yo, im nbdaddykink, but you can call me either nb, jowol, or ace. i am, as the name implies, non binary. i am also very much an adult who is well above drinking age.
im a massive whore for sub!fem characters x dom!reader, but thereâs barely any content on this hellsite, so i made this blog to help compile it into one place. itâs mainly for my own benefit, but everyone is welcome to browse and enjoy
itâll be mostly genshin/honkai star rail, but some other fandoms may also make an appearance, depending on where my brain goes that day
also, no discrimination will be made in regards to amab/afab!reader, this is not a place for transphobia. i can tag it if people want me to, but this is a place for nb/wlw with sub!fem characters, and sometimes nbs and women have dicks. itâs just the way the world works
my inbox is always open if you want to send me your thoughts on characters or if you want to share some thirsts
ANNOUNCEMENT
im going to be also reblogging dark content (i.e. stepcest, incest, dub/noncon, drugging, yandere, baby trapping, etc)
these will all be tagged with trigger warnings (nb.dark + cw.[kink], and it will be up to you to block these tags if you don't want to see them
Summary: After running into her ex wife at their son's little league baseball game, Agatha comes home more than just annoyed and irritated. Yes, she loves her son to death and no, she cannot stand how obnoxious her ex has become. Luckily enough, she has you to put her mind and body at ease.
Word count: 2.6k
Pairings: Agatha Harkness x Reader
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Swearing, pet names, sex toys, strap ons/strap on sex, spanking, vaginal fingering, clitoral stimulation, groping, nipple play, kissing, phantom limb
Music:
Because we can't get enough of that goddamn Oikos outfit, can we? @ownedbyagatha
Tip Jarđ°
*Don't like the warnings? Don't read! đ
Agatha had picked up her bag and shoved on her shoes with a huff before giving you a quick, chaste kiss before she was out of the door and off to Nicky's little league baseball game. Rio had him on the weekends which also fell onto when he had his baseball games. Agatha, no matter what, always made it a point to attend them.
Even if that meant dealing with her ex for an hour or so.
You, on the other hand, had only attended a handful of games and tried not to let the air of being hated bother you so much. Rio would eye you like a hawk and try to separate you from Agatha. It was a strange tactic from someone who was no longer in a relationship with the woman you were with.
Chalk it up to self-esteem issues or a controlling personality but Rio always seemed like she was out for blood.
So, this weekend, you opted to stay home and get some much-needed housework done. Between laundry and cleaning up the kitchen; moving Nicky's toys back to where they belonged became a full-time job.
And, of course, you were more than happy to help out. Agatha had welcomed you into her and Nicky's lives and it was only right to help out the woman you had so madly fallen in love with.
This was, of course, your home with her, too.
You were deep into the kitchen; scrubbing away at the shelves in the fridge when you heard the front door open and then slam shut. Maybe Agatha was carrying something heavy; more of Nicky's things that Rio no longer wanted at her house. Whatever it was, you knew Agatha could handle it. You continued to scrub away at the plastic shelf.
"I'm in the kitchen, Babe!"
You shout as you duck your head out from the fridge; your face turned to the ceiling so that she could hear you without a muffle. You don't hear anything back but the silent jingle of keys and a bag being dropped.
You think nothing of it until you have the sensation of being watched.
Pulling away from the fridge with the dirty paper towel still in your hand, you see Agatha standing on the threshold that divides the kitchen from the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest. You can tell just from the look on her face and the way her skin creases between her eyebrows that she's pissed.
"You good, Babe? You look a little-"
But Agatha didn't give you an explanation for her sour expression; turning on her heels as she leaves you in the kitchen. You couldn't help yourself as you watched her storm away; how good her ass looked in those mom jeans.
You were some sort of freak for thinking that while knowing something had pushed her over the edge.
You know Agatha just needs to chill out from whatever it was that had gotten under her skin and so, you turn back to the fridge and the task of putting everything back in it now that it had been cleaned. Feeling proud of yourself as you toss away the dirty paper towel, you head into the living room and wait for Agatha to appear.
She couldn't stay away from you that long, now when you knew she would love to come back and rant and bitch about all the new ways Rio had pissed her off this weekend.
Sinking into the couch, you bring your legs up to rest your feet onto the coffee table across from you. Rolling your shoulders back and letting your head rest against the back of the couch, you feel the heaviness in your body and muscles start to really seep in from all the work you had gotten done today around the house. At least, Agatha wouldn't have to lift a finger.
You'd hate for her to have to do too much. You did love spoiling her, after all.
You hear Agatha's footsteps get closer, get louder until she's standing in the living room on the opposite side of the coffee table. You give her a small smile; not wanting to seem like all is well when she's clearly upset.
That is, until you notice what she's got clutched in her hand.
Your harness and the pink toy that goes along with it.
You feel the saliva catch in your throat and suddenly it's gotten very hard to swallow.
Pushing yourself up a little straighter on the couch; your feet coming off of the table to place down onto the floor to ground yourself. You feel as if you and Agatha are in a face-off. Neither of you are speaking but you can see the anticipation all over her face and in her gaze.
She tosses you your toys without a goddamn word and slowly, ever so slowly drops down onto her hands and knees until she's parallel to the coffee table that's littered with half-read magazines and Nicky's toys.
Your brain seems to shut off at the sight of Agatha on her hands and knees; her back end slightly up in a mock downwards dog without giving it her all.
She turns her head to look at you and your body reacts in the most delicious way. A quick pang of pleasure right to your clit.
"Do you think you can fuck me as good as I fuck you?"
Your mouth suddenly feels like it's been stuffed with cotton and all you can do to reply to her is nod your head.
The grin on her face is devious; tempting as she lures you off of the couch and onto your feet with your toy and harness clutched in your hands.
"You fucking better."
Agatha keeps her head turned in your direction as she waits for you to pick up the pace. You turn ever so slightly just to put down your harness and toy on the couch as your hands fly to drop down your track pants. You move with such urgency that you almost trip over your own feet as you pull the harness up over your legs and onto your hips; securing the already erect toy through the o-ring.
Your heart almost gives out when you see Agatha lick her lips as her eyes drag over your body until her gaze rests on your face.
She can see you crumbling; falling so easy to her demands.
"Rio must have really pissed you off, huh?"
Agatha snorts through her nose as she brings her head back to a neutral position and her eyes downcast to stare at her palms flat down on the floor. Her fingers are spread to hold up her weight and make her position much more comfortable.
She knows, soon enough, her face will be pressed down on the plush carpet with her hands outstretched as they try to grab anything, hold onto something.
You come around the coffee table now with your right hand down to hold onto the base of your cock. The silicone feels cool under your fingers as your hand moves ever so slightly to stroke yourself off. Agatha drops down ever so slightly with her chest to the floor and her ass up in the air.
She moves her hips ever so slightly and you let a moan escape from your lips.
"Atta boy...you want me badly, don't you?"
Your mind whirls as your body takes over; closing the gap now between you and your girlfriend. Dropping to your knees behind Agatha, your legs rest inside of hers so that you can be right up against her. She backs herself up and feels the tip of you press against the underside of her right ass cheek.
Once again, your body moves faster than your brain as your left hand raises up in the air to come swiftly down. You spank Agatha through her jeans and the sudden, unexpected spank causes her both to moan and almost topple forward.
She presses back into you once more that only can be read as a silent plea to keep going.
"Let me get these jeans off of you, Baby..."
You grab the same cheek you had just spanked and feel your clit throb with desire. If you could, you know, your cock would be twitching just the same. Moving upwards, you grab onto the waistband and pull her jeans over the round of her ass until its down at her bent knees. Agatha sways her hips again and pushes back and you can hear the soft laughter under her breath as she teases.
Desire shifts very quickly to admiration and the love that you have for Agatha; the way she can become so playful one moment and then a complete temptress the next.
Your hand moves over her bare skin as your fingers hook underneath her underwear to move it aside. You can feel the heat that comes from Agatha's core and you know then just how badly she needs this. Needs you.
"Let's see how wet you are for me..."
Agatha whines as she presses back into your hand that's between her legs. Fingers curled upwards ever so slightly to rub at her folds and massage her clit, your fingers are already slick. You hear her exhale loudly as she tries to steady herself; pressing back with more weight into your hand.
You realize then she's trying to get your fingers to slip inside of her; impatient already with the means to be filled and stretched by you.
You move with expertise as you continue to rub away at her wet skin; feeling her pulse and twitch against your fingertips as your left hand helps to guide your cock until it's almost level to where you hand occupies between her legs.
"Let me switch out for you, Baby...let me fill you up..."
You watch as Agatha nods her head; hair falling over her shoulder to hide the side of her face. You can only imagine what her expression reads at this moment. Agatha's furrowed brow and the way her nose scrunches up when she's trying to concentrate and keep herself together. The way her lips are slightly parted and bit; skin raw that's wet with spit.
"Fuck, Agatha..."
Your hand between her legs helps your other as your fingers gently spread her open and your angle becomes more precise. You watch as the tip of your cock teases and rubs against her opening until she pushes herself slowly back onto you, taking you inside of her with one steady movement. Her exhale is loud and cut short with a desperate whine that, if you could physically do it in that moment, you would have come inside of her just from that alone.
Your hands roam up her ass until you're grabbing her hips. She falls into you so easily as her body releases from the tension it once held. She wants you to be in control so she can fully sink into the sensation. You're more than happy to oblige as you bring your upper body down over her back; your chest basically on top of her.
Agatha turns her head so that she can eye you; eyes turned up to make out where your face is now,
"Are you going to fuck me, big boy, or not?"
With your face so close to Agatha's you basically groan into her ear as you slam your hips forward. You feel both her and you almost fall forwards; your weight all on top of her. You wonder if her arms had threatened to buckle underneath her; wanting to submit herself fully to you.
You also know, in this moment if you could, you'd feel her clench around your cock as she tries to milk you dry.
Using your weight, you shift yourself in a way that both keeps you steady and inside of her, while your right hand leaves her hip to move underneath her as it grazes the edge of her shirt. Your fingers push past the plush fabric of her turtle neck to roam underneath to the dip of her lower abdomen that trembles against your fingertips.
You can basically feel the bulge there from your cock deep inside of her; lingering to take in the sensation that makes you rut into her deeper and faster.
You take a breath before your hand continues to travel upwards until you reach the underwire of her bra. Fingers pushing underneath the fabric, you grab her right breast and squeeze hard as she falls back onto you. If you were able to double over even deeper you would have and by now, Agatha's face is basically down into the carpet.
Her nipple hardens quickly against your fingertips and you squeeze and roll and grope as your hips continue to move in a pace that doesn't match what your hand is doing. You feel all over the place with your movements but as long as they're hard and fast and deep, Agatha doesn't seem to mind.
Her moaning and whines tell you that with certainty.
You watch and feel and hear the sound of Agatha taking all of this in, all of you in as she writhes underneath you with pleasure. Her position remains with her face basically pressed down onto the carpet beneath her. She does her best to help you as her hips push back every now and again but you know her mind is turning to mush and her breathing has only hitched and before you know it, those hitched breaths turn into deep and long whines.
She's close; so very fucking close.
Your hand snakes out from underneath her bra in which you leave all crooked against her breast. It comes out from underneath her sweater to grab her hip once more as a final, hard leverage to pump into her.
There's no more resistance in your thrusts; so overly wet and stretches around you that it becomes seamless to fuck Agatha. She takes you so well and you let her know as you whisper over and over again like a mantra. Your words are soon drowned out by her own sounds as she sinks deeper until she falls silent.
You pull your body up and off of her back so you can straighten yourself up and watch as you enter her over and over again; silicone coated so beautifully. Agatha shakes; her muscles betray her as you watch her thighs tremble.
You move then with utmost caution and care as you slide out of her; your cock coated generously with her cum. You move back at a slow and steady pace as you try to catch your own breath; moving so that you can lean forward with an angled face to kiss the backs of her thighs.
You can smell her and your mouth instantly fills with saliva.
You pull away so that she can pull herself up to a kneeling position. Every single muscle in her body appears to be slack; relaxed from the after affects of being fucked down on all fours. She turns her head to look over her shoulder at you; her hair messier than it had been when she stormed back in from Nicky's game.
You grin at her; lovesick and foolish and she bites her bottom lip with a slight tease of a smile,
"Next weekend you're coming with me so I can show you off again...get right under my exes skin..."
You nod your head and watch in silence as Agatha lifts herself up just enough to fix her underwear and grab the waistband of her jeans to pull it up over her ass.
She never takes her eyes off of you as she dresses herself.
Kinktober Day 26: Caught (Agatha Harkness x Reader)
Summary: Day 26, getting caught in so many different ways.
Words: 1577
Warnings: Reader gets voyeur-y for a minute, uh, Agatha calls reader "puppy", oral (Agatha receiving)
A/N: I had fun with this. Canon divergent, no one died, everyone's friends, reader is a green witch but it literally does not get mentioned.
-X-
Joining the Agatha Harknessâs coven had never been your plan. Honestly, you wouldâve avoided the notorious Witch Killer if it hadnât been for her spell dragging you onto the Witchesâ Roadâbut now you couldnât imagine leaving the illustrious succubus.
Hence why you were sprawled out on Agathaâs recliner while Lilia, Jennifer and Alice fought over a half-drunk bottle of wine, greedy hands nearly sending the red liquid splattering onto the upholstery of Agathaâs nice couch if not for the flick of your fingers, your magic stoppering it before things got out of hand.
Agatha had retired to bed a few minutes ago, leaving you with the tipsy witches but all you could think about was the older witch. The way sheâd called you âpuppyâ when you first met, because she couldnât be bothered to remember your name and because she swore you followed her around, âlike a pathetic puppy,â but these days, it felt less like an insult. The way she rebuked your flirting but never shied away from running her manicured nails along your chest or back when she walked past you; the way sheâd whisper in your ear whenever one of the other witches infuriated herâŠ
âIâm off to bed,â you announced, heading upstairs to claim Agathaâs guest room before the other women realized theyâd be sharing the pullout sofa.
The guest room door loomed ahead as your foot touched the landing, but a sound stopped youâŠ
A low, breathy gasp from behind Agathaâs bedroom door, cracked just an inch, that turned your blood into fire in your veins.
âPuppyâŠâ
Your breath caught, heat flooding your core as you edged closer, the doorâs gap revealing a sliver of her room: candlelight flickering over her bed, her silhouette shifting under deep violet sheets. Her hand moved beneath the fabric, deliberate, her lips parting as she murmured your name again, the sound a spell that rooted you in place.
You knew you shouldnât look insideâthat it was overstepping so many boundaries⊠but you were only so strong. And the sound of Agatha Harkness breathing out your name like that had short-circuited every stitch of self-awareness and decency you possessed.
Agathaâs blouse lay discarded on the floor, her skin bare save for the sheet tangled around her hips, slipping lower with every restless shift. Her lips parted, a soft curse escaping as her fingers moved faster, her breath hitching in rhythm. Her murmurs grew jagged, your name a mantra she didnât bother to hide, each syllable pulling you closer.
Her fingers slowed, a frustrated whine escaping her as she shifted, the sheet slipping to reveal the curve of her thigh, pale against the dark bedding and she muttered something low, almost a growl.
Making a split second decision, you nudged the door open and slipped into the room quietly. ââŠyou know⊠if youâre gonna get off to the idea of me, you couldâve at least invited meâŠâ
Her eyes snapped open, locking on you in the shadows.
âWell, puppy,â she drawled with mock indignation, âdidnât anyone teach you to knock?â
She didnât move to cover herself, didnât flinch, just propped herself up on one elbow, letting the sheet fall away entirely, her thighs parting just enough to tease. You could see the way her fingers glistened with every flicker of the candle, her thighs shining just the same, and it made your mouth water.
Her breath hitched as you strolled closer to the bed.
âMaybe donât say my name like an invitation then,â you whispered, crawling onto the bed and pressing her down into the mattress firmly.
Your hand gripped her wrist, pulling it from between her thighs and wrapping your lips torturously slow around her fingers. The way your tongue slipped between her digits left her chest heaving, eyes fixated on your face.
âYou taste better than I imagined.â
Before she could respond, your mouth crashed into hers, swallowing her moan of surprise as your fingers trailed down the pale expanse of her belly. Agatha kissed back with equal ferocity, her teeth grazing your lower lip, a low growl vibrating in her throat. She arched beneath you, her hips pressing up, seeking friction, but her hands slid to your chest, pushing just enough to keep control.
âEager, arenât we, puppy?â she murmured against your mouth, fingers sliding upward and curling into your hair, tugging hard, guiding your head down as she continued quietly, âShow me how much you want this.â It was intended to sound like a command, but the desperate, breathless quality only made it sound like a needy plea that left you aching.
Your mouth trailed lower, tongue teasing the stiff peak of her nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from Agatha as her back arched, pressing herself into you. You lingered there, teasing with a flick, before venturing down, your lips grazing the soft curve of her belly, tongue dipping into her navel with a slow swirl that made her breath catch. You stopped just above her glistening cunt, the heat of her radiating, her arousal slick and undeniable. Her thighs tensed as your hands gripped the firm muscles, trembling with anticipation, but she didnât beg. Her fingers tightened in your hair, pulling sharply to force you exactly where she wanted.
âPuppy,â she murmured, voice low and thick, âdonât you dare make me wait.â
Her hips tilted up, brushing your lips with her wetness, a pointed challenge as she spread her legs wider, trying to keep control even as she surrendered to your touch. Her nails scraped your scalp, a sting that sent a jolt through you, her blue eyes burning, watching every move you made.
Licking your lips, savoring every drop smeared across your skin, you surged forward with a hunger you hadnât known you were capable of. Your tongue moved relentlessly, laving her clit with fierce, focused strokes, each one pulling a wanton noise from Agathaâs throat. Her hips bucked against your face, an involuntary jump she couldnât control, her nails scraping harder against your scalp as she whined your name.
âThatâs it, puppy,â she rasped, riding your faceâand by the gods, you devoured her like a woman starved. Like you were lost in the desert and she was the first oasis youâd seen in months.
âHarder,â she groaned, almost feral, as she tilted her hips to give you better access, her juices coating your chin. Her thighs clamped around your head, possessive, urging you deeper, and the moan that escaped when two fingers plunged into her cunt was delicious.
She dissolved into an array of wordless sounds, each one needier than the last. Her hips jerked restlessly, toes curling into the mattress as you worked her body effortlessly. If she wasnât so far gone, sheâd probably hate how easy this all seemed for youâbuilding her impending climax like youâd done it a hundred timesâbut right now?
Right now, she was fucking thrilled.
Her climax hit like a wave, her cunt clenching against your mouth, a flood of wetness coating your lips and fingers as she cried out, loud and raw, your name tearing from her throat. Her thighs shook violently, locking you in place, her nails digging crescents into your scalp as she rode out the peak, her body shuddering with each pulse.
You lapped up every drop of her climax, your tongue greedy, savoring the sharp, distinct taste of her, too lost in her to register anything happening around you; too pussy-drunk to noticeâ
The door flew open with a bang, wood slamming against the wall. Lilia stumbled in first, wineglass in hand, her hair wild and loose as she froze, eyes wide. âJesus Christ!â she slurred, nearly dropping her drink.
Jennifer followed, tripping over the threshold, her laugh cutting off as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Alice peeked in last, her jaw dropping, a hiccup escaping as she clutched the doorframe. Agathaâs eyes snapped to them, her body tensing beneath you, but she didnât pull awayâmostly because you were the only thing protecting her from being on full display.
Agathaâs expression didnât falter, even with the coven gaping. âWhatâs the matter, ladies?â she chuckled, her voice far too calm for the situation, ripping through their stunned silence. âNever seen a witch enjoy herself?â
âOh God⊠w-we heard you scream and thought weâd c-check on you!â Alice hiccupped again as she hurriedly tried to explain why theyâd crashed into her bedroom like three off-brand musketeers.
Agathaâs hips rocked against your mouth, pointed, claiming you even as she taunted them. Her hand slid to your neck, nails scraping lightly, guiding your rhythm with a collectedness that was both impressive and left you throbbing. She arched, her breath hitching, but her eyes stayed locked on the intruders, daring them to stay or scatter.
Lilia swayed, wine sloshing in her glass, her mutter of, âThis is⊠unholy,â half-hearted as she backed toward the door. Jennifer snorted, barely containing a laugh, her eyes darting between you and Agathaâs unapologetic sprawl.
âWell, damn, Harkness,â she cackled, tugging at Aliceâs arm. âWeâll⊠uh, leave you to it.â
Alice stumbled back, her squeaked, âSorry again!â swallowed by the slam of the door as they fumbled out.
Agathaâs thighs clamped down tighter on your head, keeping you thoroughly trapped.
âWell⊠now that thatâs overâŠâ her hand slid back into your hair, dragging you deeper into her cunt, âYouâve got a lot of nights to make up for, puppy. Get to it.â
Seeing a lot of new people show up in my notes with like "proship dni" or whatever so RENT LOWERING GUNSHOT: IM AN ADULT WHO DOES NOT CARE IF PEOPLE HAVE PROBLEMATIC SHIPS, IM OLD AND BELIEVE TABOO FICTION IS SAFE AND HEALTHY, IM AN OLD MAN WHO THINKS IT'S FINE TO HAVE SHIPS THAT WOULD BE BAD IN REAL LIFE, I BELIEVE IN TABOO KINKS AS HEALING PLACES, I DO NOT DO SHIP DISCOURSE, I THINK IT'S OKAY TO WRITE ABOUT BAD THINGS HAPPENING TO GOOD PEOPLE WITHOUT CONDEMNING IT IN THE NARRATIVE, I THINK IT'S OKAY TO GET OFF TO MAKE BELIEVE BAD THINGS!!! THANKS
You can enjoy things in fiction that would be awful in the real world. Like playing a murderhobo in a game! In the real world, being or supporting a murderer-thief would be pretty damn awful, while in the game it's just good fun. Same with anything else you choose to do with the pixels on the screen, like kinks that don't affect anyone real, so they're okay in fiction, but would be pretty damn bad in real life.
No one else is responsible for your online experience. They are required not to harass you, but they are not and never will be obligated to not post about ships, kinks, or tropes you dislike just to avoid you seeing them. It's up to you to blacklist words or phrases, block tags, or even block users as needed to avoid seeing content that upsets you.
No one can force you to read anything against your consent. Any content you don't like seeing can be instantly avoided by closing out of the offending post/fic.
You are not owed an online experience free of discomfort.
Nothing that happens in your imagination can ever make you a bad person. Words you write or read about fictional characters will never make you a bad person.
The claim that media consumption influences real-life behavior is intellectually dishonest and serves only to excuse the behavior of real offenders.
Fiction is a safe way to explore horrifying or confusing concepts. Therapists agree that fiction, even (or especially) about taboo topics is a good coping mechanism, especially, but not exclusively, for trauma survivors. Fiction is to adults what play therapy is to children. This doesn't stop being true if the work in question is of a sexual nature.
Sex isn't an inherently worse or better motivation than anything else. A work written to create feelings of arousal isn't dirty, shameful, or in any way less pure than works written to entertain, provoke moral questions, or for other reasons. And worth noting is that multiple purposes can exist in the same story, especially fanfiction.
You aren't entitled to an explanation for why someone reads, writes, or otherwise enjoys certain works, kinks, tropes, ships, etc.
Maya Mason (bottom)đ x Reader Erotica Writer (top)đ
Quinn comes to you with questions. What's with the lock and the key? đđ
WARNING:đ
BDSM / NSFW / Object Insert BJ / Kinky Talk / TOP AND BOTTOM ROLES / Power play / SPIT KINK / Impact play talk / SAFE SANE CONSENSUAL / Maya is a power bottom / But also she just needs to be a good brat / Dungeon Room Talk / Reader should not have talked to Quinn (that's fucked) / smutty / Lock and Key explained because Apple won't do it / Fetish Talk /đđđđđ
3.3k Words, shorter than normal. If you want this to be a series let me know?
âSo Iâm new to the whole kinky thingâŠAnd you arenâtâŠâ Quinn said to you as you stopped to arch an eyebrow.Â
You were sitting in your nice, expensive black dress. Maya had walked away for two minutes to get you and herself a refill.Â
Which is about as long as she ever stayed away from you.Â
You wrote novels and your book just got converted into a screenplay, which the amazing Pedro Pascal starred as your leading man in the film.
You had beaten the hell out of Fifty Shades of Grey.Â
Your erotica had queer people and you and the director had argued with the studio on how much kink you could show for months.Â
And now it was done, and you had been nominated.Â
And Patty and Matt were chomping at the bit as you sat waiting for them to either tell you youâd won or lost a golden globe.Â
You had been seated at a good table, which is why Quinn had to walk almost four minutes across the floor to get to you.
But she sat down and leaned in like you were two Girl Scouts talking about your first kisses.Â
âIâm not sure where this is going. But are you sure Iâm the one you want to talk to about this? Shouldnât you ask your new kinky partner?â You try, and Quinn shakes her head quickly.Â
Fucking green kinky people were always like this. Like they were the first person to ever masturbate in the eyes of God or something. Â
âNo I canât do thatâŠI just got gifted something and I gotta know. And if I ask her, sheâll think Iâm not in touch. And no one knows more about kink than you. I mean, you just made the most smutty film of the year. Your books are banned in almost twenty states. Please, you have to help me!â Quinn said and you tried not to laugh, but you looked over your shoulder to see where your wife was with the booze.Â
You needed both for this conversation.Â
âOk, any friend of Mayaâs I guess.â You say like you havenât been working with her for the past six months on this film.Â
âThe lock and keyâŠâ She drags on, and you instantly donât want to talk to her. But you see her freak a little at you. âPlease, this woman gave me a lock as a necklace and said tonight sheâd put it on and I have NO CLUE what it even means!â
You wait for a minute before laughing so loud that Matt Damon turns to look at you.Â
âStop, donât laugh itâs not funny!â Quinn said, but you covered your hand over your dark red lipstick-stained mouth and got it under control.Â
âIâm sorry, itâs not funny. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has to start somewhere in knowledge on kink. Itâs not that, I swear. I am curious why me? You are that far along in this process, and you are asking a stranger instead of the woman who wants to collar you.â
You try to show how silly this is. You got this from strangers on the street too.Â
The endless assumptions that because you wrote erotica stories. You were an open book. An Ask Sugar campaign. Or even that your kink/sex life was open for questions while you were at Trader Joe's. It was rude.Â
And you always tried to remind people that sex and kink werenât the same thing. And that intimacy was different for everyone. So that the only person whom they should be talking about this with, is the person they were engaging in these acts with.Â
But just like with Quinn, it never works.Â
âCollar me? What like a sex slave or a pet? And oh my god, I thought we were friends!â
You needed Maya, sheâd tell Quinn to shove it. You try to remain friendly but that was a fucking joke. L.A didnât understand what friendship meant.Â
âWeâre friends? Ok, How long have Maya and I been married? Oh, Oh, Whatâs the name of the first book I wrote? OOoh hereâs a deep one: whatâs my favorite color? No, thatâs too deep for you. I get it, how about my Hogwarts House?â You tease her, and she shakes her head.Â
Hollywood people were so predictable.Â
âBlack andâŠ.God, Iâd say Ravenclaw?â
You snort because she got that from your dress and you wouldnât even get into her assuming your Hogwarts House, that was a mess.
âWhy donât you google it? Thatâs what Steve Jobs would have wanted you to do with your iPhone. And Page and Brin, thatâs why they own Google. So horny queer people can google what they donât know.â
Itâs obvious Quinn doesnât know who any of those people are, and you are reminded you are married to the smartest person in this whole business.Â
Maya fucking read books and kept up the stock. She looked at stupid Tik Tok too, but she still could name the Forbes 100 companies. She knew business and marketing like it was in her veins. So when you talked to Matt, sometimes you wondered how films got made without Maya.
How anything got done in fact. Â
âBecause the person Iâm seeing doesnât want me looking up dirty stuff on the internet,â Quinn says and you think she looks really young right now.Â
âDonât you write fanfiction?â You ask, not judging that. You all started writing somewhere. Youâd written fanfiction about Carrie on Samantha in Sex and The City. That was one of your first dirty stories. Everyone started somewhere, you could be talking to the next Margaret Atwood. Whoâs to say?Â
âThatâs not always dirty! It can be very sweet, in fact!â Quinn almost looks like sheâs going to continue arguing with you. You look over your shoulder for Maya again, and she grabs your arm. You drop your gaze to it like sheâs offended you, and she lets go.âPlease! Iâm desperate, Iâll do anything! Maya wears a lock, and you wear the key! What does that mean? You guys are married so umâŠdoes that mean my new partner loves me?â Quinnâs voice squeaks like a rodent.Â
âI mean it could but..not necessarily.â
âYou gotta help me.â
âOk look, a lot of people in non kinky settings just see the lock and key as love and trust. You hold the lock and she holds the key to your heart. It could just mean that.â You half truth and Quinn isnât buying it.
Smarter than she looks, you figured. Â
âWhatâs the other thing, the kinky thing mean?â
âIâll tell you, but you have to do me a solid first.â You tell her, wondering if the dirt is good enough will Maya not be mad at you?Â
âAnything!â
âWho is she?â
âFuck, I canât tell you that!â
âA deal is a deal, kiddo.â You down the last of your drink. The ice the only thing left for your boredom. Â
âOk, look fine. IâmâŠPatty is fucking me ok!â She whisper screams and you look at her for a moment before laughing so loud again. And you are sure Damon thinks you are a manic menace to society. âI told you now fucking help me!â
You run your thumb under your eye to not ruin your makeup from the tears.Â
âThat is too good.â
âYou can tell Maya and laugh later, I need you come on!â
âIn kink the person wearing the lock is a bottom, are you a bottom, Quinn?â Your voice drops and she turns red.Â
Bottoms were so fucking easy.Â
This wasnât even fair.Â
âHoly shit yeah I am.â
âSo if she puts a lock on you, sheâs saying itâs ownership. Only she can unlock it. If our dear Patty is wearing the key, itâs kinda likeâŠShe owns your submission. She holds the key to your headspace, your trust, your body, and your desires. It could be leaning more romantic, but I gotta tell you. I know Patty and she wouldnât mind me saying this, so Iâll do this for her, Iâm gonna guess sheâs collaring you and wearing that key.â You say, and you wonât say more. Not willing to break more of Pattyâs trust. But you are glad sheâs fucking someone again.Â
You used to go to all kinds of fetish conventions together.Â
Patty knew how to fucking have fun.Â
You hear the ice cubs clink in your glas as a drink lands in front of you.
A hand falls onto your bare shoulder and then her manicured nails trail up your neck.
Thank god, sheâd been gone too long.Â
âQuinn, what the fuck are you doing with my wife? At our table? Go back to the kids table. The adults are busy. Go find someone else to talk to. Sheâs not here for you.â Maya says, and Quinn is still reeling from your words. Her mouth opens and close,s and you are worried youâve broken her.Â
You put your hand on her arm and shake her a little.Â
Her eyes fall down to her cleavage, which Maya notices and doesnât like one bit. But you know itâs not your boobs sheâs thinking about.Â
Sheâs putting it together.Â
You wear a key, usually like four or six keys.Â
Maya always wears at least one if not six locks.Â
âHoly shit! No way Maya is a bot-â You put your hand up to stop her.Â
â-About to kick you in your ass. Now this goes in the vault. No speaking of this ever. Now we both have an understanding. So go away.â You tell her in warning, and she nods in understanding once and then takes off.Â
Mayaâs possessive hand stays on your neck, you let your hand fall on top of hers.Â
âWhat was all of that about?âÂ
You donât keep things from Maya.Â
âIâll tell you the details later. But Patty is fucking Quinn. Which means I owe you three orgasms with my tongue. But Patty is not the bottom so you owe me an hour in our dungeon.â You tell her and she cackles in enjoyment.Â
You both loved making wagers. Gambling with sexual favors and kinky limits.Â
When youâd gotten married you bought a mansion in Beverly Hills. And you and Maya finally got your dirty fantasy.Â
Your own dungeon.Â
âWhy was she staring at your breasts like you were Mary Magdalene?â Maya asked and pulled you closer to her. So you turned and licked your lips seeing her jealousy and hunger.Â
âThat is bedroom talk for later.â
âLucky me. Iâll hold you too it Mrs. Mason.â Maya smirks, and you lean into her and kiss her. Enjoying the expensive perfume she had on. âSo, when you wi,n do I get to eat you out in the limo?â Maya asks, and you hook your finger under the lock necklace and pull her closer to your mouth.Â
âYou said you would behave Mrs. Mason.â You repeat your shared name back.Â
âI am a sucker for punishment I suppose. And you taste so good, besides, I like it when you get all power hungry.â
You twist the lock in your fingers once, and then twice, It tightens against Maya whose mouth opens just a little⊠Her obvious submission is delicious.Â
âIf I twisted it one more time, it would be hard to breathe. Is that right?â You ask like you are asking if she wants another drink. Her eyes dilate, and you have her right where you want her.Â
But Matt walks up, and you drop the necklace.Â
âOh my god I canât fucking wait for us to win! You uh, you are gonna go up there and thank me right?â Matt asks, and Maya growls and turns feral on him.Â
You donât even have to say a word. Your wifey is a little doberman.
âGet the fuck out of here Matt! I swear to god Iâll end your entire career in two seconds if you donât leave this table.â She seethes and you understand why everyone assumes sheâs the top.Â
But it wasnât true.Â
Maya had pretended to be a dom for so long. When you two had met, youâd turned her advances down. Five times, sheâd tried for lunches, coffee, and dinners. But youâd said no every time.Â
Youâd been just a nobody back then. A writer for screenplays and slapstick jokes. You were secretly working on your erotica on the side.Â
Maya wasnât the head of Marketing yet. Life looked different back then.
But Maya was persistent, and she broke the rules to get you.Â
Youâd been at a kinky club in L.A. this was about ten years ago now.Â
Your friend had pulled all the strings to host it for the Hollywood elite. And you were all too happy to join.Â
Nothing like seeing a 65-year-old Tony winner being spanked by a 23-year-old Soap Opera star.Â
It was a big party and people were enjoying various activities.Â
You were helping at a booth on impact play. You had first been asked to teach Shabari. But then someone had fallen through for impact play. So you answered questions, mostly it was about safe impact. Where to hit, what you could hit someone with, safe words were a must. Make sure blood flow is still good. Donât forget the difference between stinging pain and thuddy. As a top it was important to communicate the difference with your sub before engaging in play. You talked and one of your friends (a four time Oscar winner) who was a Master and very gay (in the closet). Used a paddle on the tight actors flesh. One of his submissives whoâd just been signed to Netflix as a lead, was in Puppy play attire was bound in the stockade. So it was easy to see his bare ass as his Master went to town.Â
You drank your Sprite and answered people's questions.Â
All of your phones had been confiscated at the door.Â
This place was full of actors/actresses, directors, producers, magazine editors, and models. None of whom wanted their tastes to be public.Â
No one deserved their face plastered on TMZ for enjoying consensual kink amongst other like-minded people.Â
So you couldnât even read your book or check work emails.Â
You found that enough people came over to ask questions about kink protocol that the time went by fast.Â
But when Maya walked in, you had figured sheâd be here with a group of subs.Â
You knew all too many Doms who were in such denial of their need to submit. That they overcorrected and only topped.Â
You had an inkling, but never thought Maya would confess that to you.
So you eyed her from across the room and then turned your back to her.Â
You were there another hour before she tapped your shoulder.Â
âI knew youâd be here,â Maya said, and her outfit screamed designer and leather fetish. It was mouth-watering, but you didnât let your eyes linger, much to Mayaâs displeasure.Â
âIâm glad you could make it. I hope you enjoy the events.â You go to turn again, but she grabs your elbow now.Â
âThatâs it?â Sheâs offended.Â
âListen, I donât really think Iâm your type. I donât..Iâm not a bottom not a switch either.â You tell her, and Mayaâs mind is reeling.Â
In truth, youâd learn later sheâd never met a domme. Which was inane in Hollywood. But Maya gave off such top vibes that she never had a woman want to top her.Â
Men of course thought they could.Â
But when Matt had tried to push his dick in her mouth sheâd slapped his erect penis stomped on his foot and walked out.Â
But when Maya watched porn at night, she always imagined submitting.Â
Her dark secret was, she had never trusted someone enough to submit. But she wanted it, she wanted it bad.Â
âCan we go somewhere and talk?â
âMaya, I know you arenât used to people saying no. But this party is BDSM oriented. Itâs all on consent, itâs safe, sane, and consensual. And you donât have my consent to top me. Iâm not into it, and Iâm not gonna change my mind when we get naked.â You say more sternly unaware of what it does to Maya.Â
âFuck, jesus please!â Maya shouted and a few people turned to look at the head of marketing saying please.Â
You eyed her for a second.Â
âHave you ever said please to someone before?â You joked, and Maya smirked in response.Â
âNo, never. ButâŠ. I want to..â Mayaâs hand reached for yours and intertwined your fingers. âI really would like to.â She said, and you swore youâd fallen for her right there.Â
The memory ended as your name was called. Maya pinched your thigh under the table to alert you to, yes, they were clapping for you.Â
Youâd won.Â
You stood, and Maya pulled your chair out so you didnât trip. You leaned down and kissed her again and she âwhooped and hollered her excitement at you. She was clapping louder than anyone, and you were dazed as she pushed your lower back towards the stage.Â
You walked up there with the director, Patty and Pedro, and a few others.Â
You donât remember what you said, you just remember Maya at the end of the night.Â
She begged to taste you in the limo as you held the award in your hand.Â
âNo.â You told her, and she whined and bit her lip. Her face turned red with frustration.Â
âBaby please, come on.â
âYou have to wait. But Iâll tell you what you can do.â You took the end of your dress and laid back against the leather of the limo. Pulling your dress up so that your thighs were bare for her. Maya didnât need to be told twice.Â
She straddled your thigh and bucked her hips to ride you. You grabbed her waist to stop her.Â
âPlease, fuck come on. Let me please! I need it, I need you.â Maya squirmed, she said please a lot more these days.Â
âSuck it.â You tell her and place your award on your pubic bone. It looks phallic for the first time to you. And Mayaâs mouth opens as she slowly spits on the globe, and it rolls down the award before she opens her mouth and tries to swallow it.Â
Itâs too big, and it wonât fit in her mouth. But the spit and lipstick is all over it and itâs better than winning.Â
Maya is looking pathetic, and that is your favorite fucking thing. Where Maya loses herself in whatever depraved act, because she needs your touch.Â
You both matched each others freak.Â
It was all about mind games.Â
Your combined headspace was so easy to reach with each other.Â
Maya moans as your finger finds her slit and you push her thong to the side and she gasps. You donât touch her for long, though, and sheâs angry as your fingers move. You lick your pointer finger of her juices.Â
Sheâs delicious. You hum and she bucks her hips involuntarily. Unable to stop the needy noises.Â
Then you take your middle finger that is sticky with her arousal. And you push her face off of the aware do drag it on the top. Leaning forward, you spit on top of the golden globe.Â
And then you nod for her to resume your golden blow job.Â
Mayaâs eyes fell to the key around your neck as she tilted her head to the side. Her dark, long brown hair tickling your leg, as she lay her tongue flat and dragged it up from the base, where your hand was, over your fingers and knuckles, up, up, up to the top of the award once more.
Where her spit mixed with yours and her own arousal. Â
Synopsis: You had just moved back home with your parents after graduating from college. One day you were sunbathing in the garden when you caught the attention of your neighbour and family friend Eve. She was surprised to see you back to say the least and especially all grown up. You were a woman now and she couldn't deny the feelings you sparked in her, little did she know you'd had a crush on her since you were a teen. Now you were both single consenting adults, what would happen next?
Eve Fletcher x Reader (NSFW) â€ïž (includes: slight dirty talk, voyeurism, outdoor/public/car sex, f!ngering, grinding)
Words: 3.1K (slow burn)
For the first time in years Eve Fletcher was alone. She was recently divorced and her son, Brendan, had left for college to start his own life. In the beginning she had been grateful for the freedom and the peace and quiet but eventually âempty nest syndromeâ kicked in. She threw herself into her work, took up new hobbies and had a few meaningless flings with both men and women but nothing seemed to fill the void inside her.
After years of being a housewife and mother Eve had forgotten herself and now she didn't know who she was or what she really wanted. Everything seemed bleak until a chance encounter with someone from the past changed things.
It was a summerâs day and Eve stepped out into her back garden to indulge in a cup of coffee al fresco. The early afternoon sun shone brightly in the sky and there wasnât a cloud in sight. As Eve sipped the hot liquid from her mug she heard the faint sound of music to her left, she looked over into the next garden and couldnât believe her eyes. There you were, the neighbourâs daughter all grown up and sunbathing in a red bikini.
Eve had known you since you were a child and the last time she saw you you were leaving home to go to college, stuffing your fatherâs car with boxes and bags. You were still a teenager back then and now youâd blossomed into a beautiful young woman.
âY/N?â Eve blurted out before she could stop herself.
You turned your head in her direction and sat up, pushing your hair back with your sunglasses.
âHi Mrs Fletcher!â you said cheerily, âhow are you?â
As you approached the waist-high fence Eveâs eyes roamed over your taught yet curvaceous figure.
âIâm g-goodâ she stuttered, âyouâre lookingâŠwellâ.
âThanks! So do you, you havenât changed a bit!â you complimented.
âOh stop, Iâm all middle-aged and frumpy nowâ Eve said, her cheeks flushing pink as she waved a dismissive hand.
âDonât be ridiculous! You havenât aged a day!â
You were laying it on a little thick but something told you she needed the pick-me-up.
âHow's college?â Eve asked, taking another sip of her coffee.
âI just graduated actually, with flying colours too!â you told her.
Eve felt a swell of pride when you said that, she always knew you were smart so to hear you did so well brought a smile to her face.
âCongratulations honey!â she said, you always loved it when she called you that.
âThanks. Howâs Brendan? He must be at college nowâ you guessed.
âYeah he started a few months ago, heâs studying economicsâ.
âWow, not an easy subject but I'm sure he'll do great. How's the hubby?â
Eve's insides churned at the mention of her ex-husband, âweâre not together anymore, we got divorcedâ.
âOh shit Iâm sorryâ you apologised, secretly pleased.
âItâs ok, don't be. Weâre better off apartâ Eve said, her mind drifting back to happier times.
âIn that case can I tell you something?â you asked, leaning forward like you were about to tell her something top secret.
She leaned in closer too, âsure honey. What is it?â
âI always thought you were too good for himâ.
Eve was taken aback by that. She always felt like sheâd stood in her ex-husbandâs shadow so for someone like you to see her, really see her, was surprising.
âYou did? Why?â she questioned.
âBecause youâre kind, caring, funny, smartâ you explained, âand he wasâŠa bit of a dickâ.
Eve burst out laughing, âwell I wonât disagree with you on that!â
âPlus, you know, youâre really attractive tooâ you said it so casually but the compliment went straight to Eveâs heart.
âYou think Iâm attractive?â she asked in disbelief.
âYes. You do have mirrors in your house right?â you joked.
Eve chuckled, a little flustered by your straightforwardness âyes I do but itâs not the same as hearing someone say itâ.
âWell trust me, you areâ you said sincerely and that was something she definitely needed to hear.
You continued chatting and reminiscing for a while longer. Eve found it so easy to talk to you, youâd matured so much and she enjoyed hearing about your time at college. But every now and then her mind would wander at the slightest nuance. A cheeky smile, a few flirtatious words, a look that lingered a beat too long, a bead of sweat that ran down your cleavageâŠ
Eve snapped herself out of her trance, you were young enough to be her daughter for goodness sake! But you seemed so much older and wiser than your age and she hadnât felt so strongly connected, or attracted, to someone like this for a long time.
-
A few days later Eve spotted you in the garden again, this time you were sitting in the sun reading a book wearing a loose shirt and skinny blue jeans.
âHey Y/N, whatcha reading?â she asked as she approached.
âHey. Nothing, just one of mumâs trashy romance novelsâ you replied tossing the book aside.
Eve chuckled, âbored huh?â
âYep, god Iâm actually missing collegeâ you sighed.
âMissing the parties or the coursework?â she teased.
âI hate to admit it but bothâ you confessed, âanyway what are you up to?â
âOh nothing much. Just housework, maybe some gardeningâ.
An idea suddenly popped into your head, âsay do you fancy grabbing some lunch?â
âYou wanna have lunch? With me? Really?â
Eve couldnât understand why a gorgeous young woman like you would want to spend time with her, a middle-aged lonely divorcee.
âYes you! We can have a proper catch up and some nice foodâ you said cheerily, âcome on itâll be funâ.
Eve was tempted, and very flattered, by your offer.
âAlright then. Just let me get changed into something more-â
âNo. Donâtâ you interrupted, âyou look lovely just as you areâ.
Eveâs cheeks burned, your honest words mixed with your slightly demanding tone were doing things to her.
âO-ok. Iâll need to grab my purse though. Iâll meet you out frontâ Eve stuttered and hurried inside.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it holding her forehead. Her mind was a whirlwind, sheâd had crushes before but not like this. She knew she was playing a dangerous game but something about you drew her in and she was powerless to you.
âGet it together Eve. Itâs just lunch thatâs allâ she thought to herself, âjust lunch. Just lunch. Just. Lunchâ.
The car journey was filled with chit chat. Eve kept stealing glances at you as you drove, admiring how gorgeous you looked with your hair blowing in the breeze from the open window.
Finally you arrived at a humble cafe called Frankieâs. You claimed a booth towards the back, giving you plenty of privacy plus a view of the sunny street outside. You ordered your food and drinks with Eve opting for a glass of wine to steady her nerves.
âSo apart from being bored, how are you adjusting to life back home?â she asked.
âIt's a bit strange. I feel like I've changed but everything here stayed the sameâ you replied.
âI know what you mean, I felt like that after the divorce. It's like you're looking at everything through new eyes, but the surroundings don't match your current self.â she said reflectively.
âDid you ever consider moving?â
âYes but I couldnât bring myself to do it. So I redecorated instead and got rid of all traces of my ex-husbandâ.
âGood for youâ you praised, genuinely proud.
As you talked and ate Eve felt much more relaxed, the conversation flowed easily and she enjoyed your company.
âYou know as strange as itâs been coming back home itâs nice to see folks againâ you said, meaning Eve.
âIt's good to have you back kidâ she responded with a warm smile.
âKid? Really?â
âWell Iâve known you since you were a kid so it just feels natural to call you thatâ.
âGood point. But is that how you still see me? As a kid?â you asked with a hint of something that sounded like flirtation.
âNo, I guess not. Youâre all grown up nowâ Eve replied.
You smirked and decided to press her further, âis that what you thought when you saw me sunbathing?â
Eve wouldnât dare tell you exactly what she thought, but the knowing look on your face told her that you knew anyway.
âY-yeahâ she sputtered, âI couldnât quite believe it was youâ.
You leaned on the table and lowered your voice, âdoes that mean you liked what you saw?â
âIâŠâ Eve started but trailed off, your proximity and direct eye contact were far too distracting. You certainly werenât a kid anymore and you knew exactly what you were doing.
âI saw the way you were looking at meâ you purred, âit was the same way I used to look at you when I was youngerâ.
Eve blinked in surprise, âwhat do you mean?â
âI had a crush on you for years and to be honestâŠI still doâ you confessed.
Eveâs heart skipped several beats, she couldnât believe what she was hearing. You were so brazen yet she could barely speak. You were so close now that she could smell your perfume, she glanced down at your slightly parted lips and wanted nothing more than to pull you closer and kiss you senseless.
âHow old are you?â Eve asked cautiously.
âTwenty-three. You?â
Eve cringed inside, âforty-five. Quite a big differenceâ.
âSo?â
âBut youâre gorgeous, you could have anyone-â
âI donât want anyoneâ you told her firmly.
You stared at each other for another few seconds, neither of you knowing what to do. But one thing was for certain, this burning desire was mutual.
Before either of you could act the waiter interrupted the moment, âwould you like any desserts ladies?â
âUm n-no, just the bill pleaseâ you said politely and off he went.
Eve shook herself back to reality then quickly excused herself to the bathroom.
âPull yourself together Eveâ she chided herself as she splashed her face with cold water then stared at her reflection in the mirror.
All she saw was a lonely divorcee with a silly infatuation, but your words kept repeating themselves in her head and they made her feelâŠwanted. Something that almost seemed foreign to her.
Once youâd settled the bill, you left the restaurant together and walked back to your car in silence. You were suddenly doubting yourself and wondering if youâd said too much.
âIâm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable back thereâ you apologised.
Eve shook her head, âno you didnât. It was just a little unexpectedâ.
Another silence.
âBefore we go back thereâs something I want to show youâ you said.
âWhat is it?â Eve replied, curiosity piqued.
âYouâll seeâ.
You started the engine and drove in the opposite direction to home.
You took a scenic route and eventually came to a viewpoint that overlooked the city. It was a rather secluded area tucked away amongst the trees but the worn ground suggested that other people had been here too.
âWowâ Eve gasped as she stepped out of the car.
âLovely isnât it?â you said, leaning on the car bonnet and admiring the view.
âIt really isâ Eve said in wonder, âhow did you find this place?â
âMe and Brendan found it on one of your little adventuresâ you recalled.
Eve smiled, imagining you and Brendan as children sneaking up here to play.
The sun was starting to set and the first few street lights below flickered to life.
Eve took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking a moment to just feel. You looked over at her and admired her profile, she was still so pretty. Everyone could see it but her.
You leaned against the bonnet in silence for a while until Eve spoke.
âSo how big was this crush you had on me?â
âPretty bigâ you chuckled, âone time I crashed my bike on purpose outside your house just to get your attentionâ.
Eve let out a laugh, âyou did that on purpose hoping Iâd kiss you better?â
âThatâs what I was hoping for. But I did get your attentionâ you said smugly.
Eve giggled, âyeah you did. Even if you had to make a whole performance of itâ.
âDo you remember getting an anonymous Valentineâs card?â you asked.
âYes I do, oh god was that you too?! I thought it was from Brendan!â she exclaimed.
âNope, it was me. I snuck over to your house in the early hours of the morning and posted itâ you recollected.
âAww sweetieâ she cooed, âthatâs so cuteâ.
âI donât know what made me think I had a chance with you. But I guess thatâs young love for youâ.
âYeahâŠyeah it isâ.
The longer Eve thought about those times the more it warmed her heart. The word âloveâ hung in the air.
The sun had almost set and more lights came on across the city. You and Eve remained at the viewpoint reminiscing.
âYou know I saw you getting changed onceâ you admitted, sending a jolt of surprise through Eve.
âYou did?!â she said, trying to hide the way her heart was suddenly racing.
âYeah you seemed in a hurry and forgot to close the curtainsâ.
The thought of you watching her undress at the height of your crush was a little embarrassing, but also oddly arousing.
Without thinking she asked, âwhat was going through your mind as you watched me?"
âYou donât wanna knowâ you said in jest but your answer only fuelled Eveâs curiosity more.
She inched closer to you, her voice practically a purr as she spoke.
"No I do want to know, tell me what you were thinking".
âIâŠthought about how soft your skin was, what your hair smelt like, how natural you looked, how gorgeous your figure wasâ you told her.
Eve had never heard someone speak about her like that before. It was obvious you still saw her that way and sheâd never felt more desired in her life.
âSo you just sat there and watched?â she asked, leaning even closer.
âI know it sounds perverse. I just-â.
Eve interrupted you, âit doesnât. I like itâ.
âYou what?â
âI like it. I like that you wanted me that way, that you watched me, imagining all those things" she was invading your personal space now.
âYou wanna know what else?â you murmured, Eve answered with a nod.
âI saw you in your black lacy underwear. You looked incredible. Your hair was wavy and a little messy, you kept pushing it back the way you do. But the best part was when you bent down I got a good view of your cleavageâ.
Each word fuelled the fire burning within her, she was biting her lip so hard it almost hurt.
âAnd what did you do after all that?â she asked, her breath warm on your face.
âWhat do you think I did?â you almost whispered.
She knew the answer but she wanted, no needed, to hear it.
âSay itâ she demanded.
âIâŠfantasised and-â
âWhat did you fantasise about? Tell me everythingâ she said, her desperation breaking through.
âThat you caught me. But you didn't hide. You came over to the window, bit your lip and stripped for me. Then you curled your finger beckoning me overâ your own voice was shaking at this point.
The picture you painted in Eveâs mind made her breath hitch and her heart thump against her ribcage. She could see it so clearly, you spying on her and her letting you.
âWhat would you have done if Iâd did that?â she purred.
âI would have raced over to your house and made you feel wonderfulâ.
âHow? Tell me howâ she pleaded.
âIâd kiss you and touch you everywhere. Iâd worship your body. Iâd give you all the love and pleasure you deserveâ.
She grabbed a fistful of your shirt, âthen give it to me. Give me what I deserveâ.
You were so close that your breaths mingled, you closed the tiny gap and your lips met.
The kiss was tentative at first but once you both got a taste you instantly craved more. You held Eveâs cheek as things grew more heated, she held onto your wrist for an anchor as she lost herself in you. She moaned into your mouth as your tongue pushed past her lips, this was everything youâd wanted since you were a teenager and it was even better than you had dreamed.
Eve gasped when you lifted her to sit onto the bonnet. She instinctively wrapped her legs around your hips and her arms around your neck, trapping you in while you held onto her waist. She filled your senses with her scent, her taste, her touch and her low moans. You couldnât get enough and neither could she.
Your lips moved to Eveâs neck and you felt her pulse beating rapidly on your tongue. You were tempted to mark her, to claim her as yours but it didnât seem right. You were hers and you always had been.
Eve laid back on the car and pulled you down to her by your top, you hovered over her as she bit her lip again and whispered âtake meâ. Your lips crashed together once again and your tongues fought for dominance. One of Eveâs hands was tangled in your hair, the other still clinging onto your shirt. You unbuttoned her blouse as your mouth moved back to her neck. Her back arched as you smothered her torso in kisses, offering up her exposed flesh to you.
âYouâre so beautifulâ you breathed in her ear and for the first time in years Eve felt it.
âI need you darlingâ she begged, holding your face close to hers.
She felt the button on her jeans pop open and zipper moving down, you looked at her for permission to go further and she nodded. Your hand dipped inside and Eve let out a sharp gasp on contact, she was so sensitive already that her hips bucked at the slightest touch. She wasnât sure how long sheâd last like this, so desperate and needy.
âM-moreâ she pleaded, as your index finger slid inside her and your thumb circled her throbbing clit.
She wedged her thigh between your legs to give you friction and together you moved in sync, panting and moaning. When a low growl rumbled in your chest Eve nearly came undone right there. The sound was so erotic and primal, she wasnât going to last much longer.
âIâm so closeâ she panted.
âMe tooâ you replied, âletâs fall togetherâ.
Something about those words made Eve feel safe, you were in this together and she trusted you to take her to the height of pleasure.
âYesâŠyesâŠoh Y/NâŠIâm-!â she was cut off by her own orgasm and you reached your own peak at the same time, crying out her name.
For a few minutes you both stayed in place trembling slightly, catching your breaths as your heart rate slowed back to normal.
âThat was incredibleâ Eve said dreamily, as she gazed up at the dusky sky.
You lifted your head and pressed your forehead to hers, closing your eyes to savour the moment.
âYouâre incredibleâ you told her and kissed her sweetly.
You basked in the afterglow together for a while. The only sounds were your shaky breaths, the cool breeze rustling through the trees and the distant traffic below.
âCome home with me darlingâ Eve said, âI donât think Iâm quite finished with you yetâ.
âNeither am I Mrs Fletcherâ you replied in a sultry tone, âI still have many more fantasies to tell you aboutâ.Â
Plot: agatha betrays you, she kisses someone else, you cannot even look at her. but agatha? agatha cannot lose you and sheâll do anything to make you forgive her.Â
MEN AND MINORS DNI!
You stare at the candle, in its flickering light you see a woman, no, a girl, pressed up against a tree whimpering and moaning as your wife senselessly kisses her.Â
You are not a particularly possessive witch, you know your wife and you trust her. You know she sometimes does unconventional things to get what she wants. A spell here and there, a small sigil, a few drops of forbidden herbs sprinkled into someoneâs cup of teaâŠÂ
The end justifies the means. Machiavelli is said to be the author of that quote, but youâre pretty sure it was Agatha who whispered it into his ear all those centuries ago.
You blink and the image before you dissolves. You furiously wipe away tears that start falling as you feel a tremor in your hands. Your anger fuels your magic.Â
You know Agatha is looking for a powerful spell, a spell to uncover an ancient type of magic. The magic can be used for good things, getting back things youâve lost without having to sacrifice your soul. The girl must be just another piece of the puzzle. You know that. But surely there are different ways to get her to speak.Â
And Agatha always getting what she wants no matter who she hurts? Itâs just become too much.Â
You stand abruptly and go pack your bag. You need to be away from her for some time.Â
You are in middle of packing when your wife comes home, you can see the light blush on her cheeks and you wonder how far sheâs gone. Did you stop looking too soon?Â
âMy love,â she says and comes closer to hug you, but you step away. She frowns and looks around. âAre we going somewhere?âÂ
You chuckle mirthlessly. âI am.âÂ
She has the audacity to look hurt. âWhatâs happened?â
You throw the bag on the floor furiously and cross your arms. âI saw you, Agatha.â Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. âI saw you kiss that girl and who knows what else. What the fuck? Couldnât you have used a potion or something?â
âBaby,â she begs and steps closer again, but the tremor thatâs back in your hands stops her. âI didnât mean to⊠She was an easy target. I saw how she looked at me and thought itâd be easier to-â
âEasier for who?â you raise your voice. âFuck, Agatha, Iâm done. This is too much. I donât care what means you use usually, but you hurt me this time! Iâm done.â You lean down to grab your bag, but sheâs faster and makes it disappear.Â
Suddenly sheâs in front of you, clasping your hands, not caring how freaking angry you are, how much you could hurt her back. âPlease, please,â she whispers, brings your hands to her mouth and kisses them softly. âDonât leave. Iâm sorry.â
You free your hands and step back again. âNo, itâs too late. I need some space.â
There are tears in Agathaâs eyes now, she looks genuinely scared. âNo, Y/N, let me make it better.âÂ
You start shaking more violently now, the anger and hurt too much, you need an outlet. âAgatha, I need to go away, I can feel the anger⊠Iâll hurt you.âÂ
The shaking stops the moment Agatha moves. Because her next move is something that takes your breath away. Agatha Harkness steps closer and gets on her knees right in front of you. You swallow loudly at seeing your wife in that state. Your wife, the almighty Agatha Harkness, getting on her knees.Â
âY/N,â she whispers and takes your palm in her hands, drawing a small sigil with her finger. A sigil that binds her to you. A different kind than the one you did during your marriage ceremony. A sigil that binds her body to you for some time. She cannot do anything without your knowing, without you allowing it.
âAgatha, fuck,â you gasp. âWhat are you doing?â
She drops your hands and puts her palms behind her back. âIâll do anything to make you stay. However much Iâve hurt you, hurt me back. Iâm yours, Y/N Harkness.âÂ
You shake your head furiously and also get on your knees to be on her level. You grab her face gently between your hands, your heart overwhelmed by her display of trust. âI donât want to hurt you.â
She smiles sadly and moves her head to the side to plant a kiss on the sigil on your palm. âYes, you do. And I accept it. I promise Iâll be good, just please⊠stay.â Tears fall down her eyes and you lean closer to catch them with your kisses.Â
You want to refuse, you want to go away for some time, but the image of the girl in the forest appears in your mind again and your hands start shaking once more.Â
âI want you to have a safe word,â you request.
Agatha nods slowly. âBroom.â
You chuckle and kiss her softly on the lips before standing up.Â
Agatha is still kneeling, looking up at you with utter devotion, and you trace her face with your finger, slowly, humming, building the anticipation because Agatha is giving herself to you and for someone like Agatha that is the biggest proof of love.Â
The image is back in your mind and you growl at that and at the same time you run your fingers through Agathaâs wild hair, catching them, grabbing them, making her gasp in pain.Â
âI cannot stop seeing you two,â you snarl in her face. âYou pressing her up against the tree, kissing her, making her moan.â
Another tear starts falling down her cheek and you lean down to lick it. You see tiny sparkles of blue, your magic, around your arm, seeping into Agathaâs skin where youâre holding her, knowing she can now feel your pain.Â
âTell me,â you whisper into her face and catch the strap of her dress with the other hand, dangerously slowly pulling it down. âHow was she?âÂ
Agatha opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.Â
âHow was she?â you growl again and as you pull the strap down her breast falls out of her dress. You immediately grab it, twisting her nipple.Â
She cries out in pain. âShe was nothing! I swear, she was just a pawn!â
You smile predatorily and caress the abused breast before slapping it. âAnd yet, she was worth risking our marriage.âÂ
âY/N, I swear-â
âShut up,â you let out. Your hand leaves her hair and you grab her cheeks, pushing them together. âYouâre my toy now. Mine to use, mine to abuseâŠâ You hum as you magic away her dress altogether and hungrily eye her exposed breasts. âThatâs what you wanted, no? By drawing that sigil.â
You grab her cheeks more firmly and make her stand up, walking her backwards to the bed where you drop her and she falls on her back. âDoes the great Agatha Harkness need to be put in place?â you ask mockingly.Â
You get on the bed between her spread legs and drag your fingers over her thighs, leaving angry red marks from your nails. âThereâs nothing youâll deny me right now, huh?âÂ
Agatha shakes her head. âI told you already, Iâd do anything to make you stay. I love you.â
You tilt your head curiously. âSo if I were to put you naked on a leash and take you on a walk through the villageâŠ?âÂ
Agathaâs face drops, eyes wide, and she whispers: âiâd do it.â Youâre breathless and aching at Agathaâs sudden display of submissiveness.Â
Your finger curiously moves across her panties, the only piece of clothes sheâs wearing since you made her dress disappear. Agatha shivers. Youâre shocked to see how wet she is. Is she truly enjoying being degraded?Â
âHmm,â you murmur. âGood to know. Donât worry, though, this body is for my eyes only. And maybe other whores you use to get what you want.âÂ
You lean over her, pinning her more roughly to the bed, grounding into her center. She bucks her hips in response, eyes fluttering shut as you kiss her violently. Agathaâs legs raise up to come around your hips, planting her ankles on your lower back to push you closer.Â
You grab your wifeâs wrists, dragging her arms above her head and the wild waves that make you want to hide in them. Your hand moves down to cup Agathaâs breast. You pinch the nipple, twist it, before palming it and gently massaging it. Agatha squirms. âFuck, Y/N.âÂ
You reclaim her lips and this time your hand reaches up to settle around your wifeâs throat. Itâs firm, but not too much. Just enough to remind her that youâre the one with control. You lean down to suck on her collarbone, under her jaw, on her pulse, leaving big purple marks behind you, so that everyone knows Agatha Harkness belongs to somebody.Â
Agatha keeps grinding her hips against you and you suddenly have an idea. You stop kissing her and murmur a quick spell against her lips. She gasps as she realises what youâve done, as she feels something growing underneath your pants.Â
You smile wickedly as you make your clothes disappear, as your hands dig into Agathaâs underwear, tearing it away. Now youâre both naked and she can feel you and your new member against her soaked folds.Â
âOh Goddess,â she whimpers and her back arches as you slowly roll your hips, teasing her, but not really giving her what she needs. In the end, itâs going to be your call - thanks to the sigil.Â
Agathaâs pupils are blown out as you suddenly sit up and stand up next to the bed. Sheâs panting, her lips bruised from the kisses, her hair oh so wild. She looks at you like she wants you to break her, to claim her. And you want to do all that. She looks like a goddess and sheâs yours and youâll spend forever reminding her.Â
âCome closer and show me how much you love me,â you order. Agatha moves slowly, she gets on her knees and crawls to you. Her eyes never leave yours as she lowers her head and grabs your magical penis between her lips.Â
You moan as she sucks, her tongue swirling, teeth softly grazing. You grab her hair and push her head. Sheâs still looking up at you and you see the tears in her eyes. You cannot tear your eyes from her face. You never wanted to dominate her, you were both very much equal, enjoying the occasional power battle in sex, but this⊠âYou look so pretty like this,â you whisper. âMouth full of my cock, the best way to shut you up, isnât it?âÂ
She sucks a little bit more but you donât want to come like this. You push her away, reaching for her, kissing her deeply. âFuck, I love you so much.â You can taste yourself on her tongue and once you lean back, you put two fingers on her lips. She immediately parts them and you put the fingers inside, gathering the saliva in her mouth, smearing it across her cheeks. âSuch a good girl for your wife, arenât you?â You dig your nails into her jaw. âGood obedient pet. Who would have thought?â
âY/N,â she whimpers and leans to kiss you again, but you push her away by the shoulders.Â
âGrab the headboard,â you order, motioning to the bars of the bed frame.Â
Agatha turns around and dugs her fingers into the wood. She looks back at you, her face flushed, the usually bright blue eyes darkened, her lips swollen, her back arched.Â
You can feel the fake cock twitch at the sight, your wife obediently waiting for further instructions. You position yourself behind her and drag the tip of your cock through her folds, making her gasp in pleasure.Â
âFuck,â Agatha breathes out and her eyes flutter shut.Â
âYou like this?â you whisper, reaching with your hand for her breast, massaging it. You use your other hand to gently press the cock into her. You move slowly, painfully slowly pushing it inside of her.Â
Agatha tenses and you caress her back. âYou okay?âÂ
She breathes in and out and nods. âYes, Iâm okay.âÂ
You grab her hips and almost pull out before slamming back into her. âYou feel so good, Agatha,â you moan as you fuck her. She rolls her hips to meet your thrusts and an primal need to fuck any thought out of her head overtakes you and you lose yourself in the sensation of a part of you buried deep inside Agathaâs warmth. âYou will never do anything like this ever again.â
Agatha groans as you slam into her especially hard. âNo, I promise.â
âYou are my wife.â
âYess, I am yours,â she cries out. You grab her hair in one hand making her lean back, her back arching even more, your other hand steadies her by holding her waist as you keep thrusting into her.Â
Soon you are both a quivering panting mess and she comes only a second after you because in your mind you allowed her to.Â
You collapse on top of her and once you gather yourself, you magic the cock away. Agatha whimpers at the sudden loss, but then sighs contently.Â
âDo you want to taste me?â You plop down next to her and spread your legs. She peers over her shoulder and then hungrily moves to lay down between your thighs. She looks up at you and you realise sheâs waiting for a fucking approval. âGo ahead, pet.âÂ
Agathaâs nostrils flare up at the nickname, you using her own favorite power play against her, her defiance doesnât last long and she dips her head and licks a long stripe across your cunt.Â
âHmm, so good,â you coo, never moving your eyes away from her. âSuch a good puppy, arenât you?âÂ
Again with the expression. You can tell she hates it, but sheâs not safe wording, so it cannot be that bad for her. You lift up her face by pulling her hair. Her chin is all wet from your pussy. âWhat, pet? Do you not like it when I call you that?âÂ
âI donât, but you can call me whatever you want,â she replies.Â
âYou bet I do,â you say pushing her face back to your center. âNow continue.âÂ
She gets back to licking, devouring and you clasp your thighs around her head when she makes you come.Â
Agatha leans back against your inner thigh, looking up at you with so much love in her eyes that you know itâs enough. You brush your fingers against her cheek, lovingly. You wanted to humiliate her like she humiliated you by kissing someone else and seeing her so thoroughly ruined and marked and spent, you donât feel anger anymore, your magic is still right under the surface, but now itâs calling for your wife - to have her, to care for her, to love her.Â
Sheâs usually the big spoon, but this time you know she needs the aftercare, so you gently gather her in your arms and lift her up to hide her in your embrace, spooning her from behind.Â
She grabs your hands and clasps them in front of her chest, softly kissing them. âI love you, I love you.â
You push your nose into her hair and breathe in deeply. âYouâre a menace, Agatha, but youâre mine.â You plant a kiss on the side of her neck. âI love you so much, you crazy witch.â
Warnings: NSFW, dark undertones, sub!Agatha, dom!reader, slight dumbification, praise kink, etc.
Plot: You are a rich woman who stumbled upon an overworked Agatha. And your need to take care of her gets the best out of you.
MEN AND MINORS DNI!
â
Agatha was a woman you met very randomly when she almost fell asleep standing in a line of a grocery store.Â
You caught her before she could fall down and you saw the exhaustion on her face, the dark shadows under her soft blue eyes and in that moment she took your breath away. You offered to give her a ride home and on the way she confessed sheâs been working three jobs. Her mother had written her off her will and Agatha spent all the money she had trying to save her baby boy who unfortunately died anyway. A brain tumor.Â
Your heart kept breaking for the woman. Money never posed any issue to you, you had your own company, so you couldnât imagine what she was going through.Â
After you dropped her off at a very shady building, you asked her where you could find her. She mumbled a name of a very sleazy bar down the street and you shuddered internally, imagining this petite beautiful woman amongst the drunks.Â
You made sure to visit her often, always leaving a big tip, which you knew she wanted to refuse, but the look in your eyes made her accept it every single time.Â
One day you saw her boss harassing her in the back room and you had enough, especially after she confessed she got evicted from her apartment.Â
âPlease, stay with me, I have a guest room, you can have your own space there.â
Agatha, tears streaming down her face, a bruise left by a touchy man from the previous evening shining on her cheek, quietly nodded.Â
So now Agatha was living in your guest room, you felt better that she was close to you and you could keep her safe. She insisted on going back to work, but you managed to convince her to drop the bar job. She reluctantly admitted that it had been hard to keep the men off her lately.Â
You gave her Peter, your driver, to take her to the other two jobs, you always had a fridge full of groceries so sheâd never have to buy anything, you wanted to give her the world.Â
One evening when Agatha woke up from her nap you brought a bottle of wine to drink. She joined you and soon you were both laughing and drinking on the couch, talking about some reality show you were watching days before.Â
âY/N, thank you so much,â Agatha suddenly whispered and your breath was taken away by how beautiful she looked in the flickering light of the candles around. âI donât know what Iâd do without you. I will get better soon and find my own place, I promise.â
You brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear tenderly. âI like that youâre here with me. You donât have to move anywhere.â
Her eyes flickered to your lips and you waited. You wanted this to be her decision. Soon enough she closed the distance and kissed you softly, her breath tasting like wine and Agatha.Â
You entangled your fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss.Â
The next day you pulled some strings and Agatha was fired from her second job. You felt bad for doing it, but you wanted her to be safe, in your house.Â
She was sad, almost panicking, but you drew her a bath and offered to wash her hair, enjoying her soft moans while your fingers were brushing her scalp firmly.Â
Later you told her that she doesnât need to find another job, if she really wanted to do something, she could sometimes cook at the house.Â
So a few days later you came back, exhausted from work, only to find Agatha in an apron working around the kitchen. You stopped breathing and it took every ounce of will power not to go touch her.Â
âHi!â she welcomed you with a smile. âPlease sit, I have made you a meal.âÂ
You sat, unable to speak, and watch her pour you a glass of wine and prepare a plate for you to eat.Â
She fixed herself a plate, too, and sat beside you. The meal was delicious, but your mind was elsewhere. You know that the housewife fantasy was the dumbest thing ever, but something about Agatha waiting for you at home with dinner ready, wearing a fucking apron lit a fire in your lower belly.Â
âIt was delicious, Agatha,â you said, wiping your mouth on the napkin. âLet me help you with the dishes.â
âNo, no, you go sit and relax, Iâll take care of it,â she pushed you towards the couch.Â
And that became a habit, you coming home from work, Agatha already waiting for you with a smile on her face and prepared dinner.Â
You never spoke about the kiss, you were worried sheâd get scared.Â
But one evening you came home especially annoyed, dealing with stupid people the whole day, so when you saw Agatha in the kitchen, wearing a knee length skirt, a tank top and an apron, you were done pretending there was nothing happening between you. The weeks of soft glances, light touches, the way she was taking care of you and you were taking care of her⊠it all became too much.Â
You sneaked up behind her and laid your hands on her waist and your chin on her shoulder.Â
âAh,â she startled. âI didnât hear you come home. How was work?â She didnât seem phased by your proximity but you could see a blush forming on her cheeks.Â
âHorrible, people are stupid, men even more,â you grumbled into her neck. âIâm so glad to be home.âÂ
She slowly turned in your arms. âDo you need something from me? Please, let me helpâŠâ
You were confused, but Agatha suddenly started pampering your face in gentle kisses and your grip on her hips tightened. âAgathaâŠâÂ
âYou take such good care of me,â she whispered, kissing your neck. âPlease let me take care of you.âÂ
You nearly exploded and pulled away, hating the see the fear of rejection in her eyes. You grabbed her hand and led her to the living room.Â
âI donât want you to feel like you have to do anything,â you said, sitting down.Â
She shook her head and remained standing. âI donât feel like that. I just want to make you feel good. So whatever pissed you off today, please take it out on me.â
You swallowed loudly and then tugged her hand. She slowly lowered herself on your lap.
You put your hand on her thigh, drawing circles on her exposed skin. âYou are the best thing that ever happened to me, Agatha,â you said before the exhaustion and anger of the day took over and you pushed her in the to pillow below. Now she was lying on the couch, each leg on one side of you, looking up at you with wide eyes, full of anticipation.Â
âDo you even know what you do to me?â you asked, positioning yourself into a sitting position between her legs. Your hand caressed her cheek, moving down to grab her breast, brushing her nipple over the material of her tank top. âYour eyes⊠I could drown in them. Your smile when I come home is the best thing of my day. And the apron⊠I want to make you mine every time youâre wearing the damn apron.âÂ
âThen do it,â Agatha whimpered.Â
You growled at that and put your weight on her body, kissing her senselessly, while your hand disappeared below her skirt, fingers gently pressing against her already soaked panties. âOh fuck,â you breathed out against her mouth. âHow long have you been this wet?â
âSince you came home,â Agatha admitted and moaned when your fingers dipped below the fabric. You slowly encircled her entrance before dipping your finger deep into her, swallowing her load moan with another kiss.Â
You added another finger and started fucking her, enjoying the way her hips kept thrusting to meet you, the way her breath kept quickening and the way she kept whimpering.Â
The next day, Agatha was fired from her last job, and to make her day better you took her shopping. She chose some nice dresses and skirts to wear at home when she tugged your hand to the underwear section.Â
She chose some unholy lingerie and called you to the dressing room to check her out.Â
Soon you were pressing her up against the wall, two fingers deep, clamping your hand against her mouth the quiet the sounds she was making.Â
On the weekend you woke up to her bringing you breakfast to bed, wearing only the apron. The breakfast was scattered on the floor when you made her ride your fingers. Later she ate you out beneath the sheets.Â
There was an annual party happening at your firm and Agatha was of course your plus one. She was mesmerising, but during the night you lost her only to find her chatting with one of your subordinates. When he put his hand on her arm, you saw red and dragged her out of there.Â
The drive home was a quiet one and when you arrived, you pushed her up against the door.Â
âWe were just talking, I swear,â she said. But you were already hiking up her dress, slipping your fingers between her folds.Â
âYou are mine,â you growled, fucking her slowly. You had drunk way too much and you felt so angry for someone touching what belonged to you.Â
âI am,â she moaned. âI am yours.â
You withdrew your fingers before she could come and dragged her to the bathroom, taking a strap on out of your drawer.Â
âGet on your hands and knees,â you barked and she quickly obeyed. You pushed your cock into her without warning and grabbed her hips to steady yourself. âThis little body is mine, do you hear me?â
âYess,â Agatha screamed as you kept ramming into her. âIâm only yours, I belong to you.âÂ
You almost came just from those words alone.Â
âCome,â you ordered when you pulled out of her. âClean your mess.â And you watched her move on her knees to the edge of the bed, catching your cum soaked cock between her lips.Â
You grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her head bob up and down. âSee, this is what youâre supposed to do, be pretty and obedient, isnât that right?âÂ
Agatha looked up at you with hooded teary eyes and managed to nod. You pushed her deep onto your cock making her choke.Â
The next morning you felt horrible, you didnât mean to degrade her like that, but Agatha wasnât accepting any apologies. She smiled at you and said she liked how possessive you were.Â
You decided to explore her kinks and occasionally called her a good girl. The way her eyes sparkled and her cheeks burned gave you all the answers you needed.Â
After an exceptionally good sex, you were lying naked in your bed, Agathaâs head on your lap. You were softly tracing the curve of her nose, of her lips. âYou were so good, such a pretty girl for me,â you whispered and you could hear her breath catch.Â
âDo you like that?â you asked, your finger now circling her nipple. âWhen I call you a good girl?â
âY-yes,â Agatha nodded. âI like it. I also like when you take control.â
âHmm, interesting,â you hummed.Â
âIâve spent a lifetime taking care of myself and terribly failing, this feels like a heaven to me,â she confessed, her cheeks bright red.Â
You chuckled and sipped on the wine on your night table. Then you brought the bottle to her lips and spilled some on her face and her chest making her squeal.
You moved down to lick the wine off her. âSo delicious,â you murmured. âYou donât need to do anything ever again, pretty girl. Youâre mine and Iâm yours.â
Agathaâs eyes glistened with tears at your words and you kissed her on the lips. Then you rose up and climbed on top of her, pinning her arms above her head.Â
âSo are you gonna be good now and do what I say?â you whispered against her lips and feel her nod.Â
âUse your words, baby.â
âYes.â
You grab her leg and moved it to the side before planting your cunt directly on hers. Her hips buckled.Â
âNo moving, lay still and let me use you.â You started moving on her, moaning as your sticky centres brushed against one another. âYou feel so good, Agatha.â
Agatha was whimpering, her arms still above her head, watching you, mesmerised. You could see her gripping the sheet and knew she was having a hard time lying still.Â
When you came with her name on her lips, you dipped her fingers into her pussy, dragging the wetness to her mouth. She opened her mouth and welcomed your fingers.Â
âSuch a pretty girl,â you whispered again. âYou donât need anything else in life, right? You just need me.â You burrowed your fingers deeper, making her gag. âThere doesnât have to be any thought or control in your head. I will take care of everything.â
When you laid down next to her later, Agatha draped her body over yours, holding you tightly as if she was scared you were going to leave.Â
Your life with Agatha was everything you had ever wanted. Agatha didnât need to tire herself out working many jobs or fighting off sleazy men, she was happy waiting for you at home.Â
And you drowned her with luxury, gifts and care.Â
You were gonna make her yours in every way possible. And when you presented her with a ring, she accepted.Â
(au or aaa timeline) you were in love with agatha a long time ago, either during an off period with rio or maybe even pre rio. it ended tragically, probably with agatha leaving for some self deprecating reason. now itâs years later and rio is, as always, trying to get agatha back. we are suddenly brought back into agathaâs life for some reason, and both of you want each other back but (you especially) donât want to admit it. desperately need angst & yearning!!! while weâre seemingly just trying to get through whatever our goal is (& are still hurt by our past with agatha), in rioâs mind, sheâs competing with you to get agatha back. neeed rio to tell agatha something like reader is too good for agatha, and that itâs her & rio that deserve each other. but no!! agatha wants to deserve you. comfort + fluff + smut ensues!!
Something Left Beating
Pairing: Au Agatha x Reader, Past Rio x Agatha
Warnings: Unresolved Feelings, Hurt, Angst, Mutual Pining, Past Toxic Relationship, Sad Agatha, Manipulative Rio, Protective Reader, Comfort, Minors DNI 18+, Graphic Sexual Descriptions, Happy Ending.
Word count: 10k
A/N: A few alterations made to increase the drama aspect but I truly hope you like my take on your request, I tried my best!!!
Taglist: @harknessshi @imlike-so-gaydude
Link To Masterlist
You didnât come to the conference expecting your past to catch up with you. Itâs supposed to be a three-day symposium in Boston. Panels. Research presentations. Too much coffee. You packed light and promised yourself no dramaâjust slip in, learn something new, and leave before your pager buzzes again.
You even told yourself it might be fun, in a nerdy, overworked kind of way. A few lectures on surgical innovation, some half-decent wine at the receptions. Maybe a quiet night to yourself for once. But of course, fate has other plans.
The hotel lobby is buzzing with name tags and overpriced suits, old classmates pretending they still remember each otherâs specialties. Youâre halfway through your first glass of wine at the welcome reception when it happens.
You see her. Across the room, perched at the edge of the bar like she owns itâor like sheâs already bored of it. That same air of disinterest she wore back in residency, the one that always made people lean in. Her hair is longer now, pulled back in a lazy twist thatâs starting to come undone. Sheâs in a black suit, sharp but rumpled, the collar open, her badge half-hanging from her lanyard like she couldnât be bothered to fix it.
Agatha Harkness. Head of Neurosurgery at Columbia now, if the whispers are true. The same woman who once taught you how to cheat a craniotomy timeline in under twelve minutes without losing a drop of elegance. The same woman who kissed you once in an empty OR gallery and made it feel like the world had stopped spinning just for the two of you.
You havenât spoken in over six years. Not since she left your apartment that rainy Tuesday morning with no warning, no note, no follow-up. Just gone. Like a bad dream that smelled like bergamot, lavender and old books. Youâd spent the rest of your residency trying to forget the way she looked at you that night before she disappearedâlike you were the only good thing sheâd ever had, and it scared the hell out of her.
You swallow your shock, but your fingers tighten a little around the stem of your glass. You donât wave. She hasnât seen you. Not yet âDonât look so tense,â comes a familiar voice at your side, warm and slick as honey. âThis is a professional conference, not a courtroom.â
You turn, and there she is. Rio Vidal. Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery at Johns Hopkins. Stylish. Cool. Razor-sharp. The kind of person who enters a room and knows exactly how to make you feel like you donât belong there.
Youâve worked with her beforeâonce, maybe twiceâ. Just enough to remember how her presence hums with control. How she smiles like sheâs in on the punchline and youâre the only one who hasnât heard it yet. You nod politely. âDr. Vidal.â
She smiles, but it doesnât reach her eyes. âStill so formal. And here I thought pediatric surgeons were supposed to be warm.â
You donât rise to the bait. Youâve done this dance before. Her gaze shifts past you, sharp and quick. It lands on Agatha. And there it isâthat flicker. The smallest change in posture. The slightest pull at her mouth. Possessive. Territorial. Familiar.
Of course. You remember nowâa colleague in passing, maybe at a holiday party two years ago. Something about Agatha and Rio. Dating, maybe. Or having dated. The timeline was fuzzy. It still is. You never asked for details. You couldnât afford to.
Rio tilts her head, watching you carefully now. âLet me guess,â she says, voice casual, almost bored. âYou two have history.â
You donât answer. But you donât have to. She hums, low and satisfied. âThought so.â The weight of her attention feels like pressure behind your ribs. But all you can do is take another sip of wine, willing your pulse to calm. Across the room, Agatha still hasnât seen you. And maybe thatâs for the best for right now.
The conference is full of sidelong glances and clipped greetings. You expect it from Agathaâher gaze finding you at odd moments during lectures once she registered your presence, her face blank but her eyes betraying just enough softness to make you wish you didnât notice. What you donât expect is how it makes your chest ache. How every stolen look feels like a thread yanked loose from something youâd sewn shut a long time ago.
You spend the first day avoiding unnecessary contact. Easy enough. Youâre good at this kind of thing: controlled interactions, polite distance, strategic exits. Youâre a surgeon. You know how to cut with precision. But the second morning, your name shows up on the discussion docket. Complex Pediatric Neurotrauma. Two presenters. Just you and Agatha.
Of course. You try not to react when they announce it. The moderator, some eager trauma doc from Mount Sinai, beams like heâs proud of the pairing. âTwo of the sharpest minds in the field,â he calls you, glancing between your seats like itâs a matchmaking service instead of a medical conference.
When you take your seat beside her at the front of the panel, she doesnât say a word. She just gives you a brief, unreadable glance and sets her notes down beside yours. The conversation starts off clinical. Safe. You walk through a hypothetical case with clarity and structure, challenging a few minor points she makes on timing, and sheâtrue to formâpushes back. Sharp. Controlled. A little smug. But it slips, doesnât it?
Halfway through the session, you catch her staring just a second too long after you cite a clever technique she taught you during residency. Thereâs a pause, so brief no one else in the room notices, but you do. You both do. The moderator fills the space with a joke. Someone laughs. You look back at your notes like they might anchor you.
The whole room watches the two of you volley points like itâs sport. They donât know the subtext. The tension. They just see chemistry. Colleagues who know how to read each other. You wonder what theyâd think if they knew the last time you saw Agatha Harkness, she was pulling your favorite T-shirt over her head in the dark and whispering something against your neck that sounded an awful lot like love.
After the panel ends, you move fastâout into the hallway, away from the chatter, the questions, the polite praise. You make it about halfway toward the elevators before you hear the click of her heels behind you.
âWaitââ You stop, but you donât turn. She comes up beside you, just far enough to stand in your peripheral vision. Close, but not touching. âYou look the same,â she says, almost shy. âExcept for the blue scrubs and the permanent scowl.â
You glance at her. Her face is open, searching. A familiar nervousness just under her voice, like sheâs trying too hard to sound casual. You donât smile. You havenât let yourself in a long time âI look like someone who doesnât have time to entertain ghosts.â
The words leave your mouth colder than you mean them to, but you donât take them back. She flinches like youâve slapped her. You donât feel good about it, but you donât apologize either. Thereâs a beat of silence between you. Then she nodsâslow, smallâand backs away. You donât go to the cocktail hour that night.
You tell yourself itâs because youâre tired, because you have an early session to prep for. But the truth is simpler: you donât want to be in a room where Agatha and Rio might be within ten feet of each other. You donât want to see whatever version of their relationship still exists.
Agatha doesnât avoid it, though. Neither does Rio. You hear about what happened the next morning, over stale muffins and weak coffee in the hotel restaurant. A colleague back from your fellowship yearsâsomeone who always talked a little too much, leans in, whispering, âDid you hear about Agatha last night?â
You donât answer, but they go on anyway âVidal had her pinned against the wall near the back exit. Looked intense. I couldnât hear what was being said, butâGod, the way Agatha looked. Like someone had just turned her inside out.â
You freeze mid-sip âThey werenât fighting, exactly,â the colleague continues, tone gossipy and casual. âBut it wasnât romantic, either. Rio was saying something lowâreal low. And Agatha just⊠pulled away. Like she was burnt.â
You set your coffee down without finishing it. The conference moves on. So do the lectures. The sessions. The polite hellos. But you donât. Because now the image is in your head. Agatha against the wall, Rio in her space. And whatever she said that made Agatha retreat like thatâlike she was trying not to shatter.
It gets worse. Day three. Final presentations. Youâre standing just outside âLecture Hall Câ, a modest crowd filtering in behind you. Youâre supposed to be preparing for your ethics panelââThe Line Between Heroism and Harmââbut your eyes arenât on your notes. Theyâre fixated on the figure leaning against the hallway wall.
Agatha. Alone, at first. Staring down at her phone like sheâs not really seeing it. Then Rio rounds the corner. You spot her before Agatha doesâtall, sleek, collected, her conference badge swinging with each step. Thereâs no warning, no hesitation. She walks straight up and steps into Agathaâs space like itâs hers to claim.
You donât move. Not yet. Something tells you this isnât a casual check-in. Agatha doesnât see you, not from her angle. Neither does Rio. But youâre close enough to hear it if you try hard enough âReally, you stalking her now?â She hums âSheâs too good for you, you know.â The words are soft, but they cut with precision. Agathaâs body tightens, spine going rigid beneath her fitted blazer. She doesnât look up.
Rioâs voice is smooth, unbotheredâtoo casual to be harmless. The kind of voice that belongs to someone who came to win a small fight an already lost war. âShe always was,â Rio says. âI didnât see it then, back when we were together. You were always distracted, always somewhere else. I chalked it up to the job. Long hours, impossible expectations.â A low laugh. âI thought I was being understanding. Patient. Supportive.â
Agatha looks up, lips parting like she wants to say something, but Rio barrels past her hesitation. âBut now I get it.â She steps in closer. Her tone dropsâno longer amused. Just bitter. Sharp âYou were never with me. Not really. Because she never left your head.â
Agathaâs jaw clenches. She turns her face slightly away, but Rio doesnât let up âAll that time, I kept thinking maybe you were just emotionally stuck, needed time. Some tortured genius routine.â She scoffs. âBut it wasnât that. It was her. It was always her.â
You canât breathe. Rio leans in until her voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear every syllable like itâs etched into your bones âYou needed someone like her to believe you werenât already too far gone. You latched onto that. Sucked the warmth out of her like it could save you. But youâre still empty, Agatha. Still broken in all the places you refuse to name.â
Agathaâs throat moves as she swallows. Her voice is a rasp when she finally speak âStop.â
But Rio only tilts her head, eyes glittering with something ugly. âWhy? Because Iâm wrong?â She pauses. âOr because sheâs finally close enough to hear it?â
That lands like a shot. Agatha turnsâslow, unsureâand her eyes lock with yours down the hallway. For one suspended second, none of you speak. Rio follows her gaze and sighs with theatrical exhaustion, like sheâs tired of playing nice. âSheâs not stupid enough to let you do it again, crawl back after a few pathetic years apartâŠ.â
You see the words hit Agatha like a blow. But she doesnât fight back. She doesnât deny it. She just stands there, small and still in a way youâve never seen her. And youâGod, you were trying to stay out of it. Trying to be composed. Detached. But the fire in your chest is too hot now, roaring like something ancient.
Your voice cuts across the space before you can stop it, feet moving of their own volition âBack off.â They both turn. Agathaâs breath stutters. Her eyes widen in a flash of disbeliefâlike sheâs seeing a ghost she still dreams about.
Rio, for her part, just arches a brow. She recovers fast. âDefensive,â she muses, folding her arms. âCute.â
You step forward slowly, never once looking at Rio again. You move until youâre standing right in front of Agathaâclose enough to see the sheen in her eyes, the way her shoulders have folded inward like sheâs trying to disappear. You donât say anything, You just look at her and in that silence, everything youâve buried claws to the surface.
You see her grief. Her regret. Her longing. You see the way sheâs barely keeping it together under all her tailored control. But mostly, you see the way sheâs looking at you nowâlike she never stopped. Rio makes a sound behind youâdisgusted, tired, furious. âThis again?â she mutters. âFine. Go ahead. Pretend like she wonât ruin you too.â
Then she walks off, heels striking the tile like punctuation, leaving nothing but silence in her wake. Agatha doesnât move, She breathes in like it hurts. âI didnât think youâd ever speak to me again.â
Your throat is dry. âCan you blame me.â
âNo.â
âYou didnât even say goodbye.â
âI know.â You can feel the weight in your chest building, pressing against your ribs like it might shatter you from the inside.
âI loved you,â you whisper.
Her eyes squeeze shut. Her voice cracks when she says, âI know.â
The silence breaks something open between you. âI thought Iâd destroy you if I stayed,â she confesses. âI thought youâd get sick of carrying me.â
Your voice is raw. âYou did anyway.â She winces. Turns her face away. For a second, you think she wonât recover from it.
But thenâquieter, more fragileâshe says, âIâve been trying to be better. For years. And when I saw you again, I wanted to disappear. I thought maybe I could do the right thing by staying away. But I didnât. Because⊠I want to deserve you. I want to try.â
The ache in your chest becomes unbearable. You hate how much it still affects you. You hate that you want to believe her âYou canât just say that,â you say, voice thick. âYou canât just want it.â
âI know.â She pauses. âBut I do. I always have.â And thenâcarefully, without urgencyâshe lifts her hand and reaches for you. Not possessively. Not with guilt. Just open. Honest.
And before you can think better of it, you lean in. The kiss is soft, slow. Tender. Every breath you didnât take for the last six years lives in this one moment. Her mouth moves with apology and reverence and fear and hope. Her fingers curve along your jaw like sheâs touching something sacred.
When you finally part, her forehead rests against yours. Her whisper is soft. Unshakable âI never stopped.â
You donât say it back. But your hand stays wrapped in hers. Her fingers are still curled around yours when you open your eyes.
The unexpected kiss lingers like an aftershock, soft and weighty between you. Her thumb brushes against the back of your hand like she doesnât want to let go just yet. Like sheâs afraid this is the last time sheâll be allowed to touch you.
And it should be easy to stay like this. To lean back in, to chase that feeling a little longer. But youâre still standing outside a lecture hall. Your name is on a panel. Time is moving, and this moment canât stretch forever, no matter how much part of you wants it to.
So you exhale slowly, like trying to steady the ache in your chest, and you pull backâjust a step. Her hand slips from yours. Agathaâs brows draw together, panic flickering across her features for half a second before she schools it. Her hands fall to her sides like sheâs trying not to clench them into fists.
âIâI have to go,â you murmur, still close enough that your breath brushes her cheek.
Her expression falters. âOh. Right. The panel.â
You nod, swallowing hard. âEthics and⊠broken promises, I guess.â
A ghost of a smile tugs at her mouth. Itâs small. Wounded. You almost reach for her again. You almost kiss her goodbye. But instead, you draw a breath and sayââI want to see you after.â
She blinks. âYou do?â
You nod. Your voice softens. âWe need to talk about this, before anything proceeds.â
The relief in her eyes is instant. But she nods, gently. Carefully. âOkay,â she says, and her voice is steadier than you expected. âIâll be here.â
You linger for a second longer, caught between hesitation and gravity.Then you step backâfully this timeâand turn toward the lecture hall doors. You feel her eyes on you the entire way down the corridor. You donât look back. But as you reach for the handle, your heart is pounding like it already knows this story isnât finished. Not yet.
The panel goes by in a blur. You answer questions, reference studies, debate a few fine points of autonomy and trauma-informed care. You speak with the precision they expect of you, steady and measured, even when your hands are trembling behind the lectern. No one seems to notice.
But sheâs all you can think about. The way her hand fit in yours. The look in her eyes after you kissed her like the world hadnât ended. The way your name sounded on her breathâlike it still belonged to her.
When the session ends, you field a few handshakes, a couple of compliments you donât remember how to respond to. You make your way out of the hall with your notes clutched tighter than they need to be, pretending youâre not scanning the hallway as you step through the doors.
But you see her immediately. Sheâs waiting just outside the entrance, standing off to the side near one of the wide lobby windows, backlit by pale afternoon light. Her coat is folded over one arm, her other hand twisting her badge lanyard nervously. Sheâs trying to look composed, but you can see the restlessness in her stance. The restraint. Like sheâs not sure youâll come backâand itâs killing her to wait.
You pause for half a second, just watching her. Then you walk to herâslowly, carefully, timid in step but not in purpose. And when you reach her, you donât say anything right away. You just look at her, taking her in all over again.
She opens her mouth, but whatever she was going to say disappears when you reach for her hand and wrap your fingers around hers.
The way you hold it this timeâsure, solid, warmâmakes her exhale like sheâs been holding her breath since you left.
Your voice is quiet when you speak âCome to lunch with me.â Her eyes widen just a little.
You squeeze her hand, gentle but steady. âIâm buying.â Something flickers across her faceâhope, disbelief, something brighter under the surfaceâand then she nods. Once. Twice. Like itâs the only thing she knows how to do.
âIâd like that,â she says. You donât let go of her hand. And this time, neither does she.
Neither of you say much at first. You order for both of youâsome kind of soup you canât pronounce and a flatbread with roasted vegetables. Agatha doesnât argue. She hasnât stopped looking at you since you sat down. You drink half a glass of water before you finally speak âI didnât like seeing her talk to you like that.â
Agathaâs eyes flicker. The moment tenses âI know,â she says quietly. You rest your elbows on the table, hands clasped. You arenât angryânot really. But the image of it still hasnât left you. Her pressed against the wall, Rioâs voice biting. The way she looked when you stepped inâlike shame and fear and something else tangled beneath her skin.
âWhat happened between you two?â you ask softly. âYou donât have to tell me everything. I just⊠I want to understand.â Agatha hesitates. Her gaze drops to the table, then slowly returns to yours. Her fingers move to the edge of her napkin, twisting it lightly.
âI met her about a yearâ maybe a little more after I left the hospital, we were just friends at firstâŠ.â she begins. âShe was brilliant. Sharp. She didnât ask too many questions. At first, I thought that was a good thing.â You listen, watching her carefully âShe liked control. And I⊠I was tired of feeling like a mess. I thought maybe if I stayed near someone who had everything figured out, I could fake it. Maybe Iâd become better by proximity.â She gives a faint, bitter smile. âDidnât work.â
Your voice is low, careful. âShe seemed angry.â
Agatha huffs a dry, humorless laugh. âShe is. And now I understand why.â Her fingers stop moving. âShe used to ask if I was ever really present with her. I always said yes. But I wasnât. I was still in love with someone else.â
The words land soft and heavy. Your chest tightens, but you donât look away. âThat still doesnât give her the right to talk to you like that.â
Agatha meets your gaze again. This time, thereâs something flickering behind her eyesâembarrassment, maybe. Or regret. âI think she figured it out,â she says. âBack at the hotel, when she saw me looking at you. That I never really looked at her that way.â She pauses. âShe was cruel because she wanted to hurt me. The way I hurt her. But that doesnât make it okay.â
âNo,â you say quietly. âIt doesnât.â You watch her for a moment. The light filters across her face, catching in the strands of hair tucked behind her ear. She looks different nowâolder, maybe. Tired. But open in a way you havenât seen in years. Like sheâs finally willing to be known again.
âI hated seeing you like thatâŠalmost broken,â you admit.
âIve never known how to stop herââ Agatha says, voice low. âPart of me thought maybe I deserved it.â
âYou donât, not like that.â She looks at youâreally looks.
And when she speaks again, itâs barely a whisper. âYouâre the only person who ever made me feel like I wasnâtâbroken.â Your throat tightens. You push your hand across the table, palm up, open. She stares at it for a long second before placing hers in yours, slowly. Carefully.
You squeeze it. Not hard. Just enough to remind her youâre here. âWeâre gonna talk more,â you say, gently. âLater. About us. About everything.â
Agatha nods. Her thumb moves over the back of your hand. âI want to.â For the first time in a long time, you let yourself genuinely smile. Itâs small. But real.
The conference ends just past sunset. People begin to scatterâcalls to catch, flights to chase, late dinners to attend. You and Agatha linger near the main atrium, standing close but not quite touching, her coat folded over one arm again like earlier. Thereâs an ease between you now, but itâs a quiet oneâdelicate, like glass still settling after a crack.
You talk idly as you walk down the wide hotel hallway, your voices soft under the golden ceiling lights. She laughs onceâreally laughsâat something you say, and it hits you in the chest harder than anything Rio ever could. That sound. You forgot how much you missed it.
The elevator glows at the end of the corridor, stainless steel doors already open, waiting. You both step inside, Itâs just you. No one else. The mirrored walls reflect the two of you back in perfect symmetry. You see how close youâre standing. How natural it looks. How inevitable it feels. Agathaâs floor lights up just beneath yoursâ12. Youâre on 14.
Thereâs a soft hum of movement as the elevator begins to rise. You glance over at her. Sheâs staring ahead at the numbers ticking upward, but her eyes are unfocused. Your voice breaks the silence gently âDo you want to come inside? My room, I mean.â
Her eyes flick to yours, startled but not unwilling âI have two little bottles of pinot noir they give you in the mini bar,â you add, trying to ease the tension with a hint of a smile. âWe could talk some more. Just⊠finish what we started.â
She hesitates for only a second, Then nods. âIâd like that.â Your hotel room is clean but impersonal. Neutral tones. Standard artwork. A distant view of the city skyline out the window. The lights from traffic below bleed through the sheer curtains in thin ribbons.
You toss your badge on the desk and grab two glasses from the credenza, pouring the wine without asking if she wants any. You just know. Agatha stands near the window, arms crossed loosely. Sheâs not tense, just⊠guarded. Her back to you, her silhouette outlined in citylight.
You pass her a glass and sit on the edge of the couch, waiting until she joins you. When she finally does, itâs not close enough to touch, but itâs closer than she was the last time you were in the same room together. You both sip quietly. A few beats pass before you speak âSoâŠâ Your voice is low. âAbout us.â
Agatha exhales, gaze fixed on her glass âYou donât have to say anything youâre not ready to,â you offer. âBut I need to know if Iâm justâŠâ You hesitate. âIf Iâm just a ghost youâre chasing. A guilt youâre trying to fix.â
Her eyes snap to yours. âYouâre not a ghost.â
âThen what am I?â
Agatha swallows. âYouâre the mistake I never forgave myself for.â You donât speak. Not yet
âI wasnât good for you,â she says. âBack then, I wasâscared. Tired. Self-destructive. I didnât know how to love someone without bleeding on them.â Her voice tightens. âYou were this bright, hopeful thing, and I felt like all I ever did was dim you.â
You stare at her. âYou didnât dim me.â She looks unconvinced.
âYou made me feel seen, Agatha. Maybe for the first time in my life.â The words hit her harder than you expect. Her eyes go soft, almost wet. Her mouth opens, then closes.
You lean in slightly. âIâm not saying it didnât hurt. God, it did. You broke my heart. But that doesnât mean I stopped loving you.â
Silence. Then, barely a whisperââDo you still?â Your breath catches. You donât answer right away. Instead, you reach out and take her hand again, the same way you did in the hallway earlier. Her fingers twitch in surprise, then curl around yours like instinct.
âI donât know what we are,â you say. âI donât know what we can be. But Iâm still willing to find out. If you are.â Agatha stares at you, like sheâs still trying to determine if youâre real.
Then she nods. Slowly âIâm scared,â she admits.
âI am too.â You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back. And for the first time in years, it feels like maybe youâre finally on the same page. Together. The silence between you softens.
Her fingers remain tangled in yours, warm and tentative, but present. You both sit like that for a while, just breathing the same air, sipping slowly from your glasses and letting the weight of everything unsaid settle between you. When she speaks again, itâs barely audible.
âI used to fall asleep thinking about you,â Agatha murmurs, her thumb brushing faint circles into your knuckles. âWondering if you were okay. If you hated me. If you moved on.â You look at herâreally look.
Sheâs tired around the edges. Worn down. But beautiful in the way only someone youâve loved can still be. And vulnerable, in a way she never used to let herself be. Not even with you. Your voice is quiet when you answer. âI tried to move on.â
Agatha swallows. Her gaze drops. âDid it work?â
You shake your head. âNo.â The air shifts. Your thumb grazes hers. Her eyes lift to meet yours againâand for the first time in hours, thereâs no distance. No defense. Just Agatha. Just you. And the hum of something neither of you have touched in years but never truly lost.
You lean in first. Only slightly. Just enough to give her the space to pull back, if she needs to. She doesnât. Instead, she meets you halfway. The kiss is slowâsoft and reverent. Her lips brush yours with such care, it nearly breaks you. Like sheâs afraid sheâll wake up and youâll be gone again. You feel the tremble in her hand where it tightens around yours, and the soft exhale she lets out like sheâs been waiting to breathe you in.
You kiss her again. A little deeper this time. She tilts toward you, free hand rising to your jaw. Her fingers graze your skin like itâs holyâlike youâre still hers in some small, sacred way. The kiss grows warmer, fuller, and you taste years in it. Regret, forgiveness, longing. All of it bleeding through every press of her mouth.
She sighs into you, and itâs like something snaps. Suddenly sheâs pulling you closerâinto her, your hands laced in her hair before you can stop them. Her coat falls to back off her shoulders, forgotten. She shifts, kissing you like she needs it to survive, like she only now realizes how much sheâs missed the taste of your mouth, the feel of your skin under her fingertips.
You part her lips with yours, and she answers you with a soft, desperate noise that echoes in your chest. She pulls back for a breath, just barely, her forehead against yours, voice ragged âThisââ she whispers. âThis isnât just muscle memory.â
You nod, still breathless. âNo. Itâs not.â. Your thumb grazes her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin, the delicate curve of her cheekbone. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, a shuddering breath escaping her lips. When she opens them again there's no distance in her gaze now, no walls erected to keep you out. Just Agatha - raw, open, and breathtakingly vulnerable. Your breath catches at the sight, at the sheer beauty of her laying herself bare before you. You feel your own eyes grow wet, tears pricking the corners as you drink in the woman you've loved for what feels like eternity.
You lean in further, until your lips are a hairsbreadth from hers, she tilts her chin up, her mouth meeting yours in the middle. The kiss is firm, needy. A sigh escapes you at the first brush of her lips against yours. It's a kiss filled with longing, with years of unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. You can taste the quiet ache of a love left unexplored.
She hums softly into the kiss, a sound that vibrates through your chest and settles deep in your bones. Her fingers tighten in your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp. She presses closer, until her chest flattens against your own, until her lips part, her breath mingling with your own. You deepen the kiss, your tongue tracing the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. She grants it to you eagerly, tongue sliding against yours in a sensual dance of give and take. Each stroke, each caress, stokes the fire building low in your belly, the hunger only she can incite.
Her hands slipped down from your hair to roam your back, fingers sinking into the fabric as she holds you to her. You can feel every inch of her body against yours - every curve, every valley, every plane. She fits against you like she was made for you, like she was carved from your dreams. But it's not just lust, not just the aching need to possess and be possessed. It's the recognition of something deeper, something that goes beyond the physical. It's the acknowledgment of a connection that's never truly been severed, no matter how hard you both tried to cut it away.
You pour everything you feel into the kiss, every unspoken word, every pent-up emotion, every regret and sorrow. You claim her mouth like it's your last chance, your only hope for redemption. And she takes it. Takes you. Takes everything you're offering and returns it tenfold. Her passion ignites your own, her hunger feeding yours until you're both lost in the consuming flames of a love you thought you'd lost.
You slip an arm around Agatha's waist, your hand splaying across the small of her back. With a gentle yet firm pressure, you lay her down completely against the plush cushions of the couch. As she settles back, you slot yourself seamlessly between her parted thighs, the heat of her core a rand against your stomach even through the fabric of your shirt. The hem of her dress rides up, exposing the creamy expanse of her flesh, the delicate lace of her panties a tease against where you crave to be.
You settle your weight against her, your body blanketing her softness molding to every valley and peak. Your head dips, catching her gaze, drinking in the hazy, lust-filled look that's returned to her eyes. A shaky exhale parts your kiss-swollen lips as your heart hammers wildly in your chest. Your fingers skim up the bared expanse of her thigh, traces of tingling goosebumps in their wake. You feel the tension thrumming through her muscles, the anticipation building with every passing second.
"Tell me you still feel it too" you murmur, voice low and rough with need. "Tell me I'm not alone in this... in us." You palm her inner thigh, fingers sinking into the supple flesh as your eyes search hers, desperate for confirmation. For absolution. Your mouth finds the racing pulse at the base of her throat, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to the fluttering skin. You feel yourself drowning in her scent, in the warmth of her, in the way she yields so sweetly beneath your touch.
"Stay with meâ" you breathe against her throat, your lips brushing her flesh with every word. "Don't run. Not this time." Your voice hitches on a tremor of emotion, fear and hope tangling together as your fingers slide higher, your touch growing bolder. Bold enough to press against the lace barrier between you, to feel the heated silk of her through the thin scrap of fabric.
You press two fingers against the damp lace covering Agatha's core, rubbing in slow deliberate circles. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the way she begins to soak through the fabric, telling you exactly how much she wants this, wants you. Your other hand slides up her side, tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip. You cup the soft swell of her breast, thumbing over the peak of her nipple through the material of her dress. You feel it pebble beneath your touch, straining against the confines of her clothing.
âPlease say youâll stay with me," you murmur against her throat, your lips brushing her skin with each word. "Right here in my arms, where you belong." You punctuate the demand with a roll of your hips, grinding your fingers harder against her clothed sex. You can feel her moan, a shuddering exhale against your jaw.
"Let me take care of you," you whisper, your voice gruff with emotion. "Let me love you like you've always deserved to be loved please babyâ" You slip your fingers beneath the lace now, skin on skin, feeling the slick heat of her arousal coating your fingerstips. She's so wet, so ready, her body singing with desire for your touch.
"PleaseâI need you" she whimpers, back arching slightly off the couch as you tease her sensitive flesh. You circle her entrance, tracing the delicate ring before pressing two fingers inside her in one smooth thrust. Her velvet walls clench around you, gripping and sucking as if trying to pull you impossibly deeper "Oh god, yes..." she gasps, hips canting to take you in further.
You set a deep, steady rhythm, fingers pumping in and out of her fluttering hole as your other hand maps the soft swells and curves of her trembling body. You work her higher, feeling her tighten, feeling her throb and twitch as her pleasure builds. With your thumb, you find her clit, rubbing the sensitive pearl in tight, demanding circles. She's already a hairsbreadth from the edge, her climax surging forth like a tidal wave, threatening to crash over her at any moment.
That's when you lean in and capture her mouth, swallowing her cries and moans of ecstasy, muffling them against your own lips. You kiss her like a woman starved, like a woman in love, like a woman who refuses to let her go ever fucking again. Because in this moment, you know with every fiber of your being that this is where you both belong - together, intertwined, lost in pleasure and each other's embrace. Forever. Always. No matter what it takes.
You curl your fingers inside Agatha's dripping sex, stroking along her velvety walls with a tenderness that makes her toes curl. Your thumb presses firmly against her swollen clit, rubbing in a steady, methodical rhythm that has her seeing stars. Each swipe sends a jolt of electric pleasure shooting up her spine, coiling tighter and tighter in her core.
"Baby-" she whimpers, her hips rocking against your hand as she chases her rapidly approaching climax. "Just like that, fuck you feel so goodâ" Her voice is a needy, desperate keen, raw with desire and an emotion far deeper. Tears prick the corners of her eyes as she stares up at you, her gaze a potent mix of lust, love, and a longing that speaks to the years of emptiness between you.
You feel it too, that aching void that's haunted you both, The hole in your hearts carved by the loss of something precious. Something real. Something you never stopped loving, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you could. That you deserved to. But in this moment, with her body trembling and clenching around your fingers, with her breathy cries of pleasure echoing in your ears, you know the truth. She was yours. And you were hers. Before, now, and always.
"Come for me sweetheart," you murmur, your voice a low, fervent rumble against the column of her throat. "Need to feel you let go for me." Your fingers pump faster, curling and stroking her with practiced ease, almost like second nature. Your thumb presses harder, rubbing furious circles. You lean down, capturing the delicate skin of her pulse point between your lips. Your teeth graze the sensitive flesh before you latch on, sucking softly at first, then with increasing pressure. You lave your tongue over the rapidly fluttering pulse, tasting the salt of her skin and the thrum of her heart as her arousal builds.
Your fingers never cease their relentless stroking, curling and pressing deep inside of her, coaxing out her pleasure with every thrust and swirl. Sheâd coating your fingers, dripping down to your palm and wrist, making filthy, wet sounds that fill the room and mingle with her escalating moans. You feel her thighs trembling, clenching around your waist, desperately trying to pull you impossibly closer. Her hips rock into your touch, desperate for more, for that final, blissful push over the edge. Her breath comes in short, sharp gasps, tumbling from her kiss-swollen lips in a rapturous string of need and desire
"Yes, god yes..." she pants, her hand slipping up under your shirt as her head lolled to the side, nails raking over the skin of your back leaving stinging red lines that mark you as hers. "Mark me, I want to be yoursâplease baby"
You suck harder, teeth sinking into the soft swell of her throat as you feel her walls starting to flutter, clenching and rippling around your stroking fingers. Her climax is building rapidly, her body hovering on the precipice of blissful oblivion. You slip a third finger into her, stuffing her fuller, stretching her wider. Deeper. Just as she slams over the edge into rapture. Agatha moans loudly, her back arching clean off the couch as her orgasm crashes through her body like a tidal wave. Pleasure gushes from her spasming sex, dripping over your hand and down your palm. Her thighs clamp down around your waist, holding you in place as if afraid you'd pull away. As if she could stop the force of her climax from wracking her body.
You continue to pump your fingers, to stroke and press against that sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing out her pleasure, pulling it into a seemingly never-ending crescendo of ecstasy that leaves her a boneless, trembling, gasping mess in the aftermath. Slowing to a languid thrust before sliding your fingers from her sex, a shiver of satisfaction rolling through you as each inch of your fingers slips free from her grip. Holding her gaze with smoldering intensity, you raise your fingers to your mouth, your tongue darting out to lick them clean. Her arousal coats your taste buds - salty and sweet, the very essence of her desire that you've craved for so long.
You savor every drop, every trace of her pleasure, relishing the way her dark eyes widen and her lips part in a soft gasp as she watches you, their soft depths churning with emotion and lingering lust. Keeping her captive in your heated gaze, you lean forward to softly press your lips to the now tender skin of her neck, trailing a slow, reverent path downward.
You kiss along her collarbone , down the center of her sternum, until you reach the hem of her dress. Without hesitation, you push the fabric up bunching around her hips. A low, approving hum rumbles in your chest as you hook your fingers into the waistband of her ruined panties. With a deft tug, you peel the drenched fabric down her legs, pulling them off in a slow, sensual striptease until they pool around her ankles.
She lifts her hips eagerly, letting you incinerate the flimsy barrier, leaving her bare and exposed, open to your every desire. You toss the ruined panties away carelessly, your focus solely on the glistening, pink perfection of her sex, swollen and slick from her intense orgasm. Crawling closer you settled back between her thighs. You drape her legs over your shoulders, hands smooth up the sides of her thighs, kneading the tender flesh, as you press your lips to her dripping sex in a kiss that is pure possession, pure hunger.
You take your time savoring every inch , your tongue delving into her depths, lapping up the sweet climax gushing from her core. You make a meal of her, devouring her arousal like a woman starved, determined to taste every last drop of her pleasure on your lips. Your thumbs smooth out over her engorged folds, parting them to reveal the flushed and sensitive pearl of her clit, still peeking out from beneath its hood. You lean in and press a single, soft kiss to the tender bud, your lips then sealing around it with reverence and a promise of untold ecstasy.
You roll your tongue in a slow, sensual circle around Agatha's pulsing clit, showing her the depths of your hunger, the aching emptiness you carried within you in her absence. Your fingers dig into the tender flesh of her thighs, kneading and massaging, anchoring you to her body as if you feared she might disappear again. You lave at her sex with a fervor bordering on desperation, your tongue delving deeper between her folds, seeking out every drop of her essence. The taste of her arousal explodes on your tongue, sweet and heady, a flavor you never truly forgot no matter how hard you tried.
You groan against her flesh, the sound vibrating through her body just where you rested between her thighs "Ah!â" she cries out, head thrown back, fingers twisting in your hair âPlease, please don't stop..."
Her hips rocked against your tounge, grinding her dripping sex greedily against your face, smearing her arousal over your mouth and chin, marking you as irrevocably hers. You can feel the heat of her, the desperate ache of her body for your touch, for your love, for everything you swore you'd give her.
You grant her plea, your tongue stroking and suckling at her sensitive pearl with a relentless intensity. You slip two fingers back inside her dripping core, pumping them in a steady rhythm that matches the roll of your tongue. You finger her slow and deep, curling and stroking her fluttering walls, feeling them mold and shape to the contours of your fingers as if she was made to be filled by you and only you.
Your other hand reaches up to palm the full swell of her breast, kneading the soft mound of flesh, your thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling the stiff peak of her nipple through the fabric of her dress. You tease the hardened nub mercilessly, reveling in the sounds of her pleasure, the way her body trembles and quakes beneath your touch. You can feel her climbing again, teetering on the razor's edge of another explosive climax. Her thighs quiver and clench around your head roughly, a fresh gush of arousal flooding over your fingers.
"Fuck that's my girl" you murmur between licks, your words a low, sinful rasp against her flesh. "Let go for me, sweetheart" You suckle harder, fingers pumping faster, your touch growing more urgent, more demanding, spurred on by her escalating cries and moans. Determined to drive her over the edge of oblivion once more. To make her forget everything but the feel of you, the sheer overwhelming ecstasy only you can give her.
You slip your fingers from Agatha's fluttering hole, a shaky groan escaping you at the loss of her welcoming heat. But it's swiftly replaced by a surge of desire as you trailed your tongue over her sensitive flesh, tracing a searing path downwards until you reach the entrance of her dripping core. You don't hesitates. Spearing your tongue out, you plunge it deep inside her, penetrating her heated depths with single-minded intensity. You curled your tongue massaging the intimate terrain of her unapologetically.
"OHâ" she gasps loudly, back arching clean off the couch as a lightning bolt courses through her body. "Fuck, yes!" Her fingers slipping down to twist almost painfully tight in your hair as she rides your face with wild abandon, hips bucking, hunting, seeking more and harder of your electrifying touch. You give her everything she craves, your tongue stroking and plunging, curling and twisting, fucking into her velvet heat with an almost feral hunger. Your hands grasp at the curve of her backside, thumbs digging into the supple flesh, anchoring you to her body lest you lose yourself completely in the intensity of the moment.
Your eyes flutter open and clash with hers, locking in on the swirling maelstrom of lust and something far deeper burning in her gaze. You feel that connection that's always been there, that invisible tether that bound your souls, and you know with a bone-deep surety that she feels it too. That she can't deny it anymore than you can. You double down on your assault, sneaking a hand up to splay across her inner thigh. Your thumb finds her aching clit, circling the sensitive nub with a firm, relentless pressure that has her seeing stars. You stroke and tease the swollen flesh, feeling it throb against your touch, yearning for more.
At the same time, you plunge your tongue even deeper into her dripping sex, stroking along her velvety walls, tasting her essence, swallowing every drop of her arousal. Her cries echo off the walls, a symphony of pleasure and need as her body writhes against your touch. "Yes, yes, fuck yes!" she chants, her voice breaking on a strangled moan. "Don't stop, god never stopâ"
You can feel her climbing closer to the edge, her body tensing, her walls clenching around your slick muscle, gripping and suckling as if trying to pull you impossibly deeper. You press harder, stroke faster, driven by her pleasure and the primal need to push her over the edge into bliss "That's it baby," you rasp softly into her sensitive skin. "Come for me. I can feel how much you need it..."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she screams, back arching off the couch once more as her climax crashes over her. Her sex spasms wildly, gushing her release over your chin and onto the couch below. You lap it up greedily, swallowing every drop of her as she rides out the aftershocks of her orgasm on your face. You groan softly as you feel Agatha twitching and shuddering beneath you, her body still electrified from the force of her climax. Not wanting to waste a single drop of her sweet essence, you begin to lap at her swollen flesh with long, soft strokes of your tongue, licking up every remaining trace of her pleasure.
"Babyâit's...it's too much..." she whimpers, her voice ragged and breathless as aftershocks continue to roll through her. Despite her words, she still doesn't push you away, her hands staying tangled in your hair, holding you close. Her thighs clamped around your head, a symphony of sensitivity and lingering lust. Leisurely, you cleanse her flesh, worshipping every glistening inch, reveling in the taste of her satisfaction on your tongue. You can feel her heartbeat fluttering wildly against your lips and you're filled with a deep, primitive satisfaction knowing that you did this - that you brought her to such heights of ecstasy.
"That's it, princess..." you murmur against her sex, your words a low, rough rasp. "Let me take care of you. Let me worship this gorgeous body the way it deserves to be worshipped..." You walk your fingers up her trembling thigh before trailing them down the other, a teasing path that has her shivering and mewling softly, overstimulated.
"Tell me how much you need this" you breathe, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her sensitive flesh. "Tell me how much you need meââ
Your eyes flick up to gaze into hers, a heated, almost devouring look eating up the sight of her tousled hair and dazed, lust-hazed eyes. "Because I need you," you confess, raw and unflinching. "I need you, body and soul... Lost in the Feel of me. Of us."
You trail reverent kisses back up the soft skin of Agathaâs inner thigh, up her torso and stopping at the racing pulse at the base of her throat. Your lips linger there, pressing against her skin as you wrap your arms possessively around her, cradling her soft curves against your own "You can't tell me you don't need me just as much... " you murmur into her skin, your voice a low, intimate rumble that sends shivers cascading down her spine. "I can feel it. I can feel how your body responds to my touch, Just like mine for yours..."
You nuzzle into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her, a intoxicating mix of arousal and lavender, before placing a trail of kisses along her throat, Agatha melts into you like itâs second nature. Like her body remembers yours as well as her mind does. Sheâs warm under your hands, pliant against your arms, and when her fingers weakly tangle into the back of your shirt to keep you close, something in your chest aches.
You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads now pressed together, lips and bodies tingling from the heat of it. Her eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded and glassy, but thereâs clarity there tooâsomething raw and real. âI meant what I said earlier,â she murmurs breathlessly, though her voice husky and sincere. âI want to deserve you, Iâm not running again.â She reaches up to touch your face, brushing her thumb along your cheek like sheâs memorizing you all over again âIâm not leaving,â she says softly. âNot this time. Iâve done enough damage. I just want to stay with you.â
You study her for a long moment, heart pounding. Then, slowly, you nod, You peel yourself off of her with a sigh, reluctant to leave the warmth of her body even for a second. Agatha watches you rise, her eyes never leaving yours. You extend a hand toward her, fingers open, waiting.
She takes it immediately. You give her a small, crooked smileâthen, in one swift motion, you pull her up and into you, her body colliding with yours in a breathless gasp. Before she can react, your free arm wraps around her waist and you bend slightly, lifting her off the floor with practiced ease. She gives a soft laugh of surprise, clinging instinctively to your shoulders. Her legs wrap around your waist, and she holds on like she never wants to be put down again. You carry her to the bed without a word.
The room is quiet, the world small. Just the two of you and the low hum of the city outside the window. You lay her down carefully, easing her into the mattress like something precious. Her legs slip from your waist but stay curled near your hips, and her hands remain on your shoulders even as you pull back, just long enough to crawl in beside her. She shifts to face you immediately, one arm sliding around your back, pulling you in until youâre tucked against her chest. Like she canât stand the thought of distance, not even now.
You nuzzle into the crook of her neck, breathing her inâlavender and something deeper, richer clings faintly to her skin, electric and intimate, but thereâs something else too. Something grounding. You press a trail of soft, lazy kisses along her throat, lips grazing the curve of her pulse, you can see the bruises beginning to bloom on her delicate skin.
She shivers beneath you, but doesnât stop you. Her hand moves to the back of your head, fingers weaving gently through your hair, nails scraping your scalp softly âPlease tell me this wasnât a mistakeâŠâ you mutter into her skin, your voice small, unsureâmore vulnerable than you meant it to be.
Agatha exhales shakily. Her lips press to the crown of your head âIt wasnât,â she whispers. âIt isnât.â
You feel her arm tighten around you âThis is the first thing thatâs felt right in a very long time.â You nod against her, your eyes slipping shut as your breathing slows. And in the quiet hum of the room, wrapped in her arms and her warmth and her steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, you finally let yourself believe it. Youâre not alone anymore. Sheâs here. Sheâs yours. And this time, sheâs not going anywhere.
You donât remember falling asleep. One moment you were tangled around each other in the dark, your breath warm against her skin, her heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. The next, the world is quiet and golden, and her fingers are still loosely curled in the fabric of your shirt. Morning finds you before the rest of the world wakes.
The room is dim and still, wrapped in soft gray light filtering through the curtains. The city beyond the glass is muffled, its usual chaos held at bay for just a little while longer. Youâre lying on your side, one leg draped over hers, your nose tucked just beneath her jaw. She hasnât moved. And God, you forgot. You forgot how beautiful she is like this.
Unguarded.
Peaceful.
Her brow is relaxed, mouth slightly parted, one hand resting limply against your chest. A few strands of dark hair have fallen across her cheek, and your breath catches when you realize just how much she looks like the woman you once fell in love withâthe one you never really stopped loving.
Your gaze traces the soft curve of her lips, the delicate lines at the corners of her eyes that werenât there six years ago. Thereâs more silver in her hair now, a faint line near her temple. You ache at how time has marked her gently, carefully, like the world couldnât bear to touch her too harshly.
She shifts slightly in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and pulls you closer in reflexâher hand finding the small of your back and keeping it there like she needs the contact to breathe. You let yourself smile.
Your heart swells with something quiet and impossible to name. Not just loveâsomething older. Wiser. A knowing. A promise. You lean forward and kiss her foreheadâsoft, reverent. Then the slope of her cheek. Then the corner of her mouth.
She stirs at that, brow furrowing faintly before her eyes flutter open, groggy and slow to adjust. Her voice is a low whisper, still wrapped in sleep. âYouâre staring.â
You grin âCan you blame me?â
She blinks at you, confused and drowsy. âWhat time is it?â
You stay like that for a while, just watching her. Letting the morning wrap around the two of you like something sacred. Her thumb traces absent patterns on your side, and your fingers drift up to brush a piece of hair from her face.
âYouâre even more beautiful than I remembered,â you say quietly, almost like a secret.
She goes still for a beat. Then her lips curveânot into a smirk, not into something smug, but something soft. Something stunned and tender and wholly undone.
âYou always were a terrible liar,â she murmurs.
âGood thing Iâm not lying.â She doesnât argue. Instead, she cups your jaw with her hand and pulls you in, kissing you gentlyâslow and deep, like the night before didnât answer everything. Like this is a continuation. A reminder. That sheâs here, That you are too. And that, somehow, you found your way back to each other after all these years.
I know youâre here anyway and thereâs not much I can do. But know that the world would be a much better and brighter place if you werenât ruining it with your presence.
Warnings: Fluff, Misinformation // Misunderstanding, Angst, Comfort, Kissing, Reassurance, Sub Agatha, Dom Reader, Graphic Descriptions Of Sex, Teasing, Cunnlings, Obsessive reader, Daddy kink, Overstimulation, Praise, Soft Agatha.
Word count: 9.7k
A/N: yet another AMAZING inbox ask that it wonât let me post for what reason Iâm not sure why, this one technically came in before the other two but I got super invested in those and absentmindedly pushed this one to the back burner. Highlights of the request were Agatha x Celebrity Reader, Reassurance in their relationship from reader & make up sex with Agatha as the sub & the reader as the Dom. Whatever anonymous person that requested this. I truly hope you enjoy it & Iâm sorry for the wait :)))ïżŒ
Summery: Meeting Agatha Harkness has in no little way changed your life and honestly for the better, but when a publicity stunt gone wrong at a premiere event threatens the very stability of your relationship. Are you truly willing to do whatever it takes to get her back?
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You werenât supposed to be in that club. Not really. Not with the red-eye flight you had just taken to get into the city, the press junket scheduled at dawn, and the endless stretch of interviews that had already burned through most of your energy. You were supposed to be asleep. Hydrating. Resting your voice.
But your manager had practically begged you. âItâll be good for optics,â they said. âThe fans love seeing you out. One hour tops. Smile for the cameras, sip a drink, then weâre out.â So you went. Reluctantly. Tired. Smiling through it anyway, makeup still fresh, a tailored black outfit hugging your frame just enough to be fashionably effortless. You looked the part. You played the part.
And thatâs when you saw her. She didnât belong in that lounge any more than you did. Not because she looked out of placeâif anything, her calm intensity made the whole room shift around her, like gravity had a personal bias. While laughter echoed and glasses clinked under dim lighting, she stood grounded in a charcoal blazer thrown over a loose gray tee, half-tucked into worn jeans and a pair of scuffed heeled boots that had definitely seen more practical use than aesthetic. Effortless. Unbothered. Like the night couldnât touch her.
Her hair was loose, undone in a way that suggested she hadnât meant to stay long. Like sheâd come out of obligation and ended up staying out of curiosity. Which, as it turned out, was exactly the case.
Her friendâpoised in a mauve trench that looked more like armor than outerwear. Sharp gold hoops framed her face, each accessory chosen with precision. She didnât smileâshe assessed, as if the entire room had walked into her domain instead. They stood close together linked at the arm, as if she was scared blue eyes may runâŠ.you didnât know either of their names yet, but it was clear one of them belonged to the room, the otherâŠdidnât.
You would later learn that this was her first night without her son in months. Nicholas had just been dropped off with her ex-wife in the city, with her mother stepping in to help during the summer handoff. A rare, delicate arrangement that left her with a few unstructured hours for the first time in ages. Her old friend, Jennifer you later discovered , had insisted she had to go out. âYouâre free for the night, Aggie. Come on. This place is impossible to get intoâyouâll love it. Or at least hate it with a good drink in your hand.â
She had relented, half-tempted by the promise of decent scotch and half-worn down by the weight of parenting solo. You didnât know any of that yet, though. Not then. All you knew was that when your laugh carried over the musicâdry and tired, but still practicedâand your gaze swept across the sea of bodies and strobes, you locked eyes with her. And the noise just⊠faded.
She stood still, drink untouched in her hand, Jennifer talking animatedly beside her. But her? She was staring right at you, and something in your chest shifted. âIs thatâŠ?â Jennifer asked, leaning in.
âNo,â Agatha muttered, narrowing her eyes like she could will it to be false. âIt canât be.â But it was. You crossed the room before you realized you were moving. The bar was crowded, too many elbows and expensive perfumes, but you found a pocket of space beside herâand the tension in your shoulders, the weight of being watched, lifted for the first time all night.
âNot a fan of the scene either?â you asked, your voice pitched just loud enough to cut through the music. She glanced at you. Her eyesâgray-blue and sharper than you expectedâslid from your face to your drink, then back to your face.
âPlease,â she said dryly, turning slightly toward you. âI teach undergrads Shakespeare and cultural theory in a town where the most exciting thing is a late-night donut shop. This?â She nodded to the flashing lights, the girls screaming in the booth behind you. âThis is hell.â
You laughed. Not a polite smile. Not a PR-mandated chuckle. A real laugh. Full and free. And she smiled. God, she smiled. Not the kind that came from being entertained, but the kind that bloomed from being seen.
She tilted her head at the sound of your laugh, like she was trying to memorize it. The music shifted into something slower, smoother, and the lights dimmed a touchâbut she didnât look away.
âIâm Agatha,â she said after a beat, voice warm with a hint of something unreadable. âAgatha Harkness.â
You blinked. It wasnât surprise, not really. Maybe awe. Still, you extended your hand with a soft smile âNice to meet you,â you said smoothly, letting your fingers wrap around hers with an easy confidence. âIâmââ
âI know,â she murmured, leaning in just slightly, her fingers lingering. âTrust me. I know.â
You smiled, caught somewhere between flattered and amused. âGuess Iâm not as subtle as I thought.â
Her lips curved, that same knowing tilt. âNot even a little. But I like that.â
You didnât let go. Neither did she. The rest of the room fadedâmusic, lights, chatter. For a moment, there was only the quiet electricity between your hands, the shimmer of something about to begin.
One drink turned to two, then three. Her friend eventually wandered off to flirt with someone near the DJ booth, leaving the two of you at the bar like the rest of the world had been placed on mute. You talked about your livesâwell, parts of them. She told you about Nicholas, how he was obsessed with dinosaurs and learning to read in both English and Spanish.
You told her about your ridiculous travel schedule and the chaos of press tours. She shared small, vulnerable pieces of herself, like how she missed New York but couldnât imagine raising her son anywhere but Westview. You admitted that sometimes you felt like a fraud, like your life was made of paper, held up by duct tape and good lighting. She didnât pity you for it. She just nodded. Like she understood. Neither of you wanted the night to end.
So when you stepped out into the cool night air, the heavy doors of the club closing behind you, you lingered together on the sidewalk. The city buzzed around youâcars honking, heels tapping, laughter echoing down alleysâbut none of it felt real. Not compared to the woman standing in front of you with her hands in her pockets and her head tilted like she was trying to memorize you.
You hesitated. For a moment. Then she leaned in. It wasnât dramatic. It wasnât staged. It wasnât perfect. It was slow, unassuming, quiet. But it was real. You kissed her. And in that one, soft moment under flickering neon, you felt the beginning of everything that would come after.
Almost two years later, the two of you had become a very public, very envied pairâthough never by design. It just happened. It started with a blurry photo someone snapped of you and Agatha walking through a bookstore in Montclair, Nicholas perched on her hip, a juice box in one hand and a T-Rex toy in the other. You werenât touching, not physically. But she was looking at you like youâd hung the moon, and you were smiling like sheâd taught you how to breathe again. It went viral in hours.
After that, there were interviews of you talking about them. Articles. Long-lensed paparazzi shots of you holding Nicholasâ hand at a pumpkin patch in Westview, crouched beside him as he marveled at the âweird, bumpy pumpkinsâ and Agatha stood behind you, arms crossed, eyes soft, like she still couldnât believe you were real.
Your life split into two hemispheres. One in Los Angelesâfast, hot, ever-moving. The other in Westviewâquiet, steady, warm in a way no sun-drenched mansion had ever been. You flitted between them like a moth trying to memorize two different flames. Somehow, she let you. Somehow, she trusted you. You were careful. Always careful but never ashamed.
Agatha came to your premieres when she could, though she loathed the spectacle. She endured red carpets with wry smiles and slightly-too-tight hands on your waist. The flash of cameras never sat right with her, but she bore it, especially when Nicholas got to sit backstage in a too-big blazer and call you âcooler than Spider-Man.â
When she needed space, you gave it freely. When she craved privacy, you built her a bubble. When she asked for nothing, you brought her everything anyway. And then came that red carpet.
Your latest film was about to release. It was a romantic dramaâyour first in a few years, and the studio was banking on your chemistry with your male co-star to bring in numbers. PR was relentless. They wanted tension. Whispers. Viral moments. Your co-star, charming and far too comfortable with your proximity, leaned into it with every chance he got.
You laughed off his touches in interviews. Dodged the lingering hands on your back. You told yourself it was part of the job. Part of the deal. Much to your dismay, he didnât get the memo. That night, the carpet was a blur of noise and heat. Fans screamed your name. Cameras flashed like lightning. Your cheeks ached from smiling. You were almost at the end of the press line when it happened.
You were facing the crowd, answering a question from a reporter, when you felt his hand on your waist. Too familiar. Too close. And thenâhe pulled you in. Full. Mouth-on-mouth. It wasnât a peck. It wasnât a joke. It was long. Purposeful. The crowd exploded with camera flashes and gasps and eager shrieks. You froze.
Not because you wanted itâbut because your brain blanked. You felt yourself split in twoâone version of you standing there in panic, the other screaming inside your head that this couldnât be happening.
By the time you managed to step back, the damage was done. You recoiled like heâd burned you, eyes wide, heart pounding. He just grinned, smooth and oblivious, like it was all part of the script.
You didnât remember much after that. You kept smiling, kept walking, kept your hands tightly at your sides for the rest of the night. You sat through the screening, said the right things, played your part. All while nausea curled in your gut and your heart beat a hollow rhythm of what have I done. By the time you got back to the hotel, the headlines had already hit
âChemistry Off-Screen? Sparks Fly Between Co-Stars at LA Premiere.â
âFind Out Where The Loving Partner Was During The Reveal Of These Photos.â
âActressâ Publicist Dodges Questions About Love Life.â
And the photosâGod, the photos. One of his hands on your cheek. Your lips pressed together. A single frame, frozen forever, that told a lie loud enough to drown out the truth.
You called Agatha first thing the next morning. Once. Then again. Then every hour. No answer. No read receipts. No voicemail. Just endless rings and silence. And thatâs when you knew. Sheâd already seen it. All of it. The kiss. The headlines. The Twitter threads with their millions of snide remarks about your ânaturalâ chemistry. Your fans split down the middleâhalf defending you, the other half dissecting your life like it was a game. You didnât even get the chance to explain, she didnât let you. She just⊠vanished. Quietly. Completely.
Forty-eight hours later, you couldnât take it anymore. You were supposed to be on a plane to New York for the next stop on the press tour. Instead, you grabbed the first ticket to New Jersey. You left behind your publicistâs frantic texts, the media circus, the carefully mapped-out schedule. You packed one bag, called a car, and went straight to Westview. Straight to her.
You didnât even stop for breath until you were standing in front of the houseâthe one youâd painted together last spring, the one where Nicholas had drawn chalk monsters all over the driveway last Halloween, the one with the rosemary bush Agatha planted in the garden âfor cooking, not for witchcraft,â sheâd joked. You didnât knock.
The key still worked, that scared you more than anything else. You stepped inside quietly, your suitcase left by the door. The house smelled like chamomile and coffeeâfamiliar, sharp, hers. The air was heavier than you remembered. Like something had cracked open and hadnât been closed since.
The living room was dim. Morning light streamed through sheer curtains, painting long shadows across the floor. And there she was. Sitting on the couch, barefoot, one leg curled beneath her.
A mug of coffee clutched tightly in both hands, her eyes trained on the TVâbut not watching. Her hair was unbrushed, face pale, lips tight. She looked like she hadnât slept. Like the coffee had been reheated twice already. Like sheâd been holding something back so hard, it was about to slip through her fingers.
When she saw you, she didnât flinch. She didnât cry. She didnât soften. Her eyes sharpened like flint catching fire. And then she spoke, her voice low, hoarse, and shaking âWhat the fuck are you doing here?â
You flinched like sheâd struck you. âAgathaââ
âNo.â Her voice cut through the quiet like a blade. âNo. You donât get to say my name.â
She stood so abruptly that the coffee mug in her hands tilted, dark liquid spilling over the rim and splashing onto the hardwood. It pooled at her feet, forgotten. âYou donât get to walk in here with that face,â she hissed, her eyes blazing, âand pretend nothing happened.â
âIâm not pretendingââ
âYou let him kiss you.â Her voice was louder now, but still shaking, still ragged around the edges. âYou let the world think youâre with him. That we were a lie. That Iâm just some woman in a quiet town you play house with when the cameras arenât looking.â
âThatâs not what it was,â you said quickly, your voice faltering, your throat closing around the words. âIt wasnât like that.â
Her nostrils flared. âDo you know what Nicholas asked me the next morning?â Your heart thudded in your chest, already knowing it was going to hurt
âHe looked at me,â she continued, voice cracking now, âwith that little confused look he gets when heâs trying to piece things together. And he asked, âIs she still with us too?ââ Your legs nearly gave out.
Your breath stuttered. âAgathaâGod, noâI didnât kiss him backââ
âBut you didnât stop it either,â she snapped. âYou stood there. You let it happen. You let them take pictures. You let them write the story. And you didnât even try to fix it.â
âI froze!â Your voice rose, not in anger, but desperation. âAgatha, I was shockedâI didnât know what to do. It wasnât planned, it wasnât wantedâhe just did it. And I panicked.â
She was shaking now, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she was holding herself together by force. âI donât care.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âI donât care,â she repeated coldly. âItâs always going to be something, isnât it? A scene. A photo. A co-star who doesnât respect boundaries. A media storm I have to shield my son from.â Her eyes, wet and furious, locked onto yours. âI canât do this. We canât do this.â
âAgatha baby come onââ
âI will not subject myself, or my son, to being public punching bags. Not again. Not because someone couldnât say no when the lights were on and the cameras were rolling.â The last line came out as a whisper, but it struck like thunder.
You stood there in stunned silence, hands slightly raised like you could still reach her. Still fix it. But she was already backing away, her body trembling. âGet out.â
âAgatha, please.â
âLeave.â
One step. You crossed the living room without even thinking, one hand reaching toward her, your voice barely more than breath âNo.â
âLeave.â She snarled it this time, her voice raw, almost unrecognizable.
âNo,â you whispered again, firmer this time. You kept moving until the space between you evaporated and she found herself pressed gently, but completely, against the living room wall Her breath caught. Her shoulders hit the wall behind her. But she didnât push you away.
âYou donât get to walk away, and you for damn sure cannot make me leaveââ you said, your tone trembling with pain. âNot without hearing me. Not without understanding what this life means to me without you in it.â
She opened her mouth, but the words never came âIf you want me to quit,â you said, and your voice cracked for the first time, âIâll quit.â Her eyes flickered. âIâll walk away from all of it. The premieres. The roles. The spotlight. The money. The name.â You took a breath, eyes locked on hers. âNone of it means anything if Iâm not coming home to you and Nicky.â
And for the first time since you stepped into the house, she went still. Not tense. Not angry. Just still. Like she hadnât expected that. Like the idea of being chosenânot just defended, not just loved, but chosen over everything elseâwas too foreign to process all at once. Her chest rose and fell, shallow and fast. Her eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain.
You stood there, steady, waiting. The words hung between you like a live wire, pulsing, dangerous, honest. You didnât take them back. You meant every single one. She stared at you like youâd just said the sky was falling. Like the world had tilted on its axis and no one had warned her.
âYou donât really mean that,â she whispered, barely audible. Her lips parted like the words had fought their way out of her. But you did. Fuck, you did. You leaned in slowly, placing your hands on either side of her against the wall, caging her inânot to trap her, but to ground her. To let her feel how real this was. How solid you were. How immovable your love had become.
âI do,â you said softly, steadily. âEvery word.â Her hands pushed at your chest, trembling, half-hearted. Not to hurt. Not even to distance. It was more instinct than desireâlike her mind was fighting something her heart had already lost to. But you didnât move.
You stayed still.
Patient.
Present.
Then you reached up gently, cradling her cheeks with both hands, your thumbs brushing the faintest trace of salt beneath her lashes. Her eyes flickered like a storm was about to break. âLook at me,â you whispered. She tried to glance away. You wouldnât let her. âReally look at me, Agatha.â And when she didâwhen her eyes finally locked with yours, full of disbelief and barely-concealed acheâyou said it, tender and unwavering.
âAll I want is you.â You kissed her, not forcefully. Not desperately. But deeply. Like the words youâd said were still echoing off your lips, and you needed her to feel them for herself.
For the first time in days, she relented. Her body leaned into yours, slow at firstâtentative. Her lips moved against yours like she didnât know whether to trust the moment or collapse into it. But she didnât stop. She kissed you like she wanted to believe you. Like she needed to. But it didnât last.
After only a few seconds, she pulled away, breath shuddering, eyes wide and glassy. Her chest rose and fell with the effort of holding back too many things at once. Her gaze dropped from your mouth to your collarbone, like it was too hard to keep meeting your eyes. âDonât,â she warned, voice low. âDonât make promises you wonât keep.â
âIâm not,â you said gently, still holding her face in your hands, your thumbs continuing to trace the soft curve of her cheekbones. âIâve never been more sure of anything in my life.â
She scoffed, but there was no real fire in it. Her expression twisted into something cynical and wounded. âYouâre an actress,â she murmured, bitter and tired. âYou know how to say the right thing.â
You gave her a sad, crooked smile. âI do. Iâve built an entire career on it.â She raised her brows like exactly âBut Iâve never had to work this hard,â you went on, voice quiet, almost reverent, âto mean it.â That stopped her. The scoff faded. Her mouth closed. Her shoulders dropped just slightlyâlike something in her was coming undone, too slowly to stop.
Your gaze searched her faceâevery sharp line, every softened edge, every thread of exhaustion that told you she hadnât been sleeping. You memorized the faint crease between her brows, the little tremor in her lower lip. She was unraveling, but still clinging to whatever was left of the wall sheâd built.
âIâm not leaving this house,â you said, firmer now. âSo you can be mad. You can yell. You can curse me out until you lose your voice, and Iâll take every bit of it if thatâs what you need.â Her eyes blinked hard, like something burned. âYou can make me sleep on the porch. You can banish me to the guest room for a month. Hell, you can make me write apology letters to every damn pumpkin in that patch if it helps.â
That earned the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Almost a smile. Almost. âBut Iâm not walking away. Iâm not letting you go.â Her breath hitchedâjust once. A tremor in her chest. You softened then, lowering your voice like it was just the two of you in the world. Like it always had been. âI donât need premieres,â you whispered. âI donât need flashing cameras or studio deals or PR tours.â Your hands slid from her cheeks to her shoulders, holding her steady but gently. âI donât need to be anything to anyone but yours.â
âStop it,â she breathed, but her voice cracked straight down the center. It was the kind of break you couldnât fake. A quiet plea wrapped in too many old scars. You didnât stop. You leaned in again, this time with your forehead resting against hers. You felt her breath, shaky and uneven, brushing your lips. Her hands still hovered between you, like she didnât know whether to hold on or push away.
âI just need you, baby,â you murmured, your words barely air now. âYou and that brilliant, stubborn son of yours.â You reached down, one hand finding hers and weaving your fingers through hers even as she resisted, even as she shook. âThatâs it. Thatâs everything.â
She was trembling now. âEverything else?â you whispered. âIt can all burn to the fucking ground for all I care.â Agatha shuddered. Her hand closed around yours. âIâd give it all up,â you said again, slower, softer, like a vow pressed against her skin. âFor real. No hesitation.â Her knees gave just slightly and stillâyou held on.
Her hands twitch at your sides like sheâs caught in a war between holding on and pushing away. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your coat, then release it, over and over like she canât decide if sheâs allowed to need you like this anymore. Her back is still pressed to the wall, body frozen, but she hasnât told you to leave. Hasnât looked away âI didnât expect you to come,â she murmurs after a long, trembling pause. Her voice is barely audible, as though the admission costs her something. âNot after everything. Not after that headlineâŠâ
You donât speak. You lean in insteadâslowly, tenderlyâand kiss her again. Not out of lust. Not yet. This kiss is an anchor. A tether. A desperate press of lips meant to keep her from drifting too far away. Your forehead rests against hers as you exhale, your breath warm against her mouth. âI saw the headline,â you whisper, voice low and steady. âAnd I booked a flight. Thatâs all there was. Thatâs all it took.â
She swallows thickly, her chin trembling.âOne lie,â you continue, brushing your nose against hers, âand I ran straight to the only truth I have left.â Sheâs shaking nowâvisibly. Her shoulders shake as her hands finally stop fidgeting and clutch at your shirt, fingers digging into the fabric like sheâs bracing for impact.
Your hand lifts, sliding gently through her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ear. The familiar motion makes her eyes flutter shut. Itâs something youâve always done when sheâs unravelingâwhen sheâs soft and fraying around the edges. âYou think I wouldnât choose you?â you murmur. âThat Iâd ever put someone elseâanyone elseâbefore you?â Your thumb strokes the curve of her jaw. âAgatha, youâve already got all of me.â
Thatâs when it happensâsomething in her face shifts. Breaks. Her expression crumples, and she lets out a soft, wounded sound like sheâs been trying to hold it in for days and just⊠canât anymore. Then suddenly, her arms shoot up, wrap tight around your shoulders, and sheâs pulling you into her like sheâs drowning. Her mouth crashes into yours and this kissâthis kissâis a reckoning.
Itâs furious. Itâs starved. Itâs full of so much longing and frustration and tangled grief that it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. Her hands fist in your shirt, dragging you closer, as though proximity is the only language she can speak right now. Her nails scrape down your back and up again, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark.
You gasp against her, and she swallows it, deepening the kiss like sheâs trying to replace every image of that red carpet with thisâyou, here, in her arms, choosing her. Your hands move on instinct. One cups the back of her neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. The other slides around her waist, gripping her tight, grounding her, steadying the both of you.
She melts and clings all at once, her whole body arching toward yours with a desperation that rattles your bones. Her kiss is breathless and trembling and realâlike sheâs pouring every ounce of pain and hope and fear into you. Like sheâs trying to burn the distance right out of your skin.
You meet her with equal fire, kissing her back with everything you have, everything you are. You press her tighter to the wallânot to dominate, but to devote. To show her, through every stroke of your lips and every whispered breath, that thereâs no space left in your world that doesnât belong to her. You whisper it between kisses, voice ragged and reverent: âI love you.â
Another kiss. âI love you.â Another slower this time, deeper. You linger at the corner of her mouth, your lips brushing the soft curve of her cheek. âIm so in love with you.â You feel her inhale sharply like your words cracked her open. She gaspsâhigh and brokenâand something inside her gives. She breaks again. But not with anger. Not with bitterness. With need. Raw. Unfiltered. Terrifying in its intensity.
Her hands slide up into your hair, gripping at the back of your head as she kisses you again, more urgent, more heated now. Her teeth scrape your lower lip, and your breath catches in response. You feel her chest pressed flush against yours, the beat of her heart thudding wildly under your palm. She kisses you like sheâs terrified this might be the last time.
Like she never expected someone like you to stay. To choose her, over the world. Over the cameras. Over everything. But here you are. In a quiet house in Westview, pressed against her like a lifeline, choosing her all over again. You taste salt, Sheâs crying.
You pull her in even closer, holding her like youâll never let her go. You kiss the tears from her cheeks, from the corner of her mouth, from the soft edge of her jaw. You donât stop whispering her nameâbetween breaths, between kisses, between the desperate tug of her hands keeping you tethered to her. âIâm not going anywhere,â you breathe. âNot now. Not ever.â
You feel her nodâbarely. Just the smallest tilt of her head against yours. But itâs enough. Thisâher, this house, this quiet chaos of tangled limbs and too many feelingsâis everything you want. And this time⊠she believes you. But more than thatâShe feels it.
You lean in to kiss her againâthis time just under her jaw, where her pulse flutters faintly beneath her skin. And thenâwithout a wordâyou tighten your grip at her hips, lifting her easily. She gasps softly in surprise, her hands flying to your shoulders for balance as your body fits naturally between her thighs. âWrap your legs around me,â you say, quiet but certain.
She hesitates only a second before doing exactly that, her ankles locking at the base of your spine, her arms tightening their hold on your neck. You hold her close, one hand cradling the back of her thigh, the other supporting her lower back. She tucks herself into you without resistance now, her face buried against your shoulder, her breath warm at your throat and you walk.
You carry her through the house, her body molding perfectly to yours as if gravity itself bowed to the intimate weight of your shared presence. She clings to you, fingers curling into your shirt, silent tears still dampening the skin of your throat. But she doesn't speak. She doesn't need to. Her silence is more eloquent than any words could ever be, speaking volumes of trust and surrender, of love given and received.
You ascend the creaky stairs slowly, each step bringing you closer to the sanctuary of your shared bedroom. The old floorboards groan beneath your feet, bearing witness to the quiet devotion of your journey. You can feel her heart beating in tandem with yours, a single rhythm that echoes like a sacred mantra: here, here, here.
Crossing the threshold into your room, you kick the door shut softly behind you before carrying her to the bed. You sit, settling her astride your lap, your hands still cradling her hips and back, holding her close. She lifts her head to meet your gaze, eyes glistening and red-rimmed but still so achingly beautiful.
You brush a lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear and letting your fingers linger against her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere," you say again, voice low and fervent in the stillness of the room. "Not now. Not ever."
She holds your gaze for a long moment, searching, seeing. What she finds there makes something shift in the depths of her eyes. A flicker of belief. A spark of faith. She leans into your touch, nuzzling her cheek against your palm, and closes her eyes. "I believe you," she whispers, voice choked with emotion. "I feel it."
You let out a shaky breath, a shuddering expulsion of relief and soaring hope. You pull her flush against your chest, until she's encased completely in your embrace, until not an inch of space remains between your beating hearts. She comes willingly, melting into you, molding to you like you were made to hold her and only her. Leaning in, you capture her lips in a deep, searing kissâa kiss that tastes of forever and always and every promise you've ever made and will make again. She kisses you back just as fiercely, just as desperately, pouring all her faith and belief and love into the press of her lips against yours.
When you finally break the kiss, both of you are breathing heavily, chests heaving in sync. You keep your arms wrapped tightly around her waist, unwilling to let even a sliver of cool air or space divide you. She hums softly, fingers playing idly with the hair at your nape "Thank you," she whispers against your lips, eyes shining with unshed tears and a fleeting but fierce smile. "For coming backâ"
And then, without another word, she leans in and kisses you again. It's soft. Slow. Deep. A kiss that speaks more than words ever could. A kiss that holds the promise of a thousand tomorrows and a love that will last a lifetime. A love that you will spend every day proving to her, until she never doubts it again. You tighten your grip on Agathaâs hips, laying back to swiftly roll the both of you over so that she's pinned beneath you, your body hovering above hers, caging her in with your arms.
She gasps softly, eyes widening as they meet yours, pupils blown wide with desire and a flicker of trepidation "Let me show you just how much I want you, baby," you rasp, voice husky and low as you lean down, breath hot against the racing pulse at her throat. "Please..."
You suckle the tender flesh, teeth grazing her skin before you press a searing trail of kisses up the column of her neck. Each press of your lips is deliberate, purposeful - a brand of possession and devotion. Your hands map the curves of her body, fingers digging into the give of her hips as you settle your weight on top of her. "Fuck, I want you so much," you hummed against her throat, tongue laving the hollow of her collarbone. "I want to worship this beautiful body, every dip and curve and fucking perfect inch..."
One hand drifts down to palm her breast, thumb circling the stiff peak of her nipple through the thin barrier of her shirt. The other slides up her thigh, calloused fingers skimming over the fabric until they brush against her core. She's already wet, arousal dripping down to seep through her bottoms "I can feel how much you want this sweetheart" you breathe against her ear, slipping a hand past the waistband of her yoga pants, pressing two fingers against her clothed core. You pressed the fabric of her underwear between her slick folds "So fucking soaked for me already..." you hummed rubbing in slow teasing circles.
You slip your fingers between the ruined fabric caressing her sensitive folds, stroking them slowly, torturously. Your other hand pushes up beneath her shirt, finding the warm swells of her breasts, kneading the pliant flesh greedily. You capture her mouth in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, your tongue invading, claiming, conquering. You slowly slipped two fingers inside of her, swallowing her wrecked moans, the erotic sound vibrating against your lips as your fingers plunge deeper.
You curl your fingers just so inside her, using your thumb to massage that sensitive bundle of nerves that makes her walls flutter and clench around the invading digits. "That's it, baby," you coo encouragingly, feeling her arousal coat your fingers as you pump them at a steady, relentless pace. "Gotta make sure this hungry little cunt is nice and ready for daddy's cock. Don't you want that sweetheart? Don't you want to feel every fucking inch stretching you open?"
Agatha whimpers loudly at your filthy words, her back arching off the bed as she grinds down against your hand. "Y-yes..." she gasps, eyes hazy and unfocused with lust. "Please...I want it. I need it. I need you so badly..." You feel her starting to tighten, walls beginning to ripple and squeeze your fingers harder.
Chuckling softly, you slip your fingers out of her clenching cunt. Pushing the hem of her shirt up further, you trailed her slick arousal up her quivering stomach. Leaning down, you lap at the glistening trail, moaning at the erotic taste of her essence on your tongue. "Fuck you taste divine," you rasp, gaze flicking up to meet hers as you continue to clean her skin with kitten licks and nibbling kisses. "Absolutely delicious. I could eat this pretty pussy for hours."
You slip lower, hooking your fingers into the waistband of her pants and underwear tugging them down her thighs before tossing them aside. You settled back between her spread thighs. The scent of her arousal is heady and intoxicating, stoking the flames of your own desire. You inhale deeply before dragging your tongue through her dripping folds, pausing to suckle at her swollen clit before delving back in, fucking your tongue deep into her fluttering channel "D-daddy!" Agatha cries out, fingers tangling in your hair, nails digging into your scalp as you devour her. "Oh god, yes! Fuck, just like that!" Her hips buck wildly, grinding her cunt against your face, riding your tongue like she needs it to breathe.
Your tongue fucks into Agatha's dripping neediness, massaging her clenching hole with ruthless intensity. Her legs tremble and quake above you as your arms grip and hold her thighs, fingers sinking into the tender flesh hard enough to leave indents. She's locked you in with her legs slung over your shoulders, hands gripping your hair like her life depends on it.
"Fuck, don't stopâ" Her broken cries grow louder, more desperate, as you spear your tongue in and out of her with long, drugging strokes, curling it against that spongy bundle of nerves that makes her see stars every time. Your chin glistens with her essence, a testament to your thorough debasement of her cunt.
You seal your mouth over her clit, suckling hard, tongue flicking relentlessly over the swollen nub as fingers slipped knuckle-deep into her sodden, squelching cunt. The filthy, obscene sounds of her pleasure fill the room - the slick glide of flesh on flesh, the wails and keens of ecstasy that tear from her throat and shatter around you. Her scent is intoxicating, drowning you in the heady musk of her need and desire.
You double your efforts, spurred on by her desperate cries and the desperate spasming of her sex around your fingers. Two digits pump at a brutal pace, curling mercilessly against that sensitive spot inside, stoking the fire burning higher with every pass. Your tongue never lets up its relentless assault on her clit, flicking and suckling until it's throbbing and swollen and screaming for release. "That's it, baby. Fucking soak my face," you growl against her flesh before diving back in, lapping and suckling like a starving man at a feast. "Cum for me sweetheart, please. I want to taste it. I want to fucking drown in it."
Your other hand slides down to join its partner, fingers mercilessly plunging into her slick channel as your thumb finds her puckered back entrance. Pressing in softly , you work a finger past the stubborn ring of muscle, curling it to press against the thin wall separating her most intimate parts. The dual stimulation proves to be too much for your lover. With a ragged scream of your name, her release crashes over her, back bowing, body stiffening as ecstasy sears through every nerve ending. Her cunt clamps down viciously around your fingers, rippling, squeezing, trying to suck you impossibly deeper as her pleasure peaks.
Humming in triumph, you continue your relentless ministrations, fingers pumping through her climax, drawing out every last shudder and aftershock. Tongue lapping and suckling greedily at her gushing release, swallowing down every drop before diving back in for more. You don't stop until she goes boneless, collapsing back against the bed, chest heaving, thighs trembling weakly against your ears. Only then do you slow your movements, fingers gliding gently in the slick channel as your tongue soothes with kitten licks over her sensitized flesh.
"Mm, good girl," you praise huskily, gaze flickering up her lavish body to meet her dazed, lust-drunk eyes. "So fucking perfect. Daddy's so proud of you." Pulling back with a last, parting kiss to her dripping slit, you crawl up her quivering form until you're hovering above her, capturing her face between your hands. "You're ready now, sweetheart," you breathe against her kiss-swollen lips, warm and close. "Daddy's going to fuck you now. Gonna fill this greedy little cunt right up. Think you can take it, baby? Think you can handle Daddy's cock splitting you open?" You cooed softly.
You press a tender kiss to Agatha's forehead, feeling her melt into the gentle touch as her hips undulate needily beneath you. "Please Daddy, want your cock so bad..." she slurs breathlessly, mind hazy with lust and desperation. Her eyes are glazed and unfocused, hazel irises belying the depth of her arousal. You force yourself to pull away, watching as her chest heaves with each ragged intake of breath. Your heart clenches at the sight - this magnificent woman, so powerful and capable in all aspects of her life, laid bare before you. She's magnificent in her vulnerability, gorgeous in her need.
You slip from the bed, making quick work of divesting yourself of your clothing and rummaging in the top dresser drawer for your strap-on. Within moments, you have the harness secured snug against your hips, the thick cock protruding obscenely from your waist. Her eyes widen and a shudder wracks her body as you walk back towards the bed.
"You ready baby?" you ask huskily, stroking the length with a fist, you crawl in beside her, hovering over her spent form as your fingers dance across her quivering stomach before sliding down to stroke through the dripping folds of her pussy. Your thumb finds her swollen clit, strumming the sensitive bud with a gentle pressure.
Her reaction is immediate, back bowing off the bed as she lets out a strangled mewl "Daddy..." she whimpers desperately between breathy pants and stuttering moans. "Nnngh...p-please..." She's incoherent with need, trembling and writhing beneath your touch.
Tossing her one of her shaky legs over your shoulder, you notched the crown of the cock against her soaked entrance, you could see her start to tighten, her body drawing you in even as it quivered with trepidation. "Breathe for me, sweetheart," you rasp, applying the slightest pressure against her opening, not yet pushing inside. "Nice and easy. Daddy will give you want you need." You hold yourself still, waiting until you feel her relax beneath you, until her body welcomes your touch without flinching. Only then do you start to slowly push forward, watching in awe as the thick crown pops inside her, stretching her around you with agonizing slowness.
You tightened your grip, groaning softly as you watch the thick toy disappear inch by excruciating inch into Agatha's clenching, fluttering channel. Her walls stretch taut around the invading length, gripping and squeezing as if trying to suck the cock deeper. You don't stop until you feel the base of the harness press against your skin, your hips nestled flush against her upturned rear.
"Fuck baby," you groan rapturously as you grind against her, the motion forcing the toy to pull out until just the tip remains before plunging back in to the hilt. Each roll of your hips punishes her with deep, claiming thrusts that worship every contour of her walls. "How could you ever think I'd wanna give this up? Your cunt is made for me - it's perfect, so fucking perfect..."
You dropped her leg to the side, leaning down to capture her mouth in a filthy, open-lipped kiss. You lick into her mouth greedily, tongue invading and conquering, swallowing the desperate whimpers and moans spilling from her lips. Your hand slides between your sweat-slicked bodies to find her swollen, aching clit.
You rub the sensitive bud in tight circles, stroking and teasing until she's shaking beneath you. "Feel that, sweetheart?" you rasp against her mouth, cheek to cheek as your hips continue to rock steadily against hers. "Feel how deep I am inside you? Daddy's cock is stretching this greedy pussy so good, claiming every fucking inch of it one thrust at a time. This cunt has always belonged to me."
Your other hand slides up under her shirt, fingertips grazing her trembling body to palm a heaving breast, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as you knead and squeeze. You circle her nipple before pinching down hard - not enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. You repeat the action on the other breast, rolling and plucking until she's arching into your touch with a banshee wail. You amp up your movements, thrusting harder, faster, deeper.
The obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoes through the room as your hips piston in a relentless rhythm against her ass. Each drive forward punches a broken moan from your lover's throat, her cries spurring you on "That's it, baby," you encourage breathlessly, eyes wild and fierce as you drink in her gorgeous face flushed with pleasure. Agatha's body ripples around the pistoning length, walls squeezing and fluttering wildly as her climax builds with each claiming thrust. Her strict mind starts to unravel, muscles going lax as she surrenders to the blissful oblivion of sheer sensation.
You press your palm flat against Agatha's quivering stomach, feeling the thick outline of the toy moving inside her with each deep, claiming thrust. Her body quivers beneath your touch, muscles fluttering wildly as you grind against her sensitive flesh.
You grit your teeth, eyes blazing into hers with possessive intensity. "Say you're mine," you growl, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of your hips, driving the toy deeper into her spasming cunt. "Say you're mine forever, baby. I want to hear you say it, want to hear this perfect mouth tell me what I already know - that this breathtaking body belongs to me."
Your fingers find her swollen, spent clit, stroking over the sensitive nub in methodical rhythms. You can feel her starting to tighten, walls clamping down around the intrusion splitting her open. Her breath comes in gaps, stutters, each inhale accompanied by a broken moan torn from her throat as you rail into her "Please..." she whimpers, eyes glazed and lust-drunk as they meet yours. "Oh god, please...I'm yoursâ" Her slick, velvet heat clamps down viciously as ecstasy sears through her. "I'm yours, Daddy!"
Your hips never falter, each drive forward punching a guttural groan from your chest as you stare at her, enraptured by the sheer beauty of her submission. "That's it, sweetheart," you encourage breathless and raw. "That's my good girl." You drape your frame over hers , blanketing her completely, your limbs tangled with hers. Wrapping your fingers across the base of her throat, you clench your other hand around her hip, fingers sinking into the supple flesh hard enough to leave indents as you grind steadily and deep.
The relentless pressure of the base of a the toy nudging against her sensitive clit, combined with the thick drag of it plunging into her over and over, proves to be too much for your lover. Her climax slams into her, back arching, head thrown back as a scream of utter rapture tears from her lungs. Her body goes rigid, shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of bliss crashes over her.
You don't stop, fucking her through it with brutal intensity as she thrashes beneath you, her pleasure peaking and cresting again and again. The wet squelch of the toy pumping into her dripping cunt and the slap of sweat-slicked skin filling the air obscenely Your fingers squeeze gently around Agatha's throat, applying just enough pressure to make her breath hitch. You know she loves this, craves this slight restriction, the surrender to your strength.
"Can you give me one more, baby?" you coo sympathetically, voicehusky with desire and a tenderness that belies your brutally claiming fingers and hips. "Just one more... Daddy needs to feel this perfect pussy squeeze around my cock as you cum again for me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"
You punctuate your plea with a hard, grinding thrust, your grip flexing subtly around the delicate column of her throat. Your other hand snakes back between your sweat-slicked bodies to find her clit again, swollen and hypersensitive from her back-to-back climaxes.
You don't tease, just press two fingers firmly against the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing in tight, demanding circles "One more, love," you breathe against her ear, your chest heaving against her back as the slick drag of the toy plunging into her sopping folds continues without respite. "I know you've got at least one more in this pretty little cunt. Let me feel it sweetheart..."
You capture her mouth in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, your tongue invading and conquering. Swallowing her whimpers and moans, you lick into her greedily as you grind and push and demand her response. The fingers at her throat flex rhythmically, squeezing and releasing to the same devastating rhythm of your hips. "C'mon baby," you rasp between lust-roughened kisses. Her walls are already starting to flutter, clinging and gripping and squeezing the thick toy unforgivingly. As you pressed on her throat, your fingers sinking into the supple flesh, you feel her begin to buck harder beneath you, pleasure igniting her nerve endings like wildfire.
Agatha thrashes beneath you, nails scrabbling at your shoulders as her climax crashes through her like a tidal wave. A wordless, wanton cry tears from her throat as her spine arches clean off the bed, pressing her chest flush to yours. The fingers at her neck squeeze just shy of too tight as you grind against her one last time, the thick head of the toy kissing her cervix.
One more powerful thrust and then you're still, buried to the hilt, as Agatha's orgasm rips through her, back bowing, thighs trembling and shaking uncontrollably around your waist. You groan raggedly against her jaw, feeling her body tremble and spasm as the toy fills her up so perfectly, claiming her, owning her, ruining her for anyone else. She came hard, screaming your name like a prayer and a plea, see-sawing through the aftershocks rippling through her curvy body. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she collapses back into the tangled sheets, panting harshly, skin flushed and dewy with exertion. Her eyes flutter open and meet yours, irises hazy and unfocused with sated lust.
You slowly withdraw the toy from her utterly spent and sensitive flesh. Soft whimpers and breathless mewls escape her kiss-swollen lips with each excruciating inch you pull from her gripping heat, until finally, with a last gush of fluid, the thick head pops free and you slip the harness away, leaving her dripping and empty.
Your hands stroke up and down the quivering length of her thighs, soothing the sensitive skin as her body trembles and shivers with aftershocks. You can feel the heat radiating off her flushed skin, the slick sheen of sweat that mists her body as your fingertips trace lazy circles. You waste no time unclipping the strap-on from your hips, letting it fall carelessly to the floor before tugging Agatha into your embrace. Your arms wrap around her trembling form, pulling her close until her naked chest pressed against your own and her thighs slot perfectly against yours. One hand finds her hair, threading your fingers through the tangled mess possessively as the other rests at the small of her back, holding her anchored to you.
You feel her melt against you, bones turning to liquid as exhaustion and satisfaction claim her. Your chest rises and falls in tandem with hers, your breath mingling with her own as you simply hold her "Beautiful girl," you breathed into her skin, murmuring words of praise and adoration against her skin.. "Such a good girl, sweetheart." Your hand slides down to cup her ass, thumbing over the supple flesh and squeezing gently to press her closer.
You press a soft, lingering kiss to Agathaâs cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin against your lips. Your voice is low and rough with emotion as you whisper brokenly, "Please don't try to make me leave again baby...." Your arms tighten around her, anchoring her to you, crushing her soft curves against your own as if trying to absorb herâconsume herâlike proximity alone could fuse you together and make her a part of you in a way that no distance, no mistake, no headline could ever undo.
You bury your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scentâlavender, salt, coffee, and something wholly herâand your heart clenches so violently you have to close your eyes. The thought of losing this, of waking up without her body folded into yoursâit crushes you. It leaves you hollow in ways you didnât know were possible. Your fingers slide through her hair, gentle at first, then tighten almost desperately in the silken strands as your lips brush her cheek again, then her jaw, the corner of her mouth. You tilt her face toward you, not out of demand, but devotion. Your eyes search hers, frantic but tender, looking for somethingâanythingâthat proves sheâs still with you. That she wants to be.
The blue of her eyes is still dark, still swimming with the aftershocks of everything you just shared. But beneath the exhaustion and the hesitation, thereâs a softness now. A crack in the armor. A flicker of something so fragile it makes your chest ache. Vulnerability. Sheâs letting you see her again. And sheâs still here. âPlease, baby,â you rasp, forehead pressed against hers, your breath mingling with her own. Your voice is raw, barely a whisper. âPlease donât shut me out. Donât pull away. I canâtââ
Your voice breaks before you can finish. She catches itâcatches youâin a breathless kiss, slow and tender and painfully intimate. Her lips move against yours with the weight of unspoken things, with the kind of silent understanding that only exists between people who have almost lost everything and clawed their way back.
She shifts in your arms, drawing you closer, until your bodies are tangled beneath the sheets again. The adrenaline has faded, the fire cooled to embers, but neither of you let go. You remain pressed to her, chest to chest, your legs tangled, your hand tracing lazy circles over the dip of her waist as if grounding yourself in the fact that sheâs real. That sheâs not gone. She sighs quietly, her face tucked under your chin now, lips ghosting along the line of your collarbone âYou always do this,â she murmurs.
You run your fingers gently through her hair. âDo what?â
âShow up,â she whispers. âEven when I try to convince myself you wonât.â
You press a kiss to her forehead, slow and reverent. âIâll always show up. I donât know how to do anything else when it comes to you.â
Thereâs a long silence, but not the tense kind. Itâs the kind where everything that needed to be said has been spoken. The kind that settles over two people whoâve cried and fought and kissed and loved until thereâs nothing left but breath and body heat and the gentle rhythm of two hearts finding their way back to the same beat.
You feel her relax against youâcompletely this time. Her breathing evens out. Slows. One of her hands rests over your heart, like she needs to feel it to believe itâs still beating for her. And it is. It always has.
You shift slightly so sheâs draped more fully over you, your arm still snug around her waist. Her hair spills across your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin, and in this quiet, sacred space between exhaustion and peace, you finally let your eyes slip shut.
The world outside doesnât matter. The cameras. The headlines. The mistake. Right now, thereâs only this, the woman you love curled against you in bed. And as your fingers trace a slow path down her spine, your voice comes one last time, low and certain âIâm not going anywhere.â
She doesnât reply. But her hand tightens over your heart. And a moment later, the two of you fall asleepâtogether. Wrapped around each other like forgiveness itself.
for some reason people canât admit that they think an aging celebrity is still an absolute smoke show so they say the person âhasnât agedâ instead of just saying theyâre hot as hell
