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chevroletdean · 3 months ago

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Bean There, Done That

nsfw prompts, send in a character + a number

PAIRING: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Horny!Ben being his own warning, oral (fem receiving), mentions of male receiving oral, unprotected p in v (wrap it), creampie, hickeys and bitemarks and bruises, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk WORD COUNT: 2k PROMPT: 17) seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place A/N: In honor of my coffee machine finally arriving. After 8 days without a proper cup, I can run on bean juice again, hooray! Thanks a ton to the lovely @justwhisperingfantasies for requesting AND betareading <3 <3 <3 CREDIT & LINKS: dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ join the taglist ─〃★ Soldier Boy Masterlist

When Ben woke up, it was thanks to the waft of coffee emitting from the kitchen. Grumbling, he sat up and glanced towards the clock.

10:32 AM

Though that counted as sleeping in, he definitely didn’t get much rest last night. The clothes that were scattered all over the floor were enough proof of that. Among them, a pair of lace panties, torn apart.

Maybe he should feel bad about that one, but all he could muster was a proud smirk as he remembered ripping it off you just a couple of hours ago.

He quickly realized two things were missing from the picture— one being his jersey, which he was sure must’ve ended up somewhere among the pile; and more importantly… you.

Slipping out of bed and into his boxers and robe, Ben followed the trail of freshly brewed arabica. The sight he was met with beat any pirate’s lame treasure hunt.

You were standing at the counter, idly humming to yourself while you cut up a handful of strawberries. With your back facing him, you haven’t noticed him yet.

All the more time for him to appreciate the view.

His sharp eyes wandered up your long, bare legs, stopping briefly at the hem of a familiar shirt. Ah, so that’s where his jersey went.

The material was flowing down your body effortlessly, covering you up to around your upper thighs. He’d be lying if the idea of you wearing nothing underneath to cover the fat of your ass and your pretty pussy didn’t get him half-hard again already.

Baggy as your choice of attire was, it hung loose around your neckline. You’d swept your hair out of the way, into a messy ponytail—one he could already picture grabbing tightly to push your little mouth down his girth, much like last night.

Pink and purple constellations peeked through. Distinct marks, clearly the outline of his teeth.

He stepped closer to your unsuspecting form, hands already twitching to touch you again.

“Morning, sunshine,” Ben hummed at last, the gravel of his voice still raspy and deep from just waking up properly.

Honestly, his brain was still a but foggy, whereas other parts of his body were wide awake in comparison.

You flinched slightly, though your tension eased immediately as your eyes met his over your shoulder.

His smile was easy, his green eyes dropping to the curve of your lips. Even at the morning after he could still vividly remember them stretching over his length, glistening with spit as you had drooled all over his cock.

“What’s the rush today?” Ben asked, whilst his big arms caged you in, one hand on each side of you gripping the edge of the counter. “Didn’t want to stay in bed with me a bit longer, princess?”

“Thought I would make some breakfast,” you replied with a smile that was both shy and cheeky. “Was gonna bring it back to bed.”

He was all muscle and skin behind you, pressing against you until the kitchen counter bit into your hips.

“I think I know what I wanna have for breakfast,” Ben purred. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His teeth grazed your tender skin, teasing the bruises and lovebites until you whimpered softly.

Who knew there was an artist in Ben on top of all that superstrength? How else could one describe the canvas of your skin, littered in hickeys?

Before you even had a chance of reacting, Ben shoved the bowl of fruit out of the way and seized you by the hips.

“Turn ‘round for me, dollface,” he demanded, despite manhandling you into his desired position himself.

He spun you in his arms, then lifted you up with ease, sitting you up on the counter. The cool marble surface was a stark contrast against your warm skin, even more so as your bare cunt brushed against it and you flushed further.

Wasting no more time, Ben’s large hands flew to your thighs and spread you open.

Much like your throat, your inner thighs were plastered in evidence of last night’s escapades. A scan of the red marks at the apex of your thighs would probably run successful, if anyone were to test his damn fingerprints. No wonder, considering how hard he had to grab you yesterday, hold you down so you wouldn’t fly off the mattress thanks to his tongue devouring you.

His cock twitched in to life in his boxers just reminiscing over your taste. Definitely better than any fucking strawberry, much sweeter too.

Yeah, he was definitely right. Only breakfast he was interested in eating up was you.

“No panties, huh?,” he quipped, licking his lips.

You scoffed, though with a grin: “Kinda your fault, remember?”

“Touché, princess,” he chuckled and slipped his fingers beneath your shirt. His shirt. “Guess we’re even then, damn thief.”

“At least you can have it back,” you shrugged playfully, “my panties are gone forever.”

A laugh erupted from Ben then and a spark ignited in his eyes. “Good riddance, if you ask me,” he countered. “Not like you need them anyway, they’d only be in the way. I like you without them just fine.”

As if punctuating his statement, his fingers curled around the underside of your thighs, lifting your legs slightly. He sank down to his knees and pulled you closer, hoisting your legs over his shoulders.

And, Christ, you were already glistening, straight up honey for him to enjoy. Always so eager for him, taking whatever he decided to give you like a good girl. That’s what he loved about you. It was addictive.

To your surprise, he started slow—in the beginning, anyway. His lips brushed over the inner of your thigh, almost gently, coaxing a shaky exhale from you and giving you the chance to relax in his grip.

“Thank the Lord for a good fuckin’ meal, or whatever,” he muttered, though he was talking more to himself.

You were only able to cry out weakly as he dove right in, his wet tongue gliding through your folds like he was a man starved. One of your hands shot to his head, fisting his tousled hair as he slurped away.

You moaned his name like it was something holy, although you were his altar he worshipped on his knees.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped, briefly kissing your sensitive clit. “Swear, this pussy ‘s better than coffee.”

Your thighs were trembling around his head. Your body honestly still ached from hours of Soldier Boy pounding into you, the smallest touch leaving you sizzling. His stamina was downright cruel and you thought it quite unfair that he was already back to full energy while you struggled to contain your first orgasm.

He had barely touched you, but you were already embarrassingly close to crumbling.

You were sensitive still, which Ben used to his advantage.

He lapped at your core once again, tongue flat against your heat and milking you dry. Just before the tight coil in your lower belly could snap, he pulled back, leaving you all whiny and breathless.

“You know I usually like my coffee black,” he spoke as he rose back to his feet, standing tall between your shaking legs and pulling his boxers down just enough to free his throbbing dick. “But I think I wanna add some cream today.”

Ben guided the tip through your slick a few times, teasing and coating himself in your essence. You bucked your hips to meet his touch, desperate to finally feel him fill you. When he did, you gasped audibly, leaving your mouth open and vulnerable for his kiss.

You blushed tasting yourself on his mouth, still fresh and tangy.

He claimed your lips in a heated kiss, teeth colliding and tongues pressing hungrily. All while thrusting in and out of you relentlessly. He pawed at your hips, your waist, everywhere he could reach. Because what where a couple more fingerprints added to the ones that already decorated you? The evidence of you belonging to him. The more the merrier.

Though you struggled to sit upright, you knew Ben had a good hold on you. Your arms snaked around his neck and he took it upon himself to slip his hands under your ass, lift you off the counter, and carry you back to bed. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around him in the process.

Once there, the two of you collapsed onto the mattress, still a tangle of limbs, neither of you knowing where one body began and the other ended.

Ben pushed you down and slammed into you. Hard. Your back arched, your moans echoing off the bedroom walls. Your neighbors must’ve hated you—first you were robbing them of a peaceful night, now you were at it again, like rabbits.

The drag of his cock against your velvety walls was delicious, stroke for stroke making you see stars and every fiber of you tighten.

Ben’s gaze dropped down to where your bodies were connected, mesmerized by the sight of him sinking into you over and over again. As much as he had to give, you were taking all of it, which never failed to impress him. You always accommodated his size so well, getting stretched inch for inch, as if you were shaped for his cock.

“Christ on a cross, ‘s like you were made for me, huh?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, which was, bluntly put, swiped clear at this point. Fucked stupid, you didn’t have it in you to produce a coherent thought, let alone form a proper sentence. All you felt, all you were at that moment, was the impact of his hips against yours, the pleasure building in your middle.

What a beautiful mess he’d turned you into, eyes glazed over with tears pricking their corners, swollen lips parted yet only able to spill broken moan after broken moan.

When Ben slipped his hand between your lower halves and let his thumb rub tight circles over your clit, you were gone. Shuttering, you almost spasmed under him, convulsing and crying and falling apart right then and there.

You reaching your climax triggered Ben’s own peak, his hips chasing his high in the warmth of your walls. One more thrust and he followed shortly after, stilling his hips and spilling deep within you.

After riding out both of your orgasms, he dropped down next to you. The sweat sticking to his forehead did not dull the glow of his expression whatsoever. He turned to you, as if admiring his artwork. His grin was wide and proud, the white of his teeth nearly blinding you in the best way possible.

“Gotta say, sweetheart,” he declared. “I could start every day with a breakfast like this.”

Your attempt at catching your breath was interrupted by your own soft laughter. That guy was truly insatiable. Not that you’d have it any other way.

“I guess our actual breakfast is long cold now, though,” you huffed, less disappointed and more bemused.

“Here’s a deal for ya,” Ben started with a wink. “I get my jersey back, you get your coffee. Hot.”

With a snort, you shook your head. Not only had you never seen Ben actually operate the coffee machine, ever, you also saw his offer for what it truly was. You knew what would happen if you were so much as lift the hem of that jersey again.

“And, what? Risk myself turning into another round of dessert the second I return your shirt?”

Ben’s proud grin widened, his eyes heavy on you as he scanned you from head to toe, as if assessing the suggestion. He then shrugged playfully. It definitely sounded like a win-win in his book. “What can I say, I might make myself a career as a salesman after all, don’t ya think?”

Soldier Boy (Ben) Taglist:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @angelicjackles @blueschevy @jackles010378 @jollyhunter

@justwhisperingfantasies @ladykitana90

Want to be added to the taglist? Fill out this >FORM< Want to be removed from the taglist? Send a DM Not sure if you're on the taglist? Check here

#soldier boy x reader #the boys x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys x you #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy #ben x reader #soldier boy smut #smut sc #chevroletdean writes

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jaewritesfic · 11 months ago

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Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare.

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand.

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being.

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

#everlasting trio #danny phantom #tucker foley #sam manson #dc x dp #this has decided independently that its going to have dead tired vibes #if not genuinely dead tired #bats soon #tim pov next

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petalbcrnes · 4 months ago

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﹅ CRIMSON RINGS◞ j. todd ✗ fem!reader | 3.4k wc.

SYNOPSIS: Your piercing eyes scan the crowd, searching across the mingling elite for a certain someone. Their dim glow reaches Jason even from the distance between you two—it turns luminous when you spot him. He almost chokes on his breath.

Or, you and Jason share a dance at a gala and it takes an intense turn.

A/N: author knows nothing ab galas!! do not judge me </3 this was an old request, my first ever explicit work and i wanted to post it on this new acc. !! reminder, i am a minor writing smut, read at your own discretion!!

TAGS: explicit smut, clothed sex, body worship, praise, p in v, oral sex, cunnilingus, come eating, afab!reader, vaginal fingering, riding, aftercare, established relationship.

MASTERLIST.

THE SILVER BEAMS OF MOONLIGHT POUR THROUGH THE GLASS WALL, COVERING THE ROOM WITH AN OTHERWORLDLY HUE. Cool and polished, the marble wall gleams under the light, its smooth surface marbles with veins of smoky silver and hints of gold. Tonight, Wayne Enterprises is holding its annual charity gala at Gotham Museum of Antiquities—complete with an elegant venue; eye-catching decor and displays; unending speeches and presentations along with slow, dramatic waltz and special VIP rooms.

Tonight, Jason leans on that polished marble wall—with his own polished black-tie suit. The ink-black velvet suit makes him blend in with the rest of the crowd. He’s done well with avoiding the rest of the mingling Gotham elite, choosing to hide away in some dark corner. Jason watches the ivory-colored champagne in his hand as he tilts the glass from one side to another—a game, if you will. A game to pass the time.

He looks down at the opulent watch on his wrist. It was a gift given to him by Dick. No matter how much Jason said no—or complained, by his brother's words—he didn’t want the ridiculously costly accessory. Though, Dick persisted—just as he did with Jason attending this gala.

Jason glared at the numbers on the watch’s dial. The Roman numeral IX stares back at him as if it’s mocking the man. Jason fidgets with the collar of his alabaster button up shirt—too tight around his neck. His foot restlessly taps against the shining surface of the floor beneath. Jason folds his arms across his chest as he retreats deeper into the corner.

Time couldn’t move slower, he thinks.

He hears a singsong voice call out to him as light steps echo closer—

“How long are you going to stand there like a statue?”

The raven hair and ocean-like blue eyes of Dick are unmistakably familiar, even the teasing and lighthearted tone of his voice is engraved in Jason’s mind. Dick takes his place next to his little brother, leaning against the tall marble wall. His smug grin danced across his face. Dick playfully nudges Jason, prompting an answer out of him.

“Until this tedious, faux gala—I mean, important social occasion—ends. I don’t know how you survive here.” Jason groans, head falling back against the cool surface of the wall.

Dick lets a soft chuckle escape, “Well,” he clicks his tongue, “—It helps when you have a pretty thing by your side.”

Jason picks up on the tone of Dick’s voice and the suggestion. He can’t help but roll his eyes at his brother’s oh-so creative idea. The thought lingers in his mind for a minute—you, in some fancy outfit, perfectly suited for you, thin fabric hugging your plush and petal soft skin in all the right places.

His hand tightens around the champagne glass. Dick laughs again, satisfied with Jason’s reaction.

“Just wait until you see it in front of your own eyes.” Dick makes sure to emphasize the final words as he motions Jason to look across the dance floor.

There you stand, on the edge of the dance floor. The golden filigree of the ivory floor glows beneath your feet. The crystal chandelier casts a shimmering light upon your dewy skin. The crimson-colored velvet fabric flows across your frame like waves in a calm sea. Your hair meticulously detailed and styled drifts down from your neck and lightly touches your bare shoulders. A rose-gold pendant rests in the dip of your chest.

Your piercing eyes scan the crowd, searching across the mingling elite for a certain someone. Their dim glow reaches Jason even from the distance between you two—it turns luminous when you spot him.

He almost chokes on his breath.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Dick smirks as he pats Jason on the shoulder. He moves before Jason can give him a nudge of his own and disappears into the crowd.

Your heels clink across the ivory floor as you approach him. Jason can swear he can feel and hear the champagne glass crack under his tightened grip. The drink is left forgotten as he leaves it on a nearby table. Jason meets up with you. Suddenly the suffocating air of the gala dissipates.

“Thought I’d find you moping in some far away corner.” You giggle softly.

“Well,”—Jason takes your hand in his—palm face down as he places a gentle kiss on top of it. His lips linger on you as he holds eye contact, the aqua hue of his eyes are like a siren’s call, beckoning you closer—“everything has changed since you’ve arrived.”

Jason’s warm touch lights a fire on your skin’s surface. You take a second to break out of your sweet reverie. “For the better, I hope?”

“Of course it’s for the better. Without you this entire ordeal would be rather boring.” He muses.

“You think all galas hosted by your father are boring, but with enough persuasion, you always show up.”

“Enough persuasion, huh?”, he laughs, “you think I’m so easily persuaded?”

