Song recommendation: Feels So Good To Be You

Y/N rested one hand loosely on the steering wheel, the other near the radio, eyes scanning the dimly lit street. The glow of the dashboard lights reflected faintly off her jawline—calm, controlled, focused.

Dispatch crackled through the speaker. “Unit 24, we’ve received a disturbance call. Possible loud argument, 400 block of Sycamore. Any unit nearby?”

Y/N glanced at the street sign she had just passed and pressed the radio button. “This is unit 24. I’m two streets over. I’ll take it.”

“Copy that.”

She turned the cruiser smoothly, lights flashing briefly before she shut them off near the address—no need to escalate unless necessary. The house was quiet from the outside. Large windows, warm lighting inside. No shouting. No visible signs of damage. Still, protocol.

She stepped out of the cruiser, boots hitting the pavement with quiet authority. The cool air brushed against her uniform as she approached the front door and knocked firmly.

A pause. Then footsteps.

The door opened—and for half a second, Y/N forgot why she was there.

Elizabeth Olsen stood in the doorway, barefoot, wearing an oversized sweater that slipped slightly off one shoulder. Her hair was loose, slightly messy, like she’d run her fingers through it in frustration. Or distraction.

Her eyes flicked to the badge on Y/N’s chest, then up to her face. “Oh,” Lizzie said softly.

Professional. Stay professional.

“Good evening, ma’am,” Y/N said calmly. “I’m Officer Y/F/N. We received a call about a disturbance.”

Lizzie leaned lightly against the doorframe, looking slightly amused. “A disturbance?” she repeated. “That’s interesting.”

“Neighbors reported raised voices.”

A small smile tugged at Lizzie’s lips—not embarrassed, almost playful. “Well,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I do talk to myself when I’m reading scripts.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked past her shoulder, scanning the living room. No overturned furniture. No broken glass. No sign of anyone else. “Anyone else inside?” she asked.

“Just me.”

There was something about the way Lizzie held eye contact—confident, curious, studying her.

Y/N shifted her stance slightly. “Mind if I step in and take a quick look, just to confirm everything’s alright?”

Lizzie hesitated for a second, then stepped aside. “Of course, Officer Y/F/N.” The way she said it lingered a little longer than necessary.

Y/N stepped inside, senses alert despite the quiet house. The place smelled faintly like vanilla and something floral. Soft music hummed somewhere deeper in the house. Lizzie closed the door behind her.

“Like I said,” she continued casually, “no fight. Just me being dramatic.”

Y/N walked through the living room, eyes trained, taking in every detail out of habit. Everything looked normal.

When she turned back, Lizzie was watching her—not nervously, but openly.

“You always this serious?” Lizzie asked.

“Comes with the job.”

Lizzie took a small step closer—not enough to invade her space, but enough that Y/N noticed the warmth coming from her. “And what if I said I feel much safer now?” she murmured.

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. “Safety’s the goal,” she replied evenly.

Lizzie’s smile deepened. “Well then, Officer… I suppose I should thank you for responding so quickly.”

Y/N held her gaze for a second too long before stepping back toward the door. “This is just a warning check. If neighbors call again, we’ll have to escalate.”

Lizzie nodded slowly. “I’ll try to keep my dramatic monologues quieter.”

A beat of silence hung between them—charged.

Y/N reached the door. “If there’s nothing else—”

Lizzie moved to open it, but paused with her hand resting on the knob. “There is one thing,” she said.

Y/N raised a brow slightly.

Lizzie looked up at her, eyes bright with mischief. “Will I be seeing you around again, Officer Y/F/N?”

And there it was—not accidental, not innocent.

Y/N kept her voice steady. “That depends on whether you keep causing disturbances.”

Lizzie’s smile turned playful. “Maybe I will.”

Y/N stepped outside, composure intact—barely. She didn’t look back, but she could feel Lizzie watching her from the doorway. And as Y/N slid back into the cruiser, something told her this wouldn’t be the last time she was called to this address.

Not by accident.

---

The next time Y/N saw Elizabeth Olsen was in the last place Y/N expected herself to be.

Comic Con.

The convention center was louder than a stadium. Thousands of fans packed the halls, many dressed as superheroes, villains, or characters from every universe imaginable. Bright lights flashed from camera phones while excited voices echoed off the high ceilings.

Y/N stood near the barricade separating the main walkway from the celebrity panel stage, arms folded loosely behind her back. Her uniform was crisp, badge catching the overhead lights as she scanned the crowd with practiced focus. Security for large events wasn’t unusual for the department—extra presence kept things organized. Still, this wasn’t exactly her usual patrol.

A group of cosplayers rushed past dressed as Avengers, plastic shields and foam hammers bouncing as they laughed. Y/N barely reacted. Professional. Alert. Calm.

After nearly an hour on her feet, she finally stepped away for a moment, heading down the quieter hallway that led backstage. The noise of the convention faded behind the heavy doors, replaced with muffled chatter and the distant hum of equipment. She pushed open the restroom door, splashed some cold water on her face, and straightened her uniform before stepping back into the hallway.

That’s when someone tapped her shoulder—light, deliberate.

Y/N turned immediately, instincts sharp.

And froze.

Elizabeth Olsen stood there, smiling. Not the casual, teasing smile from the doorway of her house—this one was warmer, like she’d been hoping it would be Y/N.

“Well,” Lizzie said softly, tilting her head slightly, “if it isn’t Officer Y/F/N.”

For a moment, Y/N said nothing.

Lizzie was dressed for the event—fitted jeans, boots, and a simple black jacket. A convention badge hung around her neck, and a few strands of her hair had escaped the loose ponytail behind her head. But it was her eyes that caught Y/N again—bright, curious.

“You’re the disturbance from Sycamore Street,” Y/N finally said.

Lizzie laughed quietly. “That’s how you remember me?”

“It’s in the report.”

Lizzie stepped a little closer, clearly amused. “I didn’t realize you worked events like this.”

“Extra security detail,” Y/N replied. Her posture remained straight, hands resting casually near her belt, though she was suddenly very aware of how close Lizzie was standing.

Lizzie’s gaze flicked over the uniform—slowly. “You look good in it,” she said.

Y/N’s expression barely changed, but the corner of her jaw tightened. “It’s a uniform.”

“Still,” Lizzie shrugged lightly, “not everyone makes it look that intimidating.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I’m not trying to intimidate anyone.”

Lizzie smiled knowingly. “You intimidated me a little.”

“Did I?”

“A little,” Lizzie admitted, her voice softening slightly. “But I also kind of hoped I’d run into you again.”

That caught Y/N off guard more than she expected. “You intentionally came over here?”

Lizzie lifted one shoulder. “I saw you from the hallway. Hard to miss the tall officer standing by herself watching the crowd like she’s guarding the President.”

“That’s my job.”

Lizzie leaned lightly against the wall beside her. “Well, Officer Y/F/N… I’m glad your job brought you here today.”

A group of staff members walked past down the hallway, briefly interrupting the moment. Neither of them moved.

“You here for a panel?” Y/N asked.

Lizzie nodded. “Marvel panel in twenty minutes.”

Of course.

Y/N had suspected, but hearing it confirmed made the situation feel slightly surreal.

Lizzie studied her again for a moment. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I never properly thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For making sure I wasn’t getting into trouble that night.”

Y/N huffed faintly. “You weren’t in trouble.”

“Not yet.”

That teasing tone was back—and somehow even more distracting in person.

Lizzie pushed herself off the wall. “Well,” she said, glancing toward the direction of the stage entrance, “I should probably go before someone comes looking for me.”

She took a step away, then paused, turning back toward Y/N. “You still on patrol tonight, Officer Y/F/N?”

“Yes.”

Lizzie’s smile returned—slow, slightly mischievous. “Good.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why?”

Lizzie took another step backward down the hallway. “Just wondering,” she said lightly, then added, almost like an afterthought, “Maybe I’ll cause another disturbance.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared down the hallway toward the stage.

Y/N stood there for a moment longer than she should have. Then she exhaled quietly and adjusted the collar of her uniform. Somehow, the convention suddenly felt much louder again. And something told her that Elizabeth Olsen was about to become a very regular part of her patrol route.

---

The rest of the convention passed without incident—mostly. Y/N remained stationed near the barricades for the Marvel panel, eyes scanning the crowd out of habit. Fans cheered loudly when the actors stepped onto the stage, cameras flashing like lightning across the hall. From where she stood, Y/N could see Elizabeth Olsen on stage—smiling, laughing with the other cast members, answering questions from the moderator. To everyone else in the room, she looked completely at ease.

But once—just once—Lizzie’s gaze drifted toward the side of the stage. Toward the security area. Toward Y/N. The look lasted barely a second. Still, Y/N noticed.

She forced herself to look back at the crowd. Professional. Focus on the job.

---

Y/N shift ended a few hours later.

By the time she got back into her patrol car, the sky had darkened completely, streetlights flickering on across the quiet neighborhood streets. For a while, nothing happened—just routine patrol. Checking intersections, driving past closed stores, responding to a minor parking complaint.

Then the radio crackled again.

“Unit 24, disturbance complaint. Loud music reported, 400 block of Sycamore.”

Y/N froze for a split second.

Sycamore.

Dispatch continued, “Neighbors reporting excessive noise.”

Y/N pressed the radio button slowly. “Unit 24… I’m nearby.”

A pause. Then—“Copy that.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose.

Unbelievable.

She turned the cruiser down the familiar street, headlights sweeping across the quiet houses. Sure enough, the music was audible before she even parked—not blaring, just loud enough that the bass carried across the neighborhood.

Y/N stepped out of the cruiser, already knowing exactly whose house she was walking toward. The same warm lights glowed from the windows. The same porch.

She knocked. Once. Twice.

The music stopped almost immediately. Footsteps approached. The door opened.

Lizzie stood there again.

This time wearing soft lounge pants and a loose tank top, hair slightly messy like she’d just taken it down from a ponytail. Her smile was completely unapologetic.

“Well,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe again, “Officer Y/F/N.”

Y/N crossed her arms slowly. “We need to stop meeting like this.”

Lizzie bit back a grin. “Do we?”

“Your neighbors filed another complaint.”

Lizzie glanced back inside casually. “Oh.” Then she looked at Y/N again. “Was it too loud?”

“Yes.”

Lizzie nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll turn it down.”

She didn’t move.

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

Lizzie’s lips curved. “You came pretty fast,” she added.

“I was nearby.”

“Convenient.”

Y/N stared at her for a moment. “You knew I was on patrol tonight.”

Lizzie didn’t even try to deny it. “Maybe.”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “You can’t call noise complaints just to see me.”

“I didn’t call it,” Lizzie said innocently. “My neighbors did.”

A pause.

Then Lizzie tilted her head slightly. “And… who said I wanted to see you.” She say with a smirk. 

Y/N ignore her comment and rubbed her temple briefly. “This is not a good use of police resources.”

Lizzie stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “And yet you’re here.”

Y/N met her gaze. “Because it’s my job.”

Lizzie held eye contact. “And because you wanted to see if it was me.”

That landed closer to the truth than Y/N liked.

She didn’t respond.

Lizzie’s smile softened just a little. “You could come in, you know,” she said quietly.

Y/N immediately shook her head. “No.”

“It’s just music.”

“Still no.”

Lizzie leaned against the frame again. “Coffee, then?”

“I’m on duty.”

“You’re very difficult, Officer Y/F/N.”

“I’m professional.”

Lizzie studied her for a long second, then sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

She reached back into the house and turned the music completely off. “There,” she said. “Disturbance resolved.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you.”

She started to turn toward her cruiser.

“Wait.”

Y/N paused.

Lizzie stepped forward onto the porch. “You never answered my question earlier.”

Y/N looked back at her. “What question?”

Lizzie crossed her arms lightly. “Will I be seeing you around again?”

Y/N considered her for a moment, then said calmly, “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you keep causing disturbances.”

Lizzie smiled slowly. “Well,” she said, “I suppose I’ll just have to behave then.”

Y/N nodded once and walked back toward the cruiser.

But as she opened the door—

Lizzie called out behind her. “Goodnight, Officer Y/F/N.”

Y/N paused, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Ms. Olsen.”

Lizzie’s smile lingered long after the cruiser disappeared down the street.

And for the first time that night—The house on Sycamore was completely quiet.

---

One Week Later

A week passed without another call from Sycamore Street. No loud music. No disturbance complaints. Which, if Y/N was honest with herself, was… slightly disappointing.

Tonight, however, she wasn’t on patrol. The club was packed, music vibrating through the floor and up into the walls. Colored lights flashed across the dance floor while people crowded the bar, shouting orders over the bass. Y/N leaned back in her chair at a small table with three other officers from her precinct. Her uniform was gone for the night, replaced with dark jeans, boots, and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms—still unmistakably cop energy.

One of her coworkers, Marcus, raised his glass. “To surviving another week of paperwork and noise complaints.”

Y/N smirked faintly and lifted her own drink and they clinked glasses.

“Speaking of noise complaints,” another officer said with a grin, “didn’t you get called to some celebrity’s house last week?”

Marcus leaned forward immediately. “Oh yeah, that story! The actress, right?”

Y/N took a slow sip of her drink. “It was a routine call.”

Marcus snorted. “Sure it was.”

Y/N ignored him.

After a while, the group decided to grab another round. Y/N pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll go.”

Marcus handed her his empty glass. “Bring back something strong.”

Y/N made her way toward the bar, weaving through the crowd. The bass was loud enough that she could feel it in her chest. She reached the counter just as someone else stepped into the space beside her.

Both of them spoke at the same time. “Can I get—”They stopped.

Y/N turned her head. And there she was.

Elizabeth Olsen

Lizzie blinked in surprise before a slow smile spread across her face. “Well,” she said over the music, “Officer Y/F/N.”

Y/N raised a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Ms. Olsen.”

Lizzie’s gaze moved slowly over her outfit. “You’re not in uniform tonight.”

“Nope,” Y/N replied, relaxed against the bar. “Off duty.”

Lizzie tilted her head slightly, clearly taking that in. “Interesting.”

The bartender approached.

“Tequila,” Lizzie said.

“Whiskey,” Y/N added.

A moment later, the drinks slid across the counter. Lizzie picked up her shot glass but paused, eyes drifting back to Y/N. “You clean up well, Officer.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “You’re still flirting.”

“Maybe.”

Y/N leaned one elbow on the bar, looking directly at her now. “Well,” she said calmly, “I’m off duty tonight.”

Lizzie’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”

Y/N lifted her whiskey glass, taking a slow sip before answering, “So technically… I’m allowed to flirt back.”

Lizzie laughed, clearly pleased. “Good. Because I was starting to think you just enjoyed pretending you weren’t interested.”

Y/N smirked. “I don’t need to pretend now.”

That made Lizzie pause—only for a second. Then she took her tequila shot and set the glass down. “My friends dragged me here after filming wrapped today,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward a table where a group of actors sat laughing.

Y/N followed her gaze. “Co-stars?”

“Unfortunately.”

Y/N chuckled.

Lizzie turned back toward her. “And you? Who are you here with?”

“Coworkers.”

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled slightly. “Police officers?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned a little closer so she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “That explains the intimidating table in the corner.”

Y/N laughed under her breath. “They’re harmless.”

Lizzie studied her for a moment, then smiled slowly. “You know,” she said, voice softer now, “you keep showing up in places I’m not expecting.”

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe you just have a habit of running into me.”

Lizzie leaned her shoulder lightly against the bar. “Maybe I do.”

A brief silence settled between them as the music pulsed through the room. Then Lizzie tilted her head. “If you weren’t here with coworkers,” she said, “I’d probably try to steal you for a dance.”

Y/N met her gaze without hesitation this time. “Who says you can’t?”

Lizzie blinked. “You’d abandon your colleagues?”

“They’ll survive.”

Lizzie laughed again, clearly enjoying this new version of Y/N. “You’re very different when you’re not in uniform.”

“Less rules,” Y/N said simply.

Lizzie took a small step closer. “And what other rules disappear when you’re off duty, Officer Y/F/N?”

Y/N leaned closer as well, voice low enough that only Lizzie could hear. “Depends who I’m talking to.”

For the first time since they’d met—Lizzie looked slightly flustered. Then she recovered with a grin. “Well,” she said, “maybe we should test that theory.”

Y/N picked up the drinks she’d ordered. “Let me drop these off first.”

Lizzie crossed her arms casually. “I’ll be right here.”

Y/N stepped away, weaving back through the crowd toward her table. Marcus immediately leaned forward when she arrived. “Why did that take so long?”

Y/N set the drinks down. “Line was long.” Marcus glanced toward the bar, then his eyes widened. “Wait… isn’t that—”

Y/N grabbed her whiskey. “Don’t start.” Marcus grinned. “Oh you are absolutely leaving this table again.”

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. Because across the room—Lizzie was still standing at the bar. And she was watching her. Not casually either.

Her arms rested lightly against the counter, one shoulder leaning into the bar as if she had nowhere else to be. Her eyes stayed fixed on Y/N through the shifting crowd, the corner of her mouth tilted in a knowing smile.

Marcus followed Y/N’s line of sight to check the girl properly. Then he choked on his drink.

“Holy—”

Y/N set the glasses down on the table. “Don’t.”

Marcus pointed toward the bar. “That’s Elizabeth Olsen!”

Another officer turned around immediately. “No way.”

Y/N grabbed her own whiskey glass and took a quick sip. “Relax.”

Marcus leaned closer. “Relax? She’s staring at you.”

Y/N glanced back again. Lizzie hadn’t moved. If anything, the smile on her face had gotten slightly more amused.

Marcus slowly looked back at Y/N. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Why are you still here? She’s waiting for you!”

Y/N shrugged casually. “If you stop talking to me, I would be there already!”

Marcus dropped back into his chair dramatically. “This is the best night of my life.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, finishing the rest of her drink. “Don’t wait up.” Before anyone else could say anything, she turned and started walking back toward the bar. The crowd shifted around her as she crossed the dance floor, lights flashing across the room in bursts of blue and red.

Lizzie noticed immediately. Her smile widened just a little as Y/N approached.

“Took you long enough,” Lizzie said.

Y/N stopped beside her, leaning one forearm against the bar. “Had to make sure my coworkers didn’t follow me.”

Lizzie laughed softly. “They seemed very interested.”

“They’re nosy.”

Lizzie studied her for a moment. “You came back.”

“You said you’d be here.”

Lizzie lifted a brow. “And you always do what people tell you?”

Y/N smirked. “Only when I want to.”

Lizzie tilted her head slightly, clearly enjoying the shift in tone. “So,” she said, glancing briefly toward the dance floor, “were you serious earlier?”

“About what?”

“The dancing.”

Y/N looked toward the crowded floor—bodies moving under flashing lights, music pounding through the room—then back at Lizzie. “You still trying to steal me?”

Lizzie stepped a little closer. “Maybe.”

Y/N pushed herself off the bar. “Well,” she said calmly, “let’s see if you can.”

Lizzie blinked, then laughed. “You’re challenging me?”

Y/N held out her hand slightly. “Thought you wanted a dance.”

Lizzie didn’t hesitate. She placed her hand in Y/N’s—her fingers warm—and Y/N led her through the crowd toward the dance floor.

As soon as they stepped into the lights, the bass vibrated through the floor beneath them. Lizzie moved closer so they could hear each other. “You know,” she said, smiling up at her, “this is definitely not how I expected our third meeting to go.”

Y/N’s hand rested lightly at her waist as the music pulsed around them. “Disappointed?”

Lizzie shook her head slowly. “Very much the opposite.”

The space between them grew smaller as people moved around them, the dance floor pulsing with bodies and flashing lights, bass rolling through the club like a heartbeat. At first, they danced close but still respectful—Y/N’s hand steady and warm at Lizzie’s waist, Lizzie moving easily with the music, occasionally glancing up at her with a playful look that made Y/N’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the noise or heat.

Then the song changed. The beat dropped into something slower. Heavier.

The kind of song that made the crowd instinctively press closer together.

Lizzie looked up at Y/N, eyes sparkling with mischief. Before Y/N could ask what that look meant, Lizzie turned around, catching Y/N’s hand and guiding it more firmly to her waist.

The message was clear.

Don’t move it.

Y/N’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested against Lizzie’s side.

Lizzie leaned back against her, body fitting easily as she began to move with the rhythm—hips rolling slowly to the beat, controlled, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

And maybe she did.

Y/N swallowed, her other hand instinctively settling more securely at Lizzie’s waist to steady her as the space between them disappeared completely.

Lizzie kept moving against her—slow, deliberate. Y/N started to move as well.

Lizzie reach a hand up, hooking on y/n neck as she turn her head to whisper in Y/N ear, “you dance well officer.” 

Y/N squeeze lightly Lizzie’s waist, making the latter smile wider. Lizzie continue to roll her hips back, still in the beat. 

Then suddenly—She stilled.

Just for a second.

Lizzie glanced down slightly, brows knitting in confusion. Then she turned, stepping close enough that Y/N could feel her breath when she leaned up toward her ear.

“Are you packing?” Lizzie murmured, voice teasing over the music.

The question hit Y/N like a spark. Heat rushed up her neck. Y/N shook her head quickly. “No,” she said quietly, leaning down so Lizzie could hear her over the bass. “I’m… intersex.”

For a second, Lizzie just looked at her. Her eyes widened slightly—not shocked, more surprised in a way that made curiosity bloom across her expression.

Then something in her gaze shifted.

Something bold. Something intrigued.

Before Y/N could read it fully, Lizzie grabbed her hand.

“Come on.”

Y/N blinked. “Lizzie—”

But Lizzie was already moving, weaving through the crowd while still holding her hand tightly. People parted as they pushed their way off the dance floor.

“You do realize,” Y/N said with a breathless laugh as she followed, “you’re dragging a police officer out of a club.”

Lizzie glanced back with a grin. “You’re off duty.”

They burst through the doors and out into the cool night air. The sudden quiet after the pounding music made the moment feel almost surreal.

Lizzie didn’t slow down. She lifted her hand, flagging down a cab pulling up to the curb.

The taxi stopped.

Lizzie opened the door and pulled Y/N inside with her. They slid into the back seat together. Lizzie leaned forward. “400 block of Sycamore, please,” she told the driver. The cab pulled away, city lights sliding past the windows.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Lizzie leaned back against the seat, turning slightly toward Y/N—her hand still wrapped around Y/N’s. She didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she did. Her eyes drifted slowly over Y/N again—the dark shirt, the strong line of her shoulders, the way she filled the seat beside her.

Lizzie smirked softly.

Slowly, almost absentmindedly, she shifted closer. The cab wasn’t big to begin with, but somehow the space between them shrank even more.

Her hand slid from where it had been resting on Y/N’s.

Lower. Not rushing. Just exploring. Her fingers brushed along Y/N’s thigh first, light and curious, as if testing whether Y/N would stop her.

Y/N didn’t move. If anything, she leaned back deeper into the seat, watching Lizzie with a calm that didn’t quite match the heat building in her chest.

Lizzie’s hand moved a little higher along Y/N’s thigh, stopping just short of the obvious tension beneath the dark fabric of her jeans.

Close. Very close.

Her fingers hovered there for a moment before resting lightly against Y/N’s leg.

And all Y/N could think about was how far Lizzie’s house was—because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold back. 

---

The cab ride felt like an eternity, the hum of the engine and the flickering streetlights providing a rhythmic backdrop to the tension thick enough to touch. By the time the taxi screeched to a halt in front of the familiar house on Sycamore Street, the air between them was practically electric.

The moment the front door clicked open, all pretense of patience vanished. Y/N didn’t even have the door fully closed before Lizzie’s hands were in her hair, pulling her down. They collided in a kiss that was frantic and hungry, a desperate release of the tension that had been building since that first disturbance call. It wasn't polite; it was a collision of teeth and tongues and stifled groans.

Lizzie didn't break the connection for a second. She moved backward into the darkened foyer, her hands gripping the collar of Y/N’s button-down to pull her along. Y/N followed blindly, her foot hooking the door and slamming it shut with a heavy thud before her hand found the deadbolt, locking the world out without ever taking her eyes off Lizzie.

The moment the lock clicked, Lizzie shifted. With a surge of energy, she jumped, her arms winding tightly around Y/N’s neck. Y/N reacted instantly, her hands sliding under Lizzie’s thighs to catch her, hoisting her up and pinning her against the closed door.

Lizzie’s legs wrapped firmly around Y/N’s waist, her body molding perfectly against the officer's strong frame. The friction was immediate, a sharp reminder of the confession in the club that had sent them spiraling toward this moment.

Lizzie pulled back just an inch, her lips swollen and her breath coming in ragged hitches. Her eyes were dark, blown wide with a mix of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated want.

“Upstairs,” Lizzie whispered against Y/N’s lips, her voice a low, gravelly command that sent a shiver straight down Y/N’s spine. “Second room on the right.”

She didn’t wait for an answer before diving back in, her kiss even more demanding than the last. Y/N didn't need to be told twice. Keeping her grip secure on Lizzie’s thighs, she began to navigate the hallway, her boots heavy on the hardwood as she carried the actress toward the stairs, neither of them willing to break the contact for even a heartbeat.

Each step up the stairs felt like a challenge. Y/N tried not to bump as she navigated the climb without breaking the kiss. Lizzie was a whirlwind in her arms—fingers tugging at Y/N’s hair, her chest heaving against Y/N’s as they crested the landing.

When they reached the second door on the right, Y/N didn’t bother with finesse. She nudged the door open with her shoulder, the moonlight from the large windows spilling across a messy bed and a discarded script on the floor.

Y/N carried her straight to the mattress, lowering her down but never fully letting go. As Lizzie’s back hit the soft linens, she didn't pull Y/N down with her—not yet. Instead, she sat up on her elbows, her eyes tracing the silhouette of the officer hovering over her. “The uniform was good,” Lizzie breathed, her voice dropping into that sultry, deliberate tone she used on stage, but this time, it was entirely real. “But I think I like this version better. The one who doesn't follow the rules.” Y/N reached down, her thumbs tracing the line of Lizzie’s jaw. The "professional" facade had been stripped away, replaced by a raw, focused intensity.

"You've been asking for a disturbance all week, Ms. Olsen," Y/N murmured, her voice vibrating low in her throat. She leaned in, her lips hovering just a breath away from Lizzie’s ear. "I'd hate to disappoint a citizen."

Lizzie let out a shaky laugh that turned into a gasp as Y/N’s hands moved from her jaw down to the hem of her tank top. Lizzie arched her back, helping Y/N slide the fabric up and over her head, throwing it blindly toward the corner of the room.

The playfulness from the club was gone, replaced by a heavy, magnetic pull. Lizzie reached for the buttons of Y/N’s black shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly in her haste. Y/N took over, snapping the buttons open with efficient, practiced movements until the shirt was tossed aside, leaving her in just her undershirt, her physique highlighted by the pale moonlight.

Lizzie’s breath hitched as she looked at her—really looked at her. Her hands came up to rest on Y/N’s shoulders, feeling the solid heat of her skin. “No more talking,” Lizzie whispered, pulling Y/N back down into the pillows.

Lizzie’s hands locked behind Y/N’s neck, pulling her down with a strength born of pure desperation. The kiss was no longer a tease; it was a battle. Their tongues tangled and fought for dominance, a feverish exchange that tasted of whiskey, tequila, and the sharp electricity of the last two weeks. Lizzie let out a muffled moan against Y/N’s lips, her back arching off the mattress as she sought more friction, more contact.

Y/N’s free hand didn’t stay still. It wandered with a slow, agonizing intent along the curve of Lizzie’s ribs, her fingertips dancing over the sensitive skin and making Lizzie shiver violently. The touch was grounding yet localizing the heat, moving upward until Y/N’s palm finally cupped the soft weight of Lizzie’s breast.

The sensation made Lizzie’s breath hitch, her rhythm breaking for a split second as she melted into the touch. Y/N finally broke the kiss, her breathing labored as she trailed a path of wet, searing heat down Lizzie’s throat. She moved lower, her nose brushing against the lace of Lizzie’s bra. With a steady, practiced hand, Y/N hooked her fingers under the edge of the cup, slowly peeling the fabric back.

