and every new, thoughtful or silly present left her smile just a little wider.

Finally the pile dwindled to the envelope you’d placed in front of her. A spa weekend voucher for her, Wanda and Maria to the resort upstate she’d mentioned once in passing. Natasha’s brows lifted high in surprise, genuinely touched. “You bought us a whole weekend?”

“I—well, Victor paid for Wanda, I paid for you and we split Maria’s. It’s a joint gift, from us,” you explained with a sheepish grin. “But… I do have one more gift for you that should make up for me pestering our friend.”

You stood, kissing her temple lightly as you shifted to stand in front of her. Her forehead scrunched a little in confusion when you didn’t move to grab anything, but that uncertainty quickly bled away as you squared your shoulders and the room went silent.

(You might have told them ahead of time what you were planning.)

“Natalia Romanova, you are my heart. My soul. You are sunshine on a rainy day and a fireplace in winter. Every moment of life with you has been a blessing and every fucking—oops, shit, sorry, Wanda told me not to swear during this,” you muttered, clearing your throat even as your hands trembled, “Every day, I fall more and more in love with you… and I want to spend every second of every minute of every day with you for the rest of our lives.”

You dropped to one knee, fumbling the box out of your pocket.

“Tasha, will you mar—”

“Wait.” Tony’s chair scraped across the floor as he rose, swaying slightly, face flush with indignation and too much whiskey. “You shouldn’t do this until you know what she’s been doing.”

Pepper hissed his name and reached for his arm but he waved her off.

“Wanda started the whole thing,” he slurred, gesturing vaguely towards the brunette. “Bragging about how she has Victor trained like some goddamn lab rat. Sex as a reward when he does something good.” He laughed, though it was strained. “Taught Pepper and Natasha the trick too. But I caught on when she tried those mind games with me. They’ve been manipulating you two idiots for months.”

Natasha’s face paled, fingers slipping from yours where she’d been reaching for the ring box and falling dully in her lap. Her eyes flickered to you, wide and mortified as she waited for the anger, the hurt… for you to take away the box.

The silence in the room was so awkward but even Yelena couldn’t bring herself to break it.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Victor leveled an unimpressed look at Tony. “Tony, I have known for months.” He shrugged. “It’s a good system. I pretend I don’t notice, Wanda is happy, our home is clean and the sex is… exceptional. Why would I blow up a good thing?”

You glanced up from where you were kneeling, smirking at Tony. “You… are a fucking idiot, Stark. Your wife was offering you sex for chores and instead you decided to try and ruin it for us?”

Tony’s glass froze halfway to his mouth as he gaped at you. “You… knew?”

“I’ve known for about a month,” you admitted, shrugging. “I vaguely mentioned it to Victor last month during game night, he explained the whole of it to me, and honestly, it’s a great way to get my dopamine kick.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped to you, but the fear on her face cracked away, replaced with stunned disbelief that hurriedly drifted into relief. You weren’t mad. You’d known for a while, but you were still doing the things that helped make her life easier…

Whatever guilt she’d felt about “tricking” you slowly bled out.

Tony sputtered. “You—you knew? Both of you? And you were just… fine with it?”

“Look, Tony, I like you… but your pride sometimes blinds you from the big picture. Nat’s happy and has a clean apartment, I get the dopamine and praise I crave, and we both get to come—uh, sorry.” You shot Natasha’s parents an apologetic smile before your attention returned to Tony. “Why would I willingly screw that up for myself? And instead of enjoying the benefits yourself, you’re sitting here calling us idiots for enjoying… some damn good rewards. Seems like we might be the geniuses here, Stark.”

Shrugging, your gaze shifted back to Natasha as you smiled softly.

“Now, before I was interrupted… Natasha, baby… will you marry me?”

Pepper gripped Tony’s arm and yanked him back into his chair, hissing something under her breath at him that made his ears go red with embarrassment, but no one was really paying him any mind, too busy watching you.

Natasha was nodding before the question even fully left your mouth, her hand reaching for the box. “Yes,” she whispered, voice shaky but so drenched in love it could’ve drowned you. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

She tugged you forward, one hand landing on the box while the other cradled your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss. Holding you close even as the table exploded into whistles and cheers.

“Give me that damn ring,” she mumbled against your lips, a stray tear or two streaking down her cheek.

“With pleasure.”

You pulled back just enough to flip the box open, hands shaking so hard you nearly dropped the damn thing in your haste, before carefully sliding the ring onto her finger.

“Your dad helped me pick it out,” you murmured, staring at the jewelry like it was the best thing you’d ever bought as you both stood up, admiring it in the light.

“…wait, you asked my dad to help you pick it out?” Her eyes filled with tears.

“She did!” Alexei practically shouted, throwing his arms around you both, “Asked your papa if she could have my blessing too! And I said of course! I tell her, “You make my Natalia happy? You take care of her?” and she says yes. I cry a little bit. Then we took celebration shots!”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head.

“…I might’ve thrown up in your mom’s roses. That shit tasted like rubbing alcohol,” you whispered, kissing Natasha’s temple while Alexei dropped back into an unoccupied chair.

