summary: you were given leave to choose your own bride until Agatha Harkness came along. Charmed and lured in by her promises of power, your King Father declared you were to be wed. Now, it's your wedding night and certain duties must be upheld.
Set in a world where one can get pregnant from a cum strap
tags: arranged marriage au, virgin reader, strap-on, breeding kink, fingering (r receiving), marking, pet names - princess & good girl, strap referred to as cock once, doggy style
authors note: you're getting the largely unedited version for a little because if I have to read this one more time I'm going to despise it forever
Also don’t question the time I’m posting this I once again thought I only needed to write 100-200 more but it was actually OVER A THOUSAND. WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS. Ahem. Anyway, here’s day six which is almost three times as long as the others.
Reader is referred to as princess multiple times, mentioned royal wedding dress, specified looking for a bride, described as wearing a plain night shift.
ao3 | masterlist
“I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, dear. But there’s no reason not to enjoy ourselves tonight.”
Your hands twist nervously in your simple shift. Your wedding dress had been elaborate. It needed more than one person to get you out of it. Which is not ideal for a wedding night.
You hadn’t had this in mind, exactly. You’d thought you had convinced your father to let you choose your own bride, as long as she met a few of his somewhat reasonable specifications. But then Lady Agatha Harkness had walked into his court. You don’t know whether it was her disarming charm, the power she holds, the boon to the kingdom the exchange would have or his own personal gain but he decided Lady Harkness would be the perfect match for you. He also decided you needed to get married the moment the decision was made.
Thankfully, a royal wedding took months to prepare and you would have some time to get to know your future bride. Not that you had spent much time with her in the end. Only a few dinners here and there. She’s a busy woman, running her own region which she needed to organise another taking over. She can’t look after it and a whole kingdom, after all. Something she insisted despite your father’s good health. She also spent a lot of time with the court. Learning what her new duties will be and charming her way into their good graces.
It would be unnerving if you weren’t so relieved. One of the suitors your father had originally brought forward had no interest in what her royal duties would have been as Queen. Running a kingdom on your own would have been nothing short of hell.
So, small mercies.
“Darling,” she says and you try not to startle.
She’s so much closer than before. She cautiously raises a hand to cup your cheek, like you’re a scared animal. You lean into it, eager to soak up any affection she gives you, and her thumb gently brushes over your skin.
“I know you’re nervous but we both have royal duties to attend to.”
You swallow harshly and look down. This is more than duty for you. You’re ashamed to admit you’ve been looking forward to this night. To having Agatha’s sole attention on you. You’ve dreamed about what could happen, what she’ll be like.
You’ve only been told the very basics. That your wife will enter you with a specially designed device. That it may hurt for a moment but you will feel ‘a pleasure-like feeling’ afterwards. No one would explain exactly what that means. It makes you both more nervous and more excited. The only thing you know about the device is its shape and its intended use. Continuing the royal line.
“I know. It’s just,” you hesitate although Agatha has likely guessed already, “I’ve never done this before.”
“I’m aware,” she says and you flick your eyes up in time to see something flash in her eyes. “I promise to be gentle,” she says softly, a voice you haven’t heard from her before. You gently grasp the wrist of the hand cupping your cheek and nuzzle the hand. “The royal line must continue and it must be of your blood.”
You nod and leave the safety of her caress to cautiously lean closer. She waits for you to come to her and she waits for the first brush of your lips to move. She presses closer and her hands grab your waist and pull you against her. You make a surprised sound and cling to her shoulders for balance. Which you immediately lose as she begins to walk you backwards. The back of your knees hit the bed and she guides you to lay down in the middle of it. It’s hard to notice any of it with the feel of her lips against yours. The way her hands slide along your exposed skin as she leads you doesn’t help. She can’t keep her lips on you the entire time but you don’t mind so much until she pulls away properly. You chase her lips but she stops you with a hand dangerously low on your chest.
Whatever look you’re giving her makes her eyes darken. One hand travels to the hem of your shift. You grab her wrist without thinking, anxiety rearing its head again. No one has seen you naked like this before. With the intention to- to touch. To feel.
“Let me see you,” she says, her voice firm.
You slowly relax your grip. This is your wife and someone who has shown how eager she is to see you undressed. She isn’t going to laugh or mock you. Your fingers slip from her wrist and she pulls your shift the rest of the way off.
It feels exposing in a way you haven’t felt before. You try to cover yourself instinctively but her hands grab your wrists and holds them down as she has her fill. You squirm but she doesn’t release you. Instead, she leans down and begins to suck deep, purple marks along the curve of your breast. It feels better than you were expecting it to (how can something feel so good when it isn’t down there?) but it doesn’t come close to the feeling of her lips wrapping around the stiff peak of your nipple. You gasp and arch into her. She flicks her tongue and your hand tangles in the thick curls of her hair. She does it again and a small whimper escapes you. You can feel her smile. She begins to trail kisses again and you think she’s going to repeat the same delicious thing until you realise she’s heading down instead of across.
“Wait,” you say, moving your hand to land on her shoulder. She lazily raises her head to look at you.
“Yes, princess?” she says in a tone you don’t have a name for.
It makes something spark between your legs and you determinedly ignore it to be able to speak.
“I want to see you too,” you try to speak as confidently as she did but there’s the tiniest waver to your voice.
She quirks an eyebrow before sitting up, taking her warmth with her. She pulls her own shift off and you think you understand her reaction. She’s beautiful. Your eyes devour every detail from her dark eyes to her pebbled nipples to-
Oh. You stare at it with wide eyes. It had looked so much smaller on the page.
“Don’t worry, dear. Your body knows what to do.”
