#agatha harkness!reader

[sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns]

Hell of a summer (what songs I think match the vibe) (part 2)

Movie summary…

Y/n L/n

[reading-rainforest]

[meshla-cyarika]

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

Writing fanfiction isn't enough anymore I need that character to kiss me breathless

[multifandominfj]

[sapphosclosefriend]

This is the outfit of a lesbian who made so many women realize they were gay back then

[lacy-oh-lacy]

I could take every witch in the MCU (not in a fight)

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home from college for the weekend but your parents forgot and you are locked out of the house. Luckily your neighbour finds you and they let you stay at theirs

-OR-

You think the neighbours are MILFs and the evening is filled with flirting and then you get to be fucked by each of them and then by both of them.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, small mention of Mommy kink, strap-on use, oral, there might be more idk it's very horny

Words: 4.6k of pure horniness

A/N: I think I blacked out while writing this, its so horny. It's inspired by this request and hasn't even been proofread yet so enjoy the horny mess of it

Tagging @aceday because I said I would

AO3 | Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Masterlist

The rain falls in relentless sheets, soaking through your jacket, and the rest of your clothes, for that matter. Each step squelches as you trudge the familiar path from the train station to your parents’ house. By the time you reach the front door, your teeth are chattering, and your clothes cling damply to your skin. A sigh escapes your lips as you grasp the handle and pull—only to find it locked. Your heart sinks.

The memory hits you like a slap: the locks were changed after they had a break-in a few months ago. Of course, you’ve forgotten to get a new key. Fumbling through your bag, you pray for some miracle, some overlooked backdoor key, but your search turns up nothing except your phone. A quick glance at the screen confirms no messages from your parents and no backup plan. Frustration mingles with despair as you stand shivering, wondering what to do next.

Footsteps break through the downpour, and you turn to see Agatha, your parents’ neighbour, crossing her lawn towards you. You’ve exchanged pleasantries with her and her wife, Rio, a few times during your trips home from college. They’re always friendly, but you’ve never spoken beyond casual greetings. That hasn’t stopped you from admiring them, though—two stunning women, each with their own magnetic charm. And yes, you’ve labelled them MILFs in your mind more than once. Their son, Nicholas, is long gone from the nest, leaving the two women to embody a kind of confident, enviable domesticity.

Agatha snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts with a two short words. “Locked out?” Her voice is smooth, with a hint of amusement as she tilts her head and surveys you.

You open your mouth to respond, but your gaze catches on her appearance. She’s wearing tight black leggings that cling to her toned legs and a cropped gym shirt that reveals her navel, where a bead of rainwater trails tantalisingly down her skin. Her wavy brown hair is piled into a loose bun, though a few strands cling to her flushed neck. A sheen of sweat glistens on her skin—evidence of a workout she must have just finished. Your thoughts betray you as your eyes linger on the curve of her waist, imagining what it might feel like to touch her. A sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

Her blue eyes lock onto yours, a curious smile curving her lips. “Hey, you alright?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You stammer an explanation about the locked door, your forgotten key, and your parents’ apparent absence. Agatha’s expression softens, and she motions towards her house with a nod. “Come on, you’re soaked to the bone. You’ll catch your death standing out here.”

For a moment, you hesitate. Accepting her offer feels… intimate somehow. But the alternative is staying in the cold rain, and the way her gaze lingers on you makes warmth crawl up your spine. You nod and follow her.

Agatha’s house is welcoming, with a faint scent of flowers mingling with something earthy and grounding. She grabs a towel from a nearby linen closet and tosses it to you with a playful grin. “Guest bathroom’s down here,” she says. “You’ve got two options: strip down and warm up, or stay wet and risk getting sick.”

Your eyes widen, startled by her bluntness. Agatha leans casually against the doorframe, smirking at your reaction. “Relax,” she teases. “I’ll get you something dry to wear.” And with that, she saunters away, not bothering to close the door fully behind her. Her confidence leaves you both flustered and intrigued.

Inside the bathroom, you peel off your soaked clothes, debating how much to remove. In the end, you leave your underwear on, wrapping yourself tightly in the towel. When Agatha returns, she hands you a pair of shorts and a blue plaid shirt. Her sharp eyes sweep over you, noting your wet underclothes with a tut. “All of it,” she says pointedly. “You’re dripping everywhere.” Before you can respond, she adds, “I’m off to shower. Rio should be back soon.” She turns and leaves, her movements fluid and deliberate, leaving the door ajar once more.

Feeling the weight of her words and gaze, you strip completely, your damp underwear joining the rest of your clothes in a soggy pile. You’re still mulling over what to do with them when the door opens suddenly. Rio steps in, her dark eyes widening as they land on you.

“Oh—sorry,” she says, though her gaze lingers a beat too long before she averts her eyes. “Didn’t know we had company. Agatha didn’t mention it.” Her tone is low and smooth, carrying a quiet amusement that makes your skin prickle.

You stammer an apology, clutching the towel back around you. Rio’s lips quirk upward in a faint smirk as she backs out of the bathroom, but not before you catch the way her gaze sweeps over you. Your heart pounds in your chest long after the door closes.

You quickly shower to warm up, but there’s no cleaning the thoughts inside your head. Memories of Rio’s lingering gaze replay in your mind, but they’re quickly overtaken by images of Agatha. You can’t help imagining what she looks like under the water, her skin glistening with steam, her hair sticking to her neck. The thought is startling, and you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the fantasy.

After calming your racing mind, you dress in the clothes Agatha left and leave the guest bathroom to find the two women.

You find them both in the kitchen; the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill that had soaked through your bones earlier. Agatha moves fluidly between the stove and counter, stirring something fragrant in a pot that smells like tomatoes, garlic, and fresh herbs. Rio, meanwhile, arranges a bouquet of vibrant flowers in a vase with meticulous care, her strong hands working delicately to adjust the stems.

It’s domestic, serene even, but there’s an undeniable electricity in the air—one you can’t ignore under the weight of their lingering glances.

Agatha’s grin spreads when she notices you lingering awkwardly near the door. “Looking good,” she says, her eyes flickering over the borrowed clothes. The oversized plaid shirt hangs slightly off your shoulder, and her gaze lingers on the exposed line of your clavicle.

You fidget, tugging the fabric up, but Agatha only smirks, stirring the pot with a deliberate slowness.

Rio rolls her eyes, though there’s a faint curve to her lips. “Ignore her,” she says, her voice laced with playful exasperation. “She loves making people squirm.”

You manage a sheepish laugh, but it does little to quell the heat climbing up your neck. Agatha recounts your lockout predicament to Rio with the same teasing edge, her tone carrying just enough detail to make your situation sound both pitiful and amusing.

Rio hums in understanding, sliding the last flower into place and stepping back to admire her work. “Stay for dinner,” she offers, her dark eyes soft with genuine warmth. “It’s the least we can do.”

Agatha winks at you over her shoulder. “Yeah, we can’t have you heading back out into the rain getting all wet again—the downpour outside hasn’t let up.”

You nod, accepting their offer, though the way they exchange glances—subtle but charged—makes your stomach twist with something you can’t quite name.

As you sit at the dining table, Rio who is opposite you, starts pouring red wine into three glasses; her movements fluid and confident. Agatha joins you a moment later, setting down plates of steaming pasta and sitting next to her wife. “Hope you like red,” she says, her teasing smile returning.

The conversation flows easily over dinner; their attention split between each other and you. They ask about college life, your plans for the future, and your family; their questions laced with genuine interest and just enough flirtation to keep you on edge

When you have all finished, Rio stands to clear the plates, leaning close as she reaches for yours. The proximity is dizzying, her chest brushing your shoulder, and you catch a faint, earthy scent clinging to her skin.

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, her eyes flickering between you and Rio, her expression smouldering. She doesn’t say a word, but the intensity in her gaze speaks volumes.

When you offer to help with the dishes, they wave you off with a chorus of “nonsense.” Agatha’s smile turns wicked. “Besides, we were supposed to have a movie date night tonight. You should join us—it’d be a shame to let all this wine go to waste.”

The phrasing makes you pause, but before you can think too much about it, Agatha ushers you into the living room. 

The room is cozy, bathed in the soft glow of lamps. Rio claims the armchair with an almost feline grace, crossing her legs and leaning back with a glass of wine in hand. Agatha sprawls on the couch, her posture open and inviting. She pats the seat beside her with an easy smile.

You hesitate for half a second before sitting on the far end of the couch, hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you.

The movie starts, but it’s impossible to focus. Agatha stretches her arm along the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. The touch is casual, almost innocent, but it sends your pulse racing.

She leans over at one point to refill your glass, her chest grazing your arm. The heat of her proximity is overwhelming, and you’re sure Rio notices the way you stiffen. There’s a flicker of amusement in her dark eyes as she takes a sip from her own glass, her lips quirking into a faint smirk.

As the movie progresses, the conversation becomes more pointed. They ask if you’re seeing anyone, and when you choke on your wine at the question, Agatha laughs—a low, throaty sound that makes your stomach flutter.

“No,” you mumble, setting your glass down a little too quickly.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she says, her hand brushing your knee lightly. The weight of her touch lingers, even as she pulls away. “I was sure a pretty little thing like you would get snapped up in a heartbeat.”

Rio arches a brow at her wife. “Don’t scare them off, Aggie.”

“What? I’m just being friendly,” Agatha replies, her tone innocent but her smirk anything but.

The conversation continues, peppered with light touches and teasing remarks that leave your heart racing.

By the time the credits roll, the tension in the room is palpable. Rio sets her glass down and stretches, her movements deliberate as she rises from the chair. “What do you think of married life, Aggie?” she asks, her voice light but carrying an edge. “Think we make a good team?”

Agatha’s gaze flicks to you, her lips curving into a smirk. “The best. But sometimes, it’s nice to mix things up.”

The comment hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Your heart pounds as you glance between them, unsure if you’re imagining the tension or if they’re deliberately baiting you—and each other.

You nervously check your phone, hoping for a message from your parents saying they’re home and wondering where you are. Instead, you find a single text: “Out of town for the weekend, hope you’re doing okay!”

You stare at the screen in disbelief, your stomach sinking.

“Everything alright?” Rio asks, noticing your expression.

"They… forgot I was coming,” you admit, feeling foolish. “They’re away for the weekend.”

Agatha clicks her tongue, feigning shock. “Terrible parenting, really. Lucky for you, we’re not going anywhere.”

Rio nods, her tone reassuring. “You can stay here. We’ll take good care of you.”

There’s something about the way she says it—gentle but with a sharp edge—that makes your breath hitch. You thank them profusely, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as they show you to the guest room.

They leave you alone for a bit, both going to change. You sit on the bed, your thoughts racing. Their lingering glances replay in your mind, stirring something restless and uncertain. Without thinking, you pick up your phone and start searching their names on social media. Your heart beats faster as you hope for a bikini picture or something—anything—that might help you satisfy the growing ache of desire.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly set the phone aside. Rio steps in, holding a phone charger. “Thought you might need this,” she says, her voice soft and her gaze steady.

“Thanks,” you manage, taking it from her. Her fingers brush yours for a fleeting moment, and she lingers by the door before slipping away.

Did she know what you were about to do?

A short while later, there’s another knock. This time, it’s Agatha, holding a glass of water. “Thought you might be thirsty,” she says, her tone lighter, almost teasing.

Surely she hears how that sounds, right?

Her fingers graze yours as she hands it to you, and the warmth of her touch lingers long after she leaves. You sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the glass, your mind spinning with questions you can’t answer.

"Okay, it’s totally normal to be offered a glass of water before bed, and it does not mean they can read your mind,” you whisper to yourself, trying to curb your horniness.

—

Later that night, as you lie in bed, unable to sleep, the events of the evening are still playing over in your mind, especially the lingering touches and smirks. Suddenly, you remember the spare key your parents used to keep hidden under the plant pot by the front door. Without even thinking about how weird it was to up and leave in the middle of the night, you hop out of bed and tiptoe down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. But just as you reach the stairs, a voice stops you cold.

“Exactly where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

Turning slowly, you see Agatha leaning against a doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the faint light from her bedroom. She is wearing a floral robe, and her hair is slightly mussed; her expression is both amused and predatory.

“I—I wasn’t sneaking,” you stammer, holding up your hands defensively. “I just remembered my parents used to keep a spare key under the plant pot. I thought I’d grab it and let myself in—”

“Without saying goodbye?” she interrupts, stepping closer. Her tone is teasing, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can respond, another figure appears behind her. It’s Rio, wearing nothing but her underwear and a top that reads: BOHNER FAMILY REUNION. PITCH A TENT. Her dark hair is messy, and you notice a small, mouth-shaped bruise blooming on her neck that definitely wasn’t there earlier.

“You were being so good for us before now,” Rio says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your knees weak. “We said we’d take care of you, didn’t we?”

The heat in your cheeks is unbearable now, and there is a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs. You stammer out an apology, but their combined presence is overwhelming.

“Relax,” Agatha purrs, her fingers grazing your arm. “We’re not upset, just disappointed you wouldn’t come see us before saying goodbye.”

Before you can process her words, Rio steps forward, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Where were you going to sleep after grabbing that key, hmm? Your parents’ dark, empty house? Sounds pretty lonely to me,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a faint smirk as Agatha’s hands slide around your waist.

Rio’s touch is featherlight yet commanding, her fingers tilting your chin just enough to keep your wide-eyed gaze locked with hers. Her dark eyes glimmer with something unreadable—intensity, curiosity, desire, maybe all three. 

You’re painfully aware of Agatha’s hands on your waist, her touch firm but teasing, fingers curling just slightly as if testing your reaction. “And what would you do when you found out that they no longer keep one there? They stopped doing it since the break-in, don’t you know? Would you come back over here and beg for us to take you back in and keep you warm?” Agatha says softly, her breath brushing against the back of your neck. 

You try to answer, but your words stick in your throat as Rio steps closer, her thumb brushing along your jawline.

“She’s right,” Rio adds softly, her voice low and velvety. “Why sneak off when you’re already here?”

Your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears as you look between them. You want to say something—anything—but the weight of their combined attention renders you speechless.

Agatha chuckles, the sound rich and almost predatory. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She presses closer, her front brushing against your back now, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you fully realise what’s happening, Agatha and Rio are guiding you away from the stairs. You’re caught between them, their touches subtle yet deliberate. They lead you down the hall, past the guest room, and into the master bedroom.

The room is large but intimate, the air carrying the faint scent of cedarwood. A soft glow from a bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the space. Agatha releases your waist to close the door behind you; the click of the lock is startlingly loud in the quiet.

Rio takes the lead now, her hands resting lightly on your arms as she guides you towards the bed. Her touch is warm and grounding, yet there’s a deliberate slowness to her movements, like she’s savouring the moment.

“You’ve had a long day,” she says, her voice soothing but laced with something deeper. “Let us take care of you.”

Agatha steps into view, her smirk as confident as ever. “Or, we can stop. If that’s what you want?” She asks, tilting her head as she studies you.

Your heart pounds as you shake your head, unable to trust your voice. 

Agatha’s smile widens, satisfaction gleaming in her bright blue eyes. “Be good and use your words for us, hun.”

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper.

At that, Agatha moves swiftly to your other side, her presence as bold as ever. Her fingers brush against your jaw, turning your head slightly so you’re looking directly at her. “You’re so tense,” she murmurs, her thumb grazing your cheek in a gesture that feels both comforting and intimate. “We’ll fix that.”

You barely have time to process her words before Rio steps closer, her body heat radiating against yours. Her hand trails down your arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate, as if she’s memorising every inch of you.

The room seems to shrink as the weight of their attention consumes you. 

Agatha’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you feel a thrill shoot through you as her lips quirk into that teasing, predatory smile.

“See something you like?” she murmurs, her voice a low purr. “You weren’t careful enough not to like some of our pictures online, darling.”

Shit. So their coming into your room was not a coincidence.

Before you can stammer out an excuse, her lips capture yours—soft but demanding, her confidence evident in the way she takes control. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch firm yet tender, while the kiss is a paradox of teasing and intensity.

Rio’s hands suddenly slide to your hips, pulling your attention. Agatha leans back just slightly, her breath fanning your face as her lips curve into a smirk.

“Your turn, my love,” she says, glancing at Rio with a playful challenge in her eyes.

Rio doesn’t hesitate. Her movements are firm as she tilts your chin towards her, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slower, softer, but no less consuming. Where Agatha is fire and fervour, Rio is water, her touch calm yet undeniably intoxicating. Her hand presses gently against the small of your back, holding you steady as she deepens the kiss.

