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

***NSFW - MDNI***

Agatha x Fem!Reader 💜

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

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

Saturday evenings in our house were always “something”.

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

And tonight...was no exception.

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

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

The result? Absolute, silliness.

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

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

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

“You wound me, hon. Truly.”

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

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

Just this… the four of us.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

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

“You were having a moment.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was not.”

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

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

Agatha gasped. “How dare you.”

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

She grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

I sighed dramatically. “Against my better judgment.”

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

Ella giggled, clapping her hands over her eyes.

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

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

***

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

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

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

Agatha followed my gaze, her smirk lazy, knowing.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

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

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

“Using magic, are we?”

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

“I like waking up to a clean house.”

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

“Mm. Sure. That’s the reason.”

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

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

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

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

I rolled my eyes, tilting my head back slightly.

“Don’t start.”

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

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

“It’s magic.”

“Magic can be practical.”

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

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

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

She scoffed, feigning offence. “How?”

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

Agatha clutched her chest, staggering back a step.

“How dare you?”

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

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

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

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

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

She grinned. “Of course, I would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you think you were going somewhere?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

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

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

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

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

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

Agatha let out a low hum of approval.

“Oh, I do.”

“Then stop talking.”

And for once, she actually listened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agatha let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.”

I grinned. “Thought you might.”

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

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

That was the game she played, we played.

The one we both loved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What doesn’t happen next?”

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

But two could play that game.

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

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

I didn’t stop there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swallowed, my own smirk returning.

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

Her eyes flickered with amusement, challenge… hunger.

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

Happily.

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stopping me already?”

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

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

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

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

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

She was going to make me work for this.

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

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

Agatha’s laughter was dark, promising.

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

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

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

And yet, neither of us stopped.

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

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

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

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

“I do try.”

I swallowed, my body heating under her gaze.

“And if the kids...”

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

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

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

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

“You could stop me?”

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

I could… was I going to… absolutely not.

Because right now?

I wasn’t feeling very responsible.

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

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

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

“You were taking too long.”

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

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

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

It was just her. Just us.

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate how smug you are.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss just above my navel.

“No, you don’t.”

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

No.

No, I really didn’t.

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

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

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

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

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven.

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

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

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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

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

“Agatha—”

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

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

A beat later, my panties were gone.

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

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

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

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

But she didn’t give it me.

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

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

Then I felt it.

Not just her fingers… but her magic.

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t answer her.

I could barely breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And she was thriving in it.

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

“Use your words,” she purred.

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

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

Her smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering across her face.

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

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

Her fingers.

Her magic.

Inside of me, stretching, filling… fucking me.

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

More? Mercy?

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

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

And god, she knew it.

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

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

Not with her inside me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

I was so far gone.

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

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

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

I was going to come.

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

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

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

Holy fuck.

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

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

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

I had been so loud.

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

“I wasn’t—”

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

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

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

I swore my soul left my body.

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

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

And—fuck.

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

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

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

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

She lifted a hand and subtly flicked her fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t—”

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

I gaped at her.

“Agatha!”

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

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

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

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

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

Because the way she was looking at me?

The way my body still hummed from her touch?

I wanted her.

Again.

And again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I felt her.

And—Jesus. She was soaking.

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

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

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

“Look at you.”

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

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

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

“Pleased.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I waited.

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

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

“Fuck me.”

I grinned against her skin.

“Oh, baby, I intend to.”

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

God, she was so tight around me.

Nothing—nothing—felt better than this.

Than her.

Her heat.

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

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

But I wasn’t going to let her.

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop fucking teasing me,” she growled.

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

Mmm—fuck.

I couldn’t deny her anymore.

Not when she sounded like that.

Not when she felt like this.

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

I fucked her.

Hard.

And god, she love it.

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

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

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

That sound.

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

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

From watching her come apart.

From knowing I was the one doing this to her.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t stop—!”

And god help me, I wasn’t going to.

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

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

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

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

“Come for me. Let go, Agatha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Merciless.”

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

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

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

“I really should’ve corrupted you sooner.”

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

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

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her smirk growing wider.

“I never said better.”

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

“Oh, I think I just proved otherwise.

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

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

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

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

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

Agatha hummed again, this time slower, considering.

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

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

“Oh? Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Not when it’s just the two of us.”

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

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