She leans back over you and the thing hanging between her thighs nudges your most sensitive spot. She muffles your whimper with a kiss. You cling to her. Excitement and anxiety swirling into a heady mix as she slowly, slowly begins to push inside of you.
“A-Agatha,” you say, your voice high and needy.
Agatha shushes you quietly and continues to slowly push inside of you. Your legs open wider instinctively. It doesn’t help with the stretching feeling. Nor the building tingling sensation. She continues to steadily push inside of you and the slight pain is overshadowed by the feel of her. Her hands tight on your hips, breath hot against your neck, her hips slowly getting closer and closer to yours.
“That’s it. Take it.”
You spread your legs wider, trying to do what she says. You don’t know why she felt the need to say it. You feel so full you can’t do anything but take it.
“Agatha,” you gasp as she bottoms out, nails digging in as you try to ground yourself.
She groans again and her next thrust is harsher than her last one. It forces a whining moan from you as it hits something inside of you that feels so good.
“Knew I had to have this sweet cunt the moment I saw you,” she grunts and settles into a slower, rougher pace. You can’t help the little noise you make every time she bottoms out. “When I found out about this little ritual of yours, I knew I had to fill this sweet cunt.”
Every word builds an unfamiliar fire inside of you. You don’t know what’s happening to you, what she’s doing to you, but you can feel how big it’s going to be big. The feeling of your pleasure growing as it builds drowns out any worry you may have had.
You wrap your legs around her waist and pull her tight against you, moaning at how full you feel. It forces Agatha to still.
“Princess,” she says warningly but you don’t care because that thread snaps inside of you.
Pure, unadulterated pleasure flows through you and you’re aware of nothing else.
You come back down to Agatha’s face hovering over yours, eyes devouring your every twitch.
“I- what?” you say, completely at a loss for words.
“You just came dear. And I just came in you,” the look on her face mirrors one of a cat that got the cream.
“You…” you stare up at her with wide eyes as you pulse at those words. “But you didn’t…?” you ask after a moment.
“No,” she confirms and your face drops. Her hand cups your cheek and you lean into the touch. “It’s the best time to do it to get the results we want.”
“R-Right,” you stutter and look away, somehow embarrassed by that while she’s still inside of you.
“But you can make it up to me,” she says and you nod eagerly, missing the darker edge to her pleased smile. She pulls out and you whimper at the sudden empty feeling. Her hands grip your hips again and you squeak as she manhandles you onto your stomach and then onto your knees. You automatically put your hands under you but a hand on the back of your head pushes your front back down. A pillow finds it way under your hips. This is a position you weren’t taught about.
Agatha’s hands run down your sides, over your hips, down your ass and stop at your thighs. Her thumbs gently hook around your inner lips and you whimper quietly at the feeling, especially since it feels like you’re dripping.
“You look so good full of my cum,” she says in a rough voice.
You feel that clenching feeling again and she chuckles lowly. Fingers brush your sensitive entrance and your hips jerk in surprise before needily pressing back against them. They start low and move up before gently pushing into you. Embarrassment flares through you when you realise that dripping feeling wasn’t just a feeling. She doesn’t comment though. Instead, she languidly pumps her fingers in and out of you, seeming content to enjoy the way you squeeze around her.
“Too bad I can’t feel this when filling you,” she sighs. You want to protest, you feel plenty full right now, but you know what she means. The idea of her pushing her strap back into you has you pressing back on her fingers again. “Probably a good thing. I’d never let you leave this bed.”
You whimper and try to open you legs wider, begging her to understand what you need. She must because she removes her fingers and a moment later the tip of her strap is dragging teasingly through your folds. You arch more, trying to get her inside of you again and unconsciously presenting for her. She groans and fills you with one thrust. She starts slow but hard, making you feel every inch of her. It doesn’t take you long to become a moaning mess again. Sinking into a hazy place you have’t been before. Filled with Agatha grunting above you, her cock filling you, her nails digging into your delicate skin. It’s all you could want.
Agatha gets louder, and slightly higher, and you realise the same thing that happened to you is happening to her. She’s coming. And you don’t get to watch her.
A strange warmth fills you, one you didn’t notice last time. Agatha leans her forehead against the back of your neck, breathing heavy.
“Good girl,” she says in such a deep voice that your toes curl.
You stay there for a long moment. Agatha buried deep inside of you, catching her breath as you try to even your own, fire still licking up your insides. It’s an awful sort of tease when she pulls out.
She removes the pillow and pushes you onto your side. Instead of getting up like you’re expecting, she curls around your back. Her fingers trail a light path down from your hip and your muscles jump at the feeling. They stop just above the sensitive button she’s so far neglected.
“Agatha? What’re you- “ you cut yourself off with a gasp as her finger begins to gently circle your clit.
“We have to make sure it sticks, don’t we?” she says.
You were so close to the edge before that it only takes a few firm circles and a swipe to fall over it again. It’s a lot gentler this time but it still has your body locking up in pleasure. Agatha leisurely strokes you through your high, her nose lightly nuzzling the back of your neck.
Her hand moves back to your hip and you bask in the warm afterglow.
Some time later, when both of your breathing has calmed and you’ve slipped into that soft space between awake and sleep, you decide that your mouth is dry enough to drag yourself out of bed for a drink. You don’t get far.
Agatha grabs you arm and rolls you onto your back. You give her a confused look as she climbs back on top of you.
“You are not leaving this bed until there’s no possible way I haven’t put a baby in you.”
tags: royalty au, oral (a receiving), implied pet play, praise kink, hint of oral fixation, ficlet
authors note: tried out a bit of a different style. let me know what you think :)
ao3 | masterlist
Queen Agatha Harkness dismisses her court and you vibrate with anticipation. She’s in a not-awful mood, which not only means you get to eat her out but she won’t deny you anything while you do.
She doesn’t wait for the last person to be completely out of the door before gesturing you over. It’s a struggle not to rush but you manage to maintain a respectable pace. The slight tilt of her lips tells you that your restraint is obvious. She lounges on her throne and your eyes are drawn to her spread legs, rudely covered in the skirts of her dress.
You drop to your knees without waiting for her to tell you to. The only reason you don’t immediately pull her skirts up is the risk of displeasing her. Her dark eyes watch you. She leaves you in silence for several moments, another point towards her enjoying making you wait.
One flick of her wrist and you’re lifting her skirts and burying yourself under them. There isn’t enough time for anything proper to be done, just enough for a quick release for Your Majesty. She spreads her legs further. You curse not being able to see her properly.
Diving in tongue first, you whimper at how wet she is. As much as Her Majesty likes to tease you, she anticipates these moments as much as you do. You run your tongue through her wet folds before burrowing lower. She sighs and you can feel a bit of tension relax in her thighs. Determinedly, you lick in and out of her. A slow, relaxed pace that she enjoys when in a mood like this, making sure to move your tongue in just the way she taught you.
She’s good, so so good, at hiding how much you effect her but she can never quite control her breathing. You continue until it’s slightly more than uneven before moving to her clit, running your tongue firmly over it before beginning gentle circles. Her breath stutters and you press firmly again. She lets out a breath that just verges on a moan and victory rushes through you. Determined to keep forcing noises out of her, you move back down. You risk teasing her for a moment, gently swirling your tongue around her entrance and moaning at the taste of her. An impatient jut of her hips is her first warning and you heed it, diving back into the sweet source of her. Finally, finally, she moans and you squeeze your thighs together.
Knowing you’re at a point where she’ll allow it, you wrap your hands around her thighs to keep you balanced as you begin the pattern that works her up the most. One that switches to her clit and back just fast enough not to get you in trouble and send her over the edge before her next duty.
You know she’s close when she gets tighter around your tongue. The addictive sensation has you moaning as she drips down your chin. Your fingers dig in harder as your determination to feel her come grows, not slowing down your ministrations.
She lets out a guttural moan and you press as deeply inside of her as you can. You moan as she comes around your tongue, eyes shut tight as you try to memorise every minute sensation. The fluttering of her walls, the sweet taste filling your mouth, the uncontrollable movement of her hips. You stay exactly where you are until she slumps back in her throne.
Eagerly, you begin your second favourite part. Cleaning her up. It isn’t just for a queen to go around her day uncomfortable and sticky. Carefully, you begin to lap up what escaped you before. Once again resisting the urge to bask in the taste of her and dutifully fulfilling your role.
You make sure to savour the last long lick before pulling back and wiggling out from under her skirts. Her dark gaze greets you. The darkly pleased look on her face almost has you wriggling in place. You shuffle closer and rest your head on her knees. She didn’t dismiss you immediately which means there’s time for praise.
“Good pet,” she says and runs her hand through your hair. You lean eagerly into the touch, practically preening. Her nails scrape along your scalp and you shiver. Five precious pats later and she pulls away. “Run along now, I’ll call again for you later.”
summary: you're caught stealing from captain harkness. She's kind enough to offer you a choice: walk the plank or learn how to use your quick fingers for something else
authors note: i’m aware of the historical and clothing inaccuracies shhhhhhhh stop thinking about it you’ll ruin the immersion
ao3 | masterlist
The yelling has stopped. You’re pretty sure they were lowering the anchor but the swell of the waves tell you that you’re far from a dock. Your stomach sinks. Pirates stopping in the middle of the ocean can mean one of two things. They’re raiding another ship or they’re getting the plank out. The lack of fighting sounds tells you which it is.
The captain kicks the door open. You scramble out of the way as she marches in. Agatha Harkness. The most wanted pirate in England. Finally, you have a face to the name. Not that it will do you much good out here.
She raises an eyebrow expectantly at you, looking unfairly good in her uniform. You aren’t sure what she’s waiting for.
“You stole from me,” she says when she finally gives up waiting.
“Sorry?” you try.
It’s not like you knew it was her. There’s few who’d risk stealing from Agatha Harkness. But the lack of her portrait is her whole schtick and it’s what turned a tiny bit of thievery, a week in the slammer at most, into a walk-the-plank situation.
She huffs a laugh and walks further into the room, sitting on the single chair. You don’t bother making for the door as it falls shut, unlocked. The ship is crawling with her crew and you’re no doubt far from shore.
“I almost didn’t notice you,” she says. Is that a good thing? You look slightly to the left of her. Not sure if she’ll see it as a challenge if you look directly at her or rude to avoid her gaze. “You’ve got two choices,” she says. Well, at least there’s some hope. “Walk the plank or learn to use your skilled fingers for something more useful.”
That makes you look at her. Hard labour over a cold, terrifying death? Yes please.
“As a deck hand?” you ask hesitantly.
Her lips quirk. “No,” she says and doesn’t elaborate.
“Bookkeeper?” you try again. “I know my numbers.”
“Not even close,” she says and gestures at the floor in front of her, which doesn’t clear anything up.
She points down and you slowly sit in front of her, waiting for her to laugh and tell you to do something else. She doesn’t, if anything her focus on you seems to grow.
“Knees,” she says and you start to have an inkling of where this is going.
Since you don’t want to end up in the freezing nothingness of the ocean you obey. It has nothing to do with how shockingly attractive she is.
“Can you guess where this is going next?” She asks as she spreads her leather clad legs. You nod, mouth dry. “Well?”
You hesitantly place your hands on her knees, a small part of you worried you’ve read this wrong. Her expectant expression doesn’t change. You slide them up her thighs. She leans back in her chair. You don’t look up as you unbutton her pants with shaking fingers but you can feel her gaze on you.
You make yourself meet her eyes when you’re done. They’re blazing with heat. She raises her hips and you slide her pants down her legs, trying not to show how the reveal of her skin affects you. You decide to be brave and hook your fingers in the waistband of her briefs, pulling them down at the same time. Her lips quirk up and warmth begins to glow in your chest.
Your eyes drop down to find her cunt wet. It makes you pause. She’s enjoying this. Obviously, she’s enjoying having someone at her feet. That lines up with everything else you know about her character. What gets you is that you’re the one affecting her. You’ve made her this wet. You swallow and you lean closer but hands grip your hair.
“I believe I said your fingers,” she gives you a challenging look when you don’t back down.
You look back down at her glistening pussy and decide not being able to touch her at all is worse than not getting your mouth on her. It’s also probably best not to antagonise the woman who just threatened to shove you overboard, but that thought is far from your mind.
You lean your head against her thigh as you run two fingers up her wet slit, coating them before finding her clit. You start with gentle circles, unsure of what she prefers. You glance up but her eyes are closed, head tilted back slightly. You continue until she directs you to do something else.
“I’m not seeing much skill here,” she growls, her breath slightly uneven.
You slide your wet fingers back down to her entrance. She’s soaked, but you aren’t brave enough to say it. Instead, you slowly push one finger inside of her. Her hips raise slightly and you can see the way she clenches her jaw to stop any noise escaping. Deciding you don’t want that, you slip a second inside of her and scissor your fingers apart. She makes a surprised noise, a slightly higher pitch than you’ve heard her voice go, and you do it again. Her hand tightens in your hair. It’s your turn to make a small noise. Her eyes slide open and she turns her dark gaze on you. Her pupils are blown. She tugs your hair and your pace stutters.
“You need to be able to multitask on my crew,” she says, her voice rough.
You desperately want to use your mouth but you obediently use your free hand to play with her clit. Her eyes slip closed at the new sensation but she doesn’t let it distract her for long.
“Not what I meant,” she says and nudges your lips with two fingers. You part them, curious. She slips two fingers in. You wrap your lips around them and suck as they gently tease your tongue. “Good,” she says, voice rough.
It’s almost enough to distract you from fucking into her. Almost. The feel of her wet heat wrapping around your fingers is too enticing for you to be distracted long. Even when she presses down on your tongue. You scissor your fingers again in retaliation, if she doesn’t come before you go stupid she’s going to throw you overboard.
Her legs begin to tremble around you and you increase your pace. Her fingers leave your mouth to grip the arms of her chair and your gaze gets caught on how they glisten. Just for a moment. The way she gasps and throws her head back as she comes steals your attention. Her hat tilts off-centre, her chest heaves and her walls squeeze you so tightly you wish you had your tongue in her.
You don’t stop until she eases but even then you only slow down.
She eventually waves her hand at you and you cautiously lower your hands. She slumps back against the chair and closes her eyes, breathing deeply. It’s a moment before she speaks again.
“Passable,” she says like she wasn’t panting two minutes ago. “We’ll see how well you do for the next few days before revisiting the plank.”
You nod and pretend like you aren’t throbbing with need.
summary: Agatha likes to work up a sweat before a big show.
tags: band au, strap-on (r receiving), bold reader, dirty talk, degradation - words needy, whore, slut & desperate used, biting, marking, rough, top Agatha, bottom reader
authors note: reader wearing pants and a shirt mentioned in removal of said pants and shirt - no detail given
ao3 | masterlist
“Evening, gorgeous.”
It takes a long second to put a name to her face. Mainly because it’s hard to believe she’s in a random bar the night before her show in front of thousands.
You aren’t sure if you should play it cool or ask for an autograph or faint at how good she looks in low light and leather.
“…hi,” you finally manage to settle on after way to long
You take a sip of your drink to try and help your suddenly dry mouth.
“What brings you out on a Wednesday night?”
“Probably the same reason as you.”
“Getting lucky?” she asks, unashamedly.
You look away in embarrassment. That hadn’t exactly been your plan. But that was before the lead singer of your favourite band chose to talk to you.
“Always a possibility in a bar,” is your try for a casual response.
The way you can’t quite meet her eyes gives you away.
“Oh?” she leans in closer. “You wouldn’t be opposed to someone whisking you away?”
“Not if it’s you,” your eyes drop to her maroon painted lips.
You watch they spread into a sharp smile.
“And if I didn’t whisk you very far?” she asks. You look up to try and see what she means. That doesn’t sound like a ‘my hotel is close’ line. “There’s single bathrooms here,” she says lowly.
Your mouth drops open in a silent ‘oh’. She wants to fuck you right here? The idea isn’t unappealing. Lead singer Agatha Harkness taking you in the bathroom of your favourite bar the night before you see her live.
She takes your hand and you expect her to drag you over to the bathroom but no, she moves it to her thigh. She slowly slides your hand higher until you hit something hard. Your eyes immediately drop down. There’s the slightest bulge in her leather pants. That’s all the encouragement you need. You nod hurriedly and her triumphant smirk makes the heat between your thighs grow.
This time she does pull you by the wrist and you willingly follow. She’s on you the second the door is locked behind you. Lips and teeth and a hint of whiskey. She presses you back against the door. You touch her with the same amount of fervour. Kissing back eagerly, opening your mouth willingly, hands sliding under her leather jacket trying to find skin.
She lifts one of your legs around her waist and grinds forward. Her hidden strap pressing against you hard enough to make you whimper. You feel her smile against your lips. You run your hands further up her shirt and tease the edges of her bra. You’re pressed too tightly together to do much more than that but it gets the reaction you want.
A harsh scrape of teeth over the pulse point of your neck. You groan and tilt your head back. Agatha unbuttons your pants and has them down past your knees in a second. You don’t have time to whine about the loss of pressure. Her strap bumps against your aching clit and you spread your legs as wide as you can.
Agatha chuckles lowly but doesn’t stop to tease you. She guides her strap lower and gently presses against your entrance.
“Please?” you gasp when she doesn’t instantly enter you.
“Say it again.”
“Please, Agatha, please fuck me,” you beg.
She seems to freeze for a moment and you think you’ve done something wrong until she fills you with one harsh thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. She pulls out and does it again. Your head drops back with a dull thud against the door as pleasure sparks through you.
“Someone’s been naughty,” she grunts. She doesn’t slow down and you manage a confused noise. It feels to good to try and concentrate on speaking. You don’t need to be an active participant in dirty talk, especially when she’s emptying your mind so fast. “Not saying when they recognise someone.”
Oh. Hadn’t you told her?
“‘m sorry, I just- “
“Couldn’t wait to get in my pants?” Her grip turns bruising.
You’d be worried if she sounded angry. She doesn’t. All that fills her voice is heat.
“N-no. Didn’ want to-oh-want to embarrass myself.”
“So you followed me into this stall like a needy whore instead?” she leans down to nip at the hollow of your throat. You moan and your hips buck on her next thrust. She huffs a laugh. “You like that, do you? Being my desperate slut?”
You nod and tangle your hand in her hair, insistently moving her lips back towards your skin. She laughs but obliges, sinking her teeth in deep enough to leave a mark. You arch into her and feel your orgasm coming on embarrassingly fast.
“Going to- going to-, “ you gasp.
“Already? I’ve barely touched you,” she says like she isn’t currently pounding into you.
One hand moves to circle your clit and it’s all you need to go flying over the edge. She smothers your cry with her lips and keeps running tight circles on your clit as her hips slow. It’s hard to feel anything other than the pleasure crashing through you and the added fire her touch adds.
She slows to a stop when you lean your head back again, breathing heavy. You grip her shoulders when she tries to pull out.
“Just- just give me a minute, please,” you stutter.
She hums her agreement and instead leans down to run her nose over your new marks. It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine.
“Okay,” you say when you can somewhat feel your legs again. They tremble when she pulls out and are still a little wobbly when she stops supporting you. “Wow,” you murmur as you pull your pants back up.
“I have that affect on women,” she says cockily, fixing up her own clothes.
You resist rolling your eyes. She’s just shown you it’s true.
When you look up again you find her lipstick smudged to hell. You reach out without thinking and try to wipe off the smeared area.
“Careful dear, you’ll get me going again,” she says, voice low.
“You say that like it’s something I’d be upset about,” you meet her intense gaze and purposely swipe over her lips before putting your thumb in your mouth.
You hollow your cheeks and watch as her eyes darken further.
“You wear flavoured lipstick?” you ask innocently and she snorts.
“You’re a treat, doll.”
“Enough of a treat to see you tomorrow night?”
“You want a ticket?” She asks, sounding a lot less amused than she was a second ago.
“After,” the fact that you already have one isn’t the point.
She quirks an eyebrow and looks you up and down before slipping her hand into her pocket and pulling out a small white card. It has the logo of a hotel you recognise with a room number scribbled on the corner.
“The night after,” she says. “Unfortunately, there’s more to the end of a concert than just walking off stage.”
You try to restrain your nod from being too eager as you take the card.
“Totally, what time?”
“Any time after dark,” she says and you’re suspicious of her trying to sound cool.
You bite your lip.
“I’ll be there,” you say.
Her hand darts out to press on your fresh bite mark. You can’t help your whimper at the fresh heat it ignites.
authors note: why does one have underlings if they’re not there to fulfil every need???
Reader is wearing non-descriptive shirt and pants. No pronouns used to refer to them within the story.
ao3 | masterlist
“Ma’am?” you quietly knock on the door.
You don’t know why Councillor Harkness summoned you, you’ve never heard of her bothering to acknowledge an intern before, but you assume it’s another miscellaneous errand you so often get working here. It’s odd for her not to send someone else to give it to you though.
“Come in,” she says in her low voice you pretend not to love.
You open the door and step inside, trying to hide how nervous you are. She’s lounging behind her, honestly massive, desk. Her posture is relaxed but her eyes are sharp.
She motions for you to close the door behind you and that nervousness grows as you do.
“You asked for me?” you stop in front of the desk and clasp your hands together tightly to avoid any obvious fidgeting.
“Yes. Come here,” she says
You hesitantly walk around the desk. Is she going to hand you something? You guess the desk is big enough to need to go around.
You have to be imagining the way she looks you up and down and you scold yourself. Now is not the time. You can fantasise about the unethical ways this could have gone later.
Agatha grabs your shirt and pulls you down. You yelp and try to catch yourself. One hand lands on her shoulder and the other on the back of her chair. You don’t have a moment to think before her hand grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a rough kiss. Her lips are soft and her mouth is hot.
You pull back in shock, sure you’ve overstepped even though she’s the one that pulled down you down.
“Ma’am?” you squeak.
“Quiet,” she mutters and drags you back.
You melt, just for a second. She uses your moment of weakness to pull you onto her lap. Being surrounded by the feel of her, the smell of her. It’s something you’ve dreamt about. You’ve rarely been in the same room as her before let alone so close to her. Her tongue swipes over your lips and the shock has you jerking back.
“What are you doing?” you gasp.
“What does it look like?” she asks, not taking her eyes off of your lips.
