#round white top side table

[spacecampband]

New York Master Bath Bathroom Huge transitional master marble floor and gray floor bathroom photo with recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, white walls, an undermount sink and white countertops

[discoboogie]

Deck - Contemporary Deck

A large, modern side yard deck with an addition to the roof

[hauntedfawnn]

۶♡ৎ White Rabbit ۶♡ৎ (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

✰ Rafe goes to Barry for help with his “pogue problem” but he gets more help than he bargained for when he meets Barry’s cousin. He can’t stay away from you, despite Barry’s protests, especially when you’re just as unhinged as he is. ✰ (This is a revamped repost from my old blog of my first ever Rafe fic)

♱ Gun violence (Reader shoots a guy), cocaine use(Reader & Rafe), unprotected sex, face fucking, choking, hair pulling, instant infatuation, spit kink, unhinged!reader, alt!reader, daddy kink, spanking, biting 18+MDNI ♱

Rafe slams his truck door shut as he walks up to Barry’s porch, scoffing when he sees him sitting there with his feet propped up while he reads a book.

“Hey, you got my shit?”

“Shit, you’re early.” Barry closes his book and sets it down on the table in front of him, a condescending smirk spreading across his lips.

“Do you have my shit or not, man?” Rafe groans as he plops his large body down onto the rundown cushion of one of the porch chairs.

“Yeah, I got yo shit.” Barry chuckles, pulling the baggy from his pocket and tossing it on the table. “You got my money?”

“Yeah.” Rafe pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slaps it into his hand before grabbing the baggy so he can make himself line. He snorts it, letting out a deep breath after. “I need a piece too.”

“Hooohoooo!! You need a piece? Country Club Killer now, huh?” Barry laughs, his hand coming down to slap his knee.

“Don’t!!” Rafe slams his hand on the table. “Mess with me right now.”

“Aight, what the hell you need a piece for?”

“John B is fucking back.”

“John B is fucking dead bruh.” Barry chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Nah man, I saw him for myself in the Bahamas, and just now Top saw him in town with my sister scoring beer.”

“FUCK!!!!” Barry kicks the table, sending it flying a few feet away. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin me? I’m done playing with these kids bruh.”

Barry kicks himself up from his seat, walking over to a locker on the side of the porch. He enters the combination before he pulls out a gun and starts to load it.

“You wanna be done with those little shits once and for all? You’re gonna need a lot more than just a piece. You gotta start going at this shit like a soldier.” He spins the barrel, clicking it into place before handing the gun to Rafe.

“You do this, you know I’ll take care of you, alright? You won’t be doing this shit for nothing man I’ll -“

“YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH?” A male voice came booming from behind the house.

“IF YOU AREN’T NOW, YOU FUCKING WILL BE!” Another voice followed, but this one was unmistakably female.

“Dude, what the fuck was that? Is that chick okay? Should you like - I don’t know - deal with that or some shit?” Rafe’s blue eyes scan the other man’s face for signs of distress but it was almost like if he hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Nah bro, that’s my cousin. She’s got it, stop trippin. We doin’ this or not?”

There’s a loud crash and then he hears the girl's voice again.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!”

“Dude I’m gonna go check it out, that doesn’t sound good.” Rafe isn’t sure why he really gives a shit if this random chick who he hasn’t even seen is alright or not, maybe he’s just high and paranoid. Either way his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts walking towards the back of Barry’s place.

“She doesn’t need your help pretty boy, trust me.” Barry snorts and shakes his head as he begrudgingly follows him.

When Rafe rounds the corner the sight he sees is far from what he was expecting. The man who he heard yelling was shorter than him but more built, probably middle aged, he wore a white tank top and black board shorts and the look in his eyes told him that he was definitely one of Barry’s customers or less reliable dealers. The girl on the other hand? You were half his size, your hair in two braids with ribbons tied at the ends of them, you were wearing a tiny little black lace top and white lacy shorts that barely covered her ass. You had combat boots on your feet that had little white ruffle socks sticking out of the top of them, but what was most shocking? You were holding a Glock in one of your small hands, and the collar of the man’s tank top was gathered in the other. You were standing on your tiptoes whilst also pulling the man down so he was face level with you, the Glock held to his head.

“I said, get on your fucking knees mother fucker, you got a hearing problem or some shit?” You growl at the man and it sends shivers down Rafe’s spine. You were beautiful. He watches as you shove the Glock into the man’s temple and ram your boot clad heel into his thigh causing him to fall to his knees with a grunt.

“Much better.” You smile as you tap his cheek with the gun before bringing it back to the side of his head. “Now, where the fuck is my fucking money?”

“I told you! I told you I don’t fucking have it right now I just need a little time!” The man’s voice is shaky now, his eyes traveling between you and the gun held to his head.

“Time? This isn’t a fucking loan service! Get me my money by tomorrow, or you’re fucked!” Your eyes are filled with fire and you let out a dry laugh.

“What’re you gonna do? Send Barry after me? Where is he at? He knows I always pay, just let me talk to hi-“ He’s cut off abruptly when you hit him across the cheek with the gun.

“SHUT UP!! You’re not fucking talking to Barry, you’re talking to me. If you don’t get my money you aren’t going to have to deal with him, you’re going to have to deal with me. Which I promise you don’t fucking want.” Rafe watches as you lean down into the guy's face, your eyes boring into his, a sinister smile paints your lips, and he isn’t even ashamed of the fact that he felt his cock stir in his pants at your display of dominance over this man twice your size. “Got it??”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get that amount by tomorrow I-“ The man grunts when you hit him in the face with the gun again, his face whipping to the side.

“I said, got it?” You hold the gun between his eyes, your smile never faltering.

“Yeah - yeah! I got it! I got it! Can I go now!?” The man holds his hands by his head in surrender, seemingly not wanting to argue with you further.

“I fucking mean it asshole, tomorrow, by sunset.” You glare at him momentarily before your smile returns, tapping his cheek with the gun again before turning to walk off.

“You aren’t gonna do shit bitch, you’re nothing without that little gun.”

Rafe’s blue eyes widen as he watches the man’s hand reach out and grab for your Glock. He subconsciously takes a step forward in your defense but soon realizes maybe you really don’t need help. Your body whips around, pulling the gun from the guy's reach and shooting him in the foot all in one motion. He screams out in pain, his hands grabbing onto his foot as he falls to the ground.

“Bring me my fucking money. Tomorrow. Or you’re going to be in a lot more pain than that.” You crouch down and spit in the guy's face before walking over him and into the house, letting the door slam shut behind you. Rafe stands there with his dick half hard and his jaw hanging open as he stares at the closed door you just disappeared behind.

“I told you she fuckin’ had it, and don’t even fuckin’ think about it, country club.” Barry’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Wha-? Think about what?”

“I see how you’re fuckin’ lookin at her dude, that’s like my sister in there. You stay your messy ass away from her, aight?”

“We should go check on her…” Rafe ignores Barry’s warning, walking towards the house despite his protests.

You let out an agitated groan as you flop down on the couch and toss your Glock on the cushion next to you. You grab a little clear baggy off the coffee table and sprinkle some of the powder onto the small mirror in front of you, using the random gift card you found in your wallet to push a portion of it into a straight line. You grab the rolled dollar bill sitting on the mirror and bring it up to your nose so fucking ready for this line after dealing with that shit head, but right when you bend over the front door slams open, causing you to jump back. Your foot hits the table and the movement makes a mess of your line. You let out a curse under your breath, your eyes rising to glare at your intruder.

You expect Barry, or maybe that fucking idiot really did want to lose a finger today. But instead of the brown eyes of your cousin, or the bloodshot hazel ones of your unreliable dealer, your eyes lock with piercing blue ones. You have to physically stop yourself from gasping at the sight of the man in front of you. He’s tall, really tall, and built, his chest and arms perfectly filling out the blue button up shirt he wore. His chestnut hair looked silky to the touch, his jaw looked perfect for biting, and his face was just all around beautiful. Especially those eyes, the look in them stern. There was something else there you couldn’t quite decipher, it almost seemed possessive.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Uh - yeah? Aside from the fact that you just scared the shit out of me and made me knock my line all over the table, I’m just peachy.” You scoff, throwing him a playful smirk and roll of your eyes.

“Country Club here seems to think you’re some kinda damsel in distress or some shit.” Barry walks through the door behind him, smacking his bicep with the back of his hand and laughing loudly.

“Damsel in distress, huh? I don’t think I’d mind if a pretty boy like you came to my rescue.” You bite your bottom lip, your eyes roaming his figure.

“Hell fuckin’ nah! Quit that shit out right now, Bunny. I mean it. I told him the same shit, I don’t want this.” He gestures between you and Rafe. “To be a thing. You two are a recipe for fuckin’ disaster. This is Rafe Cameron, the dude I was tellin’ you about.”

“What the fuck did you tell her about me man?” Rafe’s voice comes out almost panicked and you find yourself wanting to comfort him immediately. You jump up from your seat and walk around the table so you can stand in front of him. He’s even taller up close, you have to tilt your head all the way to meet his eyes and you stop yourself from clenching your thighs at the height difference.

“So this is the guy that killed the sheriff, huh? Pretty boy is a cop killer? I find that kind of sexy…” You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, your teeth subconsciously finding your bottom lip again as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Barry, what the hell man? You told her that shit?” He addresses the other man but his eyes don’t leave yours, the look in them changed from concern to defense, and maybe a little lust? He was honestly looking at you like he wanted to choke you to death and this time you really couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs where you stood.

“Hey, I’m not going to rat you out or some shit. Barry gave me the low down on everyone on the island when I moved, if I’m going to work for him I need to know the ins and outs, ya know? He trusts me, if you trust him, you can trust me. I’m cool.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring, you aren’t sure why but you want him to trust you.

“Alright.” His eyes search your face, almost as if he’s trying to read your thoughts, to see if you really mean it.

“Alright, we good?” You extend your hand towards him and he takes it in his much larger one, shaking it.

“We’re good.” You go to pull your hand away but he tightens his grasp, keeping it held in his. “You didn’t tell me your name though, or should I just call you, what did Barry call you? Bunny?”

“Bunny is preferred, but you can call me my real name too, if you’d like.” You let your thumb run across the back of his hand as you tell him your name, your eyes never leaving his.

“AIGHT! That’s enough of alla that.” Barry pushes past you, plopping down on the couch he grabs the bong on the coffee table and starts to load it.

“Bare, stop acting like you’re in charge of who I flirt with. I'm a grown ass woman, you're being dramatic.” You scoff, sending him a death glare.

“Seriously man, you’re acting like you’re her dad or some shit.” He chuckles when your cousin flips him off. “I’m sorry about your line by the way, I really just came to check in on you after I saw you arguing with that asshole out there. Let me make it up to you.”

Rafe brings his hand up to your shoulder, running his thumb over the blade a few times before letting it graze down your arm as he walks towards the couch. You watch as he sits down next to Barry and picks up your gift card, expertly lining the fine power back into a nice row before patting the cushion next to him. A smile breaks across your lips as you take the empty seat. He doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce when your ass hits the couch and the smell of your sweet perfume makes his cock twitch.

“For you, pretty girl.” He holds the folded dollar bill up to you with a smirk and you happily take it from him.

“Thanks, cutie.” You wink at him. When you lean down Rafe notices your hair is in your way so like it’s the most casual thing in the world he brings his large hand up to your face and sweeps the straw pieces behind your ear. He pushes the rest of it behind your shoulder and his hand stays there while you inhale through your nostril. His touch doesn’t leave you, even when you lean back against the couch, he simply adjusts it so it’s around your shoulder.

“You gonna flirt with my cousin all goddamn night or are we gonna deal with your little pogue problem?”

“Pogue problem? What’s going on?” You raise your eyebrows, your eyes traveling between Barry and Rafe.