You gather the courage to step even closer to him. The slight bob of his Adam's apple gives you all the confidence you need.

Your eyes dart across his frame. The ink-black suit sits on his body like it was made for him specifically. The heat spreads throughout, settling deep into the crooks of your body. Does he even know how he looks right now? A sculpted statue of a Greek god, made meticulously by a renowned artist, stands in front of you.

You can’t seem to tear your eyes off him, your mind too busy and occupied with wondering what other details of the statue hide behind the black velvet fabric. Jason notices this too, proved by the flustered cough that leaves him and the slight pink tint on his cheeks.

You gaze into his eyes again, “Aren’t I proof of that? A few sweet words from me and you’re at my beck and call.”

Jason chuckles, “You’re the only one. Count yourself lucky, you minx.”

A sly grin dances across your face, “Oh, I am very fortunate. Though, I’d like to test your weakness for me one more time.”

“What do you have planned?” He lets out a faux groan, eyes following your lips every move.

“Dance with me.”

“What?”

You stammer, the confidence you felt a few moments ago slowly leaving your body, “It’s a gala, right? I’m your partner and I thought we could dance? Only if you’d like of course! It’s not mandatory to dance, I just-”

Jason takes your hands in his own, “—I want to.”

“To dance? With me?”

“Who else?” He laughs, the sound akin to honey. You want to taste his sweet oh-so desperately on your tongue.

“Okay.” You lead him to the dance floor with a smile dancing on your lips.

The ivory floor contrasts with the colors of your clothing. The lights across the room dance on you both, bathing in the warm, golden hue of the glow. Jason’s eyes shine like aquamarine crystals under the sunlight on a coast near the sea, touched gently by the sea foam. The two of you move and sweep through the crowd on the dance floor akin to the soft, rhythmic ebb of a river. It’s not precise, nor perfect. It reminds you of the cracks between broken pieces dipped and stitched back together with gold.

Your hand in Jason’s feels incredibly right, as if it was always meant to rest in the safety of his touch. Your cheeks graze as you attempt to hide yourself in the crook of his neck. A single whisper breaks you out of your trance.

“Don’t hide yourself, please. I want to see you—all of you.”

The words escape from the tip of your tongue, “you can, if you’d have me.”

Your suggestion rings in Jason’s ears. The surprise on his face is proven by the widening of his eyes and the slight part of his lips. His grip on your hands slightly strengthens, careful not to hurt you.

“Fuck.” He groans, the sound going straight to your core. The music slowly ends as he starts leading you towards an empty hallway. “I think they have rooms for the VIP’s here.”

There’s excitement in your every step. The more you walk, the more impatience eats at you.

“Jay-” You whine out, “Please-”

“Shh,” He smiles, “patience, and maybe you’ll be rewarded.”

Jason spots an unoccupied room near the two of you. In a few seconds he has you ushered into the privacy of its walls.

Now it’s just the two of you. The air feels hot and intoxicating. It doesn’t take long for the both of your lips to meet. The feel of his lips against yours is so familiar it strikes an aching feeling deep in your heart. Your cherry lipstick gets smeared more and more with every move of your lips. You finally let go of the strings of worry pulling at you and melt into his hold.

His hands travel from your hips to your waist and lay flat against your spine, bringing you closer as if the two of you will embrace each other as one. Every touch lights a fire on your skin. You suck on his bottom lip as your hands move from his face to the back of his neck, luring him closer as his tongue explores every corner of your mouth.

You whimper against Jason’s mouth. The wet kiss finally breaks. He sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes pierce into your own. The look of them makes you quiver in his hold.

Jason’s fingers graze your swollen lips, parting them. Your tongue reaches out on instinct, searching for his skin—his taste. He chuckles followed by a quiet hiss.

“Needy thing.” He moves closer, making you take a few steps back before reaching the bed. “Did you plan this?” He softly lowers you on the bed, hands trailing down to your hips, teasing the slit slightly in the fabric hugging your plum skin.

You shamelessly drag your hands down his chest, clawing to reach his skin underneath the layers of clothes. “Please, Jay-” Your body aches for him, every part of you calls out to him, yearning for his touch, his kiss, his—

“Did you think about this?” He asks, his voice low as he reaches down to whisper in your ear, his lips teasingly close to you. “I know I did.” You can see his flushed skin and slightly tangled hair. He looks so beautiful, intoxicatingly so.

You let out a whine as he kisses the skin connecting your jaw and neck. He nibbles down on the skin, pleasure and the slight bite of pain mixing into each other oh-so well. It lights embers in your body as in his. He takes in the captivating smell of your lingering perfume, making him wish he could drown in it.

His tongue on your neck trails down to your chest, leaving blossoming marks in its wake. They feel electrifying, sending bolts of lighting down your body, straight into your core. Your thighs press together, searching for friction.

He chuckles, looking up at you, “Shh—” He hikes the fabric above your waist, “—let me take care of you.”

Jason sinks to his knees. His lips dance across your thighs, leaving wet kisses in its wake. Your hips shake, body too sensitive from previous touches. Your hand covers your mouth to muffle the whimpers escaping from it. His hand reaches up to yours, ripping it from your mouth.

“I want to hear you—every sound. Just lose control, love. You look angelic like this—under me, spread and so giving, ruffled hair and needy whines—such a pretty mess.” He purrs.

“Jay—” You shudder when his lips graze across your clothed pussy, “—Oh my god.”

Jason chuckles against you, the sound vibrating from your pussy to the rest of your body. He hooks the fabric of your soaked panties on his finger, moving them aside. You bite back a moan at the cool air touching you. Tears well up in your eyes, ruining your mascara.

“Look at you, dripping from me. Did I make you wait for it, baby? Let me make it up to you, yea?”

“Yes, yes, please, Jay—!” The moan hitches in your throat as Jason's lips kiss your folds, his tongue teasing the entrance. ��Feels good, Jay…”

He pushes your thighs above, placing them on his shoulders. His hands grip around your hips, trapping them in place. You arch your back as his tongue delves in your cunt. Your breath quivers as he sucks down on your clit. His tongue flicks along it, sending bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“Fuck, right there— don’t stop!”

Jason’s digits rise and part your folds as he inserts one inside you. The moans bounce across the room as he works you towards your climax, as if you’re an instrument that he knows every string of, which one to pull, graze, shake, and grip.

The pleasure builds up, spreading slowly throughout your body. Your climax hangs as if it’s a thin thread about to snap. You shake and cry out for Jason—the one currently working you up to the oh-so satisfying cut of that string.

Your noises feel him with a confidence he doesn’t feel anywhere else. It’s enthralling—the fact he can make you feel so good. He’ll carry you to your climax because that’s what his darling deserves for giving him such a good present—dressing up for him, being so giving—his sweet darling.

The shaking of your thighs grows more intense, just like the moans escaping your mouth. He adds another digit, curling deep inside your cunt. His touch reaches you just in the right places, making you feel dizzy from it all.

“‘m close, baby,” you whine, “god, yes.”

The thread tithers on the edge. Every curl of his fingers and flick of his tongue pushes you closer to that very edge. Your breath gets caught in your mouth, only a strangled moan leaving when your climax hits. You can feel his satisfied grin on your pussy lips. Your chest rises with every bolt of pleasure. His tongue doesn’t let it go. He laps up your cum leaking from your cunt, savoring the taste.

Jason’s fingers delicately dance across your folds, cum collecting on them. He raises his hand for you to see. The moonlight reflects off of the shiny white liquid on the tips of his fingers. Your walls clench at the sight, eyes widening and head falling back against the bed. He laughs again.

“C’mon, be good—clean them.”

He rises from his position climbing on top of you again. His head tilts as his hand moves closer to you. You shudder as the smell of your own climax reaches you. You open your mouth, tongue searching for a taste. He settles the fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his digits. The striking taste of your slick and cum spreads your mouth. His eyes never break contact with yours, the stare is too intense. You squirm against his body.

Jason’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Fuck—god—pretty girl, good job, just like that.”

His praise makes your hips buck into his own. You want to pleasure him too. The bulge in his pants proves his arousal and need. Your hand slowly trails down his clothed body, searching for any sign of refusal. When he gives you a shaky nod with a crooked smile, you take that as approval.

You take this chance to switch positions. Lowering him down onto the bed you move to straddle his hips. The fabric of his pants grazes your bare pussy, the sensitivity making you shake. Your hands move to his bulge again, palming him over his clothes. He sighs with pleasure, hands clutching the sheets underneath him.

You coo at his reaction, “My pretty boy.”

He whines, the sound coming out as a quiet plea. His hands leave the sheets and grip your hips—surely leaving bruises decorating your flush body. Jason’s hair’s akin to a halo, the moonlight seeping through the window faintly covers him in a faint glow, making him look heavenly. The sight makes you groan.

“Let me take care of you now.”

Your hands move to unzip his pants and free his clothed cock. The flushed red tip leaks of precum.

Jason rasps, “darling, touch me, please.”

“Shh, don’t worry—” You lean down to press a chaste kiss on his forehead, “—I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

You raise your hips as you settle your hands on his chest, hands digging into his disheveled clothes. The tip of his cock kisses your cunt as you align yourself. You sink down onto him, his entire length slowly disappearing into your warmth. Your velvety walls hug his cock.

He shudders with pleasure, “—Fuck, baby- tryna milk me dry.”

You try to settle onto a rhythm. His hands—still on your hips—help you along with the pace, pulling them down onto his cock. The sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin spread throughout the room, bouncing across wall to wall. His hands reach up to your chest, grazing your nipples. Jason chuckles as your eyes widen and thighs shake with every touch.

Both of your moans mix into each other—the sound downright shameless but akin to ambrosia. The similar thread coils for Jason. His breaths become shaky, as your rhythm changes and pace becomes messy. Jason’s hands trail down from your chest to your hips, hanging on.

“Don’t stop, baby- please.”

He bites down onto his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to muffle his sounds. The coil threatens to unfold any second. Jason’s back arches with every desperate thrust, his hips coming to meet you in the middle, chasing that high. His climax reaches closer and closer.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask with a shaky voice.

He barely makes out your words in his hazy mind, “Of course, god-”

Both of your lips crash together as Jason’s climax hits him. He whines into your mouth, hands flying up to grip any piece of you he can—waist, spine, neck—he settles on cradling your face. Breaking from the kiss, his red and flushed lips tremble from ecstasy.

“How are you feeling?” You mumble into the crook of his neck, snuggling closer.

Jason wraps his arms around your frame, hiding his face in your hair, taking in your smell. “I’m feeling amazing- Christ.”

You giggle in response. Moving from his neck you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you—like I’m crazy in love.”

“I love you too, baby.”

You settle against his chest. Your eyes scan the room, taking notice of the messy sheets and the smell of sex spreading throughout the entire place. You suddenly remember the promise you made to his family about making him step out of his shell when it comes to these galas. Plan successfully failed?

The two of you slowly shuffle off the bed. Adjusting your clothing is fairly easy, the hair is more of a problem. Your make-up is a mess, too.

You tut, “Jay…”

“I think you look beautiful.” He moves closer to place a chaste kiss on your lips, his tongue slipping out to taste the smeared cherry lipstick.

“Crap, are we just going to leave the room and return to the gala like this?”

Jason lets out a laugh, seeing him lighthearted and content like this spreads a warmth in your heart.

“Well, I’m sure you’re a sight for the eyes, but I don’t want to share. We’re sneaking out.”

“I miss home. I don’t like these galas.” you whine.

“Me too. But I did like this one.” He smirks as his hands smooth out the back of your dress.

You snort, “Good. Maybe next time you’ll get lucky again.” You button his suit.

“I’ll hold you to that.” His hands try to settle your hair in a more presentable state. “We’ll get there and I’ll set up a warm bath for the two of us. After that we can finally rest.”

“I love you. I wanted to say that again.”

Jason smiles, eyes moving across your face, “—Me too, darling.”

421 notes · View notes

ssentimentals · 4 days ago

Note

hii!! congrats on 1.8k love 🎈can i request a fluffy wonwoo with number 17 please 🐈‍⬛

hiii, bebe! thank you 💜 of course you can, thank you for requesting!

prompt: 'nice tan lines.'

'wait. wait- are you actually nervous?' hoshi asks and when wonwoo doesn't say anything for solid three seconds, he squeals in delight. 'oh my god, you are!'

'shut up.' wonwoo grumbles with no heat behind it. tips of his ears are burning read now and he ducks his head, hoping at least his blush on the cheeks won't be that obvious. 'i'm not nervous.'

'uh-huh.' hoshi's grin is so wide, it fears to split his face. 'that's why you've been staring at 3 pairs of swimshorts for five minutes now. totally not because you're nervous. totally not because she is there.'

wonwoo glances towards the towel at the edge of the bed and wonders how quickly he can grab it and smack hoshi's face with it. before he can do that though his friend quickly runs away, leaving wonwoo alone. with 3 pairs of swimshorts that are all old and way too short. wonwoo glances down at his legs and groans at the very visible tan lines from his last vacation. he'll look ridiculous and usually he can bear that, but today you're coming with them for a swim and he'd rather eat can of worms than look ridiculous in front of you.

'woo?' you call, knocking on the door. 'you're in there? we all are ready, waiting for you. everything's okay?'

your concern is sweet and any other time he'd focus on how you are the one who comes up to check on him and not someone else, but he is more preoccupied with stupidly short swimshorts and his alabaster skin. he knew he should've went for short trucks in thailand. but he went with the long ones, the one ones thhat reach his knees and now skin above the knees is shockingly pale while everything below is sunkissed. god, he looks like a clown.

'okay, if you're not gonna say anything i will just break in there,' you announce. 'i don't know how, but i'll like. i don't know, push really hard, i guess.'

you sound adorably confused and he can see the slight furrow between your eyebrows as you gaze upon the door, trying to figure out how to break in. with a sigh, he grunts out: 'two minutes.'

wonwoo grits his teeth and quickly changes, not even taking a look at the mirror before swinging the door open. the sight of you steals his breath away as it always does and when you turn, taking him in, wonwoo already knows this day is going to be hell, when you chuckle: 'nice tan lines, woo.'

he groans and rolls his eyes, faking annoyance when in reality sound of your laughter sends goosebumps down his skin. 'don't.'

wonwoo knows he's staring. knows he's transfixed on the way you throw your head back while laughing, on the way your eyes crinkle in the prettiest way, on the way your body sways just a little towards him, making it so easy for him to reach out and steady you with his hand on your waist. 'you done making fun of me?' he asks jokingly. 'cause everyone is waiting.'

and maybe he gets a little bold, when his hand tightens around your waist and he pulls you bodily close to him. you look surprised and wonwoo will let you make fun of him all you want if you keep on blushing so cutely. 'so?'

you nod, a bit dazed. 'yeah, let's go.'

everyone is instantly on his ass once they see him, but wonwoo doesn't mind being the butt of the joke for once. he especiallly doesn't mind it when it makes you laugh like this, when you stay pressed to his side, cooing over his distressed expression gently. he can bear all the jokes if you keep on looking at him like that, checking whether he's offended for real or not.