When she finally pulls away, her lips linger close to yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “You taste as good as I thought you would,” she murmurs, her voice low and laced with something that makes your knees weak.

Agatha laughs softly, stepping even closer so that you’re cocooned between them. Her fingers trail down your arm, igniting sparks along your skin. “I think they’re enjoying this, don’t you darling?” she teases, her gaze flicking between you and Rio.

Rio smirks, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “I’d say so.”

They exchange a knowing glance before Agatha’s hands firmly grip your shoulders, and with a playful yet commanding push, they guide you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the harsh intensity of their movements.

Agatha walks into what you presume is her closet, but you don’t think on it for long as Rio is straddling you in a matter of moments. She is kissing you with a deep need; meanwhile, her hand makes its way under the waistband of your shorts; she swipes two of her fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness, letting out a groan of pleasure at the feel of it and brings her fingers to your lips.

Just as you’re about to take her digits in your mouth, you hear Agatha’s voice full of desire call, "Off."

But Rio doesn’t move; instead, she pushes her fingers into your mouth, groaning at the feeling.

Agatha grabs the woman by the scruff of the neck and yanks her off of you.

“But Aggie, they’re so wet already,” Rio whines.

If your lips weren’t already parted from having sucked on Rio’s fingers, your mouth would have dropped open at the sight of Agatha; she had removed her robe, revealing the purple lace lingerie underneath.

She places something you can’t see at the foot of the bed and comes to stand next to you. “It seems like everything you wear ends up soaked,” she says, mock concern coating every word. 

Rio looks longingly at Agatha, a silent request on her face. With a single nod from Agatha, Rio starts undressing you hungrily. And as soon as you're bare, her mouth is on you again, exploring every inch of newly exposed skin.

“You know,” Agatha drawls, “Before your little stunt back there, my wife and I were finishing off our date with a wonderful night in bed.” She continued. “Both of us talked—or rather tried to talk between our moans—about how we’d get you to join us.” You feel Rio smirk against your skin at this last sentence.

You shudder under Rio’s relentless kisses and Agatha’s firm gaze. Your legs are forced apart with strong hands, and you feel the cool air hit your heat.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Agatha states for the second time that evening. “Now let us take care of you.” Her voice is sure, leaving no room for arguments.

Rio’s makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. When she reaches your thighs, her touch becomes lighter, stopping short of where you want her mouth most.

“Please.” You beg, back arching up into her.

The feeling of her lips on your clit is pure ecstasy. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of Rio starting to suck lightly. Moaning, you grab a fistful of her hair and grind up into her face, seeking more. 

She hums in satisfaction, happy to fulfil your request. She nips gently and begins to tease your entrance with her tongue, dipping it in ever so slightly. It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming all over her face, her name falling repeatedly from your lips. It’s only when you start to come back down that you remember Agatha is still in the room. She is looking at you with sheer lust, clearly struggling to keep herself from interrupting Rio’s fun. 

As if they could read each other’s minds, Rio withdraws from between your legs and comes to sit behind you, pulling you up so your back is against her chest. She pinches one of your nipples, causing your head to drop back on to her shoulder. A firm hand grips your chin, forcing it back up, and you open your eyes to see Agatha kneeling between your legs, her hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

“You need to look at Mommy when she fucks you,” Rio whispers in your ear before playfully nibbling your earlobe.

Agatha’s arms snake under your legs, pulling your hips up and into her. It’s then that you feel something hard poke you, making your eyes go wide. At some point when Rio was fucking you, Agatha had slipped into a harness, a purple dildo secured firmly in the centre.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asks, bringing the tip to your entrance. “I’ll only continue with your enthusiastic consent.”

The fact that she cares enough to make sure you were definitely okay with this, only turns you on more. “Yes. Please, Agatha—" Rio's grip on your jaw tightens. “Mommy,” you correct yourself. “Please fuck me, Mommy.”

And with that, she slides into you, facing very little resistance with how wet you are. As she bottoms out, her hips pressing into yours, you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

You hear Agatha chuckle when she leans into you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while still continuing her thrusts. 

The sex is messy and loud, and you cum at least two more times before the couple shows any kind of stopping. You are left gasping, your body shaking; Rio’s firm hold on you is the only thing keeping you upright.

“Think you can go for one more round, sweetheart?” Agatha teases as Rio climbs out from behind you.

With the strap still inside you, Agatha rolls you over so she is lying on the bed and you are straddling her hips. The other woman settles her thighs on either side of Agatha’s head, facing you.

“Honey, you really have enjoyed having our guest round, haven’t you?”

Rio doesn’t reply, only winking at you before lowering herself onto Agatha’s face.

You start to grind your hips at the sight, the strap hitting the perfect spot inside you, Agatha begins to flick her tongue over Rio’s clit, and Rio pulls your face in to start making out with you. This change in position has the harness rubbing against Agatha’s clit, pulling the most gorgeous moans from her. All of you are lost in waves of pleasure; the sounds of grunting, moaning, and whining filling the room. 

You all cum at different times, but it doesn’t matter because nobody stops until the last of you is coaxed through the final aftershocks of your orgasms.

Untangling yourself from one another, you and Rio flop down beside Agatha, dumb smiles plastered across all of your faces. It’s a few minutes before they get up, but Agatha takes off the harness, giving it to her wife before coming back and drawing you into her arms. Rio wanders off to their bathroom to clean it off and returns with a wet cloth to clean you up as well.

She rejoins you after she's done and presses a soft kiss to your head, coming to lay down behind you, draping her arm across your body. With the three of you like that, it is not long before you fall into a deep sleep, a small smile still visible on your lips. 

You were going to ache in the morning, but right this second you couldn’t find a single fuck to give.

——

Please like&reblog if you enjoyed, I thrive off external validation and it motivates me to write more stuff like this 👀

read part 2 here :)

[vidalswife]

Imagine you're a 400+ century old witch and you somehow end up falling in love with the female embodiment of death, who then has to take your son's soul after he dies, which results in you hating her. Now, you're trying to get your power back, and after years, and i mean YEARS, of not seeing her, she comes along the journey to help you and your coven get to the end of a death mission. You know what she is, you know why you don't like her, but you also know that beyond that you can never hate her. She's the only woman you've truly ever loved, and just her touch can drive you crazy. You spend each day thinking of and yearning for her, and then when the teenager you've taken under your wing almost dies, you plead with her not to take him. She does this for you, she doesn't take him, just for you. And in a campfire circle surrounded by your newfound family, she tells them all of a woman she once loved, who she is physically and emotionally pained by everyday, knowing that she hurt this woman more than she can ever explain, and more than anyone can ever imagine. She says this woman is her scar, a mark of failure and devastation she has to carry with her for the rest of her life. This woman is you. You leave to breathe, knowing it was you, knowing that just the simple word "loved" coming out of her mouth when she was talking about you made every bone in your body ache for her. She follows you, puts her hand on your back, and you can't help but to pull her in for a hug, it feels like heaven, like you're soaring above the sky with nothing else in the world but the two of you, and you realize you haven't felt the gentle touch of this woman since what happened. In your moment of longing and desperation, you cup her face, and you pull her in for a kiss, not only inches apart, but centimeters. A single breath holds her apart from you, and all those feelings you have for her rush back to you in an instant. She embraces it, but pulls back at the very moment. She knows you are vulnerable, she knows you're in pain, she knows you're not ready to feel her again. So she says your name, and she looks at you the way she always has. She didn't have to say it for you to know she loves you, and you weren't sure if her reluctance made you love her or long for her more, or both.

[ellastone-olsen]

trying new brushes

[r0sesandthprns]

how i think each one would hold your hand in bed

(not my art!!)

[theballadofharkness]

Make me a Mommy

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: Agatha is horrified and personally victimised when you go off the pill to switch medications and have to forego having sex unprotected… will you both be able to last weeks without it? Or will you decide to take a different course of action?

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: explicit smut, g!p Agatha, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, MDNI

A/N: so here is my first explicit smut fic… hope it’s okay my loves xo

You step through the door, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before making your way into the living room, where Agatha is curled up on the couch with a book in her lap. The fireplace is crackling softly, casting a warm glow across the room, and for a moment, you just admire her- your wife, your beautiful, gorgeous wife, looking utterly serene as she flips through the pages.

Then you clear your throat. “So… bad news,” you start, dropping your bag onto the armchair.

Agatha hums absently, not looking up. “Mhm?”

“The doctor wants me to switch birth control. Says it’ll fix my headaches,” you say, sitting down beside her. “Which means I have to be off it for a few weeks before starting the new one.”

Agatha freezes.

Her book lowers slowly, like you’ve just told her something catastrophic. Her brows furrow, lips parting slightly as she stares at you, her expression a mix of betrayal and horror.

“Wait,” she says, her voice flat. “So that means… no unprotected sex?”

You nod, biting back a smile at her reaction. “That’s what I just said, babe.”

Agatha closes her book with a thud, tossing it onto the coffee table like it’s personally offended her. “You’re telling me I can’t be inside my wife” she gestures at you, “raw” she gestures again, “for weeks?”

You snort, folding your arms. “That’s generally what ‘off birth control’ means, yes.”

Agatha gapes at you, like you’ve just announced Santa Claus isn’t real and you personally set fire to the North Pole.

“But-” she flounders, her hands moving wildly as if trying to grasp onto logic. “We’ve never not had unprotected sex.”

“We have,” you remind her, amused. “In the beginning. Before I went on the pill.”

“That was forever ago,” she grumbles, flopping back against the couch like the weight of this tragedy is simply too much to bear. “I’m a married woman, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yeah, I know,” you tease, patting her thigh. “I was there for the wedding, remember?”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” she mutters, rubbing a hand down her face. Then, narrowing her eyes at you, “Did the doctor say we can’t have sex at all?”

“No, we just have to use protection,” you reply, tilting your head. “Why?”

Agatha grimaces, like the word itself is offensive to her. “Protection?” she echoes, appalled. “You want me to go back to using condoms? Like we’re teenagers sneaking around in the back of a car?”

“Well, yeah, Aggie,” you grin, enjoying this way too much. “Unless you wanna risk getting me pregnant, that’s kinda the only option.”

You had wanted to bring it up. The words sat heavy on your tongue, right there, waiting, ‘Have you ever thought about kids?’ for a while now. But you knew Agatha. You knew the way she guarded herself, the way certain subjects made her retreat behind sharp wit and dry humor. You knew the ghosts that haunted her, the quiet fears she never quite voiced. And this? This was something she might run from.

So you swallowed the words down as you tried to stop yourself from thinking of tiny hands reaching for hers. Laughter ringing through the house. Agatha, rolling her eyes at some ridiculous mess but still cleaning it up. Agatha, braiding soft little curls with the same careful precision she used to weave her spells. Agatha, with a child pressed to her chest, murmuring some ancient lullaby into their hair. A family. Your heart ached with how much you wanted it. One day. Maybe one day.

Agatha groans, dragging a hand through her hair. “Baby, you’re killing me,” she whines, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “No raw, no filling you up? Just some sad, latex-covered half-measure?”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “It’s not that bad,” you tease. “You’ll survive.”

“Debatable,” Agatha grumbles, pulling you into her lap with an exaggerated huff. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you how good I am with my mouth instead.”

You shiver at her tone, but before you can respond, she presses a slow, hot kiss to your throat, her hands already wandering.

~

You’re standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, when you feel her eyes on you.

“You know,” Agatha sighs dramatically from the kitchen table, “this house just feels so… empty now.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Empty?”

She nods solemnly, stirring her coffee like she’s mourning something. “Mhm. It’s like there’s a void. A great, gaping hole in my life.”

You snort, turning back to the stove. “Let me guess- the void is unprotected sex?”

“I’m so glad you understand my pain,” she deadpans. “It’s like you get me.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” she presses, her chair scraping back as she stalks toward you. “Am I really, sweetheart?”

You gasp when she wraps her arms around you from behind, pressing her face into your neck like a suffering widow. “I just love you so much,” she mumbles against your skin. “And now I have to endure this tragic separation between my wife and my-”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, wiggling in her grip. “You’re being very dramatic, baby.”

She nuzzles closer, squeezing you. “Just let me have this.”

You giggle, flipping the pancake. “My poor, suffering wife.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, still clinging to you like she’s drawing strength from your presence. “I appreciate your support in this difficult time.”

~

You’re in the supermarket, picking out some vegetables, when you realize Agatha has gone suspiciously quiet.

Turning your head, you find her a few steps away, staring at a very specific aisle.

The family planning section.

You watch as she glares at the boxes of condoms like they personally offended her, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“Babe,” you call gently.

She sighs heavily, dragging a hand down her face. “I just never thought I’d be back here,” she mutters, sounding exhausted. “It’s like I’ve been… demoted.”

You choke on a laugh. “Demoted?!”

“Yeah,” she gestures vaguely. “I worked so hard to get promoted to no condoms, and now? It’s like I’m back at square one. Like all my effort meant nothing.”

You bite your lip, fighting a grin. “Well, it’s only temporary-”

“Temporary,” she mimics flatly, rolling her eyes. “Easy for you to say, sweetheart. You’re not the one being robbed of life’s greatest joy.”

You snort, grabbing a box off the shelf. “C’mon, let’s just get these and go-”

But before you can blink, she snatches it from your hands and throws it back onto the shelf like it burned her.

“No,” she says firmly. “We’re getting the thinnest ones. I refuse to be a peasant about this.”

You lose it, cackling as she grumbles to herself, flipping through boxes like she’s reading product reviews.

~

You’re curled up in bed, scrolling on your phone, when you hear the deepest, heaviest sigh known to man.

You glance over.

Agatha is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling like she’s contemplating the meaning of life, her arm draped dramatically over her forehead.

You wait.

Another sigh.

You set your phone down, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You okay over there, babe?”

“No,” she huffs, turning her head to look at you. “I’m suffering.”

“Oh no,” you coo, biting back a grin. “What’s wrong, my love?”

She squints, like you should already know. “I can’t fuck you raw,” she states. “That’s what’s wrong.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Baby, it’s not that serious-”

“Not that serious?” she gasps, clutching her chest. “Sweetheart, this is a crisis. We were so happy. We were thriving. And now-” She gestures vaguely at the air. “Now we’re living in hell.”

You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my god, Agatha-”

“No, really,” she continues, scooting closer, resting her head on your stomach. “I miss my wife. I miss being inside my wife. I miss-”

“Okay,” you gently cover her mouth with your hand. “You’re so down bad.”

She makes an indignant noise against your palm before licking it playfully, making you squeal.

“Just saying,” she mumbles as she nuzzles your skin. “It’s been three days. I might die.”

“You’re not going to die,” you giggle, running your fingers through her hair. “You’ll be fine.”

She huffs dramatically, hugging your waist. “I better get a reward for all this suffering.”

You grin, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’ll see.”

She groans, rolling onto her back again, dramatically flinging an arm over her face. Yeah. This is going to be a long few weeks.

~

It starts with a kiss.

Not the usual playful, teasing ones-no, this is desperate. Needy. You’re in bed, in Agatha’s lap, her hands firm on your waist as she devours your mouth like she’s been starving for you. And maybe she has. Because you started this. You’d meant for it to be just some lazy making out, something soft, something sweet. But then she groaned against your lips, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck- you were gone.

“Baby,” she murmurs, voice wrecked, breathing uneven. “You keep squirming like that, and I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” you whisper, rolling your hips against her again. “C’mon, Aggie. Want you.”

She grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut like she’s holding herself back. “Sweetheart,” she warns. “We can’t-”

“Fuck it,” you breathe, grabbing her face, kissing her hard. “Fuck it, Agatha. Please.”

She groans, hands trembling as they move under your shirt, pushing the fabric up, feeling you.

“Baby, we have to use protection,” she forces out, like she’s fighting for her life.

You shake your head fiercely, chest heaving. “No. No, I don’t want that. I want you. I want it raw. Please, Agatha, I-”

You’re going to kill her.

Agatha is trying- really trying- to be good, to be patient, to respect the fact that you’re still waiting, that you can’t let her have you the way she needs to just yet. But then you’re in her lap, all soft and warm, all giggles and needy little whimpers, pressing those sweet, sloppy kisses against her neck, shifting in her arms, looking up at her with those big, desperate eyes, and fuck she’s already breaking.