“You remember that little fucker John B I was telling you about? His ass is alive and back on the island.” Barry shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh.

“That’s the kid the cops think killed the sheriff, right? Damn. That’s not good for you, Rafe.” You make eye contact and bite your lip nervously. “Those kids know you actually killed her, don’t they?”

“Yeah, and my fucking sister is with them. Her and John B were there, they saw the whole goddamn thing.” Rafe groans, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I can’t have them opening their fucking mouths. I just can’t.”

“Then you know what you have to do, right? Shut them the fuck up, once and for all.” Your eyes darken and it reminded him of the way they looked outside, when you were holding a gun to your dealer's head.

“Yeah, no shit dude, that’s why I said we were going to deal with it.” Barry scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is up with you attitude Bare, but fucking ditch it.” You glare at him as you grab the couch pillow next to you and throw it at his face.

“Oh? You wanna fuckin’ go bruh?” Your cousin grins at you, gripping the pillow in his hand and swinging it over Rafe’s body, directly into your face with a cackle.

“Oh you mother fucker!” You let out a laugh, your hands go for the pillow but it’s ripped from your grasp.

“CUT IT THE FUCK OUT!!” Rafe takes the pillow in his large ringed hand and throws it across the room causing you to jump, your smile falling. “Barry, are you gonna help me or not man?”

“Hey.” Your eyes are soft again, you put your hand on his chest and rub soft circles onto his skin through his shirt with the pad of your thumb. “He’s going to help you, and I will too. We were just fucking around, everything’s alright. You’re probably under a lot of stress, huh? Poor thing.”

Rafe isn’t exactly sure how to react. No one has ever taken his anger and looked at it as more than just that, anger, yet here you are knowing him for all of ten minutes and the minute he loses his temper you see it for what it is, stress. Plus you’re kind of coddling him, and he’s never had anyone coddle him before. He almost feels speechless.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick about it like she is but I’m gonna help you man, fuckin’ relax. We doin’ this shit tonight?” Barry cracks his knuckles and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, earning an immediate glare from you. He scoffs, taking his feet off the table with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know why you care so much if my feet are on the table dude, it’s my fuckin’ table anyways.”

“The drugs I put inside my nose are on this table, I don’t want your dirty ass shoes on it. It's common sense really.” He rolls his eyes and you flip him off, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yeah man, tonight. I want to give this shit over with. I bet you anything they’re at John B’s. They’re stupid enough to go there.” Rafe’s hand is tapping on his already shaking leg and you can tell he’s anxious, you reach out and grab it, stopping his motions. He doesn’t look at you, but he intertwines your fingers, his hand squeezing yours. You squeeze his back and bring your other hand to his bicep so you can rub soothing circles on it. He lets out a sigh. “Once it’s dark, then they won’t see us coming.”

“Aight, let’s do this shit. Bunny, you in?” Barry raises a brow at you, his eyes lingering on the way you’re touching Rafe. “Also, I thought I said I didn’t want this to be a thing.”

“It could be dangerous, I don’t know if you should come, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” Rafe answers before you can, his hand squeezing yours again in what you assume is supposed to be reassurance but it actually just pisses you off.

“Okay.” Your voice is stern, your hands leave him as you stand from the couch and he immediately misses your touch. “I wanna get something straight, right fucking now. I am not some weak little girl who sits at home while all the fun shit goes down. If that’s the kinda girl you’re into, you are not going to find that with me. I’m a ride or die type of bitch. If my man is in trouble, I’m helping him. So if you want this to be a ‘thing’ as Barry is calling it, then I suggest you accept that sooner rather than later.”

“And you, have no fucking say in who I do and don’t engage with sexually or romatically. Me and Rafe clearly have chemistry and I could tell that the moment I locked eyes with him, so you’re just going to have to get the fuck over it. Are we clear? Both of you?” You look between them, your hands on your hips and that fire Rafe is already becoming addicted to in your eyes.

“Whatever, your lil ass has always been fuckin’ impossible to control. If this blows up in your face I’m gonna say I told you so, cuz.” Barry snorts.

“Yeah baby, I got it.” Rafe cuts in, sending a shockwave through your body with the pet name. “I saw you out there with that guy, you might be tougher than Barry.”

This makes you smile, your eyes turning soft as you approach him on the couch. This time you don’t take the seat next to him, you sit across his lap, facing your cousin with a triumphant smile. Rafe's arm circles around your waist and you nestle in closer to him.

“Alright then. Glad we are all on the same page now. So what’s the plan?”

“FUCK!!!!” Rafe was pissed, he threw himself into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming his hands down on the wheel. “FUCKING BULLSHIT!! THEY HAD TO OF JUST BEEN FUCKING BEEN THERE! POUGE FOR LIFE SARAH?! HUH?! I SEE HOW IT FUCKING IS!!”

“Rafe…” You approach the open driver's door, gently resting your hand on top of one of his that was white knuckling the steering wheel. Completely unafraid, despite the fact that he’s still holding the gun Barry gave him in his other hand. “Let’s just calm down for a second, okay? We’re gonna work it out, they aren’t going to fuck with you.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? I’M FUCKED! YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FUCKING DAD! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FAMILY, IF IT COMES BETWEEN ME AND MY GODDAMN SISTER HE’S GONNA FUCKING CHOOSE HER!!!” His hands leave the wheel, weaving through his hair and tugging, the gun pressed up against the side of his face.

“Hey.” You put your hands over his, turning his face towards yours. “I might not know about all that shit, maybe not yet at least, but I know that when I say I’m going to do something I get it done. You aren’t alone in this, I’m going to help you, okay?”

Your voice is sweet, the look in your eyes is gentle and reassuring, and your hands? They’re so soft, and cool against his face, the feeling of them soothes him in a way he’s never felt before. He lets out a sigh, relaxing under your touch.

“We are going to deal with this, but for right now we need to get the fuck out of here. Those gunshots could’ve caught someone’s attention.” You run your thumbs over the top of his hands before grabbing onto the gun, pulling it from his grasp with a smile. You tuck it into your boot and lean up onto your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, alright.” He nods, his hands smoothing through his hair.

You walk around the front of the truck so you can hop into the passenger seat, Barry already sat in the back anxiously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, let’s take Barry back to the house and then I think you and I should go somewhere together.” You buckle your seatbelt and turn to face him.

“Yeah? Where?” He shoves the keys in the ignition and puts the truck in drive, pulling away from the Châtea and into the night.

“Just trust me, I know a spot.” You kick your feet up on the dash, reaching into your purse for a cigarette and your lighter.

“Every instinct in my body is telling me to tell you to bring your ass home with me, but you’re not gonna listen to me for shit so I’m not gonna waste my breath. Gimme one of those fuckin’ cigarettes though.” Barry leans forward, snatching the entire pack and your lighter from your hands.

“Yeah, you’re better off not arguing with me Bare. Fucking give those back though, dick.” He rolls his eyes, lighting the cigarette he took from your pack before throwing it back to you.

“Yeah whatever, just fuckin’ take me home man.”

“Okay, take a left here and on your right you’re gonna see a little road that goes through these trees.” You point out the window, directing Rafe as he drives.

“Where the hell are you taking me, huh? You taking me out somewhere quiet to sacrifice me?” He chuckles, looking over at you with a smirk.

“Mmm, I bet you’d like that, huh? Preppy rich boys like you always like the fucked up alternative girls from the sticks.” You return his smirk with one of your own.

“Ha! I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t mind if you spilled a little bit of my blood, as long as I could spill yours too…” he reaches the end of the road, driving into a clearing in the trees, a patch of lone beach in front of you.

“Yeah? That’s hot. Stop here.” He obliges, putting the truck into park and taking off his seatbelt. You do the same, turning towards him with your legs tucked underneath you.

“What’re we really doing out here, vampire girl?” His eyes meet yours momentarily before the trail down your body, taking extra time to admire your tits in your top.

“Mmm, well, I know you’re really stressed and I just thought… maybe you could take some of your frustrations out on me?” You lock eyes with him, your tongue running over your bottom lip before you take it between your teeth.

“Yeah? You brought me out here so I would fuck the shit out of you?” He licks his lips, his large hand reaches out to rest on your thigh, squeezing the meat of it between his fingers.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to take me home after that shit you said about your family and Barry would probably either kill us both or have a stroke if you fucked me how I want you to fuck me at my place.” You said it oh so matter of fact, that smirk ever present on your lips.

“And how do you want me to fuck you? Huh, bunny?” His hand runs along the length of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He grabs onto it, the tips of his thumb and his pinky just dipping under the fabric.

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me, take your frustrations out on me, Rafe. Use me.” Your voice comes out desperate and it makes him groan.

“I’ve barely even touched you yet and you’re already practically begging for me… you wanna be my little slut, that it?” His thumb runs down the seam of your shorts, stopping at your wet core. “You’re fucking dripping. I can feel it through your panties.”

“It’s all for you, want you, want to be your little slut so bad.”

“Fuck.” The hand not on your thigh reaches for your throat, squeezing it and cutting off your air supply in the most delicious way. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

He uses his grip on your throat to pull your face to his, smashing his lips against your own in a bruising kiss. You moan against his mouth and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers through his hair at the same time that his hand on your thigh pushes your shorts and panties to the side, burying two fingers in your wet cunt with little resistance. He begins pumping them in and out of you while his grip on your throat never falters. He pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes almost black with lust as they bore into your own. His thumb finds your clit and your back arches, a loud moan ripping through you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” You oblige, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. He leans over you and lets a string of spit drop onto your waiting tongue. You moan as you happily swallow it. “Good girl. Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers hook just right inside you, rubbing against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit perfectly. You feel your high approaching fast, you push your tank top down, letting your braless tits fall free. You grab them in your hands, tweaking your nipples, it causes your eyes to roll back and you feel that coil in your stomach about to snap. Rafe’s hand leaves your throat and grips onto your jaw in one swift motion.

“Fucking look at me when I make you cum.” He squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, causing your lips to pout. “I own this pussy now, that means I own your orgasms too, look at me while I take what’s mine.”

You open your eyes, and the minute they meet his, your high crashes over you like a tidal wave. A broken moan leaves your throat and your walls clench around his large fingers as they continue to fuck you through your high. He pulls them from your pussy, holding them up to his face to examine them. They’re creamy white and glistening in the moonlight. You grab his wrist and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. He growls in response, shoving them further down your throat. You gag and he licks his lips, the sound going straight to his cock.

“Fuck, wanna feel you gagging around my dick. Get out of the truck and get on your knees, now.” He pulls his fingers from between your lips and takes them into his own mouth. The taste of your spit mixed with the remainder of your arousal sending his eyes to the back of his head. You follow his direction, hastily throwing the truck door open and getting out. You start to walk around the back and he stops you halfway, grabbing you by the hair so he can pull your head back, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck this pretty little mouth while you kneel in the sand like the dirty slut you are. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You nod as best as you can with the grip he has on your head, that sickeningly sweet smirk from when he first saw you earlier that day spread across your lips.

“Yeah, daddy, I want you to use my mouth like a fucking cock sleeve.” His eyes widen and a groan rips through him at the sound of that name leaving your lips.

“Fuck. Take this off.” He grabs the hem of your tank top and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head. He takes your tits in his hands and squeezes them, the coolness of them sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, your nipples hardening under his touch. “Fucking perfect tits. Knees. Now.”

You drop to your knees and eagerly reach for the button on his shorts undoing it and his zipper in one swift motion. His cock is straining against his black boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. You pull his shorts and boxers down and it springs free, thick and hard and leaking just for you. You knew he would be big, but goddamn his cock is huge.