'i know they are just joking,' he assures you, when hoshi says something about his thighs. 'no worries, i'm not offended. i know no one means it.'

you smile but then your eyes twinkle. 'i mean, i was not joking when i said that those tan lines are nice.'

wonwoo groans, smiling secretly when you laugh. your hand settles on his back, rubbing circles on it and yeah, he doesn't mind those stupidly short swimshorts if they got you touching him like that.

a/n: this is such a cute request, thank you for it, darling! hope you enjoyed! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

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aurynsia · 7 months ago

Note

hey, i really love ur blog and writing so much. can i request number 3 with James Potter from your prompt list? maybe an enemies to lovers, not really enemies but maybe they just get on each other’s nerves every time? I’m sorry I am rambling but I hope I give you the idea cleary.

It’s Tradition

James Potter x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: James Potter always finds a way to make your blood boil, but a bit of homework and some magic reveals exactly why…

Prompt: “Who the hell hung mistletoe here!?"

Warnings: Grumpy!Reader x Sunshine!James, enemies to lovers, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you!!! I tried to stay true to the request but reader ended up being evidently far more short tempered than James ;-; This is for my Christmas event, which you can participate in here! I hope you like it <3

——————— ⋆𐂂˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James Potter

Noun

Handsome captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, head boy of his house, infamous ladies man, full time flirt, and a total pain in your arse.

This was the boy that stood before you, grinning mischievously as he tilted over your table in the Transfiguration classroom.

“You’re good for a little bird, Ravenclaw, but you can’t beat me,” he remarked through his proud smile, “Minnie told me we tied for top of the class.”

“Bullshit, Potter!” You exclaimed in return, “I worked my ass off in this class while all you do is flirt with our classmates and get in my way.”

James frowned in faux offence, “Oi! I’m not just a pretty face you know.” You frowned back, though your expression was far more genuine than his. “Are too! You’re only tied with me because you charm our professor so much!” You pretended you didn’t just agree that he was a ‘pretty face’, holding your ground with arms crossed and frown immovable.

Soon McGonagall walked in and began the lesson, causing James to reluctantly walk back to his own desk. James had tormented you for the better part of a year now, rushing to answer questions in class with a cocky smirk and waving his high marks in your face, charming everyone around you while doing so.

At first he was sour towards you, turning his nose up at your clear intelligence and quick wit. But in more recent classes he began approaching you with a more teasing tactic, pushing your buttons directly in a way that felt almost flirtatious…if you squint.

“For the last week before winter break, you will be mastering the art of conjuration,” Professor McGonagall began, ”You will present an item to me by the end of the week - that you have conjured - and complete this task in pairs, which I shall assign. Now, seeing as we have a tie for first place, I believe this is the perfect opportunity to dismiss the lingering…tensions between our two brightest students.”

Oh, Merlin, no…you thought as your teacher continued, glancing over at James with a wince. “So, the first pair will be Potter and-“

——————— ⋆𐂂˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Oh, sod off!”

“Godric, love, don’t get your panties in a twist!” James laughed as he stood by your table once again, watching you defeatedly pack your bag after class. “Knowing us, we’ll have that assignment finished in only a few hours.”

“It’s not the assignment I’m worried about, Potter,” you grumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “Listen, gorgeous-“

“Don’t call me that.”

James took a step back. “Listen…all I’m trying to say is you won’t have to deal with me for long. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it,” he explained as you stood to leave.

“Just- come to Gryffindor tonight after dinner. We can get it done as soon as possible,” he spoke softly, appearing almost nervous as he pleaded with his puppy brown eyes.

“Fine,” you nodded, awkwardly shifting your feet as you faced him in the now empty classroom. “Brilliant! I’ll see you tonight,” he grinned, winking at you before leaving for his next class.

The day faded into night in the blink of an eye, hurdling you further towards your study date with James. You spent dinner groaning to your friends about how annoying the Gryffindor was, while James had an immovable grin plastered on his face.

“You know she’s required to spend time with you, right? It’s not like this is a date,” Remus said, raising a brow at James with eyes squinted in suspicion. “But that’s what’s so great about it, she’s forced to be in close proximity to me! I can work my magic, and by the end of the night she won’t hate me anymore!” James responded, eyes darting between the judging glares of Remus and Sirius across from him.

“Since when did you want to win her over? I thought you hated her back,” Sirius asked, mouth twisted in confusion and shock. “Well, I did…” James trailed off, “but I don’t want to end the year on bad terms, you know? She’s like, the one girl who doesn’t want me-“

“And that makes you want her?” Remus asked with a smirk, figuring out James’ motives before he even had a chance to confess. “Well…” James replied, grinning bashfully at his roommates with a slight blush.

“Oh, fuck off! You like her!” Sirius exclaimed a little too loudly, causing James’ eyes to widen and glance over to your position at the Ravenclaw table. You were still enthralled in your elaborate explanation of how James Potter was the worst person to ever live, unaware of the commotion from the Marauders.

“I- whatever…point is, I can finally make peace,” James whispered to his friends as if planning another prank on an unsuspecting Slytherin. “Just wait and see.”

——————— ⋆𐂂˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“What’s your favourite colour?”

This was the seventh question James had asked you in the first hour of your study session.

He was leaning towards you on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, peering over your notes and occasionally giving you surprisingly helpful advice on the task, though mostly just bombarding you with childish conversation and teasing remarks.

“James…” you sighed, and he perked up at the sound of his first name coming out of your otherwise unwelcoming mouth. “Why do you care?” You questioned, a tinge of vulnerability lacing your words.

“Dunno, just asking,” James trailed off, looking for a way to avoid your interrogation. “You look cute when you’re frustrated,” he suddenly said, grinning at your furrowed brows.

“Merlin, James, would you stop that? I thought you couldn’t get anymore infuriating, constantly showing off in class just for praise- but this is even worse!” You exclaimed, standing up and brushing off your uniform.

“Just because you’re so popular doesn’t mean you can tease me like that- just because you think less of me. I have a good reputation too, you know?”

James was following your movements now, slowly standing from the couch as you paced the common room. “I mean, I get great grades, I’m head girl of Ravenclaw, and I don’t think I’m exactly ugly either! So why, in Godric’s name, do you feel the need to condescend me like this?”

You were puffing, attempting to regain the breath you just lost in your fury. You stared expectantly at James, who now stood opposite you at the base of the stairs, biting his lip as he thought of what to do.

His eyes darted around the room, seemingly searching for an answer, before focusing on something directly above you. You slowly raised your gaze to find what he seemed so fixed on, before you gasped at the sight.

Above your head hung a precious bunch of mistletoe, tied with ribbon and enchanted with dancing light that swirled around it in magical circles. Your eyes widened, bringing your gaze back to the boy in front of you, who was already staring in return.

Come on Potter, James thought, kiss her now. If you can’t tell her how you feel, then just bloody show her.

You groaned to break the awkward silence, rolling your eyes. “Who the hell hung mistletoe here!?" You began, “I swear, you Gryffindors-“

James’ lips captured yours in an instant, muffling your next words as he hovered his hands over your waist and screwed his eyes shut in relief. You stood wide eyed and confused, tensing under the ghost of his touch and causing him to pull away.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- it’s just…it’s tradition-“ James panted for breath in front of you, staring at you with a mix of guilt and infatuation.

You softened under his gaze, stepping forward to press your lips to his in return. He sighed at the contact, finally wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning into the kiss. You gently traced your fingers through his curls, tilting your head to deepen the sweet moment.

When your lips finally parted, James looked like a pathetic mess. His glasses were askew, hair tousled and cheeks flushed, gazing at you with lidded eyes and parted lips. “Godric, I fancy you,” he breathed, “too much for my own good…”

You stared at him intently, examining his eyes for any sign that this might be yet another prank. When you found nothing but genuine adoration in his gaze, you smiled softly back at him. “I suppose I fancy you too, James.”

“Moony! Come out here, quick!” A voice called from the top of the stairs, causing you to look up at an excited Sirius Black in shock.

“What? Why- Oh, Gods!” Remus exclaimed, staring at your figure caught in his roommate’s embrace, James’ hands still around your waist and chest pressed close to yours.

Sirius glanced up, noticing the mistletoe teasingly hanging from the ceiling. He slowly looked back down, smirking at the two of you once again.

“Your conjuration is getting better, Prongsie,” he remarked. James looked back at you with a guilty smile, causing you to gasp.

“POTTER!”

——————— ⋆𐂂˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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theballadofharkness · 4 months ago

Text

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: The Kittening. Now it’s Purr-sonal

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and pouting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention.

Word Count: 9.3K

Warnings: very mild smut warning so as always MDNI xo

A/N: Part 2 is finally done! UPDATE: Part 3 is coming soon. Also if you’d like some drabbles or little oneshots in this universe, I’d be down 💜🪻

The warm glow of candlelight danced across the bedroom walls, casting soft golden hues over the deep violet fabric of the sheets. The scent of lavender and rose lingered in the air- Agatha always insisted on lighting a few enchanted candles before a special occasion, their aroma designed to calm the nerves and set the perfect mood. You stood by the vanity, smoothing your hands down the silk robe Agatha had insisted you wear while getting ready. It was loose, slipping down one shoulder as you considered the dresses laid out across the bed- each one more elegant than the last. You’d been trying to decide for nearly ten minutes, but the weight of Agatha’s gaze made thinking a little difficult. She was perched on the edge of the bed, a glass of dark red wine in hand, watching you with that knowing smirk. Her legs were crossed, her free hand drumming idly against her knee, but her eyes… oh, her eyes were doing something else entirely.

“You do realize, my love,” she drawled, tilting her head slightly, “that we’ll be celebrating our third anniversary at this rate.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes even as a smile tugged at your lips. “It’s your fault. You keep looking at me like that, and I forget what I’m supposed to be doing.”

Agatha chuckled, setting down her glass and rising gracefully from the bed. In an instant, she was behind you, her hands slipping around your waist, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Looking at you how, exactly?” she murmured, voice thick like honey.

A delicious shiver ran down your spine. “Like you’re planning on devouring me.” You breathed

She hummed, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over the silk of your robe. “Maybe I am,” she teased, pressing a lingering kiss just below your ear. “But first, let’s get you dressed.”

You barely had time to form a response before she stepped around you, reaching for the dresses on the bed. She ran her fingers over each one, thoughtful, before finally selecting a deep, elegant number-the kind that clung in all the right places, smooth and rich as velvet. Holding it up, she turned to you, a wicked gleam in her eye.

“This one,” she purred. “I want to see you in this one.”

Your breath hitched. It was bold, refined-something that made you feel as powerful as you did beautiful. Agatha knew exactly what she was doing, of course. She always did.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “You just like seeing me flustered.”

Agatha smirked, stepping forward until there was no space left between you. Her fingers found the silk tie of your robe, toying with it lazily as she tilted her head, eyes dark with amusement. “Mmm. That,” she whispered, voice like velvet, “is an added bonus.”

She leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, one that left you breathless and clutching at the front of her dress before she pulled away, her expression unbearably smug.

“Well?” she prompted, still twirling the fabric of your robe between her fingers.

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you huffed a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. I’ll wear it.”

Agatha grinned, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before stepping back, hands on her hips. “Good girl.”

The way your stomach flipped at those words was entirely unfair.

You turned quickly, hoping she wouldn’t catch the way your face was now practically glowing, but of course, she saw everything. A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled from her chest as you made your way toward the changing screen, her gaze burning into your back.

As you disappeared behind it, you heard her sip her wine before purring, “Take your time, sweetheart. I’ll just be right here, picturing the final result.”

You groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you married me,” she quipped.

And you wouldn’t change that for anything.

The moment you stepped out from behind the changing screen, Agatha’s eyes darkened, her gaze raking over you like slow-burning fire.

“Oh, darling,” she purred, setting her wine glass aside as she strode toward you. Her fingers traced the fabric along your waist, her grip firm as she tugged you flush against her. “This was an excellent choice.”

You barely had time to breathe before her lips captured yours, warm and insistent, her hands slipping to your lower back, pulling you in until there wasn’t an inch of space left between you. She kissed you like she had all the time in the world-slow, teasing, with just enough pressure to leave your head spinning.

Your hands found her shoulders, then her jaw, tilting her face to deepen the kiss. Agatha let out a pleased hum against your lips, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as she backed you toward the bed.

You gasped as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, and Agatha took full advantage of the sound, nipping at your lower lip before pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, her breath hot against your skin.

Then-

“Hey, I’m here!” Billy’s voice rang out from downstairs, echoing through the house like a poorly timed curse.

You barely had a second to react before Agatha pulled away with an exaggerated groan, pressing her forehead to your shoulder as if she could physically will the interruption out of existence.

“You have got to be joking,” she muttered, her fingers tightening on your waist.

You bit your lip, torn between laughter and sympathy. “Billy was supposed to come by to watch Salem, remember?”

Agatha exhaled dramatically, lifting her head just enough to give you a look. “Yes, I remember. I just didn’t think he’d be so punctual about it.”

“Agatha,” you chided softly, running your fingers through her hair. “He has a key, and he’s here all the time. It’s not like he broke in.”

Agatha huffed, straightening up with all the reluctance of a cat being forced out of a sunspot. “We are celebrating our wedded bliss, and we’re being interrupted by a babysitter for a cat.”

You chuckled, smoothing your hands over the front of her dress. “He’s only a baby,” you reminded her gently. “He’s not independent like Señor Scratchy.”

Agatha pulled back, narrowing her eyes. “Señor Scratchy is an esteemed companion. A sophisticated creature of the dark arts.” She gestured vaguely toward the door. “That thing? A menace.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s just a tiny kitten.”

“A tiny menace,” she corrected. “Who ruins my fun.” She gestured dramatically toward the door, where Billy’s voice was still carrying from downstairs. “Case in point.”

You pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Come on, my love. Let’s go say hi before he thinks we forgot he was coming.”

Agatha exhaled through her nose, still clearly put out by the interruption. But as you took her hand and gave it a squeeze, she sighed in defeat, lacing her fingers with yours.

“Fine,” she relented. “But if that tiny menace scratches my good chair again, I will turn him into a teacup.”

You squeezed her hand again, grinning. “You love him, really.”

Agatha muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like not a chance, but the way she was already guiding you toward the stairs suggested otherwise. Agatha still looked mildly put out as she led you down the stairs, her grip firm around your waist.

Billy, of course, was already making himself at home. He was standing in the living room, holding a tiny, squirming Salem against his chest, his face lit up with excitement. “Awh, look at this little guy! He’s so small.”

Salem let out a tiny, unimpressed meow, wriggling in Billy’s hold before promptly climbing up onto his shoulder like a parrot.

“Whoa. Wow. Y/N, you look beautiful!” Billy smiled when he was able to properly focus his attention on the pair of you.

Before you could so much as say thank you, Agatha’s arm tightened around your waist, tugging you firmly against her side. She leveled Billy with a frown, one eyebrow arching in clear disapproval.

Billy stared at her. Then at you. Then back at her. Finally, with a deadpan expression, he sighed. “Agatha. I’m gay.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh as Agatha’s frown deepened slightly, though she didn’t loosen her grip. Billy just rolled his eyes, adjusting Salem on his shoulder. “And you look pretty too, I guess.”

Agatha scoffed, finally letting you go to cross her arms over her chest. “Took you long enough.”

Billy just smirked, plucking Salem off his shoulder and cradling him in his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Where’s the food for the little prince?”

You smiled, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Their food is all prepped and labeled, and their next feed is at seven. Their treats are in the cupboard- just don’t let Salem have too many at once.” You explained. “If anything goes wrong, call me,” you finished.

Billy opened his mouth to respond, but Agatha was already shaking her head as she levelled him with a look so pointed it could have been a hex.“Don’t you dare, Kaplan.”