“But- I’m not- why?”
Her look turns wholly unimpressed.
“I thought this is why we got you interns.”
“I- no. I get coffee and-and make copies and- “
“Yes,” she cuts you off. “To make our lives easier. To help us relax every once in a while.” Her grip turns bruising. “This is you helping me relax, doll.”
That’s- no. This is so wrong. But you’re literally in her lap. Her intoxicating scent fills your nose and makes you weaker every second. The ghost of her mouth on you makes you ache.
“I- I can do that,” you stammer. She quirks an eyebrow. You try to put more strength behind your words. “I can make you feel good. It’s why I’m here…right?”
For a second you think she’s going to take it back but then she smirks.
“I find fucking is much more relaxing than being fucked in this kind of mood but yes doll, that’s why you’re here. It’s why I hired you.”
Before you can question how much input she had in the interview process she curls her hand behind your head and pulls you in for another heated kiss. You sink into her, hands grasping desperately at her shoulders.
Her other hand slides down your hip and over the curve of your ass. She grips your cheek firmly and you make another small noise against her mouth. You can feel her smile and it’s a struggle not to start rocking your hips.
She curls her hand in your hair and forces your head back. Her lips find the soft skin of your neck instantly and she sucks bright, angry marks into it as she continues to knead your ass. Her teeth sink into your skin and you can’t help grinding down. She chuckles before licking over the stinging mark.
Without warning, her hands move to the back of your thighs and she lifts you from her lap and to her desk as she stands up. One hand covers your mouth and you stare up at her in confusion. She slips her other hand into your pants and pushes three fingers inside of you with no further warning. You arch as you cry out. Her hand muffling the noise stops anyone from coming running.
You realise you haven’t thought through the whole ’stress relief’ thing but her fingers feel too good inside your wet cunt to be upset. She fucks you hard and fast and you can’t do anything but take it.
Your hips try to match her hard thrusts but you’re quickly weakening as pleasure floods you. Your hands curl in her shirt to try and ground yourself, curling forward to rest your sweaty forehead against the soft material.
Her fingers curl on her next thrust and you moan. She does it again and suddenly you’re coming. Your walls flutter around her and Agatha groans a quiet, “Fuck.”
She doesn’t stop.
“Ma’am- Agath-ah,” you try to get her attention but she quiets you up with another curl of her fingers against your sensitive walls. You think maybe she needs to get the last of it out of her system but your pleasure is building dangerously fast. Strong enough that you think it might break you. “I-I can’t,” you try again.
“You will,” she says and tangles her fingers in your hair.
She pulls your head back so she can see your face, devouring the way overwhelmed tears prick at your eyes. “Cry for me,” she says and you do.
The overwhelmed tears slip down your cheeks. She looks like she wants to eat you whole. Instead, she nudges your entrance with a fourth finger. You whimper and grab her other wrist. That hungry look on her face grows and she presses down harshly on your clit. You cry out into her hand has you come again, sharp pleasure crashing into you from every direction.
Her hand leaves your mouth the second your cry ends, despite your continuing noises, and you feel her warm wet tongue running up your cheek following the path of your tears. You whimper and buck your hips weakly. She chuckles darkly before pulling back completely, sitting down.
“Much better,” she says as she wipes her fingers off with a tissue. You stare at her with wide eyes. “You can go.”
“Huh?” You still can’t feel you legs.
She looks at you critically.
“You’re right,” she leans forward, neatens your hair and straightens your clothes. You doubt it helps your ‘just fucked’ look. “There’s no hiding my marks,” she runs her fingers over the numerous marks over your neck. You shiver. “But if you leave the building fast enough, you should be fine. Tomorrow, tell everyone I chewed you out. I doubt they’ll question it if they catch a glimpse of you as you leave.”
That’s way too many words but you nod obediently and stand on shaky legs.
“Will I- I mean will you- in the future?” you can’t believe you’re asking, even if incoherently, but you don’t want to spend the next however many months in suspense.
“I’m running again, dear. I’ll be surprised if I don’t need some help relaxing before the end of the week.”
You pretend it isn’t completely obvious how eager you are. The humour on her face doesn’t help.
“I’ll be here,” you say lamely.
She hums an acknowledgment, already focusing back on her files. You stumble to the door. She stops you before you open it.
“Dear?” she says and you turn around eagerly. “Crying,” she reminds you.
You nod before rubbing and pressing at your eyes to produce fresh tears. The sight has that dark look returning to her face. You swallow and press your thighs together. Is she going to call you back over?
No. She drags her eyes away with visible effort and waves you off. You hurry out the door and then out the building, ignoring anyone who calls after you. Seeing your ‘just fucked’ state would be endlessly more embarrassing then having such a strong reaction to being chewed out by your boss’ boss
You aren’t sure what to do with yourself when you get home. You were expecting to be at the office for at least another four hours.
You manage ten minutes before you’re crawling naked into bed, the biggest toy you have in hand.
Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Agatha Harkness x Wanda Maximoff
Agatha All Along Week 2024 - Day 5
summary: you're pretty sure you aren't being followed - it's probably just paranoia - but you keep catching a flash of red out of the corner of your eye
tags: vampire au, this is more vampire attack than smut tbh, biting (or one big bite), non-descriptive blood drinking, non-con, fingering (r receiving)
authors note: don’t ask how long I spent watching vampire Wanda edits for ‘research’.
Reader is wearing non-descriptive pants. They/them pronouns used.
ao3 | masterlist
Scratch that. You’re pretty sure you’re being followed. The probability of someone going the exact same way as you after three random turns is very small. But it isn’t zero. A fact you are clinging very hard to as you speed up.
This is meant to be a safe part of town and yet there is someone keeping perfect pace behind you. You’ve only managed to catch a glimpse out of the corner of your eyes when walking, trying not to alert them to the fact that you’re aware you’re being followed, but all you made out is long hair and dark clothes. The slight red nowhere to be seen. Maybe you’re imagining things?
You veer into a side street, desperately hoping you’re being paranoid.
The footsteps pass the entrance. You think. You cast look over your shoulder to check to find her looking back, eyes glowing a deadly red. Your instincts kick in and you’re sprinting down the street before you truly process that her eyes are red. The shock makes you stumble. You don’t get a chance to right yourself. A force slams into your side and then you into the wall. Your head follows and you fall to the ground, dizzy as hell.
Hands are on you too fast to fight. The world hasn’t even stopped spinning yet. How is she moving so fast?
You’re lifted up and slammed back against the wall. What little air you’d managed to scrape back into your lungs rushes out. Your head is forced back and something sharp sinks deep into your throat. You cry out and try to push it away. She’s immovable.
A dull ache deep in your muscles begins to spread and you whimper. The ache grows and the deeper it goes the more it starts to feel good. A slight tingle growing into a deep heat sparking along your spine.
A hand forces its way under your pants and into your cunt. You gasp. The tingling in your shoulder drips down to meet the warmth building between your thighs. Red hot heat builds and builds until it envelopes your entire being. Until you’re a moaning, writhing mess. A thumb finds your clit and the heat inside of you blazes. You come hard enough for your vision to turn white.
She moans and that strange suctioning feeling becomes stronger. It makes everything stronger. All that you are becomes heat and the feel of her.
Suddenly, a lifetime later, the deep ache in your shoulder disappears and she steps back. Your legs are too weak to hold you and you slowly slide down the wall. You automatically try to press on the sting in your shoulder but your hand only moves a few centimetres before falling back down. Your arms feel like you’ve fallen asleep on them. Actually, your everything feels like that.
Something hot drips down your neck. Something you should be concerned about. The tingles still spread through out your body makes it hard to. But you do manage to drag your eyes up. To see the thing that’s maybe a woman.
Your brain catches on how nice her clothes are. High end. Which is a strange thing to notice right now but the brain tends to do strange things in times of…whatever just happened to you. You can’t make out much else. The shadows reveal sharp cheekbones and dark-toned hair.
You try to move your hand again and her eyes flash towards you. You freeze. They’re the same dark, glowing red. Inhuman.
Your mouth opens to- you’re not sure. You’re too tired to scream or cry. Maybe to question. But your tongue feels thick in your mouth and you can’t get it to move enough to make anything resembling words. There’s a look on her face you can’t quite make out enough to read. If she even conveys emotions in a way you’d recognise.
She turns and looks back the way she came.
You don’t see her move but she must have because a hand tilts you onto your side. It makes you dizzy enough to feel sick
A pair of black boots walk into view.
“Not bad for your first solo hunt, hun.”
“I don’t think it counts as solo with you following so closely.”
“You could’ve blamed me if you hadn’t left the poor deer in such a state.”
There’s silence from the one who attacked you.
“Don’t take it so personally. You’re still young. You obviously enjoyed yourself, you herded them to a secluded place, and you didn’t even tear them apart.” You watch the boots step closer. “You’re doing amazing, superstar.” She takes a deep breath. “Aw, and you even made it enjoyable for them.”
“Agatha,” the one who attacked you says, sounding like she’s grinding her teeth together.
“Wanda,” Agatha mocks back. “You know better than to use our names. We’ll have to finish this one off now.”
“Your soft heart is going to get you caught, dear,” Agatha says.
“You call this soft hearted?” Wanda scoffs.
“Self-pity gets you nowhere.”
“I st-,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m not having this conversation again.”
Her heels click with every step she takes away from you. The sound is long gone from your ears by the time the other woman moves again.
You watch as the boots slowly turn towards you. You think she’s going to kill you anyway but no. She nudges you, almost curiously, with her boot for a moment before turning on her heel and following her supposed charge.
Authors note: Did I add Agatha in at the end because her and Wanda are so entwined in my mind that I forgot Wanda doesn’t count as an AAA character? …next question.
summary: Wanda is worried about her son's grade. Agatha is gracious enough to offer her extra credit.
tags: teacher/parent au, fingering (agatha receiving), nothing else??? not even biting?? unheard of
authors note: don't question the header i thought i was cooking (i wasn't)
ao3 | masterlist
“Is there really nothing you can do?” Wanda frets, fingers twisting in her lap.
“No, it’s too late in the year for any significant enough make up work,” Agatha states. “There may be enough to bring his grade up to a pass. Maybe. If he applies himself in a way I’ve never seen. Otherwise, there’s nothing he can do.”
Wanda’s shoulders droop
“Right. I’ll make sure it get him to at least try for a pass. Thank you, Ms. Harkness,” she starts to get up.
“There is something you can do though,” Agatha says, biting her lip.
Wanda’s look turns hopeful and she immediately sits back down.
“What is it?”
“Something that would have to stay between us,” Agatha says, slowly unbuttoning the first button of her collared shirt.
“Of course,” Wanda says, eyes stuck on the graceful way her fingers move.
“Something you wouldn’t want to mention in polite company. Of which I am most assuredly not.”
The spot between Wanda’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion.
“The thing two adults do behind closed doors,” Agatha says leadingly.
Wanda looks more lost. Agatha sighs and rolls her eyes.
“Fucking, Wanda dear. Fuck me and I’ll raise your son’s grade.”
“Oh,” Wanda says, wide eyed.
Agatha doesn’t miss the way her pupils dilate.
“I- how?” she quickly continues when Agatha raises an amused eyebrow. “I mean, how would you like me to…” she gestures vaguely.