“Mmm daddy, you’re so big, fuck.” You spit on your hand and bring it to his shaft, lightly stroking him. That bead of precum on his head is practically begging you to taste it so you lean forward and lick his slit with the tip of your tongue. You circle his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, suck daddy’s cock.” His hands grab onto your braids like makeshift handlebars and he uses his grip to push himself all the way down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He holds your head there for a few seconds before pulling you off with a pop. Your mouth subconsciously chases his taste. “Oh you’re such an eager little whore huh? You like that? You like gagging on my dick?”

You nod and his grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so you’re looking up into his eyes.

“Fuckin’ answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes - yes daddy, I fucking love it.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks down at you, shoving his cock back into your mouth and immediately thrusting into your throat. You gag and your eyes water, your mascara already starting to run down your cheeks. “God. Fucking look at you, I can see my cock in your throat baby.”

So much drool is dripping out of the sides of your mouth that it’s started to run down your chest and onto your tits. You swipe your fingers through it, wetting them before bringing them to his balls, caressing them in your lubed up hand.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, shiiiiit, play with my fucking balls, that’s so fucking good.” You look up at him and his head is thrown back, his neck on display, you can see all the veins in his biceps and the moans leaving him are feral. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight. Your hand travels between your legs and into your little spandex shorts, expertly finding your already slick clit and rubbing quick circles over it. Your moans increase in volume and it causes him to glance down at you, taking notice of your hand in your shorts.

“Hey, what the fuck did I say huh?” He pulls you off of him, bending at the waist so his face is hovering over yours. “I said that’s my fuckin’ pussy, that means I’m the only one who gets to make you cum. Get up.”

He lets go of your hair, grabbing you underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. He turns towards the truck and rips the bed open, grabbing onto your hips and roughly turning you. He pushes down on your back, and you take the hint, bending at the waist so your top half is against the truck bed. The plastic floor is cool and rough against your nipples and your lower half hangs off the truck, your feet not touching the ground. A harsh smack lands on your ass, causing you to help and jolt forward.

“You’re not so tough now, huh, vampire girl? Your pathetic dealers know you’re just a little slut who likes to get thrown around? Or is that just for me?” He grabs onto your shorts and panties, ripping them down to your ankles where they pool at the top of your boots. “Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ wet.”

He drops to his knees, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your asshole and back again. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth and his hand comes down on your ass again. You feel like you’re going to cum embarrassingly soon. His fingers run through your slick lips before they’re sliding inside you, immediately hooking into your sweet spot. You cum suddenly and hard, your whole body shaking underneath him.

“Please fuck me now daddy, please, I want your cock so bad” you voice is whiney and you shake your ass from side to side, arching your back so it’s further on display for him.

“Quit begging, I’m gonna give you what you want, don’t be a greedy brat.” He stands, two harsh smacks landing on your ass. He takes his cock in his hand and runs the head through your slit, coating it in your wetness. He pushes into you in one swift motion, and immediately starts fucking you at a brutal pace.

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so big, feels so full.” Your voice is a breathy moan, his cock feels like it’s in your lungs and the door to the truck bed is digging into your hips but god it feels so good. His hands are grabbing your hips so roughly that you think his nails might be drawing blood, and god you hope they are. You want him to mark you as his, anywhere and everywhere.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, gripping my cock so good. This pussy was fucking made for me. Say it.” He leans over you, practically crushing you, but his cock hits even deeper than before and his mouth latches onto your neck and it’s like he read your mind because he starts to roughly suck and bite into your skin. Definitely leaving marks behind. “Say it. Say this pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy was fucking made for you, daddy.” You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him the best you can with your limited movement, wanting to feel every ridge and vein of him as deep inside you as possible.

“Yeah it fucking was.” He leans back, his hand gripping onto your hair again so he can pull your back against his chest. The sting of the truck against your hips at an all time high. He releases your hair so he can grip onto your throat instead, his other hand coming down to rub your clit. The feelings of pain mixed with pleasure sending you closer and closer to another orgasm. “You gonna cum already? I can feel you tightening around my cock baby girl.”

“Yeah - yeah I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum for you daddy, you just feel sofuckinggood.” You’re a drooling whimpering mess and the coil is seconds away from snapping when he stops his movements and pulls out of you, taking your orgasm with him. “Hey what-“

Before you can protest he grips onto your hips, flipping you over onto your back. He grabs your throat and pulls you into a sitting position, grabbing onto your thigh with his other hand so he can pull you to the edge of the truck.

“I told you, I want you to look at me when you cum. You owe me for that last one.” He slams his cock into you, continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it. His thumb finds your clit again and his mouth latches onto your neck, biting down so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bruise in the shape of his teeth marks. You’d get it tattooed if he wanted. You already knew at that moment this man had ruined all other men for you. He had you.

“Fuck - fuck daddy, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum”

“Fuckin’ cum for me, I’ll fill this little pussy up, paint your walls with my cum. Milk my cock, slut.”

His words send you over the edge, cumming harder than you have all night. Your walls convulse around him and your nails rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. But that’s not what does him in, it’s the fact that you never break eye contact with him for a second. Obeying him like the good girl you are.

“Fuck! Good fuckin’ girl, best fucking pussy I’ve ever had. Never gonna leave you alone now. Never quitting this pussy.” He cums with a growl, shoving his cock deep inside you. He fucks you through his high, his thrusts never letting up, his face shoved into your neck. When he finally starts to come down he lets his softening cock slip out of you, his lips finding yours and kissing you with fever.

“Never quitting this pussy, huh, pretty boy? That’s a bold statement to make about a girl you just met.” You smirk at him, taking his face in his hands and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

“I don’t fuckin’ give a shit, I meant every word. You’re fuckin’ mine now.” He turns his head to the side, placing a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“Does that mean you’re mine too? I don’t do one sided bullshit.”

“Yeah baby, that means I’m yours too. Come on, get your clothes on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, grabbing your clothes off the sandy ground and shaking them out before handing them to you.

“You gonna take me home now? Barry is just gonna love all the hickies I know you left on my neck.” You smirk at him, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Nah, I’m bringing you home with me. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“What about your family?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck em, you’re my girl now, they’re going to have to get used to it. Get your ass in the truck, I wanna fuck you in my shower.”

You giggle, running around to jump in the truck. You didn’t even see his family that night. But they definitely heard Rafe making good on his promise to fuck you all night long and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel bad. Not that night, and not the next morning when he introduced you to his dad and step mom while they had disgusted looks on their faces. You just smiled, happily shaking their hands like you weren’t calling their son daddy until the sun came up.

Tagging mooties: @rafescorpsebride @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @eerielamb @that-sarcastic-writer @moonlightseranade @loserboysandlithium @sarahsangelicdoll @songbirdmunson @eddiesxangel ✨

Dividers by: @anitalenia & me

[empresskylo]

You hadn’t expected Simon to get you anything for Valentine’s Day. It just didn’t really seem like his kind of holiday.

So you were rather surprised when he showed up with a bouquet of roses, a little handwritten note tied to them. Cliche, roses, but he knew you liked flowers. And he wasn’t above buying you cliche things. Simon knew he could show his love for you year round, and he always did in his own ways, but he had no problem treating you on February 14th either.

He didn’t just run out to the story and buy whatever random shit they had on the shelves, or snag a insincere hallmark card. He had gone to three different florists before he found the right mix of roses. He handpicked red, pink, and white roses, all arranged with baby’s breath decorating the sides. He thought they were rather pretty and wanted to make sure he got you a set you would actually like. Then he took a piece of paper and wrote you a little note. He drew a little heart at the top where he wrote your name, as wonky as it was. And he found a piece of ribbon, tying the card to the stem of one of the roses. He walked all the way to your apartment, smiling at himself imagining your surprise when he presented the flowers.

When you opened the door to a wide-grinned Simon, you thanked him for the gift, and he said, “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh. Simon, that’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I know the restaurants are all going to be packed and I don’t want you to have to—”

“Wasn’t really askin’, love.”

You quirked a brow, your face heating. “I don’t have anything nice to wear,” you said gesturing to your PJs. “I can’t go to some fancy—”

“Who said anythin’ bout fancy?” He winked at you before interlacing your fingers. Simon knew you didn’t do crowds and didn’t like to be fussed over, so of course he wasn’t about to take you out to eat on the busiest night of the year. He raised his other hand and showed you the bag of takeout, ready to curl up on the couch and watch whatever cheesy movie you wanted. And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He kissed your forehead before guiding you both inside your apartment, placing the takeout on the coffee table and pulling you into his lap.

[alicesbookshelf]

Open Living Room Charleston Large cottage open concept and formal medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room photo with a wall-mounted tv, white walls, a standard fireplace and a plaster fireplace

[ucitavanje]

Home Bar - Contemporary Family Room Family room - large contemporary enclosed dark wood floor family room idea with a bar, white walls, a wall-mounted tv and no fireplace

[sponsormusings]

Family Room Open Family room: large, open-concept transitional porcelain tile family room with white walls, a tile fireplace, a standard fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[jjscrybaby]

prompt 40: ‘lean on me.’

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | hurt & comfort | (stubborn!reader, mention of sick, reader is john b’s sister but no mention of race etc, getting shot, blood, shitty ending cause i’m tired🙂‍↕️)

my first request! thankyou anon, i hope u enjoy this <333

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

For your entire life, you’d been stubborn. Back when you were a kid, you’d refuse to admit that you were sick even when you were puking your guts out into the toilet, there was one time you climbed a tree because you wanted to be like JJ and John B and you ended up slicing your arm on a hanging stick; you kept it from them until the next day when they noticed the scab.

Your brother and your friends were used to it by now, you smiling through your tears when you got cheated on, or stumbling home alone after drinking too much because you were embarrassed to call for help.

No one was worried about you when you began the treasure hunt for the gold your old man had been searching for, you were a strong girl who could take care of herself and them. You weren’t worried about yourself either, not until you heard the bang.

“Shit!” JJ yelled from somewhere in front of you, ducking down with his hands over his head. You knew this lead was bullshit, a trap of some sort.

“Over here!” Kiara called, finding an entrance to the old warehouse you were running near. She held it open and the group of you ran in, panting and groaning. She slammed the door closed as you rushed in and pushed a table against it for good measure.

John B let out a laugh of disbelief, followed by JJ, Pope and then Kie. “Shit, that was a close one.” He chuckled, sitting down to lean against the wall.

“Too close,” Kiara agreed, sitting down beside him to catch her breath.

You weren’t listening to a word they were saying. Your ears rang as you looked down, blood was seeping into your white tee, your body numb from the pain.

“You good?” John B asked, looking over at you. Your eyes flickered over to him, panic all over your face. He slowly stood up and walked towards you. “Hey—” he stopped, eyes landing on the blood that covered your left side. His eyes widened, his face paled and he was rushing at you like a mad man. “No, no, no!”

“What?” JJ worried, coming over from where he’d been leaning against a wall. He followed John B’s gaze and had the exact same reaction, complexion going green and hands starting to shake as he grabbed your waist.

“It’s fine—” you croaked out, inhaling sharply at the pain that followed.

“Shut up. You’re shot,” JJ argued sternly. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head and gently pulled your shirt up, apologising when you cried out in pain. He inspected it, you were losing a lot of blood. “We need to get to the fuckin’ hospital!”

“Can’t afford that,” you coughed out, making everyone shoot you a dirty look.

“Would you rather bleed out? Come on, we need to get back to the van,” Kiara responded, looking around to see if there’s another exit.

You tried to stumble after them, clenching your jaw. JJ wrapped his arm around your waist, you tried to push him off and his grip tightened. “Lean on me. Let me help you,” he murmured.

“I don’t want to die, JJ,” you sobbed as he held you up, following the rest of the group. John B was up ahead, storming down the hallway you’d found to find an unlocked door.

“You’re not going to,” JJ argued, his pace quickening. “I’d never let that happen. Don’t panic, I know it hurts. You just have to hang in there a little longer, can you do that f’me?”