The lace gave way, revealing Lizzie’s breast to the pale moonlight. Her nipple was already peaked, a testament to the chill in the air and the fire in the room. Lizzie’s head fell back into the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a long, shaky exhale. “Y/N...” she whimpered, her fingers digging into Y/N’s shoulders, "Please."

Y/N didn't make her wait. She leaned down, her warm breath ghosting over the bared skin for a heartbeat before she swirled her tongue around the tip, savoring the way Lizzie’s entire body jolted at the contact.

Lizzie’s fingers tangled deep into Y/N’s hair, her knuckles white as she held Y/N’s head against her chest. A choked, breathless curse left her lips—something raw—as Y/N’s tongue continued its deliberate, swirling torture. The contrast of Y/N’s warm mouth against the cool night air sent waves of heat crashing through Lizzie, making her toes curl into the expensive silk sheets.

"Oh god, Y/N," Lizzie gasped, her hips rolling up instinctively, seeking the solid weight of the woman above her.

Y/N didn’t let up. She increased the pressure, her tongue flicking across the sensitive peak before she drew the entire length into her mouth, sucking firmly. The sound of it, wet and intimate in the quiet room, broke whatever was left of Lizzie’s composure. Her back arched violently, her breath hitching in a high-pitched whine as she pressed Y/N closer, as if she were trying to pull the officer right through her skin.

Y/N’s hand, still cupping Lizzie’s other breast, began to knead the soft flesh, her thumb mimicking the rhythm of her mouth on the opposite side. The double assault was too much. Lizzie’s hands shifted from Y/N’s hair to her shoulders, her nails digging in slightly as she tried to find some kind of anchor in the storm.

"You're... you're doing this on purpose," Lizzie managed to ground out, a shaky, desperate laugh bubbling in her throat even as she shivered.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look up, her eyes dark and heavy with a focus that was far more dangerous than any professional stare she’d given on the street. A stray drop of moisture glistened on her lower lip, and the sight of it made Lizzie’s heart skip a beat.

"I just can’t stop," Y/N murmured, her voice a low, gravelly vibration that Lizzie felt in her very bones. “You taste so sweet."

Y/N leaned up, capturing Lizzie’s lips in a kiss that was slower this time, deeper—tasting the surrender in Lizzie’s breath. It was a silent promise of what was coming next. As they pulled apart, Y/N’s gaze lingered on Lizzie’s flushed face before she began her descent, her lips trailing a path of fire down the center of Lizzie’s stomach. Each kiss was a deliberate mark of intent. Lizzie’s breath came in short, jagged hitches, her hands clutching at the blankets as Y/N moved lower.

When Y/N reached the waistband of the lounge pants, she didn't hesitate. Her hands hooked into the fabric, and with a smooth, firm tug, she pulled the pants and the thin lace beneath them down Lizzie’s long legs. The cool air hit Lizzie’s skin, but it was immediately replaced by the radiating heat of Y/N’s presence.

Lizzie felt completely exposed, the moonlight illuminating every curve, but the way Y/N looked at her—with a raw, hunger-filled reverence—made her feel powerful instead of vulnerable.

Y/N knelt between Lizzie's knees, her hands sliding up to grip Lizzie’s thighs, spreading them slightly. The sight of her there, the "intimidating" officer now completely focused on Lizzie’s pleasure, made Lizzie’s head light.

"Y/N," Lizzie breathed, her voice a mix of a plea and a command.

Y/N looked up, a dark smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You wanted to see the off-duty version of me, Lizzie," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous level. "I think it’s time I showed you exactly how I handle a certain disturbance." She leaned forward, her breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of Lizzie's inner thigh, making the actress cry out and arch her back in anticipation.

Y/N didn’t make her wait another second. She leaned in, her tongue finding the center of Lizzie’s heat with a slow, broad stroke that made Lizzie’s entire body go rigid. A sharp, broken gasp escaped Lizzie’s throat, her fingers instantly finding Y/N’s hair again, but this time her grip was frantic, pulling her closer.

Y/N let out a low, vibrating moan against Lizzie’s skin, the sound muffled by the intimacy of the act. "God, Lizzie," Y/N breathed, the heat of her words ghosting over the sensitive folds. "You taste so sweet... better than I imagined."

She dove back in, her pace picking up. Y/N used her tongue with the same practiced focus she used for everything, but there was a raw hunger here that was anything but professional. She licked deep and rhythmic, swirling around the hypersensitive peak before dragging her tongue back down.

Lizzie was coming apart. Her head thrashed against the pillows, her hips rolling and lifting off the bed in a desperate attempt to get more of Y/N. The sound of wet, rhythmic sliding filled the quiet room, punctuated by Lizzie’s high, melodic whimpers.

"Y/N... please, oh god," Lizzie sobbed out, her nails scratching lightly against Y/N’s scalp.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of vanilla and the raw, heavy musk of desire. Y/N ignored the frantic tugging on her hair, her focus narrowing down to the center of Lizzie’s heat. With a steady, deliberate motion, Y/N used her thumbs to spread Lizzie’s folds, exposing the glistening, sensitive skin to the moonlight. Lizzie let out a broken sound—half-gasp, half-sob—as the cool air hit her, but the chill didn't last long.

Y/N leaned in, her tongue sliding deep into Lizzie’s entrance. The contact was electric. Lizzie’s back arched so violently her shoulders almost left the mattress, her fingers digging into Y/N’s scalp as she tried to anchor herself. Y/N didn’t pull back; she moved with a rhythmic, taxing pressure, her tongue mimicking the slow, deep slide Lizzie had been begging for.

As she worked, Y/N’s nose brushed against the swollen bud of Lizzie’s clitoris. The accidental friction sent a jolt straight through the actress.

"Y/N! Right there," Lizzie screamed, her voice cracking.

Recognizing the shift, Y/N pivoted. She kept her tongue moving deep inside, but began to rhythmically flick her nose upward, catching that hypersensitive peak with every stroke. It was a dual assault that Lizzie wasn't prepared for. Her legs shook, her knees threatening to give out even as she lay flat, and her hands moved from Y/N’s head to the sheets, gripping it so hard that her fingers became white.

Lizzie was no longer the composed movie star; she was a live wire, sparking and crashing under Y/N’s expert touch. "I can't... I’m going to—" Lizzie’s voice trailed off into a series of incoherent stutters as her internal muscles began to clamp down around Y/N’s tongue, the first ripples of a massive climax beginning to take hold.

Just as Lizzie reached the precipice, the sudden absence of Y/N’s tongue made her let out a whimper of pure, frustrated protest. Her eyes snapped open, hooded and glazed with heat, ready to beg—but the words died in her throat.

Y/N stood at the edge of the bed, the moonlight carving out the sharp, powerful lines of her silhouette. With a fluid, athletic motion, she gripped the hem of her undershirt and pulled it over her head, discarding it along with her bra.

Lizzie’s breath hitched. She had seen Y/N in the uniform, and she’d seen the hints of her strength in the club, but the reality of Y/N’s bare skin—the broad shoulders and the lean, functional muscle of her torso—was almost too much to take in.

Y/N didn't waste a second. Her fingers flew to the button of her jeans. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet, and from there a small, foil square, which she brought to her mouth, catching the edge of the condom pack between her teeth. There was something undeniably primal about the gesture, her dark eyes never leaving Lizzie’s as she gripped the waistband of her denim and boxers together. With one firm tug, she kicked the clothes away.

Lizzie’s hands instinctively slid down her own damp inner thighs, her fingers tracing the skin Y/N had just been worshipping. Her gaze was locked on Y/N, taking in the sight of her, fully aroused and undeniably ready. The weight of the moment shifted; the playful teasing of the past week had finally culminated in this raw, physical truth.

Lizzie didn’t wait for Y/N to move. Fueled by a sudden, bold surge of adrenaline, she crawled across the mattress toward the edge of the bed where Y/N stood. Her loose hair fell forward, framing her face as she leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the tip of Y/N’s length. She didn't break eye contact, her gaze simmering with a mix of mischief and pure hunger.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hands finding purchase in Lizzie’s hair as she let out a low, guttural groan. Lizzie didn't stop there; she leaned in further, bobbing on Y/N’s length a few times, the sensation and the visual of the famous actress so completely devoted to her pleasure nearly breaking Y/N’s resolve.

Then, Lizzie pulled back and rose to her knees, bringing them eye-to-eye. She reached out and took the foil packet from Y/N’s mouth, her teeth catching the edge to rip it open with a sharp snap. She moved with a slow, deliberate confidence, rolling the rubber down Y/N’s length until she was fully protected and ready.

The moment it was on, Lizzie lunged forward, capturing Y/N’s lips in a kiss so hungry it felt like she was trying to consume her. Y/N met her with equal fervor, her arms wrapping around Lizzie’s waist to lift her back onto the center of the bed. They tumbled onto the pillows, a tangle of limbs and frantic heat, the kiss never breaking as Y/N settled between Lizzie’s spread legs.

The playful banter of the street and the club was a distant memory. Y/N reached down, her fingers steadying her member as she guided it to Lizzie’s entrance. The contact was electric, both of them gasping into the kiss at the first touch of friction.

"Look at me," Y/N whispered against her lips, her voice thick and commanding. Lizzie’s eyes flew open, bright with tears of anticipation, as Y/N began to push forward, slowly merging their bodies into one.

The sensation was overwhelming. As Y/N pushed forward, the slow, steady stretch forced a long, broken moan from Lizzie’s throat. She arched her back, her fingers digging into Y/N’s biceps, feeling every inch of the connection as they became one. It was a perfect, tight fit. 

Y/N stayed still for a moment, buried deep, her forehead resting against Lizzie’s. Both of them were breathing as if they’d just run a marathon, their hearts hammering a frantic rhythm against each other’s chests.

"You okay?" Y/N rasped, her voice thick with the effort of holding back.

Lizzie answered by wrapping her legs around Y/N’s waist and pulling her closer, her heels digging into Y/N’s lower back. "Don't you dare stop," she hissed, a desperate, beautiful command.

Y/N didn't. She began to move, pulling back until she was almost all out before driving back in with a soft thud of hips meeting. The rhythm was slow at first, deliberate and agonizingly deep, each thrust drawing a high, melodic sob from Lizzie.

"Y/N... oh god, Y/N," Lizzie chanted, her head tossing from side to side on the pillow. The pace shifted as the friction built. Y/N gripped Lizzie’s hips, her thumbs pressing into the skin to hold her steady as the movements became faster, more urgent. The sound of their bodies meeting and the soft, wet friction filled the room, a private symphony of the disturbance they had both been craving.

The slow, deep rhythm fractured into something far more primal. Y/N’s grip on Lizzie’s hips was bruisingly firm, her thumbs anchoring into the dip of Lizzie’s waist to meet every frantic roll of her hips. Each thrust was punctuated by the wet, slapping sound of skin on skin, a steady beat that matched the hammering of their hearts.

Y/N leaned down, capturing Lizzie’s mouth in a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a claim. Their tongues clashed, sliding against one another as they traded gasps and broken moans. Amidst the chaos of the kiss, Y/N’s hand moved upward, her palm grazing over Lizzie’s ribs before cupping one breast. She squeezed the soft weight, her thumb flicking repeatedly over the already sensitive nipple until Lizzie let out a high-pitched whine against her lips.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N trailed her mouth down Lizzie’s throat, leaving a line of searing heat before she latched onto the bared nipple. She sucked hard, her tongue swirling and teasing the peak while she continued to drive into Lizzie with a relentless, punishing pace.

"Y/N... please, please," Lizzie sobbed, her back arching so high her chest pressed harder into Y/N’s mouth.

Y/N suddenly shifted. She pushed herself up, sitting tall while still buried deep inside Lizzie. The change in angle hit a spot that made Lizzie’s eyes roll back into her head. Y/N gripped Lizzie’s waist with both hands, using her strength to lift and pull Lizzie’s hips up to meet her as she accelerated.

The movement was blistering—fast, deep, and rhythmic. Y/N watched Lizzie’s face in the moonlight, seeing the raw vulnerability and the sheer pleasure written in the tension of her jaw. Lizzie’s hands flew to her own stomach, her fingers digging in as her internal muscles began to pulse and clamp around Y/N in a rhythmic, desperate squeeze.

"I'm—I'm going to—" Lizzie’s voice broke into a series of jagged cries as she spiraled over the edge, her body shuddering with the force of a massive, toe-curling climax.

Y/N didn't stop, but she leaned down, her chest heavy against Lizzie’s as she slowed her hips to a grinding, agonizingly deep pace. She captured Lizzie’s mouth again, kissing her deeply, their lips bruising as they shared the taste of the salt on their skin. The kiss was hard, desperate, a silent conversation between the officer and the woman who had finally caught her.

As the waves of Lizzie's release began to settle into a soft tremor, Y/N felt her own limit approaching, but she paused for a moment, her forehead resting against Lizzie’s, both of them panting in the heavy, scented air of the room. Lizzie didn’t let her stay still for long; she reached up, her fingers tangling into the short hairs at the nape of Y/N’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss that was surprisingly soft, slow, and devastatingly intimate.

It was the kind of kiss that shifted the room from a frantic disturbance to something deeper. Lizzie’s lips moved against Y/N’s with a lingering hunger, her tongue tracing Y/N’s bottom lip as if she were trying to memorize the sensation.

"Y/N," Lizzie breathed against her mouth, a soft, shaky whisper.

Y/N reluctantly broke the kiss, the separation of their lips feeling like a physical pull. She withdrew slowly, the sudden absence of her weight making Lizzie let out a small, needy sound of protest. But the protest died in her throat as she watched Y/N move in the moonlight.

Y/N didn't go far. She shifted her weight, the bed creaking under her athletic frame as she moved to the center of the mattress. She reached out, her hands firm yet gentle as she gripped Lizzie’s waist, silently guiding her.

Lizzie understood the unspoken command immediately. She moved with a fluid grace, turning over until she was on her hands and knees, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a silk curtain. The view from behind was devastating—the curve of Lizzie's back, the flush of her skin, and the way she looked back over her shoulder with an expression that was half-dazed and entirely expectant.

Y/N leaned down, her hands sliding over the smooth curves of Lizzie’s thighs to pull her back just an inch further. With a low, appreciative hum, Y/N used her fingers to spread the delicate skin of Lizzie’s core, exposing the glistening heat she had just been worshipping.

The cool air of the room hit Lizzie first, but it was immediately replaced by the searing warmth of Y/N’s tongue. Y/N licked her with long, slow strokes, tasting the sweet, salt-slicked reality of her. Lizzie’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into the pillows as her back arched into the contact.

"You taste so good, Lizzie," Y/N murmured against her skin, her voice a rough, gravelly vibration that made Lizzie’s knees tremble. "I could stay right here all night."

Lizzie let out a broken, needy sound, her head falling forward as she struggled to keep her balance. "Y/N... please... I need—"

Y/N didn't let her finish. She stood back on her knees just enough to position herself, her hands returning to Lizzie’s hips with a grip that was steady and grounding. With one smooth, powerful surge, she slid back in from behind.

The depth of the new angle was staggering. Lizzie let out a sharp, high-pitched cry that was lost in the quiet house, her body yielding to the intrusion as Y/N filled her completely. Y/N didn't give her a second to adjust before she began to move, her chest pressing against Lizzie’s back, her hands sliding up to lock onto Lizzie’s waist to drive the rhythm home.

The sound of their bodies meeting was louder now—rhythmic, wet, and relentless. Y/N buried her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, inhaling the scent of vanilla and sweat as she picked up the pace, determined to bring Lizzie to the edge one more time, and this time, herself as well. 

The rhythm became a frantic, desperate thing. Y/N’s hands moved from Lizzie’s waist, one sliding up to grip her shoulder while the other reached forward, her fingers finding the sensitive, swollen bud of Lizzie’s clitoris.

The double friction was the breaking point. Y/N began to drive into her with a relentless, heavy pace, each thrust bottoming out and sending a jolt through Lizzie’s entire frame. The sound of wet, rhythmic contact filled the room, a private symphony of the "disturbance" they had both been chasing since that first night.

"Y/N, I'm—I can't—!" Lizzie’s voice was a ragged, high-pitched sob. Her head thrashed against the pillows as she tried to find air, her internal muscles pulsing and squeezing around Y/N in a rhythmic, desperate trap.

Y/N groaned, the sound deep and guttural, vibrating through her chest and into Lizzie’s back. She didn't slow down. She leaned forward, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Lizzie’s shoulder as she delivered several hard, final thrusts.

"Go for it, Lizzie," Y/N rasped, her voice thick with her own looming release. "Come for me."

Lizzie screamed into the pillow, her body stiffening as she spiraled over the edge. The tremors started in her core and radiated outward, her legs shaking so violently she could barely stay upright. Seconds later, Y/N followed her into the abyss. She buried herself deep one last time, her muscles locking as she poured everything into the condom. 

The room fell into a heavy, ringing silence, broken only by the sound of their labored breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Y/N didn't pull away immediately. She collapsed forward, her weight pressing Lizzie into the mattress, her face buried in the crook of Lizzie’s neck. They stayed like that for a long time—two bodies tangled and cooling in the moonlight—while the adrenaline slowly bled out of the air.

Lizzie was the first to move, her fingers reaching back to weakly stroke Y/N’s arm.

"So," Lizzie whispered, her voice a beautiful, wrecked mess. "Should I... call dispatch and tell them the disturbance has been handled?"

Y/N let out a low, tired chuckle against her skin. "I think the report is going to be a little late tonight."

---

The shift in their relationship was as sudden as it was intense. What started as a "neighborhood disturbance" evolved into a covert, high-stakes arrangement. Elizabeth Olsen, the world-famous actress, and Y/N, the steady-handed police officer, found a rhythm that existed entirely in the spaces between Lizzie’s filming schedule and Y/N’s patrol shifts.

One time was during Lunch Break.

Lizzie had a rare afternoon off during a local shoot. Y/N was halfway through a double shift when her personal phone vibrated in her pocket.

Lizzie: I'm reading a script for a horror movie. I think I heard a "suspicious noise" in the kitchen. Better come investigate. Now.

Y/N showed up twenty minutes later in full uniform. She didn't even make it past the foyer. Lizzie met her at the door wearing nothing but one of Y/N’s discarded gym shirts. The "investigation" took place against the closed front door, Y/N’s utility belt clinking rhythmically against the wood as Lizzie wrapped her legs around her waist, demanding a different kind of service. Y/N had to straighten her tie and check her face for stray lipstick in the cruiser mirror before heading back to the precinct.

Another time was right before one of Lizzie’s Red Carpet. 

Before a major premiere, Lizzie’s house was a whirlwind of stylists and publicists. Y/N stayed tucked away in the bedroom, watching the chaos from a distance. Once the glam squad finally cleared out, Lizzie ducked back into the room, looking breathtaking in a floor-length, backless silk gown.

“I have ten minutes before the car gets here,” Lizzie whispered, backing Y/N up against the bed.

Y/N’s hands were careful not to wrinkle the designer fabric as she hiked the skirt up just enough. The contrast of the high-glamour gown and the raw, frantic pace they shared was a dizzying rush. When Lizzie walked out to the waiting limo, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright, leaving Y/N to catch her breath in the quiet house.

Sometimes, it wasn't about the heat—it was about the comedown. After a particularly grueling shift for Y/N, she’d arrive at Sycamore Street at 3:00 AM. Lizzie would be awake, waiting with two glasses of wine or a pot of tea.

They’d sit on the oversized couch, Y/N’s head in Lizzie’s lap. Lizzie would run her fingers through Y/N’s hair, listening to the mundane details of the shit shift Y/N had and the paperwork she had to do after that, while Lizzie talked about the pressures of the industry. These nights usually ended in slow, languid movements under the heavy duvet—intimacy that felt less like a "disturbance" and more like a sanctuary.

---

They crossed paths again at another convention, but this time, the secret was theirs. As Y/N stood post near the green room, Lizzie walked past with her entourage. She didn't stop, but as she brushed past, her hand "accidentally" grazed Y/N’s hand, her pinky hooking Y/N’s for a split second.

Lizzie leaned in as if to ask a security question, her voice a low purr:

“I’m thinking about that night in the cab. You’re wearing the boxers I like today, aren't you?”

Y/N had to maintain a stone-faced professional expression while her heart hammered against her ribs, watching Lizzie walk away with a triumphant sway in her hips.

---

Two months later

It was barely 1:00 PM, and the sun was beating down on the pavement outside, but inside the house on Sycamore, the curtains were drawn, and the air was thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the rhythmic creak of the sofa.

Y/N had a sixty-minute lunch window. She had spent ten of it driving and another five simply trying to get her boots and utility belt off as Lizzie practically pulled her through the front door.

Now, Y/N was sitting on the edge of the plush living room sofa, her uniform shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. Lizzie was straddling her, her knees tucked into the cushions on either side of Y/N’s hips. Lizzie’s head was tilted back, a long, shaky moan escaping her as Y/N’s hands gripped her waist, lifting and lowering her with a focused, relentless pace. "You're... you're going to be late," Lizzie panted, her fingers digging into Y/N’s shoulders, her nails scratching lightly against the skin.

"Then stop moving like that," Y/N rasped, her voice dropping into that low, authoritative register that always made Lizzie’s pulse spike.

Y/N leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, inhaling the scent of expensive perfume and the salt of her skin. She increased the tempo, her hips snapping upward to meet Lizzie’s downward slide. The friction was perfect, a wet, sliding heat that made the rest of the world—the precinct, the paperwork, the city—feel like a distant memory.

Lizzie’s hands shifted from Y/N’s shoulders to her face, cupping her cheeks and pulling her into a kiss that tasted of desperation. They were right on the edge, the tension in Lizzie’s thighs tightening as she prepared to shatter.

Then, the sharp, digital chirp of Y/N’s department radio cut through the air like a siren.

“Unit 24, come in. We’ve got a 10-16 at the station, Sergeant needs eyes on that evidence log immediately. Break your 10-7 and head back.”

Y/N froze, her forehead resting against Lizzie’s. She didn't pull out, but the rhythm stopped.

"Ignore it," Lizzie whispered against her lips, her hips giving a small, hopeful hitch.

“Unit 24, Y/F/N, you copy? I know you’re on lunch, but this is a priority.”

Y/N let out a long, frustrated groan that sounded more like a growl. She pulled back, looking at Lizzie—whose hair was a mess, lips swollen, and eyes wide with interrupted bliss.

"I have to go," Y/N said, the words tasting like lead.

"You're joking," Lizzie gasped, her hands still locked behind Y/N’s neck. "You are literally inside me, Officer. That has to be a higher priority than a logbook."

Y/N let out a rough chuckle, reaching up to gently detach Lizzie’s hands so she could lift her off. "If I don't answer, they'll send a supervisor to check my GPS. And as much as I like this house, I don't think we want the Sergeant seeing the 'disturbance' I'm currently handling."

Reluctantly, Y/N stood up, her body aching with the sudden lack of contact. She reached for her radio, keyed the mic, and kept her voice remarkably steady despite her racing heart.

"Unit 24. Copy that. Heading back now. Ten minutes out."

Lizzie stayed on the sofa, slumped back against the cushions, her shirt rumpled and her legs still draped over the edge. She watched with a mix of amusement and genuine frustration as Y/N hurriedly buttoned her shirt and tucked it back into her pants. "This is police brutality," Lizzie teased, though her voice was still thick with desire.

Y/N leaned over, pinning Lizzie’s wrists to the sofa for one last, searing kiss that promised a very long night later.

"Leave the door unlocked at 10:00 PM," Y/N murmured against her lips. "I’ll finish the report then."

---

The clock on the dashboard of the cruiser ticked over to 21:58 as Y/N pulled onto the station. 

She rushed inside to get her things. She didn’t even change. She only put on a jacket over the uniform and ignored everybody who tried to talk to her. In 10 minutes she was back at the Sycamore Street for the third time that week. This time, she wasn’t responding to a call; she was finishing what the department had so rudely interrupted.

She killed the engine and the lights. She through the jacket to the back seat before stepping out into the cool night air. True to her word, the front door was unlocked. The house was quiet, lit only by a few low lamps that cast long, amber shadows across the hallway.

Y/N didn't even make it to the stairs before she was intercepted. 

Lizzie appeared from the shadows of the living room, already moving toward her with a predatory grace. She was wearing a silk robe that looked like it would slide off with a single breath. The moment they collided, it was a mess of hands and teeth, the frustration of the afternoon boiling over into a frantic greeting.

"God, I've been thinking about this since one o'clock," Lizzie breathed against Y/N’s neck, her hands immediately going to Y/N’s uniform shirt.

Y/N groaned, her hands finding Lizzie’s waist and hoisting her up onto the heavy oak dining table. The wood groaned under the weight, but neither cared.

"You have no idea how hard it was to sit through a briefing after leaving you like that," Y/N rasped.

Lizzie’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of the shirt, her eyes roaming over the crisp lines of the dark fabric, the silver badge, and the way the sleeves hugged Y/N’s forearms. She paused for a heartbeat, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips.

"You know," Lizzie murmured, her voice dropping into that low, enchanting tone she used when she wanted something, "I know I teased you about the 'seriousness' of it all, but you look so incredibly good in this uniform. It makes me want to break every law just to see you come after me."

Y/N let out a rough laugh, her hands moving to her belt. "Is that so? Well, consider yourself under arrest."

They moved to shed the layers, but as Y/N’s hands reached for the heavy utility belt, she paused. The metallic clink of the equipment reminded her of the one thing that didn't belong in a moment this intimate.

She pulled back for a second, the heat between them momentarily suspended as she unholstered her sidearm. With a practiced, heavy thud, she placed the gun on the far end of the dining table, followed by her handcuffs and radio. The silence that followed was heavy, the sight of the weapon on the table serving as a stark reminder of the world Y/N had just stepped out of.

Lizzie stared at the equipment for a second, then looked back up at Y/N, her eyes darker than before. The transition from "Officer" to "Y/N" was complete.

"Now," Lizzie whispered, reaching out to grab Y/N’s tie and pulling her back into the space between her knees. "No more interruptions."

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She stripped the uniform shirt off, the buttons straining before the fabric hit the floor, and she dove back into the heat of Lizzie’s kiss, finally delivering the "full report" she had promised.

---

Next Morning

The next morning felt strangely quiet.

Y/N had barely slept. After leaving Elizabeth Olsen’s house just after sunrise, she’d driven home with the windows down, the cool air doing little to calm the restless energy still humming through her body.

Now she stood in her apartment bathroom, toweling off after a quick shower. The hot water had helped clear her head—at least a little.

She pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a simple black shirt, running a hand through her still-damp hair before grabbing the things she always carried before a shift: keys, badge, gun. She checked the chamber automatically before holstering it, years of routine making the motion second nature.

Then she reached for her phone, but the counter was empty.

Y/N frowned.

She checked the kitchen table. Nothing. The couch. Still nothing.

Then it hit her.

“Damn it.”

Lizzie’s house.

She must have left it there sometime during the chaos of the night before. Y/N glanced at the clock. She still had time before reporting to the station. With a quiet sigh, she grabbed her jacket and headed back out to the car.

---

Sycamore Street looked peaceful in the morning light. Birds chirped somewhere in the trees as Y/N pulled up in front of the now very familiar house. She stepped out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. For a brief second she hesitated—then she knocked.

A few seconds passed. Footsteps approached. Then finally the door opened.

“Hey, Liz! Sorry I forgot my phone here last night and—” The words died in Y/N’s throat.

A man stood in the doorway.

Y/N froze immediately.

He looked just as surprised to see her. Tall. Well-dressed. Early thirties, maybe. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in Hollywood circles.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then the man tilted his head slightly. “Uh… may I help you?”

Y/N straightened instinctively. “I was looking for Lizzie. Is she home?”

The man nodded casually. “She’s in the shower.”

Something in Y/N’s chest tightened slightly.

She kept her face neutral. “I left my phone here last night.”

“Oh.” The man glanced briefly over his shoulder into the house. “Alright. I’ll grab it.” He stepped back and closed the door.