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter as she leaned into your side, pressing her face against your neck. She thought she’d known what perfect was before she met you, but this?

The tension between you and Dean is thick enough to cut through with a knife.

"Maybe if you weren't such a self-centered asshole," You grit, letting the motel door slam back in his face. "This wouldn't have happened."

Of course, you're referring to the ache settling in your muscles. There wasn't any pain anymore. Just that weird throb found in the absence of pain. It was from a ghost tossing you down the stairs— like some doggy chew toy. Not your favorite moment on a hunt.

Dean's ring clad hand catches the door before it can whack him, his teeth bearing. A snarl pulls at his lower lip. Anger boils beneath his skin, itching under his knuckles. He's stepping over the threshold of the door and tossing his keys onto the table with straight shoulders.

"Listen, sweetheart." Condescension wraps around his words, dripping from his lips like venom. "I ain't the one who got themselves thrown down the friggin' stairs."

The sound of your feet against the carpeted floor covers your frustration. They were muffled. Despite the pure rage stirring in your gut. Hell, you probably had a big bruise because of this idiot.

"Yeah, and I'm not the one who left even though they were supposed to be back up." The words are grumbled out under your breath.

Dean has no response to that. Just a sharp intake of breath, lodging halfway down his throat. His jaw clenches hard enough to crack bone. Bleached knuckles make fists at his sides. A twitch of his head allows him to hold his tongue.

"Whatever."

Your hands go to your jacket, pulling it off your arms. The action is slow. Your shoulder blades are screaming at you, begging you to stop the agonizing motion. Your eyes pinch in pain. A groan bubbles up in your throat that you will away. It was soreness that would hopefully ebb away after a shower.

The ache lessens when you stop bending the way you had been. Miraculous.

When you pad across the room, Dean glances over to track where you were going. Annoyance flares in his chest when he realizes you're headed to the bathroom.

"Not gonna ask if I have to piss?"

You don't miss a beat. "Nope."

Dean curses you under his breath.

The door shuts, clicking softly. There's an obvious atmosphere change. The bathroom didn't hold the charged energy the rest of the motel room held. Now, it was just you and peace.

Normally, you'd be privy to a bath that's been installed into the floor. This hunt you don't have that luxury. It's an old white basin above ground, rusting at the bottom and creeping up the sides like vines. A maroon curtain hangs over the edge, pushed to the left side of the tub.

It wasn't the worst conditions you've had to shower in.

At least it wasn't a hose.

You inwardly cringe remembering that terrible hunt. The motel's water had been cut off—and a hose turned into a shower. It was cold and.. just terrible. Shaking the memory off, you try and focus on the task at hand.

Showering. Replaying the argument and thinking up things you should have said. Then bed.

Easy.

Well, it should be easy. But your aching body had some better ideas.

Turning the shower on was a breeze. It was just a gentle flick of your wrist, fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the faucet. Adjusting the temperture was just as easy.

The challenge came as a shock.

It burned to raise your arms above your naval. Whenever you raised them any higher, it felt like fire was licking up your extremities. A dagger to the thigh hurt less than this.

Your breath catches in your lungs, a low groan escaping your throat. A curse falls from your lips.

There weren't any scissors in the bathroom. So, cutting your clothes off wasn't an option. Not that you had enough outfits to be ruining clothes. The other option was to just not shower. But you were pretty sure there were monster guts congeiling in your hair. Only one option remained.

You needed help.

The next problem reared its head: Dean was the only one out the door.

You didn't even have the option to (sweetly) force Sam to do it for you. For a second, you turn into a toddler having a tantrum, stomping your foot with a huff. This was the worst day of your life!

Would Dean even help? Did you want Dean taking off your clothes?

Heat rises in your chest. Embarrassment. Yeah, that's what that heat was from. You're stuck in a compromising position. No wonder you feel a little shy. It had absolutely nothing to do with the concept of Dean peeling off your clothes for you.

This sucked.

Like.. a lot.

Your fingers tap at your denim-clad thighs. The idea mulls around in your mind for another few moments. A bruised dignity for thirty minutes of warm happiness… or be deprived from the warmth. The decision was already made.

Turning on your heel, you reach out for the doorknob. There's a moment where you pause. The reason for it was lost on you—but your pulse sped up. You could feel the way it jumped in your throat. The door opened smoothly after that.

When your head pokes out from the door, you see Dean laying outstretched on his bed. One arm behind his head while the other was clutching a beer in hand. He was looking up at the ceiling like something interesting was on it.

"Hey." Your voice wavers at the start, quickly schooling itself.

He glances over at you. Dean's brows furrow, confusion blanketing his expression.

"I need help." Your throat works around a swallow.

"With what? Figuring out the water controls?" He snorts, rolling his eyes.

"No." The word comes out sharp, edged by the concoction of annoyance and fluster in your chest. "I can't… I can't get my clothes off. It hurts."

Dean looks at you like you have six heads.

His head even tilts a little like a dog would when they get confused. Viridian eyes survey your face. He's trying to analyze your micro expressions to see if you were screwing with him. But he doesn't find any artifice. Just a girl grimicing. Truth.

A stuttering noise leaves his mouth, it's throaty and baffled. Dean's mouth opens and closes. His throat works around a swallow.