You just nodded your head, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you finally leant on him properly; finally accepted the help that he’d been trying to give you for years. When you climbed that tree, he’d been at the top holding his hand out for you to take. When you were sick, he’d offer to hold your hair back and follow you around with food and water. When you got cheated on, he went round to your ex’s house and punched him right in his smug face. He was always there, you just never accepted the help.

You’d gotten lucky, the bullet had grazed you so the procedure was no where near as difficult as it could have been. When you woke up, head foggy and body numb, you felt a hand holding yours.

“Hey,” JJ murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “John B’s just gone home to grab you some shit.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” you replied croakily — he was instantly passing you a cup of water.

He gave you a look, shaking his head at you with amusement in his eyes. “You really ain’t worked it out yet?”

“Worked what out?” You asked, putting the cup back on the side table once your mouth started to feel less dry.

“That no matter how much your stubborn-ass may hate it, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” JJ stated, sounding stern yet soft all at once.

“Why?” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up at his words. Was he just being friendly? Did he mean it because you were his best friends sister?

“‘Cause you’re, like, the most important thing to me,” he shrugged, looking down at where your hands were clasped together. “And I hate that you just let yourself struggle alone.”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your’s and JJ’s relationship had always been funny banter, witty comments and buried love. You’d never heard him say something so honest, and if you’d been standing it would have sent you to your knees.

“You’re the most important thing to me, too,” you replied, your brain too foggy with the pain meds to think of anything else to say.

He flashed you a grin, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “From now on, you ain’t dealing with shit alone. Definitely not when you’ve just been shot.”

“Grazed,” you corrected.

“Big-whoop. Get ready for me to be your personal butler, your ass ain’t leaving your bed once we get home,” he teased, making you roll your eyes fondly. 

You didn’t necessarily hate the idea of him taking care of you, not that you’d ever admit that to him; although from the glint in his eyes you were pretty sure he already knew. You were pretty sure he felt the same way.

John B was in for a real surprise when he gets back to the hospital — because his best friend and sister are most definitely head over heels in love.

[astars-things]

Hi!!! Could I request a Lando x reader based on the Quadrant Hole in the Wall video? Where, because it’s cold, there’s already a bunch of cute moments between Lando and the reader but then she gets dunked and the moment after is even cuter, in which everyone goes crazy over the moment once the video is released. I hope that made sense. Thanks love 💗

here you go babes <3

When Lando came up to you with this quadrant video idea you were sceptical at first and thought it would make a great video, he knew you loved watching from the sidelines, watching the chaos and cheering everyone on from the safety of your little folding chair with snacks.

When he suggested you be in it that was another story "No no absolutely not"  you protested but one flash of his famous puppy eyes and you caved, and that’s how you ended up at the karting track, bundled up in one of Lando’s oversized hoodies, tucked tightly in his arms as cameras were being set up around you.

"Today we're playing whole in a wall but with a twist" Lando spoke to the camera his arms still wrapped securely around you like you might bolt at any second (which wasn’t completely off the table). While Aarva was explaining the rules and going over the three rounds Lando gave you a small kiss on the forehead, "Now the real question is who wants to go first?" Lando asked everyone pointing to each other but most pointed to Ethan 

"Three two one" Max called out and off Ethan went and he made it through no problem, once most of them had gone it was your turn, grabbing one of Landos old F2 helmets and putting it on your head you tilted your head up towards him. "Bub, can you do it up for me?" you asked softly, nerves starting to bubble in your stomach.  He gave you a small kiss on the top of the helmet like you normally do before he got into the car, The group around you let out a collective "Awwww," and you fought the urge to hide behind the visor. 

You sat in the kart, internally panicking and rethinking your life choices, you didn't have much experience with karting maybe ten minutes worth and most of that was spent accidentally bumping into walls. But here you were. Once you heard them scream "one" you were off, the foam wall was getting closer and you panicked serving into the wall at the last minute, Lando quickly rushed over to make sure you were okay 

"Babe! Are you okay?" Lando was at your side within seconds, concern etched across his face as he quickly undid your helmet and pulled it off gently. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “You alright?” You nodded, cheeks flushed from embarrassment more than anything. "Yeah, just… maybe not my calling in life."

"To the tank to the tank" You heard Max and Steve yell, you sat on the white ledge with fear written all over your face, "Ria I swear to-" You screamed but soon your body was submerged in the ice cold water 

Lando quickly ran over to help get you out and wrapped you up with a towel that he had under his hoodie to keep warm. He held you close, trying to rub some warmth back into your frozen arms as you shook like a leaf. "Why did I agree to this?" you muttered into his chest, teeth chattering.

"Because you love me," he whispered with a soft smile, holding you even tighter like he could shield you from the cold with sheer willpower. You went into the bathroom to change out of your soaking wet clothes and chucked on some quadrant joggers and the hoodie Lando had been keeping warm for you 

You rejoined the group now with a hot chocolate in your hands that Lando had been stealing sips out of, "fuck off this is my drink" you laughed snatching it back while he pouted dramatically. He responded by wrapping his arms around you again, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead despite your protests.

View comments 

@.user Y/N wearing his old F2 helmet is killing me they’re too cute.

@.user2 Petition for Y/N to be in every Quadrant video forever.

→ @.Quadrant we will try and convince her don't worry 

@.user3 I swear this video is just 50% Karting and 50% Lando being soft with Y/N.

please reblog and like 🫶

[pleaselmhau]

You knew Ghost wouldn’t go out of his way for Halloween, he barely even realizes the holidays happened when they passed. But you were determined to show him how fun Halloween can be by combining it with his favorite thing fucking you you.

When you handed him a wolf costume he nearly asked if you lost your goddamn mind. Though with a few many pleas and sweet looks he caved somewhat. You had gotten him a ridiculous set, but the look he gave the package and the muttered “fucking hell,” had you knowing you were not gonna get a tail tied around his waist. No matter how funny it would be to chase the big guy around trying to tie it on. So you settle for letting him wear his combat uniform, mask and all, and just the wolf ears. It’s not much but it does the trick. “Wait here,” you chime sweetly before scampering off to go put on your own costume.

You felt nervous under his piercing gaze, waiting for him to say anything, “well…?” You finally cave, needing to know what he was thinking behind those stoic eyes. His eyes trail over your bunny costume in full. The full white outfit, the thigh highs, the floppy bunny ears on either side of your head held in place by a headband, the way you did your makeup to make you’re eyes look bigger and made your nose pink. “It’s… cute.” He finally says. His brows raise just a bit as his eyes meet yours again. He’s standing on the opposite end of the hallway, having gotten bored of waiting and walked out of the bedroom just in time to see you coming out of the bathroom. He looks intimidating, standing there nearly blending into he shadows, two pointed ears on the top of his head and skull mask staring right back at you.

“You get it? Like you’re the wolf and I’m the bunny, we’re like a pair.” You add on, waiting for any real reaction really. His hands shift to the walls surrounding on either side of him, palms pressing flat against the hard surface. “Mhm,” he hums, still giving muted responses. “So like-..” you stammer out, but are cut off by him. “Well go on then, little rabbit, hop along.” Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment before you see him shifting his stance, getting ready. So he did know what you wanted. You suck in a sharp breath before swiveling around and taking off away from him. His hands, flat against the wall push off as he takes off after you.

To make the sharp turn faster he just slides right into the wall with a loud thud from how fast he took off and it startled the shit out of you. Of course you knew what he was doing, chasing you, but you didn’t realize how hard he would go. It makes you redouble your efforts, letting out a gasp as your socked feet press harder into the hardwood. Using your hand on the wall to slide around the next corner. You can hear his heavy footsteps behind you, the sound going quiet as he fully slides around the corner too like he’s trying to drift on his socks. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest, your lungs just starting to burn as you quickly round the coffee table, pausing with him on the other side. His chest heaves, though you get the impression he’s putting on the full show for you rather than it being from exertion, he’s very in shape from his job. It works, maybe too well. Seeing him standing there at his full height, watching you with tunnel vision, body coiled like a snake ready to strike. You try to fake him out, stepping one way then going the other but he doesn’t budge much, just a slight shift in his weight. He lowers his center of gravity, one hand reaching forward slowly to rest on the coffee table and you realize what he’s doing just in time to sprint away as his foot presses to the coffee table and he vaults right over it. You don’t get far though.

His body slams right into your back, and your heart stops for a second as you almost crash face first into the hard wall, but his hands juts out, stopping both of you right before with his other arm around your waist. He doesn’t even give you a moment to catch your breath or to calm your racing heart, before he’s pushing your front right up against the wall. His body curls around yours, flush from head to knee. Well until one of his thighs slots between yours, knee pressing against the wall as his hands roughly pull your hips back so your ass is flush with his groin and his thigh is pressed up against your sex. You can feel the cold, hard plastic of his mask press into the side of your neck, followed by the scruffy fur of his cheap wolf ears brushing against your temple as he whispers in your ear. “Caught you.”

[drghostwrite]

Your Honor, She’s irresistible…

okay not a request… but like I’m OBSESSED with this woman right now… like can’t get enough and can I just say round of applause STANDING OVATION for @covenofagatha… please my loves go support her, she’s literally amazing!!💋

side note: if this is bad PLEASE let a girl know, or if there is anything I should change… I’m begging, please let me know.

Okay enough rambling here is my take on an Agatha x reader…

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!lawyer!reader

Summary: Reader is a cutthroat intimidating lawyer, but also a powerful witch… a witch that used to be the enemy turned lover of the Agatha Harkness, the lover that Agatha abandoned… one night Agatha reappears and rekindles an old spark.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, breeding kink, strap-on and oral smut(r receiving)

*******************************************************

You can feel the exhaustion clinging to you as you pull your sleek, black Range Rover into the garage, its low purr echoing in the enclosed space. The leather steering wheel feels smooth beneath your fingers, the faint scent of your signature perfume lingering in the air. You shut off the engine and exhale, leaning your head back against the seat for a brief moment before opening the door.

Something feels… off.

The air seems thicker tonight, heavier, as though it’s pressing down on you. You shake it off, slipping your heels onto the polished floor and shutting the door behind you with a practiced flick of your wrist, and you stride through the door that leads into your home, your designer heels clicking rhythmically against the floor.

You’ve had a long day, winning a nearly impossible case and leaving your opponents scrambling. The thrill of the victory is overshadowed only by the aching knot at the base of your neck. As you shrug off your tailored tan trench coat and hang it neatly by the door, you toss your keys into the porcelain bowl on the side table.

Your brain goes on autopilot as you pass through the living room, your eyes brushing over the soft glow of the fireplace and the way it casts golden hues against your minimalist decor. Nothing seems out of place. Still, that feeling gnaws at the edges of your awareness.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of deep red wine, savoring the way the liquid slides into the crystal glass. You take a small sip, letting it linger on your tongue, as you move back to the living room. That’s when you hear it—a low, sultry chuckle that sends a shiver cascading down your spine.

“Nice place. Very… you,” the voice purrs.

You whirl around, the stem of your wineglass nearly slipping through your fingers, and there she is.

“Agatha,” you say, tone as sharp as the stilettos your wearing.

Her smirk widened, eyes darkening as she purred, “Well hello to you to darling.”

Her voice was rich, smooth as silk but twice as dangerous as she sits lounging in your favorite armchair as though she belongs there, one leg crossed lazily over the other. Her signature purple pants cling to her in all the right places, the soft fabric stretching across her toned thighs. The white button-up she’s wearing is undone just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of her breast, the glint of her pendant resting in the hollow of her throat catching the firelight. She looks smug. Dangerous. Devastatingly beautiful.

“Breaking and entering, Agatha?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You take another slow sip of your wine, masking the way your pulse is racing. “Even for you, that’s bold.”

“Please,” her lips curving into a smirk. “Do you really think a deadbolt is enough to keep me out? Besides…” Her eyes trail over you, “I’ve been dying to see you in your element. You wear power well, darling…”

You can feel her eyes as they take in your strong form, the maroon suit, with your satin black top slightly unbuttoned, your satin designer heels showing off the curve and tone of your legs.