Y/N stood there on the porch. Waiting.

The quiet morning suddenly felt heavier than it had a few minutes ago.

After a couple minutes, the door opened again. The man stood there holding her phone. He handed it to her. “Here you go.”

Y/N took it slowly. “Thanks.” 

The man gave a polite nod. “No problem.” Then—He closed the door. Right in her face.

Y/N stood there for a moment, staring at the door. Her jaw tightened slightly. Inside her chest, something unfamiliar twisted. Not anger. Not exactly. Something closer to confusion. Maybe even disappointment.

After a few seconds, she exhaled quietly and slipped the phone into her pocket, then turned and walked back to her car. As she drove away from Sycamore Street—for the first time since meeting Elizabeth Olsen—Y/N realized she had no idea what she actually was to her.

---

Later That Day

The precinct locker room smelled faintly of detergent, metal, and the lingering exhaustion of a long shift. Y/N shut her locker with a dull metallic clang and sat down on the bench in front of it, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck.

It had been a long day. Paperwork. Patrol. A minor traffic accident. Two noise complaints that had nothing to do with Sycamore Street. Which, strangely enough, had bothered her more than she expected.

She finished changing out of her uniform and into her normal clothes—dark jeans, boots, and a loose gray shirt. Her badge and gun rested on the bench beside her while she organized her things back into her bag.

Her phone buzzed. The vibration echoed slightly in the quiet locker room.

Y/N glanced down. The name on the screen made her chest tighten.

Lizzie.

She stared at it for a moment. Then she let out a quiet sigh and locked the screen without opening the message.

Across the bench, one of her coworkers—Marcus—noticed immediately. He leaned back against his locker with a grin. “Problem in paradise?”

Y/N slid the phone into her pocket. “Don’t start.”

Marcus raised both hands innocently. “I’m just asking.” He nodded toward her pocket. “That the actress again?”

Y/N grabbed her jacket. “Drop it.”

Marcus smirked. “Ah. So it is.”

Y/N shot him a look.

Marcus laughed. “Okay, okay. Relax.” He grabbed his own bag but couldn’t resist adding— “Still… if Elizabeth Olsen is texting you and you look that annoyed about it, something interesting definitely happened.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead she reached into her pocket and pulled the phone out again.

The screen lit up.

Lizzie: Is your shift over?

Y/N stared at the message for a moment. Earlier that day Lizzie had already texted her.

Can you come over tonight?

Y/N had replied shortly and simply.

Busy. Can’t.

At the time she hadn’t trusted herself to say anything else. Now the phone felt heavier in her hand.

Marcus noticed immediately. “Well?” he asked, leaning against the hallway wall as officers passed by them.

Y/N exhaled slowly through her nose. “She’s asking if my shift is over.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty harmless.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Marcus studied her face for a second. “Okay… what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Marcus crossed his arms. “That is definitely not a ‘nothing’ face.”

Y/N locked the phone and shoved it back into her pocket. “Drop it.”

Marcus tilted his head. “Did you two fight or something?”

“No.”

“Did she ghost you?”

“No.”

Marcus frowned slightly. “Then what?”

Y/N stopped walking. For a moment she looked like she might say something. Then she just shook her head. “Forget it.”

Marcus squinted at her. “You’re acting like someone kicked your puppy.”

Y/N scoffed quietly.

“Relax.” Marcus leaned closer. “Did you find out she’s seeing someone else?”

The words landed a little too close. Y/N’s jaw tightened for half a second.

Marcus noticed instantly.

“Oh.”

He straightened slightly.

“Oh.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You done?”

Marcus lifted both hands. “Hey, I’m just connecting dots.”

Y/N started walking toward the exit again.

Marcus followed. “So… what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not gonna ask her about it?”

“No.”

Marcus laughed. “You’re terrible at this.”

“At what?”

“Communication.” Y/N pushed open the precinct door and stepped outside into the evening air.

Marcus stepped out beside her. “So the plan is just… pretend it doesn’t bother you?”

Y/N leaned against the side of her car. “It doesn’t.”

Marcus stared at her. “Sure.”

Her phone buzzed again.

Marcus pointed at her pocket immediately. “There it is.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment. Then she pulled the phone out again. The screen lit up.

Lizzie: I wanted to see you tonight.

Marcus leaned slightly, trying to peek.

Y/N turned the screen away instantly.

Marcus groaned. “Rude.”

Y/N stared at the message. Something complicated twisted in her chest.

Marcus waited. “So?” he asked.

Y/N locked the phone again. “I told her I was busy.”

Marcus blinked. “You’re seriously not answering that?”

Y/N opened her car door.

Marcus leaned on the roof. “You realize ignoring people usually makes things worse, right?”

Y/N paused. For just a second. Then she slid into the driver’s seat.

Marcus knocked lightly on the window before she closed the door. “You like her,” he said through the glass.

Y/N didn’t answer.

Marcus grinned. “Oh you definitely like her.”

Y/N started the engine.

Marcus stepped back from the car. As she pulled out of the lot—Her phone buzzed again in the passenger seat.

As Y/N drove, the phone continued to buzz on the passenger seat. She kept her eyes on the road for a moment, jaw tight, fingers drumming once against the steering wheel before she finally glanced down at the screen during a red light.

Another message.

Lizzie: Did I do something?

Y/N stared at the words.

The light turned green. She drove another block before pulling into a quiet parking lot across from a closed café. The engine idled as the city moved around her.

Her phone buzzed again.

Lizzie: You’ve been acting weird since this morning.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her thumb hovering over the screen. For a second she considered just ignoring it again. But that would only make it worse. With a quiet sigh, she typed back.

Y/N: Just stuck at work.

The typing bubbles appeared almost immediately.

Lizzie: Your shift isn’t supposed to be this long.

Y/N leaned back in the driver’s seat, staring at the dashboard as the engine hummed quietly.

Y/N: Things came up.

Another pause. Then—

Lizzie: Are you sure that’s all it is?

Y/N rubbed her temple with one hand. She could almost hear Lizzie’s voice in her head saying it. Soft. Curious. A little suspicious.

Y/N: Yeah.

The reply came slower this time.

Lizzie: You’re a terrible liar.

Y/N huffed quietly under her breath. Her fingers hovered over the screen again. Before she could respond—Another message popped up.

Lizzie: Did something happen this morning?

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. For a moment she didn’t type anything. Instead she locked the screen and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. The car was silent except for the faint ticking of the engine. She stared through the windshield for a long moment. Then, the phone buzzed again beside her.

Y/N glanced at it but didn’t pick it up right away. She knew who it was. After a few seconds, she finally grabbed the phone and unlocked the screen. Another message from Lizzie.

Lizzie: Y/N… talk to me.

Y/N stared at the words, her jaw tightening slightly. For someone who spent most of her job questioning people, she suddenly had no idea what to say. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Finally she typed.

Y/N: I told you. I’m at work.

The reply came almost instantly.

Lizzie: You’re not.

Y/N frowned slightly. Another message appeared.

Lizzie: Your friend told me your shift was over.

Y/N blinked.

Marcus.

It had to be Marcus. Her phone buzzed again.

Lizzie: You’re avoiding me.

Y/N leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes for a second. She typed slowly this time.

Y/N: Not avoiding you.

Three dots appeared again almost immediately.

Lizzie: Then come over.

Y/N opened her eyes and stared at the message. Outside the windshield, the evening traffic moved steadily down the street. Her fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel.

The phone buzzed again.

Lizzie: Please.

That word landed differently. Y/N stared at the screen for a long moment, the soft glow lighting up the inside of the car. Her jaw tightened slightly as she leaned back against the seat. She could ignore it. It would be easier.

Cleaner.

But the truth was… she already knew she wasn’t going to. Y/N let out a quiet sigh and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat.

“Damn it.”

She started the engine. The car pulled out of the parking lot and merged into the evening traffic, city lights flickering across the windshield as she drove.

The route to Sycamore Street was familiar now. Too familiar. Every stoplight felt longer than usual. Every slow driver in front of her made her grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Her mind kept replaying the morning. The door opening. The man standing there.

Y/N exhaled sharply through her nose and pushed the thought away.

Ten minutes later she turned down the quiet street. Lizzie’s house sat exactly the same as always—warm light glowing through the windows, the porch light casting a soft halo over the front steps.

Y/N parked at the curb and sat there for a second. Her phone buzzed again. She didn’t even need to check. Another sigh left her as she opened the car door and stepped out. The night air was cool against her skin as she walked up the familiar path. This time she knocked.

A few seconds passed. Footsteps approached from inside. The door opened and Lizzie stood there. Barefoot. Hair loose around her shoulders. Wearing an oversized sweater that looked suspiciously like one of Y/N’s.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Lizzie studied her face carefully.

“You came.”

Y/N crossed her arms lightly.

“You said please.”

Lizzie’s lips twitched faintly at that. “Yeah.”

Another small silence stretched between them.

Then Lizzie stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in.”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before walking inside. The door closed quietly behind her.

Lizzie turned to face her again. “So…” she said gently. “You gonna tell me what’s actually going on?”

Y/N looked at her for a moment. Then she said flatly—“I came by this morning.”

Lizzie blinked. And then—realization hit her face all at once.

“I came to get my phone that I forgot…” Y/N continue. “…and you had a guy over.” Y/N looked at her for a long moment. Then she ran a hand through her hair and looked away toward the living room instead of Lizzie.

“I know I don’t really have a right to say anything,” she started, her voice lower than usual.

Lizzie stayed quiet.

Y/N continued, words coming slower now. “We never talked about it. About… whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely between them. “So you can see whoever you want. That’s not supposed to be my business.”

Lizzie’s expression softened slightly, but she still didn’t interrupt.

Y/N exhaled slowly. “And I know what this probably looks like from your side,” she went on. “We hook up. We have fun. That’s probably all it is.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re probably thinking I’m stupid for catching feelings over something like that.”

Lizzie’s brows pulled together immediately. “Y/N—”

But Y/N kept talking, like if she stopped now she wouldn’t finish. “I walked up to your house this morning thinking…” she shook her head slightly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Her jaw tightened a little.

“Then some guy opens the door and tells me you’re in the shower.”

A small silence filled the room.

Y/N finally looked back at Lizzie. “So yeah,” she said quietly. “That threw me off a little.”

Lizzie stared at her for a moment. Then she let out a breath. “First of all,” she said, stepping closer, “you’re not stupid.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

Lizzie folded her arms loosely. “And second… that guy was my publicist.”

Y/N blinked.

“My publicist,” Lizzie repeated. “He came over early because we had to go over press stuff for a project.”

Y/N studied her face, trying to read whether she was joking.

Lizzie gave a small, incredulous laugh. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You got jealous.”

Y/N scoffed automatically. “I didn’t—”

“You absolutely did,” Lizzie said, though her tone wasn’t mocking. If anything, it sounded… a little pleased.

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck again. “That’s not the point.”

Lizzie tilted her head slightly.

“Then what is?”

Y/N hesitated. “The point is… I didn’t expect it to bother me.”

Lizzie watched her carefully.

“And now?”

Y/N met her eyes again. “…Now I know it does.”

For a second the room was completely quiet. Then Lizzie took another step closer. Close enough that Y/N could see the faint smile tugging at her lips. 

“Well,” Lizzie said softly. “That’s interesting.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How is that interesting?”

Lizzie shrugged slightly. “Because I thought I was the only one catching feelings.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “You?”

Lizzie gave a small, almost shy shrug. “Yeah. Me.”

Y/N looked genuinely confused now.

Lizzie leaned back against the edge of the table behind her, crossing her arms loosely as she watched Y/N process that. “You think I’ve been inviting you over every chance I get just because the sex is good?” Lizzie asked.

Y/N opened her mouth—then closed it again.

Lizzie laughed softly. “Okay, don’t answer that.”

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck again, suddenly looking less like the confident officer and more like someone who’d just realized she’d misread the entire situation. “I just assumed…” she muttered.

“That I do this with everyone?” Lizzie finished.

Y/N immediately shook her head. “No… of course not,” she said quickly. She looked down for a second, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. “I just… I just…” she exhaled softly. “I don’t know.”

Lizzie waited.

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck again, clearly uncomfortable now. “You’re famous,” she said finally. “You can date anyone you want.” She gestured vaguely toward Lizzie. “Actors. Models. Directors. Whoever.”

A small, awkward shrug followed. “I didn’t think you’d actually be interested in someone like me.”

Lizzie blinked at her. “Someone like you?”

Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”

Lizzie stared at her for a moment like she was trying to process what she’d just heard. Then she pushed herself off the table and stepped closer again. “Okay,” she said slowly. “We need to unpack that sentence.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “What sentence?”

“The one where you somehow decided you’re not interesting enough for me.”

Y/N scoffed quietly. “I didn’t say that.”

Lizzie pointed a finger at her. “You absolutely implied it.”

Y/N opened her mouth—then stopped.

Lizzie folded her arms. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re a almost six-foot tall, police officer who literally walked into my house during a noise complaint and somehow managed to flirt with me while telling me to behave.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I did not—”

“You did,” Lizzie cut in. A small smile crept onto her face. “And then you showed up at a convention looking like you stepped out of some ‘hot cop’ fantasy and acted like you weren’t aware of it.”

Y/N looked mildly offended now.

“I was working.”

Lizzie ignored that.

“And then,” she continued, stepping even closer, “you danced with me at a club and had me leaving with you in a cab ten minutes later.”

Y/N coughed lightly.

Lizzie tilted her head. “And somehow you think I wouldn’t be interested in you?”

Y/N shifted her weight slightly. “When you say it like that…”

Lizzie leaned forward just enough that their faces were close again.

“I’m saying it exactly like that.”

Y/N studied her for a moment. Then she muttered quietly, “…You could still do better.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh really?”

Y/N shrugged.

Lizzie reached up and grabbed the front of Y/N’s shirt again, pulling her closer until they were almost chest to chest. “Listen carefully, Officer Y/F/N,” she said softly.

“I’m the one who gets to decide who I want.”

Y/N held her gaze.

“And right now,” Lizzie continued, “that person is you.” A small silence settled between them.

Then Lizzie smirked slightly. “Also… for the record?”

Y/N raised a brow.

“You’re ridiculously attractive.”

Y/N let out a quiet huff of amusement to hide her smile.

“Good to know.”

Lizzie smiled. “Very.”

Y/N shifted slightly, clearly gathering the courage to say something. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck again—a habit Lizzie was starting to recognize whenever she was nervous.

“So…” Y/N began.

Lizzie watched her with quiet curiosity.

“If I asked you on a real date…” Y/N said slowly. “Wi—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Lizzie reached up, pulling Y/N down into a kiss.

The words disappeared against Lizzie’s lips. For a second Y/N froze in surprise, then immediately kissed her back.

Lizzie pulled away just barely—close enough that their noses brushed—her lips still hovering against Y/N’s.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Y/N blinked.

“You didn’t even let me finish the question.”

Lizzie smiled, still holding onto her shirt. “You were going to ask me on a real date.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“That confident, huh?”

Lizzie nodded once.

“Very.”

Y/N chuckled softly under her breath. “Alright then.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “Alright what?”

Y/N slipped one arm around Lizzie’s waist, pulling her a little closer.

“Friday night,” she said. “Dinner.”

Lizzie pretended to think about it. “Hmm.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Don’t start.”

Lizzie grinned. “I’m a very busy actress, Officer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I might need convincing.”

Y/N leaned down slightly, her voice lowering just enough to make Lizzie shiver. “Dinner,” she repeated. “No disturbances.”

Lizzie smirked. “That sounds suspiciously boring.”

Y/N shrugged. “You asked for a real date.”

Lizzie looked at her for a moment. Then she leaned in again and kissed her—slower this time. 

When she pulled back, she smiled. “Friday night,” she agreed. “But I’m picking the place.”

Y/N nodded. “Deal.”

Lizzie studied her face for a moment before teasing. “You know,” she said softly, stepping closer again, “for someone who acts so confident on the street… you’re surprisingly shy when it comes to this.”

Y/N scoffed lightly. “I’m not shy.”

Lizzie raised a brow. “Really?”

Before Y/N could answer, Lizzie grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the hallway. “Hey—” Y/N laughed quietly, letting herself be dragged along. “Where are we going?”

Lizzie glanced back over her shoulder, her smile mischievous. “Well,” she said, “you did just come straight from work.”

Y/N frowned slightly.

“And?”

“And you probably smell like the inside of a patrol car.”

Y/N looked offended. “I do not.”

Lizzie laughed. “Relax, Officer.” She tugged Y/N a little farther down the hall toward the stairs. “Why don’t you take a shower,” Lizzie said, her tone softer now. “And then come to bed.”

Y/N stopped halfway up the stairs, raising an eyebrow at her. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re trying to skip the whole ‘date’ thing.”

Lizzie stepped up one stair so they were nearly face to face. Her fingers slid into the front of Y/N’s shirt again. “Friday is the date,” she said quietly. Then she leaned up, brushing a quick kiss against Y/N’s lips. “Tonight,” she added with a small smile, “you’re just staying over.”

Y/N studied her for a second. Then a small smirk tugged at her mouth. “Bossy.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Confident.”

Y/N shook her head slightly but let Lizzie pull her the rest of the way upstairs.

At the top of the stairs, Lizzie pointed toward the bathroom. “Shower,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am” Y/N smile.

---

A little while later, the bathroom door opened. Steam drifted softly into the hallway as Y/N stepped out, drying her hair with a towel. She had changed into the only clean things she could find in her bag—just a pair of dark boxers and a black sports bra. Comfortable. Casual.

Very much not trying to impress anyone.

“Hey, Liz,” Y/N called as she walked toward the bedroom. “Do you know where the shirt I left the other night is? The gray one?”

She stepped into the room. And stopped.

Lizzie was sitting on the bed, legs folded under her, flipping lazily through a script. But she wasn’t wearing her sweater anymore. Instead—she was wearing Y/N’s gray shirt.

The one Y/N had just asked about.

The sleeves hung a little long on her arms, the fabric loose and soft against her frame, clearly much bigger on her than it had been on Y/N.

Lizzie looked up slowly. A small, guilty smile tugged at her lips. “Oh,” she said casually. “This one?”

Y/N stared at her for a second. “…You stole my shirt.”

Lizzie glanced down at herself as if noticing it for the first time. “Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “I guess I did.”

Y/N crossed her arms, trying very hard not to smile. “You were supposed to give that back.”

Lizzie shrugged lightly, completely unapologetic. “It’s comfortable.”

“It’s mine.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “You weren’t using it.”

Y/N shook her head, walking a little closer. “That’s not the point.”

Lizzie closed the script and set it aside, watching Y/N approach. “You want it back?”

Y/N stopped at the edge of the bed.

“Yes.”

Lizzie hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm.” She leaned back slightly on her hands. “But I kind of like it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re unbelievable.”

Lizzie grinned. “Or,” she said slowly, “you could just come to bed and remove it from me.”

Y/N tried to maintain a serious expression. It lasted about two seconds. Then she huffed out a quiet laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Lizzie patted the mattress beside her. “Come here.”

Y/N climbed onto the bed beside her, shaking her head. As she settled in, Lizzie leaned slightly against her shoulder, the oversized shirt shifting softly with the movement. Y/N glanced down at it. “…You’re definitely keeping that, aren’t you?”

Lizzie smiled sleepily. “Probably.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “I’m never getting that shirt back.”

Lizzie looked up at her. “Nope.”

Then she added, softer this time—“It’s mine now, just like it’s owner.”

---

She glanced toward the hallway. It was unusually quiet. Usually, when Y/N wasn’t by her side, she could hear faint traces of music or humming coming from their studio.

“Probably writing again,” Lizzie murmured with a small smile, imagining her wife hunched over her notebook or strumming her guitar. She padded barefoot toward the studio, already picturing herself sneaking up and wrapping her arms around Y/N from behind.

But when she pushed the door open… the room was empty.

Lizzie frowned. No papers scattered, no lingering scent of coffee. She stepped inside, glanced around—nothing.

Her brow furrowed. “Babe?” she called softly, moving through the house. Kitchen? Empty. Backyard? Still. Bathroom? Quiet.

It wasn’t until she turned the corner to their bedroom that she froze.

There, sitting on the edge of the bed, Y/N’s eyes dark and locked on the glowing phone screen in her hand. Her breathing was unsteady, her free hand moving around her hard, swollen length with slow, hungry strokes.

Lizzie’s breath caught. Y/N’s gaze on the screen was ravenous, almost desperate—like she couldn’t look away.

Then Y/N looked up—freezing the moment she saw Lizzie in the doorway. The hunger in her eyes faltered into panic. In a quick, almost guilty motion, she shoved the phone aside and yanked a pillow over her lap. “Liz— I—”

Lizzie stepped in, her voice tight. “Seriously? You disappear for half an hour, and this is what you’re doing?” Her eyes flicked to the phone. “Who was it? Some naked model? Or did you find something better than your wife?”

Y/N’s face flushed as she shook her head. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” Lizzie crossed her arms, a mix of hurt and irritation in her tone. “Because from where I was standing, it looked exactly like that.”

Y/N swallowed hard, struggling to find words. “It was nothing—just… nothing.” She kept her voice low, avoiding her wife’s eyes.

Lizzie’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking toward the phone lying face down on the bedspread.

“Nothing?” she repeated sharply. “You call getting off to naked bitches nothing?”

Y/N’s grip on the pillow tightened. “Lizzie, it’s not—”

But Lizzie moved, quick and determined, reaching for the phone.

Y/N reacted instantly, blocking her with her arm, trying to keep the pillow in place. The sudden movement made the pillow slip—and Lizzie’s eyes caught on the hard, flushed length straining against Y/N’s skin.

Her stomach twisted, irritation flaring hotter. God, she’s this worked up over someone else?

“Move,” Lizzie snapped, lunging for the phone again.

“No—” Y/N’s voice was strained, but Lizzie was already climbing onto the bed, both of them grabbing for the device, their bodies pressed close in the scuffle. The pillow slid completely away, leaving Y/N fully exposed, her length throbbing between them.

The sight only made Lizzie’s chest tighten more—with anger, confusion, and a heat she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Who the hell is worth this, huh?” she bit out, fingers finally yanking the phone from Y/N’s grasp.

Breathing hard, she turned the screen toward herself—ready to see a stranger.

But what stared back at her was… her.

Not just one picture—dozens. Selfies she’d sent Y/N, candid shots Y/N had taken in bed, red carpet appearances… and then she scrolled down.

The tone shifted. There were videos of her writhing under Y/N’s touch, moaning Y/N’s name. One of her on her knees in their bathroom, lips wrapped around Y/N’s length, looking up with glassy eyes. Another—shakier, filmed by Y/N herself—of Lizzie lying naked on the bed, fingers spreading herself open while she teased, “Come here, baby…”

Lizzie’s breath hitched, heat flooding her cheeks and curling low in her stomach. “You… were looking at me?”

Y/N’s chest rose and fell fast. “Of course it’s you…Always you,” she said, voice low and raw, her cheeks bright red. “Only you. You’re the reason I’m this hard.”

Lizzie’s irritation melted into something far more dangerous as her gaze flicked down to that hardness again—still standing, still aching for her. Her tongue slid over her lower lip before she muttered, “You really are an idiot…” and tossed the phone aside.

But Lizzie’s irritation hadn’t fully left—if anything, it sharpened into something more possessive. Her gaze lingered on Y/N’s flushed, aching length, then flicked back up to her eyes.

“Tell me something,” Lizzie said slowly, her voice low but edged. “Why the hell were you sitting here looking at pictures and videos… when the real thing is right here at home with you?”

Y/N’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Because…” she hesitated, cheeks burning. “Because I missed you today. I wanted you so bad I couldn’t wait. And looking at you—hearing you in those videos—it’s the only thing that gets me like this.”

Lizzie arched a brow, stepping closer until her knee pressed into the bed between Y/N’s legs. “So you thought you’d just sit here and take care of it yourself instead of coming to find me?”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting…”

A slow, dangerous smile curved Lizzie’s lips. “Baby, interrupt me next time.” Her eyes swept down again, heat in every inch of her gaze. “Because if you want me hard enough to watch those videos… you’re damn well going to have me for real.”

Lizzie shook her head, still half annoyed even as the heat between them grew thick. “You know what was going through my head when I walked in here?” she said, her voice tight but low.

Before Y/N could answer, Lizzie climbed onto the bed, straddling her lap in one smooth motion. Y/N’s breath caught as her bare thighs framed her hips, that perfect weight settling right over her aching length.

“I thought you were watching some random girl,” Lizzie continued, leaning in close, her hands braced on either side of Y/N’s shoulders. “I thought you were getting this—” she shifted her hips just enough to make Y/N groan “—for someone who isn’t me.”

Y/N shook her head quickly, her hands instinctively gripping Lizzie’s waist. “Never,” she said, the word almost a growl. “It’s always you.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her lips curved in something between a smirk and a pout. “You have no idea how close I was to ripping that phone out of your hand and throwing it across the room.”

“You kind of did,” Y/N muttered with a half-smile.

Lizzie gave her a look, then ground down just enough to make Y/N’s jaw clench. She stayed perched on Y/N’s lap, the weight of her pressing down on that aching hardness. Her hands slid slowly from the bed to Y/N’s shoulders, nails grazing just enough to make her shiver.

“You sit here,” Lizzie murmured, her breath warm against Y/N’s ear, “looking at me on a screen… when you could have had me like this.”

She rolled her hips in a slow, deliberate circle making Y/N’s groan lowly.

“That’s why you’re an idiot,” Lizzie continued, her voice dipping into a husky scold. “Because while you were busy jerking off to me… I could’ve been the one touching you. I could’ve been the one making you this hard.”

Her hands slid down, gripping Y/N’s wrists and guiding them to her own hips. “Feel that? That’s what you should’ve been holding onto instead of a pillow.”

Y/N’s breathing grew heavier. “Lizzie…”

“Mm?” she hummed, brushing her lips against Y/N’s jaw but not kissing her.

“I want you.”

Lizzie pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, her smirk wicked. “Good. Because you’re going to get me—exactly the way I want.”

Without another word, she rocked her hips again, this time harder, dragging herself along the length straining against her. Her fingers curled into Y/N’s hair, tilting her head back so she could finally claim her mouth in a hot, claiming kiss.

And in the back of Y/N’s mind, the thought was clear—this wasn’t just Lizzie giving in to the heat. This was Lizzie proving a point.

Lizzie stayed straddling Y/N’s lap, fully clothed, letting her weight press down just enough to make Y/N squirm. Her hands rested on Y/N’s shoulders, tilting her slightly back, keeping her completely under her control.

“You really thought you could hide that from me?” Lizzie murmured, her voice low and teasing as her hips rocked slowly against Y/N’s aching length. “You’re straining for me, baby. And you were worried I wouldn’t notice?”

Y/N groaned, hands gripping Lizzie’s hips instinctively. “I… I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?” Lizzie cut her off, leaning close, letting her lips brush the shell of Y/N’s ear. “You didn’t think I’d see how hard you are for me? How desperate you get?”

The friction was maddening. Y/N’s legs trembled, hips pressing against Lizzie without permission, every nerve on fire. Lizzie’s hands moved down slowly, teasingly, pressing just enough to remind Y/N who was in charge—but not touching directly.

“Look at you,” Lizzie whispered, smirk curling her lips. “All this for me… and you were trying to hide it with a pillow.” She rolled her hips again, grinding against Y/N’s hardness, eliciting a sharp hiss.

Y/N’s hands curled into fists on Lizzie’s hips, trying to steady herself, but Lizzie’s smirk only widened. 

Y/N tried to shift, to grab Lizzie’s hips and pull her closer, desperate to take back some control. “Lizzie… I—” she gasped, voice thick with need.

Lizzie’s eyes flashed with warning, a wicked smirk curling her lips. She pressed down just a little harder, rocking against Y/N’s hardness in slow, deliberate circles. “Nope,” she said firmly, her voice low and commanding. “Not today, baby. I’m in control.”

Y/N’s hands froze mid-motion, her body tense under Lizzie’s weight.

“Every twitch, every shiver, every groan?” Lizzie continued, leaning close so her lips hovered just inches from Y/N’s ear. “That’s mine. And if you want to cum…” She let the words trail off, teasing, letting the anticipation choke Y/N. “…you need to behave. You need to listen. You need to wait for me.”

Y/N whimpered, chest rising and falling, hips pressing up helplessly against Lizzie. “Please… Lizzie…”

Lizzie chuckled softly, grinding just a little harder, letting the friction burn against Y/N. “Patience, baby. You’ve been naughty, hiding behind that pillow. Today, you earn it. And right now, you’re earning it my way.”

Y/N’s body shook, trembling under Lizzie’s control, utterly at her mercy—and completely addicted to it.

Lizzie’s smirk deepened as she watched Y/N squirm beneath her. “You’re too good at this,” she murmured, voice low and teasing.

With deliberate slowness, she lifted her hands to the hem of her top, tugging it over her head and letting it fall onto the floor. Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath hitching at the sight of Lizzie’s bare chest—perky and flawless, nipples already hard from the teasing friction.

Lizzie’s hands returned to Y/N’s shoulders, keeping her pinned. “See?” she whispered, leaning close enough that her lips brushed Y/N’s temple. “You think you’re in control, but look at you… trembling under me. And I’m barely even started.”

Y/N groaned, hands twitching toward Lizzie’s waist, hips pressing against her own hardness, desperate for more contact.

“Not yet,” Lizzie said firmly, grinding a little slower this time, letting the friction build, letting every shiver Y/N made remind her who was in control. “I said you behave if you want to cum. And right now… I decide when.”

Y/N’s chest heaved, trembling under Lizzie’s weight, completely at her mercy. The sight of Lizzie’s bare skin, combined with the teasing pressure against her hardness, made her whine softly, almost helplessly.

Lizzie leaned close, pressing her lips softly against Y/N’s jawline, tracing slow, heated kisses down her neck. Y/N shivered, hands instinctively moving up Lizzie’s body, but Lizzie’s firm grip held her in place.

With a low, teasing hum, Lizzie tugged at Y/N’s shirt, peeling it off over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit Y/N’s bare chest, and her toned abs flexed as Lizzie’s eyes roamed hungrily.

Lizzie’s hands were immediately on Y/N’s body—palms sliding over her abs, cupping her breasts with reverent heat. Her thumbs brushed lightly over the hardened peaks, teasing, while her lips followed suit, pressing to one nipple, then the other, her breath hot and teasing.

All the while, Lizzie’s hips continued to grind slowly against Y/N’s length, careful but deliberate, sending sharp jolts of pleasure up Y/N’s spine. Every tilt, every brush of her against Y/N’s hardness made Y/N whine, trembling under Lizzie’s control.

“You feel that?” Lizzie whispered, voice husky. “This is what you’ve been aching for… and you’re going to take it, the way I want.”

Y/N’s hands clenched at Lizzie’s waist, trying again to pull her closer, but Lizzie’s firm hold and teasing movements kept her pinned and helpless—completely at Lizzie’s mercy.

Lizzie’s hands lingered on Y/N’s chest, cupping and rolling her breasts between her palms, teasing the hardened peaks with slow, deliberate pressure. She let her lips hover, brushing just over Y/N’s nipples without fully latching on, making Y/N gasp and squirm beneath her.

“God, you’re so sensitive,” Lizzie murmured, her fingers tracing circles around the peaks, pinching lightly every now and then. “Look at you… twitching under my hands.”

Y/N’s hips bucked slightly against Lizzie’s, the friction from her grinding sending sharp jolts of pleasure up her spine. She tried to tilt her head back, to catch Lizzie’s lips in a kiss, but Lizzie pressed a finger gently to her lips, silencing her with a smirk.

“Not yet, baby,” Lizzie whispered, voice low and teasing. “I said I’m in control today. You want to cum? You wait. You behave.”

Her hands continued to toy with Y/N’s breasts, rolling, squeezing, teasing, sometimes brushing just over the nipples with her lips in passing, each soft flick sending shivers down Y/N’s spine. Y/N’s moans grew louder, desperate, but Lizzie only smiled against her skin, enjoying the helpless sound she was drawing out.

Every second was slow, deliberate, and maddening. Y/N’s chest heaved, her fingers clawing at Lizzie’s hips, but Lizzie held her firmly in place, her grinding slow and controlling, every touch a reminder of who owned her completely.

Lizzie finally pulled back, letting Y/N catch her breath, her lips still tingling from the earlier teasing. She slowly stood, hips swaying just enough to make Y/N whimper beneath her, still fully exposed and straining.

She knelt in front of Y/N, her hands reaching for the waistband of Y/N’s boxers and shorts that were already halfway down. With a slow, deliberate tug, she slid them the rest of the way down Y/N’s legs, letting them pool around her ankles. Her eyes flicked up, ignoring Y/N’s hardness for the moment, letting the teasing build. But she could see it twitching wanting attention. 

Lizzie bit her lips with the sight before slowly standing up again. Her top was already gone, bra long discarded—her bare chest glistening slightly in the room’s light. She reached behind her, sliding her shorts down over her hips, then bent just enough to peel off her underwear, letting it drop to the floor.

Y/N’s breath hitched, eyes glued to Lizzie’s lithe, flawless body. Lizzie swayed her hips, tracing imaginary lines over her own skin with slow, teasing movements, letting Y/N take in every inch of her without actually touching.

“Look at you,” Lizzie murmured, voice low and sultry, eyes flicking down to Y/N’s cock. “Straining, desperate, and all mine to watch… and I get to put on a show just for you.”

Y/N’s hands twitched, itching to reach for her, but Lizzie’s smirk was a silent warning: Not yet. Watch me. Wait.

Lizzie dropped to her knees in front of Y/N, then, with a teasing smirk, settled back onto her lap—this time fully naked. Her bare heat pressed directly against Y/N’s hardness, slick and wet, and Y/N gasped, hips bucking instinctively.

“You feel that?” Lizzie whispered, rocking her hips slowly at first, letting Y/N feel every wet, tight brush. “All this… just for me.”

Y/N’s hands moved to Lizzie’s hips, trying to tilt her closer, but Lizzie held firm, controlling the rhythm. Each grind sent jolts of pleasure straight through Y/N, making her groan, head falling back against the pillows.

“Lizzie…” Y/N moaned, voice strained, desperate, every nerve on fire.

“I know, baby,” Lizzie murmured, leaning forward to press her lips to Y/N’s neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “I want you to feel it. Every inch of you, pressed into me. You belong to me today.”

Y/N’s fingers clenched at Lizzie’s hips, hips bucking upward, but Lizzie kept the pace slow, teasing, controlling, making Y/N squirm helplessly. The slick friction, the weight of her body, the heat of her skin—everything drove Y/N closer and closer to the edge.

Her groans grew louder, desperate, as Lizzie’s hips ground harder, her wetness coating Y/N, each movement drawing a raw, needy sound from deep in Y/N’s chest.

Lizzie leaned forward, pressing her lips to Y/N’s in a slow, heated kiss, tongue brushing teasingly against hers. Her fingers gripped Y/N’s shoulders firmly as she continued to grind, the slick warmth of her bare pussy pressing perfectly against Y/N’s hardness.

Y/N groaned into the kiss, hands tangling in Lizzie’s hair, hips bucking instinctively, desperate for more contact.

Lizzie smirked against Y/N’s lips, pulling back just slightly, letting the tip of Y/N’s length slip in and out of her slick folds teasingly. “Mm… you like that, don’t you?” she murmured against Y/N’s mouth, tongue flicking out to taste her again.

Y/N could only whine, grinding up into her wife, every movement sending jolts of pleasure through her. “Lizzie… please…” she gasped, voice strained, desperate.

Lizzie pulled back for a second, looking down at her trembling, needy wife. “Not yet, baby. You’re mine to tease today,” she whispered, letting her hips roll slowly again, tip sliding in and out with torturous slowness.

Y/N’s back arched, head falling back against the pillows, helpless under Lizzie’s control, every slick grind and teasing slip pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Lizzie’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile as she felt Y/N squirm beneath her, completely exposed, completely needy. It was rare—so rare—for her to see her usually confident, strong wife like this, trembling and desperate under her control.

Her hands dug into Y/N’s hips, holding her firmly as she ground down, letting the tip slip teasingly in and out. Every whine, every gasp, every helpless groan made a heat flare inside Lizzie that had nothing to do with her own arousal.

“You’re… so needy for me,” Lizzie murmured, pressing her forehead to Y/N’s, lips brushing hers again in a hot, lingering kiss. “It’s… intoxicating. Seeing you like this… it’s all mine, baby. All yours for me to take.”

Y/N whimpered into the kiss, fingers clutching at Lizzie’s back, hips bucking involuntarily. “Lizzie… please…” she begged, voice shaky, breath ragged.

“Not yet,” Lizzie whispered, tilting her head to nibble along Y/N’s jawline. “You’re mine to tease, and seeing you this submissive… I could do this forever. Every gasp, every twitch… I love it.”

The realization that Y/N was utterly hers—completely at her mercy—sent a thrill coursing through Lizzie as she continued to grind slowly, every motion deliberate, savoring the rare sight of her usually dominant wife so helpless, so desperate, and so completely turned on by her.

Lizzie was mid–slow grind, savoring every shiver and groan, when the tip slid just a little deeper than before. Y/N’s breath hitched—then instinct took over.

With a sudden, desperate thrust upward, Y/N buried herself all the way inside, a guttural moan tearing from her throat as her head fell back.

Lizzie gasped, her nails digging into Y/N’s shoulders as the sudden stretch stole her breath. Her body trembled around Y/N’s length, but her glare quickly returned—half-lust, half-warning.

“Impatient,” she hissed, though her voice shook with pleasure. She clenched around Y/N deliberately, letting the sensation ripple through them both. “Couldn’t behave for five more seconds, could you?”

Y/N’s hands gripped Lizzie’s hips tightly, chest rising and falling as if she was already at her limit. “I—I couldn’t… you feel so—”

Lizzie cut her off with a hard, hungry kiss, grinding down until she took every inch again, the wet heat of her body swallowing Y/N whole. “Fine,” she murmured against her lips, “you wanted all of me? Then you’re going to take it. Every. Last. Inch.”

She rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, dragging out the first deep strokes so Y/N felt every pulse, every clench—her control now a dangerous mix of punishment and reward.

Lizzie braced her hands on Y/N’s chest, feeling the rapid thump of her wife’s heartbeat under her palms. Her hips began to move—slow at first, a taunting roll that had Y/N’s nails digging into the couch cushions just to keep from thrusting again.

“Hands,” Lizzie ordered, her tone low and dangerous. “Behind above your head.”

Y/N obeyed instantly, locking her fingers together, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she fought the urge to move. Lizzie’s smirk deepened—rarely did she get Y/N like this, flushed and compliant, every muscle tight with restraint.

Then she picked up the pace.

Her hips slammed down hard, the wet slap of skin meeting skin filling the room. Lizzie rode her in steady, punishing strokes—deep enough to make Y/N gasp with every thrust, slow enough to keep her begging for more speed.

“You thought,” Lizzie panted, leaning down until her lips brushed Y/N’s ear, “that you could sit here and touch yourself to me… without asking? Without me?”

Y/N whimpered, tilting her head back as Lizzie’s teeth grazed her neck. “I—Lizzie, please—”

“Not yet,” Lizzie cut in, rolling her hips in a tight circle that had Y/N groaning helplessly. “You don’t get to cum until I say.”

Her nails scraped lightly down Y/N’s abs, dragging over every tense muscle, before she reached lower to press firmly against the place where they were joined, feeling Y/N twitch inside her.

Y/N’s head tipped back, eyes fluttering closed as another deep roll of Lizzie’s hips made her see white.

“Eyes, baby,” Lizzie warned, her nails digging into Y/N’s chest. “Don’t make me remind you again.”

Y/N’s gaze snapped back up, pupils blown wide, lips parted as if she couldn’t breathe without her. Lizzie smirked, the power thrumming through her veins—this was hers. All of her.

She kept grinding, rocking her hips in a torturous rhythm that let Y/N feel every wet, tight slide but never quite enough speed to push her over. “You’re so deep…” Lizzie whispered, dragging her nails down to Y/N’s sides. “So hard… and you’re just sitting there like a good girl for me.”

Y/N groaned, thighs trembling from holding back. “Lizzie… please, I—”

“Not yet.” Lizzie’s tone was sharp enough to make Y/N swallow her words.

Then, without warning, she shifted—lifting herself almost all the way off until just the tip remained inside before slamming back down. The force pulled a broken sound from Y/N’s throat, her whole body jerking.

Again. And again. Each thrust had Lizzie’s breasts bouncing, her skin flushed, her mouth parting in a low moan. She leaned forward, kissing Y/N hard, swallowing her gasps.

“You wanna cum?” she breathed against Y/N’s lips, her hips still moving in deep, wet strokes.

“Yes—God, yes—” Y/N’s voice cracked.

Lizzie grinned wickedly. “Then do it looking at me.”

Her pace quickened, the wet sounds between them growing louder, her grip on Y/N’s shoulders bruising as she rode her without mercy. She didn’t stop until Y/N’s entire body tensed, that sharp cry tearing from her throat as she finally came hard inside her.

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before Lizzie shifted her hips, still seated snugly around her.

“Lizzie—” Y/N’s voice was shaky, her hands instinctively gripping Lizzie’s thighs. “I just—”

“I know,” Lizzie cut in smoothly, a slow, taunting roll of her hips making Y/N whimper at the overstimulation. “But I’m not done with you.”

Her smirk deepened when she felt Y/N twitch inside her, even in her sensitivity. “Mmm… look at you. All shaky and still hard for me.” She leaned down, kissing just under Y/N’s ear, her voice low and commanding. “You’re not going soft until I say so.”

Y/N gasped when Lizzie started riding her again—not fast, but deep, dragging every inch in and out with maddening control.

“Too much?” Lizzie teased, biting gently at Y/N’s jaw.

Y/N could only groan, head tipping back against the couch. “It’s—God—it’s so much…”

“Good,” Lizzie purred, nails dragging down Y/N’s abs before she braced her hands on Y/N’s shoulders, grinding harder. The wet, slick heat only grew, and with each movement, Lizzie’s own moans began to break through her dominance.

Y/N’s thighs trembled, her breath coming out in shallow pants. “Lizzie… I’m—”

“Not yet,” Lizzie ordered, tightening around her intentionally. “You’re gonna give me one more. And you’re gonna keep your eyes on me while you do it.”

She shifted into a relentless rhythm, her breasts bouncing, her hair falling in messy waves around her flushed face. Y/N was completely under her control, her body straining, hips jerking up helplessly into every thrust.

When Y/N finally broke—another deep, shuddering release tearing through her—Lizzie didn’t even slow down, grinding through it until her own orgasm hit, pulling a loud, breathless moan from her lips.

She collapsed forward against Y/N, both of them panting, skin slick and trembling… but the gleam in Lizzie’s eyes made it very clear—she wasn’t done for the night.

Lizzie was still catching her breath, forehead pressed to Y/N’s shoulder, when she heard that low, teasing murmur.

Y/N’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her close, still buried deep inside. “Damn it, babe… I didn’t know you’d get this jealous—about yourself.”

Lizzie let out a short laugh, muffled against Y/N’s skin, but when she lifted her head, there was still that spark of dominance in her eyes. “Oh, I wasn’t jealous,” she said, tracing her nails lightly down Y/N’s chest, making her shiver. “I was just… reminding you who you belong to.”

Her hips rolled slowly, making Y/N’s breath hitch again. “And I think…” she kissed Y/N’s jaw, then her lips, “…I got my point across.”

Y/N smirked, but her voice was hoarse. “Yeah… crystal clear.”

Lizzie’s lips curved into a satisfied smile as she settled back onto Y/N’s lap, still in full control. “Good. Because I’m not done proving it yet.”

She barely had time to gasp before Y/N’s hands gripped her thighs, flipping them onto the bed in one smooth, commanding motion.

Her back hit the sheets, and she looked up to see her wife looming over her, eyes dark and hungry, that teasing smirk replaced by something far more primal.

“No,” Y/N growled, bracing one hand beside Lizzie’s head while the other slid down her trembling body. “You had your fun…” She dipped her hips, grinding her still-hard length against Lizzie’s slick heat, making her moan. “…Now it’s my turn.”

Lizzie’s breath hitched, her earlier dominance cracking under the weight of Y/N’s sudden shift. “Y/N—”

“Shh.” Y/N’s lips crashed against hers in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing whatever protest she might have had. When she pulled back, her gaze was locked on Lizzie like a predator to prey. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ have you trembling under me.”

Her hands gripped Lizzie’s knees, spreading her wide, and Lizzie’s pulse spiked. “God, you’re trouble,” she whispered, but the way her hips lifted said she was more than ready for it.

You've been friends with Wanda for a little over three years now.

When she officially joined the Avengers, you were still elbow-deep in the impossible task of recruiting more witches for what was not-quite-yet a coven. Agatha refused to call it that - “a nosy vampire and three witches who had one joint spell session does not a coven make,” she'd scoffed.

She had a point. The so-called group was mostly chaos: Agatha and the girls argued every other day, Jen technically wasn’t doing magic anymore, and Lilia had a rather violent aversion to the concept of community, possibly because of the whole plague situation. Still, you were trying. Someone had to.

So when the new Avengers were announced and vampire networks started buzzing about humans playing gods again, it wasn’t just politics or prophecy that drew your attention. It was the unmistakable pulse of magic laced in Wanda’s powers, bright and wild and untrained.

The others warned you against mingling with the superhero crowd, especially dragging magic into mortal affairs. But as usual, you ignored them. You knocked on the Tower’s door anyway - literally - and extended an invitation to the witch who didn’t yet know she was one.

Wanda had resisted the label as much as your group had resisted hers. But something softened over time. Bit by bit, routine rooted itself in the quiet moments: delivering spellbooks to the Avengers Tower every week, practicing basics on quiet Sunday mornings, sharing rituals and stories passed down through your centuries-long memory.

You grew close. Agatha would tease - “maybe too close,” always with that knowing lilt - but you both pretended not to hear her.

Which is how you found yourself, for the fourth time this week, sprawled across Wanda’s bed like you belonged there, magical books open in a circle around you. One hand flipped a page absently while the other nursed a stolen blood bag (donation room, New York Hospital - nobody missed it).

You looked up just as the door creaked open. Wanda entered slowly, flushed from her last training session of the day. Hair tousled, breath caught halfway between a sigh and a laugh, she offered you a soft, worn-out smile.

“I guess you don’t do doors anymore, huh?” she asked, voice light but teasing.

You paused mid-drink, fangs still out, mouth curved in a guilty little grin that made her look away too fast. She found sudden interest in the dirt on her sneakers.

“Portals are more efficient,” you said with a lazy blink.

Wanda smiled despite herself, that warm kind of smile she tried to hide. “Make yourself at home,” she muttered, already peeling her hoodie off, adding over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom, “As usual.”

You mumbled something back - half smirk, half acknowledgment - but your attention had already started to slip.

The blood was sweet, warm enough to relax every taut line in your shoulders. You let your head tip back, fangs still buried in plastic, arm tucked under your neck, legs crossed at the ankles in the middle of her bed like you lived there.

Maybe you did, in a way.

You didn’t mean to listen. You didn’t try to notice the way her footsteps padded across the carpet, or the soft rustle of clothing falling to the floor. You didn’t mean to hear the sigh she let out as the hot water hit her back - or the way the scent of soap slowly replaced sweat, steam curling through the air like incense.

But you noticed anyway.

It wasn’t the first time you found yourself a little too aware of Wanda. Of the way her energy shifted when she entered a room. Of how the scent of her skin after a shower made your brain short-circuit for reasons you refused to unpack.

You blamed the blood. It was easier.

You discarded the empty bag in the container she’d sweetly labeled for you months ago - “blood trash 🩸🗑️ only” - and made a valiant effort to gather the books. Your limbs felt too relaxed to cooperate. Your brain, fogged with warmth and the remnants of adrenaline, wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.

She could skip tonight’s lesson. You weren’t really in a teaching mood, anyway. A movie under the covers sounded more tempting by the second.

By the time Wanda stepped back into the room, towel around her neck and damp hair dripping onto her collarbone, you’d transformed the bed into a cozy nest. Pillows fluffed, blankets piled just right, snacks from the Tower kitchen arranged with near reverence on a tray between the two of you.

Wanda’s gaze softened instantly.

“You spoil me, you know that?” she murmured, walking past you with bare feet and warm skin. One hand ruffled her damp hair, while the other reached out to give your shoulder a playful squeeze. The casual intimacy of it sent a flutter through your chest you definitely ignored.

She climbed into bed with a tired sigh, half-buried herself under the covers, and smiled at the little altar of treats you’d made for her.

“Although I love it… if I keep skipping our lessons like this, I’ll only learn the fundamentals by the time I’m thirty.”

You smile at her, the corners of your mouth twitching with playful softness as you click your tongue.

“We can do a whole day of studying tomorrow,” you say, voice low and warm as your fingers move to the buttons of your shirt. “Tonight, I can sense the exhaustion in your skin, sweetheart. You deserve a break.”

There’s the faintest blush on her cheeks at the nickname - she pretends to focus on drying her hair, but you catch the way her eyes flick toward your hands.  Your shirt is halfway unbuttoned now, revealing a smooth stretch of skin.

Wanda’s brow furrows almost instantly.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes narrowing as if trying to read your intentions.

You shrug, lips twitching upward in mock innocence. “Getting more comfortable for bed?”

She lets out a breath of a laugh, light but incredulous, her gaze trailing, just for a second, along the exposed line of your collarbone before she catches herself and lifts a finger in warning.

“I know you came here straight from one of your vampire errands. There is no way you’re sleeping in my bed with whatever blood-slicked demon germs you picked up tonight.”

“But I was already in there - ”

Her look is sharp. Final. You sigh, dramatic and defiant, arms dropping to your sides.

“Fine,” you mutter, letting your shirt fall open completely as you pad toward the bathroom. She calls after you, “Towels are in the bottom drawer!” - with a grin in her voice that only deepens when you growl back, “I know where the goddamn towels are.”

Wanda’s still chuckling softly to herself when her eyes catch a glimpse of your silhouette in the ajar door.

She was not expecting the sound of the shower to affect her the way it does - soft splashes, the shift of your body behind thin walls, steam curling like lazy magic through the cracks. Her mouth goes dry. She tells herself to focus on the screen. Instead, she finds herself watching the way your shadow moves behind the glass.

By the time you return, the scent of her shampoo lingers on your skin, mingling with the heat of the shower in a way that’s almost intimate. Familiar. Her breath catches when she glances up - and then immediately flicks her gaze away again.

You step into the room like it’s yours, skin still damp, droplets trailing down your collarbone and disappearing beneath the towel slung low around your waist. You hum under your breath, hair dripping onto your shoulders, leaving little wet marks on her floor.

Wanda makes the mistake of looking again - just a peek - and nearly chokes on her own breath.

You don’t seem to notice. Or maybe you do. It’s hard to tell with you.

A low chuckle slips from your throat as you move toward her dresser, digging through drawers like you’ve done a hundred times. “What the hell are you watching, Maximoff?”

Her eyes go wide, a guilty flush creeping up her neck. She thinks you caught her - thinks the heat in her chest must be visible somehow. But you add, casual as ever, “Your heart just skipped. Don’t tell me you’re scaring yourself with horror movies again.”

Lucky. Very lucky.

Wanda exhales, relief blooming like smoke. “Guilty,” she says quickly, flashing a nervous smile as she gestures to the screen. It’s some old monster flick - practical effects, over-the-top gore, and all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Something Natasha lent her as a joke.

You glance over your shoulder and laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s what got you riled up? Weak.”

She’s about to retort, something equally sarcastic on the tip of her tongue, when you let the towel drop.

Wanda stops breathing.

There’s nothing between her and the sight of your bare back, the elegant lines of muscle, the quiet strength carved into your form like poetry.

She’s seen you naked before. You were once a maid, then a pirate after your transformation - sharing cramped quarters with others became second nature, which explains your complete lack of modesty when it comes to nudity. But for Wanda, lately, it’s felt less like a habit and more like a divine trial of restraint.

You don’t seem bothered. Not at all. You stretch, slow and cat-like, and turn just enough for her to see the faint veins beneath your skin beginning to darken, the glow in your eyes blooming red for a heartbeat.

“Honestly,” you say, voice lower now, more playful, “I don’t know why you’re impressed. You’ve seen me transform a hundred times. Real-life horror movie, free show just for you.”

To prove your point, you flash her a half-formed vampiric grin - sharp fangs, darkened veins webbing lightly across your cheeks, just enough to make her pulse stutter.

Wanda groans, her thighs pressing together under the blankets as she throws herself dramatically onto the pillows. “Don’t do that,” she mutters, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re gonna give me nightmares.”

You laugh again, completely unbothered.

What she doesn’t see - what she misses, because she’s too busy pretending she’s annoyed and not aroused - is the way your eyes linger on her just a second longer than necessary. The way your smile softens when she hides her face in the pillows. The way your hands move a little slower now, as if savoring the comfort of being here, in her space, like it’s something sacred.

Wanda makes the mistake of not noticing where your hands are searching now. She’s too distracted by her own thoughts - by the fire licking at her skin, the way her body is betraying her with every heartbeat.

You find a shirt that’s comfortably oversized - definitely Wanda’s - and pull it over your head. As you fold a few other pieces and rummage through the drawer for something else to borrow, your fingers close around something far too structured to be clothing.

You freeze for a second. Then a slow, wicked grin curls your lips.

You’ve shared a house with Agatha Harkness for more than a century - there are very few enchanted accessories you haven’t seen. And besides, you lived through the entire pro-discovery, post-puritan, human-rights-to-sexuality era, so your fingers wrap around the leather strap with practiced curiosity rather than shock.

But enchanted magical straps? Those are always tethered to the witch who conjured them.

So when your hand tightens around it and lifts it ever so slightly from the drawer, you don’t miss the snap of Wanda’s head in your direction - eyes wide, mouth parting slightly in panic, cheeks already flushed a deep rose.

“Well, well,” you begin, voice dripping amusement, “what do we have here - ”

Before you can finish the sentence, the item yanks itself from your hand with a rush of scarlet magic and flies back into the drawer, which slams shut with finality.

You burst into laughter, fully delighted.

“Oh my god, Wanda. You don’t have to panic like that!”

“Shut up,” she hisses, crossing the room fast - but her voice is trembling and her face is practically glowing red. “Not a word about this!”

“Too late,” you grin, teasing mercilessly. “I love that you’re getting creative with your magic. Really taking your spellwork into… practical territory.”

She groans, turning away from you, face buried in her hands for a moment.

“I knew Agatha would be a terrible influence when I brought you into the coven,” you continue, folding your arms, expression mock-thoughtful.

Wanda wheels around, cheeks still pink. “Agatha has actually been… very mature about this. Extremely helpful.” She points at you, flustered but trying to sound stern. “You’re the one being insufferable.”

Your grin only widens as her hands press to your shoulders, gently but insistently trying to steer you away from the closet. You’re still laughing, still half-dressed, still entirely enjoying yourself.

But then you cheat.

Vampire speed kicks in, and in a blur, you’ve crossed the room, the object once again dangling from your fingers. Wanda’s horrified gasp echoes off the walls.

“Y/N!”

You hold it up between two fingers, smile cocky, eyes glittering with mischief. “You do know Agatha invented this spell, right? I’m just curious - did she teach you all the tricks, or just the basics?”

Wanda groans in frustration. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

But she doesn’t use her magic to pin you down, not yet. She’s chasing you the mortal way, half-hearted, half-laughing through her mortification, her fingers swiping at the air just inches from your hand every time you dodge.

“Come on,” you tease, voice lilting. “We’re all adults here. Sex is natural. Magic-enhanced sex? Even better.”

“You’re the absolute worst. Worse than Agatha.”

You laugh harder, and that’s when she finally has enough - her magic tugs sharply at your wrist, yanking your arm down and finally letting her seize the toy. But as her fingers close over it, so do yours. Neither of you lets go.

Your eyes meet.

There’s a sudden shift - like the breath is sucked from the room. The laughter lingers on your lips, but something deeper pulses underneath. You tilt your head slightly, tone dropping lower, velvety.

“As your mentor, Wanda… It’s only natural I keep up with the kinds of spells you’ve been exploring.” Your voice is a caress now, the teasing thick with heat. “I just want to make sure you’re reaching your full potential.”

Her breath hitches - she feels the pulse of magic through the toy, the heat it responds to like a heartbeat. Her heartbeat.

You step a little closer, gaze locked to hers. “I could’ve helped you, you know. If you’d told me about this. We could’ve crafted something together. Something designed just for you.”

Her fingers tremble where they hold the object. She tries to speak, but it comes out as a half-broken, “I - I…”

You let go of the strap and take her wrist instead, the shift in contact gentle but commanding. Your other hand rises slowly, carefully, to cup her cheek, and she leans into the touch before she can stop herself.

Your thumb strokes her jaw, and when you speak again, your voice is barely a whisper, warm with sincerity beneath the sultry lilt.

“It’s no problem, really. I still know a few tricks… and I’d be more than happy to teach you. If you want me to.”

There’s a question in your eyes - no pressure, no assumption, just quiet patience. Wanda stares at you, breath shallow, caught between the rhythm of her own desire and the weight of her affection for you. You’re looking at her like she hung the stars, like you’d follow her anywhere if she only asked.

Her voice fails her again. So she nods, slowly.

And the way your smile shifts - softer, sweeter, reverent - makes her stomach flip.

“Oh, Wanda,” you murmur, voice like a promise. “The things I’d do for you... If you only asked.”

Her heart skips.

The hand you still have around her wrist begins to guide hers lower, slowly, deliberately - until it rests just above your waist. Wanda’s breath catches, her lungs refusing to function properly under the pressure of what that might mean. Her mind is racing ahead, heart in her throat, and nothing - nothing - prepares her for what you do instead.

“We’ll have time for you to lead another night,” you murmur, your voice raspy, grounding, commanding in the softest way. “Right now, I’m the one in charge.”

It’s only then that Wanda looks down to where her hand connects with yours, and the sight stops her breath entirely.

The strap, deep crimson and laced with faint magical etchings, is no longer simply something she was holding. It’s now fastened snugly to your body, the enchanted harness shimmering with scarlet runes, secured perfectly around your hips like it belonged there all along. Magic. Old, tailored magic. Magic that listens to arousal.

Her fingers twitch, then squeeze instinctively - and your body jolts forward slightly with a soft, fractured groan.

Wanda’s mouth falls open.

“I bet she didn’t teach you this trick,” you manage through your teeth, your smile strained by the pleasure that flashes visibly across your features.

Wanda doesn’t reply right away. She just releases the strap, palms sliding up to your shoulders instead - firm, grounding, trembling with adrenaline and something deeper. Her eyes lock with yours, voice low but resolute.

“Please stop talking about other people.”

And you’d agree to anything she asked in that moment.

The kiss she gives you is tentative at first, almost uncertain - like she’s afraid you’ll pull away, even though she’s the one fully dressed and you’re still barefoot and mostly naked in her bedroom. Her lips brush yours gently, a silent question.

But when she pulls back, cheeks flushed, eyes searching your face for any flicker of hesitation, you only stare at her like she’s the answer to a question you’ve been afraid to ask for centuries. You don’t need telepathy to know what she’s thinking: Am I crossing a line?

You don’t let her linger in that doubt. Your hands are already cupping her face, guiding her back to you. This time, the kiss is deeper, hungry in the way repressed feelings always are, tender in the way confessions often feel.

It’s the kind of kiss that anchors you. That rewrites the air in the room.

You lose yourselves in it for a while, long minutes of breath shared, lips parting slowly, tongues moving with lazy, reverent rhythm. Wanda's fingers twist into your hair, nails grazing your scalp in ways that make your knees threaten betrayal. And yet it’s the way her hips start pressing forward, restless and seeking friction, that truly tests your restraint.

She’s beautiful like this - messy and warm and open. Lips swollen from your mouth, skin flushed from the weight of wanting. Her whole body hums against yours.

When you finally pull back, it’s only to bury your face in the slope of her neck, placing slow, burning kisses along her collarbone, each one landing with weight. She shudders, fingers tightening around your arms. You feel her lean into you, legs weakening.

Then your fang grazes her skin - barely, a passing scrape - but Wanda’s response is immediate: a high, needy whimper that stokes something primal in you.

“You can feed,” she whispers, breath hot in your ear as she tilts her neck for you. “I don’t mind.”

You close your eyes, inhaling slowly as your grip on her waist tightens. The scent of her skin, still laced with soap and arousal, clouds your thoughts.

“I already have,” you murmur against her throat, voice hushed with restraint. “I don’t really need more tonight.”

Your tongue replaces the fang, a slow, wet stroke against her pulse point - soothing. Grounding.

But Wanda doesn’t want you grounded.

She reaches down suddenly, hand wrapping firmly around the base of the strap between you. The pressure is immediate - blinding - and the groan that rips from your chest is not subtle.

Her voice drops an octave. Confident now. Taunting even.

“I’m offering,” she says, eyes gleaming. “Don’t be rude.”

The enchantment responds at once, feeding off her arousal and yours, sending waves of stimulation back into your body. Your knees nearly buckle at the sensation, and your fingers dig into her hips just to stay steady.

The room spins slightly, heat swirling around you like smoke, thick with magic and want. You swallow hard, regaining your footing - but your fangs have already dropped, lips parting as you hover at her neck again.

There’s something sacred about the way she leans in, baring her throat to you like it’s instinct.

And something dangerous about how much you want her.

She whines sharply and low,  the sound of it vibrating in your throat like a tether pulled too tight. Her back arches into you, desperate for friction, and just as your fangs sink into her neck with controlled precision, her fingers move again - this time teasing the very tip of the strap.

It’s too much. Too much.

A sharp jolt runs through you, spine tightening, and you lose your rhythm in feeding as your hips press forward on instinct. Wanda gasps, not from pain but from impact, because the two of you stumble across the room, limbs clumsy and tangled, until her back hits the wall with a dull thud.

You try. You try to keep your fangs in her skin, your lips at her throat, to hold your body in check and drink without falling apart - but she’s a natural at destruction. Her grip on the toy doesn’t loosen. She keeps moving her hand with shameless precision, masturbating you through the strap like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And maybe she does.

You’re panting against her throat now, ragged and struggling, blood thick on your tongue and arousal hotter than anything you’ve felt in decades. Her power sings under your skin, and it’s not magic, it’s her. Wanda.

She giggles - soft but wicked - and the sound is a spark to dry kindling.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” she purrs in your ear, voice molten. “Let go.”

Your fangs scrape her skin again, unintentionally, because your whole body is shaking from how tightly you’re holding the knot low in your belly.

“I want to see the big, bad vampire break for me.”

Then her tongue flicks your earlobe, her breath warm and wet. Her hand tightens once, twice - and it’s done.

You come undone in her hand with a raw, guttural groan. Your body convulses, the force of it dragging a cry from deep in your chest. One of your hands slams against the wall for balance, the strength behind it splintering the paint, your fingers flexing as your release pulses through you hard and hot. You’re left shaking, panting, head bowed against her shoulder, clinging to her waist like she’s the only thing keeping you from burning alive.

Wanda giggles again, and it’s unfair how pleased she sounds - mischief and something softer curled around her smile. Her hand finally goes still, slick with your cum, and when she lifts her palm to look at it, her expression flickers with something curious.

“I wasn’t sure that would happen,” she says, a little breathless, a little stunned. “But I’m definitely not disappointed.”

It takes a moment for your brain to connect the dots. She's not talking about the sex. Not exactly.

Her eyes flick back to yours, questioning but hesitant. “Is it…?”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

Still catching your breath, you manage a nod and a rough, low reply.

“Mine. Real. Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, but steady now. “Functions like the traditional kind… if you want it to. Witches have very creative, non-male methods for building families.”

You kiss her quickly, nothing but warmth, grounding yourself, then pull back, fingers pried from the wall with effort. Cracked drywall and bruised pride. But worth it.

Wanda’s biting her lip, the implications of your words flickering behind her eyes. It makes her look so devastatingly her -  intellect and feelings always working together. You use that second of distraction to inhale, gathering some of the control she just stole from you.

Not because you mind her leading. You don’t. You love it. But you're not about to let yourself lose control of your strength - not in this space. Not with her. She deserves better than unbridled force. She deserves intention.

You let the back of your knees find the bed, falling into a seated position, legs spread, arms behind you for balance.

The enchanted strap is still vibrating faintly between your thighs - hard and slick, pulsing in tune with the magic it fed off. A bit of your cum leaks down your thigh, gleaming in the soft lamplight.

You look up at her.

“Take off your clothes, darling.”

The flush that blooms over her cheeks spreads down her neck. Still, she doesn’t look away. Her hands move to the waistband of her pajama bottoms, fumbling slightly, awkward in a way that makes your stomach ache with affection.

You sigh, all heat and hunger.

“If you take too long,” you warn, “I’ll rip them off you.”

That gets her.

Wanda swallows hard, visibly trembling. She lets go, magic sparking in the air around her, and in one motion she’s out of her shorts. But her panties are still clinging to her hips when your patience runs out completely.

Your hand reaches up, fast, closing gently but firmly around her wrist. In one motion, you pull her down into your lap, chest to chest.

Centuries old. You've fought monsters, conquered cities, danced with death, and kissed gods. But nothing - nothing - compares to the feeling of Wanda Maximoff grinding into you, panting into your mouth, whispering your name like it’s holy and begging to be fucked.

Your grip on her waist tightens, enough to bruise if you weren't careful, but you’ve never been anything but careful with her. It’s hard when she’s like this, moving her hips in frantic circles, riding the enchanted strap nestled between your legs like her life depends on it.

You manage a breath, a brief second of stillness, just enough to let your mouth travel down her body. Open-mouthed kisses trace along her collarbones, then lower, tongue teasing one nipple, then the other. You suck her tits until she's trembling above you, grinding halted, too overwhelmed to do anything but shake and whimper under the weight of your mouth. Her hands dig into your hair, and her chest heaves, breaths ragged. You didn’t expect her to be this close already.

But because the strap is magically connected to her arousal, her orgasm takes you out of orbit. You don't come physically - but you feel it, the echo of it, the way the spell is designed to drag you along with her, the throbbing ache of your own desire flaring bright. Your hips jolt. You groan into her chest.

She whines, too, writhing, overwhelmed, and pretty sure she's going to combust if you don’t fuck her now.

“I need- ” she pants, trying to pull away just enough to yank off her panties, still in the way because you were too impatient before. But you grab her hips and hold her against the strap, grinding her down onto it. “I’m just - just trying to-”

You rip the fabric with a single swipe of your hand.

“Really?” she protests, glaring for a second. “Those were nice.”

But you’ve already flipped her onto her back, pinning her against the pillows. “I’ll buy you new ones,” you promise, eyes flicking down as your hands part her thighs. “I’ll buy you everything. The whole damn world if you want it.”

Wanda laughs, cheeks flushed. “God, you’re such a sweet talker.”

Scarlet sparks hum around her fingers as they tug your shirt away. Her hands hover nervously at her sides, the way they always do when she’s trying not to tremble.

“I’m not,” you murmur, gaze locked between her legs. You’re barely listening, distracted by the sight of her - dripping, swollen, aching for you. “I’m cranky. Suspicious. You just bring out the version of me worth loving.”

Her expression softens, and she reaches for you, not for a kiss, not for your hand.

No, she’s guiding you. Down, between her legs, until your fingers find her heat and sink inside with an obscene wet sound. She moans, breath hitching.

You take your time with this, one finger, slow and deliberate. Then two. Twisting, curling, finding the spot that makes her clench around you with a cry.

“I want- ”

“I know, baby.” You hush her, your voice thick. “Just stretching you first. You’ll take me easily like this.”

She mewls, hips stuttering, her hands clenching the sheets. And just as you're adjusting, the strap between your legs pulses hard - your body jerks, gasping. Wanda came again.

It’s fast, sharp - her body is too sensitive now - but it still rocks through her like a wave. Her cunt flutters around your fingers, and you don’t know how much longer you can wait.

“Please,” she begs, voice high and thin. “Please, I can’t-”

“I know, shh,” you murmur, soothing her while you line up the strap with her soaked entrance. You press the tip against her, barely nudging inside, dragging it through her slickness just to hear her whine. “You’re so ready for me. You’ve been ready.”

You try to keep teasing her, only because you can. Because centuries have taught you patience in the face of primal hunger.

But then-

Scarlet sparks push at your back, a rough shove that drives your hips forward. You sink in, deep, with a single sharp thrust.

Both of you cry out.

The strap fills her completely, pulsing with her magic, thick and hard and vibrating just enough to keep you both panting. Her heat wraps around you, squeezing like her body’s trying to keep you there forever. And you're a goner.

The bed creaks violently with each thrust. Your hips snap forward, steady and punishing. Wanda claws at your back - literal blood under her nails - but you barely feel it. She's shaking, gasping, her legs wrapped around your waist so tightly there's no air between your bodies.

You don’t relent.

Your pace is ruthless, fucking her deep, fucking her through it. The room smells like sex and magic and sweat, and your hand finds her clit mid-thrust. She sobs at the contact.

"Fuck-!" Her whole body jerks, her fourth orgasm slamming into her so hard the lights above flicker.

You falter, nearly losing rhythm, groaning against her throat. “Wanda-fuck-where should I-?”

“W-What?” she gasps, dazed.

“Should I pull out?” you manage. “Or - ”

“What?” she says again, this time angry. Offended. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Y/N.”

Her ankles lock around you.

You don't argue. You can’t.

You slam into her, thrusting hard as your orgasm rushes through your whole body. You bury your face in her neck, a long, drawn-out groan leaving you as your hips roll forward, grinding deep inside.

The strap pulses, spilling your cum into her in thick, slow waves that make you both tremble.

Her cunt is a soaked mess around the toy, slick and clenching, and when your hips roll again just to stay grounded in her warmth, the wet noise that follows is so obscenely loud it makes her eyes roll back.

And still, she doesn’t let go of you. Doesn’t let you pull away. Her legs hold you in place, her magic curling around your spine.

You're both still struggling to breathe, lungs heavy with the weight of satisfaction, limbs warm and slack after the intensity of climax. But you fight the sleepiness clawing at your body - fight it hard - because Wanda lets out a soft, desperate whine when you try to pull away.

“I gotta pull out, sweetheart,” you murmur, biting back a groan when she clenches around the strap, undeniably on purpose. You push gently against her hips, trying to ease out of her hold.

“I don’t want you to,” she breathes, less demanding now, her voice languid and soaked in exhaustion. Her ankles have slipped from behind your back, but the longing in her tone still tugs at something primal inside you.

You laugh, quiet, honey-sweet and it makes her blush. So does the tender kiss you press just beneath her ear.

“Oh, I know you don’t, baby,” you whisper, adjusting slightly. The enchanted toy slides out of her, and you both sigh at the loss, overstimulated nerves fluttering. Your voice drops, playful but rough with restraint. “But this kind of magic runs on intention. And I’m having all sorts of unholy thoughts right now. I’d rather not knock you up by accident.”

Wanda chuckles breathily at that, but doesn’t protest further. Her body, well-fucked and trembling, is already past its limit. Even your gentlest touch now makes her flinch more than melt.

You slip the strap off with the same ease you'd show removing a coat, as though tonight - the spellbound lust, the raw confessions, the whole fucking-your-best-friend-into-the-mattress thing - was just another Thursday.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, Maximoff,” you tease, catching her eyelids fluttering. Her tired smile is pure surrender. She tries to respond, but her body’s already slipping. “We made a mess, sweetheart,” you murmur, brushing her sweat-damp hair back from her face. “Don’t you want me to-”

Scarlet sparks answer you before she does, pulling you back down and holding you there, face resting on your chest, her magic clinging to your skin like a second blanket. That’s all the answer you get.

And honestly? It’s more than enough.

You settle in with her, bodies tangled, her breath steadying into your collarbone. She’s asleep within seconds.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow.

-

It isn’t the warmth of the sun that wakes Wanda  -  it’s the absence of yours.

The chill that slips into the sheets in your place is subtle but unmistakable. Still tangled in sleep, her hand stretches across the linen instinctively, searching for your body. When she finds only the faint impression of your form on the mattress, her brows knit together in a drowsy frown.

Footsteps shuffle across the wooden floor. The sound is light, familiar. The rustle of fabric follows  -  and something in Wanda's sleepy brain registers it as you.

"It's too damn early, Y/N," she rasps, voice rough with sleep, eyes only half-open. But she doesn’t flinch from the light bleeding through the window  -  because even as her voice breaks the silence, she sees you standing there, reaching up to draw the heavy curtains closed.

"I know, sweetie. That's exactly why I got up," you reply gently, not looking over your shoulder, too focused on shielding the room. "We forgot to close the curtains last night."

It takes a second  -  two, maybe  -  before her still-sleep-fogged mind catches up to the words. Vampire best friend. Sunlight. Her eyes snap fully open.

“Sorry,” she mutters, suddenly wide awake, guilt flooding her features as she tries to sit up.

But you're already crossing the now-dim room, waving off her concern with a shake of your head. “It’s alright. Didn’t get me,” you reassure her with a soft smile, and she breathes out, easing back into the pillows just as you crawl up onto the bed  -  and settle on her waist.

It’s a position that feels far too natural for something so new. And Wanda feels her cheeks bloom red at the thought  -  at how much she wants you to stay exactly like that.

"I know I promised you a day of studying," you murmur, eyes drinking her in like you haven’t seen her in years, “but I was thinking… maybe I could take you on a date instead? What do you say?”

Her answer doesn’t come in words  -  it comes in the small sound she makes when your lips press against hers, hungry and warm and deeply familiar. It steals her breath. She only manages a weak, dazed nod as you pull back with a teasing laugh.

You lean closer to press another kiss to her cheek, but your gaze lingers, catching sight of the scattered constellation of hickeys and bite marks blooming across her collarbone. It makes you pause, and your voice drops as you murmur, “I’ll be gentler next time. I promise.”

Wanda immediately frowns. “Don’t you dare,” she counters, and you snort at the conviction in her sleepy voice.

"Very kinky of you." You grin, and she rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you like a defiant schoolgirl  -  except her fingers are already curling around your hips, pulling you down against her again.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she says, gaze sharp despite the blush on her cheeks. “I know how much you like leaving your mark, Miss Vampire. The thought of showing me off must drive you crazy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her smugness, and the glint in your eye is all the warning she gets before you strike  -  fast, fluid, effortlessly dominant.

You pin her wrists above her head, your palms encasing her wrists like cuffs of silk and fire. She gasps, startled, and then gasps again as your hips grind into hers with calculated force.

“Oh?” you purr, low and dangerous, “You’ve been reading my mind, you naughty witch?”

She flushes, caught between embarrassment and arousal, unable  -  or unwilling  -  to deny it. Her thighs shift beneath yours, trying to find friction, but you don’t let her.

You adjust your position, sliding your thigh between hers. The slow, deliberate pressure makes Wanda moan  -  long and breathless  -  as her hips press down against you.

“Just practicing what you taught me,” she whispers, voice trembling, eyes wide with want.

“Let me teach you more, then,” you say, tone dipped in velvet, watching as she tries again to grind against you  -  only for you to shift back just enough to make her whimper.

“This,” you say, voice thick and sinfully sweet, “is called edging.”

Wanda's breath hitches. She opens her mouth to ask  -  what it is, why you’re doing it, maybe even to protest  -  but your lips are already back on hers, and your next words are spoken against her mouth like a spell:

But not once had they crossed the line they were both circling.

And it wasn’t from lack of want — God, no.

The tension between them was like a live wire humming under skin. Magnetic. Constant. Dangerous in the best way.

And yet, every time they kissed — deeply, breathlessly, hungrily — and Lizzie let her hands wander, let her hips shift closer, Y/N would still pull back. Still catch her breath and rest her forehead against Lizzie’s, chest rising and falling like she was steadying herself.

“We should stop,” she’d whisper. And it always left Lizzie aching.

Worse than the ache was the confusion. Because it wasn’t like Y/N had ever hidden herself. Not from Lizzie. Not from anyone, really.

She was out. Proud. Honest. The world knew Y/N was intersex — and she didn’t soften it for anyone. Not in her lyrics. Not in her interviews. Not in her clothes.

And definitely not with Lizzie.

She never shied away from walking around in just a tank and boxers, her curves and the natural weight between her legs obvious — even when she knew Lizzie was looking. Even when she smirked as Lizzie looked, once.

Y/N was all soft cotton and heat and boldness, and Lizzie loved every part of her for it.

So it wasn’t modesty. And it wasn’t shame.

Which left only one other explanation — and it was driving Lizzie insane.

Because she wanted her. Badly.

Not just her body — though yes, desperately — but her. Every messy, thoughtful, scarred, sweet, funny inch of her. She wanted to worship her, learn her, love her fully.

And yet here they were. Still circling. Still stuck in this beautiful, frustrating dance.

That night, they were curled together on Wanda’s couch. Lizzie was tucked under her arm, one leg over Y/N’s thigh, their bodies pressed from hip to shoulder. The end credits of some old rom-com were rolling on the screen. Neither of them moved to turn it off.

Y/N’s fingers traced lazy patterns on the inside of Lizzie’s thigh. Casual. Thoughtless.

But Lizzie wasn’t feeling casual at all.

She turned slightly, watching Y/N’s profile in the flickering blue light.

“Can I ask you something?” Lizzie said quietly.

Y/N looked down, surprised at the shift in tone. “Of course.”

“But really answer me this time, okay?” Lizzie added gently. “No jokes. No changing the subject.”

Y/N straightened just a bit, the playful curve of her lips fading. “Okay. What is it?”

Lizzie took a breath. “Why haven’t you… made a move? I mean, really made a move?”

Y/N blinked.

Lizzie kept going, her voice soft but steady. “I know you want me. I feel it when we kiss. I feel it when you stop. And I know you’ve had a boner the last three times we made out—”

Y/N immediately groaned, dropping her head back with a hand over her eyes. “Jesus.”

Lizzie laughed — flustered but bold. “Don’t ‘Jesus’ me! You think I don’t notice? I’m literally straddling your thigh half the time and you still try to play it off like we’re in a PG-13 movie!”

Y/N dragged a hand down her face. “It’s not because I don’t want you.”

“I know that,” Lizzie said, then softened. “That’s why it’s driving me crazy. So if you’re not nervous about me, and you’re not uncomfortable with you… then what is it?”

There was a long pause.

Y/N sat up straighter, disentangling herself gently, like she needed room to think. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Lizzie’s eyes for a moment.

Then finally, she spoke.

“I’ve had people tell me they were okay with everything,” she said. “That they loved how open I was, how different I was. But the second things got real, they flinched. Or hesitated. Or asked questions that made it clear they’d never really thought it through.”

Lizzie watched her. Silent. Heart squeezing.

“I’ve had people sleep with me because they were curious,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now. “And people who backed out halfway because they thought they were ready… but weren’t.”

She finally looked at Lizzie again. “But you — you’re different. You don’t treat me like some novelty. You don’t pretend you’re not looking at me. You look at me like you see me.”

“I do,” Lizzie whispered.

“And that scares the hell out of me,” Y/N admitted. “Because I want you so much I can barely think straight, and the last thing I want to do is make you feel like you have to want me back in the same way. I’ve waited my whole life to be seen like this — and I just don’t want to rush it and ruin what we have.”

Lizzie leaned forward, took Y/N’s hand.

“I want you,” she said, slowly and clearly. “I’m not confused. I’m not experimenting. I don’t just want your hands on me, I want you. All of you.”

Y/N’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.

Lizzie leaned in, kissed her — soft and steady, and sure. Her fingers brushed the curve of Y/N’s neck, her other hand finding the waistband of those damn boxers that had been haunting her thoughts for weeks.

Y/N’s breath hitched the moment Lizzie’s fingers dipped just under the hem, not fully touching — just there. A silent question wrapped in a feather-light caress.

Y/N didn’t stop her.

That was new.

And that was all Lizzie needed.

The next kiss wasn’t soft. It was hungry — weeks of slow-burning tension snapping like a live wire. She climbed into Y/N’s lap without thinking, thighs straddling her, hands in her hair as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss until they were both breathless.

Y/N’s hands settled on Lizzie’s hips, squeezing, grounding them both — but she didn’t pull away. This time, she held on.

Lizzie gasped against her mouth when their hips met — the hard line pressing beneath those boxers unmistakable. She rocked once, experimentally, and Y/N let out a low, helpless sound that shot straight through her.

“God,” Y/N muttered, her hands flexing on Lizzie’s waist. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You’ve been killing me for weeks,” Lizzie breathed, dragging her lips down Y/N’s jaw, her neck. “Walking around in your boxers. Teasing me without even realizing.”

“Oh, I realized,” Y/N said hoarsely, tipping her head back when Lizzie kissed beneath her ear. “I realized every damn time you looked at me like you wanted to devour me.”

Lizzie hummed, her hand finally slipping under the waistband, just enough to trace the edge of skin, the heat. She wasn’t rushing — she wanted Y/N to feel everything. To feel wanted in every way.

“I meant what I said,” Lizzie whispered, lifting her head to meet her eyes again. “I want all of you. If you want me too… we don’t have to wait anymore.”

Y/N’s eyes searched hers, like she was double-checking that this was real. That Lizzie still saw her. Still wanted her — now more than ever.

She did.

And Y/N finally nodded. Slowly. Breathlessly. “Okay.”

Lizzie kissed her again — deeper, slower now — and the world narrowed to just them: the warmth of shared breath, the heat between them, the feel of hands exploring without fear.

No shame. No hesitation.

Just them.

****

Y/N’s hands, previously grounding Lizzie, now moved with a purpose that sent shivers through Lizzie’s core. One hand curved around Lizzie’s lower back, pulling her even closer until there was no space left between them. The other found the hem of Lizzie’s shirt, slowly, deliberately, as the kiss deepened.

It was a languid, knowing kiss, no longer frantic but laced with a profound promise. Y/N tasted like desire and relief, and Lizzie drowned in it, her own body humming with a reciprocal wanting. As Y/N’s fingers traced the skin beneath the fabric, Lizzie arched into the touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

With a final, lingering brush of her thumb against Lizzie’s spine, Y/N broke the kiss, just enough to gaze into Lizzie’s eyes. There was a raw, unshielded intensity there that made Lizzie’s breath hitch. A silent question, a shared understanding.

"Okay," Y/N whispered again, the word a soft exhalation of acceptance. Her eyes flickered to Lizzie’s shirt, then back to her face, seeking confirmation.

Lizzie simply nodded, her own gaze unwavering, her hands still tangled in Y/N’s hair. The unspoken permission hung in the air, thick and sweet.

Y/N’s hands moved then, with a confident grace that stole Lizzie’s breath. One hand remained at Lizzie’s back, supporting her as the other deftly peeled away the fabric of her shirt, sliding it up and over her head. The cool air on her skin, followed by the immediate warmth of Y/N’s gaze, was an intoxicating contrast.

Lizzie’s shirt landed with a soft rustle on the floor beside the couch. As Y/N’s eyes swept over her, a slow, appreciative smile curved her lips. It was a look that wasn’t just about physical attraction, but about genuine adoration, and it made Lizzie feel utterly beautiful, utterly seen.

Y/N leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lizzie’s bare shoulder, then another to the sensitive skin just beneath her collarbone. Each touch was deliberate, worshipful. Lizzie shivered, her fingers tightening their grip on Y/N’s hair, silently urging her on.

"You're incredible," Y/N murmured against her skin, her voice rough with emotion.

With a gentle shift, Y/N adjusted their position, one hand sliding under Lizzie’s thigh, the other still at her back. Slowly, carefully, she began to ease Lizzie off her lap and onto the cushions of the couch. Lizzie helped, shifting her weight, her eyes locked on Y/N’s, never breaking the connection.

In moments, Lizzie was lying on the soft cushions, the lingering warmth of Y/N’s body still radiating around her. Y/N hovered above her, propped on her forearms, her gaze unwavering, her hair falling forward to frame her face. The blue light from the television cast long, dancing shadows across their forms, making the moment feel both intimate and otherworldly.

Y/N’s fingers, now free, drifted to Lizzie’s waist, tracing the curve of her hip, then sliding upward, brushing against her ribs, teasingly close to the swell of her breast. Lizzie gasped, a small, involuntary sound, and arched into the touch, her desire a palpable ache.

"Are you still okay?" Y/N asked, her voice a low rumble, her eyes searching Lizzie’s for any sign of hesitation. The question was soft, but the depth of concern in her gaze was profound.

"More than okay," Lizzie breathed, her voice a little shaky, but firm. She reached up, pulling Y/N’s head down for another kiss, this one a sweet promise of everything that was to come. Their lips met, soft at first, then deepening, a symphony of unspoken words and long-held desires finally being unleashed.

Y/N's lips left Lizzie's, trailing a path of fire down her jawline, across her collarbone, and finally settling just above her breast, where her breath hitched with every rapid beat of Lizzie’s heart.

Lizzie’s hands, no longer just in Y/N’s hair, moved to her shoulders, gripping the soft fabric of her shirt, feeling the lean muscle beneath.

The scent of Y/N’s skin—a clean, warm musk with a hint of something sweet—filled Lizzie’s senses, mixing with the heady aroma of their shared desire. She could feel the steady press of Y/N’s body above her, the hard line of her cock still distinct beneath her boxers.

Y/N lifted her head slightly, her eyes dark and intense, a question still lingering there despite Lizzie’s earlier affirmation. "Are you sure?" she murmured, her voice a low, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down Lizzie’s spine. It wasn't a question of consent, but of emotional readiness, a deep-seated need for Lizzie to be truly present and unburdened.

Lizzie reached up, her fingers cupping Y/N’s cheek, feeling the slight stubble there. "I’ve never been surer," she breathed, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled Y/N down again, meeting her lips in a kiss that was both a promise and a desperate plea.

This time, the kiss was deeper, a slow, sensual exploration. Y/N's hands moved from Lizzie's hips, one sliding under her back, cradling her, while the other began to trace patterns along her bare side, dipping into the soft curve of her waist. Lizzie whimpered softly, arching into the touch, her own hips beginning to shift against Y/N's.

Y/N responded instantly, a low groan rumbling in her chest. Her leg, still tucked between Lizzie’s, pressed more firmly, the undeniable evidence of her desire a searing brand against Lizzie's inner thigh. Lizzie instinctively wrapped her leg around Y/N's, pulling her closer, wanting more, wanting all of her.

A soft chuckle vibrated through Y/N's chest as she broke the kiss again, her gaze lingering on Lizzie's flushed face. "You're beautiful," she whispered, her thumb stroking the curve of Lizzie's cheekbone. "Absolutely beautiful."

Lizzie blushed, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You're not so bad yourself," she countered, her eyes dropping to Y/N's still-clothed form. "But you're still dressed."

Y/N’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Are you in a hurry?" she teased, though her own breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Yes," Lizzie said, her voice firm, but a playful glint in her own eyes. She lifted her hands, tracing the line of Y/N’s shoulders, then down her arms, letting her fingers brush against the hem of Y/N’s t-shirt. "Very much so."

Y/N’s eyes searched hers again, a silent confirmation passing between them. Then, with a soft exhale, she shifted, her movements becoming more deliberate. She lifted herself slightly, just enough to give Lizzie room to move, her hands still caressing Lizzie’s sides.

Lizzie didn't hesitate. Her fingers found the hem of Y/N’s t-shirt, tugging lightly. Y/N arched her back, helping Lizzie pull the fabric up, over her chest, and then finally, over her head. The shirt joined Lizzie’s on the floor, a testament to the shedding of inhibitions.

With Y/N's shirt gone, the flickering blue light from the TV now bathed her in its glow, highlighting the toned expanse of her abdomen. Lizzie’s gaze lingered on the sculpted lines of Y/N’s abs, a testament to her dedication, before finally landing on the sleek black fabric of a Calvin Klein bra. It was simple, athletic, and utterly captivating against her skin.

"There," Lizzie murmured, her voice a little breathless as she reached out to trace the taut line of Y/N’s obliques. "Much better."

Y/N let out a low chuckle, a rich, warm sound that vibrated through Lizzie. Her hands, no longer supporting herself, settled on either side of Lizzie’s head, her fingers tangling gently in Lizzie’s hair. Their eyes met, and in that silent exchange, the last vestiges of hesitation dissolved.

The kiss that followed was a deepening current, pulling them both under. It was slower, more deliberate, as if they were savoring each moment, each new layer of intimacy unveiled. Y/N’s lips were soft yet firm, tasting of warmth and longing, and Lizzie responded with equal fervor, her fingers now splayed across Y/N’s toned back, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath her touch.

Y/N shifted, her weight settling more fully between Lizzie’s legs, the hard evidence of her desire pressing against Lizzie’s inner thigh through Y/N’s pants. Lizzie gasped against Y/N’s mouth, a thrill shooting through her. She instinctively arched upward, wanting more, wanting to feel the full, hardness and heat in Y/N’s pants.

"God, Lizzie," Y/N whispered against her lips, pulling back just enough for a ragged breath. Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the same hunger Lizzie felt. "You're going to be the death of me."

Lizzie chuckled, a triumphant, breathless sound. "Only if you let me be." She pulled Y/N back down, deepening the kiss once more, her hands sliding from Y/N’s back to the waistband of her boxers that peaked out of her pants, a silent question hanging in the air. This time, there was no pulling away, only a soft moan of assent from Y/N as Lizzie’s fingers slipped under the elastic, brushing against the warm skin beneath.

Lizzie’s fingers, now beneath the waistband of Y/N’s boxers, grazed skin that was already hot and damp. The subtle, feather-light touch was enough. A low, guttural moan rumbled from Y/N’s chest, a sound of pure pleasure and desperate anticipation. Her hips instinctively bucked once, a hard, undeniable press against Lizzie’s covered center, the significant bulge in her pants a clear testament to her arousal.

"God," Y/N breathed, her voice thick with desire, eyes squeezed shut as she leaned her forehead against Lizzie’s. Her hands tightened in Lizzie’s hair, not pulling, but holding on, like she was grounding herself against a rising tide. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Lizzie chuckled softly, a triumphant, breathless sound. "Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," she whispered back, her own hips beginning to move in a slow, experimental grind against Y/N’s. The friction, even through the layers of clothing, was electric, sending a jolt straight through her. She felt the immediate surge of Y/N’s response, the low growl that vibrated against her.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, dark and hungry, meeting Lizzie’s. There was no hesitation now, only a raw, unyielding want that mirrored Lizzie’s own. "Lizzie," she murmured, a warning and a plea wrapped into one word.

"Mmm?" Lizzie hummed, her smile teasing, her hips continuing their slow, deliberate rhythm. She felt the insistent press against her, growing harder, more demanding with every movement.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her hands leaving Lizzie’s hair to cup her face, her thumbs stroking gently along her cheekbones. "I want you out of those pants," she stated, her voice raspy, direct. "Now."

Lizzie's smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Only if you are too," she countered, her hands now boldly exploring the hard curve of Y/N’s butt through the fabric of her boxers, pulling her even closer. The sheer, heat radiating from Y/N was intoxicating.

The last vestiges of the rom-com credits had faded from the screen, leaving the room in a soft, blue-tinged darkness that felt entirely private, entirely theirs. And in that intimate space, the final barriers between them began to crumble, replaced by a tangible, aching need that had been building for weeks, finally ready to consume them both.

With a decisive movement, Y/N reached for the remote and clicked off the TV, plunging the living room into near darkness, save for the soft glow from the city outside. The sudden silence was potent, amplifying the sound of their ragged breaths and pounding hearts.

Without a word, Y/N scooped Lizzie into her arms. Lizzie gasped, a surprised laugh escaping her lips as she instinctively wrapped her legs around Y/N's waist, burying her face in the curve of Y/N's neck.

The short journey to the bedroom was a blur of motion and electric anticipation. Y/N kicked the door shut with her heel, then gently lowered Lizzie onto the soft mattress. As Lizzie’s feet touched the floor, Y/N knelt before her, her hands already reaching for the waistband of Lizzie’s jeans. The denim slid down with a whisper, pooling around her ankles, and Lizzie kicked them off, her eyes fixed on Y/N.

Y/N stood, her gaze locked with Lizzie’s, and with a quick tug, shed her own pants. The sight of Y/N’s boxers, now taut and undeniably bulging with her arousal, sent a shiver of intense hunger through Lizzie. She watched, captivated, as Y/N's raw desire was so visibly displayed.

Lizzie, perched on the edge of the bed, slowly reached behind her back, her fingers finding the clasp of her bra. With a soft click, the lace fell away, revealing her breasts. She tossed it aside, her gaze never leaving Y/N’s, a silent invitation in her eyes.

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her own hands went to her chest, and in one fluid motion, she unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor. She remained in her boxers, a powerful, magnetic presence.

Then, with a low growl, Y/N climbed onto the bed, looming over Lizzie. She settled herself between Lizzie’s legs, but didn't press down fully, hovering just above her. Her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, devoured Lizzie’s form before locking with her gaze.

"Finally," Y/N murmured, her voice rough with a primal hunger, before she lowered herself, her lips finding Lizzie’s in a deep, ravenous kiss. It was a kiss that devoured, that consumed, weeks of pent-up yearning finally unleashed.

Y/N’s hands slid down Lizzie’s sides, finding the soft curve of her breasts. Her thumbs stroked the sensitive peaks, lightly at first, then with more pressure, eliciting a soft moan from Lizzie that was swallowed by the kiss. Lizzie arched into the touch, her body alive with sensation, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair, pulling her closer, deeper into the intoxicating swirl of their shared passion. The thin lace of Lizzie's underwear was the only barrier left.

Y/N’s mouth left Lizzie’s, leaving a trail of electric heat as she moved lower, drawing a soft gasp from Lizzie when her lips grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, then the hollow of her throat. Her hands continued their tender assault on Lizzie’s breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples, making them tighten and peak. Lizzie arched into the touch, a low hum of pleasure vibrating deep in her chest.

"You feel incredible," Y/N murmured, her breath warm against Lizzie’s skin as her mouth found one of Lizzie’s breasts. She teased the tip with her tongue before drawing it gently into her mouth, a soft suckle that sent a shockwave through Lizzie’s entire body. Lizzie cried out, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair, holding her close, urging her on.

Y/N nursed at Lizzie’s breast, alternating between soft tugs and languid swirls of her tongue, driving Lizzie to the brink. Lizzie’s hips began to writhe instinctively, pressing into the undeniable bulge in Y/N’s boxers. The friction was a sweet torment, a promise of what was to come.

"Please," Lizzie whimpered, her voice strained with desire, "Y/N, please."

Y/N lifted her head, her eyes dark and heavy with passion, meeting Lizzie’s pleading gaze. A slow, knowing smile played on her lips. "Patience, love," she rasped, "we have all night." But her actions betrayed her words. With a soft groan, Y/N shifted, her hand leaving Lizzie’s breast to slide lower, over her stomach, then resting just above the lacy edge of Lizzie’s underwear.

Lizzie’s breath hitched, her body tensing in delicious anticipation. Y/N’s fingers lingered there, teasingly close, tracing the line of the lace without fully touching. The unspoken question hung in the air, a silent permission seeking to be granted.

Lizzie’s hips lifted, a clear, desperate invitation. "Yes," she whispered, "Please, Y/N. Yes."

Y/N let out a low, satisfied hum, a deep rumble that Lizzie felt in her very core. Her fingers, which had been teasing, now slipped beneath the delicate lace of Lizzie’s underwear. 

Y/N’s fingers, which had been teasing, now slipped beneath the delicate lace of Lizzie’s underwear. Lizzie gasped, a sharp intake of breath as Y/N's warm, firm touch finally met her, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through her.

Y/N’s touch was everything Lizzie had imagined, and more. Her finger slid inside, a slow, deliberate invasion that made Lizzie arch her back, a soft cry escaping her lips. Lizzie’s hips instinctively lifted, urging Y/N deeper, inviting more. Her legs parted wider, trembling slightly with the intensity of the sensation.

Y/N leaned down, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Lizzie’s neck, just beneath her ear. "So ready for me," she whispered, her voice rough with escalating desire.

Lizzie whimpered, her hands finding Y/N’s shoulders and squeezing, her nails digging in slightly. The combination of Y/N’s mouth on her neck and the masterful touch below was almost unbearable. Her body tightened, vibrating with a delicious tension.

Y/N continued her rhythmic work, her single finger expertly circling and pressing, building the pressure within Lizzie. Lizzie’s breathing became ragged, her moans soft cries that filled the quiet bedroom. She could feel herself spiraling, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

Then, with a low groan that reverberated against Lizzie’s lips as Y/N captured them in a deep, hungry kiss, Y/N added another finger. Lizzie’s body convulsed around her, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as the added fullness brought her to the brink. Y/N's touch intensified, sending Lizzie soaring, her hips bucking against the exquisite pressure.

A soft cry escaped Lizzie’s throat, muffled by Y/N’s kiss, as her body convulsed around Y/N’s fingers, tremors shaking her from head to toe. Y/N held her, her body pressed firmly against Lizzie’s, absorbing every shiver, every delicious tremor.

When the last echoes of the orgasm faded, Lizzie lay breathless, utterly sated, yet already yearning for more. Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her, a triumphant, tender smile gracing her lips.

“So beautiful,” Y/N murmured, her voice husky with lingering desire as she leaned down to kiss Lizzie’s cheek, the soft brush of her lips sending another shiver through Lizzie’s cooling skin. Y/N then slowly, carefully, pulled her fingers out from inside Lizzie. Lizzie felt the absence immediately, a fresh ache already building.

Y/N leaned in, her lips finding Lizzie’s for a soft, tender kiss, allowing Lizzie a moment to recover from the intense high. But recovery wasn't what Lizzie wanted. Her body was already humming with a renewed, insistent demand. Without a moment's hesitation, Lizzie deepened the kiss, her own lips pressing more firmly against Y/N's, her tongue boldly seeking entry.

At the same time, Lizzie’s hands, driven by an undeniable hunger, reached down. Her fingers found the prominent bulge in Y/N’s boxers, gently cupping the significant weight she’d been circling for weeks. A soft groan rumbled from Y/N’s chest as Lizzie began to stroke her hard member through the fabric, a silent promise of all the pleasure yet to come.

A low, helpless sound escaped Y/N's throat, a mixture of surprise and pure, unadulterated pleasure, as Lizzie's fingers closed around her hard member through the soft cotton of her boxers. The immediate, intense friction sent a jolt of fire through Y/N, making her hips instinctively buck against Lizzie's hand. The kiss deepened, becoming more fervent, a desperate clash of mouths.

Lizzie, emboldened by Y/N's reaction, continued to stroke, feeling the impressive length and heat beneath her palm. She shifted slightly, allowing her hips to grind against Y/N's, the thin fabric of her own lace underwear doing little to dampen the exquisite friction.

Y/N groaned against Lizzie's lips, pulling back just enough to gasp for air, her eyes squeezed shut. "Lizzie," she choked out, her voice ragged with desire. Her hands, which had been gently cupping Lizzie's face, moved to grip her wrists, not to stop her, but to hold on, to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensation. "You're going to make me come right through these damn boxers."

Lizzie's eyes glinted with mischief, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Is that a threat?" she purred, her fingers continuing their delicious work. She felt the palpable tremors running through Y/N's body, the desperate clench of her muscles.

"It's a promise," Y/N countered, her voice barely a whisper, as she leaned back in for another hungry kiss, her tongue tangling with Lizzie's. The taste of Lizzie, sharp and sweet with desire, was all she could focus on. This was it. This was the moment they had both been waiting for, circling for. No more hesitation, no more holding back. Just pure, unadulterated want, finally unleashed.

With a final, decisive movement, Lizzie’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Y/N’s boxers, pulling them down. Y/N gasped, a sharp, choked sound, as the fabric slid past her hips, freeing her. Lizzie’s hand was instantly there, wrapping around Y/N's exposed, throbbing arousal.

Lizzie then gently, but firmly, pushed Y/N down onto the bed. Y/N landed with a soft thump, a surprised groan escaping her lips as Lizzie shifted, now hovering over her. Her eyes, wide and dark with desire, met Lizzie’s. This was a new position, a new dynamic, and the raw hunger in Lizzie’s gaze made Y/N’s breath hitch.

Lizzie leaned down, her lips brushing Y/N's ear. "My turn," she whispered, her voice husky, before she lowered her head, her eyes fixed on Y/N’s magnificent, now fully revealed, form.

Lizzie's gaze devoured Y/N's exposed form. The sight of her hard, engorged member, heavy and pulsing, was breathtaking. It was a tangible expression of the desire that had been simmering between them for weeks, now laid bare and glorious. Lizzie reached out, her fingers tentatively tracing the length of Y/N's shaft, feeling the heat, the slick readiness of her.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her hands clenching the sheets beside her, her head tilting back as Lizzie’s touch ignited a new wave of sensation. "Oh, God, Lizzie," she rasped, her voice thick with a mixture of awe and desperate yearning.

Lizzie’s fingers tightened, a confident, possessive grip. She watched Y/N’s face, tracing the exquisite lines of pleasure and vulnerability there. It was a powerful, intoxicating feeling to be the one to bring Y/N to this point, to see her so utterly consumed. With a soft sigh, Lizzie leaned down, her lips brushing the tip of Y/N's arousal. The taste was sharp, musky, and utterly intoxicating.

Lizzie's gaze devoured Y/N's exposed form. The sight of her hard, engorged member, heavy and pulsing, was breathtaking. It was a tangible expression of the desire that had been simmering between them for weeks, now laid bare and glorious. Lizzie reached out, her fingers tentatively tracing the length of Y/N's shaft, feeling the heat, the slick readiness of her.

Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her hands clenching the sheets beside her, her head tilting back as Lizzie’s touch ignited a new wave of sensation. "Oh, God, Lizzie," she rasped, her voice thick with a mixture of awe and desperate yearning.

Lizzie’s fingers tightened, a confident, possessive grip. She watched Y/N’s face, tracing the exquisite lines of pleasure and vulnerability there. It was a powerful, intoxicating feeling to be the one to bring Y/N to this point, to see her so utterly consumed. With a soft sigh, Lizzie leaned down, her lips brushing the tip of Y/N's arousal. The taste was sharp, musky, and utterly intoxicating.

Y/N arched into Lizzie’s touch, a guttural groan vibrating through her chest. Her hips lifted instinctively from the bed, meeting Lizzie’s mouth with a desperate urgency. Lizzie took her in, slowly, deliberately, drawing Y/N deeper into her mouth. The sheer size, the intense heat, the rhythmic pulse against her tongue – it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

Lizzie worked her magic, her tongue flicking, swirling, and tracing, while her hands continued to stroke and guide. Y/N’s breathing became ragged, a series of short, sharp gasps, as her fingers dug into the sheets, her body trembling under Lizzie’s ministrations.

"Lizzie," Y/N choked out, her voice barely recognizable, strained with building pleasure. Her legs began to tremble, her entire body taut with the exquisite tension. "I'm... I'm going to—"

Lizzie didn't let her finish, deepening her efforts, wanting to be the one to bring Y/N over the edge. She felt Y/N’s entire body clench, a deep moan tearing from her throat as she pulsed against Lizzie’s mouth. The taste of her release, hot and musky, filled Lizzie’s mouth, a sweet victory.

Y/N collapsed back onto the bed, breathless, her body still quivering from the aftershocks. Lizzie stayed with her for a moment, savoring the taste, before slowly pulling away, a triumphant smile on her lips. She looked at Y/N, her eyes shining with affection and fierce satisfaction.

"Now," she whispered, her voice husky, "I think it's time to get rid of this." Her fingers found the lace at her own hips, and with a swift, deliberate movement, she slid the delicate fabric down her legs. It joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, leaving her entirely bare.

Lizzie then parted her legs, a silent, open invitation. Y/N's eyes, still glazed with the afterglow of her own release, widened, now fixed on the sight of Lizzie's nakedness. A fresh wave of desire surged through Y/N, replacing the lingering pleasure with a new, potent ache.

With a low groan, Y/N shifted, moving to lay fully on top of Lizzie. The press of her heavy, satisfied body against Lizzie's eager one was a sensation Lizzie had craved for weeks. Y/N captured Lizzie's mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, tasting her own desire, her own triumph, on Lizzie's lips. Their bodies molded together, skin against skin, the heat between them electric and undeniable.

Y/N broke the kiss, her forehead resting against Lizzie's, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Her eyes, still dark with desire, searched Lizzie's. "Do you... do you have a condom here?" Y/N asked, her voice a little breathless, her gaze sweeping around Lizzie’s familiar bedroom.

Lizzie smiled, a soft, reassuring curve of her lips. She reached up, cupping Y/N’s cheek. "No need, love," she murmured, her thumb stroking Y/N’s skin. "I'm on the pill."

A relieved sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, the last flicker of concern vanishing from her eyes as Lizzie confirmed she was on the pill. The unspoken barrier of protection, now unnecessary, melted away, leaving only raw, uninhibited desire. Y/N’s body, already primed and throbbing, pressed more intimately against Lizzie’s.

"Good," Y/N breathed, her voice a low growl, her lips finding Lizzie’s again. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, a testament to the sheer relief and burgeoning excitement. There were no more words, only a primal language of touch and sensation.

Y/N shifted, her hips grinding slowly against Lizzie’s. The friction, skin on skin, sent shivers through Lizzie’s core. She wrapped her legs around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer, higher, her body instinctively arching to meet Y/N’s palpable need.

A soft moan tore from Y/N’s throat as their bodies finally aligned. She poised herself at Lizzie’s entrance, her gaze locking with Lizzie’s, a silent question in her eyes. It was a moment of profound connection, of shared vulnerability and undeniable anticipation.

Lizzie’s eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of desperate yearning and utter trust. She nodded, a small, eager movement of her head, her hips lifting in an undeniable invitation. "Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Please, Y/N."

With a guttural groan, Y/N began to move, slowly at first, easing herself into Lizzie’s warmth. Lizzie gasped, her body adjusting, accommodating the delicious invasion. The sensation was intense, a deep, satisfying fullness that made her arch her back and cling to Y/N, her nails digging into Y/N’s shoulders.

But then, as Y/N pushed a little deeper, Lizzie’s breath hitched, and a sharp, involuntary hiss escaped her lips.

Y/N froze, stopping immediately. Her body tensed above Lizzie, her breath catching in her throat. She looked down, her eyes wide with immediate concern. "Lizzie? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Her voice was tight with worry, her movements still.

Lizzie reached up, her hands finding Y/N's face, her fingers stroking her cheeks. "No," she whispered, her voice a little breathless but firm, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "No, you didn't hurt me." Her hips lifted again, a soft, insistent demand. "It's just… you're bigger than I'm used to." She arched into Y/N, urging her closer. "But it feels so good. Perfect."

Her eyes, still wide with desire, pleaded with Y/N. "Don't stop," she breathed, pulling Y/N's head down for a fierce, hungry kiss. "Please, Y/N. Just… move."

Y/N’s gaze searched Lizzie’s, finding nothing but raw desire and unwavering trust. A wave of relief washed over her, quickly replaced by a surge of desperate longing. With a low, guttural groan, Y/N began to move again, slowly at first, carefully, allowing Lizzie’s body to stretch and adapt.

Lizzie gasped, a sound of both pain and exquisite pleasure, as Y/N eased deeper. Her fingers tightened on Y/N’s shoulders, her legs locking around Y/N’s waist, pulling her closer, higher. The initial discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a deep, fulfilling pressure that spread through her core.

Y/N watched Lizzie's face, meticulously gauging her reactions, slowing her rhythm when Lizzie tensed, then picking up the pace when Lizzie arched into her. She moved with a primal instinct, a dance of give and take, pushing Lizzie to the edge of her comfort zone only to pull her back into a world of pure sensation.

The bed beneath them began to creak a rhythmic protest as their movements grew more fervent. Lizzie’s moans became louder, more uninhibited, mirroring the raw, guttural sounds that tore from Y/N’s throat. Their bodies slapped together, slick with sweat and desire, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the quiet bedroom. The air grew thick with their shared heat and the scent of aroused skin.

Lizzie was lost, utterly consumed by the rhythm, by the feel of Y/N so completely within her. She clung to Y/N, her nails digging into Y/N’s back, urging her faster, deeper. Each thrust brought her closer, building a coil of tension that hummed through her entire body.

"Y/N," Lizzie cried out, her voice ragged, "I’m… oh God, Y/N!"

Y/N responded instantly, her movements becoming a powerful, relentless drive. She pressed into Lizzie, feeling the delicious tightening around her, knowing they were both on the brink. Her own climax was building fast, a fire roaring through her veins. "Lizzie!" she roared, her voice raw with passion, pushing in one final, deep thrust.

A wave of intense pleasure crashed over Lizzie, a breathless, shuddering orgasm that rippled through her. Her body convulsed around Y/N, clinging to her, as a simultaneous groan tore from Y/N’s throat, her own body arching and trembling above Lizzie as she poured herself into her.

****

They collapsed together, heavy and breathless, bodies slick with sweat, heartbeats slowly synchronizing. Y/N buried her face in the crook of Lizzie’s neck, her arm tightening around Lizzie’s waist, holding her close, utterly spent yet utterly content. The air around them thrummed with the fading echoes of their climax, leaving behind a profound sense of peace and deep, satiated connection.

After a few quiet moments, Y/N stirred, lifting her head to look at Lizzie. Her eyes, though still heavy-lidded, were full of a soft, tender adoration. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Lizzie’s temple, then her nose, then finally, a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

"Are you... are you really okay?" Y/N whispered, her voice still a little rough, but laced with genuine concern. The memory of Lizzie's initial hiss still lingered.

Lizzie smiled, her own eyes soft and hazy with contentment. She reached up, stroking Y/N’s damp hair back from her forehead. "More than okay, Y/N," she murmured, her voice husky. "Perfect. You were absolutely perfect." She tightened her arms around Y/N, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s shoulder. "See? I told you. No confusion. Just... you."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, a sound of profound relief and happiness. She shifted slightly, easing some of her weight off Lizzie, but still keeping their bodies intimately connected. Her fingers began to trace lazy patterns on Lizzie’s hip, a calming, possessive touch.

"I didn't rush it this time, did I?" Y/N asked, a hint of vulnerability in her tone.

Lizzie chuckled softly. "Definitely not. But I think we've made up for lost time, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N laughed, a rich, satisfied sound. She pulled back just enough to meet Lizzie’s gaze, her eyes shining. "I'd say. And I'd say it was worth every damn second of the wait." She leaned down and kissed Lizzie again, a slow, deep kiss that promised many more nights just like this one, finally unburdened by hesitation or fear. The beautiful, frustrating dance was over. Now, there was just them.

A few contented moments later, Y/N stirred, gently pulling herself out of Lizzie. Lizzie let out a soft murmur of protest at the loss of contact, but Y/N just smiled, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead.

"Stay right there," Y/N whispered, her voice husky. She swung her legs off the bed, her movements fluid and unhurried as she padded towards the en-suite bathroom. Lizzie watched her go, a warm flush spreading through her body.

Y/N returned quickly, a soft, damp washcloth in hand. She sat on the edge of the bed, facing Lizzie, and with tender care, began to gently wipe away the evidence of their passion from Lizzie's inner thighs and stomach. Her touch was warm, intimate, and full of quiet reverence. Lizzie simply closed her eyes, basking in the tenderness, feeling utterly cherished.

Once Lizzie was clean, Y/N moved to herself, carefully wiping down her own body with the same cloth. She took a moment, her eyes briefly closing as she savored the afterglow, before meeting Lizzie's gaze again.

"Comfy?" Y/N asked, her voice soft, as she tossed the washcloth aside and then leaned over Lizzie, propping herself up on one arm. She pressed a gentle kiss to Lizzie’s lips, then another, a slow, lingering exploration. "Sleepy?"

Lizzie hummed, her eyes still heavy-lidded, but a contented smile playing on her lips. "Content," she corrected, her voice a soft murmur. She reached out, tracing the curve of Y/N's jaw. "Very, very content."

Y/N smiled, a genuinely happy, relaxed smile that reached her eyes. She shifted, pulling Lizzie closer until they were curled together, skin to skin under the covers. Lizzie nestled her head on Y/N's shoulder, feeling the steady beat of her heart against her ear.

Lizzie's fingers began to trace languid patterns over Y/N’s toned abs, feeling the lean, sculpted muscle beneath her touch. She moved her hand up and down, from Y/N’s ribs to the soft curve of her lower abdomen. Sometimes, her touch would linger closer to Y/N’s soft member, a silent, teasing reminder of the passion they had just shared, and a gentle promise of more to come. Y/N let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss into Lizzie’s hair, utterly relaxed in her embrace.

"Good," Y/N whispered, her lips brushing Lizzie's hair. "Me too." She held Lizzie tight, the comfortable silence of the room punctuated only by their synchronized breathing. This was the peace she’d longed for, the quiet intimacy that felt like coming home.

"fuckfuckfuckfuckkk" was all Rio could say as Agathas hands snaked further around her thighs holding her legs open. Lilia continued to pound into her at a brutal pace.

Neither Agatha nor Rio actually knew why Lilia was being so rough today but neither were complaining.

As Lilia's strap brought Rio closer and closer to the release she was dying for, Agatha began to whine from the lack of attention from either of them.

"aww, you need some attention, amuri ? Has watching me edge Rio gotten you all worked up ?"

Lilia's words were sewn with faux sympathy but Agatha was so needy that all she could do was desperately nod her head. "you know what that means."

If she helped Agatha then Rio would be left on the edge again. She couldn't let that happen again. When it dawned on her what Lilia meant she began to beg in hopes of finally being able to cum.

"Agatha please―please don't ! I need this. I need to cum," Rio turned her head back to Lilia, "mommy please i-im so close"

Rio knew her begging was pathetic. Lilia never took kindly to begging, seeing it as futile, but in the moment she didn't care. Rio became so lost in her thoughts only to be pulled out of them by the sudden feeling of Lilia thrusting back into her.

Her thrusts were so forceful, giving Rio exactly what she craved. Once she reached the edge again, she was going to be to cum but before she could, she heard Lilia say, "what's the word ?"

"mommy."

"go on, lu me ciuri, cum for me."

Rio had never moaned so loud when she was finally allowed to cum, though it was quickly overshadowed by lilia pulling Agatha forward and onto her lap.

"think you can be a whining bitch and not get punished ?"

Agatha stayed silent.

"think again."

As she spoke, she gave Agatha a hard spank making her let out a small squeal. "i want you to count for me, cagna, i thinking 20."

Agatha turned her head to look at Lilia just to say, "yes mommy."

1...

2...

3...

4...

5...

"you see ? This is what you get for being an impatient, needy little bitch."

6...

7...

8...

9...

10...

The tenth spank was harder, making Agatha jump slightly. Rio, watching from the side, let out a soft moan at the scene in front of her.

11...

12...

13...

14...

15...

Lilia smirked at Agathas small whimpers of mercy. "you're doing so well, amuri, just a few more."

16...

17...

18...

19...

20...

A sigh of relief was let out when Agatha was done counting. She felt like she could finally breathe again "now tell me, what was it you wanted so badly ?"

"want you to use your tongue, please ?"

Lilia didn't say anything so Agatha tilted her head as if to ask the question again.

"no."

"what ?" Agatha asked desperately.

“Bro you need to lighten up a little bit,” Bucky says as he grips both of your shoulders from behind. A heavy sigh leaves your body as you spin around in your office chair to face him.

“I can’t, Stark will have my head if these aren’t done by Friday,”

“I know- but that doesn’t mean you gotta go all Quasimodo on us and be stuck here all night,”

“What does that mean?”

“Shit, we really do gotta get you outta here,” Bucky looks over your shoulder and at the spreadsheets you had created for Mr. Stark.

“You are much further along on this report than Sam, Thor, or Steve. Come on, let’s go out tonight, and I promise we can all go into the meeting room tomorrow and collab,”

You turn to look back at the reports stacked high on your desk and the 33 unread email notification on your screen. You desperately want to say no, but you also know that being stuck here isn’t going to do you much good. With life going the way that it was, you decided to throw yourself into work to distract yourself. The guys at the office must have noticed.

“Alright - but I want to be home by 2 am at the very latest,”

“That’s it! Let's gooo,” Bucky tries to hype you up. Sam now owed him $30, believing no one could get you away from the office.

“Go home, change into something a little more comfortable, then meet us back at the high rise around 8 pm,” Bucky says before taking off. You give him a weak smile and a wave before wrapping up your tasks.

Working for Stark had many benefits, but it also took a huge toll on you and your personal life. Your girlfriend of 3 years finally had enough and left you almost 2 months ago. The high demand, stress, and constant travel were too much for her, and she no longer wanted to support you. You understood, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt or cause you to reevaluate working for the man.

By the time you left the office, it was already 6:30 pm. All you really want to do is take a shower and slip into bed, but you stop yourself and opt for the shower and putting on a fresh outfit. As you look into the mirror, you can’t help but feel a little silly. The clothes you put on felt looser and heavier than before.

“I guess I need to hit the gym again…” you sigh. The realization that the breakup was affecting more than just your mental health.

As you pull up to the high rise, Bucky, Sam, and Steve are all standing outside the doors. They all give you an enthusiastic wave.

“Alright champ, let’s go,” Steve says while handing you a flask.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like what Thor brought to the Christmas party last year. Just a little whisky is all,” Sam laughs. A smile creeps onto your face as your brain pieces together the memories of the Christmas party. No one truly knows what happened other than Pepper ended up pregnant, Steve and Bucky found themselves naked in the lobby fountain, Sam had photocopied his ass and put them up all over the office, and you and Thor somehow ended up on the roof with a cat that he ended up taking home.

You throw your head back, downing the amber liquid in hopes that it will give you strength and courage for whatever is about to come next.

After a 10-minute walk, the men all stop in front of a club called “The Witches Road” and pull out a blue card. The woman at the door nods and lets them in, but stops you with her cane.

“Oh, they’re with us, Monica,” Thor smiles. Monica’s bright blue eyes pierce you as she looks you up and down with a curious look. Her all-leather body suit accentuated her figure in the most delicious way.

“They still need to be vetted God of Thunder,” Monica says as she pushes the end of the cane into your chest. You back up against the wall and put your hands up. Monica pats you down for any weapons and takes your wallet out of your pocket. She looks over your ID and laughs.

“You sure you’re ready for this cowboy?” Monica smirks.

“I-I think so,”

“What’s your name?”

“Oh um-”

“Not the one on the ID, I can read. I mean, you have to have a name when you go down there. Your boys already have God of Thunder, White Wolf, Falcon and Captain.” You look at each of the men as she calls out their nicknames. You can’t help but laugh a little as you hear them. They all fit so well.

“Badger,” you say confidently. The group looks at each other and then back at you.

“I think it fits,” Sam says.

“Badger it is,” Monica says as she gives you the same card with your new name on it.

“Have fun kids,” Monica teases and lets you all through the doors.

As you step over the threshold, you are transported into a whole new world. If Bucky’s hand wasn’t on your shoulder, you would have put money on this being a hallucination.

“Where are we, Narnia?” you mumble.

“Kind of feels like that for sure,” Sam laughs. Your eyes lock onto the bioluminescent leaves on the ground that seem to have a heartbeat of their own. They flash between blue, orange, and light purple. Fog and smoke hung in the air, covering the dark and twisted trees that held the roof above their heads. The only light that came from above was a giant orb that replicated the full moon and a few twinkling lights as stars. The music playing ties it all together. 

Bucky guides you through a maze of people over to the bar. As you approach, a woman with bright blue hair with a purple stripe down the middle and a maroon tech-like lingerie set meets you at the counter with 5 drinks.

“You always take such good care of us Suger,” Bucky flirts. The woman just gives him a wink and then looks over at you.

“Who’s this fresh face White Wolf?” she says as she licks her lips.

“Badger, they work with us too,”

“Oh, you must be the one they’ve been talking about. It’s nice to finally put a face to all the stories,” she says as she offers her hand out.

“It’s nice to meet you too, though I can’t say they have said anything about knowing someone as beautiful as you,” You bow your head and kiss her hand.

“The ladies are going to love them,” the woman giggles. “The name is Nebula. My sister Gamora works here too.” She nods in the direction of a woman with dark hair and a matching lingerie set, except hers is green.

“We would like to order the Darkhold!” Thor says as he slams his empty glass on the table.

“Coming up yall,” Darcy pulls out 5 red and black little booklets and hands them to each of you. You down the drink as you look it over. The others have their names etched into the leather cover. Flipping through the pages, you notice the first few pages are full of rules, accommodations, a map, and the rest look similar to journal entries.

“Give that to Lady Death and she’ll put your name on it. When you’re done, you just come back and give these to me,” Nebula smiles. You nod and put it into your back pocket.

“Do they even know what they’re getting into boys?” Gamora asks as she peeks her head out from behind Nebula.

“What’s the fun in that love?” Sam teases. The women both laugh and shake their heads.

“Good luck Badger,” Nebula smiles at you before starting to help other customers at the bar. You follow your coworkers to a hidden door where a passcode lock is hidden behind a painting of a Jackalope in Victorian garb.

“You do the honors Badge,” Thor says and points to his book. You grab the booklet out of your pocket and start to read the first page.

“Welcome to the Darkhold. All users agree to all the terms and rules laid out in this booklet. Should any rules be broken, you will be under review and your membership may be suspended or terminated. Should you be found negligent or a danger to others, your membership will be terminated, and lawful actions will be taken. Everything goes, but everyone has their limits, and those must be respected. Please review the rules below.

RESPECT AND CONSENT are everything. If you don’t have that you don’t have anything. Be respectful and discuss your safeword and what you are looking for beforehand. If you or your partner aren’t respectful actions will be taken.

Know the color system. Green = good/continue/go. Yellow = caution/ask questions. Red =  immediately stop.

What happens in the Darkhold stays in the Darkhold. Secrets keep you safe.

Code names only. Do not under any circumstances give out any personal information.

Do not seek anyone outside of these doors unless you know them beforehand or an arrangement has been made.

 No judgment or shaming of others.

Most importantly- have fun.

Passcode: 1750

You enter the passcode on the number pad and the door sinks into the floor, startling you. Thor just laughs and pushes you through while the rest follow. The room is only illuminated by a small red light that hangs above you all.

“Take off your coat,” Sam says. The rest of them put their coats in the arms of a skeleton hanging from the wall. As you take your coat off, you see a figure take shape before you. The men all bow their heads toward it.

A woman with a skull mask covering the bottom half of her face, wearing a floral lingerie set, stands behind a podium.

“Lady Death, this is Badger, our newest member,” Bucky says as he bows. The woman looks you over with scrutinous eyes.

“Hand over your booklet,” Lady Death demands. You quickly pull it out of your pocket and hand it to her. She grabs your wrist and takes out a knife.

“Woah!” Before you can react, the rest of the men are holding you still. Thor lifts the sleeve of your shirt, exposing your skin to the cold tip of her blade.

“Do you, Badger, promise to uphold all the standards and conduct yourself in a respectful manner? Promise to never disobey the laws set forth in this booklet? Promise to treat the men and women that you meet here with dignity and honor?”

“Yes! Yes!” The knife carves a crescent moon into your deltoid.

“You are now one of us- you show this mark to no one. If you break any rules or bring dishonor to your name or our establishment, you will face severe consequences.” Lady Death blows a cool substance on your fresh wound, closing it immediately. “And we will take this mark back.” The tip of the knife is now right under your chin.

“I understand ma’am,” you say confidently.

“Good, already has manners,” Lady Death teases.

“So what are you into?” Lady Death asks.

“Umm.. like kinks or like..?” you stutter. No one had ever been this forward with you about sex.  

“Well do you like dick, pussy, ass, boobs, both, all of the above? Older or younger? Saved or not? Curvy, thick, skinny, muscular?”

“He can try all those out later, he’s coming with us Miss Death,” Bucky says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. The woman follows you all down the hall and to the red door. Bucky opens it up and you all shuffle in.

“Welcome to the Red Room Badger- whatever you can dream up, these beautiful people can create. The world is yours,” Lady Death says.

The room is a deep crimson red with black accents, all the furniture you can think of is here in this front room, placed strategically- chaises, couches, bean bags, and there is even a conversation pit covered with pillows and blankets. To your surprise, the room isn’t super busy. There are three couples spread out around the place, and a few men on their own jerking off to the view.

“Come on, we’re going to the glory holes,” Bucky says as he pulls you away from the scene. You follow your colleagues down a hallway and into another room. This room has the same theming, except instead of couches or other furniture, there is a wall with half-circle cutouts with the lower half of women’s bodies evenly spread out. The women are lying down on some sort of massage table, their butts at the end of it and legs hanging down.

Your boys' pants are around their ankles before you even undo your button. You slowly push down your briefs and jeans to your thighs so your junk is free, but mostly everything else is covered. You’re nervous, shy even. The others walk up to a body and immediately start. You walk up to the glory hole wall where the most gorgeous body is laid out for you. Unfortunately you can only see from their belly button down. Even in the dim light of the neon glow, she’s still stunning.

You walk up to her and introduce yourself. A small giggle can be heard from behind the half-wall.

“Hi, I’m the Scarlet Witch,”

“Can I touch you?” The giggle this time is a bit louder.

“My job would be very difficult if you couldn't touch me,”

“Well you know… consent and all,”

“I think it’s sweet. Yes, you can touch me,”

The woman behind the wall was expecting you to touch her ass or pussy but your hands found her thighs first. Then they wander up her sides and onto her stomach. Her porcelain skin is the best thing your fingers have ever had the pleasure of feeling.

“You’re even softer than I imagined.” The words come out almost like a moan.

The giggle now was almost a laugh.

“Sorry I didn't  mean to say that out loud,”

“S’okay honey bee,”

Your head whips around as you hear a woman scream out. Bucky is fucking the girl next to you so rough that the half wall that they all share is starting to shake.

“Don’t mind him darlin. He does this every other week,” Now it was your turn to laugh.

“What’s so funny? We don’t shame here,”

“Oh no, no please. That’s my buddy. He brought me here,”

“Oh” the Scarlet Witch laughs too. “He’s a regular here. He’s known as the White Wolf or Winter Soldier, depending on what mood he’s in,”

You watch him manhandle the woman he’s using. His long, deep strokes coupled with the pace he’s going is impressive.  “Has he ever…?” Most of you didn’t want the answer because you were afraid but the part of you who asked wanted to be prepared to be disappointed in yourself that you could never give her what he had.

“No honey. The woman he’s with is his favorite. Her name is Black Widow. He has a type and I don’t fit it. That’s okay though, because there’s someone here for everyone,” You let out a sigh of relief. You turn your attention back to the woman in front of you. You wish you could see her top half, you would have bet your whole life that it was even more beautiful.

“Can I eat you out?” you ask as you rub your hand over her pussy.

“Umm..” she hesitates

“Sorry can I not do that?”

“No no you can- it’s just- I have never had anyone ask to do that before?”

“Like ask permission or do it to you?”

“Do it to me. Most people just put their dicks in and go at it..” a small humorless laugh.

“Oh, well, they are missing out. I really want to taste you if that’s okay,”

“Be my guest Honey Bee,”

“Safe word?” you ask as you fall to your knees and slowly start kissing your stomach and pelvic area.

“Magic, what’s yours?”

“Uh- Chaos,”

Your lips graze across over to her thighs, nipping at the soft and supple skin. The hips before you buck up making you chuckle.

“Someone’s impatient,” you tease.

“Shut up and keep going,”

You nod and get back to work. You start to suck on the inside of her thigh but get quickly shot down.

“No marks.”

“Sorry…”

You redeem yourself by kissing her clit- beginning the start of your new addiction. As you inhale her scent, you can feel the snap of the world finally falling into place. Time stops for just a second as a new found clarity lifts the heavy fog that had been plaguing you since the breakup. Waves of pleasure and need flood your system as the synapses in your brain start rapid firing.  

You then lick her clit and wrap your lips around her bud. Her taste is somewhere between heaven and sin- you want to bask in the feeling forever. 

“Oh fuck,” Scarlet Witch moans loudly.

You hum against her clit and start devouring her. Exploring every nook and cranny, leaving nothing untouched. Her lips are so smooth… You want it all, everything and anything she was willing to give you would take. An all-consuming need takes over.

“Please,” her voice almost a whimper.

You look up at her for a second. Her back is arching off the table she’s lying on, causing her stomach to be fully pressed against the wall that exposes her and hides her all at the same time. You reach under and grip her ass and pull so her pussy is right against your face. You probe your tongue inside her as you tease the rim of her entrance. The loud moan that follows tells you all you need to know.

After coating her in your saliva and her own juices, your tongue disconnects from her hole. A loud whimper escapes her lips, but just as quickly as your tongue left your fingers replace it.

“You’re so wet love, so soft and warm. I would live here if I could,”

All your tongues attention focuses on her clit. You swipe up and down, long and pressured licks from the bottom to the very top. As a surprise you wrap your lips around her clit and suck at random times, sometimes even nip to get her to let out louder noises. Despite all the fucking around you, all you can hear is her. It’s as if all your senses were tuned into her radio station.

“I-I’m close,” she says as your tongue swirls around her clit. You smirk and dive deeper into her ocean. You didn’t even realize you were stroking yourself until you felt that tight coil in your stomach. You look down for a brief second to see your cock rock hard, tip red and oozing precum.

“Hey don’t stop!”

“Sorry love,” you mumble before getting back to the task at hand. Her sweet moans egg you on as you try to get her back to where she was. Whatever you’re doing seems to be working, as the woman is a moaning mess. She may even be louder than the the woman Bucky is fucking. Her movements are iratic as she chases her high, trying to fuck herself on your mouth and on your fingers, not knowing which to commit to.

“I’m going to cum, please.. Oh fuck,” Scarlet Witch moans out as her orgasm washes over her. Her hole clenches around your fingers, giving you a sweet little preview as to what’s to come next. Your fingers and tongue work her through her high.

You are nervous to look down, half expecting your cum to be all over the wall. Instead, your tip is cherry red, shaft harder than rock, and balls bluer than 

You slowly stand up and push your pants down, letting them fall to your ankles.

“Are you ready for me?”

“So ready,”

You lift her legs up so they are leaning against your chest and shoulders. You line yourself up with her entrance and drag the tip along her strip teasingly before tapping the head of of your cock aginst her pussy.

“Please darlin,” Scarlet Witch whimpers.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you say as you start to enter her.

“Holy shit,” both of your moans sync as you connect as one. You start to move, eager to chase your high, when you feel her walls clench tightly around you, not allowing you to move further.

“Wait just a second there cowboy.. I need to adjust,” Scarlet Witch says nervously.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but that isn’t even half of it…”

“Then I really don’t think you would have fit if you hadn’t just eaten me out. To be honest, I think you’re the biggest I’ve ever had.” You feel your cheeks warm up and your chest puff out as her praise sings in your ears.

“Keep talking like that and you might not be able to walk after I’m through with you,” you say with a new found confidence.

“Promise or threat,”

“Both.”

“Don’t start something you can’t finish Badge,”

“I promise we’ll both be finishing multiple times,” you tease. You rock your hips slowly, working her through the new stretch. You can’t see it, but you can hear her nails scraping across the table as you push yourself further into her.

“You’re doing so well baby. You’re almost there, just a little bit more,” 

You can feel her muscles start to relax a little more, allowing you to be fully sheathed inside her.

“F-fuck, I swear this is the best pussy I’ve ever felt.” Scarlet Witch lets out a small giggle.

“It’s fucking true,” you say as you start to move inside her. Her core is as warm as a summer’s day and softer than freshly dried flannel sheets. You fit perfectly inside her, like you were molded just to please her and she to please you. Soft little moans escape her mouth, matching the rhythm you set. Your hips snap against hers as you slide in and out of her over and over again, sometimes almost pulling all the way out just to slam back into her. The table shakes as your pace starts to quicken and your thrusts become harder. Damn, you bet her boobs look absolutely incredible bouncing as you fuck her.

“Don’t stop…” her voice somewhere between a whisper and a whimper. You bite your lip to muffle the little groans and moans that are desperately trying to escape. Despite being lost in the most delicious pussy you’ve ever had, the small piece of you remembers that your coworkers are all around you. Her moans pull you back into the haze.

You watch as your cock gets engulfed by her, taking every inch of you. The noises your fluids make mixed could be sold as some sort of porn ASMR. You think you’re in love. You place your hand on the bulge on her stomach.

“Feel that little witch? That’s me. Fucking and filling you so well,”

“I’m close, please,” she begs.

“Where do you want me? I don’t think I’m going to last much longer after you cum.” You press your head against the only thing dividing you from everything you’ve ever dreamed of. You wish it was her; her stomach, her forehead, her chest, anything other than this damn wall.

“Cum inside me,”

Now you know you’re in love.

You grab her hips to keep her in place as you thrust into her, harder and harder. You were going to give Bucky a run for his money for who makes the wall shake more. 

The light illuminates the glossy shine from the sweat that covers both of your bodies. You’ve never fucked a girl like this before and you don’t think you could ever replicate this with anyone else. Everything about her makes you feel like you’re going insane. 

“Fuck, little witch I’m going to cum,” you groan. Your movement becomes more erratic than your breathing as you feel the all-too-familiar feeling.

“Please, I need it. I need you to fill me up. Mark me. Claim me.”

Those words break all resolve and release you from the shackles holding you back. With one final thrust, you bury yourself completely inside her as you paint her walls white with your release. Without warning you feel her walls consulse around your cock, causing you to cum even more. Both of you let out throaty moans. Her walls clench around you, locking you in place as the waves of her orgasm wash over her. Every movement and sound she makes can be felt by you. You could see the stars and every galaxy that ever was.

You don’t think you have any cum left inside you by the time she’s done. Like a dog, you’re panting, sweat dripping off your face onto her soft stomach.

“That was…”

“The best I’ve ever had,” she whispers. The smile on your face is large enough to be seen from outer space.

As you stand back up,  you feel yourself slipping out of her. Your eyes hypnotised by the sight of cum dripping out of her. You feel yourself twitch again at the sight. You pull yourself fully from her and scoop up whatever cum you can onto your tip and push it back into her. Another moan escapes from both of you.

“Easy there, tiger,” her laugh breathy and tired.

“How can I keep you the whole night?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like… I want to be with you all night or however long your shift is,”

“I work 4 hours tonight, and your buddy over there only paid for an hour… so you’d have to pay for 3 more,”

“Done,”

“I don’t think you understand-”

“I don’t care. I got the money if that’s what’s holding you back. I know it isn’t the sex,”

“Then I’m all yours tonight.” The smile quickly turned into a smirk. Round 2 of as many as you could fit into the remaining hours was about to start.

One by one, your friends leave, giving you a salute as they bid you farewell. You barely register their gestures and just wave them off. Thor and Steve say something, but again, you don’t care. Nothing in this world is worth your attention when you have the Scarlet Witch wrapped around your cock.

By the end of your time, she had come at least 10 times and you close to 6. You had tried as many positions as the wall would allow and switched between eating her out, fucking her, and fingering her. Nothing was enough for your insatiable appetite. She is more potent than heroin, leaving you bound to spend forever chasing an impossible high.

Before leaving the Darkhold, you set up another appointment with her 2 weeks from now. The first note page in your little booklet is dedicated to her. In between orgasms, you got to know her better, learning that she worked a full-time job and Black Widow was the one who suggested she make some extra cash working here. You were able to coax out her birth month and favorite color color too. If it weren’t for the rules, you would’ve spent the rest of the night learning everything you could. 

Now, as you walked back to the office building, the outside world felt dark and cruel compared to the warmth and comfort of the last 4 hours. The cool temperatures did nothing to dampen the fire engulfing you. This experience is the closest thing you could compare to what people describe when speaking about nirvana. If she truly is a witch, you'd happily stay under her spell for the rest of your life.

Helloooooooo…. so I stepped out of my comfort zone a little and wrote in second person while in present tense. I am not very good at that so if there are any tense switches I apologize. We may go back in and change it all to past. Okiiie byeee

“How about we don’t talk about my ex while we do this? Huh?” Natasha mumbles back against your lips her hands finally undoing your trousers and pulling them off of your hips, watching them fall to the ground. 

“Now, you either fuck me or you can go back to the party, your choice. I know which one I’d prefer…” Natasha says as she takes a step back, pulling her dress off of herself and leaving her standing in white lacy lingerie. 

You don't bother answering, you simply take a step forward, your hands falling on her waist as you pull her into yourself and meet her lips.

Both of your hands roam each other's bodies, your hands squeezing her breasts while hers go for your crotch. 

“Fuck, you're so beautiful.” You moan as you start moving your hands south, the wetness already clinging to her panties. Your underwear becomes tighter having to accommodate your length. 

Natasha makes quick work pulling your boxers down, your member standing at attention as she takes off her lingerie at record speed. Pulling you down onto the bed leaving you to lay on top of her, her legs instantly surrounding your waist as your member rubs against her wet, slick folds. You both can't stop the moans falling from your lips.

“Now fuck me…” Natasha smirks, her legs tightening around you as you waste no time entering her.

“Shit!” You practically shout, her wet walls tightly contracting around you to accommodate your length. You press your hips slowly against her own, letting her get used to your size before she whimpers and nods her head for you to finally move. 

Natasha’s moans drown out your own, pure pornographic screams falling from her lips as your hips move at an animalistic pace. You’ve wanted this since the moment you laid eyes on her but she had been taken, but now your time is finally here after her breakup only two weeks ago. You should feel guilty, but with the moans falling from her lips, her nails scratching down your back and the way she clenches around you so hard that you can hardly pull out, the guilt leaves you as you completely become focused on her. 

“FUCK-ing hell, you feel so good!” Natasha screams, her body stilling before she falls over the edge, her body then convulsing as she lets go. You slow your thrusts letting her ride her high before you pull out and sit on your heels, watching her cum drip down herself. 

Your member throbs, begging for release. You need to cum. 

Natasha’s eyes meet yours before she smirks, rolling over onto her stomach, and moving to arch her back while on her knees and turning her head to you. 

“What are you waiting for?” She husks, arousal swirling in her eyes as she wiggles her ass towards you. You jump on her instantly. Filling her whole while grabbing her hips and pulling her down hard onto yourself over and over to meet your thrusts. You won't last long, not with this view. Not with your hands gripping her hips so tightly you're sure that you're going to leave bruises. Her curves perfect as you get lost in them. 

One of your hands leaves her hip, grabbing her hair to pull her back flush against your chest. Your hand moves to her neck to hold her against you securely. Her head leans against your neck, her mouth right next to your ear, moans and gasps leaving her lips only driving you crazy. 

“Natasha?” Someone speaks through the door, your thrusts stopping for a second before you recognize the voice. Her ex. 

“Answer her.” You whisper to her, your hips starting to move again as she shakes her head no.

“Answer her, or I stop.” Your hand tightens around her neck, her eyes bore into yours as she clenches around you over the threat. 

“Yeah?” Natasha says shakily, her mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips start moving again. 

“Good girl.” You whisper. Her eyes roll into the back of her head in response.

“Can we talk? Please?” Natasha's head lulls to the side, her teeth biting into your neck to hide another moan from a hard thrust she is given. 

“Now isn’t a good time!” She shouts back. A moan slips through as she speaks. 

“Natasha, are you okay?” Her ex says again, but Natasha can’t respond, too lost in the pleasure she is receiving when your hand leaves her neck and moves to her clit, rubbing hard circles onto her as you finally near your own orgasm, wanting her to fall apart with you. 

“Ugh, Fuckkkk, I’m-I’m fine!” Natasha moans, no longer caring about being heard through the door. 

“You dirty fucking girl. You want her to know someone else is in here fucking you, don't you? I bet she never made you feel like this, huh? Couldn't fuck you as well as I am?” You moan against her neck, letting your teeth sink into her and sucking, making sure to leave your mark.

“No, she didn’t! Shit! I’m gonna cum!” Natasha breathes into the room, your thumb speeding up on her clit as you somehow get your thrusts to speed up even more as you near the edge yourself.

“Natasha! I’m coming in!” The door bursts open. 

Natasha’s head turns towards the door, her body convulsing as you meet her hips a final time, your own orgasm flashing through you as you paint her walls white, your cock throbbing inside her, her cunt squeezing you for every last drop as her ex stands at the door staring at Natasha falling apart for you. 

You blink and her ex is gone, door wide open as your body falls back against your heels, Natasha's body moving with yours as she sits comfortably on your cock as she continues to squeeze you tightly, making your dick hard all over again. A groan falls from both of your lips as you pant into the room. 

“Well, that was…HA, well.” You mumble. Your breathing all over the place over what just happened. 

“That, that was…wow…” Natasha whispers against your neck.

You go to move her off you, worried about how she might be feeling over everything that has just happened. But you stop when Natasha turns her head, her mouth moving over yours as she slips her tongue into your mouth, one of her hands resting on the back of your head to hold you against her, while her hips slowly start to grind down on you.

The first time Natasha met you, she knew she was in love with you. Which really sucked for her because you were the type of person who didn’t look at her twice. You were constantly surrounded by people who were prettier, better, and more important than her. Natasha felt so insignificant around you, and whenever she tried to make her presence known, it always ended in a colossal and embarrassing failure.

She had exactly three conversations with you. The first was just an exchange of names, so she didn’t count that. But it was the first time she got to touch your hand and look into your eyes, and she almost physically fell for you right there.

The second conversation was at the dining hall’s salad bar, where the two of you had reached for the tongs to the romaine at the same time. You had insisted she go first, and Natasha had tried to make a joke about lettuce that fell so short it kept her up for three nights. 

The third conversation took place on a basketball court, where you were playing a scrimmage with a few friends. Natasha emboldened herself to approach, which she immediately regretted when you passed her the ball and asked if she could sink a shot from the three-point line. She stumbled through a pickup line about if you could show her, but you and your friends had only laughed. Naturally, she had missed, and she went home in shame, promising to never speak to you in front of others again.

She always told herself that if she had 15 minutes alone with you, she could get you to give her a chance. But getting those 15 minutes was an impossible task in itself.

Or so she thought.

She finds you sitting alone in the common room, staring at the television, but you hardly look interested in the James Bond movie playing.

Fifteen.

“Y/N?” Natasha whispers. Your head shifts in her direction, but you don’t say anything to acknowledge her. “Is anyone sitting with you?” You grunt, which Natasha cannot determine as a definitive yes or no. “Can I sit with you?” She holds her breath, surprised by her own confidence but fully expecting a denial.

“Sure,” you say, to her shock.

Natasha rounds the couch. You make no effort to move and she settles on the cushion next to you.

Fourteen.

She isn’t sure what to say next. You seem incredibly absorbed in the movie, and she’s nervous to break your focus.

“Natasha,” you say, still not looking at her. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a pretty name. For a pretty woman.”

Natasha’s heart thunders in her chest. Did she hear you correctly? “You think I’m pretty?” she asks.

“I think you’re beautiful.” You look her in the eye now, and Natasha has to catch herself before she falls off the couch.

“I…Um…Wow. Thank you. That’s…really nice of you to say,” she stammers.

“I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”

Thirteen.

Natasha stares at you, trying to read your passive expression. Maybe you were just messing with her, or took a bet from your friends to flirt with her. No one–not even Bruce–wanted her. So why would you? 

“You’re especially cute when you’re nervous,” you say.

“Nervous? I’m not–”

You chuckle. “I know the effect I have on you. And most people. But I hardly notice any of them when you’re around me.”

Natasha feels like she’s in a dream. Are you really saying these words to her? And you mean every one of them? She pinches her thigh, but the sting doesn’t do much to clear her head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” she admits in a rush.

“Is that so?” Your right eyebrow lifts and Natasha squeezes her thighs together subtly. “I never approached you first because…well, I didn’t think you’d be able to handle me.”

Twelve.

Natasha leans forward, resting her hand lightly on your upper thigh. She’s determined to prove you wrong if that’s the only thing she succeeds in tonight. “And what makes you think that?”

Your expression changes to one of surprise. “You’re cute, but way too innocent–” The words die in your throat when her hand slides up to cup the bulge in your sweatpants. 

“You were saying?” she says, turning her voice into a huskier tone. 

“Natasha,” you grunt, and she can tell you’re fighting to keep your hips pinned to the couch, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I don’t plan on it.” She grips onto you and wonders if the fabric is thin enough for you to feel the heat of her palm. 

“Someone can walk in at any moment,” you warn her.

“Good. Then they can see you’ve always been mine the whole time.” She feels you twitch and start to harden. She wonders if she can get you off with her words alone, but quickly decides she’d much rather have you inside her instead. 

Eleven.

“I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” you comment. 

“What do you know about me? Besides my name,” she counters.

“That you’re awful at flirting–oh shit.” Natasha pushes her hand past the waistband of your sweatpants and it closes around your hot and hard flesh. She rubs you up and down, her thumb brushing the underside of your tip with every stroke and she grins when she starts to see your thighs tremble. “You ever done this before?” you gasp, your hips rocking off the couch to push yourself through her hand. 

“You tell me, baby.” 

You grunt at the term of endearment. “Not quite what I expected from you,” you say. 

“In a good or bad way?”

“Hmm, well…” You look down at your crotch, frowning because you can’t see any of the action under your sweatpants. Natasha uses her free hand and tugs them down, and you lift your butt up to slide them to your knees. Your cock bobs out and Natasha subconsciously licks her lips, knowing she is that much closer to having you the way she always dreamed of. “Are you gonna keep staring at it or do something with it?” you ask suddenly.

Ten.

“I don’t want you finishing too early,” Natasha says, right as a bead of pre-cum leaks out of your dick.  

“I won’t,” you say, although for once, your voice lacks confidence.

“I bet you can’t last two minutes in me.”

Your eyes narrow at the challenge. “And what if I can?”

“Then I’ll let you take me back to your room and fuck me any way you want.”

You inhale sharply at the filthy thoughts her words inspire. 

“But if you can’t…” Natasha squeezes your cock for emphasis, “Then I get take you to my room and fuck you any way I want.”

You snort. “That’s not really a bad deal either way.”

“You’ve hardly seen what I can do,” Natasha warns.

“So show me more.”

Nine.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Natasha leans over and takes the head of your cock in her mouth.

“Goddamn,” you mutter, pumping your hips up into the new heat of her mouth. You had severely misjudged Natasha in her innocence, but you weren’t upset to be wrong. Her tongue flicks against your tip and you’re practically squirming in your seat when she presses down and takes you into her throat.  

“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” you pant, your hands coming to the back of Natasha’s head and gently pushing on it to keep her in place. “This is hardly fair,” you whine.

Natasha releases your cock and it slaps against your stomach, glistening with her saliva and your pre-cum. “You want me to stop?” she asks.

“Not really.”

Eight.

“Then be quiet,” she says, and her dominance surprises you. It also makes you even harder, which you didn’t know was possible at this stage anymore. “Besides, we aren’t even at the main event yet.”

“Main event?” You have to bite your lip to distract yourself as her mouth descends on you again. You squeeze the muscles in your thighs to keep them grounded, not wanting to show her how close you are. 

“Mhmm,” she mumbles around your cock, and the vibrations have you holding on the couch cushions for dear life. The pounding between your legs heightens, spurred on by the fact that the prettiest girl around has her head in your lap, her mouth bobbing frantically up and down your dick. 

Seven.

“You’re cheating,” you whine, but you totally love it as you jog your hips up a few times. 

“I’m what?” Natasha draws back fully and the cold air that hits your cock makes it visibly twitch. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you mutter. “Never mind, baby. Just put your mouth back and–”

“No,” Natasha says, and you shrink back into the cushions just a little. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut like she said. “I can tell you’re about to cum, and I don’t want you finishing in my mouth.”

“Oh.” Somehow, despite every skill she’s just showed you, you’re surprised she won’t swallow. But you won’t hold it against her. She’s already doing better than most of the girls that sleep with you.

Six.

Natasha leans towards your face, her lips brushing your cheek on her way to your ear. “I want you to finish in my pussy,” she whispers, and the words alone nearly send you over the edge. 

“Oh.” You don’t even realize you’ve reached down to grip the base of your cock, squeezing hard to quite literally prevent yourself from finishing all over your sweatpants. 

“But…I don’t know if you can last that much longer,” Natasha says, pulling away from you. 

“Yes, yes, I can,” you plead. You would do everything in your power to please and if you couldn’t…what was really the worst that could happen? 

“Hmm.” Natasha tilts her head, as if seriously contemplating ending things with you right here.

Five.

“You started this,” you protest. “You can’t leave me hanging.” Literally.

“I didn’t expect you to be so whiny,” she says.

“I didn’t expect you to be this mean,” you counter.

Natasha chuckles. “And you’re the one who said I couldn’t handle you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, happy to eat your words if she’ll ride you. Natasha stands up, and for a moment you think she’s going to walk out on you, but she shimmies down her jeans and you drool at the sight of her lacey red panties. You drop your sweatpants to your ankles so you have more room to move as Natasha swings her leg over your waist.

Four.

You can see the damp patch of her arousal and it hardens you further to see she’s just as excited as you are. 

“Two minutes,” she says, humping you slowly. 

“Easy,” you promise, but you already know you’re going to lose. You reach for her hips, happy that she doesn’t swat you away, and pull her towards yourself until her stomach presses against your cock.

At first, you had been genuinely concerned that someone would walk in on the two of you, but now you couldn’t care less. You were about to get with the Natasha Romanoff, someone your friends had told you would be untouchable. 

Your hands wrap around to her butt and squeeze teasingly. “I’m ready for you,” you remind her, as if she forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Three.

“I can see that.” She reaches down to grab your cock and drags it along the wet patch of her panties. You groan and dig your fingers harder into her butt. She was far more of a tease than you had ever imagined.

“Come on, baby,” you beg as your cock rubs against the smooth fabric of her panties.

Natasha pulls her panties to the side to reveal her glistening center. Your eyes widen and your hips jerk up to brush through her wetness. She puts one hand on her shoulder to steady herself and uses the other to finger herself. The slick noises she makes are downright sinful and you’re practically vibrating with excitement.

“Let me,” you say, eager to get any part of you inside her and trying to replace her fingers with your own. 

“I think I’m ready,” she says, lifting herself up high enough to position the head of your cock with her opening.

Two. 

Both of you inhale sharply at the first contact. You’re certain you’ve left your marks on Natasha’s butt as she slowly sinks down, taking your entire length in her molten heat.

“Fuck, oh, fuck,” you gasp as you feel yourself twitching inside of her. Natasha rests on your thighs and rocks back and forth. A moan rips out of your throat and your head falls back on the couch. The tightness surrounding your cock is too much. 

“Don’t let me down,” Natasha teases, raising a few inches and falling back down again. Her hand slips around your throat possessively, but even that isn’t enough to bring you back from the brink.

Your bodies move together in a calm rhythm that does not match the emotions racing inside of you. While part of you wants to jackhammer into her like an animal, part of you also wants this feeling to last as long as possible.

Which, to be perfectly honest, wasn’t going to be more than another minute. 

“Do I feel good?” Natasha whispers, threading her fingers in your hair and pulling your head back so you have to look her in the eye as she fucks you.

“You feel perfect,” you grunt, your lower body starting to shake, but you give up trying to fight it off.

One.

“You’re lasting longer than I thought,” she hums, clenching around you with the tightness of a vice and you arch your chest into her, slipping your hands under her shirt to clutch at the warmth of her skin.

“Not for much longer,” you admit, feeling a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead. The band in your stomach finally snaps and your thighs lock in place as you spill your seed into her, but hardly feeling relieved. Natasha circles her hips to coax out every last drop, leaving you shaking and begging her to stop. 

“I think I won our bet,” she says, finally climbing off your cock. 

“Whatever,” you mutter, your cheeks tinged red. 

“I want to claim my prize now,” she continues, pulling her jeans back on and offering you her hand.

You don’t protest and go to follow her back to her room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thanks for ideas, anons! Hope you liked it. :)

you weren't lying - wanda has been stressed. the separation of the avengers, the exponential and unpredictable increase of her powers, the lack of public approval. but everything becomes a background whenever she's around you , especially when your tongue teases her nipples.

a needy whine escapes her mouth and she can feel your smug smile against her chest. wanda would have pinched you for being so cocky, but the tightening of the grip on her hips showed her that her sounds were affecting you as much as your touches dismantle her.

if you wished, you could prolong this. tease her endlessly just for the pressure of hearing her beg - and lord knows she would. hips already desperate, underwear so soaked she was shamelessly leaking through the fabric.

it was all your fault obviously. you were laying down together before, soft but bold and intimate touches while she talked about her week. you worked her up so naturally and so quickly that the offer of a stress relief would actually be her suggestion if you weren't quicker.

and you have always been so unfairly good at this. good with her, her body, her needs. your mouth move down her belly, licking and teasing all the way to where she needs the most. wanda's so responsive. she gasps in anticipation for every flick of your tongue, until she's panting, ready and impatience.

the reward is sweet. she's loud when she's desperate and Wanda is so desperate. she arches her back as your tongue finds her warm and wet through the fabric. your fingers are rushed, pulling her panties out of the way, you've finally lost that thin patience to just tease her. wanda maximoff is maddening, her scent, her sounds, her taste.

you moan as you eat her out. eagerly and hungry. you lick every corner, you tease her entrance, you flick her clit.

"ah, detka." wanda shouldn't try to speak now. She physically can't form any sentences that make sense at this point. she wants to ask for more, but you start sucking and all that leaves her lips are pathetic little whines. she wants to ask "faster" but your tongue goes deep inside as your hands hold her open and all she can do is choke on throat moan.

all lights in that messy motel room flicker, maybe the whole goddam city, when she's ready to fall over the edge. when she's ready to let go.

you pull away just to whisper "come for me, witchy" before resuming your movements and it doesn't take longer for her to do just that.

she sounds so beautiful, she looks breathtaking. chest heaving, a frown of pleasure. the sweetness of her wetness on your tongue.

you messily lick her clean, make her whine a little more. she gropes around on the bed until she reaches your hair, fingers running through the soft strands until she's gripping. her original intention was to pull you up to kiss you, but you start over.

Downstairs, the party was still in full swing. More people were arriving by the minute.

She checked her cell phone, where her last message said that you and Carol had already bought a refill of beer and were on your way back. So Wanda waited, until she was smiling instinctively when she saw your sister's truck park at the entrance to the dorms, and the two of you got out of the car together.

Some of the boys saw the beer coming and ran to help carry it, but Wanda bit back a smile when she noticed your lost figure, gazing around as if looking for someone. She pointed her phone down and took a single photo, which she forward to you right away. It only took a moment for you to smile and look up after you checked your phone and understood where she was. With her arms resting on your balcony, Wanda waved her fingers and watched you with a giggle as you hurried your way through the people to get inside and catch up with her.

Less than two minutes later, she heard the door, and decided to wait there, until she felt your arms wrap around her and her body immediately relax.

"Hey, babe." You greeted her sweetly, your hands slipping into the pockets of her jacket that covered the red party dress she'd borrowed from Natasha, her roommate. You peppered her face and neck with quick kisses, making her giggle and writhe with the tickling.

"Hey." She protested between laughs, ending up breathless when you kissed her suddenly. The warmth of your embrace made Wanda sigh, almost embarrassed by how weak her knees felt. When you pulled away, she felt her face flush a little at your adoring gaze. "I missed you."

"And I was only gone for 20 minutes, huh?" You teased, managing an eye roll and a giggle.

"Idiot." She countered with fake annoyance. "I was talking about our vacations, obviously."

You chuckle, kissing her cheek again. "I know, I'm just teasing you." You mumble, adjusting your hands inside your pockets and putting a little more weight against her so that she has to lean on the counter. Wanda gasps softly as she feels something else. "It took me a little longer to get back because I went to get a surprise for you. Something I forgot at Carol's apartment when we got back from the airport." Wanda knows exactly what you're talking about. The hardness rubbing against her was a gift you bought together last Valentine's Day. In fact, it was a big joke - a dare game that took couples to a sex shop - but it ended up becoming a frequently used item in your relationship. She gasped at the fit, feeling her body warm and you hadn't even done anything more than rub the strap against her a bit. With her hands firmly on the balcony, she felt her face burn as she leaned back towards you and heard you chuckle hoarsely behind her.

"Look at you." You clicked your tongue, hands firmly on her hips. Wanda caught her breath without realizing it. "Offering yourself like that..." Your hips moved against hers in a torturously slow rhythm that made her gasp, her trembling fingers gripping the edge until they turned white with the force she was putting into it. Your movements didn't stop, but they became rough enough for Wanda to bite a moan with each thrust. When your hands pulled her dress up, and you discovered her lack of underwear, it was your turn to moan. "Holy fuck, Wanda."

You groaned in her ear, your hands shaking a little with excitement as you undid your belt and pulled the toy out. Wanda held her breath, suddenly remembering where she was. She looked down at the busy street and stifled a moan as you entered her without warning, and also without difficulty. The plastic cock slid easily between her soaking wet cunt, and you held her in place as she got used to the sensation.

Resting your face on her shoulder, you rest your hands above hers on the balcony, a smile playing on your lips.

"There you go, now we just look like two snuggled girlfriends." You say, lacing your fingers together before moving your hips upward. Wanda chokes on a whimper, and you shush her slightly, a sadistic giggle escaping. "Be careful, baby. The party is loud, but not too loud. If you start whining like a desperate little slut, people will notice. Maybe I'll tell them how soaked you are so they pity you."

As if the dirty talk wasn't enough to drive her insane, you still make a point of moving your hips slowly, and Wanda blushes when she hears the low sound of the wet friction of the toy inside her.

Completely pressed between the balcony and your body, she struggles to keep still. It's not an easy job at all.

You release one of her hands to slide your fingers between her thighs and play with her clit. Wanda’s knees give way, and she’s grateful for the balcony or she would have fallen to the floor. You breathe in the intoxicating scent of her shampoo, starting a rough peace inside her again as you pinch her hardened bud and turn her into a puddle of arousal and whimpers.

“Please don’t stop, I’m almost…” She tries to formulate a coherent request, having to resist the urge to lay her head against the balcony and just let you fuck her however you want. Suddenly, your movements are stopping and she groans in protest, a comment about promising to behave on the tip of her tongue when she realizes that you’ve moved your other hand away from her hip and are waving it down.

Clint Barton’s grinning, drunken face enters her field of vision as she follows your gaze.

“You’re missing the whole party, girls!” Clint yells, a beer in his hands. “Get down here!”

Your hips have stopped moving, and Wanda feels very aware that she’s dripping down her thighs while forcing normalcy on her friend.

“In a minute, Barton!” You shout back, before tilting your mouth toward hers. “Or less.” You tease in a whisper, and Wanda shudders against you, completely forgetting about Clint Barton’s existence as she thrusts her hips back at you. With a grunt, you seem to forget too, and luckily, Clint’ is drunk enough to stop annoying you two, and Wanda is rewarded with hard thrusts that knock her out of orbit. “Fine, I’ll give you what you want.” You scoffed through your teeth, the effort of slamming your hips against hers so roughly leaving you out of breath. Wanda would have screamed, but your hand covered her mouth and stifled any sound. If anyone dared to look up right now, they would know exactly what you were doing, but neither of you gave a damn. Especially since Wanda was coming the next minute, shaking terribly against you and whimpering against your hand.

With the toy soaked, you stayed inside her while she calmed down until you could finally kiss her.

"I'd say that's a decent welcome present."

She chuckles softly, unable to resist the urge to continue grinding gently against the toy you hadn't removed. "I literally fucked you in the auditorium yesterday after the homecoming performance, perv." She snaps back, and you laugh, nuzzling her nose against yours. 

"Yeah, but that was a speech gift. I was so hot on stage that you couldn't wait to get in my pants." Wanda chuckles, rolling her eyes. 

"You're getting too cocky." She pulls herself out, ignoring your soft protest or how your eyes drop to the toy glistening with her cum between you. "I think I should change that, balance things out before you forget your place." 

"My place?" You challenge, raising an eyebrow, but Wanda grabs your face and kisses you hard enough to make you stumble a little. Surprised by her attitude, you can't resist the push and end up with your back pressed against the balcony door. She breaks the kiss with a bite that makes you moan. As dilated irises glare at you mischievously, you feel your body shiver. Wanda smiles innocently as she explains, "On your knees for me, of course."

Mornings were always a blessing for you, especially after falling in love. Every morning you get the pleasure of waking up to the most beautiful woman in the world.

Jenna was always so intriguing to you. Her obsequious personality made for a very kind yet incredibly humorous aura that she produced. She always had something new and complimentary to say about you, in which made you all giddy and warm.

But under all the glowing comments she had, there was a peaceful dove that just needed you and your comfort. You were the part of Jenna that she was missing, and she didn’t even know it.

Every morning was the same for the two of you. Jenna would always be up first, seeing that you easily fall asleep in the right conditions. Her morning consisted of getting up, admiring how ethereal you looked in the glowing sun, then heading to the bathroom to do her business and take a shower.

Currently, that’s what she was planning on doing. She had used the toilet and was now looking for her towel so she could do her daily morning shower, but she just couldn’t find it.

“Fuck.” Jenna quietly cursed when she accidentally knocked a basket of laundry over.

You were an extremely light sleeper, but was weirdly a night-owl. Still, any kind of noise would stir you awake and that was the last thing she wanted to do since you required sleep to preform the best.

Holding her breath, she looked over to you to see if you woke up; thankfully you didn’t, but you did in fact roll over onto your side and was now spooning Jenna’s pillow.

She internally sighed in relief and went to clean up the spilled laundry. Once finished, she took the extra towel that was in the pile and went to go prepare for her warm deluge.

Carefully, as to not make noise, she started the shower to let it get warm while she brushed her hair to remove any unwanted knots. As she detangled her locks, she failed to notice the presence of her awakened girlfriend; that was until you flipped her around and sat her on the counter.

“Jesus babe!” She squealed, dropping the brush in surprise, “You fucking scared me.”

You hummed, smile gracing your face as you moved in to kiss her. Your lips locked with hers in a tender embrace, your hands squeezing her hips as she cupped your face.

“Mmm good morning.” You parted from her to say before going back in for another kiss.

She sighed against you, her mouth opening slightly so you could infiltrate her with your tongue. You pushed yourself flush against her as her legs wrapped around your waist, a small mewl escaping her throat as you rubbed your hands up and down her sides.

“Y/N…the shower.” She said breathlessly as your lips connected with her neck.

“It’s running, I know.” You replied, nuzzling your face against her skin.

“It’s hot..”

“Shhh…”

“But I need to take a shower-”

“Stop.” You whispered, your hands finding their way under her oversized shirt to pull at the hem of her underwear.

She lifted her hips to help you pull the article off, laughing as you stuffed them a pocket of your sweatpants. You smiled and glanced up at her with a chuckle; then you leaned down and spread her legs open.

Your delve was soft and loving, and the way you held her made her feel oh so cared for. Your hands gripped her thighs and gently squeezed, letting her know it was okay to let go whenever she was ready to.

Her hand was in your hair, threaded into the thick locks that she loved oh so much. Shaky, weak breaths came through her parted lips as you ate her out gently. You were hungry, clearly, but was so kind and patient with Jenna anyway because you knew that was what she liked.

Her orgasm came harder than expected, her hips bucking up and down as she came onto your face. You tapped her leg, a sign of appreciation and approval, and proceeded to carefully lick her clean.

“Honey…” Jenna pleaded, grasping your hand to pull you up to her.

You laughed, infectious and sunny, and kissed her nose happily. Your lower jaw was covered in her slick but she didn’t mind in the slightest; in fact she grabbed a hand towel and did her best to wipe it off, all while you both giggled like young school girls.

After cleaning your face, you tugged your clothes off and kicked them into the bedroom, throwing her discarded shirt along with them. You then helped her up and brought her in to the shower with you, gasping slightly at the water hitting your back.

“Too hot?” She questioned, reaching behind you for her shampoo.

“No it’s fine, I was just surprised.” You replied, kissing her shoulder as she squeezed some shampoo into her hair.

“Wash yourself.” She stated, handing you the bottle before she began to scrub her hair clean of dirt.

You glanced at the bottle, looked down at her, and put it back on the shelf. She quirked an eyebrow but didn’t protest, so she moved you aside to switch places so she could rinse her hair out.

“You are so beautiful.” You purred, a sudden new lust clouding your eyes, “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Why thank you, you’re pretty cool yourself.” She shot back, rubbing her hands along her body as she rid her skin of any unwanted grime.

“I’m so lucky to be able to hold you.” You said, taking her wet hands in your own.

“As am I…” She quipped hesitantly, eyeing you up carefully.

“To kiss you.” Your lips landed on her cheek.

“To care for you.” Your hands slid down and cupped her ass.

“To fuck you.” You growled, pulling her into your chest.

“Oh…baby.” Jenna groaned, putting one of her hands on your chest.

You licked your lips before suddenly picking her up again and leaning her up against the wall. She glared down at you, a warning look on her face that was telling you to slow down.

“Baby.” She said more firmly.

“Relax, I got you.” You said while reaching outside of the shower curtain to grab something.

She watched with wide eyes as you retrieved a large strap-on, it was grooved with faux veins and was fully see-through, your favorite one. You smiled giddily, biting your lip as you hooked the harness around your waist.

“You planned this, you sneaky little..”

“Hush up, ‘m gonna make you feel good.” You hummed before lifting her legs to rest on your shoulders.

The tip of the faux cock pushed against her entrance, ever so barely slipping in as she watched in anticipation. Jenna’s eyes scanned your face as you slowly entered her, stretching her out all while she whimpered in need.

“God you are so tight.” You purred, pressing yourself against her as she was finally full.

She whined sadly, trying to move her hips for some sort of friction but was denied. You chuckled at her little attitude, nipping her cheek with your teeth before roughly thrusting against her.

“Mmph! God Y/N!” She moaned, throwing her head back as you gyrated yourself into her.

Your thrusts were even and quick, the pace you set was just perfect for her bubbly need of being broken in. She felt the grooves and the veins, the way they rubbed on her walls and stretched her so far was impressively perfect.

You hissed in satisfaction, ruthlessly plowing into her as a means to satiate your ravishing appetite, and oh god were you feasting.

She was always enough for you, wether it was a long day after work or if you just needed to let your frustrations go, she was always the thing you craved for.

“Babe, babe slow down.” Jenna keened, reaching down to place her hand on your stomach.

Your abs flexed under her fingers as your hips thrusted into hers, both of your skin covered in water and mixed juices. A pleased sob passed her lips but was immediately muffled by you shoving your lips against hers.

Her eyes fluttered shut as her orgasm washed over her, covering the strap-on in a sticky, off-white substance. You hummed in approval, holding her hips tight against your own as you helped her calm down.

“Fuck…” She exclaimed breathlessly, her chest rising and falling fast.

“You okay?” You asked softly, brushing a lock of wet hair out of her face.

“Mhm.”

She smiled, genuine and real, and let her forehead lean on yours. Always, without fail, Jenna would do that action after each time you had sex. She would let you hold her close, relishing in the soft side you showed to only her.

“The shower is still running.” You noted, gazing into her eyes.

“I know.” She replied, not moving an inch.

“The water bill is gonna suffer.”

“I can pay, it doesn’t hurt me to.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, pecking her lips as you both enjoyed each others presence in the morning hue.

———————

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