Billy blinked. Then grinned. “Oh, you know I’m calling her now.”

Agatha groaned, rubbing her temples as you laughed, squeezing her hand. “Billy, don’t tease her.”

Billy just winked. “No promises.” He barely had time to say another word before Agatha was tugging you toward the door, her fingers laced tightly with yours. “Alright, Kaplan, don’t burn the house down,” she called over her shoulder.

Billy snorted. “No promises.”

You shot him an apologetic smile as Agatha practically dragged you outside, her impatience palpable. The moment the front door shut behind you, she exhaled like she’d just escaped some great ordeal. “Finally.”

You giggled as the taxi pulled up, its headlights casting a warm glow against the quiet street. “You act like we were held hostage.”

“I was,” Agatha muttered, opening the door for you before ushering you inside. The moment you slid into the seat, she was right behind you, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. “By him and that tiny menace.”

The taxi driver barely had a chance to confirm the address before Agatha was on you- her hands smoothing over your thighs, her lips pressing against your neck, her voice a pleased hum against your skin.

“Mmm,” she purred, tilting your chin toward her as the car pulled away from the curb. “Alone at last.”

You laughed softly, though your breath hitched as her fingers traced the hem of your dress. “We’re in a taxi.”

Agatha smirked, completely unbothered, her eyes dark with amusement as she studied your face. “And? Do you really think that’s going to stop me from doting on my perfect, pretty wife?”

Your face warmed instantly. “Agatha,” you whispered, glancing toward the driver.

She just chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before murmuring against your skin, “What? You’re mine. And you look divine tonight.”

Her lips brushed against your jaw, slow and deliberate, and you had to fight the urge to melt into her right there.

You swallowed, biting back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you married me,” she quipped, her hands settling on your waist.

Your heart fluttered as the taxi continued into the glowing center of Westview, the lights of the city reflecting against the windows. The night had only just begun, and if Agatha was going to make sure you felt completely adored every second of it.

The taxi rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant, its golden glow spilling out onto the cobblestone street. The restaurant was elegant but cozy, with warm lighting flickering through the windows and the soft hum of music drifting through the air.

The moment the car door opened, Agatha was there, offering her hand like some old-world gentleman. “Come, my love,” she murmured, helping you out as if you were royalty.

You couldn’t help but smile as she tucked you into her side, her arm settling possessively around your waist. She pressed a quick kiss to your temple before leading you inside, her fingers tracing soothing patterns against your hip. The moment you stepped through the door, something felt… different. The restaurant was busy, but no one so much as glanced in your direction. In fact, it was as if the entire front room didn’t see you at all.

You glanced up at Agatha, arching a brow. “Did you-?”

“Shhh, darling,” she purred, squeezing your waist. “Just enjoy.”

Before you could press her further, the maître d’-a well-dressed man with a strangely dreamy expression-greeted you both with a bow. “Right this way, Mrs. Harkness,” he said smoothly, already leading you toward the back.

As you entered the back of the restaurant, your breath caught. It was perfect. The lighting was softer here, a warm golden hue casting everything in a romantic glow. The tables that had once been scattered around the space were now gone, leaving only one: a beautifully set table for two, complete with candles and an arrangement of your favorite flowers. The band-previously playing some elegant, generic jazz-began to shift into something softer, something familiar. Your wedding song.

You turned to Agatha, your heart swelling. “Oh Agatha…”

She was already watching you, eyes filled with adoration. “Happy anniversary, my love,” she murmured, brushing a stray curl behind your ear. “Only the best for my beautiful wife.”

Your throat tightened with emotion as she guided you to the table, pulling out your chair like a true gentlewoman. You shook your head, overwhelmed. “You are so extra.”

Agatha just smirked, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as she sat across from you. “Of course I am,” she teased. “You deserve nothing less.”

The candlelight flickered gently between you, casting Agatha’s sharp features in a golden glow. The soft murmur of the band playing in the background blended seamlessly with the low hum of other diners-though, thanks to Agatha’s little enchantment, it still felt like it was just the two of you in your own private world.

And Agatha?

Agatha was adoring tonight.

She reached across the table, delicately cutting a piece of her dish before lifting it to your lips. “Try this, my love,” she murmured, eyes twinkling with affection.

You blushed but leaned forward, letting her feed you a bite. The rich, savory flavors melted on your tongue, and you hummed in approval. “Mmm. That’s amazing.”

Agatha smirked, clearly pleased with herself. “Told you. I do have exquisite taste.”

You rolled your eyes. “In food, or in wives?”

She tilted her head, feigning deep thought. “Oh, both. But my wife? She’s by far my greatest indulgence.”

Your face burned. “Agatha…”

She chuckled, setting down her fork and simply looking at you, taking you in as if you were the only thing that mattered. “I still remember the first time I saw you,” she mused, swirling her wine. “This radiant little green witch walking into my coven, full of life and magic. You were captivating.”

Your heart swelled. “You mean when I tripped over a candle and almost set the altar cloth on fire?”

Agatha laughed. “Yes, exactly that moment. I took one look at you and thought, mine.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to contain your grin. “You are so dramatic.”

“And you love it.”

She wasn’t wrong.

As the main course arrived, Agatha kept the conversation light and playful, telling you old stories from her centuries of mischief, making you gasp at some of the antics she’d pulled over the years.

“Wait, wait, so you were the reason that Duke guy mysteriously ‘disappeared’ in the 1700’s?” you asked, wide-eyed.

Agatha grinned. “Mm-hmm. Turns out, if you start calling yourself a ‘witch-finder general’, you might just wake up in the middle of the ocean.”

You laughed. “You drowned him?!”

“Oh, no, no. Just dropped him there. He probably swam to shore.” She shrugged. “Or not.”

You shook your head, giggling, but the way she watched you-soft, devoted-made you feel warm all over.

And then, just as you were reaching for your wine-

Your phone rang.

Both of you froze.

Agatha’s head turned slowly toward the source of the interruption, her expression darkening instantly. “No.”

You sighed, glancing at the screen. Billy.

Agatha groaned. “I swear to Hecate, if he is calling to tell us that kitten has done something ‘super adorable’-”

You gave her a look before answering. “Billy? What’s-”

“Y/N, okay, please don’t freak out,” Billy said quickly, “but-uh-Salem, um. Salem threw up. And now he looks really sad and sick and I think he’s scared-”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh, no,” you breathed, already reaching for your bag.

Agatha sighed, rubbing her temples. “For the love of-”

“He’s so little and I don’t know if this is, like, normal baby kitten stuff or if I need to take him to a vet and I swear I didn’t do anything-” he continued his panic fuelled rant.

You don’t even let him finish. “We’re coming home.”

Agatha was seething. The moment you hung up, she slammed her wine glass down with a force that made the candles flicker. “Unbelievable. Absolutely un-fucking-believable.”

You barely heard her- you were already grabbing your bag, heart racing with worry. “We need to go now-”

Agatha shot up from her seat, chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Oh, do we?” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Do we really need to abandon our perfectly romantic, expensive, private anniversary dinner because of that menace?”

You turned to her, wide-eyed. “Agatha, he’s sick-”

“Oh, is he?” she huffed, throwing a few bills onto the table with far too much force. “Or is this just another one of his tiny, kitten-sized schemes to steal more of your attention?”

You groaned, practically dragging her toward the exit. “For Hecate’s sake, Agatha, he’s a baby, not an evil mastermind.”

Agatha scoffed. “Says you.”

She was walking fast, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she flagged down a taxi with a single, aggressive flick of her wrist. You could feel her magic practically vibrating with frustration, wrapping around you in possessive waves. You climbed into the cab, bouncing your knee anxiously as Agatha slammed the door behind you.

The driver barely had time to ask before Agatha barked, “Home. Now.”

The car lurched forward. Your mind was racing with worst-case scenarios. What if he’s really sick? What if he needs a vet? What if he’s scared and crying and-

You barely noticed Agatha sitting rigidly beside you, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight it could crack.

She exhaled sharply. “This was supposed to be our night.”

You sighed, squeezing her knee. “I know, love.”

Her frown deepened, but she didn’t pull away. “First, he takes up all your free time,” she grumbled. “Then he steals your affection. And now? Now he’s ruining our anniversary dinner.”

You bit your lip. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

She let out a long-suffering sigh, finally glancing at you. Her expression softened just a little. “Of course not, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s that infernal creature I have a problem with.”

You leaned your head against her shoulder, heart still hammering. “I just need to make sure he’s okay.”

Agatha’s fingers twitched in her lap before, begrudgingly, she rested a hand on your thigh. “I know, darling.”

You knew she wasn’t done grumbling. You knew she would absolutely have more to say about this later. But for now, she let you cling to her, let you worry. And even though she was positively furious at the tiny, four-legged interloper that had stolen so much of your time, she still pressed a kiss to your temple and muttered, “Let’s just get this over with.”

The second the taxi pulled up to your house, you barely waited for it to stop before throwing the door open and bolting inside.

“Salem?!” you called, panic still gripping your chest as you rushed through the doorway.

Billy was already there, eyes wide with pure distress. “Y/N, I swear he was acting so off, he threw up, and then he was just sitting there all sad and-”

Before he could finish, a tiny mew sounded from the living room. You turned just in time to see Salem-small, fluffy, and very much alive-perking up and trotting over to you like nothing had happened. His little tail flicked as he reached your feet, looking up at you expectantly with big, innocent eyes.

You blinked. “…Oh,” you breathed, already scooping him up. “Baby, you’re okay…”

From behind you, Agatha let out a slow, lethal exhale.

Billy took one look at her face and immediately backed up. “Okay, I know how this looks, but I promise-”

“Oh, do you?” Agatha hissed, stepping forward with a sharp glare. “Because to me, it looks like my entire anniversary was just hijacked because of that devious little wretch.”

Salem let out a tiny chirp in your arms, rubbing his face against your chin.

Agatha’s scowl deepened.

Billy held up his hands, frantic. “No, no, he was sick! He was all slow and miserable and just staring at me, and I panicked! I didn’t lie- he was acting weird, I swear!”

You bit back a smile, running a soothing hand down Billy’s arm. “It’s okay, Billy,” you reassured softly. “Sometimes, animals eat something that doesn’t agree with them, and they feel off for a bit. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

Billy still looked hesitant. “…So you’re not mad?”

“Of course not.” You smiled.

Agatha, however, let out a short, bitter laugh. “Well, I’m mad.”

Billy winced. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Agatha crossed her arms, looking at Salem like he was her mortal enemy. “That fiend just ruined our entire night, and now he’s prancing around like he’s innocent-”

Salem purred, curling up in your arms.

Agatha’s eye twitched.

Billy took another cautious step back.

You sighed, pressing a soft kiss to Salem’s head before glancing up at Agatha. “Love, I know you’re mad-”

“Oh, do you?” Agatha cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You wrapped your arms around her. “-but we can still salvage the night.”

Agatha scoffed. “Oh, how? Shall we share a romantic candlelit meal over a pile of cat vomit?”

Billy made a choked noise.

You rolled your eyes, rubbing Salem’s ears. “He’s just a baby, Agatha.”

“He’s a menace,” she corrected.

Billy cleared his throat. “Sooo… does this mean I’m fired as a cat-sitter?”

Agatha snapped her gaze to him. “Oh, without question.”

It was still early when you woke up, the morning light spilling lazily through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the bed. You barely had time to stretch before warm hands slid over your hips, pulling you back against a familiar, curvy body.

“Mm, morning, darling,” Agatha purred, voice still thick with sleep as she nuzzled into your neck.

You hummed, melting instantly as she pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Her fingers traced along your thigh, teasing, feather-light. “We never did get to properly celebrate our anniversary, did we?”

Your breath hitched. “No, we-ah-never got the chance.”

Agatha smirked against your shoulder, her lips traveling lower. “Mm. Such a tragedy.”

She rolled you onto your back, slotting herself between your legs with ease. The weight of her, the heat of her- it was intoxicating. Her lips were slow and lazy against yours, like she had all the time in the world to savor you, to tease you, to drive you insane.

“Agatha,” you gasped, already dizzy, already needy.

She chuckled darkly. “What is it, my love? What do you need?”

“You,” you breathed, arching into her touch.

Her pupils darkened. “Oh, sweetheart.” She trailed a hand down your body, ready to make you hers-

And then-

“AH!” Agatha jerked back with a yelp, her hand flying to her leg.

You blinked in confusion until you saw Salem, sitting smugly at the edge of the bed, tail flicking.

Agatha gaped at him in outrage. “Did you just bite me?!”

Salem simply stared. Unbothered. Unapologetic.

Agatha turned her arm, revealing a tiny red mark. She gasped dramatically. “He did that on purpose! Attempted murder!”

You? You lost it.

Laughter bubbled out of you, loud and uncontrollable. You clutched your stomach, barely able to breathe as Agatha sat there, stunned and betrayed.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N!” she squawked. “I was attacked in my own bed!”

You wiped tears from your eyes, still gasping between giggles. “Agatha, he’s a kitten-”

“A kitten with a vendetta!”

Salem chirped and trotted over, climbing right into your arms like nothing had happened.

Agatha glared. “Oh, of course. Of course you run to her.”

You bit your lip, stroking Salem’s fur. “I think someone’s just hungry.”

She huffed. “Oh, well, pardon me for not getting up at the crack of dawn to serve his majesty his breakfast-”

Salem meowed expectantly.

Agatha scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

The day had started fine. Agatha had the house to herself-well, herself and Billy, who was currently seated in the living room, focusing on a levitation spell she’d been drilling into him for the past hour. You were off shopping with Lilia, which meant she had no distractions, no interruptions-

Or so she thought.

Because then, of course, there was Salem. Salem, who had spent the morning tearing through the house like a demon. Salem, who had already knocked over a full cup of tea, shredded the edge of one of her books, and was now currently attempting to climb the curtains with his tiny, traitorous claws.

Agatha’s eye twitched.

“That’s it,” she snapped, storming over. She plucked Salem off the curtain before he could bring the entire thing down and marched toward the kitchen. “You- are going in here.”

Salem let out an indignant mew as she placed him gently on the floor and shut the kitchen door.

Billy gawked. “Did you just lock up the cat?”

“Yes,” Agatha deadpanned, storming back into the living room.

Billy gave her a scandalized look. “Oh, come on, he’s a baby.”

“He’s a tyrant,” Agatha corrected, flopping onto the couch with a huff. “I cannot handle that little devil for another second.”

Billy snorted. “Y/N’s gonna kill you.”

Agatha waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. She won’t even know.”

And then-

CRASH.

Agatha bolted upright.

Billy froze. “Uh… that didn’t sound good.”

Agatha was already moving, storming into the kitchen, ready to see what destruction that damned cat had caused-

But then she stopped. The kitchen window was open. The little potted plant on the sill had been knocked over, soil spilled everywhere. And Salem? Gone.

Agatha’s stomach dropped.

Billy peered over her shoulder. “Ohhh, shit.”

Agatha’s breath caught. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no-” She rushed forward, peering out the window. Sure enough, there, in the middle of the garden, was Salem. He was sniffing around, completely unbothered, his little tail flicking in the breeze.

Agatha panicked. She hated that cat, but that cat was your baby. And if anything happened to him? If he got lost, if he got hurt-

Oh gods.

She’d never hear the end of it.

Billy? He was already backing away. “Sooo, do I need to go wait outside so I don’t get hit by any flying objects when Y/N gets home?”