She bites her bottom lip while she smirks, “I mean, look at you… you’re far more tempting than you realize in those designer stilettos”

You scoff, but you can’t help the heat spreading through your body. “And you wear arrogance like a badge of honor… is this your idea of seduction, Agatha?… Breaking into my house and throwing around cheap compliments?”

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied you, a suggestive smirk on her lips. “Who said anything about seduction? But… if I were seducing you, I’d hardly call it cheap. I’d say something more like…” Her voice dipped into a sultry tone, and her eyes flashed with something dark.

“Your suit… flawless. But I bet you look even better without it. And those heels?… Darling, they belong wrapped around my waist.”

You tried keeping your composure but your face flushed at her words, at the image of your bodies tangled together, tasting her on your lips, Agatha in your bed, flashing in your mind.

Her chuckle deepens as she leans forward, “I missed this, you know? Missed you… That fire in your eyes, that razor-sharp tongue of yours. Tell me, do you save all your sass for me, or do your clients get to enjoy it too?”

“Get to the point, Agatha,” you snap, trying to ignore the way her words are already winding their way under your skin. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course,” she says smoothly, standing in one fluid motion. Her boots click softly against the floor as she steps toward you, her eyes never leaving yours. “You know, I thought time away would make me forget. But then I realized… I don’t want to forget you.”

Her words are velvet and steel, cutting and caressing all at once. She’s close now, so close you can smell her—lavender and something darker, more intoxicating. You don’t step back. Instead, you lift your chin, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You left me, Agatha… I should throw you out,” you say, though your voice has lost some of its bite as your lips are a breath apart.

“But you won’t,” she counters, a wicked smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve missed me. Admit it.”

“Missed what? Your penchant for chaos? Your never-ending ego?… something like that.”

“Admit that you love that I was never afraid of you… never afraid of your power.” she murmurs, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. Her hand comes up, fingers brushing against the lapel of your blazer, and you shiver despite yourself. “You missed this. Us.”

“Maybe… still, you think you can walk back into my life, my home and have me fall at your feet?” You shot back trying to hold onto whatever dignity you had left.

“My love, I don’t need you to fall at my feet… I just need you to take off those pretty shoes and kneel.”

Before you can respond, her hand trails down to your waist, her touch igniting a fire you’ve been trying to extinguish for years.

Damn her. Damn her and her perfect smirk, her piercing blue eyes.

“God, I hate you,” you mutter, your voice betraying you, trembling with need and something far more dangerous.

“Funny,” she says, leaning in again so her lips are just a breath away from yours. “Because I think I’m still in love with you.”

The words unravel something inside you. Before you can think, you’re kicking off your stilettos, pushing her back into the chair, dropping to your knees in front of her.

Your hands glide up her thighs, the fabric of her pants taut beneath your touch. Her breath hitches, and the sound makes the heat in your core pool even more.

“Say it again,” you demand, your voice low as you bury your face against her stomach, your hands gripping her hips.

She tightens her fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to make you look up at her. Her blue eyes are shimmering with something dark. “I love you,” she murmurs, her voice a seductive promise.

You rise slowly, crawling up her body until your lips crash into hers, years of tension and desire finally breaking free. Her hands are everywhere… your waist, your hips, your back… as you kiss her like she’s the only thing anchoring you to the world.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, your hands move to her shirt, your fingers ghost over exposed skin before ripping it open to reveal dark purple lace. Agatha laughs, the sound rich and full and you can feel your body wanting to have every part of her.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” she teases, her hands skillfully take off your blazer and top, revealing black lingerie underneath, fingers splaying across the exposed skin of your stomach and sides.

“Shut up,” you whisper, pressing your lips to hers in a bruising kiss, her hand finding the clasp of your bra, pausing to see if you stop her.

You don’t.

“Still bossy I see… guess somethings never change.” You cut her off with another breathtaking kiss, her hands coming to support your hips as you straddle her lap.

“Agatha…” you whisper, suddenly very aware of how much you needed her touch.

“What do you need, my love?” She whispers teasingly, placing kisses along your stomach and breast, she bites into your breast leaving marks that will be found tomorrow morning.

“Dammit Agatha… I need…” her hands guide your hips as you grind down into her lap, trying to relieve the ache you feel building, her hand unbuttons your pants ghosting over the black lace panties.

“Your words darling… use your words.”

“I need you… to fuck me…” you moan as her hand dips into your panties, her long fingers sliding easily through your folds, ghosting over your clit, dipping back into you collecting your slick, as your pretty sure you’ve now ruined your underwear and a perfectly tailored pair of pants.

“Darling, I’m going to ruin you…” she whispers, suddenly pulling her hand out, you can see yourself glistening on her fingers as she puts them in her mouth, her tongue cleaning them before she pulls you down to kiss her, you can taste yourself on her lips.

You grind down into her hips even harder a moan escaping your lips at the friction, but this time you notice the bulge in her pants. You pull back and see her pupils blown with lust, her smirk devilish.

“Shittt…” you hiss at the realization making you even wetter than before, if that’s humanly possible. Immediately your hands were tugging at her pants as you stood to pull them down her thighs, the large purple strap on springing free.

“You didn’t think I’d forget your favorite part did you…” she teased, reaching for your chin as your jaw dropped.

“Why don’t you show me how you get ready to ride my dick?” She demanded more than suggested. You dropped to your knees in front of her again, dragging your tongue along the length. You let the tip smoothly slide into your mouth swirling your tongue around the toy, and quickly realizing it wasn’t just a toy when her head dropped back lips parted. Her hand came to wrap in your hair as you slightly bobbed your head.

She could feel this.

You grasped her thigh to steady yourself before taking the whole member in your mouth, almost gagging as it slid into your throat, her hand in your hair tightened but the sting only encouraged you. Your lungs burned for air as her hips jolted against you, but before you could continue she pulled you off, as she breathlessly readjusted in the chair. She smirked down on you before her nails lifted your chin, digging into the soft skin.

“I’m so screwed…” you whispered before bending down to kiss her again.

“fucked, darling… you’re so fucked…” with a wave of her hand you were both completely bare accept for the dick she was currently sporting, she grasped your hand to pull you into her lap, her hands coming to your thighs as she steadied you.

You bit your lip and a small whine escaped as you felt her pull the tip through your dripping core, she could see you dripping down your thighs, glistening in the soft glow from the fireplace.

“I’ve missed seeing you so desperate… so needy for me to fuck you senseless…” She whispered as she pushed herself inside you. You took a moment to adjust as you sank down onto her, you didn’t remember her ever being this big, but the pain quickly turned to pleasure.

You slowly start to move up and down, swirling your hips the best you could, you were so close already.

“Mmm…” she moaned before biting her lip, watching you move, “I forgot how good you look riding me.”

Her sultry tone was igniting a fire in you, your movements speeding up as you brought yourself to the edge of pleasure, one hand pressed to her chest as the other was on her thigh. You could feel her enchanted strap, her dick pulsing inside you, she moved an arm to wrap around your waist and roughly pulled you close.

You tried steadying yourself at the loss of balance, one hand coming to the back of the chair and the other slid up to grab the only thing it met, her neck.

You gently grasped to steady yourself and you could feel her groan catch in her throat, her hips bucking into you roughly and you clenched around her, sending you both tumbling over the edge. You bend down pulling her into a breathless kiss as your orgasm overtakes you, you can feel her painting your walls white as she cums inside you.

You stay like that for a moment before your hands lower to wrap around her shoulders, your brain barely able to form a thought.

The world around you blurs and you barely register as she shifts, so effortlessly changing the dynamic that your head spins. One moment you’re in control and the next you’re under her, her body caging yours on your plush couch. She pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other slipping down to grip your thigh.

“Still think you’re in charge?” She asks, her breathe warm against your ear.

“I let you think you’re winning,” you grinned lazily, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh sweetheart, I never get used to anything with you, that’s the fun of it.” Agatha bends down her lips trailing the soft skin of your jawline and neck. Her hands mapping your curves with possessive hunger as she adjusts herself between your legs.

She has your entire being at her mercy, your magics surging through the room. Her hand comes down between your legs, finding your core dripping from the aftermath of both yours and her orgasms, her cum mixing with yours and leaking out of you, her fingers dip down to collect it before teasingly playing with your clit.

“Such a good girl, greedily taking my cum like that.”

She smiles devilishly, but before you can respond her mouth is on your pussy, eating you out, her tongue swirling on your clit as two fingers easily slip inside you, curling to hit that sweet spongy spot.

Your moans fill the room as she drags your body to the edge, her fingers continue to pump in and out, as her lips trail softly against your inner thigh, her teeth grazing to leave marks that you will find later. Your hand tangles in her hair as her mouth returns to your clit, your hips bucking into her, grinding against her mouth as she smirks up at you.

That’s when she pulls her fingers out, her tongue flatly coming to drag through your folds before she realigns her strap thrusting deep into you… a moan escapes your lip as she leaves wet kisses over your stomach and back up to your chest. You turn into a mess beneath her as she slowly, almost painfully slow, moves in and out of you.

Her voice is low and sultry when she finally breaks the silence, “Do you have any idea how stunning you would look pregnant?” She murmurs, placing wet kisses along your collar bone.

Your breath catches and you blink at her startled, “Excuse me?”

Agatha chuckles, her hands sliding down to grip your hips roughly. Her nails dig into your skin, possessive and firm. She lifts her head, her piercing blue eyes meeting yours,

“You heard me,” she says, her tone dripping with confidence. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”

Your mind spins at her words, a thousand responses swirling through your head. But Agatha doesn’t give you a chance to react, her lips return to your skin, and her voice drops into a whisper.

“Can’t you picture it, darling?” she says, her words punctuated by the warm press of her lips against your neck as she slowly thrusts into you again. “You, round and glowing, carrying our child. You’d look divine. Absolutely ravishing.”

The thought catches you completely off guard, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Agatha takes advantage of your silence, her hand sliding up your side, her touch gentle and grounding as her thrusts become quicker.

“You’d be mine,” she continues, her voice thick with possession as she feels you buck and clench around her. “Completely, utterly mine. Everyone would see it… see you… and know you belong to me. We’d belong to each other.”

You inhale sharply, your pulse hammering in your ears, your brain going completely blank aside from the image of you heavily pregnant with her baby. “Agatha,” you start, your voice uncertain, but there’s no denying the way her words send heat pooling low in your stomach, the knot tightening inside of you ready to burst.

Her voice drops to a husky murmur. “You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you? The thought of me putting my mark on you, making you mine in every way that matters.” Her lips ghost over your jawline, her breath warm against your skin her hips meeting yours harder. “You’d be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The boldness of her words makes your cheeks flush, but beneath the surprise theres a thrill you can’t ignore. The idea is outrageous, unthinkable… and yet, there’s a part of you that finds it intoxicating.

You tilt your head, eyes meeting hers and you breathlessly whisper, “You’re awfully confident for someone who hasn’t asked my opinion.”

Agatha’s grin widens, “Oh, I don’t need to ask... I can feel it, the way you clenched around my dick when I mentioned filling you up. You’re tempted. You want it as much as I do.”

Her words are a challenge, daring you to deny her, but instead of pulling away, you arch an eyebrow, your hips grinding roughly against her. “And what if I do?”

Her eyes darken, the air between you crackling with tension. “Then tell me,” she murmurs, her grip on you tightening slightly. “Say it… Tell me to do it.”

For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of her words settling in your chest. But then, as you meet her gaze, steady and unyielding, something inside you shifts. This is Agatha… chaos and passion and raw, unfiltered power. If anyone could make such an impossible idea feel like destiny, it’s her.

You lean in, your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper, “Do it, cum in me and make sure I’m pregnant with your baby… make me yours.”