"Then don't shower."

"Dean."

"Can't you wait for Sam?"

"Dean."

There's something in your voice that makes him soften slightly. Because this is a woman who would first die before asking him for anything. You'd never just ask him for something. Especially when it involved such an intimate setting.

The way your brows furrowed made him crumble. You were desperate.

He couldn't even refute the feeling. Showers were his holy grail after a hunt.

Fuck.

"Alright." He grunts, forcing himself to sit up. "Fine. FIne. Lets go."

His legs swing over the bed, feet falling to the carpeted floor. He walks over avoiding your eyeline the entire time.

Stepping from the threshold of the door, you give him room to come in. Steam is slowly filling the room. It was getting humid. The atmosphere was tight, and the impending actions about to be taken somehow made it worse.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Dean notices that your shoes and socks had already been kicked off. Good. Al least he didn't need to be anywhere near your feet.

"Turn around." He says gruffly, stepping behind you.

The scent of pine infiltrates your lungs. He smelled like the woods, earthy and entirely too strong for your liking. Dean's a damn heater too. His body head radiates from him and bleeds through your clothing.

You almost jump when his skin makes contact with yours.

His fingertips slide beneath the band of your shirt, fingers cool against your hip. Dean pauses for just a second. Just enough time for a breath to release from his lungs. His fingers curl around the fabric before slowly tugging it upwards.

It feels like the air had been punched out of your chest.

This was somewhere you'd never imagine you'd ever be.

Dean, the man who you thought would leave you for dead given the chance, undressing you because of an injury. This was no man's land.

He helps work the fabric over your head. Gently, he shushes you when it's time for your arms to come out from the confines. The fabric snaggs as it gets bunched up and pulled over your head.

It gets over your head and he tosses it to the floor. The shirt ends up in a ball on the floor.

Standing in front of him with just your bra on, it's easy to feel exposed.

His gaze is on you. Despite himself, he can't help but trace the way your shoulders slope. How your hair falls over your neck, soft strands grazing your skin. It hyptnotizes him. You just look so soft—despite his knowledge of how rough you can fight.

"The water's only getting colder." Your voice comes out tighter than you wish it had, frayed at the edges.

But you can feel his gaze on you.

He clears his throat, nodding to himself. "I know." He grumbles. "Makin' sure I don't hurt you, sweetheart."

The nickname surprises the both of you.

There's a moment where you both freeze.

Just listening to the whizzing of the running water.

Your fingertips tap against the tops of your thighs. "Uh… thanks."

Dean shakes it off. "Yeah."

His fingers go to your bra strap, gaze following. You'd be fully exposed once the article drops. Dean blinks, trying to avoid the weird feeling itching beneath his skin.

There's a softness in his movements. He unclips the bra with ease, letting the backs of it unfurl like a flower. His fingers slip the straps down next. You can feel his breath against your shoulder as he focuses on one strap at a time. There's a split second where you swear you can feel hesitancy.

Your back teeth grind. The tendon in your jaw works, being an easy physical tick to keep your anxiety at bay. Your gaze is trained on the curtain in front of you. Maybe if you stare at it hard enough, you can forget the fact that Dean freaking Winchester is taking off your bra. Leaving you bare boobs to the world.

Once it falls to the floor, your arms come up and cross over your chest. Having Dean in here was already overwhelming. Then adding on the fact he was the one who had to take off your clothes, you felt like a bug beneath a microscope.

"You got your jeans?" He asks after a minute, voice low.

His voice is next to your ear. If you focused hard enough, you'd probably be able to feel the vibrations of his chest.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

He nods at your words. Then after realizing you can't see him, he clears his throat. "Alright. Uh.. have a nice shower, then."

"Yep."

He stays rooted to the spot.

But then the motel door opens.

Dean gets brought back to the present, shaking his head and all but running to the door. It clicks softly as it closes.

Leaving just you inside.

join the taglist here! request something here or in my inbox!

Stamina? Insane When it comes to sex, Jinwoo is a FORCE to be reckoned with. His stamina in the sack is simply legendary. While most men might flag after a single, intense round, Jinwoo can keep going and going, driven by an insatiable hunger for pleasure- and pleasuring YOU. His cock is a pistoning machine, he fucks you with a raw, animalistic power, each thrust a declaration of ownership. His cock spears deep, hitting spots inside you that make stars burst behind your eyelids. And still, he shows no signs of slowing down, his balls churning out endless loads of hot, sticky cum. The man is built for fucking, plain and simple.

"Mmm, you feel so good... I could fuck you forever," he growls, his voice husky with desire as he pounds into you from behind. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust sending shockwaves of bliss through your trembling body.

