#if she would take it or not is all up to agatha

[lucid-heart]

Hello… Can I ask for a sex pollen fic about Agatha x reader where reader is infected?

👀👀 I take a long time writng but here we go! First time writing sex pollen so it's relatively tame and consentual (considering sex pollen as a concept). I hope you enjoy! I'll be uploading the fully edited version on my AO3 in a few days (when I get around to it) 😚

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x F!Reader

Tags: established relationship, vaginal fingering, minor choking, sub!reader

"F-Fuck," you groan as you stumble into your home. "What- What was that?"

Agatha, who has an arm wrapped around your waist, keeps you support until the two of you make it inside. She waves a hand and shuts the door behind you.

"That, my dear," she says, rolling her eyes in frustration, "was sex pollen."

"What?!"

She guides you into a chair and starts bustling around your kitchen. You watch as she starts gathering random ingredients and tossing them into a pot.

"It's harmless," she says. "Well. Mostly. I should be able to brew an antidote."

You hope so. Because at this point, after stumbling your way back from the forest, your body has begun to tremble. Shivers roll down your spine and yet you aren't cold. Quite the opposite. Heat spreads through your chest, flushing your cheeks until they're a deep red.

And it doesn't stop there.

By the time Agatha looks over at you again, you have started to pant.

"Oh." She puts down the vial in her hand and crosses over to you. "Well. It seems to have taken quite a root in you, my love."

"What... What's happening to me?" you gasp.

She rests the back of her hand against your forehead to check your temperature but the feeling of her touch has heat rushing to your core. You moan despite yourself. And Agatha's eyes widen.

"Sex pollen is named for... well..." Her lips quirk in amusement as your plight. "The affects of has on the body. It's an aphrodisiac. And this one looks to be particularly strong."

Everywhere burns. You stare up at her, lips parting in a needy whine.

She takes your chin in her hand and tilts your head back, gazing down at you with dark eyes.

"T-The antidote?" you manage.

Your eyes slide past her to the potion ingredients discarded on the counter. Your pulse quickens and your palms feel sweaty.

"I could make it," she admits. "It would relieve your symptoms. But fortunately, there is a much easier solution, darling."

"And that is-?"

Agatha leans down and kisses you, hard. You moan at the feeling of her soft lips pressing against yours. She steps between your legs, bearing down on you, hands reaching to cup your face. It's amazing but you want more. You need more.

Agatha, as if sensing your pull, slowly lowers herself until she's kneeling between your legs, not breaking the kiss. Her hands lower from your face so she can squeeze your thighs.

"Aren't you a needy one?" she murmurs against your mouth.

"Fuck," you groan. "Agatha-"

"Careful, (Y/N)," she purrs. "You know I like it when you're desperate."

Heat pools between your legs and you shift in your seat, seeking any touch, any pressure to ease the ache of your pussy. You reach for her but she grabs your wrists.

"Agatha," you repeat. "Please. Please, oh god, I need you badly."

"I know." Her eyes flash purple. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."

You don't doubt it, not when she's looking like she wants to devour you. Agatha wasn't hit by the pollen and yet you can feel the burning desire coursing through her.

"Sit back, pretty girl," Agatha purrs. "Let's get this out of your system."

You expect her to kiss you again. What you don't expect it the wave of heat spreading through your skin. You grasp at her needily, desperate for any contact, any touch. And she's all too willing to give it to you.

Agatha's lips crash against yours, a mess of tongue and teeth, parting your mouth so she can press inside. She kisses you thoroughly until you've gone dizzy. Or perhaps that's just the sex pollen getting to you. She tugs at your bottom lip until it stings.

"Agatha," you gasp. "Please-!"

"Hush," she murmurs. She trails a hand down your chest, teasing the thin layer of fabric separating the two of you. "Let me play."

Play? It doesn't feel like playing, not as she's grabbing you over your clothes. Agatha always has been a tease. She enjoys riling you up until you whimper and beg, likes the power play of holding that desire right out of your reach. Except today, you don't need the build up or foreplay. You're already soaking and needy for her.

Agatha kisses a line across your cheek until she reaches your jaw. She sucks a hard mark into your skin and hums her appreciation.

She continues down, along the column of your throat, down to the neckline of your shirt. You grab the bottom and tug it over your head.

"Delightful," Agatha says, and her eyes gleam.

Her hands roam over you and you arch into her palms. She slips a hand under your bra, taking a greedy handful as you moan. It doesn't take her long to take it off completely and then her mouth is on you.

"Fuck!" you gasp. "Agatha, oh my-!"

That wicked tongue flicks over your hardened nipple as she takes it between her lips. Any word you could have gasped is erased from your mind. All you know is her and her lips.

Reaching out blindly, you find her wrist and drag it between your legs, desperately seeking the press of her inside you.

"Oh, you poor thing," Agatha breathes. "Soaking through your clothes, are you?"

You bite your lip and groan as she presses her fingers along the length of fabric. You're so sensitive that each motion has your hips jumping, seeking more, wanting her. You look at her, words coming up in a whine.

"I need you," you gasp. "So badly. Please. Please. Just- Anything."

Agatha pauses for a moment and you see the cruel flash of her eyes. She has you completely at her mercy.

But she takes pity on you, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, my love."

It takes her moments to undo the button of your pants and to slide her hand inside but those moments feel like eternity. Your chest rises and falls in needy pants, hands falling to grasp the chair beneath you. Good, because you need to support as her fingers find your wet pussy, soaked through your underwear.

Agatha teases at first, circling your entrance, not pushing inside like you want.

"Agatha-!" you whine.

Her free hand catches you around the throat and she pins you back to the armchair with a powerful arm. She smiles at you.

"Now, now. Let me."

Your throat bobs against her palm as you surrender to her.

The tips of her fingers press to where you need it most and you moan, hips stuttering against her. This time, she does indulge you. Two fingers slide into you and it's heavenly. You take her gracefully as she starts to thrust.

Harder, faster, she quickly finds a rhythm that has your nails digging into the arms of the chair.

"Yes, oh god! Just like that!" you moan.

She leans down and kisses you, drinking your moans as she thrusts her fingers in your wet pussy. She is devastating in all the right ways, able to play your body until you can't help yourself. Every nerve feels like it's on fire and you're going to explode.

The noises that you're making is filthy but you could hardly care. Not when she's knuckle deep in you, destroying you from the inside out.

"Go ahead, my love," Agatha murmurs.

You cry out her name as you come. She kisses you again, swallowing your noises of pleasure. She murmurs something to you, a note of praise, but you don't hear it exactly. Not as the blood rushes around your ears and your heart sings for her.

"Fuck," you mumble. "That was..."

"Good," Agatha finishes. "But not enough to satisfy you."

You open your mouth to refute it but you feel the warmth simmering in your gut. The crave, the desire for more. She hasn't pulled out yet, fingers still inside you. You squirm, cheeks flushing.

"Don't worry," Agatha says, as she sinks to her knees. "I'll make sure to flush every bit of that pollen from your system."

And you don't doubt that she will.

[little-jana]

"The Bookstore Incident"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Spencer being clumsy, use of Y/N, early seasons!Spencer

Words: 2.5k

Summary: When Spencer Reid tries to grab a book at a local bookstore, things go very, very wrong. Or do they?

a/n: requested: yes! Anon asked for a prequel to this one! So here it is! Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon.

You had wandered into the little independent bookstore tucked between a coffee shop and a vintage clothing store, looking for nothing in particular. The scent of aged paper and fresh ink filled the air as you traced your fingers along the book spines, aimlessly browsing.

The shop was cozy, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a slightly creaky wooden floor that made the place feel like something out of a story itself.

That’s when you heard the crash.

The unmistakable sound of books tumbling to the ground echoed through the store, making you and a few other patrons jump. Turning toward the commotion, you saw him—an absolute disaster of a man standing amidst a pile of fallen books, looking both mortified and helpless.

Tall, lanky, and frantically pushing his unruly brown hair out of his face, he was reaching for the top shelf of a precariously stacked display. It seemed that whatever book he had been trying to retrieve had caused a domino effect, sending at least two dozen books cascading to the floor.

“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath, crouching down to start picking them up. He looked like he was debating whether he could somehow put them back before anyone noticed. Spoiler: he couldn’t.

You couldn’t help but smile as you walked over. “Need some help?”

His head snapped up, startled by your presence. “I—uh, yes? Maybe? That would be—um—thank you.” His voice was soft and warm, yet tinged with embarrassment.

You crouched down beside him, picking up a book and glancing at the title. Theoretical Physics and the Multiverse Hypothesis. You raised an eyebrow, looking at the others scattered around. A mix of philosophy, quantum mechanics, psychology, and a single, completely out-of-place Agatha Christie novel.

“Quite the collection you knocked over,” you teased, stacking a few books into a neat pile. “Little bit of everything.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, adjusting his sweater vest as he gathered another handful of books. “I, uh… I like to read.”

You grinned. “I can see that.”

For the first time, he looked directly at you, and you noticed just how kind his eyes were—warm brown, filled with something sharp and intelligent but also… a little lost.

You held up the Agatha Christie novel with a smirk. “Murder mysteries, too? Didn’t peg you for the type.”

He blinked, then smiled—just slightly. “Actually, I find her writing fascinating. She once disappeared for eleven days, and no one knows exactly what happened during that time.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “That’s a fun fact.”

He perked up a little. “I have more.”

You laughed. “Oh, I bet you do.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but before he could say anything else, you grabbed the book he had originally been reaching for off the shelf and handed it to him.

“Here,” you said. “This the one that started it all?”

He nodded, taking it gingerly, as if he wasn’t sure he deserved it after the chaos he’d just caused. “Yes. Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid. I’ve read it before, but I wanted to reference something.”

You shook your head in amusement. “Of course you have.”

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” he blurted out suddenly, as if realizing he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Spencer. I’m (Y/N).”

He hesitated for a moment, then—tentatively—held out his hand. His grip was gentle, fingers warm against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it made your heart skip a beat.

“Well, Spencer,” you said, unable to keep the teasing note out of your voice, “if you ever need help knocking over more bookstores, let me know.”

He let out an actual laugh this time—a soft, real one—and ran a hand through his hair, still looking adorably flustered.

“I might just take you up on that.”

[aaplecore]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl

(Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

Summary: An unfamiliar cowgirl comes into the saloon you work in one day, helping you deal with a group of creepy regulars.

Warnings/tags: None, only minor nsfw stuff (Implications)

Notes: This is not proofread at all… it might be a little off, sorry </3

I have some better stuff planned for after this, trust 😇

(plus I don’t have writers block so I’ll be posting frequently hopefully….)

On a hot, dry, summer day, you were working your usual hours at Westview’s local tavern. As a barmaid, the pay was fair, plus you got free drinks… but you also had to deal with a constant onslaught of touchy-feely cowboys. Drunk cowboys, at that.

Of course, this meant learning to deal with guys grabbing your ass every now and then… but, tonight, they were being especially rowdy.

“Why don’t you give us a smile, baby!”

One of the men called, slapping your ass as you walked away with a tray of drinks. If it weren’t risking your job you’d knock his lights out. Since that isn’t exactly possible if you want to afford rent, you turn around quickly to rip him a new one instead, even though it would mean a few days of working the closing shift alone… just before you feel a woman’s hand resting on the crook of your back.

“Herb… are you bothering this beautiful young lady right now?”

She asks, glaring at the man. He looks… scared?

“No. ‘Course not, Agatha.”

He says quickly, shaking his head. He’s now looking down into the glass of whiskey, avoiding the woman’s gaze. You look over at her to see her intently glaring at the man, a look of warning. You also noticed she just so happened to be kind of hot.

“Hm. Okay. I just want to let you know…”

Agatha steps up to the table, letting go of you and resting her hands on the table, looking over the man—Herb, presumably—with an intimidating stare.

“If I ever see you grope another woman like that i’ll knock your sorry ass into next week, m’kay?”