She grinned before pulling you into a breathless kiss, the sounds of wet skin meeting skin filling the room as she rammed into you over and over, your back arched into her as her hands ran over your body, gently slithering up your sides before one came to grip the back of your thigh.

You could feel her getting sloppy as she thrusted, her lips coming down to suck on a erect nipple as you tangled your hand in her hair, your other hand dragging your nails over her shoulder, leaving a wake of red scratches.

“Agatha… baby I’m gonna…” Before you could finish, the knot snapped, pleasure flooding your body as she continued thrusting harshly into you, soon you could feel her as she released inside of you.

“You did so well darling…” she trailed as she tried holding herself above you, the strap on still inside you.

After a few moments later you moved, with a flick of your wrist you found yourselves in your bed, still naked, but cleaned up and cozily tangled together underneath your blankets.

“You won’t regret this…” she trailed her skilled fingers tracing lazy patterns against the skin of your stomach and hip, “I’ll give you everything you wanted… and more.”

You didn’t say anything as you heard her breathing slow, her hand falling softly against you as she slipped into a deep sleep. There was a part of you that knew it might not work, you had been enemies turned lovers before and she abandoned you, but there was a bigger part of you that still loved her.

No matter how much you wanted to hate her, you loved her and wanted nothing more than to make it known that you belonged to her… and that she belonged to you.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Fifteen

Steve’s left bloody smears on the tiles, but the bleeding does seem to have turned a little more sluggish; he’s too frightened now to pull his sock away, he’s pretty sure it’s stuck to the wounds where the blood has started to crust over.

From the floor, Steve manages to reach up for the phone, it rings nearly a dozen times, but Steve persists. He knows Hopper will assume it’s an emergency.

Steve hates doing this, but he definitely can’t drive. Just the thought of making it to the car on his own makes him cringe, and the dull, thudding pain is radiating out to the rest of his foot.

“Hopper.”

“Hop. Sorry. I think I need some help.”

“On my way.”

The doctor frowns at Steve spectacularly, “a raccoon?”

“I know, wild right?”

“So that means he definitely needs a tetanus,” Hopper says unhelpfully from where he’s perched on the other side of the treatment room. He’s got a coffee in a Styrofoam cup and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Steve hisses as the doctor uses some saline to loosen the sock, peeling it away from the wound, “I’ll give you something to numb the area, and then it will need some stitches. An x-ray might-”

“Nah,” Steve interjects, “stitch me up, I need to get home.”

The doctor has that look on her face again. From the other side of the room, Hopper sighs, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Steve can hear El and Eddie from where he’s standing in the kitchen. El’s been teaching him stuff again; today she’s taught him the ABC song. They rush through when they get to the ‘LMNOP’ part, making Steve smile.

“Okay Steve, we’re ready!” El shouts for him from the next room, and Steve goes in.

The furniture's been moved out of the way, Eddie lying on his back in the middle of the room. He’s laying on a white sheet, the long point of his tale stark black against the material. Next to his hip, there’s a pair of legs. They stand perfectly fine on their own, disembodied, rounds of flat pale skin on top, where they end at the thighs.

Eddie looks over smiling, “oh good, you’ve brought it.”

Steve looks down. In his hand he’s holding a saw.

Steve wakes, flailing. He’s gasping for air, trying to orientate himself. Panicking.

He’s sitting. It takes him a few confused seconds, but it all comes flooding back. Fuck, his neck hurts, and his back.

Just a dream he thinks on repeat to himself. Just a dream just a dream just a dream.

His foot. His foot is still up on the coffee table, “Steve, come on, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“What,” he manages to croak out.

“Here, drink this,” Robin hands him a half glass of tepid water, Steve downs it, “you had a nightmare.”

There’s a towel and a bag of peas draped over Steve’s ankle; trying to cool the area. Keep the swelling down, or whatever. The peas are melted now, the bag sagging in either direction with the weight of the mush inside.

The sight of it makes a sob catch in Steve’s chest, it comes out in a huge shudder, and Steve’s only vaguely worried he’ll never be able to walk the frozen isle in the store again. That he will cry spontaneously every time someone offers him a pear.

“When did you get here?”

“Mom dropped me off, Hopper wanted someone to watch you. He’s going to go check on El.”

Steve’s head feels muzzy. Too much has happened. They didn’t get home until the early hours, and Steve’s blinking in the full light of day that’s streaming into the lounge. “Where is he now?”

“Back yard.”

That takes a second to process, “no.”

Steve pulls his foot down, wobbling as he stands, leaving the towel and peas abandoned, “Steve, hang on.”

The dressing and stitches feel like they’re pulling as Steve takes a few tentative steps, the whole end of his foot feels like it’s burning, Steve moves until he can see Hopper; he can see him from the back, he’s smoking and looking down into the pool.

“Robs, get him away from there, please. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” she says, holding her hands out like she’s dealing with a skittish animal, she goes to the door, opening it and calling, “Hopper, he’s up!”

Hopper comes back in, dropping the end of his cigarette and stamping it out with his boot on his way in, “kid, are you sure he went into the pool?”

The implication of Hopper's question has Steve’s moving before he can really think about it, Robin calling after him that he’s got nothing on his feet, that it’s cold out. Steve ignores her. He has to walk funny, keeping all his weight on his heel on the left foot, but he makes it work. He sees why Hoppers asking; the water of the pool is opaque white.

It looks like the whole thing is filled with milk.

Hopper leaves to go and check on El. Steve’s glad, he did cause Hopper to have to leave her in the middle of the night, and that’s not fair on El, she might be worried.

Steve’s had maybe a couple of hours sleep on the couch, passing out when they got back from hospital. “You don’t have to do that,” he tells Robin; she’s scrubbing at the bloody smears Steve’s left on the kitchen tile.

“It’s fine, and it’s not like you’re in any condition to do it. What the fuck Steve, Hopper said he bit off two toes??”

Steve looks down at where the dressing’s covering his foot, “yeah.” Robin sits back on her haunches, bloody rag in hand, glaring. “He said that...if he eats Demogorgon, then that’s what he becomes. And if he eats Demodog, he becomes one of those so…”

“So you let him eat some of you instead? Because that’s the sane response-”

“I love him, Robs.”

She sighs, “I figured.”

Robin spends most of the day. She talks him into eating some toast; he balks at the thought of soup. Steve takes his pain killers and his antibiotics under Robins close supervision. They have the TV on, and Steve sleeps more.

She tells him to come away when he spends too much time staring out of the window.

Robin has to go that evening; she only does because Steve swears on everything she can think of that he will be fine. He will eat some eggs. He will take his pills. He’s not a complete invalid.

Robin leaves him after what is probably a ten minute hug, and a promise that she will sell Keith on Steve’s 'family emergency.'

The eggs are sitting heavy in Steve’s stomach when he hobbles outside. He managed to get a sock on over his dressing, but couldn’t bare the thought of anything else pressing on his wound, so he goes out like that. Just in socks.

He has a coat on at least, and takes the blanket, knocking snow off a pool lounger and moving it to the edge of the pool so he can sit with his feet up, wrapped in the blanket. The water still hasn’t frozen; but it is darker than it was. It’s turned a sort of pale mucky brown, like someone's mixed some dirt in.

Or chocolate milk.

Steve sits, and he waits, and he cries quietly.

Eventually the cold gets too much, and he heads back inside to try and sleep on the couch.

Steve stares blankly at the unlit Christmas tree, and considers dragging the thing outside and setting fucking fire to it.

He hasn’t cried since he woke up, which is a new current record, and he doesn’t understand where the anger has come from...but he thinks he might prefer it. It’s not fair. Nothing about this is fair, and it fills Steve with a rage he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced before.

Hopper sits opposite Steve, leaning forward, his hands dangling loose between his knees, and Steve knows that this is Hoppers ‘I’m trying to be kind, or sympathetic, or understanding face,’ Steve also knows he’s not going to like whatever is about to come out of Hopper's mouth and he’s already angry about it.

“Kid, I really think we should drain the pool.”

“No.”

Hopper takes a deep breath, “son,” and that one word fills Steve with a rage so complete he feels utterly still. Utterly calm. He’s completely empty, in that moment, except for the rage, “if we don’t, his body will rot into the water, and if you want to be able to bury him? Then-”

“Out.”

“-what?”

“Out,” Steve stands, and he speaks calmly and levelly, “get out of my house. Right now.”

Hopper doesn’t stand, he spreads his hands in a non threatening gesture, “El says she’s can’t feel him, kid, he’s gone-”

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Steve screams at him, suddenly full to brimming, his hears his pounding, breaths sharp, “I said get out!”

Hopper sighs. He looks at Steve with...pity on his face, but he gets up, and he leaves.

The water is so dark now it looks nearly black. Murky and shitty. There are black, choking vines growing up the inside of the tiles; clinging to the sides of the pool. Some of them are long enough to creep up over the edge, like The Upside Down is bleeding into Hawkins again. Steve is reminded viscerally of Barb Holland, and he hates it.

The phone is ringing. Steve ignores it until it stops.

It makes him itchy, ignoring the phone. It’s too ingrained in him that something could be wrong. It’s an emergency. The kids might need him.

It starts ringing again; Steve answers it this time, but only as a preventative measure. If he doesn’t answer it, whoever it is might show up, and Steve would really rather not right now.

“Hey, Steve.” Robs is uncharacteristically quiet. Reserved. “So...it’s Christmas tomorrow and, I know you said you didn’t want to come for the day but...what about in the evening? Just for a little bit?” She asks, hopefully. “Mom says we can save you some leftovers, you know.”

“Yeah...yeah, that’s really kind and everything Rob...” Steve trails off scrubbing at his face. He’s got a fair bit of stubble going on, and he only showered this morning because even he could pick up on the fact that he stank.

She sighs quietly, “have you been eating? Taking your meds?”

“I...yeah. Some. And finished the antibiotics.”

“Good. That’s good. You want me to come over then?”

“Uhm. No. No that’s fine you, you should have a nice Christmas with your family, okay? We can talk after.”

“Steve…”

“I know, Robs, I know, but I’ll be fine,” Steve tells her with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

“Okay, well, I’ll call tomorrow. Love you, Dingus.”

“Love you too Birdie.”

There are thick black vines growing up the legs of Steve’s pool chair; he ignores them. He climbs into position, wrapping himself in his blanket. He has a beer, his pills are finished now, so he can’t see the harm.

“I had a shower Eds, sure you’re pleased to hear that. Took the dressing off my foot, and it looks fine, you didn’t hurt me, not really.” Steve tacks on, “not ow,” out of habit.

Steve sips his beer, pulling the blanket tighter around his legs, and not thinking about Eddie's tail doing the same, “I’m supposed to have an appointment to get the stitches out, but it’s not until like the twenty seventh, or something, you know, everything being shut for Christmas. Which is tomorrow, by the way.”

Steve sighs, “anyway, I probably won’t go, it really doesn’t look so bad now, I think I could get them out with nail scissors and some tweezers, so I might just do that.”

Steve sips his beer, watching the laden pale clouds scud along overhead, “I think it might snow again, that’d be nice, right? White Christmas and all that stuff.”

Steve sighs again, and quietly admits, “I think you would have really liked Christmas. You get like, gifts and stuff-”

There’s a frantic splash in the pool, Steve’s up as quick as he can, fighting with his blanket, his beer bottle falling, forgotten, and rolling away on the tiles, getting caught on a vine.

Steve’s flooded with adrenaline, heart beating so fast, he doesn't register the chill as he scrambles up, stepping to the edge of the pool.

Eddie’s on the steps, he’s covered in so much slime and shit from the pool it's hard to see him, but Steve doesn’t care how dirty it is, he’s knee deep and helping to haul Eddie out the rest of the way.