Favorite position? Given Jinwoo's dominant nature and powerful build, it's no surprise that his favorite position would be one that allows him to take control and assert his strength. The missionary position, with him on top, seems tailor-made for the man. He loves the feeling of being face-to-face with his you, and to spice it up? He tilts your hips up and presses his palms to splay your thighs wide open. SHEEESH. From this vantage point, Jinwoo can watch the pleasure play across his your features, savoring every gasp and moan. His hands can roam freely, gripping ass cheeks, tracing the lines of your torso, and tangling in your hair as he sets a punishing rhythm. It also puts Jinwoo's impressive endowment on full display, his thick cock plunging in and out of you with ease, his v line and oh lawd the biceps! and pecs

"Look at me, baby," Jinwoo growls, his voice low and commanding as he hammers into you from above. "I want you to see every inch of my cock stretching you open, filling you up until you can't take anymore." His hips snap forward with brutal force, driving his length deeper into your quivering cunt. "This is mine, all mine. Every scream, every tremble, every drop of cum I pump into you belongs to me."

He's OBSESSED with your reactions. For Jinwoo, sex isn't just about satisfying his own desires; it's a game of intense focus, where he zeroes in on every subtle reaction from you. He's acutely attuned to the way your body responds to his touch, the sounds that escape your lips, the flush that spreads across your skin. As he drives into you, Jinwoo watches your face intently, drinking in the sight of pleasure etched into your features. Each gasp, each whimper, each shudder sends a thrill through him, spurring him on to greater heights of passion. He's obsessed with the way your eyes glaze over, the way your back arches off the bed, the way your nails dig into his shoulders.

You're lying beneath Jinwoo, legs splayed wide apart as he pounds into you with unrelenting fervor. Sweat glistens on your skin, and your breasts heave with each ragged breath. Jinwoo's gaze is riveted to your face, drinking in every delicious detail of your expression. "You're so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, his voice rough with lust. "Spread out for me, taking my cock like it was made for you. I could stare at you all day, watching you fall apart on my dick."

Literally a huge tease. In public, This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s gonna whisper the filthiest shit in your ear right when you least expect it. In public? At dinner? While you’re on the phone? Yeah, he gets off on seeing you flustered. And when you're actually in the bedroom, Jinwoo is a master of torture, using his teasing touches to drive his you to the brink of madness before finally granting you release. He delights in building anticipation, his fingers dancing along your skin with maddening slowness, barely grazing your most sensitive areas before pulling away. You find yourself writhing beneath him, desperate for more contact, as Jinwoo toys with you like a cat with a mouse. He teases your nipples with gentle bites and licks, coaxing them into stiff peaks before abandoning them to leave you aching for his return. His mouth trails down your stomach, pausing to swirl his tongue around your belly button in a circular pattern that makes your toes curl.

 Jinwoo kneels between your parted thighs, his hot breath wafting over your slick folds as he leans in to taste you. His tongue darts out, flicking lightly against your clit in a feather-soft caress that leaves you panting for more. But instead of delving deeper, he pulls back, his eyes locked on yours with a wicked gleam.Not yet, baby, he murmurs, his voice husky with promise. I want to hear you beg for it first. With that, Jinwoo resumes his teasing assault, his tongue tracing the outline of your pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat his mouth with your juices. He sucks gently on your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Aftercare KING Following sex with Jinwoo, aftercare becomes an intimate ritual, a chance for him to show tender affection to the person he's just dominated in bed. Despite his rugged exterior, Jinwoo has a soft spot for cuddles and soothing your post-coital tremors. He cradles you close, his strong arms wrapping protectively around your spent form as he presses warm kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and the sensitive skin of your neck. His touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the aggressive passion of earlier. Jinwoo's voice rumbles softly as he whispers reassurances, praising your responsiveness and the pleasure you brought him. He strokes your hair, tracing patterns on your back, and lavishes attention on your sensitive nipples, easing them with his thumbs.

Your eyes widened pushing him back, and looked to the camera like it was your own show rather than an interview, “he called me a slut! Did you get that! That was slut in French, right?” You looked around for confirmation.

The interview looked done by this point, scoffing and rolling his eyes, when Kimi waved his hands as if to clear the air, “he has-eh- what do you call in English? Wisdom removal?” More laughter, “Yea! Wisdom teeth removal!” He answered looking proud of himself.

The group had moved on and the interviewer asked to cut the camera.

The next day the clip had gone viral, and Y/n only added to the fire.

ynlnunofficial

ynlnunofficial THEY TOOK MY FUCKIN TEETH- also thanks @/olliebearmen for driving me and giving me a beautiful daughter 🥹😂

userone omg whose child is that 😭

usertwo these rookies don’t play man tfym they actually got a child for the bit-

userthree HELLO? are we sure they aren’t actually dating? Cause wdym he drove him after his wisdom tooth removal

jackdohaan DID YOU STEAL A CHILD

olliebearman NO-

ynlnunofficial YES (it’s his niece) unfortunately I can’t get him pregnant

userfour BRO WHAT 💀

charlesleclerc I am too young to be a grandfather- Oliver explain yourself!

olliebearman uh- I- @/ynlnunofficial!

ynlnunofficial I was joking I swear! Pls don’t tell my pr manager😭🙏

The next time was after the race, Kimi had a spectacular race and the rest of you? Well most had shunted into the wall and you? You had to be sent to the medics, the crash opening the stitches from your surgery, making you bleed from your mouth.

As usual, podcasters and pandits had a lot to say about that. Calling you and the rest of the rookies failed investments, unfit and even some going as far as useless. For you, one woman had even gone as far as calling you dangerous.

“Well, if he focuses more on driving rather than opening his mouth, there wouldn’t be blood or his foot in it right now, ” she’d said, “he’s dangerous! Today it’s him bleeding, tomorrow it’s someone else!” She continued. Y/n tried not to take it to heart, after all, the best drivers were called dangerous, and he had a long career ahead of him, right? Well, no time to ponder life when you had to go to Kimi’s party, well technically it was Lando’s party but rookies gonna support rookies.

kimiantonelli has posted a story

(a thirty-second clip of Y/n and Lando dancing closely and taking shots, pulling each other close and jumping to the music and Y/n turning towards Kimi and flashing a card to the screen pointing to it and screaming, making Kimi and others scream behind the camera as well)

kimiantonelli drinks on Lando for rest of the night!!

ynlnunoffcial

ynlnunoffcial Lando appreciation post + rookie after party!!

landonorris WHY IS THERE A 5000 CHARGE ON MY CARD??

ynlnunofficial ASK LIAM! HE WANTED CHAMPANGE

liamlawson Y/N TOLD ME HE WAS PAYING

ynlnunoffcial KIMI TOLD ME TO TAKE LANDOS CARD

kimiantonelli YOU HAD TO JOIN CREDIT FRAUD CLUB!

landonorris YOU DIDNT HAVE TO DO SHIT!?

userfive mind you, this post is after he stole his card.

usersix this is why he's dangerous!! This is a crime! He shouldn't even be a driver

userfive stfu obviously its a joke, do you think lando would be talking to him if he was actually pissed?

maxverstappen thank you for the g&t's y/n- i mean Lando 😂

ynlnunofficial OMG MAX- i mean you're welcome

landonorris woooowww im telling zak

You had gotten some backlash over the card 'theft', but hey, it was Kimi's idea, so you weren't the only one on the chopping block. Unfortunately, EVERYONE loved Kimi, and while you had a cult following, people definitely didn't like you like they loved the Italian.

After that night, Max had invited you on his jet, an invitation that had got you jumping in your room with joy till you realised you were still violently hungover and had to run to the washroom.

Max was your hero, and everyone had noticed, while most rookies said their idols were Micheal Schumacher or Lewis, you were the opposite; it was always Sebastian, Mark or Max. Your love for Red Bull ran deep, noticable by anyone, and the minute you could get that seat, you were going to jump. Fortunately, it didn't cause much tension between you, Liam and Isack, though.

On the flight, it was you, Max, Liam, and Lando. Yuki and Isack choosing to take their own travel.

You were practically vibrating with excitement. This was Max! Max Verstappen, 4 time world champion and an absolute legend and your idol, and he invited you to travel with him! How could you not be excited?

Liam knew about your slight obsession with Max, choosing to tease you about it on the way over.

“You’re just jealous that after today he’ll be my grid dad,” you puffed your chest with pride making Liam stutter.

“Wh-what? Absolutely not! He’s no one’s grid dad! He’s 26 and why would I be jealous?” He looked like an angry penguin, if penguins could even look angry.

You bounded up the private jets stairs, “See! You’re already jelly- he’s my grid father now, blondie, SUCK IT-” you yelled as you walked, Liam following you shaking his head, looking up to god as if asking ‘why me, man? Why me?’

“You are insane-” he’d begun when he saw you sitting right next to Max, where he’d usually sit, but was interrupted by Lando.

“I agree, Max why is this absolute menace on our plane?” He asked out loud with a grin, showing there was no real heat behind his words.

Max looked at the man across him, amused, “Our plane? I think you mean my plane, that I so graciously allow you on? For free?” He deadpanned, making Lando wave his hands.

“Tomato, potato-” he stopped himself to shake Liam’s hand, where Y/n had forced Max to move so he could sit in the window seat, Liam, even though younger had accepted his aisle seat.

“So, menace, what brings you to Air Max, today?” He smiled at the rookie, who looked like a puppy on caffeine- an unhealthy amount of redbull if Liam had to guess.

The younger blonde had begun to answer when he was promptly kicked, “Free travel and I’ve never been in a private jet before,” he answered animatedly.

He looked around nervously as the plane took off, clutching the arm rests making the rest of the men laugh.

“Aww are you scared!?” Liam cooed, making the rest laugh and Y/n scowl.

“Man, shut up-” he grabbed on harder when some turbulence hit, “it my first time flying without my dad, okay?” You felt like a 10 year old again, not missing the soft looks of pity the older men cast at you.

Thankfully, a stewardess came by with a cart full of drinks, the majority of them being different flavours of Red Bull. You jumped with excitement, both Liam and Max pushing you back in your seat. Lando and you looking at them in surprise.

“Wha-“ you’d begun but Liam interrupted you this time.

“No you gremlin, you’ve already have five!” He yelled, making Lando gasp.

“Five?” He asked,

“Five!” Liam replied like it was a musical.

Y/n looked to Max with pleading eyes, hoping the other redbull addict would understand, but nope.

“Sorry, kid, your Pr manager already told me not not to let you have any, apparently you become a ‘safety risk’ and she doesn’t have time for another ‘international incident’ whatever that means.” He shrugged.

But Y/n was relentless, he pulled his best Leo Leclerc impression, “but you have the new summer edition, the people need to know my thoughts! Think of the people, Maxie!” You yelled.

Lando had a matching glint in his eyes, happy that the target would now be someone else, “Yea, Max, think of the people.”

Max was about to give in, but looking at the panicked look in Liam’s eyes and the strong shaking of his head told him he’d have to listen to authority on this one. He told to stewardess to get them all some water much to Lando’s and y/n’s chagrin.

It turned out to be a blessing in disguise (for y/n atleast,) because when he fell asleep half way through the flight, knees to his chest, head in between his knees, Max couldn’t help his paternal instincts.

“Oh my god, he looks like donut,” he whispered, making the others look at him weirdly, “like Donatello, my cat,” Lando gasped.

“HE DOES-” he yelled, Max immediately shushing him.

“You are going to wake the kid!” He hissed quietly, placing his much larger jacket around the boy. Y/n, who seemed to notice the disturbance, moved but didn’t wake up, instead resting his head on Max’s shoulder. The older man stayed still instead of waking him up.

Liam’s eyes widened, “No fucking way- that Bastard- he actually did it-” he said to himself.

Lando, on the other hand, was taking pics, much to Max’s annoyance.

landonorris

landonorris @/maxverstappen has a new cat @/ynlnunoffical

landonorris just want everyone to know their favouraite war criminal is actually a softie

userseven lol which criminal Max or y/n?

landonorris Max mans didn't move an inch for five hours cause 'the kid's asleep'

userseven omg lando replied to me!! also omg Max and y/n 🥹

liamlawson I was also on the flight???

ynlnunofficial HAH get replaced bitch Max is MY GRID DAD NOW

liamlawson YOURE AN ADULT!!

ynlnunofficial told you you'd be jelly

liamlawson can you just be normal pls

ynlnunofficial @/maxverstappen @/charlesleclerc dad, mom- liam's bullying me!!

charlesleclerc why am i here? and why am i the mother?

usereight omg i love this kid so much

usernine pls their comments are killing me 😭 Liam's getting the full younger sibling experience.

userten not lando calling Y/n a cat 😂

Races weren’t going good. Australia was ofcourse the rookie killer, in the next your tires decided they didn’t want be tires anymore, the third was going well till Nico wanted to feel gravel… and take you with him and Bahrain? Well atleast nothing happened there but you didn’t get points. No where near actually. Hate was at an all time high, one mistake and you were dangerous again. Jay walking? Put him jail, messing around with your friends? You’re a distraction trying to sabotage their races. Post? You’re more focused on being an influencer than a driver.

Everything was getting too much, so of course, you could only think of one thing.

You ran to gather the rookies, Ollie and Kimi were ready, Isack, Jack and Gabi even more so, but Liam looked like you'd dragged him out of bed (you had).

“Men, today were gathered here for a holy purpose-” you began, trying to look as priestly as you could.

“I’d like to go back to bed!” Liam yelled, making Isack shush him, which caused them to start fighting between eachother.

“SILENCE!” You whisper-shrieked, “as I was saying, we’re here on a mission- a mission to steal Leo Leclerc-” another interruption.

“WHAT?” Barked(ironic huh?) Liam, trying to get others to see the stupidity in your actions.

Fortunately, everyone else was just as insane, “no no, let him speak,” said Jack,

“He’s got a point,” shrugged Gabi.

And that’s how there were seven of you outside Charles Leclerc’s room (curtesy of Ollie, of course.)

You heard the water running inside and knew this was the moment.

“fuuuuuckkkk-” you let you, dragging your hands down your face to everyone’s surprise, “the door?” You pointed out to everyone, their faces immediately accepting the information and falling with defeat.

“Well I guess we can go back to bed now,” Liam smirked, happy you looked pissed off.

Gabriel stepped ahead, shoving Liam making him falter, “not so fast,” he cracked his knuckles and pulled a card out his pocket. Everyone’s eyes widened as it actually opened the door.

You were astonished, “wha- how?” Everyone around was in the same shock. You looked into Gabi’s eyes and saw a whole new man looking back… a whole new bunch of opportunities too.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not telling you shit!” He whispered into a cackle as the pushed the handle down.

“If I didn’t want to kiss you right now,” you muttered, pushing him.

The scene was almost comical, seven rookies with their heads peaking through the door, stacked with a Scooby doo scene, and one Leo Leclerc gnawing on what looked like… a sock?

“Psst, pssst, here doggy-” Isack called making the dog look up and honest to God roll his eyes.

Jack smacked him from above,“ he’s a dog, idiot,”

You shushed them both, “none of you are doing this right,” you said pulling out a strip of bacon from breakfast, making Kimi bellow you squirm.

“How long that has been in your pockets?” He asked revolted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You winked before turning to Leo, still chewing on the sock, “Leo, look what I have! It’s bacon! Doggies love bacon!” You waved it in the air to nothing but a huff and judgmental look… from more than just the dog. “Bougie ahh dog what does Charles feed you-” you began to complain when the shower stopped.

Suddenly everything was completely still- you could see the dust particles fall, and the shallow breathing of the boys above you. You were all currently peeping into Charles Leclercs room-without invitation- right as he was coming out the shower!

Then everything moved, you fell to the ground, trying to shield Kimi from the weight of six others, when you saw a blond run out in front of you and run out a second later. The door closed as fast and quiet as possible and then you all were running back to your room. Panting and staring in surprise.

“What. Happened!?” Ollie screeched, looking at you, and for the first time, you didn’t have an answer.

Then there was a yip, then silence… then jumping on Liam- half to scream about him finally getting involved and the other to get Leo.

ynlnunoffcial

ynlnunoffcial BOYS SLEEPOVERRR + Leo for emotional support @/charlesleclerc you should get him therapy certified atp

charlesleclerc THATS WHERE LEO IS??? I THOUGH I LOST HIM I CRIED

maxverstappen its true he called me

ynlnunoffcial in our defence were about to kill ourselves 😫

liamlawson don't let that picture fool you, kimi and y/n slept for exactly five (5) mins

olliebearman mate i usually love pillow fightsThe- THESE IDIOTS WERE FIGHTING A PILLOW WAR

isackhadjar just to let everyone know my football team won

ynlnunoffcial just to let everyone know Leo chose me (1st pic is proof)

usertwelve THEY STOLE LEO??

Usertwo man why are yall shirtless (my girls on here man chill)

userone bro forget your girl im ovulating

userthree youre literally a man 💀

userfour talking about teenagers btw-

The sleepover had gone wonderfully, and everyone was a bit more relaxed. Leo had chosen to sleep in Ollie's lap after being cuddled by you all night (between the pillow fights).

There was only the quiet hum of the TV, with the occasional TikTok, when there was a loud banging on your door.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" A monacan voice yelled.

"OH SHIT" yelled seven others.

Prior to entering a relationship, you and Jin-woo were fellow hunters who embarked on many of the same raids together. Despite being an A-rank healer, you chose to frequent E- and D-rank gates to render aid to those in need. Many of your peers sneered at your actions deeming them to be beneath a hunter of your caliber. But you paid them no heed. You enjoyed being able to use your mage craft to help others.

You're constantly crossing paths with Jin-woo because of how often he’s injured. He's never left a raid without at least one broken bone, a nasty gash, or some other form of bodily harm. Yet no matter how grievous his wounds are, he’s always coming back to participate in more raids. You can’t help but feel for the young man especially after witnessing his sheer grit and determination. You find Jin-woo's strength of will to be admirable and in your opinion he's far more courageous than most of the A- and S-ranks you’re acquainted with.

You tend to be very hands-on when it comes to healing Jin-woo: cradling his head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair, and speaking in soothing voice to distract him from the pain. He was just so vulnerable like this; you couldn’t help but coddle him. Within the span of a few weeks, you became comfortable enough around Jin-woo to share the intimacies of your life with him. And he did as well. Ironically it’s in a dungeon of all places that a deep emotional connection develops. It isn't long before your mutual friendship progresses into something more.

Unfortunately, the former E-rank was too insecure at the time to act on his feelings. It’s not until he acquires the system and starts leveling up that he becomes confident enough to confess to you. The radiant smile that blossoms across your face and the sensation of your soft lips molding against his has Jin-woo mentally kicking himself for not doing this sooner. He’d only had a small taste but he was already addicted to you.

It's only after he falls in love that Jin-woo discovers his appreciation of lingerie.

He's never given much thought to women’s undergarments before. Sure, the intricate patterns of tulle, silk, and lace appealed to the eye, but Jin-woo much prefers you bared in all your naked glory. To the reawakened hunter there was nothing more gorgeous than the sight of your lush body writhing in ecstasy as he fucks you into oblivion.

Jin-woo absolutely adores fucking you. He just can't get enough of his pretty girl. He'll make you cum repeatedly until your mind melts and you're completely consumed by pleasure. The man revels in your softness, delights in your cute moans and sighs. Hell, he’d spend all of eternity with his head buried between your thighs if you'd let him. Jin-woo wants to drown in you and your perfect little cunt.

Making love to Jin-woo is an otherworldly experience. He's the most selfless and giving partner you've ever had, bar none. Part of this can be attributed to his high perception stat. It enables him to be fully attuned to all your sexual needs and desires. He can even sense when you're ovulating, and it’s at the peak of your fertility when your normally gentle and considerate lover becomes downright insatiable.

Running his calloused hands all over your smooth thighs while he spreads them apart. Grunting rough and low into your ear when he sees just how much of "wet and needy little slut" you are for him. Sinking his deft fingers into the fat of your hips as he bounces you up and down on his cock at a frantic pace. Every delicious drag of his thick cockhead has your eyes rolling back into your skull and pressure continuously mounts in the pit of your stomach. He's hitting all your best spots just right causing you to keen and arch against him. And just as your climax washes over you he silences your cries with his lips, kissing you to completion.

Although he can be incredibly rough with you at times, Jin-woo always ensures you receive an ample amount of body worship and after care. You’re the most cherished person in his life after all. You were there for him when he was at his lowest point. A source of solace in a world filled with violence, deception, and betrayal. How could he not treat you with the utmost reverence?