Agatha snapped her head to him, wild-eyed. “Shut up and help me catch that cat!”

Billy immediately scrambled after her as she raced outside, her heart pounding as Salem, the little criminal, simply sat in the grass-completely oblivious to the absolute chaos he had just unleashed.

The second Agatha stepped into the garden, Salem locked eyes with her. And in that moment, she swore he knew. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be out here. He knew that if she didn’t catch him before you got home, her life wouldn’t be worth living. And so, the little bastard did what he did best.

He ran.

“Oh, for the love of-” Agatha lunged, but Salem was fast, scampering across the yard like a tiny, fluffy demon.

Billy doubled over laughing. “Oh my god-”

Agatha whipped her head toward him. “Teen, get your ass over here and HELP ME!”

Billy snorted, but he jogged forward, attempting to corner Salem between the flower beds. “Okay, okay, here, kitty-”

Salem shot between his legs like a bullet.

Billy yelped, nearly face-planting into the grass.

Agatha groaned. “Are you kidding me?!”

Billy spun around, pointing dramatically. “Oh, he’s evil.”

Agatha already knew that.

They spent the next ten minutes chasing him across the yard-diving, reaching, failing as he danced out of their grasp every. single. time.

Agatha, panting, glared. “That’s it. I’m using magic.”

Billy’s eyes widened. “You can’t!”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because Y/N will know!” Billy pointed wildly toward the house. “You really think she won’t sense if you throw a binding spell on her precious baby?”

Agatha froze.

Shit.

He was right.

You would absolutely sense it if she hexed Salem into submission. And if you got home and realized she had not only lost him but had also used magic on him?

Oh, she was so dead.

Agatha groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. No magic. But we need to get him now-”

And then… the gate creaked. Her blood ran cold. Slowly, she turned. The garden gate was open. Salem was right next to it. And then he bolted.

“SALEM, NO-” Agatha leapt, just missing him as he squeezed through the gap and took off toward the street.

Billy screamed. “AGATHA HE’S ESCAPING-”

Agatha ripped open the gate and ran-barefoot, chasing a fugitive kitten down the street like some kind of madwoman.

Billy raced after her, wheezing. “I’m-gonna-die-”

“NOT BEFORE WE CATCH THAT DAMN CAT!”

Up ahead, Salem scampered toward a tree, tail flicking as he reached the trunk. Agatha saw one chance. She launched herself forward and finally, FINALLY- she caught him. Panting, drenched in sweat, she curled her arms around his tiny, wriggling body, holding him up like some sort of cursed prize.

“Gotcha,” she wheezed.

Billy collapsed onto the grass. “Ohhh, thank god.”

Salem? He just blinked at her. Like he hadn’t just led them on the most stressful chase of her entire existence.

Agatha glared. “You planned that, didn’t you?”

Salem purred.

Agatha hated him.

Billy, still gasping for air, rolled over and checked his phone. His face blanched.“Oh, shit.”

Agatha tensed. “What?”

Billy turned the screen toward her. A text from you.

< The Other Mrs. Harkness: Just leaving the shops! Be home soon! Love you! xx >

Agatha screeched. “WE HAVE TO GET BACK NOW.” She sprinted up the porch steps, Salem squirming in her arms as she kicked the door open. Billy stumbled in behind her, wheezing.

“We-made it-” Billy gasped, nearly collapsing.

Agatha barely heard him. She was too busy staring at the disaster in her arms. Salem was filthy. His tiny paws were caked in mud, his belly streaked with dirt, and his once-fluffy tail was now a twig-covered disaster.

Agatha groaned in horror. “Oh, hell no.”

Billy finally looked up-and snorted. “Shit, look at him-”

“Teenager, if you laugh, I swear to all that is Holy-”

But it was too late. Billy was howling, doubling over as Agatha stood there, a furious, disheveled witch, holding a mud-covered kitten at arm’s length.

“I hate him,” Agatha declared. “I hate this damn cat.”

Salem just blinked at her.

Billy wiped his eyes, still giggling. “Okay, okay-so what now?”

Agatha sighed, already dreading the answer. “We have to wash him.”

Billy froze.

Then, he took a step back. “Ohhhh, no. I like having my skin intact.”

Agatha glared. “So do I, but here we are!”

Billy grimaced, but one look at Salem’s absolute state and he knew they had no choice.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But you’re holding him.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Like I trust you not to drop him?”

Billy grumbled under his breath, but followed as Agatha marched to the bathroom, Salem still calmly chilling in her grip. That wouldn’t last. They filled the sink with warm water, and Agatha braced herself before gently lowering Salem in…

Chaos.

The second his paws touched the water, Salem exploded into a frenzy of wriggling, splashing, and absolute betrayal.

Agatha hissed as tiny claws latched onto her arm. Billy yelped, dodging a wave of soapy water as Salem twisted like a feral eel.

“He’s fighting for his LIFE!” Billy screeched.

“SO AM I!”

Salem shrieked, flailing as Agatha tried to scrub the mud from his fur. “Hold still, you little-”

Billy was no help, standing at a safe distance, barely containing his cackles.

“Billy, DO SOMETHING!”

Billy, still wheezing, reluctantly grabbed a tiny washcloth and dabbed at Salem’s ears. Salem responded by kicking him in the hand. He snorted. “Oh, he hates us.”

Agatha gritted her teeth. “I hated him first.”

By the time they finally rinsed the little demon off and wrapped him in a fluffy towel, Agatha was soaked, scratched, and one minor inconvenience away from summoning a hellstorm. Salem? He just snuggled into the towel and purred.

Billy grinned. “Awww. Now he’s all clean and cute again.”

Agatha glared. “Get it away from me.”

Billy giggled, scooping up the bundle of fluff. “C’mon, don’t be mad at him.”

Agatha whirled on him. “If Y/N asks, you played with Salem indoors all day, and he definitely didn’t escape, roll in mud, and nearly give me a damn stroke.”

Billy saluted. “Mum’s the word.”

The moment you stepped through the door, you beamed, setting your bags down and immediately making your way to Agatha. “Hello, my love,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing yourself against her, breathing her in. You pulled back slightly, your brows furrowing.

“Um… Agatha,” you frowned, taking a step back. “Why are you all sweaty?”

Billy exploded. He doubled over, absolutely howling with laughter, clutching his stomach like he’d been physically struck.

Agatha scowled at him. “Shut it, Billy.”

You blinked at her in confusion. “No, seriously, what were you doing?”

Billy wheezed, barely able to breathe. “Oh my god, this is the best day of my life-”

Agatha shot him a murderous glare before turning back to you, attempting to compose herself. “I was-” she paused, eyes flicking to the still-damp Salem in Billy’s arms. “-exercising.”

Billy shrieked with laughter.

You squinted. “…You hate exercise.”

Agatha huffed. “Well, maybe I decided to start a new routine, ever think of that?”

Billy collapsed onto the couch, breathless. “Agatha, please stop, I can’t breathe-”

Your eyes flicked between them. “…Okay, what is going on?”

Billy snorted again, but Agatha grabbed your wrist, steering you toward the kitchen before you could investigate further.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “You must be starving, let’s get you a snack-”

Billy cackled behind you. “Yeah, gotta refuel after all that exercise.”

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the bedroom. You lay still, curled beneath the covers, your chest tight with a weight you couldn’t explain. Nothing had happened. No nightmare, no bad memory, no reason to feel this way.

And yet… you did.

Anxiety sat heavy in your ribs, buzzing under your skin like static. It was familiar, these waves of unease that came and went with no real trigger. You knew it would pass eventually-it always did-but right now, it clung to you like damp air, thick and suffocating. You barely noticed the way Agatha stirred beside you until you felt her shift, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Morning, my love,” she murmured, voice warm with sleep as she pressed a lazy kiss to your temple.

You managed a soft hum in response, but you didn’t turn to her, still staring blankly at the ceiling.

That was all it took for Agatha to pause.

Her hand, which had begun to trace slow circles along your arm, stilled. She frowned slightly, eyes scanning your face, her sharp mind already picking apart your quietness. “…What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice gentle now.

“Nothing,” you whispered, but it wasn’t convincing.

Agatha was silent for a beat. Then, she nudged at your shoulder until you finally rolled to face her. Her gaze softened as she took in your features- the way your brows were faintly drawn together, the distant look in your eyes, the tension you carried in your jaw. She knew that look. That wasn’t exhaustion. It wasn’t sadness. It was that deep, uneasy feeling that crept into you sometimes, the one you couldn’t shake.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, her touch impossibly gentle. “Is it one of those mornings, my love?”

You swallowed, nodding hesitantly. Agatha exhaled, her hand shifting to cradle your face. Her thumb brushed against your cheek, grounding, steady. “Okay,” she murmured simply. “Then we’ll take it slow today.”

No teasing. No urging you to snap out of it. Just quiet understanding. Because she knew that sometimes there wasn’t a reason. Sometimes you just felt off, and all she could do was be there, steady and unwavering, until the tide passed. She pressed a kiss to your forehead and then to the tip of your nose, her lips lingering just long enough to remind you that she’s here.

“Stay right here,” she whispered before slipping out of bed.

You blinked after her. “Where are you going?”

“Making tea,” she said simply. “Then getting the furballs. You need both of your emotional support creatures right now.”

A breath of laughter escaped you, the first one of the morning. She’d get you through this. She always did. Agatha returned a few moments later, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and Señor Scratchy nestled in the other. The rabbit gave a lazy twitch of his nose, entirely unbothered as Agatha carefully set him down beside you.

“There,” she murmured, smoothing back your hair with one hand. “Your oldest emotional support animal, delivered.”

You offered a tiny smile, fingers brushing over Señor Scratchy’s soft fur as he settled in beside you.

Agatha left the room to search for your other little beast, but… no sign of him. No scratching at the furniture. No tiny, smug little face peeking around the corner, waiting to pounce on her the moment she got too comfortable.

After a while of searching, she came back to the bedroom, ready to slide back into bed beside you, ready to pull you close again. But the moment she looked over at you she froze. Because there, already curled up against you, was Salem. Tiny, soft, and warm, his small body was tucked neatly against your side. His head rested just over your ribs, ears twitching slightly as he let out the faintest of purrs. Your fingers idly stroked through his fur, comforted by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

She’d been ready to roll her eyes, ready to shoot some snarky remark about how the little devil was always hogging your attention. But now, watching the way Salem stayed glued to you, offering his own quiet brand of affection- she… couldn’t. Because for once she and the cat were on the same side. Both of them watching over you, making sure you were okay.

Agatha’s lips twitched, just slightly. She reached out, fingertips brushing over your cheek before moving down to run along Salem’s back.

The kitten let out a soft chirp at the contact. Agatha rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “Don’t get used to this, furball,” she muttered, but she didn’t move him.

Instead, she lay back down beside you, arm draped securely around both you and the menace. You sighed softly, melting into the warmth of them both.

And for now that was enough.

The coven meeting was already off to a tense start.

Agatha sat at the head of the circle, arms crossed, looking bored as Jen droned on about some new-age magical theory she’d been obsessing over. But-inevitably-the conversation had spiraled into something else. Something snarky.

“So,” Jen mused, idly swirling the wine in her glass, “remind me again how we’re the ones who should be listening to you, Agatha? Last I checked, your leadership skills tend to leave entire covens dead.”

The room froze.

Alice sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Lilia shot Jen a warning look. Billy looked between everyone like he was waiting for a fight to break out. Your stomach tightened.

Agatha, however, barely reacted. She simply leaned back in her chair, a slow, knowing smirk curling over her lips. “Hmm.” She took a sip of her drink, tilting her head. “Well, if you ever want to test my abilities firsthand, I’d be happy to give you a little… demonstration.”

Jen scoffed but said nothing. The tension in the room sizzled. And then suddenly- a sound. A small, delicate trickle of liquid hitting the floor.

Jen frowned. “What the-?” And then she screamed. “OH, MY GODS!”

Every head snapped toward her. She had jumped up from her seat, face twisting in absolute horror- because there, in the very spot she’d been sitting, was Salem. Tiny. Innocent. Tail flicking ever so slightly. And Jen’s dress? Soaked.

Everyone stared.

There was a beat of absolute, stunned silence.

And then Agatha howled with laughter. It was delightful, full-bodied, wicked glee. She clutched her stomach, her head thrown back as pure joy erupted from her like a spell. “Oh-oh, this is brilliant,” she wheezed, swiping at a stray tear. “I-I didn’t even teach him that!”

You pressed your lips together, trying desperately not to laugh yourself. Billy had already lost it. He was howling, nearly tipping over in his chair.

Jen, however, was furious. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” she shrieked, glaring down at the little gremlin who had just ruined her expensive silk dress.

Salem simply blinked up at her. Then, as if to rub it in, he let out a tiny, smug little mew.

Agatha wiped at her eyes, still grinning. “Oh, that’s it. You, my little menace, might actually earn your keep around here.”

You gasped, mocking shock. “Agatha Harkness, are you saying you finally like him?”

Agatha snorted. “I said no such thing.” She smirked, reaching down to scratch behind Salem’s ears. “But I do appreciate a well-timed bit of vengeance.”

Salem purred.

Jen groaned. “I hate this coven.”

Lilia smirked. “Don’t lie.”

And as the conversation carried on, Agatha-without even thinking-scooped Salem into her lap, idly stroking his fur.

You bit your lip.

She was so softening up to him. It only took him peeing on poor Jen.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV, the gentle hum of a movie playing in the background. You were curled up against Agatha, her arm draped lazily over your waist, fingers tracing idle circles against your hip. It was peaceful, warm and perfect. Or at least, it would have been. If not for the relentless meowing from the floor.

You sighed, glancing down to find Salem sitting near the couch, tail flicking, big eyes staring directly at Agatha as he let out another tiny, insistent mew.

Agatha groaned, tilting her head back against the couch dramatically. “Oh, for Hecate’s sake. What do you want now, you tiny beast?”

Salem meowed again.

You giggled. “I think he wants to play.”

Agatha scoffed. “Play? I am not a child, nor am I his personal entertainer.”

You bit your lip, reaching into the side table drawer and pulling out a small, sleek object. “A shame,” you mused, clicking the button and casting a bright red dot onto the floor. “Because I specifically got this for you.”

Your wife eyed the laser pointer with an arched brow.

You grinned. “Come on. Just try it.”

She rolled her eyes but took it from your hand anyway, holding it between her fingers like it was something far beneath her. Then, with a sigh, she flicked the laser across the floor.

Instantly, Salem pounced.

You stifled a giggle as he skittered after the tiny red dot, tail puffed up, eyes wild with determination. Agatha moved it again, this time sending it up the wall, and Salem launched himself upward, scrambling as if he truly believed he could catch it.

You snorted. “Oh baby boy-”

Agatha blinked. And then, to your utter shock, she laughed. A real, genuine, breathless laugh. Not a smirk. Not a scoff. But laughter. “Oh, you absolute fool,” she chuckled, watching as Salem did an entire somersault trying to catch the dot.

You grinned, eyes sparkling as you watched her-really watched her. Her sharp edges were completely softened, her lips curled in pure amusement, her usually cunning eyes filled with something warm. Something fond. And that was when you knew she was gone. Agatha Harkness, powerful, ancient, no-nonsense witch, had been defeated by a kitten.

“You like him,” you teased, leaning into her side.

Agatha sniffed, flicking the laser one last time before shutting it off. “I tolerate him.”

You just smiled. “Mmmhmm.”

She pointed a warning finger at you. “Don’t push it, darling.” But as she tucked the pointer into the table drawer, her free hand absentmindedly reached down- fingertips brushing over Salem’s head in the lightest, quickest little pet like she thought you wouldn’t notice.

You bit your lip to keep from squealing. She liked him.

The air in the room was thick with anticipation as you stepped out of the bathroom, draped in the most sinfully delicate lingerie you had ever worn. You knew Agatha would lose all sense of composure the second she laid eyes on you- her wicked little smirk curling, her hands greedy, her voice slipping into that low, hungry rasp that always made you weak in the knees.

You were ready for her.

You sauntered forward, hips swaying, voice a sultry purr. “Agatha…”

No response.

Your smirk twitched. “Aggie?” you tried again, a little firmer.

Still-nothing.

Your brows furrowed. And then you saw her. Sprawled on her stomach on the bed, head propped up on one hand, while the other absentmindedly twirled a ribbon in front of Salem.

You gawked.

Your wife-the woman who, at any given moment, was seconds away from devouring you whole-was completely, entirely ignoring you.

Because she was playing with the cat.

“Agatha!”

Agatha hummed absently, still not looking at you. “One sec, darling. He’s about to-oh, good boy! Get it, little menace, get it-”

A stunned silence filled the air.

Your wife, the woman who once enchanted a maître d’ into giving her a better table just so she could stare at you under candlelight, was not even looking at you.

You, in this.

You clenched your fists. “Agatha.”

“Mm?” She twirled the ribbon again. “I think he’s figured out he can-ooh, yes, baby, pounce!”

Oh.

You let out a horrified gasp. “Oh my god.”

At last, her head snapped up, her amused expression melting into mild confusion. “What?”

The moment her gaze landed on you, standing in your little lace ensemble, looking every bit the goddess you were meant to be-her lips parted, appreciation flashing in her eyes. “Oh,” she breathed, shifting slightly. “You look-”

But it was too late.

You threw your hands in the air. “Are you serious?!”

Agatha blinked. “What?”

“What? What?!” You gestured wildly between yourself and Salem, who was now gnawing on the ribbon. “I have been in there for thirty minutes getting all dressed up to seduce you and you didn’t even notice me come out because you were too busy playing with the cat?”

Agatha opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “…Okay, but-”

Your glare darkened, daring her to finish that sentence. She wisely did not.

Instead, she exhaled heavily, sitting up. “Baby, you do look absolutely ravishing, and I will make it up to you in ways that will-”

You huffed, already turning on your heel. “Nope! You can play with him tonight, because you’re clearly not playing with me.”

Agatha’s eyes widened. “Wait- baby-”

You stormed to the closet, snatching your silk robe and yanking it over your shoulders.

Agatha scrambled off the bed in a panic. “Darling, wait let’s not be hasty-”

But you were already out the door.

Her head turned to the tiny mew that sounded from the bed. Agatha slowly turned her head. Salem, now stretched lazily across the sheets, let out a self-satisfied purr. She glared at him. “You did that on purpose.”

Agatha growled under her breath, then bolted after you, her heartbeat pounding as she practically skidded into the hallway.

She had some serious groveling to do.

“Baby wait listen, my love please-”

You ignored her, storming toward the kitchen with all the regal ferocity of a woman scorned, silk robe billowing behind you. You snatched a bottle of wine from the counter, popping the cork with a little huff. “Hope you and Salem have a wonderful night together,” you muttered as you poured yourself a glass, the irony of this situation not lost on you.

“Oh, come on, love-”

You took a slow sip, not even looking at her. “Don’t you have a ribbon to twirl?”

Agatha winced. She deserved that. Desperate, she softened her voice. “My perfect, stunning, goddess of a wife,” she pleaded, looking up at you with her most pathetic expression, hands resting desperately on your thighs. “My heart, my soul, my reason for breathing-”

You scoffed, turning away. A sharp gasp left your lips as she spun you around, crowding you back against the kitchen counter, her hands bracketing either side of you.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” she murmured, voice low, dangerous.

Your lips parted, but Agatha was already there- pressing forward, her mouth ghosting over your cheek, then your jaw, the scent of her dark perfume flooding your senses.

“You’re angry with me,” she mused, her lips brushing against your ear, making you shudder. “Rightfully so.”

You swallowed. “Damn right I am.” You tugged at a lock of her hair. “You ignored me.”

She whimpered dramatically. “I loathe myself for it.”

You huffed, finally glancing up at her. “You should.”

She hummed. Amused. And then, lightning fast, she gripped your waist, hoisting you up onto the counter, stepping between your legs before you could even blink. Heat pooled in your stomach.

“Tell me, Angel…” She traced a fingertip along your inner thigh, barely ghosting over your skin. “What kind of apology do you require?”

You opened your mouth, but Agatha tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at her. Her dark eyes were molten, hungry, the power thrumming beneath her skin almost overwhelming. You ached for her. And she loved it.

Your fingers twitched in the silk of your robe. “I should make you suffer for this.”

Agatha grinned. “Oh, sweetheart…” She leaned in, her breath hot against your lips. “By all means-try.”

And then she kissed you; hard, deep, claiming you with every ounce of dominance and desperation in her being. You melted. Your fingers clawed into her shirt, dragging her closer, but she tut-tutted, pulling back just enough to tease.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she murmured, lips brushing yours. “Not so fast.”

You whined. “Agatha-”

She smirked. “What’s wrong, my love?” Her hands tightened on your waist, keeping you firmly in place. “You were so eager to walk away just a minute ago.”

Your breath hitched. Damn her and her smug, sinful mouth. “Are you going to make it up to me, or just tease?”

Agatha growled. And then she bit your lip. You gasped, and she devoured the sound, her kiss turning filthy-all tongue and teeth and raw, desperate possession. Your head spun. She pulled back, her thumb tracing the damp swell of your lips.

“Let’s get one thing straight, darling,” she murmured, eyes blazing. “I own you.”

You whimpered.

Her smirk was wicked. “That’s what I should’ve been paying attention to.” She squeezed your hips, dragging you flush against her. “My wife, my perfect, beautiful, insatiable wife-”

She kissed your throat, smirking against your skin when your pulse stuttered. “You want my attention?” she murmured, biting down.

You moaned.

She grinned. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purred. “You have it.”

And then she took you.

The coven was rowdy tonight.

Lilia was yelling at Alice about something to do with the rules, Jen was already two drinks in, and you were curled up in Agatha’s lap because, apparently, sitting in your own chair was unacceptable when you had a perfectly good wife to perch on. Not that she was complaining.

But the chaos truly began when Salem decided that game pieces were his mortal enemies. It started with a single, mischievous paw batting at a game piece. Then another. Then total chaos. Lilia yelped when Salem launched himself across the board, sending dice and cards flying.

“Oh, for God’s sake-Salem, you little goblin!” she huffed, scooping the kitten up before he could pounce again. “You menace! I swear-”

“Excuse me.” Agatha’s voice was sharp.

Lilia froze. The entire room went silent. All eyes snapped to Agatha, who was now glaring at Lilia like she’d personally offended her.

“Show some respect to my cat.”

Silence.

Utter, shocked, jaw-dropping silence.

“Holy shit,” Jen breathed, eyes wide.

Alice, meanwhile, looked far too smug. With an almost ceremonial flourish, she held out her hand, palm up. Jen groaned, digging into her pocket before slapping a crisp twenty-dollar bill into Alice’s palm.

“I told you she’d come around,” Alice said, grinning.

“You gambled on this?” Agatha huffed, unimpressed.

Alice grinned. “We knew it was only a matter of time.”

Lilia, still holding Salem, just stared at Agatha in disbelief. “You hate this cat.”

Agatha huffed, reaching over to pluck Salem from Lilia’s arms and pull him into her lap. “I tolerate him.”

Salem immediately curled up, purring against Agatha’s chest. Your heart melted.

“She loves him,” Billy gasped.

“I do not-”

“You so do!”

Agatha groaned, running a hand down her face. But she didn’t push Salem off. She even gave him a little scratch behind the ears. And that was all the proof they needed that your wife had officially been defeated and your precious little kitten had won.

The second the coven left, you pounced. Agatha barely had time to react before you tackled her onto the couch, straddling her waist and capturing her lips in a long, deep kiss. She hummed in approval, hands settling on your hips, gripping you firmly. But when you pulled back, you had a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Say it.”

Agatha blinked. “Say what, darling?”

You smirked. “Say you love him.”

Agatha groaned, letting her head fall back against the cushions. “Oh, for the love of-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you interrupted, leaning down to kiss along her jaw. “No deflecting, Mrs. Harkness.”

She huffed, tilting her head to give you better access-because, despite her grumbling, she was still weak for your kisses. “I tolerate him.”

You giggled, trailing kisses down her neck. “Say it properly.”

“No.”

More kisses. More sly little touches. Agatha’s fingers tightened on your waist.

“You love him,” you purred against her skin. “I know you do.”

Agatha sighed-long and dramatic, as if she were suffering some great inconvenience. “Fine,” she muttered. “I love the damn cat.”

You squealed in victory, throwing your arms around her neck and kissing her again, all grinning lips and giddy little noises. And despite everything, Agatha laughed. A soft, warm, genuine laugh, as she held you tight against her.

She rolled you over, pinning you beneath her, her blue eyes glinting. “You’re impossible,” she murmured.

You just grinned. “And yet you love me.”

Agatha sighed dramatically. “Yes,” she admitted, brushing her nose against yours. “I really do.”

Bonus Agatha and Salem:

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha x reader #kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha coven of chaos

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ardienothesieno · 3 months ago

Text

taking notes on the hermitcraft charity livestream for my friend @pookapufferfish and also just anyone else who had to miss it 👍

these are going to be all over the place lol

i started my note-keeping like an hour or so into the stream so i dont have a lot of stuff from the beginning...

but: grian and scar opened the stream, showed off some of the items up for auction (like real wild life snails. i want one so bad but they're MASSIVELY out of my price range...)

POST-POSTING EDIT: I FORGOT THERE WAS AN IMP AND SKIZZ PODCAST. it wasnt really a traditional podcast though, martyn was asking them questions, a group of hermits would vote on who they thought had the best answer, and whoever lost got shocked by grian.

my most notable takeaway from the shock-cast is that if impulse could have any superpowers he'd want control over time, and skizz would want the ability to heal people. mmm yes food for the superhero aus

and then ren busted out this custom hermitcraft guitar that's also up for auction and played a song by green day

and then we got treebark content.martyn and ren ran the main stream for like 20 minutes

also we hit ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS really freaking fast. and they spun the wheel of chaos and it landed on ✨hermit boxing✨

ROBO-CLEO

okay now all that follows is liveblogging

i keep recognizing people in chat. like not even from mcyt spaces ive seen like three people who i know from skurry streams

martyn using they/them for cleo pog!!

THERE'S A JELLIE MURAL IN THE MINECRAFT OFFICE AWWW

irl guess the build / drawing... drawing things on whiteboards or building things and then guessing

cub is wearing a bob ross wig.

jimmy has built skizz's giraffe...

SKIZZ GIRAFFE REDEMPTION ARC GOES HORRIBLY WRONG

pearl has gorgeous handwriting

grian has obtained a cat keyboard and jimmy is beatboxing along

GEM GIRAFFE REDEMPTION ARC GOES INCREDIBLY RIGHT

they're gonna auction off the terrible drawings. i want one.

round two of guess the drawing / build has the most unhinged prompts ever. including the cursed creature mumbo built in the last permitmaster

it has gone off the rails incredibly fast

grian is just torturing everyone with nerf guns and whoopie cushions

jimmy is left handed

martyn's doing a dollar drive and it's not letting me donate because it doesnt take debit cards. now i need to somehow convince my dad to let me use his credit card... i'll pay him back but. gah. the hassle.

pearl and some person fighting in the background (who was apparently karn, her partner!)

TWO HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDD

joe and cub are boxing!! cub is still dressed like bob ross

it's been like 20 minutes and martyn is still going strong with the name reading. and about 30,000 dollars have been raised in that time alone

dimension 20 reference!

martyn's free from yelling names for now... in half an hour we raised SEVENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS

zed and tango hosting the QUIET GAMESSSSSSS. 3 teams of two, imp and gem, ren and skizz, GRIAN AND JIMMYYYY. basically just a bunch of weird minigames where you have to be as quiet as possible. scored on how quiet you are and how well you do

first minigame is moving marbles with spoons but the spoons are attached to a cowbell

gem and impulse did good. skizz and ren did better then i expected. jimmy and grain instantly dissolved into anarchy. jimmy and grian had the most marbles, skizz and ren were surprisingly the quietest

okay the next game is so weird. knocking around ping pong balls with party popper blow kazoo things. but you hold the kazoo for your partner so it's weirdly intimate

someone in the chat described it as nightmare blunt rotation and that the most accurate description yet

someone else in chat has named skizz and ren team rizz and i hate everything

also i realize now that if theyd have done this with commonly shipped pairs the fandom would never shut up

despite the absolute chaos that was happening grian and jimmy won that round on both number of balls and quietness. grian may have slapped jimmy at one point. (he totally did)

the last one is EVEN MORE COMPLICATED. one person blindfolded navigating a minefield of bubblewrap and rubber chickens. another with jingle bells on their ankles and a big stick to smack their partner around.

gem immediately has grabbed the big stick with an evil look on her face

impulse is INCREDIBLY clumsy and gem is just whaling on him

"IT'S ALL BUBBLES!!!?!?" -- impulsesv

ren and skizz have a STRATEGY

ren is doing adorable little shuffley step-steps. "Robo-penguin Ren... Renguin" -- Zedaph

JIMMY IS MOUTHING "HELP ME" OMG.... GRIANS GOING TO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM...

but theyve got the best strategy yet actually grian's only kinda beating the shit out of jimmy... they might win this...

GRIAN AND JIMMY TAKE THE WHOLE THING HOME!!!!!!!! SKYBLINGS VICTORY!!!!!!! THE ONE NO ONE EXPECTED!!!!!!

wheel spin for 200,000 landed on "tortilla slap challenge" whichll be weird

the artworks from guess the build have gone up on the auction site and scar is very horrified over something skizz drew... a "sentient sock" that looks very... sus.

speed TCG time!!!!!!! i dont know much about TCG so im gonna try and maybe try and study a bit during this part (also also every 1000 dollars donated each player gets an extra item card)

joe is doing live TCG sound effects

neither joe or ren cant flip a coin to save their lives

pearl v cub. ren v joe. ren v cub.

TCG IS TOO CHAOTIC I CANT FOCUS ON TRIGONOMETRY LIKE THIS

also i need to learn how to play this it looks so fun

this is HEATED. and ren keeps getting armor stands and is so pissed about it

REN TAKES THE VICTORY!!! and they raised like 20,000 dollars in the process holy cow "THIS IS THE MOST EXPENSIVE GAME OF TCG EVER TO BE PLAYED" -- Joe Hills

ONE MILLION DOLLARS RAISED FOR GAMERS OUTREACH IN TOTAL

THREE HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

300k wheel spin has unlocked NERF GUNSSSSS

also it's "donate x amount of dollars get your name on a sign on hermitcraft" time

cleobot is back!

scar is having a fantastic time running the main stream

GRIAN HAS COME IN AND BARRAGED SCAR WITH BULLETS.

it's tortilla tiiiiiiiiiiime

twich has a personal vendetta against me. it gives me ads right when the exciting things are starting.

scar is apparently on the board of directors at gamer's outreach now!!

IMPULSE V JIMMY. a draw. they are both invulnerable to tortillas.

TANGO V ZED. tango loses through laughter

IMPULSE V ZED. zed didnt get a single slap on impulse. a draw.

also all the hermits really really like to play scissors. in rock paper scissors.

"she removed both of my heads from my body..." -- RentheDog

THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING (ren and false)

SKIZZ V GRIAN TORTILLA FIGHT. skizz wins lolol

...im buying a sign

gem signed pearl's ankle.

OKAY I GOT REALLY DISTRACTED FROM MY LIVEBLOGGING. THERE WAS WAR. THERE WAS A MASSIVE NERF GUN WAR. IT INTERRUPTED THE SIGN PLACING.

and yeah... i bought a sign <3

but i dont even know how to cover the half of the nerf war. but there was a lot of hotguy and cuteguy action

grian was even using two pistols instead of a bigger nerf gun... just like cuteguy in ddvau... omg...

at one point scar became a tank. and jimmy wheeled him behind enemy lines and he sniped four people and won the round

and theyre starting to wrap up now, martyn's doing another dollar drive. we're at $375,000...

everyone is signing the pc in the background of martyn's mad line-spitting

TEN HOUR MARK

we need 10,000 dollars... then we'll hit 400k and martyn can rest his vocal cords...

SPARKBIRD GOT MENTIONED

since it's been brought up like 13 times on the stream today. hey. you. you, the person reading this. you just lost the game :3

FOUR HUNDRED THOUSANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

holy cow. that wraps up day one!!!!

im gonna reblog this post in a bit with all the screenshots i took. because i took a lot of them lol.

link to my day two liveblog

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fantasticfourthwingimagines · 28 days ago

Note

Hi! I was hoping to make a request for a Bodhi x Aetos!reader where she’s Dain’s younger sister (in Violet’s year). I was thinking maybe it could be an established relationship that nobody knows about since he’s a marked one and she’s Aetos’s daughter. I love the prompt of accidentally falling asleep on each other, so maybe they get caught with something like that? I love all of your imagines!

AH! I love the idea of an Aetos!Reader! I haven't done one of those yet! And her with sweet Bodhi? LOVED IT. Thank you so much for your sweet words and the request! I hope you enjoy it! <3

If you hadn’t trusted Violet you would’ve been dead.

You’d known her your whole life, you knew how smart she was, how attuned she was to her instincts, so when she yelled, “Get down!”

You didn’t hesitate. If you had, it might’ve cost more than the burns on your back.

It would have cost your life, like it did so many of your squadmates.

You took a deep breath, desperate to inhale the disinfectant odor that covered the infirmary in the hopes it would erase the stench of burnt flesh from your nostrils. Even if it did though you’d still see their embers - still hear the screams echoing in the silence between heartbeats.

The infirmary was filled with faint light this late. Basically just enough for the healers to see if necessary. You were supposed to be sleeping, at least that’s what you had told Dain after he had spent the last several hours hovering over you. The care was sweet, and you remembered the terrified look on his face after half your squad was incinerated, but there was only so much of your brother’s company you could take at a time.

But you should try to get some sleep. You were going to be expected back in classes tomorrow like everyone else, despite the lingering sting on your back. So you closed your eyes, willing your mind to come up with something, anything else.

“I’ve heard counting things can be beneficial to sleep.” Alisis’s voice spoke in your mind.

You wanted to make a smartass comment back, but couldn’t even find the energy. Not when your dragon was attempting to help. “What do you suggest I count?”

She pretended to consider for a moment. “Hmmm, perhaps . . . the number of times the marked one has risked punishment to be by your side?”

As soon as the words floated into your mind, you felt a warm, familiar hand cupping your cheek.

Your eyes opened to the only face that made the world feel a little less broken. You took in the soft features, the dark curls, the warm eyes, and for the first time in hours, a soft smile fell on your lips. “Hey.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Bodhi said, his hand brushing back some loose strands of hair from your face.

“Wasn’t asleep,” you murmured. “I can’t sleep on my stomach.” Your eyes fluttered shut at the gentle brush of his fingers, so soft, so safe, it almost hurt.

“I think I can help with that . . . If you’re up for it.” A grin tugged at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Within seconds, your narrow cot was crowded, but neither of you seemed to care. Your head settled against Bodhi’s shoulder, his shirt soft beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady. You sprawled halfway across him, your thigh draped over his hips, your fingertips tracing idle patterns on his chest, grounding yourself in him.

His scent, sage and smoke and something uniquely Bodhi, wrapped around you, easing the panic still lodged somewhere behind your ribs.

Bodhi was so careful to not put his hands anywhere near your back. One hand was stroking your hair while the other traced lines up and down the thigh that was thrown over his hips.

But something was wrong.

Bodhi’s warmth surrounded you, but it wasn’t enough to hide how tightly his body held itself, like even in rest, he was bracing for something worse. HIs hand moved through your hair with practiced gentleness, but his breathing was uneven. Too short. Too shallow. And he kept swallowing, over and over, like he was trying to keep something down. Grief, maybe? Or fear?

As soon as it happened, Dain had been the first at your side, rushing to you despite his wingleader status, and pulling you off the ground. But over his shoulder you’d seen Bodhi’s face, and the memory still scorched you deeper than the flames.

Terror. Panic. Anger. It had all been written across his features, raw and unguarded. And you knew why.

You tilted your head back, and when you winced as it stretched your skin, his hands tightened on you. “I’m okay, Bodhi.” You whispered, your hand soothing over his chest. His heart thundered beneath your palm - too fast, too frantic.

Bodhi’s face buried in your hair, and he let out a shaky breath. “I wanted to run to you,” he choked, his breath catching like the words hurt to speak.

You had wanted him to. “I know you did.”

“I saw the flames and everything just - shut down. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.” His hand on your leg tightened, digging into the skin.

You lifted your head so you could look at him, sinking your fingers into his curls, something that calmed him on the rare occasion it was needed.

It didn’t help this time.

“I knew that’s where your squad was. All I could see was the fire, and then the screaming started, and it was like I was back there again.”

He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes years in the past, no doubt reliving the day that changed his life forever.

“Hey. Come back to me.” You said, guiding his gaze to yours as your thumb swept over his cheekbone. “I’m still here. Varrish’s dragon didn’t kill me.” You said, speaking matter of factly to keep him locked in the present.

His jaw clenched, and he blinked like he was waking from a nightmare. The eyes that had been so far away moments ago, focused back on you, and after a moment he nodded. “If one more person I love gets burned,” he said slowly, “I don’t think I’d stop. I’d kill whoever was responsible for it.”

A chill went down your spine at the fierceness in his tone. Bodhi wasn’t one to make threats, but you had no doubt in your mind that he meant it. You couldn’t think of anything to say, so instead you decided to take a page out of his book and lighten the situation. “Oh, so you love me, huh?” You teased, even though he told you every day.

To your delight, the smallest smile appeared on his face. “Mhmm,” he agreed, and he started massaging the back of your neck with his fingers. “I’d shout it from the top of the quadrant if you’d let me.”

Your eyes closed at the relief his touch sent through your body. “That would be a terrible idea.”

You felt Bodhi’s nose bump against yours, and your breath caught at the closeness. “I can handle your brother.”

Your heart started pumping much faster, and it had nothing to do with the pain. “Aren’t you one of his Section Leaders?”

“Don’t care,” he replied simply. His hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face toward his, and then his lips were on yours.

It was the first thing to make you feel something other than grief today.

You slipped your fingers into his hair, clinging to the feeling, this flicker of happiness, of love. However, when you tried to get closer, pain laced through your back, and you couldn’t hide your wince.

He pulled away at once, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” Bodhi asked, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

You nodded. “Just hurts a little bit still.” You admitted.

“You should get some sleep.” When he saw the look in your eyes that soft smile appeared again. “I’ll stay.”

You loved that you didn’t even have to ask. Somehow, Bodhi always knew what you needed, better than anyone. Even your family.

As you settled your head back on his shoulder, and his hands resumed their stroking of your skin, you didn’t miss the slight tremble in them.

And as your body began to relax, feeling safer than you had all day, you realized, maybe he needed this as much as you did.

——————————

“What the fuck?!”

Definitely not how you wanted to wake up.

Your eyes opened to the worst possible sight: your brother standing over your bed, looking like he might combust.

You and Bodhi were a full disaster of limbs - his arm still wrapped around your waist, your leg draped over his, your face half-buried in his chest. There was no talking your way out of this.

Bodhi seemed to wake at the same time as you, his hands tightening around your body for a moment as he let out a groan. “Well, good morning to you too, Aetos.”

“Get your hands off my sister right now, Durran.” Dain practically growled.

Bodhi tilted his head down to look at you. “Do you want me to take my hands off you?”

Okay, looks like you’re doing this.

You sighed and burrowed closer, grateful it didn’t hurt this time. “Not really, no.”

Without even looking at him, you knew Bodhi was smirking when he turned back to your brother. “She said no.” He told him, wrapping his arms more securely around you.

Dain looked from you to Bodhi, and you could have sworn the vein on his forehead was about to pop. “How long has this been going on?”

You bit your bottom lip. “Longer than you want to know.”

He took his hands and rubbed them over his face, and you could have sworn he aged ten years right in front of your eyes. “What the fuck are you thinking?!”

A little bit of fire formed in your chest. It didn’t matter how pissed Dain was at you. You would not let him say anything horrible about Bodhi. “I was thinking about how Bodhi is the best man I’ve ever met. How he’s kind and generous, how he never goes a day without telling me he loves me-”

But Dain interrupted you before you could say anything else. “You think I care that it’s Bodhi?”

You blinked.

“Gods,” Dain dragged a hand through his hair. “If it had to be one of them, I’m glad it’s him, but damn it-”

This time, when he looked at you, it wasn’t anger or judgment. It was something worse - worry. The kind that settled deep in your chest and didn’t let go.

“Dad’s going to kill you.”

Your body tensed at his words. That was something you refused to think about. The thought of your dad finding out about you and Bodhi made you feel sick to your stomach. “He’d have to care enough about me to kill me.” You said lightly, too lightly. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, and from the way Bodhi’s hand started stroking your leg, you knew you hadn’t hidden it well.

“He will about this.” Dain said, his gaze pinning you like he hated to be right.

He was right. You knew he was right. If either you or Dain did anything that would affect his image, he would care, and you didn’t want to even start to think about the kind of punishment he would inflict on you for it. “Are you going to-”

“Of course not! Is that really what you think of me-?” Dain started to say, looking hurt that you would even imply it.

“Let’s not pretend you don’t have a history of running to your father with information to try and impress him.” Bodhi’s voice was colder than you’d ever heard it, sharp enough to cut.

What was he talking about?

Dain’s jaw tensed for a moment as he stared at Bodhi, “I’d never do anything to risk my sister, Durran.”

“Neither would I.” Bodhi replied, tightening his possessive grip around you.

The two of them stared at each other in a standoff for a few moments before Dain turned his gaze back to you. “Please, don’t get caught.” He said, sounding pained.

You nodded, but a knot twisted in your stomach. Something important had just passed between them, something you didn't understand, but you didn’t say anything about it until Dain walked away, leaving the two of you alone. You sat up in bed, looking at Bodhi in confusion. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?”

Bodhi, however, ignored your question, trailing his fingertips up and down your back. “How does your back feel?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Better, now answer my question.”

His hands slid off of you, as he eased his way off the cot. “I’m going to go see if I can find a Healer to give you the all clear.”

“Bodhi-” you started to interrupt, even more concerned now that he was actively avoiding your question.

Before you could finish your sentence though, he leaned in and stole a sweet kiss that made your heart flutter. It ended all too quickly though, and when you opened your eyes, Bodhi was looking at you with his eyes full of affection. “Have I told you I love you yet today?”

“We’re going to talk about this later.” You said, not taking the bait.

Bodhi sighed, then pressed a quick peck to the tip of your nose. “Later.” When he started to walk away though, you called him back.

“I love you too,” you told him with a soft smile.

Bodhi’s returning smile was breathtaking. “Good. Since you’re stuck with me.”

You could think of no better person to be stuck with, but as he left, that knot in your stomach didn’t loosen.

#bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran x you #bodhi durran imagine #fourth wing imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--"

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding.

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs.

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper?

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes.

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer.

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #butterflygirl738 #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #captain america #avengers

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wayward-dreamer · 29 days ago

Text

Drop The Charges

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Plus size!Reader

Word count: 4.1k

Summary: After a car accident a few weeks prior, you were determined to make the asshole that hit you pay. Unfortunately he was incredibly handsome and convincing as he comes up with a pretty enticing way to get you to not press charges. (no outbreak!au)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, swearing, mention of minor car accident/damage to vehicle, reader being unnecessarily mean and stressing Joel out but girlie's going through some shit okay?, mention of past relationship/bad breakup, minor mention of body insecurity, age gap (reader in her early 30s, Joel in his early 40s) heated argument, ultimatum, Joel's assertive and reader is into it, strangers to lovers, smut: dirty talk, oral (f! receiving), Joel's a capital M Munch™️, using panties as a gag, apologies, fluff. Reader described with female anatomy, no use of y/n.

A/N: This was written for @clubsoft's Have You Ever Tried This One? Writing challenge. This was such a fun prompt to write, I hope you like it, Dulsè! I may or may not already have thought about part 2 for this! Happy reading everyone! <3

Main Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

You walked through the foyer of the courthouse, your purse slung over your shoulder and your light gray trench coat fluttering from the wind in the large expanse of the vaulted space, as you followed behind the lawyer that had been assigned to you from the court. Your black heels clacked against the marble floor as he led you towards a hallway, with doors on each side all marked with numbers engraved on the dark wood. He stopped in front of a door marked ‘6’ and twisted the door handle, holding it open for you and allowing you to step in first. You walked in and dropped your purse on one of the chairs at the conference table, turning around and folding your arms across your chest as you waited for the man that followed behind you.

Joel Miller stepped through the threshold, rubbing his palms together as he looked around the room and avoided looking at you. You glanced between him and your lawyer, giving him a small nod to let him know that you were okay for him to leave.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” he reminded you before he closed the door behind him.

An awkward silence fell in the room as you glared at Joel, watching as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his other sliding into the front pocket of his dark jeans. He was wearing an olive green shirt that was tucked into the denim, his sleeves rolled up his forearms which he had clearly done on the walk from the courtroom to this empty conference room you now occupied. Unfortunately for you and this situation, he was incredibly attractive, with specks of grey in his dark locks and salt and pepper stubble across his jaw. If you didn’t have unnecessary beef with him, maybe you would’ve asked if he was interested in having dinner with you.

“So, you’re the one who asked to talk this out,” you said, your sharp tone startling him a little. “Start talking, Miller.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s got it out for me, sweetheart,” he countered, taking a small step towards you. “For no good reason, I’ll add, so why don’t you tell me why you’re doing this.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you argued.

“Okay, you know what? You don’t but you gotta stop this, alright?” he reasoned, holding his hands up in defence. “I stopped and helped you out, gave you my information, just like I was meant to. So I don’t understand how we even got here.”

Honestly, you had no idea how you got there, either. It all started with that fateful morning a few weeks ago, when you were driving to work with red, puffy eyes that your make-up did nothing to cover up. You had just broken up with your boyfriend the night before, well, he had broken up with you. It had been awful, you screamed yourself hoarse as you tried to make sense of why and of course as was the case with so many men, he didn’t give you a good reason. He had never said it outright but you knew he had issues with your appearance, subtly referring to your weight or the way you dressed. In hindsight, you had never been happier to be out of that relationship, but at the time it felt like your whole world was crashing down around you.

The morning after he broke your heart, you had decided work would be a good distraction and had left a little earlier than you normally did. Little did you know, you would be at a red light and then rear ended by the black truck behind you. You had cursed up a storm inside your car as you found a spot to pull over, slamming the door shut as you met the guy halfway and started hurling insults at him. You remembered him apologizing, he gave you a “seriously, I have no idea what happened, I’m an idiot” and then took out his phone to exchange information with you for both of your insurance companies. You had reluctantly gone ahead with it, but inside you had been fuming. You weren’t in the right headspace for days after, far too scarred from the breakup and you just wanted some type of justice brought. Your car had been dented but the damage wasn’t all that bad, but you still managed to find a way to a lawyer and then to a court date. You were surprised you had managed to drag it that far.

When you stepped into the courtroom earlier, the overwhelming feeling of guilt swept over you as you waited for your case to be called. You could see Joel across the aisle, hands clasped as his jaw clenched and didn’t meet your gaze even when it was time to stand in front of the judge. The older, white haired man behind the bench tried to make sense of the situation, but when he also expressed the fact that this could’ve been handled outside of his courtroom, you knew you had been caught in your exaggeration of the situation. You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you learnt that Joel was just a simple man, a contractor with his own business he had with his brother, a single father to a 14 year old girl and just living a quiet life in their Austin home.

Blaming this all on your broken heart was not going to hold up in court, and you had no idea how to salvage this. Just when you were about to admit your wrongdoing and ready to face the consequence, Joel had cleared his throat, briefly made eye contact with you before addressing the judge.

“Your honor, if we can find a way to sort this out, even just ten minutes-”

With a declaration of a recess and a small beat of his gavel, that was how you found yourself in that room with Joel standing across from you. His gaze was oddly penetrating, as if he was trying to figure you out and you didn’t miss the brief once over he gave you, his eyes taking in your curves before looking back at you. You couldn’t help but admire him either, your annoyance mingling with another feeling, something you never would've thought was possible to feel towards someone you barely knew.

“I’m not gonna attempt to make you tell me why you did this, you had your reasons, as messy as they might be. I’m just asking you to drop the charges. That’s all.”

You knew that you should. There was just no way to do that without admitting your fault in all of this, though. You pressed your lips together, gulping nervously as you began to feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Slowly, he walked towards you as he no doubt sensed your hesitation. There was a strange charge in the air between you as neither of you glanced away from each other, his intense gaze making you squeeze your thighs together under your black dress.

“How ‘bout an ol’ fashion deal between adults?” he suggested, raising his brow.

“You can’t offer me any tempting way to settle this, cowboy,” you frowned. Despite your words, you had to admit your curiosity for what he had up his sleeve.

“Sure ‘bout that? ‘Cause I can think of a few things that have been on my mind since I saw you in that dress that might convince you,” he stated, a smirk pulling at his lips as something twinkled in his eye. “And I think they’ve been on your mind, too.”

You might’ve slapped any other man for attempting a line like that on you, and yet with him standing in front of you looking like every fantasy you had ever had, you couldn’t ignore the heat that radiated through your body, wrapped around your spine before settling deep in your core. Your arms dropped down at your sides as he was mere inches from you, staring down at you.

“Like what?” you asked, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

He slowly lifted his hand, lightly cupping your cheek as his thumb stroked your chin. “We got about…” he briefly glanced at the clock on the wall before looking back at you, “six minutes before we gotta be back in that courtroom. If I can make you cum on my tongue before then, you drop the charges. Judge doesn’t even need to know you made this a bigger thing than it was. Deal?”

“Seems like you get the better end of this deal. What’s in it for me?” you countered, trying to stand your ground but the tremble in your voice gave you away.

“You’ll see when you let me between those gorgeous thighs of yours, darlin’,” he breathed, his voice deep and husky.

You weren’t sure what made you believe him considering you weren’t used to compliments like that. It was hard for you to accept them in relationships let alone from people you had just met, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that gave you a reassurance you weren’t insane. Maybe it was just delusion, maybe it was the heat that burned low in your stomach, but either way you found yourself holding his gaze as you shrugged your trench coat off your shoulders. You dropped it on the chair with your bag, allowing him to take your hand in his large, calloused one and lead you away from the table.

Joel held your waist firmly in his strong grip as he walked you back towards the wall. Your breath hitched just as you pressed up against it, your eyes locked on his as he continued to take in every feature of your face. You felt his hands dig harder into your soft flesh just as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a rough, fervent kiss. You gasped as your arms draped over his shoulders, the sound opening your mouth slightly for his tongue to slip in, mingling with yours and eliciting a deep groan from you. That noise alone was enough to make your thighs squeeze together, feeling the familiar tingle up your spine as you clenched around nothing. He pushed himself closer to you, one of his hands sliding up the curve of your body and cupping your cheek, his lips still fused tightly to yours in an overwhelming embrace. Despite the unfortunate circumstance of how you met, it had still only been a few weeks since the incident, which still made him a stranger. This man shouldn’t be kissing you and caressing you in a way only familiar to lovers that found their rhythm over time, couples that spend years learning everything about each other. Yet there he was, his thick calloused hand sliding over your ample breast and squeezing, causing a surprised moan to escape your lips as you tugged at the collar of his olive green shirt.

His hand continued to drift down your body, finding its way between your legs over the fabric of your dress. He cupped your mound, causing you to pull away with a whimper, staring deep into his eyes. You saw the dark glaze in his brown orbs and you knew that you probably held a similar look, the tension between you both reaching a point of return. Suddenly, the urgency of what he promised you, the deal he was trying to cut, had him pulling away and taking your hands in his, raising your arms up and pressing them against the wall, clasped above your head.

“Keep ‘em there, y’understand?” he muttered against your lips.

You frowned briefly but nodded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

He dragged his hands over the fullness of your curves as he sank to his knees, gazing up at you as they rested over the hem of your dress, thumbs brushing over the soft skin at the edge of it. A soft hum left you as he pushed the material up, a smirk pulling at his lips as he revealed the delectable thickness of your thighs. You pressed your lips together as his rough palms slid up your smooth flesh and gripped your full hips once again, leaning closer to your covered sex, concealed from him in light pink lace.

“So fucking beautiful,” he husked, lightly nuzzling his nose over you. “Can’t wait to taste you, darlin’...”

You didn’t know where the boldness to speak came from, especially in such a brash way, but in that moment all you needed was for him to deliver on his own proposed solution to this mess you had found yourselves in.

“Then hurry the fuck up, Miller, unless you want my lawyer walking in on us.”

He chuckled as he looked up at you, his fingers hooked into the lace of your panties. “Someone’s eager.”

“Please,” you scoffed, meeting his gaze. “I just want this over with so I never have to see you again.”

“Really? ‘Cause…” he started, harshly tugging at your underwear and pulling it down your legs, taking them off from each foot as he took in the sight of a light sheen of your arousal over your pussy. “I think she’s protestin’ to that, sweetheart.”

He tucked your panties into his back pocket before he nudged your knee and parted your legs without another word, making your muscles seize up at how exposed you were to him. A soft whine left you as he shifted closer, grabbing your hips in his firm grip as he sat down completely and crossed his legs, making himself comfortable as he nestled between your spread legs. Your brows pinched together as you couldn’t figure out why he had done that, but you got your answer very quickly as a long swipe of his tongue over your folds had you gasping loudly. Hearing your reaction had him repeating the move before dipping the muscle between your folds and running tight circles over the bundle of nerves, a small groan from him vibrating against you and sending a shiver through your whole body.

“Joel,” you moaned, softly, glancing down at him.

“So perfect,” he muttered against the inside of your thigh, kissing your skin softly. “All dripping and swollen just for me, aren’t ya?”

You watched on as he moved back to the apex of your thighs, your hips in his hard grasp as he slid his tongue along the seam of your sex, alternating with paying attention to the swollen nub, radiating shockwaves through your whole being. You bit down on your lip, trying to keep quiet and not alert anyone outside the room of what was happening, knowing you didn’t have much time before your lawyer would come back and tell you your ten minute recess was over. As much as you had tried to deny it before, you didn’t want it to be over now, with Joel slowly winning you over with every stroke of his talented muscle.

“J-Joel,” you whimpered, licking your lips as you continued to look down at the top of his head, his luscious graying curls looking incredibly pullable. “Fuck, f-feels so good.”

You heard and felt him chuckle against you as he pulled back slightly, enough to meet your lustful gaze with his own. “Knew you were lyin’ before, darlin’. Taste so fucking good, gonna make a mess of you.”

Before you could conjure up any kind of response, his plump lips sealed around your clit and a sharp moan, one far too loud for someone not to hear, escaped you as one of your hands flailed against the wall and fell into his hair. You grasped the strands between your fingers, holding him in place but as another cry left you, he pulled back from you entirely, his lips and part of his stubble glistening with your arousal. You whined in protest but gulped in surprise as he suddenly stood up and stared deep into your eyes, his brown ones ablaze with desire. He took your hand and roughly placed it back up against the wall, above your head to once again meet the other.

“Do as I say, darlin’, and just so this isn’t over before we’ve even started,” he ordered, reaching into his back pocket and taking out your panties. He rolled them up and brought them to your mouth, stuffing them between your parted lips as your eyes widened. “Now no one’s gonna hear those screams of yours.”

He wasted no time as he dropped down to his original position on the floor, situating himself once more as he dragged your dress up and dipped his head between your thighs. You squirmed and whimpered as you felt his lips around your clit again, his stubble scratching at the flesh of your inner thigh, the sensation of it all at the same time making you moan wantonly, the sound muffled by the lace in your mouth. He continued his ministrations, alternating between licking over your folds and circling your bundle of nerves, burying himself deeper into you and taking you apart like a man starved. You breathed heavily as your squeezed eyes shut, feeling the familiar tug in your core, your thighs quivering as you tried to remain steady while he devoured you but it was too overwhelming.

You couldn’t even remember the last time your ex had made you feel this good, let alone a man you just met through an unfortunate incident weeks ago. You never did this, never let strange men take hold of you in such a way that you never wanted them to let go. This wasn’t you; and yet, you never wanted it to stop. You wanted to grab onto him, tug at his hair and scream for him to give you that euphoric bliss you haven’t felt in a long time, but the gag between your lips wouldn’t allow that. Then, through some luck you hadn’t wished for but were grateful to receive, it turned out you didn’t have to say a thing.

He moved back a little, kissing over your mound as he looked up at you, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Cum for me, darlin’, wanna feel you soak my face and remember what you taste like…”

He grabbed onto your thighs and dove back in, as your hips undulated against his face. A rumbling groan escaped him as he continued to lick and suck, faster and harder with each muffled noise of pleasure from you. His hands slipped around to the curve of your ass, pulling you further into his mouth, making you scream behind the gag as you felt the coil tighten with each stroke of his skilled tongue over you. With a few more swipes, you wailed and fell apart, feeling your wetness coat his lips. You dipped forward slightly, your hands dropping to his shoulders to support yourself as you came down from the highest peak you had ever experienced. He lapped at everything you had to give him, groaning into your center as held you close, savoring the taste of you.

Slowly, he shifted back and let your dress fall back into place as you leaned back against the wall, pulling your rolled up panties out from between your lips. You breathed deeply as you came down from your high, chest heaving as he stood up in front you, the back of his hand swiping over his mouth before he pulled you close. Your eyes locked on him with your hands still on his shoulders, his arms sliding around your waist as his gaze flicked down to your lips briefly, down further to your breasts, enticing him with the deep v-neckline. A soft moan fell from your lips as he moved down, kissing the top of your cleavage, gasping as his tongue licked a trail up your clavicle to your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point. Your head craned back as you offered him more of yourself, unable to recognize yourself through these actions, but you couldn’t help yourself when he was making you feel so good. How could a stranger make you feel so seen? So wanted, so sexy.

Just as he reached your lips he stopped, a mischievous glint in his eye as he looked down at you. “So? What’s the verdict?”

You smiled softly, leaning in close and brushing your lips against his. “You got yourself a deal, cowboy.”

“That easy, huh?” he smirked. “Maybe I should’ve struck this deal on the side of the road all those weeks ago.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been so easy then,” you countered, laughing lightly.

You shook your head as you remembered how enraged you had been at him, dragging him all the way to a court date just because he slightly dented your car. He had been so apologetic and exchanged details as was the norm, but you just couldn’t get past your anger, projecting it all onto him. He hadn’t deserved you blowing the situation out of proportion, and maybe you owed him an explanation but you didn’t think you could cope with it right then. You still had a lot to deal with.

So you just apologized for your overreaction.

“Joel, I’m sorry for how I handled this,” you said, sighing heavily. “It’s just… I was upset about something else that day and I took it on you, the next thing to piss me off and I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, slowly, a small smile pulling at his lips. Lips that had just done sinful things to you. “I appreciate that, darlin’.”

“I’ll talk to the judge,” you added.

A look of understanding passed between you as neither of you moved out of the very intimate embrace. The longer you stood there, as the seconds dragged on, his eyes darkened once again just as yours did. You weren’t sure what was happening, but you couldn’t deny that what had occurred between you was the most electric, the most erotic, the most alive you had ever felt. You had to wonder if he was feeling it, too.

And he was. Joel wanted nothing more than to turn you around and throw you down on the conference table, ignore the fact that they were due back in the courtroom any minute and absolute ravish every inch of you. Even on the day of the incident, he couldn’t help but take a second to think about how beautiful you were as you screamed and cursed at him. Just as he was about to open his mouth and possibly ask you if you wanted to grab a beer with him, the hope died on his tongue as a loud knock came at the dark mahogany door. Your lawyer called out both of you by your last names, making Joel pull back from you, losing the warmth and the feeling of his bulge against your leg.

“Are you both ready?”

“Almost,” you answered, voice raised.

With one last look passing between you, a look that you delusionally thought to be longing, you fixed your dress and fluffed your hair to make it look decent again. Just as you stepped up to the chair you left your trench coat and purse on, you looked down at your hand, your pale pink lace panties still in them. You bit your lip as an idea came to you, shaking your head at your ridiculousness, but you took the chance. You turned around, seeing Joel waiting for you by the door. Picking up your belongings, you sauntered over to him, your eyes never leaving his. You stopped in front of him, and with a smile that was a mix of mischief and innocence, you reached forward and slipped the lace into his jeans pocket. He stared down at your hand, eyebrows furrowed by an aroused glint in his eye as he looked back at you.

“Something to remember me by,” you whispered against his lips.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips and tasting the remnants of your arousal. Before your confidence could slip away and make you question your actions, you pulled the door open and stepped out of the room, following behind your lawyer as you told him you were dropping the charges. You added an extra swing in your hips as you walked away, Joel’s gaze undoubtedly on you as you heard his heavy footsteps behind.

Later, when all was said and done, you both went your separate ways without another word.

Just the memories of what happened in that empty room would occupy your every thought from that day forward, and the hope that maybe your paths would cross again someday.

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