He has no hair; but he does have legs, and he takes a stumbled step with Steve before collapsing to the ground. He can’t breathe, he’s bent over, on his hands and knees, choking. Steve’s lifeguard first aid training kicks in before he can really think about it; fueled by adrenaline, he braces Eddie with an arm about his middle, then using the palm of his hand he delivers one hard upward blow between Eddie’s shoulder blades.

Eddie splutters, but there’s nothing, so Steve does it again. Suddenly, like a seal has been broken, Eddie coughs up what might be nearly a pint of fluid, yellow and green and streaked with pink blood, it splatters loudly on the ground.

Eddie drags in a huge breath; it might be the most beautiful sound Steve’s ever heard.

They collapse down again, Eddie shivering like crazy, his teeth chattering; Steve grabs his blanket, covering Eddie. He’s naked and covered in gross shit, completely hairless, and has long gangly legs. Steve doesn’t pay attention to any of it really. Just Eddie. Eddie’s here.

He smells fucking awful, but Steve doesn’t care, Steve bundles him up and pulls him close, “Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie blinks, his eyes crusted with gack from the pool, pink and puffy and sore looking around the lids, the whites bloodshot to fuck, his voice a raspy mess, the words broken by how violently his teeth are chattering, “Eddidie good bad.”

Steve bursts into tears.

Part Seventeen

[goorgeousz]

emily mentions your underwear once and your brain short circuits

drabble

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

content/tw: alcohol, mentions of underwears, reader wears a g-string, spencer gets super flustered, emily and reader flirt around like derek and garcia

a/n: I’ve listened to “guess” over 15 times in a row yesterday and this scenario keept popping up in my mind. anyways, hope you enjoy it <3

part two here

masterlist

dividers by @uzmacchiato

“Ugh. Why do men.” you groaned, placing your phone back down on the table after checking your new notification.

“What did he say now?” Garcia asked, leaning towards you.

“He asked me the color of my underwear.” you handed her the phone. Morgan and Reid, on each of her sides, leaned closer to see the text, in amusement and disgust, respectively.

“Reid, why do men seem to be so fascinated with women’s clothing?” Emily asked him.

“This is not… exactly my…field of expertise.” he started, blushing slightly, but excited as he always gets when someone encourages his ramblings. “But I do think it’s similar to the thought of people preferring privacy accounts over porn videos. It adds a level of intimacy and personal connection to the fantasy. He could just… masturbate thinking about you or looking for a picture. But when he asks you this, he’s bringing you into his imagination, making you actively participate in it. That’s my take, I think.” he shrugged.

“That’s… very smart.” you state, amazed. He smiles. “But I still think men are horrible. Terrible.”

“Don’t generalize.” Morgan pointed out, which earned him eye rolling from you, Emily and Penelope “Okay, okay!” he raised his hands in mock surrender “I’ll get another round of shots to apologize on our behalf.”

That earned him a kiss on the cheek from Garcia. She followed him toward the bar, leaving on the table only you, Spencer and Emily.

“I still don’t see the appeal. It doesn’t turn me on thinking about what kind of clothing he has on right now.”

“Well, women's undergarments are much more attractive than men’s.” Spender answers to you, blushing again furiously

“Let’s test that theory.” Emily suggests, turning her body completely towards you.

Mirroring her move, you turned on your seat to face her “What’s the color of your underwear?” you asked between giggles, trying (and failing) to make your voice sound low and sexy.

Emily, on the other hand, managed to bite back a laugh just fine, her amused smile turning into a smug smirk in a second. She leaned in, “I’m wearing a dark purple lace bra. It has a white bow between my… you know.” she winked.

Instantly you felt your mouth dry, the loud music from the bar faded away and it was only you and her. And her dark purple lace bra. You and her are used to jokingly flirting here and there, but, for some reason, it never actually felt real until that moment.

Your mind went blank, the only thing you could come up with was “Yeah?”

Her smirk grew, like she knew what it was doing to you “Mhmm. And it’s a set. My underwear is just like my bra: dark purple and lace, with the white little bow on the top. A g-string, just like yours.”

And that’s when you collapsed. Your eyes widened slightly, your face heating like she just slapped you.

Then, she switched it off. Her teasing posture was gone and she laughed loudly. Because you had no idea what just happened or what to do, you laughed with her, but clearly fakely. She turned towards Reid, whose eyes were about to pop out of his head, his face somehow redder than yours.

“I see the appeal.” she confessed to him, like she wanted him to add that to his database.

“Woah, what happened here? Why does Reid look like he just got a second-degree burn?” Morgan asked, setting the five glass shots on the table.

“They were flirting. Again. Guys, you know it breaks Reid.” Garcia chimed in, placing down a little plate with salt and lemon slices.

“Leave the foreplay to the bedroom, Misses.” he added, giving you a teasing wink.

“Oh, I wish. She likes boys.” Emily said, putting salt on her wrist before turning to you with a knowing smirk “But she knows I’d hit it.”

[nymphoniah]

thinking about old man logan all tired, but you’re so needy that you take matters into your own hands…

you find logan resting in his office, seated on his leather arm chair. white button up messily undone, revealing his worn out beater underneath. his chest hair peeking through the shallow neckline of the shirt, leaving your mind to wonder about.

you couldn’t help but approach him. curling up in logan’s lap, your head resting against his broad chest. your fingers gently rubbing against his ribbed tank top that fits snug against him. his body isn’t what it once was before, but he still remains defined and muscular.

logan’s salt-and-pepper beard tickling your rose tinted cheeks as you litter his face in kisses. you can’t help but take in his beauty, he absolutely aged like wine.

moving your fingers from his chest to the shell of his ears, you swiftly remove his glasses from his face. you press your lips gently against the crow’s feet that defined his tired eyes, making him crack a tiny smile.

“you’re so handsome, logan.” you sigh, placing his glasses onto the side table placed on his right. you rest your head back on his chest, taking a deep sigh. the scent of his cologne floods your senses, bourbon and vanilla.

nsfw below <3

you shift around, straddling yourself onto his left thigh. your legs wrapped ‘round him like a vice whilst your core pulses for attention against his tense quad.

“looks like someone’s needy,” he hums out, placing his hands on your hips, gently guiding you back and forth against him. “cmon baby, take it out on me.” you gently rock your hips, keeping a slow and steady pace.

with age, he’s lost his stamina for sure, but he always has the energy for you. making sure that you get off, anytime and anywhere. you’re his princess, and he makes sure to spoil you.

your hips rock in tandem against his thigh as he rhythmically bounces his leg to match your pace. you mewl in pleasure, tilting your head back as ecstasy fills your mind.

logan places gentle, sloppy kisses against your neck, making sure to pay close attention to your pulse point. he’s nipping at the soft skin of your neck, concentrating on one area enough to leave a maroon bruise the next day.

both of your movements become more erratic. as your pace quickens, his hands move to your chest, groping your breasts, thumbs nimbly working at your buds, rolling and gently tugging on them.

you hiss out in pleasure, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. “so close…” you whimper, biting your bottom lip tightly to alleviate the growing tension in your stomach.

“let it out bub, i know you can do it for me,” he grunts into your neck, his hands finding their way back to your hips, pushing you harder down onto him.

absolutely soaking through your panties, you can feel the patch of wetness you left on his light washed denim jeans. you’re faltering on the edge, not wanting to let yourself go so soon.

“you want this princess, let go for your daddy,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, and you finally tick.

you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you, your pants becoming more and more exhausted. your hips thrust forward and hard around him one last time, and the knot in your stomach finally snaps.

“f-fuck logan, fuck!” you whine, your combined moans filling his office.

you gently pull away from him, pressing your forehead against his, your lust blown pupils meeting his stern gaze.

“yknow how to rile me up,” he says cheekily, gently molding your ass between his fingertips. “almost got me to come in my pants like a teenager,” logan snarkily adds.

“shut it old man,” you quipped, taking his glasses from the side table and placing them back on him so that they sit on the edge of his nose bridge. you press a quick kiss to his lips which soon formed into a smirk.

“let me show you what this old man can do…” he murmurs against your lips.

[thanksbutno98]

Jail

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price ends up in jail after protecting a loved one.

Warnings: Sexual themes, violence, blood, fighting, not edited.

——————

“Date night, date night, date night.” You chanted over and over.

John was chuckling and following you close behind while puffing on a cigar. The way your ass moved in that little black dress made John very thankful for date night. You were two glasses of wine in and John knew another drink would mean he was getting lucky tonight, if he wasn’t already.

You wore a black fitted velvet dress that came to mid thigh. It was long sleeved and had a square neckline. You paired it with silver jewelry and your black red bottom heels. You knew your ass and tits looked amazing in this dress by the way John kept groping you every chance he had. Your hair was loosely pulled back and framed your face elegantly while you did natural makeup.

John dressed much simpler in his black slacks and white button down. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and top two buttons undone. John had on his silver watch and shiny black loafers. You thought he looked so handsome with his beared neatly trimmed and his fresh haircut. And he smelled nicer than he looked with his oaky cologne and beard oil.

Life had slowed down with your children out of the house besides your youngest daughter. Jj had just gotten home from his latest deployment while Evelyn was in medical school. Lily was just finishing up school and was accepted into a culinary program. John consistently made sweet comments that you were able to hold on to your figure when you had a daughter who baked so much. He on the other hand was combatting weight gain and breaking even some days due to Lily’s exquisite desserts. John wasn’t losing by much and held on to his muscular frame but had developed a softer stomach instead of his toned abs that were now hidden beneath the thin layer of fat.

Tonight you two decided since your youngest, Lily, was old enough to be home alone you’d go out. That meant dinner and drinks. Dinner was fantastic and John didn’t even look at the bill because you two definitely spent more than you should have. Now, you two were on your way to some swanky pub for drinks down the street.

Opening the door for you, you gave John a kiss while he grabbed a handful of your ass. After flicking his cigar to the ground he walked into the pub that seemed to be for a much younger demographic. There were some people your age who were enjoying themselves. The bar was upscale and had to be way too expensive for university students.

Walking in, the bar was located on the right side and stretched for about half way of the long room. The stool cushions were beige leather while the legs were a red wood that matched the shiny bar. The glass cabinets behind the bar were stocked with expensive alcohol with fairy lights twinkling behind them. To the left were half moon booths that stretched the same length of the room that the bar did. The upholstery matched the bar stools and the round tables were shiny red wood. In the back were more round tables with chairs filled with nicely dressed university students.

“How do kids this young afford a place like this.” You whispered to John as he lead you to the bar, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Mummy and daddy have fat wallets.” John joked sarcastically, then laid a kiss to your temple.

You knew John’s distain for spoiled rich kids. It truly rubbed him the wrong way to deal with anyone who had all their accomplishments handed to them. Before you could respond a familiar voice interrupted you two.

“Aren’t you two a little old to be out this late?” Your eldest daughter Evelyn smiled mischievously at you and John.

John’s entire demeanor changed seeing his eldest daughter. He went from the suave flirt he was when alone with you and shifted right back into being a father.

“Guess we’re the ones with fat wallets.” You joked, which had John chuckling.

Evelyn looked so much like you but as she grew into a young woman started to look like no one else but herself. She had her long brown hair pulled back into a white hair clip that allowed her full bangs to frame her face. As usual she wore a rosy Smokey eye with winged eyeliner and a soft pastel pink lipstick. She was dressed in black tights and a grey skirt that came just above mid thigh. Her faded green jumper was loose and showed off her white turtleneck underneath. It was paired nicely with the gold jewelry set she had been gifted by you and John when she started medical school. Your dad, Evelyn’s grandfather, liked to tell you both that you had that girl nextdoor kind of beauty that your mother had.

“Mum, you look right fit in that. Can I borrow it sometime?” Evelyn admired your dress and was gaping like a trout at how good you looked.