Her whole body jerks at your words, her breath shuddering as she grips your thighs, trying-failing-to stay in control. “You’re playing dangerous games, sweetheart,” she rasps. “You know I want that too-”

“C’mon, Aggie,” you whisper, breathless and sweet, rolling your hips against her, making her groan, making her ache. “Just a little. Just the tip, baby. Please.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” she groans, kissing you feverishly, hands everywhere, touching, claiming. “You really want this, sweetheart? You’re sure?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, arching into her touch. “Yes, yes, I- fuck, please, Aggie, I need it, I need you-”

And fuck, she wants to say no.

She wants to be good, to be careful, to be patient-

But then you grind against her, soft and sweet, and fuck, she snaps.

“Shit,” she grits, her hands shaking as she grips your hips, guiding you down, just enough to let you feel her, just enough to feel that tight, wet heat wrapped around the very tip-

And then you whimper.

Then your walls flutter around her.

Then you clench, just a little, just enough to make her see stars-

And it’s over. The last of her self-restraint snaps like a frayed thread.

“Oh, fuck-” she groans, her head falling back against the pillows, her control snapping as she grips your hips, dragging you down onto her cock, filling you up in one deep, desperate stroke.

And shit, you gasp, eyes going wide, fingers gripping at her shoulders. And Agatha just groans, burying her face in your neck, pressing a shaky kiss to your skin, trembling beneath you as she thrusts up. “I’m sorry, baby,” she rasps, voice thick with lust, with hunger, with need. “I can’t-fuck, I can’t stop now.”

Agatha is gone. She’s supposed to be careful. Supposed to be taking her time, waiting until you’re back on the pill. But you’re so warm around her, so tight, so perfect, and fuck, you whimpered when she filled you up, clenching down like you were made for her, and now? Now she can’t stop.

“Fuck,” she groans, her grip tight on your hips as she grinds you down onto her cock, dragging you over her slow and deep, like she’s trying to ruin you, like she needs you to feel every inch of her.

And you’re gasping, nails digging into her shoulders, lips parted, eyes glassy as you whimper, “Aggie-oh, my god-”

And that breaks her.

“Oh, you like that, pretty girl?” she rasps, voice thick, hungry, her teeth grazing your throat as she rocks her hips up, slow and deep, dragging against that sweet little spot inside you, making you whimper, making you shake.

“I-” You can’t even speak, just a broken little gasp, your body trembling as she fucks you, slow and deliberate, like she’s claiming you.

And fuck, she is. She grips your hips, dragging you down onto her cock, her mouth at your ear, her voice wrecked as she murmurs, “Thought you just wanted the tip, sweetheart.”

You writhe in her arms, whimpering as you shake your head, your fingers fisting in her hair. “Didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah?” she hums, her voice a tease, even as her hands are shaking, even as she’s trying so hard to hold herself together. “Didn’t mean to take my whole cock, baby?”

You squirm, burying your face in her shoulder, your whole body trembling against her. But Agatha smirks, her grip tightening, her hips rolling up in one, slow, deep thrust, filling you up so good, so perfect, making you cry out, making you tremble.

And then she grins, pressing a kiss to your temple, whispering, “Guess I’ll just have to keep fucking you until you mean it.”

Your voice is shaky, gasping against her lips as you clutch at her shoulders. “Shit, okay-okay, just-” You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath hitching as she drags you down onto her cock, slow and deep. “Just don’t- don’t cum inside, okay?”

Agatha groans, her fingers digging into your hips as she grits her teeth, her restraint hanging by a thread.“Oh, sweetheart,” she rasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her hands trembling as she holds you there, buried to the hilt.

But you’re squirming, grinding yourself down onto her, chasing that perfect friction, your voice all soft and breathless as you whimper, “It’s fine, it’ll be fine, just- just don’t stop.”

And fuck, she almost loses it. Because you’re so tight, so wet, squeezing down around her cock like you’re made for it, your body shuddering as you bury your face in her neck, whimpering her name, your fingers digging into her arms- and you’re telling her not to stop? Yeah, she wasn’t planning on it. She snaps her hips up, grinding deep, her breath coming out in a harsh groan as she fists a hand in your hair, tilting your face up so she can kiss you, swallowing your broken little moan.

“Yeah?” she grits out, her cock dragging against that sweet spongey spot inside you, making your whole body tremble. “You sure about that, baby?”

And you nod, your breath all hot and desperate against her lips as you gasp, “I-I can’t- Aggie, don’t stop, please-”

She flips you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as she rolls her hips, deep and slow, her voice a wrecked little murmur against your throat.

“Don’t stop,” she mimics, her grin dangerous as she grinds into you, making you gasp, making you tremble. “Gonna be a good girl for me, then?”

You nod, your whole body shuddering as you cling to her, whispering, “Yes-yes, I promise-”

But Agatha just grins, pressing a kiss to your temple as she whispers, “Good girl. Now let’s see if you mean it.”

Her voice is low, gravelly, the sound sinking straight to your core as she rolls her hips, slow and deep, dragging her cock against that achingly sensitive spot inside you. You’re trembling, your thighs tight around her waist as you whimper, your fingers digging into her back, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your temple, her breath hot against your skin. “All fucked out already, baby?”

And shit, you are. Your body is shaking, your head tipping back as you gasp, your hips rocking against hers, chasing more, deeper, anything.

And Agatha just grins, her fingers tight on your hips as she pins you down, holding you still as she drags herself out of you- slow, torturous- until only the tip is left inside. Then, she snaps her hips forward, burying herself to the hilt, her cock grinding against that perfect, little spot inside you. Your back arches, a wrecked little moan breaking from your lips as you cling to her, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she grits out, her voice wrecked as she grinds deep, her hands shaking as she grips your thighs, spreading you wider, letting herself sink into you even more. “So fucking perfect for me.”

And you whimper, your head spinning, your body burning hot with want as you nod, breathless and needy, whispering, “Yes-yes, I-I am-”

And Agatha just groans, pressing her forehead against yours as she grinds her hips, slow and deep, drawing out every little whimper, every tremble of your body.

“Don’t stop, Aggie-please.” you whisper, voice all shaky and sweet

And fuck, she wasn’t planning on it. Her pace stutters, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps as your body tightens around her, pulling her deeper, tighter, until she can barely hold herself together.

“Fuck-” she grits out, her fingers digging into your thighs as she grinds into you, deep and slow, dragging out every little shudder and whimper that spills from your lips.

You’re right there, your body trembling, your nails scraping down her back as you cling to her, your breath ragged as you gasp, “Aggie-I-oh, fuck- please let me cum- please- ah!”

She groaned at your begging, her restraint barely hanging by a thread. “Since you asked so sweetly, darling,” she murmured, her voice like velvet, before she filled you again with slow, deliberate strokes that left you gasping, toes curling, body melting beneath her.

Agatha let out a low, satisfied hum, leaning down to press a kiss against your parted lips as she stilled, letting you adjust.

“There you go,” she whispered against your mouth, her smirk returning as she rolled her hips just enough to make you moan. “Now- hold it for me.”

“I- I can’t,” you whimpered, nails digging into her shoulders as your body trembled beneath her. The stretch, the fullness of her, the way she was holding you right at the edge without letting you tip over- it was too much, too overwhelming.

Agatha tsked softly, her lips curving into a knowing smirk as she rolled her hips, slow and deep, making you sob at the sensation. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, dragging her fingers along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze. “Yes, you can.”

You shook your head, gasping as she ground into you, pressing deeper, teasing that spot inside you that made your whole body shudder. Your thighs clenched around her waist, desperate for more friction, more everything.

“I- please, I can’t hold it,” you moaned, your voice a broken, pleading thing.

Agatha chuckled, dark and full of promise. “Yes, you can,” she murmured, lips brushing against your ear as she slowed her movements just enough to keep you dangling, just enough to keep you teetering on the brink without relief. “And you will.”

You let out a desperate cry, clinging to her as if she were the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

“Be a good girl for me,” she coaxed, her voice dripping with sin, her hand slipping between your bodies to press slow, torturous circles over your clit. “Hold it.”

Your whole body tensed, fire licking up your spine, the pressure unbearable. Tears pricked your eyes, every muscle straining with the effort of obeying her command.

“That’s it,” Agatha cooed, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, just as she gave a sharp, deep thrust that made you scream.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” she praised, nipping at your bottom lip as she kept you right there, teetering on the edge of bliss, refusing to let you fall just yet.

You sobbed her name, mind spinning, pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

“Just a little longer,” she purred, her smirk pressing against your skin. “Then I’ll let you come.”

“Please,” you choked out, voice raw and desperate, your fingers clawing at her back, her arms, anything to hold onto. “Agatha- please, please, please-”

She hummed, her lips dragging along your throat, her breath warm and teasing. “Such a needy little thing,” she murmured, rolling her hips in a slow, deliberate grind, pressing deep until you saw stars.

You sobbed out a curse, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

Agatha smirked against your skin. “You’ve been so good for me, darling.” Her voice was honeyed, dark and dripping with approval. “I think you deserve it now.”

Your eyes flew open, barely able to process the words before…

“Come for me, sweet girl.”

The command shattered you.

The second she said it, she drove her hips forward with a slow, deep thrust, her fingers pressing just right against your clit, and you broke.

Your body arches, your head tipping back as a wrecked moan spills from your lips, your whole body shaking beneath her as your orgasm washes over you, hot and overwhelming, pulling her right over the edge with you.

“Shit,” Agatha groans, her hips jerking, her grip tight as she grinds into you, her body tensing as she lets out a deep, desperate moan.

You clenched around her, waves of bliss crashing over you. You pulled her closer to you, pressing your damp skin against her.

“Baby,” she grits out, her hips trembling as she tries to pull back, tries to do the right thing- but you’re clutching at her, your legs tightening around her waist, your body so soft and warm and perfect beneath her.

“Don’t pull out,” you beg, your voice breathless, eyes wide and glassy as you look up at her. “Please, Aggie, make me a mommy.”

Her head drops, a shudder racking through her whole body as a wrecked groan spills from her lips.

“Fuck,” she rasps, her resolve breaking as she grinds into you, so deep and slow, like she’s pressing the idea into you, sealing it into your very bones. “You want that?” she breathes, her hands tight on your hips, holding you in place as her nose brushes yours. “Want me to put a baby in you, sweet girl?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, your fingers tangling in her hair, your lips brushing hers as you whisper, “Please, Aggie, I want it so bad.”

That’s all she needed to hear. Her restraint snaps like a thread pulled too tight. A guttural sound rumbles in her chest as she buries herself in you, grinding deep, pressing her weight down like she could force the very thought of being filled, of being bred, into your mind, your body, your soul.

“Fuck, baby,” she rasps, her breath hot against your cheek. “Gonna fill you up so good, make sure it takes-”

You whimper, your hands gripping at her shoulders, your legs locked around her back. “Yes, yes, please-”

She grits her teeth, her rhythm turning slow, deliberate, dragging each thrust out like she wants you to feel it, to remember it. Her hands splay over your belly, her thumbs stroking over the soft skin like she’s already imagining the way it’ll swell beneath her touch.

“You’ll look so beautiful carrying my baby,” she murmurs, her voice low, reverent. “Gonna be such a good mama, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitches, your eyes going glassy, your body arching into hers. “Aggie-”

“I’ve got you, baby,” she soothes, pressing her forehead to yours, her hips rolling, her cock grinding against that spot that makes you cry out. “Taking me so well, fuck-”

Her movements turn shakier, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. “Shit, I’m gonna-baby, I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” you plead, clutching at her, dragging her down, kissing her with everything you have. “Please, Aggie, give it to me-”

And with a wrecked, desperate moan, she does.

As the last tremors roll through her, Agatha collapses onto you, careful not to let her full weight press you down, but still keeping you beneath her, caging you in. Her breath is hot against your neck, her lips skimming your pulse, and she shudders at the way your walls are still fluttering around her, so tight and warm, like your body still doesn’t want to let her go.

“My perfect girl,” she murmurs, voice hoarse, reverent. Her hands splay over your belly, stroking, like she’s already imagining you full of her, already claiming what she’s just given you. “So good for me, sweetheart. So fucking good.”

You whimper, your body still twitching, hypersensitive and overwhelmed. “Aggie-”

“Shhh, baby,” she soothes, pressing kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

She finally, slowly, pulls out, and you whimper again, your body clenching at the loss, feeling empty without her. But before you can protest, her fingers skim down your body, dipping between your legs, gathering the warm, sticky evidence of what she’s just done to you.

“Look at that, baby,” she purrs, her fingers trailing through the mess she’s made of you, playing in it, spreading it. “So full of me.”

Your breath hitches, your hips jerking when she teases at your aching clit, her touch featherlight, just enough to send a shockwave through your already wrecked body. “Aggie!”

She chuckles, low and wicked, watching the way you tremble, the way your body reacts to every tiny movement of her fingers. “Too sensitive, sweetheart? But you love it, don’t you?”

You shake your head, but you’re squealing, gasping, your thighs trying to clamp shut around her wrist- but she’s stronger, and she holds you open, torturing you with slow, lazy strokes.

“One more for me, baby,” she murmurs, her voice like silk, like she’s asking something so simple, so reasonable. “Just one more, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

“Aggie- I- I c-can’t-” you whimper, your thighs trembling, your body overwhelmed and aching, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, the way you plead only fuels her.

“Oh, but you can, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs, her fingers still teasing, dipping, spreading her claim inside you. “My good girl always gives me what I want.”

Your breath catches, your hands gripping at her, desperate, but she just shushes you, her lips brushing against yours, her body looming over you as she keeps you pinned, her fingers wickedly slow as they play between your shaking thighs.

“So messy, baby,” she murmurs, circling your puffy clit with the evidence of what she’s just done to you. “So perfect for me, letting me fill you up like this.”

You sob, the sensation too much, too intense, but you can’t stop the way your hips twitch, the way your body responds to her.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Agatha encourages, her voice low, dripping with satisfaction. “You wanna give me one more, don’t you? Wanna show me how much you love being full of me?”

“I-I-” you stammer, but she presses her thumb firmly against your aching clit, and you jerk, your back arching, your mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“There we go,” she coos, her other hand gripping your waist, holding you still as she works you through the aftershocks, her fingers spreading her warm release back inside you as she keeps stroking, keeps teasing, keeps pushing you toward the edge she knows you can’t resist.

“Aggie- I- I’m gonna-”

“That’s my girl,” she groans, her lips brushing your jaw as she feels your body tense, your walls fluttering around her fingers, your whole body shaking as she finally pushes you over again. “Let go for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

And you do. You break, shuddering, whimpering, your body pulsing in her hold as she watches, devours the way you come apart for her, your overstimulated body giving in completely.

“So fucking beautiful,” Agatha whispers, her fingers finally slowing, easing you through it, soothing you as you pant, your body spent and boneless beneath her.

She leans down, kissing your cheek, your forehead, murmuring soft praises against your damp skin as she finally pulls her fingers away.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” she soothes, her hands now gentle, comforting as she gathers you in her arms. “My perfect girl.”

Agatha holds you close, her body still shuddering slightly from the intensity of what just happened, but all her focus is on you now- her precious girl, her perfect love, shaking in her arms.

“You okay, baby?” she murmurs, her lips ghosting over your temple, her hands soothing over your damp skin, grounding you, centering you in the aftermath.

You nod, still breathless, your fingers weakly clinging to her forearm where it’s wrapped around you. “Mhm… just tingly.”

Agatha chuckles softly, kissing the side of your head before reaching for a nearby cloth, gently cleaning you up, her touch delicate, reverent. “Tingly, huh?” she teases, but there’s nothing but adoration in her voice. “I’d say that’s a good sign.”

You hum, letting your body melt against her, your eyes fluttering as she continues to wipe you down, soothing every overstimulated inch of you. The warmth of her body, the tenderness of her touch, it’s all so perfectly Agatha.

Once she’s finished, she pulls you into her embrace again, tugging the covers up over both of you. “C’mere, sweetheart,” she whispers, tucking you against her chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

For a while, you just lay there, safe in her arms, the air thick with the lingering scent of sweat and sex and something undeniably intimate.

Then, in a voice so soft it’s barely a whisper, Agatha asks, “Did you mean it?”

You blink, lazily looking up at her. “Mean what?”

She tilts your chin slightly so you’re facing her, her thumb brushing over your lips. “About wanting to have my baby.”

Your cheeks warm, a mixture of shyness and something deeper settling in your chest. “I…” You swallow, nuzzling against her palm. “I did.”