She says quietly, standing up with a smile, as if she hasn’t just threatened this grown man. He doesn’t even try to argue…

As soon as you look back at her, you see she’s staring, looking you up and down with a smile.

“You alright, dollface?”

She asks, guiding you away from their table and back to the bar with a hand on your back again. Her fingers drum in your waist as she walks and her grip is firm… but also clearly delicate.

“I’m fine. Thank you for that. I would’ve gotten three shifts of closing if I did it…”

You mumble, walking around the bar as she leans in on the bar top, closer to you, that same smirk on her face.

“I’m y/n.”

You hold out your hand to her, taking the time in front of her to look her up and down. She was clad in a brown suit and matching hat, her long, wavy hair falling over her shoulders and around her face. For a cowboy—cowgirl?—she really was stunning.

“y/n…”

She smiles wider, shaking your hand firmly in hers. As soon as she’s done shaking your hand, she pulls it up and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. Her lips are surprisingly soft. And warm. It makes you blush a little.

“I’m Agatha. Agatha Harkness. It’s a pleasure, beautiful.”

She says confidently, very, very obviously flirting with you at this point. Although, based on her general… vibe, you assumed this wasn’t anything special.

Finally, after letting her hand linger for a moment, she lets go of you and removed her hat, leaving it on the bar. You almost missed the way her calloused hand felt in yours, even after only knowing her for a matter of minutes.

“So, how long have you been working here, doll?”

She asks, tilting her head to the side, her chin resting in hers hand. You can’t tell if she’s sizing you up or checking you out. Maybe a bit of both.

“About a year now. It’s not a bad gig. Other than the creepy dudes.”

You huff, glaring over at Herb once more before turning to look at Agatha again.

Okay, now she’s definitely checking you out. The way she’s staring… but you didn’t exactly seem to mind it. Really, your face flushed a little and you felt a sort of warmth spread within you.

“They’re a bunch of dicks, sweetheart. Although… they’re not wrong.”

She says lowly, tilting her head to the side.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying that. You must know how beautiful you are, especially with how much… attention you get around here.”

She shrugs, casually complimenting you like it was nothing. Not even your regulars complimented you this much.

“I- well, thank you. I… don’t mind it.”

You admit, smiling a little at her.

She smiles back, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar top. You couldn’t help but get a little distracted by her fingers. A weird thing to be distracted by… but damn.

“Well… it was lovely to meet you dollface, but I ought to be going. Hopefully i’ll see you around.”

She says, winking at you as she stands up, waving with a wiggle of her fingers as she walks out, her hips swinging with her steps. The doors to the saloon swing shut… and shes gone before you even got the chance to really talk to her.

You sigh as she leaves, and turn around to clean the bar top to busy yourself… until you spot her hat still on the bar top. Immediately, you grabbed it and ran out the door, looking for her… but she was already gone.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, contemplating what to do. Looking over the hat, you spot a small label on the inside… with an address! This couldn’t have been better. Now you had an excuse to see her again and she could get her hat back.

————ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A few days later, when you finally had a day off, you decided it was the perfect time to deliver Agatha’s hat.

You put on your favorite outfit, making sure you looked as cute as you could for her.

It’s a surprisingly short walk from your house to hers. It was perfect. When you arrived, you knocked on the slightly worn wooden door, waiting with her hat in hand for her to come.

“Hey… dollface, what’re you doing here?”

She asks as she opens the door, leaning in the doorway, smirking down at you. Could a few days make someone even hotter?

“I have your hat. You left it at the bar the other day.”

You shrug, smiling as you hand her the hat.

She takes it from you and places it back on her head.

“That’s awful sweet of you… how about you come in for a drink? I’m not sure it can measure up to what you have at that little saloon, but it’s the company that matters, dont’cha think?”

She asks, motioning you to follow her inside. Now, you had a chance to look her over. She was only wearing a flannel and jeans with a white tank top. Much less… formal than the other day. And she pulled it off.

“You drink whiskey?”

She calls out, pulling down a bottle as you walk in. You come in to stand next to her in the kitchen, resting your elbow on her counter, watching her pour two glasses before you even answer.

“Here, dollface. Thanks for returning my hat.”

She smiles, handing you the small glass and clinking yours with hers. After you take a sip, she places her hands on your waist to guide you in front of her while she leans back on the counter.*

“You’re awful nice for hand-delivering this, sweetheart… you didn’t want to wait for me to come back to the saloon?”

She asks, tilting her head to the side while she holds you against her. The way her hands feel, gripping your waist, pulling you against her… it’s like you were putty in her hands. Instinctively, you place your hands on her chest, almost to keep yourself up straight just in case you get a little weak in the knees.

“I- uh, I wanted to make sure you got it. Just in case I wasn’t working.”

You make up an excuse, obviously not wanting to explain ‘I thought you were hot and I really wanted to see you without a gaggle of handsy men watching us’.

Agatha sees right through it. It’s obvious you’re lying. So… she runs with it, leaning in a little bit to tease you, pressing her lips to your jawline… then down your neck… to your ear. You definitely weren’t expecting that.

“That’s it? You’re too nice for your own good, dollface.”

She mumbles between kisses, looking up at you as she hears your breath hitch in your throat, noticing the way your grip gets a bit tighter in the fabric of her flannel.

“Not that I mind you coming over…”

“Well… maybe there was something else.”

You shrug, biting your lip to hold back a little moan when she kisses a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

She chuckles in response, running a hand up your side.

“There was? And what might that be?”

She asks sarcastically. She already knows the answer… she just wants to tease it out of you.

“I wanted to see you.”

You admit, running one of yours hands up to her neck, trying to guide her face to yours.

“To get to know you.”

Agatha smiles at that, smirking with that cocky smile on her face. She can infer the rest from there.

“Well, aren’t I lucky…”

She mutters, following the guidance of your hand and bringing her face at-level with yours, kissing you before either of you can think any better of it. Her lips are still as soft as they felt on your hand… except now you can feel the slight callouses and cracks. It only makes it better. She brings one hand up to cut your cheek, gently rubbing your ur face with her thumb as she other hand grips your hip tighter.

After a second, she pulls away, panting softly.

“How about we go back to my room, dollface?”

“That would be nice.”

You reply quickly nodding. Before you know it, she’s kissing you all over, pulling you pack to her room with her.

[lilithschosen]

🎤 👀

At this time, I would like to humbly request some Butch!Agatha down on her knees, sucking off Vidal's strap while Vidal is purposefully wearing a push up bra that's obviously too small for her AND, crotchless underwear AND, high heels....

🎤🦗

🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫

(this was fun to write ngl LMFAO)

Her hand cups Agatha's jaw, painted nails digging into the soft flesh as her lips curl up. Agatha's cheeks hollow as she sucks the length of the toy into her throat, ignoring her gag reflex that threatens to trigger. Rio pushes the back of her head, holding her firmly as she sinks the toy deeper. The tip of Agatha's nose touches the harness, her eyes drifting up Rio's body as she fights against the silicone in her mouth.

"Aw sweetheart," Rio mocks. She leans over, looking past the swell of her breasts in the tight black bra, watching Agatha with amusement. She lets her hands fall, placing them on her shoulders as she quickly pulls her head back from the toy and gulps down air. "I wasn't expecting you to handle that as well as you did."

Agatha wipes at the drool on her bottom lip, chest heaving as she fills her lungs after depriving them for so long. She reaches for Rio's strap after a moment, ready to go for more.

"Eager?"

She lifts a her foot and places the tip of the stiletto heel into Agatha's bare thigh and digs it into the meat of her leg. Agatha hisses through her teeth, hand wrapping around the base of the toy as she leans back towards it.

The scent of Rio's arousal was intoxicating, being so close to her wet cunt was all Agatha needed to suck on the toy attached to her body. As her lips part to welcome the tip of the toy again, her hand slides from the base of the toy and underneath. She dips her fingers into Rio's folds, only able to with the crotchless underwear she decided to pair with the deliciously tight bra.

Agatha looks up again through hooded eyes, a twinkle of mischief as she curls her tongue around the underside of the toy and takes half the length into her mouth with ease. She locates Rio's clit, pad of her thumb firmly pressing against it and Rio's hips jerk, making Agatha take more of the toy in.

"Oh fuck."

Agatha would be grinning from ear to ear if Rio's cock wasn't so far down her throat. She groans around the toy, slobbering around it as she twists her head to bob up and down the length while rubbing Rio's clit.

Rio can't stop herself, rolling her hips and watching the green toy disappear around Agatha's perfect pink lips. Her cheeks were red, sweat forming in her brow as she keeps going. Rio bites down on her bottom lip at the image.

"God you're so good at sucking me off, baby," Rio gathers up the hair that fell from Agatha's ponytail, holding it back as she fucks her mouth. She digs her heel in further, knowing well and good there would be a mark in the morning. "Might have to get that squirting dildo you love so much and cum down your throat."

Agatha chokes on the toy, taking too much too fast at the thought. Rio stops her thrusting, wanting to check on her girlfriend who greedily sucks the toy back down and continues. She rubs at her clit firmly with tight circles, mouth still working the full length.

Rio blinks away the hazy vision as her orgasm pummels her, overwhelming her senses as she cums. Her hips twist haphazardly, no distinct rhythm but she keeps moving as she rides it out and fucks Agatha's throat.

A deep, guttural moan falls from her lips, free hand reaching to paw at her breasts spilling over the cup of the bra until she regains herself after a few moments. Agatha watches, her own slick sticking to her thighs. She clenches around nothing as her clit throbs, begging to be touched.

Rio chuckles breathlessly, blinking hard as she looks down at Agatha on her knees in front of her. She lifts her heel from her leg and takes her jaw in her hand once more. As she pulls out of her mouth, Agatha swirls her tongue around the tip of the toy and winks at Rio.

"Show off."

Agatha grins now, "You love it."

[rainydayathogwarts]

Never ending song - Sirius Black

summary: rockstar!reader - when your parents divorce, you decide to move to london to finish your last year of school, and take your music career there with you. what happens when you meet another pureblood rebel named sirius black. wc: 7.3k+ a/n: funnily enough this whole concept was inspired by The Ballad of the Witches Road from agatha all along being a protection spell.

WITCHES WEEKLY

In a twisting turn of events, rockstar y/n l/n ditches her parents amongst their divorce to move to London with her aunt.

A new light has been shed on rockstar y/n l/n since the beginning of her parents’ divorce. The singer songwriter, famously known for her most recent album “Heart of Chaos” was seen in court this week, finally showing her vulnerable side to the public, contrary to the heartthrob persona she usually puts on.

Her parents, two world renowned aurors have reportedly called it quits after more than twenty years together, and this week in another court hearing, a shocking event took place. When young adult y/n was asked by the court which of her guardians she would like to live with, the two parents broke out into an argument, causing the rockstar to have an astounding outburst. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to live with either of you — I mean just look at you. One of you has a drinking problem so bad you shouldn’t be allowed to work and the other works so much and is so controlling and insensitive that living alone would be better than living with you!” The unfolding truth about her father’s drinking problem has opened a new case which could potentially cost him his license as an auror.

L/n’s aunt, her godmother, lives in a remote area in London, and owns a very successful boutique in Diagon Alley, one of the most popular magical villages in the UK. The guardian was brought into court this Friday, and the judge confirmed that y/n would be living with her aunt until she becomes a legal adult, in which case the choice of her living situation will be up to her.

This means that for her last year of school, the popular singer-songwriter will be quitting her studies at the Ilvermorny Institute of Magic to begin a new journey after the Christmas holidays at the hight ranked school of magic in the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The real question is: what will this mean for her musical career? Will she change record labels, or go independent?