“Fuck me?”
Wanda swallows and nods, her eyes dipping towards the neckline of Agatha’s button up.
“Your fingers, preferably,” she walks around the desk and slides onto it, right in front of Wanda. She spreads her legs and Wanda’s eyes drop down like it’s a siren song. “Or your mouth. Unless you’re hiding something under those mom jeans of yours?”
Wanda is too eager to do more than shake her head.
“Shame,” Agatha says. “Well?” she asks when Wanda continues to stare. “Your son won’t be penalised if you say no.”
Wanda doesn’t respond with words. She pushes herself up out of her chair and between Agatha’s legs. The satisfied smile Agatha gives her isn’t enough to distract her as she slips her hand down the waistband of Agatha’s slacks.
Wanda hesitates, suddenly unsure. She can’t say she’s never fantasised about having Agatha but this is a lot different to fantasy. Agatha is not only her son’s teacher. She’s also aloof, cocky and disarmingly charming. It leaves her aching but anxious about how much Agatha actually wants her.
“Don’t stop now, doll,” Agatha says, her hips pressing up into Wanda’s hand betrays her unaffected tone.
Wanda slides her hand under Agatha’s underwear and doesn’t hide how affected she is by Agatha’s wetness. It would be useless anyway. Agatha hasn’t looked away from her eyes since she stood up.
Wanda moves her wet fingers up to gently circle Agatha’s clit and watches as her pupils blow. She presses firmer circles and Agatha’s head tilts back in pleasure, exposing the delicate skin of her throat. Wanda can’t help running her lips over it. Feeling the fast pulse of Agatha’s heart and the way she shivers when Wanda very lightly pinches her clit. Wanda wants more. To feel her gasp and moan and tremble.
She slides her fingers lower and, unknowing of Agatha’s preferences, slowly slides one finger inside of her. Agatha is so wet Wanda meets no resistance. She studies Agatha’s face intently as she sets a slow rhythm. She’s already fascinated with the way her eyes turn black with lust but now she studies the way her cheeks flush, the fluttering of her eyelashes as Wanda slightly curls her finger.
“We don’t have all day, sweet cheeks,” Agatha says, her unaffected voice completely gone, now thick with pleasure. Wanda huffs a laugh and pushes another finger inside of her. “More,” Agatha says and Wanda obeys, adding a third finger.
She’s rewarded with a low groan and her rhythm stutters at the sound. Determined to pull more from Agatha, she increases her pace and curls her fingers every time she bottoms out. Agatha’s breathing grows heavier and Wanda’s eyes drop from her face to watch her heaving chest. She itches to unbutton Agatha’s shirt further but Agatha’s tight nipples poking through will have to be enough for now.
Wanda hits something spongey and Agatha moans. Her eyes instantly return to Agatha’s whose are half-lidded and hazed with pleasure. She angles her wrist to hit the spot again and Agatha rewards her with another moan. She wants to swallow the sound. Wanda’s eyes drop to Agatha’s lips. She isn’t sure if kissing Agatha is a step too intimate for what is a spontaneous fuck.
Agatha ends her indecision by winding her hand through Wanda’s curls and pulling her down. Wanda ignores the slight protest her wrist gives and moans against Agatha’s lips. Agatha runs her tongue over Wanda’s lips and Wanda whimpers. Agatha makes a corresponding sound and tugs at her hair. Wanda moves her thumb so it rubs against Agatha’s clit with every thrust. Agatha’s legs wrap around Wanda’s hips. Wanda relishes the way Agatha rocks onto her fingers and presses down firmly on Agatha’s clit to make her come.
Agatha moans and her hips move in time with the waves of pleasure flooding her. Wanda works her through it, slowing down as the shudders wracking Agatha’s body lessen. Wanda’s eyes move between Agatha’s face and the way she’s dripping down her fingers.
She doesn’t resist wrapping her lips around them the second Agatha relaxes. Agatha watches her with dark eyes until she pulls her fingers back out with a pop. Agatha seizes her wrist and licks up Wanda’s fingers. Wanda whimpers and squeezes her thighs together. Satisfied of her effect on Wanda, Agatha lets go.
“Well,” Agatha straightens her shirt, “Until next time, Miss Maximoff.”
Wanda nods dumbly, still stuck on the sound of Agatha coming. Then it clicks.
“Next time?”
“Oh I’m sure your troublemakers will get into more trouble before the end of the year.”
“They aren’t- “
“How many times have you been called in since the start of the term?”
Wanda closes her mouth.
“Exactly. I’m sure I’ll see you within a week,” she fluffs her hair. “It’ll be easy to get a one-on-one with you then.”
Wanda licks her dry lips and Agatha smirks at her.
“Time for the next parent, dear.”
Wanda nods.
“Thank you, Miss Harkness.” She flushes as she realises her normal farewell has another connotation now.
Agatha’s amusement grows but she merely waves her fingers.
Wanda runs her fingers through her hair, trying to tidy it a little as she walks back to her car. She smiles. Next time.
I’m going to disconnect my fics from the aaa week event. I was disappointed about the “illicit themes” rule before the event started (it was only explained exactly what was in there after the guidelines had been posted) but figured you know people don’t like to see it (that’s why things are tagged) but with how they’re handling Wanda I’m gonna dip.
I’m still going to post the professors and vampires one shots because professors is done and vampires is almost done but idk about injured rio. This has sort of killed my motivation. It may be posted in a week or it may stay a wip for a while.
I’m not deleting anything, I’m just moving the fics to my main masterlist and removing any tags and comments that involve the event. My 2024 one will stay up because that was run by a different blog and (as far as I’m aware) they weren’t weird about it.