Agatha inhales, her eyes searching yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. “You really want that, sweetheart?” Her voice is hoarse, almost uncertain, like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing.

You nod, reaching up to cup her face, smoothing your thumb over her cheek. “I love you, Agatha. I want… everything with you.”

She sucks in a breath, her grip on you tightening like she’s afraid to let you go. “Fuck, baby,” she whispers, her forehead pressing against yours. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

You smile, a little sleepy, a little giddy, so in love with this woman it aches. “I think I do,” you tease, letting your fingers twist into her hair. “You got all shaky and sentimental on me, Aggie.”

She huffs, but there’s no bite to it, only warmth as she pulls you even closer. “Shut up, brat,” she murmurs, but then she’s kissing you, deep and slow, and you know-you know-that she’s thinking the same thing you are.

That this is it.

That you belong to each other.

And that maybe, just maybe, there’s a future waiting for you- a future where you’re hers in every way.

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

How different marvel and dc characters would hold your face:

Tony stark, loki, bucky Barnes, Bruce wayne, Oliver queen, Dawn Granger, donna troy, Carter Hall

Thor, Clint Barton, Agatha harkness, rio vidal, Jason todd, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Diana prince, Dinah lance,

The joker, poison ivy, harley Quinn, Jason todd, logan howlett, Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr

Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, Peter quill, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, bruce banner , dick grayson, Tim drake, Barry allen, John Stewart

[covenofagatha]

Summer Starts With You

Agnes x reader

You're bored at your graduation party until your mom's best friend, Agnes, shows up.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: agnes has a penis, blowjob, sex, age gap, bratty reader, choking, handjob

“So, graduation…what’s next?”

It’s the only question you’ve been asked for the last few months. It’s gotten boring—you’ve lately started switching it up. Sometimes, you’ll tell them that you have absolutely no clue. Other times, you’ll tell them you’re thinking of going on to get your doctorate. 

God forbid they give you more than two seconds after graduating college to figure out the rest of your life. All you know is that you want to have a free summer so you can do whatever you want, whenever you want, with no responsibilities or school or work to worry about. You’re owed at least that. 

You plaster a smile onto your face. “I’m going to probably take a small break, maybe a gap year, and then apply for my Masters.” 

A lie, or maybe not. You don't know yet.

It’s a distant relative you’re talking to, a cousin a few times removed that you haven’t seen in a few years, but for your grad party, your parents pulled out all the stops and invited as many people as they could. It’s a party at their house and guests have been trickling in and out for the past two hours. 

Only one more hour of The Question to go. 

“Don’t take too long in between,” your cousin advises solemnly. “Super hard to get that motivation back.” 

You nod. “That’s what everyone says.” 

There’s people hovering in your periphery, just waiting to talk to you. You told your parents you didn’t want a big thing but of course, this was more about showing their daughter off to everyone rather than actually giving you the small get-together you actually asked for. 

All you want is a break. 

Or someone interesting for you to talk to. 

As if on cue, the front door opens and in walks Agnes O’Connor, one of your mom’s best friends. She’s a detective and you’ve had the hots for her ever since she pulled you over your sophomore year of college for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign. She had ultimately turned you down after you had flirted for a bit—you could tell she was thinking about it, at least—but she didn’t give you a ticket. A good sign.

That's actually how she met your mom, after you had exaggerated just a little when you told your parents about getting pulled over and your mom had flown into the station in a rage, hellbent on finding the woman who had “accosted” her darling daughter. 

Agnes had explained what really happened—although she left out the flirting; another good sign—and for some reason, that’s what made them click. 

You watch her look around the crowd of people and you lock eyes. She raises a brow and you wink. 

Just because she turned you down the first time, and the second time, and all the other times you’ve tried, doesn’t mean you stop. She’s fun to tease, even if you know it’s probably not going anywhere ever. Plus you see the heat in her eyes, the way she checks you out when she thinks you're not looking. She wants you just as bad, she just has a harder time admitting it to herself.

Agnes walks over into the kitchen where platters of subs, chicken nuggets, and fruit are laid out and she picks up a plate. Her long, dark hair is tied back and she’s wearing a royal-blue checkered shirt with navy pants and black boots. Your vision is glued to the subtle swaying of her ass in those pants that fit her just right and someone says something to you that you completely miss. 

She grabs a sandwich and spoons some watermelon onto her plate and then takes a beer. You feel hope rising in your chest that she’ll come over and save you, but much to your chagrin, she walks over and finds your mom. They strike up a conversation and you’re left having to answer The Question again. 

This time, you tell them that you’re going to try to find a job and the couple says, “Good luck.” You know what that means—you’re not finding a good job right out of college and you better get your ass back in school. 

All of your friends are outside, actually having a good time. You long to join them, but your mom will kill you if you disappear into the backyard, or anywhere. You’ve thought about making a break to your room a few times, but she always stares you down like she knows exactly what you’re thinking and she’s just daring you to try. 

But then Agnes touches your mom’s arm, whispers something in her ear, and walks right past you into the sitting room at the front of the house. It has doors and she’ll be the only one in there. 

“Will you excuse me?” you say to the person you’re talking to now—a neighbor of your parents, maybe a friend of your dad’s—and avoid your mom’s eye contact as you follow Agnes into the room. 

Just as you suspected, it’s only Agnes, and she’s sitting on the gray couch against the wall, right in the middle. Her legs are spread just a bit, the plate of half-eaten food on the end table next to her, and her beer in hand. 

“Thanks for coming, Agnes,” you say as you close the door behind you. She smirks and rakes her eyes over the crop top and definitely too-short jean shorts you’re wearing. “Were you expecting someone in here?” 

She gives you a crooked, wry smile. “Just wanted a little break from the festivities.” It’s not a definitive “yes, I wanted you to follow me,” but you can read between the lines. 

You grin and cross the room in a few long strides and slide right onto her lap sideways, so your thighs are perpendicular on top of hers. You steal the beer bottle and take a swig. 

“Congrats, kid,” she says in a gruff voice and she shifts beneath you. Her lashes are long and you’re so close you think you could count them. Her blue eyes are deep and full of something. You can see her pupils expanding. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing after graduation?” you simper and hand the bottle back to her. 

She huffs and takes it and ignores your fingers blatantly brushing against hers. “Figured you’ve been drowning in that question.” 

You shrug with a coy smile playing on your lips. “I’d happily answer anything you ask.” 

Agnes shifts again and you bite your lip. There’s a hardness—or at least a semi-hardness—in her pants that’s now pressing into your thigh. 

Her cock. 

The outline has been visible before and it makes your head foggy and your cunt wet. You’re not sure when the last time you came not thinking about it was. 

You push your leg further into her cock and she grimaces, but she doesn’t pull away. You can hear people outside talking and you can’t remember if you locked the door. You’re friendly with Agnes in front of others—albeit, not sit-on-her-lap friendly—so it wouldn’t be super damning if someone were to walk in right now, but you don’t want to be interrupted. 

“Did you get me a gift?” you ask teasingly, but there’s no mistaking the heat in your voice. 

Agnes takes a deep breath and she takes a sip of beer before resting the bottle on your thigh. It’s cold and your chest flares. “There’s a card on the gift table. Wrote in it that you shouldn't roll through stop signs.” 

“If it gets you to pull me over again, Agnes, I’d do anything,” you say sweetly and she rolls her eyes fondly. As much as she puts up a front, you know she secretly likes you like this. “But I know something else you can give me.” You wink, just so she knows exactly what you mean, and she scoffs. 

“I’m best friends with your mom and you’re like twenty-five years younger than me,” Agnes points out, as if you can’t feel her erection right now. 

“So?” you breathe, pushing your leg harder against her cock and she presses the bottle harder into your leg with a glare. “Don’t act like that doesn’t turn you on. I can feel you.”  

Agnes grits her teeth. The lines on her face are hardened and you want to drag your tongue over them. “You need to go back out to your party, kid. Your parents will be mad.” But her resolve is weakening, you can tell. 

“Please, Agnes?” you say, giving her puppy-dog eyes. She refuses to look at you so you get out of her lap and sink to your knees on the white carpet in front of her. 

Now she does look at you and there’s no denying the heat in her pupils. You put your hands on her knees and drag them up her thighs until your right hand is right below her bulge. 

“Let me give you what you need,” you plead, taking a chance and laying your fingers over her length. She jolts and bites her lip. 

It’s her, in the end, that unbuckles her belt and unzips her pants for you. She doesn’t take them off, just opens them enough for you to eagerly reach into her boxers and wrap your fingers around her. 

She groans quietly when you pull her out and you’re surprised she made it this long without fucking you if this is the reaction you have on her. Her cock is standing tall in the air, rigid and leaking, and blue veins stretch from the base to right under the head. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper and it’s echoed by her when you start slowly moving your hand up and down her length. You collect the liquid beading at the top to reduce the friction and it works because Agnes’s head drops back onto the couch and her eyes flutter shut from just your hand. 

“I shouldn’t fucking want you this bad,” she spits out, almost as if she’s angry at herself for it, and you chuckle sweetly before rubbing your thumb over her tip. Her hips jerk up. “Your mom would kill me.” 

It should be a turnoff, her mentioning your mother, but something about the forbidden nature of this—and Agnes bringing it up as you're stroking her cock—makes your cunt ache even more. 

“What would she say if she knew you fucked her daughter?” you ask and twist your wrist so she can’t answer the question. She clamps a hand over her mouth because if she makes a loud sound, your mom will know. 

“I don’t fucking care right now,” Agnes growls and a thrill runs through you. She’s leaking copious amounts of precum right now and it’s getting all over your hand and the only thing you want to do is taste her. 

She watches your mouth get closer to her cock and her breathing becomes short and shallow like she can’t actually believe what you’re about to do. 

Your tongue darts out to flick the head and Agnes gasps. You smile up at her and then enclose your lips around her before sucking gently. She moans and it’s muffled by her hand as she struggles to keep eye contact. 

Her hand buries into your hair when you start to move further down her cock, always bobbing back up to give yourself a break and some time, and her fingers tighten but never push. She’s being gentle, even though you can feel the restraint in her thighs. 

One of your hands strokes the bottom half of her cock while you mouth at the top part, dragging your tongue filthily over the tip and tasting the salty precum. You moan softly around her and she screws her eyes shut at the vibrations. 

Agnes is having a really hard time staying quiet and you’re loving every second of it. You almost want her to make noise just so you can know how much you’re affecting her, but her cock is twitching and pulsing and throbbing on your tongue, so you have a good idea. 

There’s an ocean between your legs and you’re a bit worried you’ve soaked through your underwear and shorts. Your entire body is humming with energy and you’ve never felt so alive, even when you take Agnes’s cock all the way down and you feel it hitting the back of your throat. You gag and spit flies out of your mouth and gets on your chin and the bottom of her flannel, but she just whimpers lowly and tugs at your hair as encouragement. 

Her hips thrust up, pushing her cock over and over into your mouth, and more precum is dripping onto your tongue, which you rub on the underside of her length. Her legs spasm and she sharply inhales. 

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” she pants and you chuckle as much as you can with her cock in your mouth, which only makes her whine more. You lose yourself in sucking on her, closing your eyes and getting more enthusiastic with your movements, and you think she’s about to come very soon. 

You open your eyes and look up at her through your hooded lashes and she groans at how you look with her dick in your mouth. The only sounds in the room are her quiet but heavy breathing and your slurping sounds and you wish you were able to hear her falling apart for you properly. 

Maybe next time. 

Your throat is raw but your clit is aching and if you don’t get some relief soon, you’re not sure what will happen. And you have to go back out to your party after this. 

That’s enough for you to pull back with a pop and it takes a moment for the strands connecting your swollen lips to her wet and messy cock to break. You stand up while she watches you, too dazed out with pleasure to ask what you’re doing, and shimmy off your shorts. 

Agnes’s cock lurches forward and spills precum on her shirt when she sees the purple underwear you have on underneath. Can she see how wet they are from there? You can certainly feel it. 

“Do you have—”

She knows what you’re asking for before you finish and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a gold, square packet. 

You smirk. “Do you always come over to my house with a condom or were you just feeling lucky today?” 

Agnes doesn’t answer; she just tears the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls it onto her cock. You ache for her, you long to feel her inside you, so the moment the condom is on, you’re straddling her lap again, only this time, facing her. 

Her tongue pokes between her teeth as she reaches down between you to pull your panties to the side and then position her cock at your entrance. Even the slight pressure brings you pleasure and you can only imagine what she’ll feel like inside you. 

You move down slowly, pausing after the tip slides inside to adjust to the girth—she’s big, bigger than you realized even when you were sucking her off. Her head drops back again and your forehead falls onto her shoulder, your mouth open-breathing against her flannel as you take her in. Your walls stretch to accommodate and it burns in the best way and you whimper when you feel her finally all inside you. There’s a feeling you’ve never felt before in your stomach, almost like you have to pee, because of how deep her cock is. 

“Fuck, Agnes,” you whine into her shirt and her hands grip onto your hips to hold you still. You can feel her pulsing and she’s holding her breath like she’s afraid to let too much out. 

When you pull back, you see her bottom lip is sucked in between her teeth and the vein in her forehead is throbbing. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks. She’s never looked so hot to you right now. 

“You feel so fucking good,” she groans, voice rough as gravel, and it sends tingles down your spine; you unconsciously clench around her. “Your cunt is so tight. So fucking wet.” 

You nod, not able to put how good she’s filling you into words, and you need to start moving. 

Her fingers dig into your hips when you lift yourself back up, putting your hands around her shoulders to stabilize yourself, and you feel her cock drag against every groove inside your pussy. It’s delicious and mind-blowing and this is the best thing you ever could’ve gotten. 

What are your plans for after graduation? 

Agnes. 

Both of your mouths drop open when you start to slide back down her cock and your warm, wet walls are once again wrapped around her. 

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Agnes says sternly, but thrusts her hips up so she hits even deeper inside you and that’s the message you choose to listen to.

She gasps when you grind on her and then swirl your hips around and it feels like her cock is swelling inside you. 

Her nails scrape against your skin and you stop going slow because both of you need this so insanely much right now. You start riding her, fast and hard and determined, and she bucks up to meet you each time. 

It’s getting harder to stay silent and you reach down to tug at her left hand and pull it up and around your throat. Her eyes flash, her breath catches, and her rhythm stutters and you’re worried for a second that you’ve gone too far, but her fingers tighten around you, not too much, but just enough to make your thoughts blur. 

The light pressure makes your gasps more breathy, but they’re definitely quieter and Agnes’s lip starts to bleed from how hard she’s biting it while watching you move up and down. You arch your back on the way up and her hand still on your hip claws at you. 

Your walls are clenching furiously, spasming and convulsing around her, and you can feel her pulsing inside of you, too. 

“Agnes, fuck,” you moan and her fingers on your throat tighten, making your vision swim for a second. It only makes you wetter and you can feel the slickness on your inner thighs from the mess leaking out of you. Her pants are going to be soaked. 

She nods frantically, cheeks a bright red now, and you never break eye contact. It’s strangely intimate, but you know how long both of you have been waiting for this. 

If only she had let you blow her for rolling through the stop sign the first time you met her. It could’ve been two years of her cock inside you. 

But in some ways, the wait just makes it better. 

The pressure in your stomach is building and it’s getting harder to keep moving up and down on her and she’s feeling it too, based on how sloppy her thrusts have become. Your breaths intermingle and your forehead is resting against hers, sweat mixing, and you’re so fucking close. 

“Agnes, I’m going to—fuck—I’m gonna come,” you pant out and she laughs breathlessly and the hand on your hip moves down and effortlessly finds your clit. You clench around her with a steel grip and you crash your lips against hers without even thinking so you don’t moan loudly. She groans into your mouth and then her tongue is sliding against your tongue and you momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be riding her. 

Her hand tightens around your throat and you keen into her mouth, clenching, and she keeps rubbing your clit and you’re so close, you’re so fucking close—

“Come for me,” she growls and nips at your bottom lip, drives her hips up, squeezes your throat, and presses hard on your clit. 

That’s all it takes and she swallows all of your moans even though a few escape as you fall apart for her, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that someone outside this room at the party—your party—could come barging in and see you coming all over your mom’s best friend’s cock. Your mind goes blank and your vision goes white and for a moment, the only thing that exists is Agnes. 

She hasn’t come yet and she takes her hand away from your throat, letting air finally rush in unrestricted, and paws at your hips with a desperate look in her eyes. 

“Your mouth,” she whispers like she’s hurt and you quickly get off her, the emptiness gaping in your cunt now, and sink to your knees. 

Agnes rips off the condom and her cock is weeping precum and it looks angry and painful with how red it is. 

She grabs your hair preemptively before you envelope her tip with your mouth and hollow out your cheeks. She lets out a strangled groan, both of you apparently past the point of caring if you get caught, and she throbs on your tongue. 

Agnes pumps her cock in hard and fast and you gag but relax your throat so she can use you however she wants. Her face contorts with pleasure; she’s close, you can see and feel it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come in your mouth,” she gasps and you nod eagerly, sucking and licking and swallowing around her thick length that’s making your jaw ache. You feel tears gather in your eyes and you’re not sure how you’re going to hide your ruined state from the partygoers. “And you’re going to be a good girl and swallow all of it, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you garble around her cock. 

Her hips jerk and the vein in her forehead throbs furiously and then she thrusts up one last time, stiffens, and lets out a slow groan, idly moving her hips while she pumps a load of cum into your mouth. It’s salty and hot and you make a muffled sound as more strands keep shooting out. 

You swallow all of it the best you can and Agnes nods approvingly. You can feel some of it leaking out of the corners of your mouth and you hope that none of it is dripping onto your shirt. 

“Fuck, you’re good,” Agnes says despite herself and you hold her cock in your mouth as she softens and then she slides out, fully limp. The praise settles warmly in your cunt.

She leans forward to wipe off the excess cum and holds out her finger to you. You suck her off it and she bites her lip at the feeling. Her spent cock gives a little twitch and you wonder if you’ll get her back in here before the party is over. 

You’re willing to bet that you will. 

Agnes stands up and you scooch back on your knees to give her some space. She tucks her cock back into her boxers and zips her pants before fixing the buckle. Her booted foot slides your jean shorts back over to you and she holds out a hand. 

You reluctantly take it and she pulls you up. You fix your underwear and then put your shorts back on while evaluating Agnes’s pants. There’s a few wet spots, but someone would have to look closely to see them with how dark the fabric is. 

Agnes looks at you and barks out a laugh. “You look well-fucked.” 

And of course, you smirk. 

When you both rejoin the party, no one notices that you came out of the sitting room together, looking significantly more disheveled than before. Thankfully, there was an incident with the dessert that your mom had to take care of, so she didn’t have the chance to send out a search group for you. 

Agnes crumples her plate up and slips the condom in between the folds and throws it away, all physical evidence of your tryst gone. 

You’re pulled into a group of relatives, who are all so excited for you and can’t wait to hear about what you’re going to do next. 

You feel someone’s eyes on you and you look across the room to find Agnes staring at you. You give her a wicked smirk and she raises her bottle of beer. 

A silent toast. 

It’s going to be a fun summer. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @tobeawriter98 @hapuchika

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Teacher's Pet (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Professor Harkness takes on so few students. You're determined to become on. A non-magic AU with professor!Agatha.

Words: 7.4k

Warnings: Praise kink, possessiveness, obsessiveness, drinking, teacher/student relationship, age gap (but all over 18+), smut, fingering (R receiving), oral sex (R receiving), biting, Dom!Agatha, sub!R, power imbalance, unhealthy dynamics

You’d heard the whispers around campus about Professor Harkness’s class. The rumours were passed around like a ghost story told under the cover of night at camp. You stored them, collected each one like a gem, richer for every word you were gifted by the rumour mill. Drunk students would try one up one another at house parties, wanting to share the worst of her and win the competition.

You were fascinated with the legend of her before you ever laid eyes on her.

It was at a faculty party, your history professor extending an invitation to all of his most promising students. You’d shown up, expecting nothing but other old men, ruing the day the students grew so rowdy, passing around stories about their own college days when they showed far more respect to their professors than your lot ever did.

Instead, you’d found her, nursing a glass of red wine in the library, a heavy book open in her palm. She glanced up, piercing blue eyes settling on you with disinterest, and yet you felt like you’d been struck by lightning. You took a deep breath as her eyes left you, going back to the book in her hand, and made your way further into the room.

Your finger trailed over the spines of the book, most leather bound and weighty, older than the mess of paperbacks in your dorm room. Scanning the titles, you realised each one was on World War I. You wrinkled your nose, continuing on.

You knew you should have been trying to network with some of the most eminent professors in the history department, but now you were finding it hard to break free from the woman’s gravity. So you stayed, looking over the books, trying to find something that would suggest your professor wasn’t as boring as you suspected he was. And if you kept sneaking glances at the other woman, then it was an added bonus to your evening. Dark hair and pale skin, red lips curling up at the corner, dressed in clothes that must have cost more than your entire wardrobe combined, she was the most wonderful thing to look at in that room.

She did not pay you any attention.

“Ah, there you are.”

You glanced up, your professor swaggering through the door, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingertips. In the corner of your eye, you saw the woman tilt her head in his direction.

“Oh good. I’m so glad the two of you found each other,” he said.

You looked over at the woman, finding her staring down your professor with a look of absolute disdain. Clasping your hands in front of oyur body, you waited for some kind of explanation. Your professor drew closer, the bounce in his step seemingly suggesting he hadn’t noticed the way the woman was looking at him.

“Agatha, let me introduce you to my best student.”

He scooped you up on his way, the hand on the small of your back directing you towards her. You’d done your best to keep your distance from her, not sure she’d appreciate you interrupting her. Now, propelled towards her, a sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety curdled in your stomach into something you didn’t like.

When he said your name, those blue eyes focused on you. You wouldn’t say there was interest there, but it certainly was something more than the disdain she’d shown him.

“Agatha’s interests lie more in historical folklore surrounding witchcraft,” he told you.

“Oh,” you said, “I was hoping to look at that for my senior thesis.”

“Agatha Harkness,” she said, eyebrow raising, holding a hand out to you.

You grasped it in yours, her warm skin soft where it met your palm. It was like an electric shock went through you from her touch while you tried to fit this view of a woman with the figure of legend you’d been collecting stories on for the last few years at college.

“Don’t you go trying to poach my best student, Agatha,” you professor tutted, “I’m still trying to convince her to instead look at something more modern and practical.”

“You believe another World War I scholar is practical?” she asked, the drawl of her voice letting you know exactly what she thought of that opinion.

“I would say there’s more need for them in the workforce than witches,” he replied, still good-naturedly, but his gaze had hardened.

“We should talk,” she said to you, turning her head back to you, blocking your professor out of the conversation.

“I’d like that,” you said, knowing you sounded breathless and probably too eager, but you weren’t about to miss this opportunity.

She finally let your hand go, fingers stroking softly along the length of your palm. Your lips parted and for just a moment her gaze lingered there before looking back to your professor.

“You may go now,” she told him, not bothering to keep it behind the cover of polite respectability.

He sputtered out some argument. She rolled her eye, placing a hand on the small of your back, so different from when his hand had been there, and led you out of the door. Eyes followed the two of you, most focused on her, a ripple of something going through the rest of the party. She pushed the front door open, leading you into the cool air of the night.

“So,” she said, leaning back against the railing of the porch, “you’re interested in witchcraft, are you?”

“Yes,” you replied, softly, almost embarrassed, and yet certain in your conviction.

“You should know that oaf is taking such an interest in you because you’re such a pretty young thing,” she said, “his last favourite is now positioned somewhere nice like Yale or Cambridge and he keeps taking the credit for putting her there.”

“I have no interest in World War I,” you said, hoping that was answer enough.

“Clever girl.”

The thrill of her praise would sustain you long after the party was over.

“If you’re serious about pursuing witchcraft for your senior thesis, come by my office tomorrow morning with a proposal,” she said.

She maintained eye contact as she took a long sip from her wine, her lipstick leaving a mark on the glass. You couldn’t stop yourself watching her, already under her spell. She passed the glass to you, half drunk, and turned to walked down the steps.

“Don’t disappoint me,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing in the night.

You drained the last of the wine from her glass and left it there on the wooden floor of the porch. You returned home without bothering to take your leave of your professor, knowing he wouldn’t matter by that time tomorrow. You were going to give her the best proposal she’d ever seen, of that you were determined.

She agreed to oversee your senior thesis on historical folklore of witchcraft.

You learnt very quickly that Professor Harness’s demanding nature wasn’t an overblown rumour. She expected excellence from you. Late nights and early mornings, you spent so much time with you nose in your books the outside world stopped feeling real. Your fingers had grown ink stained and your eyes ached from the strain of reading such small type.

Every meeting, she sent you home with a new stack of books, expecting you to be there again in a few days having read them all, ready to discuss every little detail in her office for hours on end. She took up most of your waking hours, and when you did manage to snatch some sleep, she haunted your dreams.

You hadn’t gotten over the way lightning had struck at your first meeting.

Her office had turned into a sanctuary for you. You’d rush in, an armful of books almost tumbling to the floor before you threw them down into one of her chairs and curling up on the sofa she kept flush to the wall under the window. Some days you were there from the moment she arrived until long after the sun set, just reading and taking notes.

The office itself was warm, sometimes overly so, the sun coming through the window at just the right angle to heat the air. Her desk was large, imposing, the perfect symbol for the woman who had become legend around campus. Bookshelves were overflowing with all kinds of books. Cheap paperbacks, hardcovers, leather-bound, in pristine condition and falling apart. Some she’d let you pour over but leave behind at the end of the night, others she sent you off with. All you knew was you wanted the chance to read every single one.

Sharing the space with her was just as nerve inducing as it was the first time. You became so aware of yourself, wanting to impress her. When she’d sit beside you, the sofa cushions dipping until you felt yourself slip towards her, you’d grow so still, trying to not touch her, scared of what that would do to you. Sometimes, she lent forward to look at the page you were reading and her dark hair would brush your skin.

There were times when you thought she might know what you were thinking. The way you felt out of control around her. Your need to impress her. Her gaze would linger just a fraction of a moment longer than was appropriate, assessing every inch of you. Sometimes her fingertips would graze over the skin of your cheek, or she’d grasp your chin, or she’d gently move your hair out of your face. Hours spent together, and you could never tell how she felt about you or your work.

It only made you try harder.

It wasn’t until two months in that your friends decided to take matters into their own hands. You’d just returned from a full day studying in her office when a knock sounded on your door. Stifling a yawn, you pulled the door open.

“Oh, so you are still alive,” you friend said, shoving past you into your tiny dorm room.

“Hello to you too,” you said.

“There’s a party tonight. You’re coming. Don’t even bother arguing. No one has seen you since you started studying with the witch,” she said, picking up a banana on your desk that had begun to turn brown, “seriously, does she keep you chained up or something?”

You weren’t about to dignify that with an answer. Not that the thought of being bound by Professor Harkness was one that you hated. It just wasn’t worth the time explaining that.

“I have so much work I still need to do,” you said.

“You’ve been working too hard. Come on, it’ll be fun. You still remember what fun is like, right?”

In the end, you let her drag you to the party after raiding your wardrobe for something more party appropriate. Standing, clutching the red solo cup full of something that burnt as it went down, you watched the game of ping pong going on.

“I’d be terrified if I had to spend all that time with her,” some guy was saying to you.

“She’s not that scary,” you said, already regretting your decision to come.

“Nah. I heard she made some guy piss himself with just a look,” he said, swaying closer to you.

“She’s not like that,” you said, shaking your head, “sounds like that guy just has poor bladder control.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he said, leaning closer until his sour breath washed over your face, “wanna come upstairs so you can tell me what she’s really like?”

“No thank you,” you said, shoving him away form you.

“Whatever,” he spat, “frigid bitch.”

“So what’s she actually like?” your friend said, taking the drunk guy’s place when he swung away from you.

“Quiet, exacting, demanding,” you replied, “she expects excellence.”

“Sounds exhausting,” she said.

“No, no, it’s great. I love it. She’s… great,” you said, looking down into your cup, swirling the liquid in it, “she’s kind of brilliant.”

“Careful. You sound like you’re in love with her,” your friend laughed.

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped.

“Maybe she’s done a spell on you. You know everyone says she’s an actual witch? She’s certainly mean enough,” she said.

“She’s not,” you snapped, “seriously, all those rumours are made up by sad little people who feel inferior whenever they see a smart woman because they know they can’t ever live up to her.”

“She growled like a dog at some guy who cut her off as she was walking,” she said.

“People make up such stupid lies,” you said.

“Someone has video of her insulting some students. It went viral on TikTok,” she said.

“They probably deserved it. She has standards,” you said.

“I’m just saying, be careful with her. Maybe she’s trying to recruit you to her coven, or maybe she’s hoping to sacrifice you in some ritual to get more power,” she said.

“Shut up,” you snapped.

Downing the last of your drink, you crumpled the cup and flung it aside.

“I’m going home. I have too much work to be getting on with for this,” you said.

“Hey, no, come on. I’ll stop talking about her,” she said.

You shook her hand off you.

“I’ll see you around.”

You ignored her as she shouted after you, letting yourself out through the back gate. Curling your arms around your body, you strode off down the sidewalk. The night air held a chill to it, the slow drip of autumn beginning to give way to winter. You tipped your head back to look at the night sky, so dark, the moon just beginning to wax.

You let your feet lead you back towards your dorm building, wandering through the night and the shadows. The air was crisp in your lungs and you let yourself breath in deeply. You should have been home, reading up on the intersect of witch trails with gynophobia in the Renaissance, but instead you had wasted time on a bunch of drunk idiots for nothing.

“You’re out late.”

You startled, whirling around, heart thumping in your chest. Stepping out of the shadows, hands in her pockets, Professor Harkness looked like the devil come to collect your soul. You’d give it willingly if only she asked for it.

“I was at a party,” you said.

“You should be careful,” she said, taking slow steps towards you, “pretty young thing like you all alone at night. Anything could happen.”

The way she smiled made you feel as if she was the wolf and you the sheep, the prey to her predator. You were desperate to let her sink her teeth deeply into you.

“Nothing that interesting happens to me,” you said, voice quiet.

“Come, pet,” she said, hand landing on the small of your back, “I’ll walk you home. Can’t have something happen to you. I’ll feel so much guilt.”

You let her lead you back towards campus, the bright lights beckoning you home. You didn’t ask how she knew where to take you, so focused on the feeling of her hand splayed over your back, the warmth of her skin seeping through your thin shirt and into your skin.

“I suppose I’ve forgotten what it is to be young. I assumed you’d be curled up in bed, reading the texts I gave you,” she said, “of course you’d be out on a Friday night at a party.”

“My friend dragged me with her. Apparently I’ve been missing in action since I started working with you. She said I needed to have fun,” you said.

“I thought we were having fun,” she said, voice a low rumbled against your ear.

“We are. I am,” you said, so quick it brought a smirk to her lips when you turned your face towards her, “I shouldn’t have gone tonight. It was a waste of time.”

“Have you been drinking?” she asked. When you didn’t answer, she lent closer, “I won’t tell anyone if you have.”

“I’m over 21,” you whispered.

“Such a grown up girl,” she said, “I can smell the cheap vodka on you.”

She paused in front of your dorm building, warm light spilling out the entrance. Both hands came up to cup your cheeks, calloused skin scraping against yours, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. She lent forward again, right into your personal space. Her fingertips stroked over your soft skin as she pulled them away before her index finger gently tugged on your lower lip.

“Sweet dreams, kitten,” she whispered before disappearing back into the shadows of the night. If not for your racing heart you might have thought you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

She didn’t mention it when you slunk into her office on Monday, passing you a cup of coffee without a single word, but a raised eyebrow. You took it with grace, curling up on her sofa, opening the book in your lap. When she settled beside you, feet kicked up on her coffee table, you didn’t even look at her out of the corner of your eyes.

Her fingers were soft as they brushed your hair over your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. Lingering on the curve of your jaw, you shivered, dragging your gaze over to her. The corner of her lips pulled up for a fleeting moment.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You did, the words spilling over your words like secrets, softly spoken in the confessional of her office. You lent back, watching you, legs spread, interest in her blue eyes. Her finger ran along the length of her lip, intent as she watched you talk yourself out. Once you were done, her hand came to cradle the back of your head, nails scraping over your scalp.

“It appears as if your weekend wasn’t totally wasted,” she said.

“No,” you said.

“Good.” Her lips pressed together to repress her smile, “keep reading.”

Her long fingers tapped the book in your lap and she left you alone to your reading. You snuck a glance at her before bowing your head and trying not to think about what this meant.

Nor the way you yearned for more.

From that day, you noticed a change. Her hands would linger on you, her touch growing familiar and yet no less exciting. You stayed later and later, curling up on her sofa, growing comfortable as you waded through history with her. She guided you, shaping your research into something you could be proud of as you poured over books and wrote long paragraphs for her to read. Shared meals and shared drinks, you’d sit on the floor of her office, take out containers scattered over the coffee table. You shrunk further away from your friends, finding their conversations inane and childish, drunken antics no longer fun but puerile as you worked on something far more important. You lost yourself in that room, an addict who needed their fix every day or else you were given over to malaise.

She indulged your need for her attention, her open door policy lasting 24 hours a day. She seemed to enjoy how much you wanted to share the same air as her. Every time you said something, your eyes would turn to her, desperate for her approval which she freely gave. You spent time watching the way her fingers traced over words on the page in front of you, trying not to think about how much you wanted her to do the same thing across your bare skin. Her praise became greater, more frequent, each one hard won for, and each one treasured like the most precious of gifts, hoarding them to revisit every night before you fell asleep.

You hadn’t realised how comfortable you’d grown in her presence until the afternoon you realised you’d fallen asleep on the sofa as you tried to craft the perfect sentence. Your eyelashes fluttered and you were slow to blink your eyes open. Draped in a soft blanket, the warm air heated from the small space heater Professor Harkness had dragged into the office, you glanced around the room. It was darker than you’d remembered, the window showing a night sky while the lamps offered a soft refuge against the dark.

Something tightened around your ankle. You turned your attention towards it. Professor Harkness was sitting on the other end of the sofa, your bare feet resting in her lap. The book in her hand was left unattended as she stared down at you, a confusing expression on her face. Her grip on your ankle tightened again and you offered a lazy smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop off,” you said, voice rough with sleep.

“I’ve been wearing you out,” she said.

With the softness of sleep making it difficult to school your features, your cheeks heated at the implication. Not that you would have minded. In fact, you wished that was the reason you were so tired.

Her finger trailed along the arch of your foot. You shifted, the touch a tickle. She did it again, smiling down at you before she let you go.

“Sleep, if you have to. You’re no use to me if you’re too tired to function,” she said.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling around you.

The thought that she’d placed it over you for your comfort made your head spin. To then sit by you, to welcome any part of you into her personal space as you slept was even worse. Your chest ached and your heart clenched and you wanted to crawl into her lap.

“Perhaps you’re right. We should take a break. I’ve been working you too hard,” she said.

You would let her work you harder if it meant more moments like this.

“Come, pet. I’m taking you to dinner.”

You were helpless as you followed her. She drove, the car feeling so close with the dark night pressing in against the windows. You tried not to watch her, the hands you’d been fantasising about controlling the machine with such power.

The restaurant was nice. Intimate. Small tables and soft lamps offering pools of light, plenty of shadows to hide in. The maître d' seemed to recognise her, leading her to a table at the back. You lowered into your seat, taking note of the candle on the table between the two of you. The entire thing felt like a dream.

“Um, I’m not sure I can afford this place,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving off your worry, “I’m paying.”

“Oh.” You clasped your hands in your lap, “thank you, Professor.”

“Why do you always call me that?” she asked.

“Call you what?” you asked.

“Professor,” she replied, “I have a name.”

“Sorry. Do you not like it? I was trying to be respectful,” you said, anxiety taking hold of you.

“Agatha is fine,” she said.

“Okay,” you replied, “Agatha.”

Her smile was self satisfied and she lent back in her chair, eyes sweeping over you. You let her drink her fill of you, not sure what she was looking for, but wanting to give it to her. You’d give her anything she asked for.

“I must admit, I wasn’t sure about taking on a student. I usually don’t. But I’m glad I did. You’ve been quite the diligent student,” she said.

“I’m glad you did too,” you said.

“Of course you are, pet,” she said.

Before you could say anything else, the waiter paused by the side of the table. She ordered for you, glancing over as she did so as if ensure you didn’t argue. You weren’t about to. You’d do whatever she wanted as long as it pleased her.

The wine was expensive, full bodied, better than any other you’d had. It stained her lips and you wanted to lick it free from where it clung to her skin. The discussion over dinner was about the things you’d read that day, listening to the way she so easily connected one story to another. Her mastery was awe inspiring. It was easy to ignore the romantic setting and the wine that kept being poured for you as she spoke, her husky voice doing something delicious to you.

It wasn’t until dessert that it all came crashing back into you. The creme brûlée in front of her was beautiful. The spoon cracked the top and she took a bite, slowly pulling the spoon from between her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a low moan reverberated through her chest. Your cheeks heated, thighs pressing together, turning breathless. A slow smile spread over her face and when her eyes opened again they were smouldering.

“You must try this. No other place does one as good,” she said.

“Oh, uh…” You looked down at the tiramisu in front of you.

“Come here, pet.”

She held out a spoon of the creme brûlée towards you. You lent forward, not quite able to believe what was happening. She placed it in your mouth, blue eyes holding yours over the top of the candle’s flame. It felt as if everything was moving in slow motion as she drew the spoon back.

The small noise of pleasure that came from you had her gaze lowering to your lips. Your tongue darted out, chasing the sugar on your lips. Her eyes darkened and she lent closer over the table.

“How’s that, pet?” she asked, husky, a rasp of a voice.

“It’s delicious,” you said, breathless and high pitched, a perfect opposite to her.

“It is, isn’t it?”

You watched in fascination as she scooped up some more, her tongue licking the spoon clean. Your breath hitched. Under the table, her foot gently brushed against your shin. Her blue eyes twinkled with something you wanted to drown in.

“Eat your dessert, kitten,” she said, “then I’ll take you home.”

You did as you were told, not even tasting coffee and cream of your own dessert. You were so focused on watching her devour her’s, indecent in how much pleasure she took from it. You were squirming in your seat as she finished, feeling on fire.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. You wanted her so much and she was just… making it worse.

She seemed not to realise the exact effect she was having on you as she led you out of the restaurant and back into her car. You stared out the window, not needing to be caught staring any more than you already had. It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine cut off that you realised something.

“This isn’t my home,” you said, staring up at the large two story house in front of you.

“No, it’s mine,” she said.

“What?”

You whipped around to stare at her. She wasn’t even looking back, the door open as she stepped out of the car.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked.

You scrambled to follow her, almost tripping over yourself in your haste. You weren’t sure what you expected, reproach for following her into her house or to be welcomed in with warmth. What you weren’t expecting was to follow her into the back where the kitchen was.

“Do you want tea?” she asked.

“Sure,” you replied, “what am I doing here?”

“Having tea,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder.

“And then?” you asked.

“Going to sleep. I can’t trust you to do that on your own,” she replied, “clearly.”

“I really am sorry about that,” you said.

“Stop apologising,” she snapped.

Your lips formed the word sorry again before you stopped yourself. Instead, you watched her boil the water for the tea. Your confusion was mixing with your yearning, leaving you unable to do anything but wait for her to tell you what was going on. Pouring the water into two mugs, the strings from the teabags resting against the sides, she looked over her shoulder at you again.

“Come on then.”

You followed her with the two mugs of tea into her living room. It was comfortable, almost like a more lived in version of her office. Sitting beside her on the couch, comfortable and well loved, you watched her lean forward and place one mug on the coffee table. She passed the other to you, fingers brushing together, looking at you from under her eyelashes.

“There you go, kitten,” she murmured.

“Thanks.”

You looked down into the cup, steam rising from the surface of the steeping tea. Your fingers fiddled with the string of the teabag. Her hand landed on your thigh, startling you.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she said.

“I don’t know what I’m going here,” you said, dragging your eyes up to her.

“Do you not want to be here?” she asked.

“No, no I do,” you said, rushing through the words, “it’s just…”

Her hands were gentle as they took the cup from your hands, placing it down beside hers. You could only watch as she swung her leg over yours, settling herself in your lap. Both hands cupped your cheeks, thumb stroking along your cheekbone.

“Agatha,” you whispered.

“Yes, pet?” she asked.

“I want you,” you confessed.

“I know.”

Her lips pressed against yours, scorching as she consumed your very soul. Your hands hovered above her waist, scared that to touch her was to break the moment, that it would make her come to her senses. She kissed you deeper, nails digging into the skin of your cheeks as she tipped your head back. Her tongue swept into your mouth. She was so warm when your hands made contact with her body.

She moaned into your mouth, filthy and hot, making you claw at her. She tasted of the burnt sugar of the creme brûlée and the wine you’d split with her. She kissed deeper still, stealing your breath. You tugged at her shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of her pants. Shoving your hands up, you felt the soft skin of her bare back against your palms, your fingertips, wanting to feel every inch of her.

Her hands slipped into your hair, shoving it out of the way, tugging on it in a way that had you mewling into her mouth. You felt her grin against your lips before she lent back, staring down at you. Her eyes had darkened, her lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

You shook your head before surging up to capture her lips in another kiss. Her fingers tightened in your hair and she made a small noise as your nails ran down her spine. You felt out of control, wanting more from her, the way you always did. There was something about her that drove you crazy, that had always driven you crazy. Even before you’d met her she’d consumed you.

She sat back again, hands slipping from your hair. You watched as her hands crossed over her body, slowly peeling her shirt off her body. You were dumbstruck, watching her with wide eyes and heaving breath. She flung the shirt aside, shaking her hair back from her face.

“Are you going to touch me, pet?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Your hands slid around her ribcage, feeling the way her skin moved as she inhaled. She was so warm against your palms, real and there with you. You were slow as you trailed your fingers up, brushing the underside of one cloth covered breast. Your eyes darted up to her face, finding her watching you instead of your hands.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

You cupped them, feeling the weight of them in your hands. Leaning forward, your lips brushed over the curve of one then the other, vulnerable skin soft. Your tongue dragged over it, tasting her. She made a small noise, a rumbling in her chest, hands coming up to curl around the back your neck. She pressed you closer.

Reaching around, you released her from her bra, tugging the straps down her arm. Your mouth was on her again, exploring, until your lips wrapped around a nipple. The noise she made was one of approval, back arching towards your mouth. When you sucked, gentle at first, testing the waters, she pressed you closer again. You wanted to please her so badly.

With your hand, you rolled the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. Your name sounded so sweet on her lips, urging you to continue. Her soft sighs and the way her hips rolled against you only made you want more. You wanted to worship at the alter of her body, to take communion from between her legs, to whisper your confessions into her skin. You wanted to drown in her.

Fingers tilted your chin up, your mouth popping free with an indecent noise. She chuckled, pressing her lips to yours again, teeth sinking in to your lower lip until you tasted the coppery tang of blood. You whined, surprised at how much you enjoyed the sensation of the pain mixed with the pleasure.

You made a pained noise as she climbed off your lap, standing half naked in front of you. Your fingertips skated over her skin. Without a word, she pulled you up off the couch and tugged you towards the stairs. You followed, willing to go wherever she wanted, as long as you could keep touching her.

She paused halfway up, turning to grasp your face in her hands, kissing you again like she couldn’t stop herself. You whimpered into her mouth, hands on her bare waist. She dragged you the rest of the way up, pinning you to the wall at the top of the stairs. You groaned, pressing her closer, wanting her everywhere. One leg slotted between yours and the noise you made would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so lost in her. Her thigh pressed against you, just enough pressure to have you grinding down, seeking out more.

“So needy, pet,” she murmured against your lips.

“Want you,” you managed to choke out before her tongue was in your mouth again and you were rolling your hips against her thigh.

“When I fuck you, it won’t be against the wall,” she said.

She tugged you further down the hall, slamming open a door to what you hoped would be your final destination. Her lips were on yours again, possessing you, guiding you where she wanted you. She paused, just long enough to tear your t-shirt from your body, flinging it aside.

Her lips trailed down your neck, latching on at your pulse point. You whined, tipping your head back to give her more access. You felt on fire. Her hands were skating over your bare skin, nails dragging in a delicious way, making you gasp out her name in a plea for more.

Rather than give in and give you instant gratification, she took her time with you. Her hands were slow but sure as she peeled your clothes from your body. It was the same level of precision she used in her work, getting exactly what she wanted. Only this time, you were the thing she wanted.

When she lowered you onto the bed, you were bare before her. Your usual self consciousness was washed away in the tide of your longing for her. Her eyes swept over you, lingering, taking their time to drink you in in your entirety. Her fingers played with your nipples, watching with an academic interest as you arched up, your small whines doing nothing to spur her on.

Holding your eyes, she pressed kisses to your skin, soft and slow, making her way down your body, lingering the closer she got to the apex of your thighs. You trembled, fingers clenching in the comforter.

“You keep your hands right there, pet,” she said, staring up your body.

You nodded, willing to agree to anything she asked of you in that moment.

“Good girl,” she said before her lips pressed to the crease where your hip met your thigh. You inhaled sharply and she grinned. Her teeth sunk in, leaving a dark bruise on your skin as she sucked on it.

She hovered for a moment, her breath ghosting over where you wanted her the most. You pulsed, suspended in the moment before her mouth made contact with you. Her hands curled around your thighs, holding you open for her as her tongue ran through your folds. You cried out, hips bucking up into her mouth.

She chuckled, the vibrations going through you in a way that made you feel like you were being undone. Her tongue teased you again before pressing against your bundle of nerves. You whined, fingers clenching, her name a prayer on your lips. She pinned your hips to the bed, giving your clit a harsh suck. The feeling ricocheted through you, fire curling in your veins, your muscles tightening.

She feasted on you. Relentless, unforgiving, refusing to give you a chance to breathe. She was like a woman possessed, singular in her intent, putting everything into her goal. She was taking you apart, slowly and surely, and all you could hope was that she’d put you back together again when she was done.

Her fingers slid inside of you, so easily it would be embarrassing under other circumstances. They were slow at first, teasing and never giving you quite enough. But then she curled them, pressing into the special place no one but you had managed to find. Your legs trembled.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“No you don’t, pet,” she said, “you don’t come until I say so.”

“But-“ you tried to argue.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” she asked, cutting you off, thumb running in slow circles over your clit.

“Yes,” you replied, whiney and desperate.

“Then don’t you dare come without my permission,” she said, face lowering back to your throbbing core.

Her tongue was back on your clit as her fingers continued to stroke inside of you. You trembled, shaking, trying so hard to stave off your oncoming orgasm. Tears pricked in your eyes, fingers clenching tightly on the hold you had on the sheets until it hurt. She kept going, ruthless in what she wanted. She had complete control over you.

It was so close, you could practically taste it. You were straining, doing everything you could not to tip over the edge. She was a master of your body, able to play it to perfection. Her tongue kept dragging over your clit, sucking on it, fingers twisting and curling, dragging out every iota of pleasure your body held.

“Agatha,” you sobbed, “please.”

Blue eyes stared up at you, dark and dangerous.

“Please,” you begged.

Her fingers gave another slow stroke. You whimpered, your entire body on fire, wound tight as you did what you were told. You always did what she told you to do.

“Go on, pet,” she said, “keep your eyes on me and you can come.”

You let out a relieved breath. When you let yourself go, the wave of pleasure crashed into you, wave after wave. She held your gaze the entire time, drinking in the way pleasure contorted your body. The way you cried out her name felt holy, a cry of worship as you stared into her eyes.

When she drew back, she held her hand up, tongue running up her fingers. You reached out, grasping her wrist. She let you pull her hand towards you, your lips sliding down her fingers, lapping your arousal from her skin. Her eyes smouldered as she watched you, a pleased smirk on her lips.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you pet,” she murmured, gently stroking you hair with her other hand. The pulse of pleasure that went through you was bright and intense. You liked being her good girl.

Your tongue swirled over each digit, cleaning her up as best you could. A flicker of fondness passed over her face before she pulled it away from you. Leaning forward, her lips pressed against yours, rough and intense, passionate in ways you hadn’t experienced with anyone else. It made you feel wanted, desired, the way you always felt wanted with her. After all, she’d agreed to take you on for your senior thesis when she so rarely took people on.

“Alright, kitten,” she whispered against your lips, “let’s see how many times I can make you come tonight before you beg me to stop.”

When you awoke in the morning, deliciously sore and definitely sated, you rolled over in the large bed, hands reaching for the warm body you were expecting to find beside you. All you found was cool sheets. Squinting your eyes open, the light was still kept at bay from the drawn curtains, but the room was empty of another person. You sat up, rumpled and unsure.

You slipped out of the bed, tugging your clothes back on but your feet bare. You were slow as you eased the door open, padding out onto the landing you’d paid no attention to the night before. On silent feet, you descended to the lower level of the house, following the sound you could just hear.

Agatha was in the kitchen, her back to you, encased in a flowing silk robe. You blinked, pausing as you drank her in. Her hair, wild and out of control, long fingers tapping on the counter, legs bare where they peeked out the bottom of the robe. She was breathtaking in the morning light.

“You’re staring, kitten,” she said, voice still rough from sleep.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping into the kitchen proper.

She turned her head, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyebrows drew together and the corner of her lips turned down.

“Why are you dressed?” she asked, stepping away from the counter, “were you planning on sneaking out in the morning?”

“No, I… I wasn’t sure what was appropriate,” you said.

“Please tell me this wasn’t your first time,” she said.

“Of course not,” you said, “although I suppose it is my first time with my professor,”

She hummed but didn’t give you more of an answer. Anxiety was seeping into your body now.

“I thought you might want me to leave.”

Her eyes snapped back to you, displeasure painting her features.

“Come here.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m not going to ask again, pet,” she said, voice hardened, “come. Here.”

On soft feet you approached her. With sure hands she caught you, fingers pressing into your hips as she held you tightly. Your eyes darted around her face before dragging down. Bare skin met your eyes until the shadow of the robe obscured her from your vision. She was naked under the robe and there was still a part of you that wanted to unwrap her like a present.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked, gaining your attention again.

Your eyes snapped up to hers and you shook your head.

“I thought I’d made it obvious that the only place I want you is with me,” she said, “the only person I want you thinking about is me. The only person I want touching you is me.”

You trembled.

“Do you want that too, kitten?” she asked, drawing closer.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Then you’re mine, pet,” she said, her nose skimming along the curve of your jaw.

Her hand squeezed your hips and her lips pressed to the vulnerable skin behind your jaw before she pulled away. Your breath caught and you felt lightheaded. You ached to pull her back to you, to lose yourself in the feeling of her body and her skin and her mouth. Would you ever stop feeling this way with her? You didn’t think so.

“Now, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been pushing you too hard lately. You can have the weekend off,” she said.

“Oh.” You were still trembling from the brush of her lips and her words, “thanks.”

“So you won’t be needing those clothes,” she said, flippant and dismissive, “you certainly won’t be in them long.”

You flushed, cheeks heating. There was a twist to her lips, amusement twinkling in her eyes. You slipped closer to her again, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Whatever you want, Agatha,” you whispered.

“All I want is you, pet,” she replied.

Turns out, all you wanted was her too.

[w4ndal0ver]

Good Wives Always Know (Wanda x Agatha x Reader)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: daddy!agatha x mommy!wanda x sub!reader

summary: You didn’t really know what you were expecting when Agatha and Wanda found out you were casually seeing them both at the same time, but you didn’t think it would end up like this. 

content warnings: daddy!agatha, mommy!wanda, humiliation, degradation, praise, choking, breath play, nipple play, vibrator use, strap use, spanking, double penetration, strap sucking, power imbalance, bondage, oral sex, fingering, anal sex, spitting, probably more but read at your own discretion! <3 

 word count: 7k

Good Wives Always Know (Wanda x Agatha x Reader)

You tugged against the restraints tied harshly around your wrists, your face flushed as you were sat naked, wrists tied to either side of the headboard of your bed, the two women looking over you dressed completely. You couldn’t believe you’d been caught, you didn’t expect them to ever find out that you were simultaneously seeing them both. While you’d never confirmed exclusivity to either woman, with the dynamic you shared with both individually it was probably expected. 

“Oh honey, you really thought you could keep this little game going forever? Did you honestly believe we wouldn’t find out.” Wanda coos, perching to the left side of you, smiling in her sickeningly sweet way, her fingers brushing over your burning cheek. 

“Of course she thought that.” Agatha laughs, her chuckle a menacing contrast to Wanda’s calming demeanor. “Look at her Wanda, this little slut probably thought she was being clever.” You whined at the pet name, but your cheeks flushing scarlet as Wanda’s eyes opened wider at the contrast in how your other woman speaks to you, a stark difference to the dynamic you shared with her. 

“I just don’t understand how you found the time baby. Keeping up with me and Agatha.” Wanda spoke, her voice deceptively soft as her head tilts to meet your shamed gaze. “That’s quite the schedule. 

“Time? Oh, please.” Agatha cut in again, neither woman allowing you to speak, “She was probably slipping out of my bed and straight into yours, isn’t that right pet?” With that question she grasps your chin, pulling your face towards hers, her lips pursed as you glares down at you, her hand forcing you to nod in response to her question. You didn’t dare speak, you didn’t even know what to say. 

“Now, now, let's not scare her too much. She’s not used to being called out, are you, sweet girl?” Wanda protests, her hand falling onto your thigh and giving you an encouraging squeeze. The combination of both women was turning your brain completely fuzzy as you felt yourself slipping into a submissive role that was being torn between both dynamics. 

“Sweet? There's nothing sweet about her.” Agatha spits, releasing you from her grip, slapping you hard across the face, the noise alone drawing an elicit moan from your lips before you allow your head to drop, your hair falling across your face. “She’s a dirty little whore who thought she could have it all. Look at her now, squirming like the pathetic mess she is.”

“Let’s not be too hard on her, Agatha.” Wanda pouts, her fingers stroking through your sweat sodden hair. “She’s just inexperienced.”

“Inexperienced?” Agatha scoffs, the rage on her cheeks growing, “She’s been playing this game for ages. We’re just the ones to catch her.” This time, Agatha's hand found its way around your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck at your lack of response to any of their questions, even if they hadn’t given you the time to respond. 

“I’m sorry.” You squeak, gasping on the words that get caught in your restricted throat. 

“Sorry? You’re not sorry, you like playing games, don’t you slut?” Her grip returns harsher and you whine against the palm of her hand, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards. 

“I didn’t-” You struggle breathlessly, trying to respond but you’re unable to underneath the brunettes pressure against your throat. 

“Shh, sweet thing, let Agatha have her fun.” Wanda cuts you off, her voice soothing but taunting at the same time. “She’s just upset because you’ve been so naughty. She only wants to teach you how to behave.” 

A wicked grin spreads across Agatha’s face as she loosens her grip and you splutter at the sudden rush of air. She doesn’t let you go completely, enough to let you catch your breath but still hold you captive against the mattress. “Oh, I’m not done yet. But don’t worry pet, you’ll learn. You’re going to beg us to teach you more by the time we’re through.” Her voice drips with disdain as she lets her other hand trace down your body, stopping just above your waist. 

You feel your skin begin to heat up with both fear and desire, your words unable to contain themselves. “I don’t want to, please, don’t-” You start to squirm under her grip, feeling trapped but exhilarated, your hands tugging harder against the restraints. 

“Stop pretending. You want this and don’t you dare act innocent now when you’ve been sneaking behind our backs.” Agatha’s voice rises in anger again, eyes darkening with jealousy as she looks at Wanda, the soft glow of the redhead's eyes beaming down on you doing nothing but spurring her on. 

“I didn’t mean to, I just wanted you both, I didn’t know-” Your words begin to trail off as you realise how desperate you sound with both women on either side of you, both with their hands on different parts of your body. 

Wanda smiles at the admission, her fingers caressing your face as she leans back just slightly to give Agatha more space. “Oh baby, we know. You just don’t know how to pick one, do you.” Her voice was laced with sweet mockery now, your cheeks glowing pink as her tone began to change, a switch up that you were all too well acquaintanced with. “But now, you’ll learn what happens when you can’t choose. You belong to us, whether you like it or not.”

Agatha's lips curl into a smirk as she leans in, bringing her face close to yours, her voice a sharp whisper, “You don’t get to play both sides anymore, you’re ours now, and we’ll make sure you know exactly what that means.” You whine at her words, her hand inching closer to where you needed her, the exchanges between the two women had made you more desperate than you could ever imagine, arousal dripping down the lengths of your inner thighs. 

“Do you understand sweetheart?” Wanda asks carefully, her fingers brushing your goosebumped skin, the pads of her fingertips edging towards your aching nipples. 

“Yes Mommy.” You reply, your lips rolling against each other as Agatha smirks down at you, her fingers pressing down into your pubic bone, hard enough to leave white marks into your skin. 

“How cute, you’ve got your Mommy and your Daddy.” Agatha smirks, not knowing Wanda’s title to you until your shamed admission through glossy eyes as you can’t pick someone to focus on. “Now your Mommy has been telling me some things about you and how much of a greedy slut you are with her, hm?” Even Wanda squirmed slightly at Agatha’s words, but you, you were a whimpering mess underneath them both. 

“I don’t, I’m not-” You exclaim, batting your eyelashes at Wanda who didn’t give you any soft and calming looks back. 

“You’ve never touched her have you?” Agatha states, two fingers reaching down to stroke the length of your cunt, spreading you apart and gathering your arousal onto her fingers. You shake your head, both you and Wanda knowing that their dynamic was different to yours and Agathas. “But that's what she’s good for Wanda, she's such a good little fucktoy when she wants to be, I use her all the time you should try her.” 

With her words, the pressure of her fingertips grew stronger, planting lazy circles against your clit, being spoken about like you’re not there, not getting the attention that you want was driving you insane. You tried everything to snap them back to you, lifting your hips, trying to get the friction that you desperately craved, but Agatha was good at ignoring you. 

“You’re going to show your Mommy how good that tongue of yours is.” Agatha orders, casually removing her hand from between your legs despite your whines of protest, untying the restraints that had held you captive. As soon as you’d been let free, her hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, shoving you onto your knees. 

As Wanda stood, she unbuckled her belt, removed her trousers and her laced underwear, positioning herself in front of your hung face, her legs open and you were practically drooling at the sight of her opened up in front of you, her arousal reflecting the light. 

“Go on honey, I give you permission.” Wanda spoke calmly, watching as Agatha positioned herself behind you, unknowingly to you. You couldn’t care what Agatha was doing as the permission to touch her was the only thing you could focus on. You didn’t know what Wanda liked, but you just performed what Agatha had taught you when you first met, your tongue licking wide strokes up and down the length of her pussy, groaning at the taste of her. 

Just as you started to drive circles into Wanda’s clit with the tip of your tongue, you felt Agatha’s hand collide harshly with your ass, an unexpected moan forced its way through your lips, vibrating conveniently against Wanda’s cunt. 

“You’ve been seeing your Mommy for ten weeks behind Daddy’s back, so you’re getting ten.” Agatha announces, delivering another quick spank to the other cheek. You moaned again, this time you were joined with a high pitched groan from Wanda, who had fallen back on her arms, her hips lifting to meet where your tongue was circling lightly against your clit. 

“Oh baby you’re making Mommy feel so good.” Wanda gasped as your circles got harder and tighter. Agatha delivered two more spanks to you and you groan increasingly louder with each one and the redhead’s hands fall into the locks of your hair, forcing your face closer to her arousal. You started to suck against her clit, your rhythm being put off once again by another spank. 

“You make Mommy sound so pretty with that whore mouth of yours.” Agatha comments and even Wanda whines at the remark, her cheeks flushed and her neck strained as show throws her head back in pure ecstasy. “Look at your Mommy when you make her cum.” She forces your head up, your tongue remaining firmly against Wanda’s clit, the redhead trembling in front of you as Agatha smacks your ass another three times in quick succession was enough to make you fall apart in between them both. 

You could feel Wanda shaking around you, her thighs clenching harder around your face as Agatha spanked you for the penultimate time. Wanda’s chest rose as you sucked against her clit, grazing your teeth over her nub and that was all she needed, she came tumbling over the edge with a pornographic moan, her hands still buried in your hair as she continued to grind against your tongue as she worked herself through her orgasm. 

Just as you leaned away from her, Agatha slapped your ass harder than she ever had before you and groaned in pain, trying to scurry away from her, but she had a tight grip on your thighs, keeping you in place. 

“God your Daddy was right, you are incredible with your tongue.” Wanda praises, changing her position so she’s lying next to you, her hands caressing the red marks left by Agatha. You pout at the redhead, knowing that you could get yourself out of this punishment if you kept acting sweet and innocent, but Agatha would never fall for it. You were right, of course. 

Agatha flips you onto your back, laying you down harshly against the matress. “Don’t give into her Wanda, she wanted our attention and now she’s got it so let’s see how much she can take.” You watch as Agatha reaches for her wand, handing it over to Wanda and you feel your body squirm as your mind flicks to the countless times Wanda has punished you with this toy, edging you over and over until you’re a pathetic mess begging her to let you come. 

“Come on sweetheart, you know you have to be punished so take it like a good girl.” Wanda beams, her smile calming you as Agatha pries open your legs, holding one so you can’t escape from what was about to happen. You hear the vibrations before you feel them, the anticipation making your body tremble as the brunettes' nails dug harshly into your upper thigh. 

Wanda moves the vibrator an inch so it's pressed lightly up against your clit and you whine so desperately to the pleasure that was coursing through your body. You were already so desperate, your arousal leaking and smothering your thighs from being spanked so harshly, your clit pulsating against the vibrations as Wanda pressed the head of the toy harder against you. 

Agatha started to play with your hardened nipples, she was never gentle with you. Her nails were scratching against your nubs, her fingers rolling them harshly. The addition of Agatha’s harsh pulls and twists against your breasts and the increasing vibrations pulsating through your cunt was bringing you unashamedly close to the edge as your thighs begin to tremble, Agatha slaps your erect nipple, making you gasp and try not to tumble over the edge. Before you could even think about it, Wanda removed the vibrator from you, her familiar mockingly sad pout looming over you as Agatha continued to play with your nipples. 

Wanda gives you a few seconds to reset before placing the vibrator back against your clit as your hips buck subconsciously to meet the toy. “Do you like being the center of attention? Having both of us watching your every move?” Wanda asks, her voice slick with a sweet mockery of your current state as you nod so hard you almost pass out.

“Oh she loves it. Look at her.” Agatha jeers, leaning down to bite your right nipple, drawing a high pitched squeal from your throat, “She’s practically begging for more.” 

You felt yourself getting close again, but before you could get there Wanda removed the vibrator once more. You were frustrated, your cheeks flushed, your forehead slick with sweat. You start whining but Agatha grasps your mouth with her flat palm, forcing your whines to be muffled by her strop grip as Wanda places the vibrator against you again. 

You get close embarrassingly fast, not being given enough time to recover. You start trembling and moaning against Agatha’s hand, but before you are given any sort of release the vibrator is removed from you again. Wanda can’t help but laugh at your body sprawled across the mattress, Agatha’s fingers still pulling at your nipples. 

“Please Mommy, I can’t, I need to come, please.” You beg, knowing that it usually worked with Wanda, tactfully choosing not to address Agatha because you know what the answer would be. 

“Okay sweetheart, this time you can come for Mommy okay.” You nod enthusiastically, opening your legs up wider and you can hear Agatha scoff in disbelief at how easily Wanda had caved from one line of pathetic begging. You felt the vibrator again, this time your body relaxed into it, allowing the pleasure to take over your body. You were a stuttering mess, your body squirming despite both womens harsh grips on your skin in an attempt to keep you still. 

This time when you get close, you let your body take over and the orgasm rips fiercely through your body, your muscles contorting from the relief of frustration. Just as Wanda went to turn the vibrator off, Agatha grabs if from Wanda, finding the dial and turning it up to the maximum speed and pressing it hard against your sensitive clit. 

“No way, Daddy is not letting you get off that easy.” Agatha smirks as you do everything you can to get away from the strength of the toy that was being pressed so harshly against you it was painful. Your legs start thrashing against the bed, but Agatha doesn’t stop, she just laughs at your struggle. 

“Please forgive me Daddy, I can’t” You whine desperately, tears forming in your eyes as another painful orgasm rushed through your body against your will, but she still doesn’t give in, she keeps her strong grip on the vibrator, not allowing you to escape from her. 

“You know the word if you can’t do it.” Agatha says, waiting impatiently for a safeword to come out of your mouth, but as she expected, she was met with radio silence, “Yeah thats what I thought you fucking whore, take it like the little slut you are for Daddy.” Agatha laughs as she pushes even harder and you scream in desperation as you feel another orgasm getting dangerously close to your sensitive cunt, you weren’t even sure if you could manage another one. 

Wanda started to draw circles into your skin, her instincts kicking in when she sees a tear stream down your face. She goes to wipe it from your cheek, but Agatha stops her with her spare hand. “Look at how pathetic she looks when she cries, she’s so easy to break.” Agatha says as more tears stream down your cheeks. Wanda manages to brush a few away from your cheek much to Agatha’s distaste. 

“I’ve never seen her like this before, she looks so helpless.” Wanda comments as your body shakes underneath the vibrator, the pain and pleasure combining too much and you’re so overstimulated you can’t help but let the tears fall. 

“Helpless? No doll, she’s nothing more than our slutty little toy and she’s ours to break, look at her, it's pathetic.” With that, she spits at you, her saliva mixing with your tears on your face. This time you’re met with Wanda looking down at you, a satisfied hum leaving her throat as she finally sees what Agatha means. You were done for, if Agatha could convert Wanda so easily, you didn’t know if you’d ever get out of it. 

“I can’t do it Daddy, I’m so close I can’t do it again.” You whine in desperation as another orgasm tried to break you, but you were holding it back so you didn’t have to feel the sensitivity afterwards again. 

“God you’re so pathetic.” Agatha growls, turning the vibrator off and you can breathe again, your aching cunt dripping down onto the bed sheets. You’re barely given a moment to recover before Agatha is unbuckling her belt and forcing you up onto your knees. “It’s a shame, I was going to fuck you after one more orgasm.” Agatha laughed, motioning towards your favourite purple strap that was waiting for you, already attached to the harness. 

“No wait Daddy, Please I’ll do it, I’m sorry.” You whine, you knew this was Agatha messing with your head but your fuzzy state of mind couldn’t see past it, the only thing you knew how to do was beg, even if they called you pathetic. She ignored your attempts, holding her belt between her hands before buckling it back around your hands as she tugged them behind your back, tightening it so you couldn’t move them. You winced at the stretch, but you got no sympathy in return. 

“No its okay sweetheart, you can watch while Mommy gets fucked by Daddy instead of you.” Wanda coos and you could have almost combusted on the spot. You try to move, but your hands behind your back put you off balance and you realise your fate as Agatha slips herself into the harness, lubing it up as Wanda arches her back on the mattress. You couldn’t even whine anymore, your silence was astronomical as you watched the scene play out in front of you. 

Agatha isn’t rough with Wanda, she treats her with respect, knowing the redhead deserved it. “Agatha, no teasing.” Wanda demands as she feels the head of the strap rubbing against her pussy, and Agatha immediately complies, pushing the length of the cock inside of her and relishing in the pornographic sounds that erupted from the redhead's mouth. Wanda’s fingernails dug into the bedsheets, gripping fistfuls of the duvet underneath her as she felt Agatha’s hips begin to thrust gently into her. 

“Fuck you’re so tight for me,” Agatha groans, finding the strength to double her efforts and thrust harder into the redhead, feeling how desperate she was for her. “Makes a change fucking someone who isn’t a pathetic fucktoy.” Agatha shoots her words at you as she squirm against the mattress, your knees begin to ache and your shoulders pulling backwards at un uncomforting level. “You like watching Daddy fuck Mommy huh?” Agatha asks you and Wanda’s blissed out face turns to look at you writhing in your restraints.

“Let me see how wet you are, open those legs for Mommy.” Wanda manages to get out in a fairly casual manner considering Agatha is basically pounding into her now, her hands on her waist, forcing her back onto her cock to meet her thrusts. You do as she says, the wet patch forming underneath you a good enough indicator of how much this was turning you on. 

At the sight of you, to Wanda’s delight, Agatha got rougher with her thrusts, her hand snaking round her body to circle her clit with the tips of two of her fingers. That was all it took, Wanda came crashing around the brunette's cock, her moans unashamedly loud and Agatha looks fairly satisfied with both of your reactions. Before she had a chance to pull out, Wanda lifted her body up with Agatha’s cock still buried inside of her, turning her head to place a kiss against her lips. 

That was only the beginning as the brunette reciprocated, grabbing the back of her neck and tracing her tongue against the surface of Wanda’s, both of them moaning into each other's mouths as Wanda grinded against the base of the strap. That turned you on more than watching them have sex, the way they moulded together in a fierce fight of dominance. Your desperate whines pull them away from each other, both their eyes falling on you. 

To your disappointment, Agatha shimmied her way out of her harness, leaving her wearing her shirt and laced underwear, a small damp patch revealing itself to you and you were ready to give Agatha everything you know she needed. The brunette watched as you licked your lips at the sight of her dampened underwear and she stripped them from her cunt, throwing them to the side before guiding you onto your front, your hands still restrained behind your back. 

“You’re going to make Daddy come as a thank you from me sweetheart.” Wanda said, tucking your hair behind your ear, as Agatha leaned backwards, her legs spread as the redhead helped you into position. She undoes the belt, allowing you to lean on your elbows as you kiss Agatha’s clit, her arousal seeping into your lips. She didn’t like it when you rushed, and you knew how desperate she was for it and how you’d be more likely to get what you want if you please her. 

“Put that mouth to good use slut.” Agatha growls through her desperation, scratching her nails through your hair and digging into your scalp to keep your face in position as you lick swirls through her folds. Unlike Wanda, Agatha rarely made a sound, she just went silent, her eyes always remaining on you through hooded eyes, giving you no satisfaction for making her cum. 

“While you make your Daddy feel good, we’re going to show her what we like to do together when you’re really desperate.” Wanda breathes into your ear, her body slick against yours, biting your earlobe before grabbing your ass and your eyes widened as your tongue worked hard against Agatha’s wet cunt. “Because I can feel how desperate you are.” Wanda smirked, two fingers reaching for your entrance, swiping at your dripping arousal before sucking her fingers into her mouth to taste your desperation plain and simple. 

She starts to push her fingers towards your entrance, before she stops, gathering enough arousal between her fingertips before allowing one of them to graze the rim of your second hole and you groan into Agatha’s pussy, the vibrations making her legs twitch. “You want me in here, don't you love.” Wanda teased, pressing lightly against your asshole, something which you’d never let Agatha do. You nod, your tongue beginning large circles around Agatha’s clit, still remaining slow and composed against her cunt, knowing better than to speed up without instruction.

“I wanna show Daddy.” You say, lifting up to take a breath, but you were immediately forced back down by Agatha’s quick hands and your tongue knows to continue before your brain can tell you to. 

You could feel Wanda shifting her weight behind you before palming the soft skin of your ass a few times before spreading it. The sound which left your mouth and reverberated off of Agatha’s cunt as Wanda pressed her tongue against your asshole was bordering on humiliating. You pussy clenched around nothing, aching at the way she teased your rim. 

Wanda hummed against your skin before pulling back to rub a slick finger against it. “You take it so well, don’t you? You like getting your ass fucked by Mommy?”

The flush she brought to your cheeks had you squirming, but your tongue remained present on Agatha’s clit, the tug she had on your hair made you speed up just a fraction, the tremble in her thighs spurring you on. 

Wanda reached round your body to circle your clit in order to distract you from the way her fingertip dipped inside. She was efficient with it, working it deeper and deeper until you could feel her knuckle against your skin. Your pussy tightened with every gentle thrust as she worked, dripping down to where her other hand slid across your clit. 

By the time she lined a second finger alongside the first, Agatha was letting out the prettiest little grunts. You watched for a while, enjoying the rock of her hips and the wet noises your tongue made against her heat. You groaned desperately when you felt Wanda’s second finger stretching deep inside of you. 

She was working hard to stretch you out, knowing what would be coming next, but you didn’t. Before you could even question why Wanda was preparing you up, Agatha’s chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace and her hands in your hair gripped tightly and you knew she was close. You continued the exact rhythm you’d found with your tongue and within a few seconds Agatha’s thighs were trembling before trapping your head between her legs while you sent her over the edge with a few breathy moans, your head transfixed into face as Wanda stretched you out with her two fingers. 

As soon as Agatha recovered, Wanda gently pulled out of you and before you could protest at the emptiness, the brunette pulled you onto her body, colliding her lips with yours so she could taste herself on your tongue.

“Are you ready to make it up to us like the dirty little whore you are?” Agatha pulled away and whispered into your ear. You nodded desperately and before you could move yourself, Agatha grabbed a fistfull of your hair and forced you onto the floor on your already sore knees. You grunted at the pain, but you received nothing as you watched both women put on harnesses, Agatha's purple one a lot bigger than Wanda’s pale pink dildo.

You sat and waited in anticipation, falling against the heels of your feet, your hands remaining on your thighs. Both women, strapped up, sit themselves next to each other at the foot of the bed, looking down at you on your knees. 

“She’s got so much potential, doesn’t she?” Wanda said and your face flushed pink at the praise, your eyes meeting Wanda’s and you were met with the kind gentle face you were used to. 

“Potential?” Agatha scoffed, “Sure, if you mean as a toy for us to use.” Your face flushed a darker red, changing your gaze to meet Agatha’s unforgiving smirk. “Come on slut , you know what to do.” Agatha smiled, looking down at her cock, waiting for you to clasp your lips around it. 

So you do exactly that, taking just the head into your mouth, licking around the top as if she could actually feel it before bobbing your head down further to take as much of her in as you could. Once you’d adjusted, she grabbed your hair, pushing you further down the shaft until you choked and spluttered against the strap. She lets you up for air, before Wanda guides your face towards her cock, gently forcing you to do the same thing on her. You oblige, not once closing your mouth as the two women take turns in having your lips around their cocks.

“Oh you poor thing,” Wanda cooed as tears began to stream down your face as you spluttered around her dildo for the second time, before Agatha grabs you and forces her cock into your mouth with a harsh thrust. The ache in your core growing and growing. “You needed two of us to take charge and put you in your place, didn’t you.” Despite Agatha's cock sliding further down your throat you manage to nod at Wanda's words. 

“And this is your place, desperately sucking on Mommy and Daddy’s cocks before we fuck you with them.” Agatha jeers and the words make you choke and they stop. You sit against your heels again, a mixture of saliva and tears running down your face as you look up at both of them who just look so unbelievably satisfied with themselves. They’d almost broken you. 

You get pulled back up onto the bed, forced onto your front so your head is buried in the pillows that had fallen out of place into the middle of the bed. Wanda shifted behind you, swinging a leg over your own and steadying herself with a hand against your back. Agatha walks around the side of the bed, sitting against the end, right next to where your head was lying. 

Slick fingers pressed into your asshole again, Wanda was relatively careful, checking with you over and over that you could take her fingers with relative ease before the blunt head of her toy pressed against your rim. 

“Don’t be shy.” Wanda encouraged, looking at how your face was being pushed into the pillows. 

“Daddy wants to see your face when she fills up your ass.” Agatha snarked from above and as much as you rolled your eyes, there was no getting away from it as two fingers pressed under your chin and she forced you to look directly into her eyes. 

The slightest increase against your asshole and you were fighting Agatha’s grip, not able to keep eye contact, but she was firm on you looking at her as Wanda’s hand groped at your asscheek, spreading you even wider so she could see you stretch around the tip of her cock. 

Wanda pressed deeper, but not by much. Her hands wrapped around your hips, caressing the skin while her cock rocked gently. 

“More please Mommy.” You grunt, pressing your ass back to heighten the intensity. You met Agatha’s smirk and with a few more gentle rocks you whined at the feeling of her hips pressed against your ass, the way her strap stretched around you, and the clench of your empty pussy. There was a temptation to bury your face into the pillows, but you’d never seen Agatha’s eyes light up the way they were right now. 

“Tell Daddy how much you like it when Mommy fucks you like this.” Wanda gasps, wrapping her hands around your hips, working her cock steadily until there was no stretch to speak of, just the rhythmic shift of her. 

“I love it when Mommy fucks me like this.” You stutter through breathy moans, but there was a reason Agatha had started moving towards you and you knew what was coming. 

You were aware of how your cunt was dripping onto the sheets, your spread knees meaning it had no stimulation whatsoever as Wanda fucked your other hole. Agatha kneed her way closer, “Look at you, this is the sluttiest I’ve ever seen you.” 

You whine as you let their hands coax you up until you are sandwiched between them. Your back arched, pressing your bare chest against Agatha as she pushed the pillows out of the way. One hand held her shoulder, the other reaching back to feel Wanda's strong grip on your hip as she kept her gentle rhythm. 

“You’re dripping you fucking whore.” Agatha sneered, teasing your opening with her fingers. Her grin was wolfish and unforgiving.

“Daddy.” You panted.

Her fingers pulled back to circle over your drowned clit, just the slick slip of her skin against yours was driving you insane. She was drinking in the desperate buck of your hips as the head of her cock brushed past your folds as Wanda kept a tight grip of you as she fucked your ass. 

“Please Daddy, I wanna be full, I want both of you inside of me-” 

Before you can finish begging, Agatha guides her strap into your entrance and your eyes roll to the back of your head, your skull resting back on Wanda’s shoulder as Agatha works her way inside of you, both of them finding the same rhythm with each other. 

“You’re so lucky to have both of us, you know that right?” Wanda pants as she watches in awe at the way your body trembled as both women thrust inside of you at the same time.

“Fuck yes.” You gasped.

You could barely breathe, you could’ve cried at the sensation. Not fast or aimed enough to be pleasurable, but deep enough to make you crave them both. Every shift of Agatha’s cock inside of you was a reminder of the other one. 

“You act like a whore you get treated like a whore, is that why you did this?” Agatha asks, leaning down between thrusts to lick at your nipples teasingly while her hand dipped between your legs and kindly circled your clit. You nod, earning you a swift sharp thrust into your pussy making you whine in pleasure as they sped up their adjoined rhythm. “You’re nothing but our filthy whore, this is what you deserve, this is what you were made for, having all your holes filled like this.” 

“I’m so full.” You whined, feeling the low thrum of an orgasm approaching, but every time you felt it you couldn’t chase it because of a different sensation on your body. 

“Not full enough.” Agatha growled into your skin, her fingers tracing your lips before you allowed her in, your tongue immediately sucking at her fingers. “My god, you’re so fucking dirty.” She breathed, looking at the way your body was crumbling under the pressure. Agatha held your hips and started bucking up harder into you and you keened at the rough treatment, but once Wanda matched the relentless pace, the feeling had your eyes squeezed shut. 

“You let us do whatever we want to you. Good little girl.” Wanda praised as you kept getting louder and louder, no longer caring what you sounded like. They were both working in and out, but once Agatha’s fingers found your clit again and rubbed tight pressured circles against it, you felt your body untense as the pain subsided and all you could feel was an intense amount of pleasure. But it was too much, there was no way you would ever catch up to the orgasm that kept building and fading.

“We’re not going to stop. You can be a good whore and come on our cocks now, or you can take it for another hour, we can do this all day.” Agatha spat, getting impatient with your disobedience, but Wanda traced love hearts on your back and the combination of the two relaxed you. 

“Breathe, just take it honey.” Wanda whispered, and it took a second for your brain to kick into gear again, to fight the fuzziness that was stopping your orgasm. 

“Oh fuck Mommy I’m-” You gasped, “Daddy please can I-” 

“Oh I know.” You could hear the smile on Wanda’s face. 

“You better come like a filthy little whore all over our cocks,” Agatha ordered, rocking you up and down until your brain went blank and the sheer height of it took over. “Now.” 

You felt like you were there forever, eyes squeezed shut, nails dug into both womens arms. After a few more thrusts and circles of your clit, it all crashed down. Burning hot pleasure ripped up your spine in controllable waves, the heat between your legs spreading everywhere. They didn’t pull out until you were jerking violently, painfully aware of how tight you were clenched around you. 

They gave you a minute before warning you that they were pulling out and you fell against the mattress in a pathetic sweat, your body shaking as the two women took off their harnesses and sat enveloping you between them.

Agatha was the first to get you water, her harsher techniques meaning her aftercare was incredibly important to her. She helped you sip it slowly while Wanda cradled you in her arms. 

“You know we’re thankful you were two timing us, right?” Agatha laughed, kissing your sodden forehead, brushing your wet hair from your face. 

“So wait, I don't have to choose?” You say in a thankful shock, leaning into both women. 

“Haven’t we just proved you can have both of us.” Wanda said, her head cocked to the side and her eyebrow raised as the flush of your cheeks. 

“Like we said, you’re ours now.” Agatha smirked, twirling your hair around her fingers. “Come on let's get you cleaned up.”

“Give me a minute, I don’t think I can walk.”