Sirius’s jaw went slack, the tea he had previously sipped dribbling out of his open mouth and onto the newspaper in front of him. He frantically wiped away at the liquid, muttering a “No way” under his breath. “Padfoot that was absolutely disgusting” Remus commented, throwing a napkin at Sirius’s face. James laughed, rearranging the glasses balancing on his nose, but Sirius quickly interrupted him. “No, no, look at this!” He exclaimed, shoving the paper into James’s unprepared hands. Lily and Remus, sat on either side of the quidditch player, leaned closer to James, reading the paper over each shoulder.

“Oh hey, isn’t she the girl whose music you’re obsessed with?” Lily pointed out, finger resting on the moving image of you in court, shaking your head disappointedly at your parents. Sirius nodded frantically, snatching the paper back from his friends. “The popular singer-songwriter will be quitting her studies at the Ilvermorny Institute of Magic to begin a new journey after the Christmas holidays at the highest ranked school of magic in the world: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Sirius read out, a look of excitement on his face. “This is great!”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

“This is terrible.” You muttered two weeks later, arranging the tie adorning your neck. “I feel like I should have thought things out a little more before deciding to move halfway through my last year of school, right?” Your aunt laughed, shaking her head from where she sat on your bed across from you. “Hogwarts is great, and I’m sure you’ll be a lot happier here than you were before.” You got off your bed, kneeling down to finally close your suitcase. “I hope so. I just wish they have something about spells in song. It’s my favourite thing to learn about.” Your aunt hummed, helping you up from the floor and rearranging the tie on your chest. “Well, the student can always become the teacher.” She mumbled with a smile. “Now don’t forget your jumper, you’re on the brink of missing your train.” You jumped up, grabbing said jumper alongside your suitcase and guitar case, ready to apparate to the station.

The station, bustling with magical activity, screamed of students excited to return to Hogwarts, with magical firecrackers flying across the platform and chocolate frogs escaping their packaging. Parents cuddled up nostalgically, remembering the first time they’d dropped their children off here.

Platform 9 ¾.

You sighed, turning towards your godmother for the last time before you’d leave her until the summer. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. Shutting your eyes tightly to savour the quick moment with her, you were interrupted by a bright flashing light in your direction. All too familiar to the feeling, your eyes snapped open, exposing the reporter and her cameraman in front of you. You glared at the pair of them, letting go of your aunt’s hug to flash her one last smile and a loving “Bye bye” before rushing onto the train, where you know the journalist wouldn’t dare follow you.

"Rockstar y/n l/n shares tearful goodbyes with her godmother before hopping on the Hogwarts Express to mark the beginning of her witchcraft journey in the UK. Will she receive the same praise in the land of the Brits as in the United States, or will her career fall short? It’s difficult to tell if the new audience will boost her sales due to its new exposure to her music, or if the teenagers of the UK will find l/n unrelatable. Only time will tell…"

The whistle of the train had you jolting awake in your seat, looking around the empty compartment to make sense of your surroundings. Sighing, you blinked the fatigue away, observing the figures crowding the hallway of the train. You followed the pack’s movements, gathering your suitcase just in time for the train to come to a halt, wheels screeching on the tracks as it settled on the platform, the door to the compartment slamming open. “Newbie, I’m guessing?” You spun on your heels, eyeing the boy in front of you wearing green robes. “What gave it away?” He chuckled, nodding towards your suitcase. “Leave your stuff on the train.” You eyed him wearily, gaze wandering down the hallway to see if he was trying to fool you. Alas, none of the other students carried their luggage with them. Cautiously, you lifted your suitcase onto the seats next to you, deciding to trust the stranger.

The boy stuck his hand out in front of him, a strand of blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. “Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.” You shook his hand with a thankful smile, introducing yourself to the pureblood. It didn’t take long for you to notice the newspaper Malfoy carried under his armpit, making the carriage ride up to the castle uncomfortable, realisation of his previous knowledge of you dawning on you. At the glimpse of your smiling face in the paper, you wondered how they represented you today.

Were you the snobby pureblooded princess who threw away everything her parents did for her, or the poor, vulnerable teenager whose parents abandoned in the midst of their hatred for the other?

The castle was impressive, more so than Ilvermorny had been, you noted as you stepped foot in the entrance hall. You weren’t surprised that Malfoy immediately left your side, catching a snippet of the remark he made to his friend who met him in the hall, beginning with “Mate, you’ll never guess who…” Instead, you allowed yourself to be whisked away by a tall, intimidating woman who suddenly appeared in front of you, summoning you with an ominous call of your name. You followed the nameless woman down the halls of Hogwarts until you stopped in front of two open double doors, tall enough to reach the high ceilings of the castle. The Great Hall was full of students, some of which were still taking their seats at their designated tables. You felt as though every single pair of eyes in the hall turned to look at you as you stood in the entryway. The view was somewhat more intimidating than your largest selling concert, despite the decrease in number of people.

Gulping, you let your gaze wander to the man sat at the centre of the teacher’s table, returning his steady stare. Albus Dumbledore. You’d read books about him; his problematic backstory and the people’s tendencies to forgive and forget. Here he stood now, in charge of the next generation of wizards. You watched as he stood up, booming voice echoing in the hall as he gathered the students’ attention.

From the Gryffindor table, Sirius elbowed James, innocently sat next to him, desperately waiting for dinner after a rigorous snow fight with the other marauders. James hissed, turning towards Sirius, who redirected his gaze towards the doors of the Great Hall, where you stood.

“Mate she looks scary.” James muttered, eyes glued to your fixated glare, your overconfident posture, your perfectly manicured nails. “Yeah.” Sirius sighed in amazement.

Ironically enough, your composure communicated the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You had to consciously keep the muscles in your legs flexed otherwise you were sure they’d be seen shaking from the other end of the hall. You kept your hands flat against the sides of your thighs to ensure you didn’t nervously fiddle with anything, only moving your hand to flick your hair over your shoulder because it was itching the side of your neck uncomfortably. “Oh she thinks she’s so much better than us.” Sirius heard a girl mumble further down the table, watching as your beautiful hair was swept behind your shoulder.

“Students of Hogwarts!” Dumbledore began, silencing everyone in the hall. “Welcome back! I hope you’ve had a wonderful winter holiday. As I’m sure many of you have heard, we are starting the new year with a new student to join our community of witches and wizards. To welcome her, she needs to go through the rite of passage that every student here at Hogwarts has gone through. Miss L/N, would you please step up to be sorted into your Hogwarts house?”

“You’re joking.”

The hall erupted in laughter at your comment, which had come out much louder than you’d intended, and Sirius heard the girl who’d previously made a comment on you now say “Never mind, she’s so right about that.” Your head snapped to the tall Professor next to you, eyes desperately looking for her to tell you that Dumbledore was, in fact, just joking. However, she only smiled sympathetically at you, putting a hand on your shoulder to softly nudge you down the hall. In an attempt to ignore the eyes following each step you took, you observed the different tables around you. Blue, red, green and yellow. God, you didn’t care where you were put as long as it wasn’t the yellow one. That colour didn’t go with any of your clothes.

Your heels echoed on the stairs, and you almost rolled your eyes at the sight of the stool placed in the centre of the platform. It was too cliché. You sat down, folding one leg over the other before the same old Professor approached you, this time carrying an old, filthy hat. You returned your gaze to the rest of the hall, watching each pair of eyes scan your body before your vision was stolen, and you welcomed the darkness. The sorting hat was heavy on your head, and a few sizes too big, you realised, feeling the tickle of the hat’s rim against your nose.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, I know just where you should go.” What the fuck? “Oh give me a break, I’m just trying to make this a little fun.” Fun? The hat’s raspy voice echoed in your mind, and you almost fell into a trance as it scanned through all your memories. Like a movie, a certain memory displayed itself in your brain, your very own voice echoing in your head. “Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to live with either of you!” “Mhm, confrontational, rebellious.” The hat murmured in your mind before ultimately yelling out:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Sirius was the first one on his feet, cheering you on as you made your way down the steps and towards the table. He tried hiding his disappointment when you were whisked away by a group of girls in his year group towards the front of the table, greeting you with welcoming smiles. Halfway through dinner, Lily had to scold him for how often he glanced your way.

On the way back to the common room, Sirius sped up, trying to catch up with you while dragging James and Remus with him by the wrists. The crowded hallways were the cause of Sirius's lack of success, and he huffed loudly when he couldn’t manage to slip past someone, the gap between you and him increasing as people pushed past him. When he finally made his way through the Fat Lady’s portrait, he grinned widely, eyes scanning the cozy common room, only for the smile to fall from his face when he couldn’t spot you in any of the seventh year students’ usual spots.

He was too late; you’d already been whisked away to your dorm.

It was only a week later that he’d managed to finally speak to you, despite sharing most classes with you. Mary and Marlene had clearly become close to you, and you’d even gotten to meet Lily, but Sirius? Well, you had no idea who he was.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Sirius, Remus and James were late to class. They had been doing so well with being on time and avoiding useless detentions, a resolution they had made together for the new year. They rounded the corner of the hallway, panting loudly as they ran, trying to catch the stairs before they shifted again, which would inevitably make them even later.

You sat on the stairs with a bored expression, leaning your chin on your hand, your bag on the floor next to you. You had gotten here a few minutes ago, and just like the three marauders, had missed the stairs. Loud groans pulled you out of your train of thoughts, looking up to see where the voice had come from to find three boys your age — the marauders. They were all panting: Remus had his hands on his hips, head thrown back to catch his breath, and James had crouched down, leaning his head on the stair’s railing. “You alright?” The mysterious boy caught your attention. He stood nearly directly behind you and had long curly hair and a sweet smile, though his eyebrows were pulled together in concern at the sight of you sat alone on the stairs. Just like his other two friends, his chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, cheeks slightly rosy. You nodded softly “Yeah, gave up trying to find my way to class ten minutes ago.” Sirius chuckled, moving to sit down next to you. You could hear his heavy breathing, but he still asked “What class do you have next?”

Sirius knew what class you had next.

You had transfigurations, same as him. But you hadn’t noticed that you shared the class with the boy, unlike him, who had internally cheered when you first walked into the transfigurations classroom. “Transfigurations. Marlene gave me a tour of this whole place like a week ago but I still can’t get my head wrapped around it.”

“You let Marlene give you a tour?” Remus’s voice suddenly sprung up, causing you to look at Sirius in confusion. He felt his heart surge as he realised you were looking at him to clarify. You had instantly chosen to trust him. “Was I not supposed to?” Sirius shrugged with a smile, “She’s just not the most… knowledgeable person of the castle. She still gets lost getting from the common room to the Great Hall sometimes.” Your laugh surprised him, and you reached a hand out to him, saying “I’m y/n, by the way.” Sirius’s grin widened impossibly as he shook your hand, introducing himself and the marauders behind him.

“Well, we’ll walk you to class. We’ve got McGonagall too.” You shook your head at Sirius’s offer, pushing yourself off the ground to stand up. “No way I’m going class 15 minutes late. I’m not waiting to be humiliated in front of a full class of people who probably already know who I am.”

“Fair enough.” Sirius stated, mimicking your movements. You shot him a look from the corner of your eye. “I take it you know who I am then?” Sirius’s cheeks darkened, but he didn’t let the exposure humiliate him. You’d think he was pathetic. He puffed his chest out confidently. “You could say I’m an avid enjoyer of your music. But that doesn’t make you any different to the next guy.” With the smile that blossomed on your face, someone would have thought that Sirius gave you the most flattering compliment. “Okay, good to know, Mr. Sirius.”

“Black.” He added, “Sirius Black.” Your eyes widened slightly at the name. Pureblood, you noted. One of the sacred 28. You both looked at each other with acknowledgment. He knew who you were, and you knew who he was. You took the silent moment to take in his features: striking silver jewellery on his fingers and around his neck, you spotted tattoos creeping up the collar of his uniform. A rebel. As his eyes bore into yours, you instantly knew there was a mutual understanding between you. And without another word, you were turning the corner to the next hallway and disappearing from Sirius’s sight until the evening came.