She was accustom to seeing you barefoot, in leggings and t-shirts with your hair tied back and a broom in one hand. You took keeping the house clean seriously and the hard work that went into that left you wanting to be comfortable in how you dressed. Evelyn admired that about you because she struggled to keep her one room flat clean and she didn’t know how you managed the entire house with only the help of her father and Lily. You use to get the whole family to help clean and it only took a couple of hours. Now with two men down it had to take a full day.

“You think?” You looked down at the outfit you were once self conscious about and blushed at the compliment.

“Yeah! God, hope I age like you. Bet no one here would guess you’re my mum, more like sister. A Jennifer Aniston, Ava Mendes, Halle Berry, Michelle Yeoh, kind of aging-so jealous!” Evelyn continued, making you giggle lightly at all the compliments. You knew she meant it too because she wasn’t usually a kiss ass to you.

“Oh stop it-“ Evelyn cut in before you could swat her compliments away.

“Sandra Bullock! She’s also aging phenomenally.” The fact Evelyn was now going on about celebrities she thought were aging beautifully was having you cackling laughing.

“Jamie Lee Curtis.” You added.

“Viola Davis!” She half shouted.

“Salma Hayek.” John said while wagging his eyebrows and appreciated the approving nods he received from you and Evelyn.

Evelyn and you continued to name beautiful actresses that you thought were aging like fine wine. It wasn’t lost on you that the actresses John named were some of the sexiest women alive. That was until your daughter brought her attention to John and gave him a judgmental look. You thought she was about to tear him down because of the actresses he was choosing to name. She could be protective when her father was being insensitive.

“And then there’s you, dad. Dressed like a store mannequin. . . Lucky man, with mum being so hot. If you two were single you’d never be able to score her now. Still don’t know how you did in the first place.” She continued and gave John’s outfit a once over and seemed to be unimpressed.

“How about you play nice and I’ll pay for you and your friend’s drinks.” John gave her a hug that she returned.

“No, they’re all a bunch of rich pricks. Just pay for mine and Archie’s.” With a big cheesy smile Evelyn moved to hug you while John nodded with a chuckle and flagged down the bartender.

“I’ll have a pear martini-“ You paused and looked to John.

“Whiskey, neat. Keep it open and put whatever she gets on my tab.” John nodded toward Evelyn and handed over his credit card. He then scanned the room until he saw Archie chatting with a group of friends.

Archie had grown into a handsome young man. No longer that scrawny little boy, Archie stood a little taller than John. Archie left behind the dorky attitude and haircut. It was swapped for a smart looking cropped cut and quiet confidence. He had also made it a habit to hit the gym so he was no longer all limbs but now had an athletic build to him. The two things that never changed were his freckles and thick rimmed rectangular glasses he’d always worn. The lenses were so thick it made it obvious he was blind as a bat without them.

“And him.” John pointed to the unsuspecting young man that remained his daughter’s best friend after all these years.

“He’s paying for some girls-“

“I’ll take care of it.” With that the bartender went on his way to make your drinks.

John had no reservation paying for Archie’s drinks and whichever young lady he was attempting to court. John saw Archie like a son and often gave him the fatherly advice Archie craved. It truly felt at times that you had four children instead of three. This had helped you and John make peace with never having a fourth child like you wanted. Because Archie was enough and fit in with you all seamlessly.

“So how’s studying.” You asked Evelyn who was happy to ignore her friends to chat with you.

Evelyn could become so immersed in her life that she would forget to check in or stop by. She was a person who gave herself to whatever life she was living. When at home, school seemed to be a distant thought and when at school or with friends, it was easy for her to forget about family.

“I would be studying now, if Archie hadn’t dragged me out to have fun.” With a shrug Evelyn took a sip of her mysterious dark drink.

The ice clinked against the glass as she brought it to her lips and took the smallest sip. After a moment you realized it was a dark and stormy and smiled how her alcoholic preferences had improved. She use to drink sweet wines that would leave most feeling sick the next day.

“Drinking that slow, I assume you want to study when you get back?” You asked which had her nodding as if she’d been caught doing something naughty.

It made you think back to when she was little and would give you that same charmingly sweet look. You were the same way at this age, putting your studies above all else; including fun. It made you happy you met John after you were established in your career or you might not have given him the time of day.

“Don’t tell Archie. He’s been on my case about ‘enjoying my twenties.’” Evelyn mocked Archie’s voice and used air quotes.

“You’ve turned out just like your mum.” John chuckled.

“Good, means I’m smart. Now I just have to figure out where I’ll be doing my special training. Archie’s already figured that out so I need to catch up.” Evelyn sighed heavily.

She never liked when someone else had things figured out before her. It was seen as the beginning stages of failure which she refused to ever let happen. Failing was not an option and much like John, Evelyn would fight tooth and nail for the things she wanted. You on the other hand made everything look easy and Evelyn was convinced you never once struggled academically.

“Could I buy you a drink?” A young man a few years older than your daughter approached the group.

He was tall, dark, and handsome. Dressed in dark blue jeans, a burnt orange sweater with a collard shirt underneath. You looked at Evelyn to see how she was about to handle being hit on. Wagging your eyebrows at her to signal the boy was cute. John on the other hand was unamused.

“I’m not interested, but-“

“Oh sorry, love. I was talking to-“ The man motioned to you.

Evelyn scoffed while you laughed audibly in this strangers face and then clamped your hand over your mouth for being so rude. Your reaction looked as if you shoved him with how he physically leaned away. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get hit on by men your own age when out like this but someone close to your son’s age was rare.

“Piss off.” John started to deeply chuckle until he was full on laughing at this man who couldn’t be any older than Jj.

“Sorry-“

“Oh my god! Don’t hit on my mum!” Evelyn loudly exclaimed making people around look over at you.

The man quickly ducked his head and walked away clearly embarrassed. Evelyn was now laughing because she had only done that to embarrass the man.

“That was-“ you spaced out for a second at how utterly ridiculous you found that. It was flattering but still, you would prefer things like that to not happen.

“Look who’s still got it! You’re a lucky man dad.” Evelyn hyped you up.

The three of you carried on and chatted about Evelyn’s studies and when she would come home next. Finding out Jj was coming home tomorrow was enough for Evelyn to agree to come back with you and John after this drink. Then you would take her to her flat and she’d pack a bag and stay the night.

“What are you drinking?” Another stranger came up but this time it was clear he was approaching Evelyn.

He was closer to John’s age which threw you off and immediately had John on guard. The middle aged man was slightly shorter than your husband. He had shaggy black hair that was greying and stubble across his chiseled face. You thought he almost looked like John Snow with how good looking he was.

“I’m not interested. Thanks though.” Evelyn barely looked his way and continued to talk to you about Lily.

“Oh c’mon it’s one drink.” The stranger insisted.

You felt John stiffen beside you at the pushy nature of what he saw as an average looking man. The gentle hold John had on your hip slipped away and bawled into a fist now resting on the bar. It was infuriating enough for John to witness you be approached by a pushy man but when it was his daughter; John became irate.

“Nope, thanks.” Evelyn waved him off.

“Oi, another of what she’s having, on me.” The man called to the bartender.

He waved his hand around Evelyn’s drink, you were focused on her eye roll while John was staring daggers at the man. John tried to step forward but you stoped him by tugging on his belt loop and pushing him back with one hand on his chest. With a sweet smile and big doe eyes that John loved you tried to distract him. Your effort was futile as John would never stand around while anyone made his daughter uncomfortable.

“I said-“ Evelyn was about to confront the man when she felt the hulking presence of her father. It was as if a looming shadow was cast over her and this stranger, causing them both to shrink under it.

“Leave her be. Or I’ll shove that drink, glass and all, so far up your ass you’ll taste it.” John practically growled.

Throwing his hands up in defeat and giving John an annoyed scoff the man stopped. John’s presence was enough to scare off most men and you were thankful it didn’t need to go past John threatening the man. But the man continued to cast dirty looks Evelyn’s way, like she had spat in his face when rejecting him.

“Just waiting for the drink I ordered. Stupid bitch.” He mumbled the last part.

You grabbed John before he could start throwing punches. It was hushed but you were begging him to stop and let it go. That those were just words and nothing truly happened. Evelyn was waving her hand at her father to calm down, annoyed he couldn’t control his temper. It was her biggest gripe with him and she had been complaining about it since she was a child.

“Hope it chokes you.” Evelyn spoke in a sugary sweet way that flustered the man. His nostrils flared and he couldn’t find a good enough retort.

Evelyn’s response calmed John down somewhat along with your quiet pleas for him to not loose his temper. That Evelyn was grown enough to handle herself and she didn’t need John to intervene. John listened to you and felt proud at his daughter’s smart mouth being used toward anyone but you and him. The man stalked off to his friends and went about his evening.

Finally your drinks arrived and Evelyn turned her back to the guy. You and her shared a wide eyed look at John’s reaction. He was radiating aggression that was suffocating. Trying to calm him down, you rubbed his toned back and whispered about how good looking he was. You told him how nice it was going to be to have a full house tomorrow. Everything would be fine and you’d laugh about this in an hour.

“Gross.” Evelyn muttered to you and you both broke out in giggles like school girls.

Evelyn went to take another sip of her drink but stopped when John’s hand was quickly placed over top of it. Turning to look at him John had his gaze set off to the side at the crowd of people.

“What?” Evelyn said defensively. She immediately thought John was saying she was drinking too much.

“Don’t drink that. The ice isn’t floating.” John was off before Evelyn could ask any more questions.

Slack jawed she watched John walk off. His broad shoulders were squared and he looked like he determined to do whatever caught his attention. John’s quick departure made your stomach drop. It was instant how you knew what he meant.

“Fuck.” You whispered.

“What’s going on?” Evelyn looked at you who seemed to understand what her father was saying.

“Your dad’s about to get himself arrested. Give me that.” You quickly took her drink and saw John was right.

Waving over the bartender he nodded to you. This was not how you wanted to spend your date night. Glancing over your shoulder you watched John push through the crowd of people and make his way to the center most booth. There was a group of men John’s age drinking beers and loudly laughing and talking.

“Um- this drinks spiked. Can you pull the security tapes and keep it back there in case-“ before you could finish, shouting broke out.

You didn’t bother looking. It was obvious to you what John was doing, but not to Evelyn who shrieked. Evelyn watched as John grabbed the man who had hit on her. He took him by the shoulders and yanked him out of the booth. To Evelyn’s horror her father dragged the man across the floor toward the door. The man’s friends jumped on John to try and stop him.

John kicked them off with ease and instead of taking this outside, he decided he’d do what he had planned in the bar. With the fury of a thousand men, John started swinging at the man who had somehow staggered in to his feet to try and get away. John was beating the snot out of the guy who had just hit on his daughter and then drugged her drink.

“What do you mean it’s spiked!?” Evelyn was looking between you and her father who had tackled the man to the floor, straddled the guy and threw punch after punch.

People were trying to pull John off but it was no use. John was glued to this guy and ready to pummel him into a pulp. It was his goal to leave this man a bloody mess on the sticky bar floor.

“When ice doesn’t float what does that mean about the liquid?” You looked at Evelyn who stared back absolutely flabbergasted by your question.

“Mum, this isn’t the time for one of your science lessons!” She snapped.

Pointing to her father you glanced over at John now trying to get the crowd of men off of him. They had dragged John off and a few people were helping the other man back to his feet.

“What does it mean?” You asked again calmly and waved off your husband. You couldn’t stop him and no part of you wanted to get involved in his violent tirade.

“Oh my god, you’re just as insane as him! It means the ice’s density is greater than the liquid.” In her frantic state Evelyn kept pushing her bangs back just for them to fall into her face again.

“Was it greater when you first got it?” You asked expectantly.

A man’s shriek caught your attention and you turned to see John chasing after the man who was trying to make a break for the door. John got ahold of him by the collar of his shirt and had him in a headlock a second later. He was trying to choke the guy out. