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sp0-t · 23 days ago

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Retired!John Price & Bevcart girl!reader

pt. 1 | ➤ pt.2 (smut)

💿 (a/n): can you tell where I gave up

SMUT!MDNI! (age gap! fem reader! suspense! slow burn! PLOT! M!receiving oral! F!receiving oral! piv! cumming inside!)

Price who asks you out that day on the course, even though he would’ve loved to take you right there and then bending you over your golf court. However he restrained himself, and his cock.

Price who reserved dinner with you at 7, brought you flowers, picked you up, and drove you to the restaurant. A true gentleman through and through, at least on the outside. Truly Price was thinking of pulling over on the way there and shoving his semi hard cock into your sweet pussy in the backseat of his car.

When you reached the restaurant Price was at your side of the car almost instantly, opening the door for you and offering his hand as support. You took it and stepped out of your side, price closing the door, and locking the car behind you. The restaurant was a bit fancier, not overly fancy and not too casual. Once you guys were sat you both made small chatter, some of the common stereotypical first date questions and answers.

“To be honest love, I didn’t think you’d go out with an old man like me”

He chuckles a bit at his own comment, and takes a swig of his whiskey.

“Well, I uh, tend to like them a bit older”

You speak with a slow and sultry tone while you look at him through you lashes from across the table. Your right foot slowly glides up his pant leg as you look into his eyes. It slides all the way up to his inner thigh, just next to his crotch.

“Is that right, love?”

Johns face is a bit flushed, half from your taunting and half from the whiskey in his system. But his gaze on you doesn’t falter, that is until the waiter decides to come around to bring your food. Your foot slowly decending back to its place on the floor.

The night continues on with more chatting, and heavy glances at each other, from across the table, with more than just infatuation.

You both walk back to Price’s car, hand in hand, with your purse slung over prices shoulder as he guides you two to his car. Prices opening your door and letting you slide into the seat, placing your bag on your lap. You both making eye contact with how close you two are, both of you slowly inching closer and closer to each other, lips about to brush when..

*HONK* “Hey are you guys leaving? There’s like no parking at this time!”

You could swear you saw Price roll his eyes in such frustration. Price begrudgingly pulls away from you to respond to the passerby.

“Yeah mate! Give me a second!”

Price makes sure you have everything before closing your door, then walking over to his side and starting the car to pull out of the spot. He waves to the other car before pulling out of the parking lot. You both make small banter on the short ride home, the low music playing in the background. Price parks in front of your apartment complex, not wanting the night to end so soon.

“Would it be alright with you if I walked you to your flat door?”

You giggle at him even asking that.

“Of course, I’d love that.”

Walking hand in hand up to your apartment, you lived on the second floor. You both reached the top of the stairs, you slightly guiding price to your apartment. When you reach your door you both come to a stop. You both truly know what’s about to happen, yet none of you want to admit that out in this empty hallway, even if no one’s around.

“Are you going to stand there till I let you in?”

You tease him a bit for the awkward silence between you two.

“What, you calling me a vampire, not that old love.”

You both linger a bit in each others presence before you finally break the tension.

“Would you like to come in”

It wasn’t a question really, more of a statement.

“I’d love to.”

This is what the night had been leading up too, Price caging you between his body and your door as his lips attacked your neck and lips, his hands exploring what they couldn’t have all night. His hands slip to your ass giving is a squeeze before a harsh slap of his palm leaves your ass stinging. His tongue makes its way in your mouth finding and claiming over every crevice, his lips pull away from yours before he mutters

“Where’s your room love?”

You catch your breath before you mutter a quick “down the hall, to the left.”

Price is quick to carry you, wrapping your legs around his torso, taking you to your room. Once he reaches the room his lips find yours again as he places you on the bed, prices bodyweight pressing you deeper into the bed.

Prices hand comes up to the hem of your dress tugging it up to tell you he wants it off. You both separate as you pull your dress over your head, and he stands between you legs as he pulls off his shirt. You both find each others lips again as Price is pulling at his belt to get his pants off. You move his hands and start to unzip his pants, Price helping you pull them down a bit, just below his bulge. You palm him through his boxers as your tongues dance in each others mouth.

You stand from the bed, hand still on his crotch. You turn him so he’s now sitting on the bed where you were. You finally break the kiss and slide to your knees in between his big thighs. You lean in closer your lips meeting his clothed cock with a little kiss. “Such a fucking tease, huh love?” You look up at him with such an innocent smile across your lips. Price lifts his hips before he pulls his pants and boxers all the way down, kicking out of them and throwing them somewhere in your room. He sits back down, his thick and chubbed up cock right in front of your face, a bit of precum dripping from his tip.

Your tongue licks his precum up, from his base to the tip, wrapping your lips around his it. He groans as you start to bob your head up and down slowly. “Fuck love” Prices hand comes up to your hair making a makeshift ponytail in his hand as he starts to slowly guide your head to bob up and down his shaft, your hand coming up to stroke the length of his cock that can’t fit down your throat.

“Fuck doll, I’m about to cum” You start to bob your head faster, sucking harder every time you drag your lips up his shaft. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth before you taste his cum at the back of your throat. You swallow his cum as you look up at him through your lashes. He looks down at you, hand cupping your cheek, his thumb slowly swiping over your lips before he pushes his thumb past them. You take his thumb in your mouth, softly sucking on the digit, and swirling your tongue around it.

With Prices other hand he reaches behind you as he unhooks your bra easily. He slips his thumb out of your mouth, a small string of saliva forming, before quickly disappearing. Price lifts you up off the floor and onto the bed. “Lay back for me dove.” You lean back a bit on your elbows, still wanting to see what he was doing. Price pats your leg twice, signaling you to lift your hips. You lift them as he peels your panties away from your wet cunt. Price chuckled a little “you’re fuckin’ soaked love.”

He brings one finger up to your cunt, dragging it through your folds and teasing your clit a bit. Now it was his turn to get on his knees, he pulls your hips closer to him. He starts by kissing and biting your thighs before leaving a kiss on your clit and licking a stripe up your pussy. You gasp a bit before fully laying all the way back, head hitting the sheets.

He works his tongue up and down and in patterns that feel fucking amazing, your hands make their way to his head, combing them through his hair before slightly tugging. He groans into your pussy and picks up the pace a little, sucking on your clit as his fingers come back to your entrance. He slides one in, it taking up more space than expected, you moan and lift your hips closer to his face, basically grinding on it.

Price’s free arm comes up to pin your hips in place as he works out your pussy. He slides another finger in as he starts to stretch and scissor your cunt to make sure you can take him. After he feels you’ve been properly stretched he starts fucking his fingers up into you faster as his tongue works your clit. “sh- shit, I’m gunna cum John, fuck!”

“That’s it, come all over my fingers for me, that’s a good girl.”

As you cum, your hips jolt and continue to ride out your orgasm by grinding on Price’s face. Your hips drop to the bed as you look up at price, his nose to his chin covered in your juices. He pulls his fingers out of you, and brings them to your lips. You take them into your mouth as you suck them dry and he slides them out. Price brings his hand to the back of your head and pulls you closer, having his lips meet yours. He pulls away and hints for you to scooch back on the bed, he takes his spot on the bed between your legs. “You tell me if anything bothers you, ya?” He looks down to you as he rubs your thigh, you nod your head but Price won’t take that. “Need you to say it for me love”

“I’ll tell you”

“Good, love. Now, let me make you feel good.”

He grabs his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance, his tip teasing your hole before he pushes his tip in. You gasp as he starts to push more of his cock in, letting out little whimpers at the slight stretch. His cock was about half way in “you okay love?” He leans down to place kisses on your chest and neck. “Yes, keep going, please”

The rest of his cock slides in as he groans in your ear, you let out mini whimpers as he starts to pull out again. He pulls out almost all the way, leaving his tip inside you before he pushes himself back in. He starts to move his hips harder and faster, your nails digging into his back as he continues to pound into you. “Fuck baby, been wanting you since I first saw you in that little skirt of yours, fuck!” His pace starts to pick up a bit more, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks into you like it’ll be his last time.

“Where do you want me to come baby, huh?” He smirks and lets out a breathy laugh as he peels his body off you, now being able to see your fucked out face. He grabs your hips as he bucks harder into you, on the verge of letting go. “Fuck! Tell me baby, please”

“Inside John, fuck, please John!”

“Of course baby” Price uses the rest of his energy to fuck into you as he cums into your fucked cunt. He continues to fuck into you and you cum shortly after. Price collapses on you a bit, trying to be wary of his weight on you. He wraps his arms around you as he rolls to the side, bringing your body on top of his. His hands slide down your body as he reaches to his cock, he gently and slowly pulls himself out of your cunt. His hands come back up to your head as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Thank you love”

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m00nymonster · 28 days ago

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So there was a sexyenby contest and it was wild

[ID: a 5 page comic. Panel one: Amena walks into a room where Murderbot is watching a display screen on a couch. Amena: Hey SecUnit, have you been on social media lately? MB: Of course not. Why? Panel two: Amena shows MB a tablet. Amena: You were entered in a sexyenby contest. MB, in a much larger bolded font: WHAT?! Panel three: Amena looks at the tablet as Murderbot stands up and activates its arm gun. Amena: Yeah, you won the last two polls. MB: Tell me who to shoot. Amena: Oh! You got dropped! Too many bot votes. Panel four: Amena looks at MB as MB glares to the side. MB: Bots? Amena: Yeah. MB: BOTS. Amena: Yeah. MB: ….. Panel five: there are several boxes with a black background. The boxes are in decending order. The font is different to indicate this conversation is on the feed. GunShip: Uh oh, I think it's on to us. Ship: :( JollyBaby: noooooo SecSys: Perihelion, what do we do? Perihelion: …… SecUnit: ART WHAT THE FUCK /ID]

#murderbot #the murderbot diaries #tmbd #murderbot diaries #asshole research transport #murderbot fanart #amena #sexyemby contest #sexyemby contest 2025 #gunship murderbot diaries #jollybaby murderbot diaries #murderbot comic #secunit #tumblr sexyenby 2025 #tumblr sexyenby tournament #tumblr sexyenby contest

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spacedace · 3 months ago

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dpxdc story snippet:

(references to blood & gore below the cut)

Clark wasn't sure why they bothered.

Elle Constantine looked, if anything, even less repentant about her actions during the mission after the long, thorough lecturing she’d received.

Zantanna had warned them that the girl was her father’s daughter in most ways. That young Elle was crass, messy, prone to con artistry and outright theft and lying when it suited her even when on her best behavior.

Even still, no one could say she didn’t have a good heart. Not even Bruce had doubted that her intentions in all things - while at times self-serving - were ultimately meant to help and protect people. She was, though not the shining ideal that some strove to present to the world, still every bit a hero at the end of the day.

It was the main reason that despite her reputation for mischief and mayhem, that she’d been allowed to join the Titans. Along with a heavy dosage of hope that the other teens would be a good influence on the girl. That a friendship would blossom and there’d be a change for the better as a result - even her father seemed hopeful she’d lose at least some of the rougher edges she’d picked up from him over the years.

If their hopes had any merit, Clark still wasn’t sure. Jon spoke highly of the girl and even seemed to have developed as serious a crush on her as the one he had for Damian. Reports from the team of young heroes seemed to indicate that she gelled well with the rest of the Titans offering some glimmer of hope that things were working but…

Well.

“So can I go get hosed off now, or what?” The young magician asked, flicking one hand towards the dirt and blessedly away from where Clark and Bruce were standing before her.

Blood splattered on the ground in a rolling drumbeat of heavy droplets, so drenched that her arms still dripped unsettling red even after the attempt at flicking the worst of it off. It oozed sickeningly down her wrist as she lifted one hand to examine her nails boredly, already darkening and conjealing where it puddled around her on the ground.

She was absolutely soaking in blood. Arms covered in dripping red and clotted bits of vicera all the way up to her elbows. Entire front spattered and stained so completely with offal that even the black fabric took on an uneasy sheen of red. She had an ugly smear if ichor across one cheek. A few of her unfortunate dark curls plastered to her temple thanks to sticky ichor swiped across her brow. Her mouth a gruesome, nightmarish mess of gore from where she’d sunk her teeth into flesh and torn pieces away during her vicious, feral attack.

She looked like the final girl in a horror movie.

One that had surrendered to the madness and become just as monstrous as her foe by the end.

They’d reveiwed the footage from the camera in Damian’s mask on the way over. Watching, trapped in a nauseating first person perspective, as the girl seemed to forget she had magic entirely and decended on the main demonic enemy the Titans had been dealing with like a rabid dog.

Clark, not for the first time, wished that Diana was there. The Amazon would have likely only encouraged the behavior - it was a toss up on if it was Diana or Bobo who had taught the girl how to tear into a person like that, and disturbingly likely to have been a combination of the two. But if Wonder Woman had been present at least Elle might have given him and Bruce some semblence of actual attention while they talked to her - even if it was only second hand.

From everything he knew, the Amazon was one of the very - very - small handful of authority figures that the girl truly respected. They might have had half a chance of some of the disaproval they were trying to impart sinking in if Diana was there with them. Even if all Elle took from it was a comment on her fighting style lacking in some way rather than anything of true concern. It would have at least been something. At least until Diana inevitably broke out into a proud smile and patted the girl’s head and commented about her having a warrior’s heart or some such.

That the girl wasn’t more of a terror than she already was with JL Dark’s motely crew as her main influences and John Constantine as a father was a miracle Clark perhaps wasn’t nearly thankful enough for.

“Menace!”

Speak of the devil.

Clark watched as the girl’s unimpressed expression brightened into excitement at the sound of her father’s voice rising up over the general din of the scene. Batman and Superman and their lecturing solidly forgotten as she spun on her heel to see the trenchcoat clad man striding over to them. “Dad-saster!”

In half a dozen steps and a flourish of magic the girl was leaping at the older magician and being swept up in John’s arms with a bright, excited laugh.

Constantine’s eyes were always a little sharp, even when he was in a headonistic stupor, but his gaze cut as deep as a razor as he finally released the girl from the tight hug and swayed back to look her over. The lines of his face warning all that dared to look that if he found so much as a scratch on the teenager before him that he’d bring down a fury upon the world that would make even the devil tremble in fear.

The fact that a not insignificant amount of the blood his daughter was soaked in had transfered to him during the hug didn’t help the image. His rumpled white button-up shirt suddenly a gruesome Rorscharch, and his famous trench not much better. His hands were already red from the bare few seconds of contact.

Elle perhaps was right in her assessment that she’d needed a hose to be ride of the grizzley remains of the villian she had - quite literally - torn into. Clark was definitely right in thinking that she took after her father.

Even still, despite the macabre scene they made, Clark couldn’t deny that his heart softened at least a little at the obvious love and care the usual bitterly cynical and callous magician showed his adopted daughter. The fact that the girl, even as a teenager when children so often became antagonistic and rebellious with their parents, so openly adored her father in turn didn’t hurt. If there was one thing Clark and everyone else who had ever met the girl could agree on it was this: Elle Constantine, when she loved, did so openly and with every inch of who she was.

“You alright?” Constantine had his hands on the girl’s slim shoulders, holding her out just far enough to look her up and down. “Heard you and the band had a spot of trouble.”

His face was stoney as he took in the blood, and Clark could have sworn he saw a spark of gold pop warningly at the magician’s fingertips. It was something he’d noted happened with Elle whenever she was experiencing some kind of heightened emotion. Her magic burning an acidic neon green in place of the deceptive warm glimmer of her father’s powers, making her look strangely like the more dangerous of the two.

Elle gave a small laugh, reaching out to pat one of his arms and leaving a smeared, red handprint behind. The utter disregard either had for the Gallo film levels of blood soaking the both of them made Clark feel a little queasy. It also made him think that perhaps they should have been looking into just what missions - exactly - Elle Constantine had been tagging along on over the years with Justice League Dark.

Even Bruce with his mess of unruly, defiante children he was only just barely able to keep in line was able to - mostly - shield them from the ugliest of crime scenes until they were older. That the fifteen year old girl he was watching now was so completely disensitised to so much blood was cause for a lot of alarm.

“All good. None of it’s mine.” Elle waved her other hand towards the red she was still - quite literally - dripping in. “Minor demon. Barely more than an imp.”

Clark watched as she paused, her cheerful smile flattening as something deeper and darker crept into her expression. A bleak, ravenous darkness gilding the girl’s edges in a way that made an incomprehensible cold sink deep into Clark’s bones just to glimpse. He watched, unable to look away as her already eeire white-blue eyes bled that dizzying neon green. “It went after Big Bird.”

Jon.

Clark had seen it on Damian’s footage. His son slammed hard to the ground and gasping. Horrifically vulnerable to the magic of the creature looming over him. Damian - relatively unharmed thankfully - had been pinned in place by a heavy slab of concrete, entirely unable to reach the other boy. Lian and Connor had been stuck fending off the wave of smaller, vicious creatures the demon had summoned to attack the city. Clark’s son had been at the demonic creature’s mercy and unable to do anything about it until -

“And you went and forgot all your good sense.”

Constantine - to Clark’s surprse - gave the girl a worried, disapproving frown. He sounded…well, he sounded like Clark and Bruce had just moments before the magician had arrived. Though where their lecturing had been utterly ignored, the girl did look appropriately apologetic and chastized at her father’s words.

Constantine didn’t let go of her, though his hands did move to settle on her upper arms. Not a painful, cruel grip but the hold of a man trying very hard to not let his desperation bruise the precious figure before him. Love for one’s child bred the deepest fear Clark had ever known, and it seemed that not even Constantine was immune to such things.

“I know. I just…” Elle’s eyes, now back to their unnerving original color, dropped to stare at the sloppy knot of her father’s tie, not meeting his gaze in the way guilty children were prone to. “I didn’t even think I just saw him there and the thing was going on, talking about carving out his heart and -”

Clark hadn’t heard that part.

Damian had been too far away for the mic on him to pick up the demon’s words, only the low gutteral hissing noises that rattled throughout the monsteroys entity’s voice. Clark felt that same uncomfortable mix of unease and thankfulness towards Elle for what she’d done to protect his son that seemed to be a staple of dealing with the Constantines.

“And you’re lucky your brothers had the sense you didn’t.” Constantine jumped in. Giving the petite girl in his hold a small, gentle shake. “If they’d been as wound up as you were all four of you could have been in the shit in a serious way.”

Clark glanced towards Bruce at the mention of Elle’s brothers, trying to gage his partner’s reaction to the mention of them. It was still unclear the situation surrounding Elle’s “brothers” and who - or what - they were. Elle’s file only said the girl shared a link with her three older brothers and that they were always with her. Whether the entities mentioned were actually the girl’s brothers or if it was merely what she had come to call them was…unclear. Plenty of magic users could create bonds with supernatural entities, and some even refered to them as companions or friends.

A few absent comments from Justice League Dark implied that there was something else going on. Though attempts to get more information were usually shut down. Responses ranging from polite but firm statements that it wasn’t a story for anyone but Elle herself to share, to outright hostile shut downs of the subject. Seeing Detective Bobo so uncharacteristicly furious when it had been brought up with him had been…unsettling, to say the least. The chimpanzee was usually a calm, level headed sort. That much emotion was startling and - to those familiar with him - more than enough to know to leave the subject alone.

“I know.” Elle said, voice soft and terribly young sounding. The stubborn expression edged with contrition that settled onto her face a moment later was all John Constantine. Adopted or no, she was truly her father’s daughter.

As terrifying a thought as that was.

Lifting her eyes to meet her father’s stern expression levely, Elle titled her chin at a stubborn - annoyingly familiar - angle. “I’m not going to say sorry for it.”

Constantine for his part, only sighed in the face of his own mulishness being turned on him. Clark couldn’t blame the man. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d found himself staring down at his own tightly held sense of justice or Lois’s unshakable determination while talking with Jon. It was hard enough when you had a kid that took so much after his hellcat of a mother, Clark couldn’t imagine what it might be like to have one that took after Constantine.

The magician closed his eyes for a moment, clearly debating with himself, before opening them again to fondly roll them at his stubborn, crass daughter. Shifting them around so she was tucked against his side under one arm he cast his gaze over the ugly remains of the battlefield. The way his stern disapproval had melted into an impressed expression did not bode well for the girl getting any more lecturing on her decision making in the feild that day.

“Not gonna ask you to be.” He said, tone of his voice strange and fond all at once. “But it’s something we’re gonna have to work on. Especially if your going to be crashing with these Titans of yours now too.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Elle was going to be staying at the Tower with the rest of the kids on weekends and over stretches of their vacations from school.

Clark had forgotten about that part of their little Elle Constantine Domestication plan.

He watched, feeling a bit ill, as Jon and the rest of the Titans - sensing that the book had been firmly shut on the discussion between Elle and the League members - swept in to swarm the girl. The gaggle of teens fussing and fawning over their team mate in celebration of her (brutally vicious) victory. Constantine patting his daughter on the back hardily and giving a smoke filled laugh as Jon scooped the younger magician up and spun her in a grateful hug, dropping her down on the ground just so Cheshire Cat could tackle the smaller girl in anther fierce embrace.

Blood was smeared across the Crest of El emblazoned upon Jon’s chest, darkening the blue of his sleeves, a line of red swept along his collarbone and neck where blood-soaked curls had been tucked a moment ago . A gruesome impression of the girl that had just been in his arms, staining his suit with Elle’s silhouetted after image. An ugly reality of what the girl was capable of that Clark’s son seemed entirely indifferent to.

Clark tried not to think of it as some kind of omen.

---

Info on the AU:

This is a "Danny doesn't know he was cloned" AU where Elle and the other clones realized things were Not Good (TM) and escaped while they could, eventually ending up crossing paths with Constantine and eventually getting adopted by him (it's a toss up on who is more surprised by that: Elle and her brothers, the world at large or Constantine himself).

In this au the escape escape from Vlad didn't quite go to plan and Elle was the only one that made it out largely in tact (read: wasn't turned to goo by Vlad). She was so desperate not to loose her brothers that she managed to grab onto their Cores before they total destabilized and fused them with her own, to uh...complicated results.

Effectively, Elle's Core is keeping all of them going which leaves Elle pretty weak in the ghost power department, since her Core is basically an overloaded fusebox one bad day from blowing completely. Her brothers end up behaving more like how Deadman does in DC, where they can only be seen/heard by magic users and the like, only with the added limitation that they can't go too far away from Elle or all of them will end up having issues from it.

All to say Elle relies more on the magic John and Zantanna teach her than her ghost powers. Oh and the teeny-tiny issue that if Elle destabilized it wouldn't just be her End, it'd be the End for all of her brothers to.

Good thing Vlad doesn't know that she survived :) It'd be a shame if he found out and tried to do something to use her against Danny :) If anything happened to her and her brothers that sure would be bad :) Especially with Constantine in the mix :)

#dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #clark kent #john constantine #constantine adopts elle au #jon kent #clark is not emotionally prepared for elle to be running around Titan's tower unsupervised #super serious chaos #pre super serious chaos

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rizzlesregal13 · 3 months ago

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Maybe Using Magic Isn’t That Bad… Not When It’s Just The Two Of Us

***NSFW - MDNI***

Agatha x Reader 💜

With the Saturday night dance party over, and Nicki & Ella finally tucked up in bed, what started as playful teasing quickly turns into something more...especially when your magic gets involved.

A/N: I had no intention for this to decend into smut central… it was supposed to be cute and fluffy… clearly my mind had other ideas. Oopsie 🙈😏

Saturday evenings in our house were always “something”.

Not the “witchcraft and chaos” kind of “something” Agatha revelled in... well, not just that... but the good kind. The kind where our living room became a dance floor, the music was too loud, on this occasion Pink Pony Club, a small disco ball spun, and any sense of decorum flew right out the window.

And tonight...was no exception.

Ella was perched on my hip, giggling uncontrollably as I spun and tipped her in time with the beat. Her little hands clung to my shoulders, her brunette curls bouncing with every move. She wasn’t even trying to dance anymore, she was just enjoying the ride, possibly thinking I was her very own “pink pony”.

Nicki, on the other hand, was locked in an ambitious battle with Agatha, attempting a step-cross-leg manoeuvre that neither of them were doing particularly well at. Agatha towered over him, her longer legs working against Nicki’s as he stubbornly tried to keep up and not trip over her feet.

The result? Absolute, silliness.

“Kid, if I stretch you just a teensy bit, I think we might nail this,” Agatha teased, her blue eyes flashing with mirth.

“Hey! No magic!” I shot her a look, though my amusement was hard to hide. “This is a magic-free dance floor.”

Agatha huffed dramatically, clutching her chest as if I had just shot her.

“You wound me, hon. Truly.”

“You’ll live.” I smirked, twirling Ella one last time before setting her down so she could run to Nicki and Agatha.

Nicki, determined to master the step, dragged Ella into the mix, her tiny feet mimicking his with unwavering enthusiasm. This was what it was all about. Not the spells, not magic, not the thrill of bending reality to our will.

Just this… the four of us.

I watched as Agatha’s expression softened, her ever-present smirk shifting into something… gentler, something unguarded. There were no sharp smirks, no teasing, no wicked little grins that she wore like armour. Just her, just Agatha, playing with our kids. Being soft in a way she rarely let herself be… that very few people got to see.

And god, it kills me how much I love her in moments like this.

Because I know her past. I know she isn’t perfect. I know she’s done terrible things, that she’s hurt people, taken what she’s wanted without caring about the consequences. And yet, here she is, with her arm around our son and daughter making up crazy dances, as laughter ripples out of all three of them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She caught me watching her, and in true Agatha fashion, cocked a knowing brow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

She left Nicki & Ella, and prowled toward me, slipping an arm around my waist before I could protest.

“You were having a moment.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was not.”

“Oh, you so were.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What was it this time? Overwhelmed by my stunning dance skills? Enchanted by my presence?”

“More like overwhelmed by your complete lack of rhythm.”

Agatha gasped. “How dare you.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around her neck. “Face it, you’re powerful, brilliant, ridiculously sexy… but… you dance like a drunk cat.”

She grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

I sighed dramatically. “Against my better judgment.”

The music swelled around us, but for a moment, it was just the two of us. No magic, no responsibilities—just Agatha, in my arms, her hands resting at my hips like they belonged there.

“I love you,” she murmured, so low I barely caught it.

My heart did that stupid, crazy thing where it forgot how to function properly, missing a beat. Of course I knew she loved me, but those three little words were never something she threw about easily.

“I love you too.”

Nicki’s voice broke through before she could kiss me.

“Ew! Mom and Mama are being gross again!”

Ella giggled, clapping her hands over her eyes.

“We have to do something about their timing.” Agatha groaned, burying her face in my shoulder.

I just laughed, tugging her back into the dance party and the chaos of our two kids, before she could plot something truly wicked.

***

It had gotten late. We’d managed to get the kids in bed fairly hassle free. Nicki had crashed mid-sentence, mumbling something about being the best dancer in the family, and Ella had insisted on one last bedtime story before her eyes, that were so like Agatha's, betrayed her and fluttered shut.

Now, the house was still. Not silent… never truly silent with the lingering energy of two overactive kids, but still enough that I could finally relax. Agatha stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine before handing me one, the deep red liquid catching the dim kitchen light as I took a slow sip.

I leaned back against the counter, eyes drifting through the open archway into the living room; a battlefield of discarded blankets, scattered toys, the disco ball still spinning, and upturned cushions.

Agatha followed my gaze, her smirk lazy, knowing.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

She was right. It could wait. But something about ending the night with the house in disarray made my fingers twitch… my magic spark. So, with a subtle flick, the room righted itself. Cushions fluffed and stacked back on to the sofa, the coffee table straightened, the disco ball stopped and materialised inside the cupboard. The craziness of earlier now looked like nothing more than a memory.

I barely turned my head before I felt it—Agatha’s eyes on me, her smirk widening as she took a slow sip of her wine.

“Using magic, are we?”

I shrugged, pretending I didn’t feel the way her gaze sent warmth curling through me.

“I like waking up to a clean house.”

Agatha set her glass down with an amused chuckle, stepping into my space, her hands resting lightly on the counter on either side of me.

“Mm. Sure. That’s the reason.”

I arched a brow. “And what other reason would there be?”

Her smirk deepened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you just enjoy it.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to make my breath catch.

“Maybe it’s not so bad, using what you were born with.”

I rolled my eyes, tilting my head back slightly.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she teased, her lips just brushing against my jaw before pulling back. “I’m just saying, for someone who claims they don’t like usung their magic freely, who would rather do things the “normal” way, you sure didn’t hesitate.”

I huffed, lifting my glass to my lips again. “It’s practical.”

“It’s magic.”

“Magic can be practical.”

Agatha tilted her head, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the countertop beside me.

“And yet, when I use it to summon a bottle of wine instead of walking to the kitchen, you give me that look.”

I bit back a smile. “That’s different.”

She scoffed, feigning offence. “How?”

I swirled the wine in my glass, meeting her blue gaze with a knowing smirk of my own. “Because when you use magic, you always take it a step too far.”

Agatha clutched her chest, staggering back a step.

“How dare you?”

“Example, you magicked Mrs Hart’s garden gnome into an actual gnome, Agatha.”

“In my defence, he was boring, and Nicki and Ella loved it.”

I shook my head, laughing softly as she stepped back into my space. She nudged my glass aside just enough to steal a quick sip before pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Mm,” she hummed, savouring the wine. “Practical or not, I like it when you use magic.”

I let out a small sigh, resting my forehead against hers for just a moment. “You would.”

She grinned. “Of course, I would.”

I watched as Agatha picked up her wine glass, her fingers curling around the delicate stem. She took a slow sip, eyes locked onto mine over the rim, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Then, without a word, she turned to walk away.

What happened next… I don’t think I could have controlled it even if I’d wanted to. Let’s just say that deep rooted instinct “that I was born with” kicked in.

Agatha barely had time to process before she was spinning back toward me, my magic curling around her like an invisible ribbon. She stopped just inches away, her blue eyes flickering with something between amusement and intrigue.

“Oh?” she murmured, head tilting as that wicked smirk continued to play on her lips. “Now who’s taking things a step too far?”

I stepped closer, slow, deliberate, my own smirk mirroring hers.

“Did you think you were going somewhere?”

Her eyes dipped to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before locking back onto mine, her breath steady but charged.

“Maybe. But you seem to have other plans.”

I lifted my hand, magic humming in my fingertips as I plucked her wine glass from her grip without touching it, letting it float over to rest beside mine on the countertop. She watched it land, then turned back to me with an arched brow.

“Oh, look at you,” she murmured, voice dripping with something almost sultry. “Using magic without a care.”

I laughed, stepping in until there was barely any space between us. “Seems you’re a terrible influence.”

“I certainly try,” she whispered, eyes glinting in the low kitchen light.

She didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

Instead, I reached up, fingers ghosting along the sleeve of her deep green sweater, tracing the wool before slipping lower, to the warmth of her wrist. Agatha let out a breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, as I slowly walked her back toward the counter.

Her hands found my hips first, then my waist, her touch familiar, teasing, taunting.

“So,” she drawled, eyes never leaving mine, “what exactly are your plans?”

I grinned, tilting my head slightly as I let my magic flare again—not enough to startle her, but enough to send a playful spark up her spine.

“I thought you liked it when I used magic.”

Agatha let out a low hum of approval.

“Oh, I do.”

“Then stop talking.”

And for once, she actually listened.

I ran my fingers back up her sleeve, slow and deliberate, letting my magic tingle against her skin like the faintest brush of static. Agatha inhaled sharply, her breath catching for just a moment—not because she was surprised, but because she liked it.

I smirked, letting my fingers trail higher, up the curve of her neck, where I felt the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my touch. Then her jaw, where she tilted her head slightly into it, anticipation curling between us. And finally, across her lips.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, her breath warm against my fingertips.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” she murmured, lips parting just enough for her voice to slip through, low and dangerous.

I hummed in response, trailing my fingers back down to her collarbone, then pressing my palm flat against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath it.

“Funny,” I mused, tilting my head. “I thought you were the dangerous one.”

Agatha’s eyes blinked open, dark and smouldering, her smirk creeping back. “Oh, I am,” she purred. “But you… you’re finally starting to realise that you are too.”

I leaned in, close enough that my lips barely brushed hers, our noses ghosting, but not quite closing the distance. The air between us crackled, magic humming, but neither of us were in a hurry to break it.

Then, because I couldn’t resist, I let my magic flare again, just a whisper of power tracing along her skin, making her shiver.

Agatha let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.”

I grinned. “Thought you might.”

She made a sound—half approval, half impatience, before she finally closed the space between us, her lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was slow but intent, teasing but undeniable with what she wanted.

My fingers curled into the wool covering her body, pulling her in, and Agatha let me—for now. But I knew her. Knew that any second now, she’d turn the tables, take control, push back just to see how far I’d let her go.

That was the game she played, we played.

The one we both loved.

I fingered the hem of her sweater, my touch slow, teasing, before I finally tugged it upward. She didn’t stop me—didn’t hesitate—just lifted her arms to let me pull it over her head and toss it aside.

The moment it was gone, she was on me again, her hands slipping around my waist as she pulled me into another kiss. This one was deeper, more intent, her lips parting against mine as if she had no interest in keeping space between us.

When she finally broke away, her breath warm against my skin, I felt it... A shift, a pulling in the fabric of my shirt that I wasn’t responsible for.

I glanced down just in time to see my buttons undoing themselves, one by one, the fabric falling open to expose my skin.

My breath hitched, heat pooling low in my stomach, and when I lifted my gaze, Agatha was watching me with a smirk—one that matched my own.

“I see we’re not bothering with patience tonight,” I murmured, my voice lower than I intended.

Agatha hummed, reaching out to trace a finger along the navy lace of my bra, her touch featherlight.

“I’d argue I’ve been very patient,” she countered, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re the one who started playing with magic.”

I bit my lip, watching the way her fingers teased at the lace, her gaze dark, considering.

“So what happens next?” I asked, my own hands slipping to her waist, feeling the warmth of her bare skin beneath my palms.

Agatha leaned in, her lips barely ghosting over mine, her breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Oh, hon,” she purred, her fingers slipping lower, dragging over my stomach with just enough pressure to make me ache.

“What doesn’t happen next?”

I couldn’t stop the involuntary moan that slipped from my lips at Agatha’s words. That wicked, knowing smirk of hers deepened, as if she had expected that reaction, as if she had been waiting for it.

But two could play that game.

My fingers twitched, and with a quiet pop, the button of her jeans came undone. A second later, the zipper slid down in a slow, deliberate motion, the sound filling the space between us.

Agatha’s breath hitched, just barely, but I caught it.

I didn’t stop there.

Stepping back, I let my magic press against her jeans, coaxing them to slip down from her hips, past the curve of her thighs, pooling at her feet.

She didn’t move to stop me. Didn’t move at all, except to lift her feet free. She stood there, her lip caught between her teeth as she watched me with blown, approving eyes.

Oh, she really liked me using magic—especially like this.

“Interesting,” she murmured, her voice like silk, like sin. “You do have a wicked streak, after all.”

I took a slow step forward, closing the distance I had put between us. My fingers found her waist, my touch light but firm.

“You bring it out in me,” I admitted, tilting my head slightly, watching her expression shift... anticipation, desire, something close to pride.

Agatha’s hands found my bare skin, her touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

“I love bringing things out in you,” she purred, fingers trailing along the back band of my bra, her magic sparking faintly against my skin, making me shiver.

I swallowed, my own smirk returning.

“Then you’re going to love what happens next.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement, challenge… hunger.

“Oh, darling,” she whispered, lips brushing against mine just enough to tease. “Show me.”

Happily.

I trailed my fingers over her chest, skimming over the soft skin above the fabric of her black bra, feeling the way her breath caught beneath my touch. My magic followed, leaving behind a faint, tingling sensation as it traced between her cleavage, along her ribs, down her stomach, dipping over her hip before gliding up the inside of her thigh.

Agatha let out a breath, her body shivering, reacting slightly under the sensation, but she didn’t stop me.

Not yet.

I smirked, watching her closely, revelling in the way she responded, the way her lips parted just so, the way her pupils continued to grow as she watched me.

When I reached the edge of her panties, I let my magic surge, just a bit stronger, the warmth of it teasing against her, slipping beneath the material.

That’s when I felt it... her fingers curling firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

My gaze snapped up to hers, meeting those sharp, knowing eyes.

Agatha’s grip was firm but not forceful, her smirk just as wicked as before, but now there was something else behind it—a need for her to be in control.

“Ah, ah, not yet” she murmured, tilting her head, her voice thick with something that sent heat pooling low between my thighs. I swallowed, my heart pounding, my breath uneven.

“Stopping me already?”

Her fingers tightened, her smirk deepening. “I never said stop,” she purred, leaning in just enough that I could feel her breath against my lips. “I said not yet.”

A shiver ran through me, her words like a spark catching fire.

Agatha slowly, deliberately, lifted my wrist, guiding my hand away from where I had been heading, dragging it instead up her body, pressing my palm against the centre of her chest, just above her heart.

“Patience,” she whispered, pressing a teasing kiss to my jaw.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers twitching against her skin.

She was going to make me work for this.

I smirked, pressing my body closer, my hips tilting forward against hers, my lips grazing her ear.

“I hope you know,” I murmured, my own voice dangerously low, my magic skirting lightly against her exposed skin, “I never lose.”

Agatha’s laughter was dark, promising.

“Then you’re going to love losing to me.”

I let out a slow breath, trailing my free hand back over her body, fingers brushing over her skin, my magic following like a whisper of heat. Agatha shivered beneath my touch, her lips parting slightly, her grip on my wrist loosening. I could feel it now…the crackling energy between us, the push and pull, magic flaring like a slow-burning fire. It felt reckless, deliciously so.

Because the kids were just upstairs�� and they could come down at any moment.

And yet, neither of us stopped.

Agatha’s magic sparked, brushing against me like an invisible caress, and before I could process the shift, I felt it—the clasp of my bra releasing, the straps slipping slightly from my shoulders.

I inhaled sharply, looking up to find her smirking, blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“That was very smooth,” I murmured, feigning nonchalance as I let my own magic tease along the edge of her panties in return.

Agatha hummed, her fingers toying with the loosened strap of my bra, dragging it down just enough to expose more of me.

“I do try.”

I swallowed, my body heating under her gaze.

“And if the kids...”

Her lips brushed my ear, then to the spot where my ear met my neck, her magic pressing against my skin, firm and knowing.

“They’re asleep,” she murmured. “You worry too much.”

I let out a breathy laugh, even as a shiver ran through me. “One of us has to be responsible.”

Agatha leaned back slightly, her smirk widening as she took me in. She traced her fingers down the valley of my now exposed breasts, then lower, down over my stomach, just above my waistband.

“You could stop me?”

I exhaled sharply, meeting her gaze, the challenge clear between us.

I could… was I going to… absolutely not.

Because right now?

I wasn’t feeling very responsible.

I barely had time to process the flick of her fingers before I felt the cool air against my legs—my jeans weren’t undone, they were gone. Just… disappeared, like they’d never existed.

I gasped, my body tensing for half a second before I caught the wicked glint in Agatha’s blue eyes.

“Really?” I breathed, half-laughing, half-reeling from the abrupt removal. She smirked, eyes trailing over me now that I was left in nothing but my panties.

“You were taking too long.”

Before I could throw some snarky reply back at her, she was on me again, her lips trailing hot, deliberate kisses down my chest.

I sucked in a breath as she pressed in closer, her bare skin warm against mine, her hands roaming—one resting against my lower back, the other teasing over my hip, her fingers just brushing the lace of my underwear.

The living room, the kitchen, everything else faded to the background.

It was just her. Just us.

And I wasn’t thinking about the kids, or responsibility, or even the reckless way we were tangled up here, barely clothed, not caring about anything else but this.

Agatha’s mouth found the curve of my breast, then my nipple, her teeth scraping lightly before she soothed the spot with her tongue, pulling a gasp from me.

I dug my fingers into her back, tilting my head as she kissed lower, teasing, deliberate.

“I knew you’d like that,” she murmured against my skin.

I let out something between a laugh and a shaky breath.

“I hate how smug you are.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss just above my navel.

“No, you don’t.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers threading into her dark waves as her lips trailed even lower.

No.

No, I really didn’t.

I thought she was going to drop to her knees... god, I was ready for her to.

But then I felt it—my feet lifting from the floor, my body moving, guided by something unseen but all too familiar. Before I could even gasp, I was placed onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter, thighs spread wide, my balance steady only because she wanted it to be.

Agatha stepped between my legs, hands running up my thighs, and I knew she had done this on purpose—to see me, to make sure I knew exactly what I looked like right now, open and wanting, the evidence of it soaking through the thin lace of my underwear.

Her eyes glanced low as she took in the sight, and god, the way she looked at me... like she had just won a game we weren’t even playing... made the heat between my legs burn even hotter.

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven.

“You could’ve just asked,” I murmured, my voice rougher, more ragged than I intended.

Agatha hummed, dragging her nails lightly along the inside of my thighs, making me shiver.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Her hands inched higher, her fingers pressing just enough to make me squirm, but not enough to satisfy. She was toying with me, drawing this out, enjoying the way my body responded to her.

I let out a shaky breath, reaching for her, gripping the back of her neck to pull her closer.

“Agatha—”

Her smirk deepened, and I barely had time to react before her lips were on mine, hot, claiming, stealing the words right out of my mouth.

And just as I started to sink into it, our tongues fighting for dominance, just as I was about to beg her to do something, I felt it.. another pulse of magic.

A beat later, my panties were gone.

I moaned, the sudden coolness making me shiver, making me ache. My body was so hot, so wound tight I thought I might snap from nothing more than the way she was looking at me.

I spread my legs wider for her, an offering, a surrender. God, I was hers and she knew it. I would let her do anything.

And she was enjoying it—relishing the way I melted for her, the way I was already undone before she had even really touched me.

Her fingers trailed higher, slow, deliberate, teasing the inside of my thigh, her touch light enough to make me want, to make me need her. And then—finally—she stroked me. Just the barest drag of her fingers through my wet folds, and my hips jerked instinctively, desperate for more.

But she didn’t give it me.

She was toying with me, dragging this out, revelling in the way I responded to just the teasing touches of her left hand, the way my breath hitched, the way my thighs trembled under her.

I let out a whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like I could ground myself, like I could will her to give in.

Then I felt it.

Not just her fingers… but her magic.

It pulsed through me, against me, inside me, invisible but undeniable, like a current sparking through every nerve in my body.

I gasped, my back arching, my head rolling back as a husky moan tore from my lips.

It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—so intimate, so deep, touching something in me that was beyond the physical.

Agatha hummed, pleased, her fingers still stroking, circling, her magic still pressing, teasing, building.

“Oh,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. “You really like that, don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer her.

I could barely breathe.

“Agatha,” I moaned, my hips moving instinctively, chasing more—more friction, more of her, more of whatever spell she was weaving around me… inside of me. God, what was she doing to me?

The pleasure was overwhelming, sharp and sweet all at once, twisting inside me until I forgot everything else—where we were, how loud I was being, how reckless this was.

I knew I should be quieter, knew I should at least try to keep it together. But all I could feel was her—her fingers sliding through my slickness, teasing me open, her magic pulsing in a way that sent hot sparks licking up over my clit. She was dragging this out, savouring every reaction, every damn sound I made. She stepped back slightly, just enough to watch, her blue eyes locked onto where her fingers were playing with me, spreading me, owning me.

I whimpered, my body twitching with need, and she smirked—knowing, utterly devastating.

“I think…” I managed to breathe, my voice uneven, shaking, ��it’s not just me that likes this…”

Agatha let out a low, approving hum, her fingers pressing just a bit deeper, just a bit firmer, making me gasp, but not giving me enough.

“Mmm,” she murmured, tilting her head, her eyes still fixed on me, watching every little movement, every little reaction. “You have no idea.”

“Please, baby,” I moaned, my voice desperate, needy. Any restraint I might have had was long gone, tossed out the window along with my inhibitions.

I needed her. Inside me. Not teasing, not playing, not making me fall apart inch by inch—I needed her to take me.

Agatha smirked, her fingers still tormenting me, tracing the edges of my entrance but never quite pushing inside. Her magic rippled through me again, that slow, electric pulse that made my body tremble, made my breath hitch.

I whimpered, hips arching, trying to move against her, trying to take her deeper myself.

But she just tsked, keeping her touch just out of reach.

“What do you want, Y/N,” she murmured, voice silky, but dangerously in control.

I moaned, my body aching with need. God, she knew exactly what I wanted, knew exactly how desperate I was.

And she was thriving in it.

I bucked my hips again, trying to push her fingers inside me, but she stayed firm, just barely pressing, just enough to keep me on edge.

“Use your words,” she purred.

I whimpered again, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tight my knuckles turned white.

“Agatha, please,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “I need you inside me. Now… Just… fuck me.”

Her smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering across her face.

“There you go,” she murmured, leaning in close, her lips brushing the side of my face. And then—finally—she gave me what I wanted.

I had no idea how I didn’t wake the kids. Jesus, the noise that left me—the desperate, broken moan that ripped from my throat as she finally gave me what I needed.

Her fingers.

Her magic.

Inside of me, stretching, filling… fucking me.

Agatha’s left hand was buried deep, her ring and middle fingers deep, sinking in all the way to her engagement and wedding band, the cool metal pressing against my entrance, a constant reminder of who I belonged to.

Fuck.

It was consuming. Unlike anything I had ever felt before, like every nerve in my body was attuned to her, to the way she moved inside me, thrusting, twisting, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars.

I barely registered the way I clung to her, my nails dragging down her back, my thighs trembling against her sides. All I could focus on was her, the way she was watching me, blue eyes gleaming, drinking in the way I was falling apart beneath her, around her. She fucking loved this…Loved the way I writhed, the way I gasped her name, the way I had lost any semblance of control.

“Agatha,” I choked out, my breath ragged, my body burning.

I could feel it, building inside me, higher and higher, like I was standing at the edge of something I might never come back from.

She curled her fingers again—fuck, right there—her magic pressing at the same time, flooding through me, deep, touching something I couldn’t even name.

"Oh, baby—right there,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Don’t—”I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

More? Mercy?

I couldn’t control myself. The way I was acting, the way I was moving, chasing her, chasing this, my body desperate, needy, starving for more of her.

The need for her to fuck me like she never had before.

And god, she knew it.

But fuck... she was doing it on our kitchen counter.

The thought should’ve made me laugh—should’ve made me pause, should’ve reminded me that the Nicki and Ella were just upstairs—but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

Not with her inside me.

Not with her fingers pushing, curling, twisting in ways that made my body tremble, made me forget everything but the pleasure she was pulling from me.

The sound—the obscene, wet sound of her fingers moving inside me filled the room, mixing with my gasps, my moans, the quiet murmurs of encouragement from her lips.

“That’s it, baby,” she purred, her voice as dark as her magic, her free hand gripping my thigh, keeping me spread wide for her. For her to see. For her to take. “Let me hear you.”

I let out a strangled moan, my hands scrambling against the counter, my body arching. I couldn’t control it anymore, couldn’t stop the way I moved against her, how I chased it, chased her.

“Fuck… baby…” I gasped, barely able to breathe. “I—”

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.

That I was close? That I was hers? That I was about to come apart so completely, I wasn’t sure I’d ever put myself back together again?

It didn’t matter.

Because she knew, and nothing was going to make her stop.

“Feel me inside you,” she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot, her voice thick with dark amusement, with possession.

Her fingers pumped deeper, curling just right, her magic rippling inside me in a way that made my body shudder, my breath come out in desperate, choked gasps.

“Squeeze me, baby.” Her lips brushed mine, her smirk infuriatingly smug as she felt me clench around her. “That’s a good girl”.

I was so far gone.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond her—her fingers fucking me open, her magic thrumming through my veins, her body owning mine in a way that I never wanted to end.

The pleasure was blinding, all-consuming, twisting tighter and tighter, coiling in my stomach, in my thighs, in the very marrow of my bones.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my hands gripping at her—her shoulders, her arms, anything to anchor me as my body tensed, trembling.

I was going to come.

God, I was going to come so fucking hard for her—from her, because of her, because of her fingers, her magic, her voice in my ear telling me to let go.

And when it finally snapped—when the pleasure crashed over me—I moaned her name, as if it was fresh out of a porn movie.

That was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.

Holy fuck.

I was still trembling, my body shuddering with aftershocks as Agatha’s fingers worked the last of the pleasure from me, coaxing me through it. My hips still jerked, my body still reacted to her, even as I collapsed forward, my head resting against her shoulder.

I let out a breathless, satisfied laugh—maybe from the sheer bliss of it, maybe from the slight embarrassment of how completely I had let go.

And then, realisation hit me like a brick to the face.

I had been so loud.

“Shit,” I gasped, lifting my head to look at her, panic flickering through the lingering haze of pleasure.

“I wasn’t—”

“—quiet?” Agatha finished, her smirk wicked, amused. “No, darling. You really weren’t.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands, but before I could wallow in my mortification, I felt the slow, deliberate slide of her fingers pulling out of me. My body ached at the loss, already missing her touch.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she lifted her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean.

I swore my soul left my body.

She hummed, deliberate, slow, as she licked every trace of me off her fingers. My breath hitched, my stomach flipping, my already sensitive body twitching at the sheer filthiness of it.

Then she grabbed my jaw and pulled me into a kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth, teasing, letting me taste myself on her.

And—fuck.

It was different. Not just me—but her, her magic, something dark and electric and entirely Agatha lingering on my tongue.

When we finally broke apart, I was dazed, spent, and still shaking from what she’d just done to me.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her smirk deepening. “The kids wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

She lifted a hand and subtly flicked her fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t—”

“Oh, it was just a little sleeping spell,” she purred, grinning like the devil.

I gaped at her.

“Agatha!”

She shrugged. “You were being loud, darling.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead back against her shoulder, already knowing this had set a precedent for it becoming more than a one-time thing.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” Agatha murmured, leaning into me, her bare skin pressing against mine, warm and tempting.

“Would it now?” I teased, though my voice lacked conviction.

I was still not entirely thrilled about the magic she had used to keep Nicki and Ella asleep, but… god, was I torn.

Because the way she was looking at me?

The way my body still hummed from her touch?

I wanted her.

Again.

And again.

She slid me down off the counter, my legs unsteady, still trembling from my release. I gripped her tight, my body weak but aching for her all the same.

Agatha hummed, amused. “A little wobbly there, hon?”

I huffed, gripping her tighter. “You know damn well why.”

She smirked, proud of herself, too proud, and before she could get another word out, I flicked my wrist.

Magic surged between us, wrapping around our bodies, and in an instant, we were no longer in the kitchen.

We were in our king-size bed—Agatha beneath me, sprawled out, panties now completely gone.

She let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she stretched out, utterly unbothered by the sudden shift.

“Oh,” she purred, blue eyes glinting, “look at you. Using magic like it’s going out of fashion.”

I merely arched a brow, pressing my body flush against hers, trapping her beneath me.

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow-burning kiss, my hands trailing down her stomach, teasing but intentional.

As I broke the kiss, I let my fingers drift lower, my magic sparking against her skin as I smirked down at her.

“So,” I murmured, my voice low, my touch dangerously close to where she wanted it. “Where were we?”

I trailed my fingers lower, slow, teasing, the anticipation thrumming between us like a live wire.

Then I felt her.

And—Jesus. She was soaking.

A sharp inhale left my lips as my fingers dipped between her thighs, sliding against her wetness, between her folds, feeling just how wrecked she already was.

I lifted my gaze, meeting her eyes, my breath catching at the pure, unfiltered desire burning in them.

“Oh,” I murmured, my fingers teasing through her slickness, not quite giving her what she needed yet.

“Look at you.”

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, her smirk still in place, but her body twitched at the contact, her hips subtly shifting, needing more.

“Surprised?” she mused, though her voice was a little rougher, a little less composed than usual.

I grinned, pressing my fingers against her just a little more firmly, noting the way her breath hitched, as I brushed her clit.

“Pleased.”

I slid my fingers through her again, slow, deliberate, watching her expression shift, watching her lips part, her chest rise and fall just a bit quicker.

“God, baby,” I murmured, my voice dark with satisfaction, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Agatha hummed, but this time, there was an edge to it.

“You did put on quite the show,” she murmured, her tone taunting, but I could feel the tension in her body, feel the way she was holding herself back.

I smirked, leaning down, brushing my lips against her ear as my fingers pressed deeper, teasing at her entrance but not pushing inside…just yet.

“Do you want me to return the favour?” I whispered, my breath warm against her skin.

Agatha swallowed, her hands tightening where they rested against my hips, her nails digging in just slightly.

But she was still playing the game, still trying to hold her ground.

So I waited.

I kept teasing, barely giving her what she wanted—until, finally, she let out a soft, frustrated moan, her hips arching, her magic flowing against mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

Her voice was rough, low, almost a growl when she finally said it.

“Fuck me.”

I grinned against her skin.

“Oh, baby, I intend to.”

And then I slid my fingers inside her, and Agatha gasped.

God, she was so tight around me.

Nothing—nothing—felt better than this.

Than her.

Her heat.

I started moving, slow at first, deliberate, knowing full well it wasn’t enough, knowing it would drive her crazy.

Agatha let out a low, frustrated noise, her hips twitching, trying to take more, trying to set the pace herself.

But I wasn’t going to let her.

Not yet.

I wanted to feel her break, wanted to hear her beg, wanted to pull her apart the way she had done to me.

I pressed my lips against her jaw, nipping her with my teeth, teasing, dragging my fingers slowly out before pushing back in, keeping the rhythm achingly slow.

“Patience, baby,” I murmured against her skin, mocking the words she had said to me earlier.

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, sharp and knowing, but I could hear the edge of need beneath it.

“Oh, you’re playing dangerously, hon,” she whispered, her nails digging into my back, her magic thrumming against mine.

I grinned, pressing my thumb against her clit, just lightly, just enough to make her body twitch beneath me.

“I thought you liked that,” I murmured, thrusting deeper, still keeping her waiting, still teasing her with every slow movement.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, her walls tightening around me, her hips shifting restlessly.

Then she turned her head, her lips brushing against my ear, her voice lower, rougher, more raw than I’d ever heard it.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” she growled.

I shivered, the pure desperation in her tone setting my blood on fire.

Mmm—fuck.

I couldn’t deny her anymore.

Not when she sounded like that.

Not when she felt like this.

So I broke, curling my fingers deep inside her, pressing hard against that spot that made her body jerk, that made her gasp so loud I knew she didn’t care if the sleeping spell held or not.

I fucked her.

Hard.

And god, she love it.

I thrust hard, my fingers driving deep inside her, my thumb pressing against her clit at the same time… a warm burn starting to spread through my wrist.

The moment I did, I felt it—my magic crackling between us, wrapping around her, inside her, like an invisible pulse of heat.

Agatha’s moan was wrecked, raw, her body arching up into me, her head tilting back, exposing the long, perfect curve of her throat.God.

That sound.

That deep, desperate, uncontrollable moan that came from her lips as I fucked her with my fingers, as my magic pulsed through her body.

I felt a rush of heat between my own thighs, felt my own wetness drip down, my body aching from just hearing her.

From watching her come apart.

From knowing I was the one doing this to her.

She was so close, I could feel it in the way she clenched around me, in the way her hips jerked without rhythm, her body chasing more, more, more.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” I gasped, my breath coming out in ragged pants, my own pleasure building just from watching her fall apart.

Agatha’s hands clawed at me, pulling me closer, as if she needed to anchor herself, as if she needed to feel all of me as she unraveled.

Her voice was shaky, breathless, so fucking close to breaking as she gasped:

“Don’t stop—!”

And god help me, I wasn’t going to.

The wet, slick sound of my fingers moving inside her filled the room, mixing with her breathless, broken moans. Fuck, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

I never lost my rhythm, I kept thrusting, kept pushing as deep as I could, my fingers scissoring inside her, stretching her, curling to hit that perfect spot that made her body jolt against mine.

She was so damn close—I could feel it in the way she tightened around me, in the way her thighs trembled, her nails digging into my skin, her head thrown back in complete surrender.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmured, my thumb pressing harder against her clit, rubbing fast, tight circles, my lips, my tongue brushing against her throat as I encouraged her.

“Come for me. Let go, Agatha.”

She tried to speak—tried to say something, but all that left her was a strangled, wrecked moan as her body seized, her muscles tensing, her magic crashing against mine in wild, uncontrollable waves.

I felt the exact moment her release came —the moment she shattered around me, her walls pulsing tight, squeezing my fingers so hard it nearly stole my breath.

Her cry of pleasure was raw, undone, her hips jerking, her body writhing as she rode out her orgasm, my fingers still deep inside her, drawing out every last aftershock.

She was so gone, so completely wrecked beneath me, and god, I had never felt so powerful, so fucking addicted to the way she fell apart for me.

Her breath was ragged, her body still trembling, and I couldn’t stop myself—I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, tasting her moan, owning it.

When I finally pulled back, she was dazed, her beautiful blue eyes hazy, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

I smirked, satisfied, dragging my fingers slowly out of her, loving the way her body twitched from the loss.

She swallowed, blinking up at me, her expression unreadable for just a second—then her smirk returned, lazy, dangerous, so fucking Agatha.

She let out a breathy chuckle, still wrecked, and rasped “…God Y/N, I knew you had it in you.”

I smirked down at her, utterly pleased with myself, my fingers still glistening from her.

“Oh? And what exactly did you think I had in me?”

Agatha let out a breathless, satisfied laugh, her hands still lazily resting on my hips as she blinked up at me, her eyes still looking hungry.

“Oh, you know,” she drawled, tilting her head, her smirk lazy and self-satisfied, but I could still see the aftershocks running through her body. “A bit of wickedness. A little bite.”

She exhaled, still catching her breath, her fingers brushing idly against my bare skin.

“But this? I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” She trailed off, eyes flickering down to my very smug expression, before licking her lips.

“So?” I prompted, dragging my slick fingers up her thigh, teasing, making her twitch.

Agatha hummed, fake considering, before her smirk turned sharp, wicked.

“Merciless.”

I grinned, leaning down, brushing my lips over hers, just barely giving her what she wanted.

“Oh, baby,” I murmured, dragging my fingers up her stomach, watching her shiver under my touch. “I learned from the best.”

Agatha let out a slow, dark laugh, her fingers tightening on my waist.

“I really should’ve corrupted you sooner.”

I bit my lip, mocking thoughtfulness, my fingers trailing back down, dangerously close to where she was still warm and wet for me.

“Oh? So you admit I’m better than you thought?”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her smirk growing wider.

“I never said better.”

I flicked my fingers, letting my magic spark just enough to tease her, to make her gasp, her hips twitching again.

“Oh, I think I just proved otherwise.

”Mm,” she murmured, voice hoarse, amused, completely smug. “You really are full of surprises.”

I huffed a soft laugh, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her, our bodies naturally melding together, skin still warm, still buzzing from everything we’d just done.

She let out a content sigh, tucking her head against my shoulder, comfortable, relaxed, so effortlessly Agatha.

I let my fingers trace absent patterns up her side, across her ribs, pressing a lazy kiss to her temple.

“You can take the sleeping spell off the kids now,” I murmured, my voice teasing but pointed.

Agatha hummed again, this time slower, considering.

“Mmm,” she sighed, stretching just slightly, her bare legs tangling with mine. “Maybe I’ll leave it on a little longer.”

I snorted, turning my head to look at her, eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Is that so?”

She grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down my own side, casual, innocent, but I knew better.

“Well,” she mused, thoughtfully mocking me, her breath hot against my skin, “you did just discover how much fun magic can be.”

I smirked, shifting just slightly so our bodies pressed even closer, heat curling between us again, despite the exhaustion settling in.

“Maybe,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers, “using my magic more often isn’t such a bad thing…”

Agatha let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she nipped at my lip.

“Not when it’s just the two of us.”

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜 (Third chapter of No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old).

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