You lingered at the bottom of the stairwell to the girls’ dormitories, debating on making an approach or not. You liked Sirius. He obviously related to the parental pressure, and didn’t care too much about you no matter how much he liked your music. And he had style. Realistically, it was also about time to make friends other than your dorm-mates and their one friend. You imagined that no matter what happened, it wouldn’t be worse than your interaction with Malfoy. “Sorry.” You muttered, moving away from the staircase to let some girls make their way up to their dorms.

Feeling the girls look back at you, you mustered the courage you had to stroll across the common room towards where Sirius sat with his intimidating group of friends. The group turned their attention to you as you approached them, and you ignored the nerves building up in your gut, instead saying “Hey”, though it was mainly pointed towards Sirius. The boy was already making space for you to sit down next to him before you had the chance to ask. You were grateful when the others around you carried on with their conversations, turning towards Sirius. “Hey Sirius, do you know if there’s an extracurricular or something about spells in song?” The boy in front of you furrowed his eyebrows as though he had never heard of the concept before, and you knew that was a bad sign.

“You know, like when protection or love spells are, like, weaved into music?” Sirius straightened up in front of you, whisper yelling “What? Wait, do you do that with your songs?” You felt your face heat up and leaned back into the cushiony couch. “Kind of. I’m trying — learning.”

Unfortunately, Sirius had let you know that he hadn’t heard of such thing in the castle. In fact, he didn’t think that spells in song was a concept known between wizard and witches in the UK. That would be something you’d have to change. However, he was kind enough to lead you to the library, where he insisted on staying with you to find all your books on the subject so that you’d have someone to guide you back to the common room. It was so that you wouldn’t get lost again, obviously.

The library didn’t seem to have much on the topic, despite its grand size. You sighed, putting the books you’d found on the table in front of you. Your aunt seemed to stand correct, the student was becoming the teacher. Sirius sat patiently at the table, watching you ponder silently for a moment. You opened the first book, scanning its table of contents, before shutting it closed again. “This isn’t going to work.” You mumbled, putting both hands on your hips. You chose one of the textbooks at random, shoving it in your bag and gesturing for Sirius to follow you. You trotted out of the library, ignoring Sirius’s claim that you had to sign the book out. “I’m just borrowing it!” You exclaimed, taking the first flight of stairs up. Sirius had trouble catching up with you, and was quickly lured into a hallway he didn’t recognise. A hallway on the fifth floor.

“What are we doing up here?” He asked, breathing heavily. You ignored his question, instead whispering under your breath “Where is it?” Sirius matched your pace as you came to a slow walk, pacing in circles around the same pillar. “I swear it was here.” “What was here?” Sirius asked, watching you. But his question was quickly answered for him when a big wooden door appeared on the empty wall in front of you both. Matching gasps left your lips, and Sirius cautiously watched as you walked up to the door, placing a hand on its peeling paint. “The music room.” You mumbled, finally pushing the door open.

Sirius followed you through the wooden door, jumping slightly when it slammed close behind him. His breath had been taken away. The room was enormous. It had a stage with a grand piano and several percussion and string instruments littered around the room. There were even muggle microphones, which he knew you often used in concerts, contrary to the normal amplification spell.

In all seven years at Hogwarts, Sirius and the marauders had restlessly tried looking for this room: the room of Come and Go. They had read about it, doubting its existence after years of failure. And here you were, not even three weeks into your time at Hogwarts, and you had found it. “This isn’t a music room,” Sirius started, looking around. Your footsteps came to a halt, and you spun around to face him with your eyebrows raised. “This is the room of requirements. I never thought I'd live to see it.” Sirius returned his attention to you, a glint in his eyes like he was eleven, seeing Honeydukes for the first time. He’d have to take you there one day.

“It gives you a room you want the most. And you… You really want somewhere to play your music.” He guessed, eyes filled with empathy. You hummed. “Not just play. Write, compose. Sing too loud sometimes and embarrass myself.” Sirius laughed, and you joined in until a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You spun on your feet and ran towards the stage, putting your hands on the floor of the stage and jumping so you could roll onto the elevated surface. Sirius followed you, equal ecstasy in his movements. Sirius sighed, staying laid down on the ground.

You grinned down at Sirius, a microphone now in your hand, and asked “Do you play any instruments, Mr. Black?” Sirius’s cheeks bloomed with a bright blush, and he sat up straight, shyly muttered “I play the piano.” You laughed, nodding at his words “Okay, I see. Pureblood parents force you to play? Let me guess, you have a sibling and they play the violin.” Sirius scoffed, muttering “Shut up” as he stood up, though his bold smile didn’t budge.

“I have skills. I’ll show you.” You hummed, unconvinced, watching as Sirius sat down in front of the grand piano, fingers skillfully resting on the keys. His fingers danced across the keys, and despite the years it’s been since he’s touched the instrument, he didn’t make a single mistake, shutting his eyes as he let the music flow through his veins. Sirius opened his eyes to glance up at you, and when he spotted the mesmerised smile on your face, he felt his fingers press all the wrong keys, causing an unpleasant sound to fill the room. “Sorry!” You both cried out, and Sirius furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I distracted you, I didn’t mean to.” Sirius shook his head, gesturing a hand towards you. “It’s your turn now.”

You and Sirius spent all night in the room of requirements, playing music and trying to teach him how to play the guitar. He took a particular interest in the electric one, which you immediately thought suited him. He was more than just a piano player. Sirius was a rockstar, whether he knew it yet or not.

“So tell me about this spell in song thing.” Sirius brought up after a long break from music. You had just returned from the kitchens, thankfully not too far from this hidden room, and had only narrowly missed some Professor who was doing their rounds. “Well, from what I’ve learned, you can either make the music to a song a spell, so that when the instruments are played together, a spell is cast. Or it could be the lyrics that are the spell. The difference between that and a normal spell is that the lyrics are real words, but our spells that we cast as witches and wizards are mostly latin. Never the spoken language that we use. But then it gets complicated, because if someone wants to replicate the spell, everything has to be the same. Each note, each harmony. Otherwise, the spell risks being a curse.”

Sirius was silent. He didn’t even have any questions. “Have you heard of the Ballad of the Witches’ Road?” You asked, and the boy nodded “You recorded your own version of it.” You grinned, nodding eagerly. “Well, the song was written centuries ago — no one knows by who or where it was written, but it became crazy popular. The original song wasn’t a spell, but then each version of it that was created afterwards had its own different spell. The sacred chant version uses the chant itself as the spell, but in the version that is most popular now, the guitar solo is a protection spell. I don’t know how it works, I really don’t.” Sirius’s mouth was gaped open, a silent question lingering in the air, but you refused to answer it if he didn't explicitly ask you. “And in your version?”

You cleared your throat, looking down at the guitar in front of you. “In my version, my voice is a love spell. I played it to my parents in hopes that they would fall back in love. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Over the next couple of weeks, you’d decided that you’d asked Sirius to come up with you to your music room too often. You were being a burden. If he wanted to come with you, he could always ask. You’d grown fond of the boy, and even his friends, though you never asked to sit with them. At breakfast, Sirius would wave you over, and you’d happily sit next to him, smiling and nodding along to the conversation, only ever speaking if a question was directed towards you.

In lessons, you’d sit and write song lyrics in a note book you took with you everywhere, and Professors loved to target you with bombardments of questions. You’d shut your book, tilt your head to the side and flawlessly answer every question thrown at you. They hated it, but it made Sirius smile. He was lucky that while people admired you in the hallways, he could call out your name, jog up next to you and hold enjoyable conversations with you. He even ditched his friends to go to Hogsmeade with you. When he’d asked you to come with the group, you stared at your hands, declining his offer respectfully.

“How about just us, then?”

“Sirius, you don’t have to ditch your friends for me.”

“But you are my friend.”

It hadn’t been a very successful outing, despite you and Sirius having a wonderful time. He took you to Honeydukes and smiled at the amazed expression on your face when you gasped. You dragged him over to the music store and signed a record of your album a young girl was buying. But when you both finally decided it was time to cozy up with a butterbeer, arms linked together, you met unpleasant company at the door of the three broomsticks.

Years of experience allowed you to spot reporters and journalists from a mile away. You stopped in your tracks, pulling Sirius back by the arm you had hooked with yours. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He had asked, following your line of sight. “Sirius, those are-” But it was too late, because they had finally seen you. The lady immediately sped towards you with a list of questions she was ready to ask whilst the man next to her pulled out an expensive camera and immediately started taking photos, the flash blinding you each time it went off. Sirius instantly tried shielding you from the pair, his hand slipping into yours so you wouldn’t lose him. Sirius dragged you into the popular pub, and by magic, Madame Rosemerta appeared and locked the door before the reporters could enter.

Sirius had immediately asked you if you were okay, but his question was drowned out by laughs coming from the other side of the pub. It was the same blond boy who had met you on the train, with his insolent group of friends who were joking about the encounter. Well, now you knew exactly who had ratted you out to the reporters. “Here, sweetheart.” Had said Sirius as he offered you a fresh butterbeer, but your mood had already been spoiled, and all you wanted to do was return to the castle.

“Look, Sirius, you’re wonderful, and I’ve had so much fun but-” your consistent glances towards the door had given what you wanted to say away, and Sirius nodded again. “Hey, I’ll walk back with you, okay?” Thankfully, the reporters were already gone by the time you left the pub, and you dug around in your pocket to pay Sirius for the butterbeer. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He had said, rejecting your two silver sickles.

Once in the castle once more, you hid in your dorm for the rest of the day, dreading the headline that would be on the papers tomorrow. Maybe they would scare Sirius away and he’ll stop spending time with you. Fuck, that would be the worst thing to ever happen to you, you thought, digging your head into your pillow.

You were very aware of your blooming feelings towards the curly-headed boy. In fact, every time you sat alone, or even in a lesson, and picked up a pencil, the only song lyrics you could thing about writing were about him. He invaded your mind, and usually, you wouldn’t complain about having some inspiration, but now? Well, you liked him so much you wanted him to collaborate on your music with you, to sing and to play with you. But you couldn’t do that if every single song you wrote was about falling head over heels for him.

Downstairs in the common room, Sirius was clenching his fists over the incident with the reporter. He went on about how you’d had so much fun together, all for it to be ruined by a two-minute encounter. “That shouldn’t happen to anyone! Fuck, I swear I’ll beat Malfoy up.” He said to his friends, letting his head fall back on the couch. James looked at him empathetically, but after a moment of silence, he shot a look to the other marauder who sat across from them, an idea suddenly popping up in his mind. Remus was already holding a quill in hand, parchment laid out in front of him.

“Hey, instead of beating that blond bitch up, how about we do something worse?”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

THE DAILY PROPHET

Heart of Chaos? More like heart of romance!

The young rockstar y/n l/n was seen cozying up with pureblood rebel Sirius Black at Hogsmeade on Sunday. As seen in the image, the couple was very physically close to each other, making fans wonder what is going on behind closed doors. Though we only have limited information on the topic, an anonymous source at Hogwarts has revealed to us this piece of information:

“Sirius Black is the only person she’ll speak to. Everyone is so welcoming to her, but she either spends time alone writing things, or she spends time with him. He’s probably the inspiration for her new album. I mean, you know how it is, the girl’s last album was literally called ‘Heart of Chaos’! All she does is probably write about boys!”

Everyone’s eyes were on you on Monday during breakfast, watching as you read the article about your so called love life. The worst part of the article wasn’t the assumption that you and Sirius were together, or that you were having sex ‘behind closed doors’. No, it was the assumption that your last album had been about boys when it had truly been about broken trust and personal healing. Hence, the Heart of Chaos.

Sirius noticed you hadn’t had anything to eat for breakfast, so when he saw you abruptly stand up, he pocketed an apple to bring to you later. He just hoped that Malfoy came down for breakfast before you left.

And indeed, an unrecognisable Lucius Malfoy ran down to the Great Hall just as you turned to face the entrance. Loud gasps and laughter was heard instantly at the sight of the disheveled teenager. Lucius had been transformed into your number one fan. His face had been made up for him to resemble a rock fan. A big, glittery, red star was painted around his eye, the other one sporting bold eyeshadow and liner. He wore heavy lashes that he couldn't tear off, and the best bit? Every single piece of clothing in the boy’s closet had been turned into merchandise you recently launched to promote your tour beginning this summer. In a desperate attempt to appear anywhere near normal, Lucius had begged Evan to lend him clothes, but the second he pulled the uniform on, it had also been transfigured into more merch.

“What have you done to me!?” He screamed over the laughter, marching over to the Gryffindor table, his gaze fixed on the marauders. You took confident strides towards Lucius until you stood right in front of him, blocking his route towards the three boys. The hall went silent when you put your hands on your hips, everyone listening closely to what you had to say. “And for the record, Malfoy, my last album wasn’t about boys, which I thought you might know considering you have been so far up my ass recently, you could practically see what I had for dinner last night.” You walked away from Malfoy as he stood in the middle of the Great Hall, an embarrassed flush on his face.

“Don’t worry,” Announced Sirius, standing up and beginning to follow you. “It wears off after 72 hours… I think.”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

Sirius was only able to find you a few hours later in the room of requirements, separated by clashing schedules. Sirius pulled the apple out of his pocket, offering it to you when he finally reached you. “Didn’t see you eat this morning.” You jumped at the sound of Sirius’s voice, a wide smile on our face as you shut your book, pushing it aside and making space for Sirius next to you. When Sirius sat, he wasn’t expecting you to throw your arms around him, engulfing him in a tight hug. “Thank you.” You mumbled into the crook of his neck. “Hey, why should you be embarrassed for something he did? Also, I’ve got to say your comment was beautiful.” “What, about him seeing my dinner?” Sirius laughed as you let go of him, throwing an arm around you and tugging you in closer to him.

“So, it doesn’t change anything for you?” You whispered to him, afraid of his response. “Why would a little gossipy article change anything for me? Whatever this is, it doesn’t need a reporter to put labels on it. So, tell me what you’re working on.” “I- just a song.” Sirius heard the wobble in your voice, but decided not to ask about it, watching as you wiped at your eyes. “Um, a song I actually wanted you to sing.” Sirius made a sound of surprise in his throat. “Love, you know I don’t sing.” Your laugh surprised him. “Yes you do, you just don’t know it yet.”

Sirius watched as you jumped up from your place on the couch “This song is a little different to what I usually write and perform.” You told him, pulling out your wand and grabbing the sheets of music from the table. You muttered a spell, enchanting each instrument to play its own part before you finally grabbed your electric guitar and lyric sheet.

The second your fingers strummed the guitar, all the instruments came to life in a melody that Sirius instantly knew would change the world as you knew it. Then, you began singing the lyrics, your voice as light as an angel for a tune that didn’t match it.

“I wanted to be with you alone

And talk about the weather,”

And Sirius was instantly in love. Not that he hadn’t been before, no. Sirius had realised that meeting his heroes wasn’t always a bad thing since he sat down with you in the middle of a staircase. You’d looked at him with angel eyes, looking to him for comfort when speaking to his other friends. Sirius was lost in a trance as you observed him now as you sang, watching for each and every reaction. You cleared your throat nervously when you got to the chorus.

“Something happens and I'm head over heels

I never find out until I'm head over heels

Something happens and I'm head over heels

Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart

Don't, don't, don't throw it away”

Sirius’s mouth was agape. He pieced the song together, you figured. He stood up from his spot, walking over to you and putting his hands on your guitar. The second you stopped playing, the rest of the instruments died down too, putting an end to your never ending song. You let Sirius take your guitar from you, passing the thick strap over your head so he could put it to the side. “You want me to sing it?” Sirius whispered, his face mere inches away from yours. You nodded “Can only imagine it in your voice.”

“You know, it's fitting, because I really am head over heels for you.” You gasped at Sirius’s words, moving your gaze down to your feet but his hand was already at your chin, gently pushing your chin up so you could meet his eyes again. “I really wanted to kiss you in the great hall today.” You muttered, and Sirius grinned. “So did I. I love myself a woman who will stand up for herself.” “So you’ll sing the song?”

“How about you let me get that kiss first?” You felt your cheeks get hot as Sirius leaned down to press his lips against yours. Your hands immediately gripped his crinkled uniform shirt, pulling his chest flat against yours. He moved a hand to the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he slid his tongue in your mouth. You pressed yourself onto your tippy toes, but just as you wrapped your arms around Sirius’s shoulders, he broke the kiss, saying with a wide grin “How about you teach me this song, yeah?”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

WIZARDS WEEKLY

Y/N L/N has begun her ‘Heart of Chaos: World Tour’, and fans were not surprised to see who she brought on stage.

Rumours of the singer-songwriter’s romance with Sirius Black started when she first moved to England to live with her aunt. The couple were spotted in Scotland’s very own Hogsmeade village, near the Hogwarts castle. Those rumours started around February 1978, and it is now September. The rockstar’s first show of the year-long tour was last night on June 10th, and fans went absolutely crazy. To open her second set l/n brought Sirius Black, her rumoured boyfriend, on stage with her, and they sang their newest collaborative song ‘Head over Heels’.

In a recent interview, l/n shared that her tour would be the start of something big, and it seems as though ‘Head over Heels’ is the beginning of that. The singer said that whilst she wrote and produced the entire song and its music, she felt as though the song would be perfect for someone else — that someone whom we now know is Sirius Black. However, when the pair of wizards sang ‘Head over Heels’ together, a strange phenomenon occurred. It seemed as though people in the audience became calmer, and there was more than one instance of people kissing during the audience. Whilst this isn’t exactly odd during concerts, our reporters noticed that this only occurred during the one song, and nowhere else in the show.

Experts are theorising that y/n l/n isn’t only one of the most talented artists of this new generation, but one of the most powerful witches too, embedding spells in songs, for instance, a love spell in 'Head over Heels'. This is often seen in music in North America, however l/n is introducing it to the rest of the world for the first time.

Sirius Black stayed with her on stage for the rest of the show, singing background vocals and playing the electric guitar to create the most magical duet people have witnessed in a long time. At the end of the show, they confirmed the old rumours started by an anonymous source, sharing a passionate kiss on stage in front of thousands upon thousands of fans. l/n revealed what the tour was starting — or rather ending, during the final moments of her first show of the ‘Heart of Chaos: World Tour’.

This tour would be her last as a solo artist.

At the end of the tour, she will be joining a group called ‘Marauders of Mischief’, in which her boyfriend Sirius Black will be the lead guitarist. l/n and Black revealed to us that the other three members of the band would be Remus Lupin, James Potter and Marlene McKinnon, all of whom l/n met whilst she studied at Hogwarts for less than a year. When asked in an interview about how this band was formed, l/n opened up about a lot of details.

Y/N L/N: Truly, I didn’t speak to Remus, James or Marls much when I was at Hogwarts. But towards the end of the year, I opened up more, and when they discovered that Sirius and I were writing music together, they showed an interest. We spent a day in the music room together, and we instantly knew that we were forming a band. And James’s lovely fiancé, one of my best friends, Lily Evans is our manager, and you know, it’s the six of us against the world. I don’t want to spoil too much, but since I’ve become an independent artist, they’ve been helping me — and Sirius — out with this tour. So they’re on tour with us right now as our sort of ‘backstage team’ which means that we get to spend every day together. And that means we’ve spent a lot of time writing and producing music. So, stay tuned for what we release.

Coming circa 1979.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @friedfreyfries, @azure-drag0ness

divider by @v6que

[isagrimorie]

I’ve been watching video reviews praising Agatha All Along, and while I more or less agree with their points, one thing that bothers me is the claim that Agatha remained 100% evil, and she didn't change, and that doesn’t sit right with me.

Agatha didn’t have a redemption arc (or as Schaeffer put it, “This lady did not arc out.”), and I understand why. In fact, I love that about her character. The show doesn’t try to sand down Agatha’s sharp edges. I love that Agatha can feel so deeply while still being unapologetically a dick.

But the reason it bothers me when people claim that Agatha didn’t change is because she did.

To put it into context, for a character who hasn’t changed and remains firmly on a villainous path, the reviewers should look at another comic book show that aired at the same time: The Penguin. While it’s not an exact comparison, there are notable similarities: both main characters love purple (sorry, Oz, I mean plum), have a fascinating, wide-eyed, unhinged brunette antagonist, a teen sidekick, and a ruthless quest for power. But there are key differences between Agatha Harkness and Oswald Cobblepot.

The Penguin is the story of Oswald’s rise to power as Gotham’s crime boss. Agatha, on the other hand, was already at the height of her power and villainy. Over 300 years, she killed fellow witches, schemed, and connived. This all came to an abrupt halt when Wanda trapped her in a hex. With the help of Rio and Billy, Agatha eventually clawed her way free from Wanda’s distorted spell.

Initially, it seemed like nothing had changed for Agatha.

But Agatha did change. The Agatha Harkness of three years ago—the witch killer—wouldn’t have sat around a campfire trading stories and feeling emotional about it. She wouldn’t have felt any remorse for accidentally killing Alice.

(It’s funny how, between Rio and Agatha, Agatha reminded me more of Dream than Rio. Both are capricious and prone to holding grudges. Both were held captive by mystical forces and when freed, they denied they had changed—even though their captivity altered them in both small and profound ways. In the end, both characters die because of their capacity to change and are reborn, metaphorically or literally, wearing white.)

I appreciated that the show didn’t dull Agatha’s sharp edges. She was, and remains, a killer. Even when we get glimpses of Agatha’s tragic backstory with Nicky, the show doesn’t excuse her actions. She was a killer before Nicky, during her time with Nicky, and after Nicky. In fact, she became an even more prolific serial killer after Nicky. Her contempt for fellow witches deepened every time they fell for her road scam.

So, it’s tiring hearing that “Agatha didn’t change.” The ending of Agatha All Along made it clear that while she didn’t change—because such a drastic shift can’t happen in just nine episodes for someone with a 300-year history—there was, as Jac Schaeffer put it, progress.

Agatha never considered the consequences of her actions. For example, when she tried to avoid harming Jennifer Kale back when she was a rootworker and midwife, she inadvertently hurt Jennifer for a century.

Agatha spent her life trying to fill the gnawing black hole inside her, running from pain and avoiding anything resembling personal growth. She finds the Darkhold, and she becomes invisible to Rio, her remaining connection to her life with Nicky.

And, even when the world around her burned, nothing truly touched Agatha Harkness—until she found herself in the Hex, facing off against the Scarlet Witch.

Agatha was overconfident. Armed with her vast knowledge and the Darkhold, she thought she was invincible. But she miscalculated, becoming powerless and losing three years trapped in Agnes the Nosy Neighbor's life.

This disruption in Agatha's pattern is enough that when Agatha was about to restart her Killing Game, it gave Agatha pause. When Alice shows up at her house hoping to visit the Road, only to end up dead in Agatha’s basement.

There was even a moment when Agatha went to recruit Sharon Davis as a replacement backup Green Witch, she had to take a moment to confirm to herself that she could live with killing Mrs. Hart.

Agatha’s story (for this season, at least-- because there will be another season or sequel, dammit) wasn’t a redemption—nine episodes isn’t enough to atone for 300 years of killing. It's a story of moving Agatha into a position to transform. Or, as Jac Schaeffer called it, progress. Redemption may come later, but progress isn’t linear. For someone who is an unrepentant killer and con artist, even the smallest shift is big.

Agatha All Along doesn’t try to make Agatha into a hero, nor does it attempt to soften her sharp edges. Instead, the show offers a nuanced portrait—a reminder that even an unrepentant bad guy can evolve, even if they don’t fully understand or accept it themselves.

Agatha Harkness might not be “redeemed” but she isn’t the same either.

[riovidalharkness]

Agathario AU | Agatha decides she needs a new landscaper to improve the way her yard looks. She wants to make her house the best-looking one in the neighborhood. She hires Rio Vidal, a landscaper everyone raves about. As Rio works, she notices Agatha peaking through the window at her.

[batcavescolony]

I see a lot of people upset about William Kaplan being dead and no one mourning him cus Billy stole his body and I just don't see it that way. The kid in Wanda Vision is Billy Maximoff, The teenager at the Bar Mitzvah is William Kaplan, the Teen that got taken to the hospital after the wreck is neither and both Billy Maximoff and William Kaplan. That Teen went home with the abilities of Billy Maximoff, to the home of William Kaplan, with memories of neither and lived there for three years. He cares about Rebecca and Jeff, he lied to the to protect them from pain, they are his parents. He wants to find Tommy, he has magical powers, he wants to know who he is. All of these things are true. I wouldn't say William Kaplan is dead he just doesn't remember, like Agatha wasn't dead when he was Agnes, she just didn't remember.

[aparticularbandit]

If Rio is Death and is after Billy for escaping his death.

If Rio cannot kill Agatha.

If they maintain the end of the initial Road story.

I think we might see an Agatha sacrifice for Billy.

Because she would be keeping him alive when she couldn't keep Nicholas alive.

Because dying might mean she could be with Rio.

Because finding a way to reverse her siphoning would mean that she can control it.

Because Rio cannot kill Agatha.

(Rio cannot kill; Rio takes what is already dead.)

Because if Agatha dies, Billy can probably bring her back.

If Billy dies, Agatha cannot bring him back.

[snowangeldotmp3]

anyway. au where wanda tells agatha she can bring nicky back in westview so agatha can be happy there. agatha still has to get wanda to take the hex down, but….would it really be so bad to live in the fantasy for a little while? just so she could see her boy again?

[aaplecore]

Babysitting

(Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

Summary: Agatha—your long time neighbor and crush—agreed to take on the tiring job of watching Wanda’s twins for the weekend. Of course she needs some way to de-stress.

Warnings/tags: no smut, just a couple of minor nsfw moments

Notes: Hiii !! This is my first ever post so I have almost no idea how this works or if this is any good… but wtv :)

If you have any tips or suggestions pls share them but also if you have any reqs or ideas (aus, plots, characters, etc) PLEASE tell me !!

Anyway, I hope you like this short, silly little thing <33

It was eight thirty at night. On a Friday. And, for some reason, Agatha Harkness was incessantly dialing you.

For a few years now, you and Agatha had been nextdoor neighbors—to her left—in Westview. It was the perfect town. Almost like living in a sitcom. But, the best part about it was her. You were always over at her house or inviting her over for a glass of wine, talking for hours about anything and everything. She was witty, sarcastic and quite confident—although it definitely worked for her. Each time you two hung out, you felt a familiar flutter in your chest and when she smiled that damn smile a heat between your legs. Plus, you could’ve sworn she was flirting with you. Each time you were together, you’d hear some variation of:

“What a pretty little thing you are… how has someone not scooped you up yet?”

“Well, don’t you look beautiful today? Is this all for me, love?”

“I swear, no one in this neighborhood has any sense of style other than the two of us, doll.”

In that same low, almost gravely, beautiful voice. You figured that was just how she acted around everyone. You just… weren’t quite used to it.

Anyway, you weren’t entirely sure why your neighbor would need your help… especially this late at night. Due to your little crush—and god, that felt so high-school to say, but there really was no better explanation—that you’d been harboring for some time now, your mind was wandering to non-safe-for-work places. But of course it wasn’t that. At least you figured it couldn’t be that.

…And of course it wasn’t (to your dismay). Agatha sounded either like she was about to crush something or start screaming when you finally picked up after the third ring.

“Hi, hon, I need you to come over to Wanda’s house. To the right of mine. I’m… well, i’m having some trouble with the twins. If I don’t have another sane adult to talk to, I will lose my shit. Don’t ask, okay?”

She said quickly, leaving no room for you to argue (not that you would have anyway). Your only question was: why Wanda’s house? And what was Agatha doing with the twins?

Even despite the questions swirling in your mind, you packed up your purse and headed over to Wanda’s house, only a few doors down from yours. As per usual, the lawn was perfectly manicured, nicely trimmed shrubs leading up the pathway to the entrance. You always wondered how she managed to keep it so perfect.

Anyway, after ogling at her house, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for it to open. The only cue that someone was coming was the quick, loud footsteps racing to the door… faster than anyone’s normally should be. Before you could even begin to question what that was about, the door swung open and you saw Tommy standing there, looking up at you. He just… stood and blinked for a second.

“Aunt Agnes! There’s a girl here, what do I do?”

He called out, turning back to look at Agatha… who was walking down the stairs, her normally perfectly kept—and absolutely stunning—dark brown hair was tied up into a messy bun. She was wearing black jeans and a purple sweater over a purple button up with her classic locket pin. And god damn, it shouldn’t be legal for anyone to look this good in that outfit.

She rushed up to the door when she saw you, finally taking a deep breath. Before you could open your mouth to say anything, she is whisking you inside, her arm around your shoulder and the other rubbing your arm. Her hands were warm, and her grip on you was firm. The feeling of her gangly caressing your arm made the butterflies in your stomach flutter for just a second.

“Thank gods you’re here. These kids are going to be the death of me.”

She hissed at you, guiding you into the kitchen so she could at least hide behind a wall and make sure the twins couldn’t hear her—and, really, even disheveled she still looked hot. Distractingly so.

“Wanda and Vision are away for the weekend. They asked me to babysit—god knows why—and did not tell me how goddamn energetic their kids are. I swear to god they’re running on endless batteries.”

She huffs, leaning against the counter opposite to where you’re standing. For a second, you look down to the way her arms look with the sleeves of her purple sweater pulled up. But you quickly pull your eyes back to hers. You’re here to help, not to ogle.

“And… you called me why, exactly?”

You ask, crossing your arms like hers, mirroring the position on the opposite counter.

Agatha just smiles back at you, the grin on her face nothing short of devilish.

“Well, doll, you must know I think you’re quite a… beautiful girl, right?”

She asks, standing off of the counter, looking down at you just a little due to the height difference. You only nod in response.

“Right, so… I figured you could help me… de-stress. I’ve got the boys playing hide and seek and their bedtime is at 9. It’s…”

She glances down at her watch.

“It’s 8:45. Fifteen more minutes, then they’ll be fast asleep… and we have the house to ourselves. It’s high-time we got a little girls time.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at you in a way that tells you she isn’t just asking you to play truth or dare and try an ouija board. For a second, you look as confused as Tommy had when he first opened the door, just blinking at her, your face already hot thinking about what that could possibly mean. What you want it to mean.

“What?”

You ask simply, shaking your head in disbelief. She takes a step closer.

“Listen, hon, do you think i’ve missed the way you stare at me whenever I come over for a glass of wine? I’m not an idiot, darling.”

She laughs, still smirking at you.

“And we both know you understand what i’m asking.”

She is… blunt. That’s for sure. You never expected a call for babysitting help would result in… this. You never even thought this was a possibility. You open your mouth to say something but, before you can, she cuts you off again, coming closer and snaking her hand around your waist, causing a shiver down your spine and a flush to your cheeks.

“By all means, tell me to stop. We can forget about all of this if you want to. I just get the sense that you don’t want to, hm?”

She gingerly tilts your chin up slightly, and by the way she looks at you, you’d guess she’s examining each and every detail of your face. Like she’s trying to memorize the view.

“Right.”

You quickly nod. Agatha smile turns wider, and she grips your waist slightly tighter, pulling you in closer to her while simultaneously holding you against the counter. Her other hand moves from your chin to your neck, and she begins gently running her hand through the hair there, smiling as she does. For a moment, you just stand there like that, her body pressed against yours, tracing light patterns onto your waist, looking down at you like… well, like prey.

“I- I just didn’t think… you would ever think of me that way.”

You stutter, shaking your head as you look at her. She cocks her head to the side as if you’d just asked her for the answer to an obvious question.

“Oh, love, i’ve been flirting with you for months now… was I not obvious enough?”

She asks, laughing quietly, leaning down to speak closer to your ear.

“Anyway, that’s exactly what I was hopping to hear, darling… Although i’m hoping to hear a lot more coming from you later tonight.”

She mutters, leaning in closer to you with a smirk, so that your lips are almost touching. You can feel her breath against your face, smell her perfume—something floral, but woody—and feel the ghost of her lips against yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest and all you want is for her to pull you in just a little more… but she doesn’t. Instead, she drops her hand down to your hip and whispers in your ear again,

“Ten more minutes until the boys bedtime. Then i’ll have my way with you, hon.”

She practically purrs, gripping your hip just a bit tighter, running her lips from your ear down your neck, brushing over your pulse point just enough to make you shiver…before suddenly letting go and walking away as if nothing had happened, a smug smile on her face.

“Meet me in the guest room in ten, doll.”

Still, your heart was beating, your face surely flushed scarlet red by now. You missed her touch. The way she gipped your hip had you clenching around nothing already… and this time none of it was fantasy.

By the time you’d finally got a grip on the situation, you were already walking around to find the guest room. Just to help Agatha de-stress, of course.

[lilithschosen]

🥺🫴🏻 can I have some more good boy butch!Agatha with her collar and leash and a pretty new muzzle so she doesn't bite and devour Vidal like the feral carnal freak she is? 🫶🏻🥺

she's a good boy, she says. you should totally believe her and take the muzzle off, she says. i dunno about you but uhhhhh that shits staying on for the time being 😤

It's the primal look she hits Rio with across the dinner table that put her in this mess. The slow drag of her tongue across her canine tooth as she watches Rio crane her neck to read the wine bottle on Agatha's side of the table. How she hoped Rio missed it, but prayed she didn't.

Without any commotion, Rio blots at the corners of her mouth with the napkin and stands from the table. The only thing Agatha can hear is the sound of Rio's heels against hardwood and her heartbeat screaming in her ears.

She grips at the steak knife, stabbing it into her rare steak before slicing off a thick chunk of meat. She doesn't bother with the fork, prodding the meat with the knife and stuffing it into her mouth. She stares back at the plate, the partially eaten meal barely filling her in the ways she needs to be filled.

"Eyes up."

Her head snaps to Rio, standing in front of her with various leather items in hand. Rio raises a brow in question, her tongue poking into the side of her mouth. Her bright red lipstick was perfect in comparison to the smokey eyeshadow she had done for their date night. Their anniversary dinner night.

They didn't want to get another restaurant date and instead Agatha opted to cook for them both. To be fair, she knocked the meal out of the park and it was cheaper and easier to get literally everything the two of them would be craving.

"Sit back."

She slams the knife down on the table and pushes her chair out. She slouches back in the chair, head tilting up as she sucks the leftover taste of steak from her teeth.

Her teeth itch, begging to be dragging across Rio's throat. To be sunk deep into her shoulder, her thighs. To bite and taste and consume.

Rio approaches her from the side, stoic and sturdy as she stops and pulls her collar out from the various items she carried to the dining room. With one hand she drapes it around Agatha's throat and secures it with expert fingers, tightening it just enough that it wouldn't sit comfortably. Agatha growls, a sound reverberating deep in her chest.

She's happy she didn't opt for the tie tonight, pairing it with the white button up and black slacks. Instead she simply kept the top two buttons of the shirt undone, giving Rio ample view of her cleavage and the lack of a bra underneath.

"You were doing so well," Rio's voice was honest but Agatha couldn't help but catch the sarcasm dipped words. "I thought you'd manage to get through the whole meal without an incident."

Agatha snarls, "The fuck do you mean?"

Rio points, wagging her finger as she shakes her head. "That. Right there, that's what I mean."

She unfurls the leash, the black one matching the collar, and sets it on the table. Agatha glares at the leash as if it cursed her, too preoccupied by her disdain for it to even notice what Rio begins to fasten around her face.

A short, metal cage sits over her mouth. She tries to widen her jaw, rolling it around in an attempt to wriggle free from the contraption but Rio slips the buckle tighter than the collar and leans down to face her. Agatha snaps her jaw shut, surging forward until the muzzle presses into Rio's nose.

"I got all dressed up for you," Rio says, reaching to take Agatha's hand in hers before she runs it down her chest. The dress she wore had a gap between her breasts, her heart open and bare for Agatha beneath her soft skin. "You could've had your cake and eaten it too."

As Agatha's fingers ghost down Rio's body, she groans. "I can still eat. Take this off of me."

Rio laughs, a reserved little chuckle. As if she shouldn't have laughed but couldn't help it. She pats the back of Agatha's head between the straps that hold the muzzle up. "I don't think I should do that, baby. You haven't proven to me you're my good boy."

Rio reaches for the leash, pulling at the latch before she hooks it to the o-ring on the front of Agatha's collar. Agatha stares up at her with intense, black eyes. Her tongue whips out again, running across her front teeth before flashing perfect pearly whites.

"You'll learn to behave," Rio tugs at the leash, making Agatha stand abruptly. "One way or another, you'll learn."

[humofbumblebees]

hey, you guys think about how agatha’s probably so mad at rio because she didn’t get to say goodbye to nicky

[isagrimorie]

Did you not see the imminent impalement in your future?!

Agatha All Along 1x07 - Death's Hand in Mine

[iamnotoriginalphil]

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

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

Words: 7.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She did not pay you any attention.

“Ah, there you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Clever girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It only made you try harder.

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

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

“Hello to you too,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever,” he spat, “frigid bitch.”

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

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

“Sounds exhausting,” she said.

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

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

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” you snapped.

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

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

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

You shook her hand off you.

“I’ll see you around.”

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

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

“You’re out late.”

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

“I was at a party,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m over 21,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me your thoughts.”

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

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

“No,” you said.

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

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

Nor the way you yearned for more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Call you what?” you asked.

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

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

“Agatha is fine,” she said.

“Okay,” you replied, “Agatha.”

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

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

“I’m glad you did too,” you said.

“Of course you are, pet,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, pet.”

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

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

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

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

“It is, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s mine,” she said.

“What?”

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

“Are you coming or what?” she asked.

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

“Do you want tea?” she asked.

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

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

“And then?” you asked.

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

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

“Stop apologising,” she snapped.

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

“Come on then.”

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

“There you go, kitten,” she murmured.

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Agatha,” you whispered.

“Yes, pet?” she asked.

“I want you,” you confessed.

“I know.”

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

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

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

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

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

“Go on,” she encouraged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so close,” you whimpered.

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

“But-“ you tried to argue.

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

“Yes,” you replied, whiney and desperate.

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

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

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

“Agatha,” you sobbed, “please.”

Blue eyes stared up at you, dark and dangerous.

“Please,” you begged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you might want me to leave.”

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

“Come here.”

You didn’t move.

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

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

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

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

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

You trembled.

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

“Yes,” you breathed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you want, Agatha,” you whispered.

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

Turns out, all you wanted was her too.

[natashashill]

mama’s girl

pairing: perv neighbor!agatha x reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ kinda dun-con, manipulation, pervy acts: stealing underwear and hidden camera, guided masturbation, guided a lot of things actually, lots of titty sucking (& play), pussy eating & fingering, orgasm control, bondage, marking, possessive agatha, edging, age gap, & stalking lmk if i missed anything

a/n: this is definitely a dark fic so read at your own risk! also just a reminder that my page is not for minors <3

summary: you introduced yourself to your new neighbor and she takes a liking to you

You had moved into a new apartment after graduating college, and decided to introduce yourself to people living across the hall. You were absolutely thrilled when the door opened, and an older brunette woman opened the door. All thoughts of yours went out the window as she greeted you hello.

“Hi- Hi! I’m Y/N, I just moved in across the hall and I just wanted to introduce myself. I- uh made you some cookies as a sign of good faith. I’m trying to make some friends or uh at least friendly faces. Umm yeah so if you ever need anything I’ll be across the hall.”

“Thank you very much sweetheart. That’s quite a sweet gesture hun. Why don’t I tell you what, why don’t we do dinner sometime together? Would that be okay with you sweetness?”

“Yes! We can do dinner at mine this Friday at 7 if that works, I’ve been meaning to try out a few recipes if that’s okay with you.”

“Perfectly fine, I’ll see you on Friday honey.”

You giddly skipped back to your room, unaware of the thoughts swirling in Agatha’s head. You had made quite the impression on her. After you left, Agatha had to take quite a few breaths after seeing you. You were such a sweet and innocent sight, and she just had to have you for herself. She couldn’t wait for Friday, she had the perfect opportunity to start leaving her claim on you. She took a bite out of your cookie, and fuck, she couldn’t wait for Friday. 

The rest of the week dragged around slowly for both of you. You couldn’t shake your hot neighbor out of your head, although you felt guilty for crushing on her. Opposingly, Agatha has been keeping tabs on you, she’s found where you work and found your socials online. She spent a significantly long time through your Instagram, enjoying herself while discovering the bikini pics you’ve posted from your last vacation.

When it’s time to head over on Friday, she carries a larger than necessary bag. You let her inside, your stomach swirling at the sight of her dressed up. She greets you with a hug and a kiss on each cheek, and your breath catches in your throat. She hands you a bottle of wine she brought over, and you hurriedly rush into the kitchen to break it open. She uses this opportunity to take a look around your house, finding her way into the bedroom. She immediately starts on pulling out the secret camera she brought, placing it onto one of your picture frames facing your bed. Making sure you didn’t come back, she starts going through your drawers until she finds your underwear drawer, digging through and grabbing a few to take home. She stuffs them into her purse and starts to take a look around your room, observing all the decorations you have up. 

You walk into your room and see her observing a picture of yours.

“Agatha? What are you doing in here?”

“Oh sweetheart, forgive me. I was trying to find your bathroom to freshen up and came in here instead. I saw these adorable pictures and got distracted.”

A small blush forms at your cheeks at her comments and you guide her back towards your living room. She flashes you a grateful smile at the glass of wine and you can feel yourself falling for her with every passing moment. Dinner went smoothly, and you sighed in relief when Agatha showed signs that she enjoyed your food. She moaned out in delight at your cooking, and your cheeks flushed even further when your mind thought of where else she would make those noises. Dessert continued to be a success and she thanked you for the beautiful meal. 

You both talk for quite a bit that night, Agatha trying to find out anything she could about you. You found it sweet how Agatha took so much interest in you, asking you many questions about your life. You answered her questions honestly and started rambling about your life to her. Agatha looked at you so sweetly but there was something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. You brushed it off, blaming it on the wine. Agatha’s delighted at all the information you gave for her including that you’re single, you started a new job as a receptionist, and you’ve just moved here away from most of your friends and family. The night goes swimmingly with both of you laughing and chatting about work and it’s past midnight when Agatha leaves your apartment. She heads straight to the bedroom, not bothering to take off her shoes before unzipping her dress and taking one of your panties out of her bag. 

She starts to grind against your panties, the lace feeling heavenly against her clit as she moans out your name. The thoughts of you tonight flashing your precious eyes at her takes her over the edge, and she collapses against her bed, she decides she’ll clean up tomorrow.

She runs into you tomorrow while you’re about to leave your apartment, finding you dressed up in a tight dress and some heels.

“Oh, hi Agatha. I’m headed out for a date right now. This girl asked me out today while I was getting my coffee. I have to go now but I’ll see you around. We should grab dinner sometime, I’ll text you!”

Agatha bids you goodbye, wishing you good luck before entering her place and heading straight to the bedroom. She fishes out another pair of panties of yours and puts it on while grabbing a vibrator and placing over her clothed clit, grinding and bucking as her juices leaked out and into your panties. She pulls out her phone and opens the app connected to the camera in your room. She scrolls back to the footage from earlier today, watching you get ready. She nearly came as soon as she saw you, but took her time as she watched you get ready, enjoying the way your precious body looked. Her orgasm fell over her in waves, desperation rolled over her as she had to have you. 

The next time you both get together, Agatha makes sure to dress to get your attention. She knows that you have a small crush on her, but she needs you desperate for her. It seemed to have worked, as Agatha noticed your eyes on her the entire night, even stuttering over your words a little when she decided to hold eye contact with you. Your heart nearly stopped when she went to wipe a food stain near your lips, licking her finger before gently wiping it off. She pats your cheek before she heads back to your seat, and she knows she has you hooked. 

“So honey, how’s everything going with you? Anyone you’ve been intimate with recently? You’ve been going on quite a few dates.”

Your face heats up at her question and you just duck your head out of embarrassment. You’ve never actually had sex with someone before and you were sure Agatha would laugh at you, obviously she was expecting to share and reflect on details of both of your sex lives. You look up at her sheepishly and she tilts her head curiously.

“I- uh well, I’ve never actually had sex with someone. It sounds stupid but I’ve never found someone to do it with and I’m too scared I’ll be bad at it now.”

“Oh sweetheart, you poor thing. Let me help you sweetheart. I’ll teach you all you need to know and show you exactly what it feels like.”

“You would do that for me? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you’re probably not interested in a girl like me.”

“Nonsense sweetheart. I’ll help a sweet thing like you out. We can start off with weekly lessons and adjust as needed, we can do them on Fridays, right around this time. Here, why don’t we just get started right now. I want you to undress for me sweetheart while making eye contact, and take your time with it.”

You followed her directions exactly, locking eyes with her while slowly lifting your shirt up. At the pleased smile on her face, you shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you half-naked under her gaze. 

“Very good sweetheart, now why don’t you take off your bra for me. We’ll start easy for today, only playing with your boobs. A very important rule I have sweetheart, is that you will not touch yourself unless I give you permission, do you understand me? I don’t want you to explore by yourself sweetheart, you might hurt yourself.”

You nodded while undoing the clasp for the bra, letting your perky boobs show. 

“Very good darling, now I want you to hold them and move them around slowly, and see how it feels.”

“Feels good.”

“Oh and one more thing sweetheart, you’re going to start addressing me as mommy from now on, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy, I understand.”

“Good girl, go ahead and squeeze them for me. Take your time and squeeze.”

You were a bit confused and tried to squeeze them but it didn’t feel right. 

“Here honey, let me help you. Just hold your tits up for me sweetheart, I’ll show you how to pleasure yourself.”

You feel a certain wetness as she walks over to you and grabs both of your tits with your hands. You let her squeeze and grab and pull as she wanted, the pleasure clouding over your brain. 

“Now sweetheart, I’m going to lick your nipples okay? I promise you’re going to feel so good baby, let mommy show you.”

You nodded and she brings her mouth to your left tit, engulfing your perked up nipple. You let out a small moan when you feel her start to suck. You can feel her smirk and chuckle around your nipple and let out a small apology. 

“No need sweetheart. Moan as loud as you want for me baby, I wanna hear those pretty noises coming out of your mouth.”

With that she switches over to your right nipple, giving just as much attention as she gave your left. You let out breathy moans for her and she starts to suck even harder. She guides you to lay down on the sofa while worshipping your breasts, making sure you’d be thinking about her for the next week.

She pulls away from your tits, a trail of saliva connecting her mouth to you before she eagerly connects your lips. She moans into the kiss as she sucks at your bottom lip, and you open your mouth letting her inside. She completely dominates the kiss and it turns you fuzzy. You kiss back passionately, trying to please her the best you could. She doesn’t let you breathe, too focused on claiming your lips. She eventually pulls away, pupils dilated and breath heavy. 

“Baby, it’s your turn now. I want you to practice what you just learned, okay? Practice on mama sweetheart.”

Agatha pulls down her zipper and exposes her tits to you, she had omitted her bra for the night. She guided your head to one of her nipples, and you eagerly latched on. You loved this position, being so close to Agatha had your mind blanking. The only thing you could think about was staying close to Agatha, your hands roaming her tits, exploring and playing as you eagerly continued sucking on Agatha. You switched your mouth over to her other nipples and renewed sucking, moaning at the action. Agatha couldn’t believe her luck, how easily you fell into her, and how much you loved this. It would be so easy to just have you spread your legs apart and let Agatha finger you have you fall apart on her lap. The thought had her mind reeling and she realized it was time to cut it off for the night, before she couldn't control herself anymore. 

When she pulls you away, you look up at her pouting, eager to go back to what you were doing. Agatha tells you it’s enough for the first lesson, and we can carry on next week. She gently cups your cheek before kissing you goodbye. You stand up with her, putting on your bra before seeing her out the door. You give a small wave goodbye before heading into bed, your mind running blank at the events of the evening. The rest of the week went no better for you, you could barely focus on work, only thinking about the next time you would see Agatha. 

Agatha was seeming to handle the gap a lot better than you, using your lacy underwear and her toys to get herself while thinking of how easily you trusted her to touch you. She couldn’t wait for your lesson this week.

When Friday rolled around, you put on your prettiest set of lingerie, hoping it would impress Agatha. You were a skimpy dress, one that would be easier for Agatha. You had everything perfectly set up for when she arrived, and now you were just waiting for her to knock on your door. See Agatha wanted to fuck with you a bit, she knew that you’d be so eager and pliant for her, but she had to keep you just as desperate for her. She purposely arrived a few minutes late, knowing your brain would be just that much happier to see her. 

You welcomed her with a hug before moving back to the couch, waiting for her next move. You were surprised to see her sit so close to you, but you weren’t complaining when you saw the low cut top she was wearing again. 

“Now sweetheart, today’s lesson is going to be very up close and personal. I need you to trust mommy to show you what to do and let mommy make the best decisions for you, alright? As a reward, if you’re good for mama, I’ll let you play with mama’s nipples again. You be good for me and you can play again since you liked that so much.”

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be good for you.”

“That’s my girl, let’s get you out of this dress hm?” When Agatha saw what you wore underneath your dress, she was in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that you were trying to seduce her, “What’s this sweetheart? You were trying to get mommy all worked up hm? Did you think this would help you?”

“No- no mommy. I just wanted you to like me and I thought you would like it if I wore something pretty.”

Agatha smiled at you, of course you had just wanted to please her, you were her innocent girl after all.

“Alright sweetheart, I’m going to remove your panties now. I want you to keep your hands on the couch when I touch you.”

You placed your palms firmly on the couch, gripping tighter as Agatha got closer to your core. She used a finger to swirl and stroke around your entrance but she never entered. She played around like that for a few minutes, watching how wet you quickly became. She gently pushed a finger into you, delighted at the load gasp you let out. She placed a gentle kiss to your thigh before pushing her finger deeper and then pulling it back out. Agatha repeated the motion for a bit, letting you get used to the intrusion, before picking up the pace and watching the way your face contorted in pleasure. She continued the pace for a bit before slipping in another finger. 

You started to let out loud moans of her name, unable to control yourself with this new feeling inside of you. You couldn’t hold yourself back, and your moans continued to grow loader. Agatha watched how easily you took her fingers, throbbing and pulsing around them. She could tell you were getting closer to an orgasm and removed her fingers. She brought them up to her mouth to taste, and she couldn’t control her moan at how good you tasted. 

“You did so well for me baby. I’m going to show you something else babygirl and then I’ll let you have a turn with mommy okay? Stay good for me, you’re my perfect angel.”

At that, Agatha took her thumb to your clit, before pressing down. You let out a yelp at that, and she swirled her thumb around in apology. She kept playing around, enjoying how nicely you moaned for her, and how desperate your pussy was with the way it was clenching around nothing. She decided to taste you from the source, replacing her thumb with her tongue and swirling delicately around your sensitive nub. You moaned even louder at that and Agatha chuckled directly into you. She continued her teasing, bringing her tongue down your slit, licking a few stripes before teasing your entrance and then pulling away all together. 

Your mouth hung open trying to catch your breath when Agatha pulled away, and she knew she had you right where she wanted you. 

“Alright baby, you were so good for me. I’ll let you pick your reward honey. Do you wanna play with mama’s boobs or her pussy?”

“Umm, I don’t know mommy, what if I’m not good at playing with your pussy? I like playing with your boobs.”

“Oh sweetheart, how about you give it a chance alright? I’ll let you play extra with my boobs if it’ll make you feel better.”

You nod at her, and she leans back against the couch with her leg spread open. 

“Okay baby, why don’t you kneel in front of me. It’ll make things easier for you.”

Ever so obedient, you immediately kneel in front, and make your way to undo her skirt. Agatha helps you in ridding her skirt and underwear, before spreading her legs open for you, allowing you to see her glistening pussy.

“Now baby, I’ll give you a few minutes to let you play however you want, but when I tell you to, enter two of your fingers inside of me okay?”

You nod before letting your fingers roam through her slit, sliding through a few times before reaching her clit. When you peer up at Agatha, she’s breathing heavily so you assume you’re doing something right. You gently rub at her clit, smiling when she lets out a moan. Agatha snakes a hand into your hair, and you let that be your sign to continue. 

“Baby, I want you to go inside me now okay? Mommy wants to feel good.”

You slipped two fingers inside and started pumping them inside. The hand in your hair tightened and you continued your pace, spurred on by her moans. You continue to finger her but your mouth can’t resist the sight of clit. You take it into your mouth and Agatha nearly screams at the sensation.

“Oh, oh just like that angel. You’re making me feel so good sweetheart, I’m so close angel just keep going. So good for me honey.” 

You double your efforts, desperate to please her. In a couple more sucks, you feel a warm liquid gush out of Agatha and you eagerly lap it up, becoming addicted to the taste. She gently pulls you away from her core and into her lap. 

“Oh my darling, you were such a good girl for me baby. Do you want mommy’s boobs now? You can have anything you like doll.”

“I want your boobies mommy, but I have a question for you.”

“What is it baby?”

“What was the liquid at the end, I didn’t have that when you were playing with me mommy.”

“Oh honey. That's what happens with you have an orgasm. I haven’t given you one yet because I want you to be able to focus on properly learning sweetheart. I was going to introduce orgasms to you at our next lesson.”

You nodded at her before tugging at her top, begging to see her tits again. Agatha removes her top and bra for you, and you eagerly dive in. She lets you rest against her as you seek her out and she sighs in relief. Her plan was falling nicely into place and she couldn’t be happier. Before long, Agatha realized how late it was for you and decided to call it a night. She pressed a gentle kiss to you before leaving, promising how good the next lesson will be for you if you remembered her rules. You promised her before shutting the door behind her. 

You immediately headed into the shower to try and calm down. Everything about tonight made your head spin and you didn’t want to be apart from Agatha. You tucked yourself to bed and hoped that this week would fly by.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t escape the curiosity of an orgasm. You wanted to know what it felt like and you weren’t sure if you could wait all the way until Friday. You laid down in bed fully naked. You felt really awkward doing this, it didn’t feel anything remote to what you were doing with Agatha, that was what made you excited. 

Your finger approached your core and you weren’t even sure what to do first. You let yourself explore for a few minutes but it didn’t feel anything close to how Agatha had touched you. Rubbing your clit didn’t help much either, and you groaned out in frustration. All of a sudden you realized you had broken Agatha’s rules. Suddenly you shot out of bed and started panicking. What if she stopped seeing you after this because you became her bad girl? You burst out into tears and realized you needed to see her right now. Little did you know, Agatha watched the whole thing go down through her camera. She had been checking up on you to make sure you were obeying her, and she was thoroughly disappointed to see you breaking her rules. What she didn’t expect even more was you knocking at her door, half naked in tears. 

She ushered you inside and brought you in for a hug, trying to figure out what happened.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry. I- I’m so sorry mommy. I was a bad girl. I messed up. I’m so sorry you have to forgive me, I wasn’t thinking properly. I’ll never do anything like this again, please don’t hate me mama.”

Agatha took pity on you and decided to take it easy on you. “What do you mean baby? What happened sweetheart? I would never hate you.”

“I- I broke your rule,” you hiccuped between words, completely overwhelmed with your current situation. “I was curious about what you said about orgasming and I wanted to see what it was and practice on myself. I didn’t even get to touch myself very well because it didn’t feel like when you did it but I still broke your rule and I’m sorry.”

You were wailing at this point and Agatha felt sorry for you. Did she hate that you disobeyed her? Yes. However she was just going to edge you once before letting you orgasm.

“Oh my darling, you’re still my girl sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. I’m disappointed in you but you’ll just take a punishment and if you behave through your punishment, I’ll show you an orgasm.”

You immediately agreed, desperate to get in her good graces. 

She laid you down over her couch while removing whatever clothing you had found to cover yourself. Her fingers immediately sunk into your pussy and set an unforgiving pace, you had moaned and wailed around her but you took it, allowing Agatha to use you as she pleased. She knew best after all. You felt a weird sensation in your lower belly and you tried to warn Agatha. She pulled out of you after that. You couldn’t hold back your whine and she stroked your hair.

“Tell me what you want baby.”

“I want you mommy. I want you to play with me all the time, I don’t want to wait until just Fridays anymore. I wanna be with you and sleep with you afterwards and go on dates with you.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you want to be my girl honey. Is that it? You want to be my girl, have mama take care of you? Well, I can’t say I’d be opposed to it. It would be nice to have my baby girl by my side all the time hm. l would like that angel.”

You beam at her and Agatha can’t resist kissing you deeply. Her tongue enters your mouth and immediately establishes dominance, sucking and swirling against yours. You’re breathless when she pulls away, and you immediately chase her lips. 

Agatha throws you over her shoulder and brings you into her bedroom, desperate to claim you as hers. She lays you down in the middle of the bed before shuffling through her drawer and pulling out some ribbon. She toes your hands to her bed posts and you peer up at her confused. You refuse to voice anything, not when you were so close to your reward. She starts trailing kisses down your body, taking her time to explore all of you. She leaves hickeys in her wake, and she knows you’ll be wearing her marks for the next few days. The thought fills her with need and she hurries her exploration, stopping right at your glistening pussy. 

Agatha dives right in, lapping at your wetness before focusing her attention on your clit. She sucks hard, enjoying the way she can feel you pulse. Your moans are music to her ears and she enters you again, fingering you hard and fast, building you back up to where you were before. She curls her fingers to hit your spongy spot and your mind goes blank. You moan loudly and completely go limp, letting Agatha use your pussy. You feel the same pressure in your tummy again.

“Mama, mama please I feel weird.”

“Oh honey, mama knows. Let go for mama, you’re doing so well for me precious.”

Her words spur you on and you’re falling apart against her fingers, moaning loudly and twitching as you ride out your orgasm. You lay there limply afterwards and Agatha immediately rushes to untie you.

 The moment she comes back near you, you cling to her, desperately latching on to her. She lays down comfortably next to you and you immediately bring your head to her chest, right next to her boob. Agatha has an inkling for what you want so she unties her robe, giving you full access to her. Your head piques up with interest and she guides you towards her nipple where you happily latch on. She lets you enjoy your suckling, stroking your head while quietly praising you.

You fall asleep with your mouth latched to her nipple and your other hand by her stomach. Agatha has never been happier, wearing a giddy smile as she starts to feel drowsy. She’ll take down her cameras soon, knowing that she’ll eventually have you living with her anyways. Pressing another kiss to your head, she lets sleep claim her knowing she has everything she wants.

notes: i feel like this is terrible so im very very sorry if it is 😔

tag list: @morbidlcve