As you come down from your high, Jin-woo gently caresses your inner thighs with his hands, trailing a path of feather-light kisses from your ankles to your calves and all the way up to your hips. He then brings his face towards your soaked pussy, still puffy and swollen from being ravished earlier. Jin-woo smirks and shoots a smoldering gaze at you.

“Want me to kiss it better, pretty girl?”

Your only response is to stroke his mussed-up hair and push him directly into your cunt. Liquid heat courses through your veins as Jin-woo lavishes attention on your core. You almost tumble off the bed when he abruptly takes your aching clit into his mouth and sucks hard on it. At this rate he’d be making you cum for the sixth time that evening.

Throughout his ministrations a ceaseless stream of praise falls from his lips in between wet smacks and groans.

“You’re doing so good, so fucking good for me sweetheart.”

“You needed this, didn’t you pretty girl? Big strong hands all over your body and that perfect little pussy.”

“You’re gonna cum? Go ahead and cum then, sweetheart. Take what you need, yeah. Take what you fucking need.”

“Mhm –  yeah, that’s it! Cum all over my tongue! Good girl, perfect fucking girl!”

Suffice to say the man is enamored with every last inch of you. The very idea of impeding your mouthwatering curves with flimsy pieces of fabric seems like a crime against nature to Jin-woo.

After a series of particularly grueling raids, Jin-woo wants nothing more than to return home, wash away the day’s frustrations in a hot shower, and fall asleep with you in his arms. You had other ideas, however.

A sudden vibration from his phone catches his attention. When he retrieves the device from his pocket, he's greeted by a text from you with an image attached to it. Shit, he forgot to call or text you as soon as he closed the gate! Jin-woo hadn't been able to stay in contact while traversing through dungeons due to the interference from their magical energy, so he always made sure to reach out to you as soon as he was back. He must've been so tired that it slipped his mind. He'd also been gone longer than he intended to. Dammit, you were probably worried about him...

When he opens your text, he expects you to have sent a short message to check in on him like you usually do in these situations. However, there's only the attached image. The moment Jin-woo takes in what's seeing, he nearly ends up crushing his phone from how hard he was gripping it. The text contained a picture of you, dressed to kill in a royal blue lingerie set. Your body was splayed out provocatively over the king-sized bed you both shared. Jin-woo finds himself at an utter loss for words. You were just stunning, like sex incarnate.

An embroidered bra comprised of tulle and silk cups your supple breasts, accentuating their beauty. The matching garter belt and thong are equally flattering, trailing across the dips and curves of your figure like running water. Kohl rimmed eyes and rouge lips round out your sumptuous appearance, making you even more beguiling. Jin-woo feels as if he's been enraptured by an enchantress; he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Unable to bear being apart from you for another second, he performs a hasty Shadow Exchange with the high orc appointed as your bodyguard.

A coy smile tugs at your lips as you see Jin-woo manifest behind you from the top of your vanity mirror. His timing was impeccable, you had just finished touching up your make up. He all but pounces on you before you even have the chance to turn around. Jin-woo captures your lips in a flurry of hot, open mouthed kisses. His hands grope and wander all over your form, pinching and teasing your nipples through the sheer material of your bra. You moan and tilt your head back, granting him access to the column of your neck. You chuckle breathlessly as he mouths against the tender flesh.

"I take it you liked my surprise for you, huh Jin-woo?"

"Mhm," Jin-woo hums as he leaves a small love bite under your ear, "I loved it. You're the hottest thing I've ever seen, sweetheart. I couldn't last another moment without having my lips on your skin. Fuck, how did I get to be so lucky?"

You wrap your arms around the back of his broad shoulders and lean forward to whisper seductively in his ear.

"It's been so long since I've had you, Jin-woo. Please, don't stop. I need you inside of me."

He pulls his head back, and the look he sends you almost causes your knees to buckle. His eyes have taken on a beautiful amethyst hue and there's a voracious hunger in them. You felt like a rabbit staring into the gaze of a wolf, and it thrilled you. You loved when Jin-woo got like this – completely unhinged and feral for you.

He effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder and tosses you onto the bed like a ragdoll. It knocks the wind out of you, and you can only stare up at him as he begins to remove his shirt, his eyes never once leaving yours. You drink in his appearance as more and more tantalizing skin is revealed. The muscles of his chest and abdomen are drawn taught, and his biceps flex and bulge when they come into view. Your legs spread automatically at the sight, and Jin-woo proceeds to pin you to the bed, unable to control his lust any longer. You feel yourself sinking into the abyss as he has his wicked way with you. Neither of you end up leaving the room for the next three days.

From that point on, Jin-woo made sure to fill your wardrobe with multiple sets of expensive lingerie. He was finally beginning to understand the appeal of an S-rank hunter's exorbitant salary. One would think Jin-woo would be drawn to darker, more mature pieces that matched his tenebrous aura. But his taste in lingerie was very much the polar opposite.

Teal, sky blue, navy blue, and neutral shades of green, beige and white are his favorite colors on you. He's also obsessed with garters, sheer material, and lace. Nothing gets Jin-woo more fired up than seeing his girl all dolled up. You're a goddess in his eyes and you only deserve the best.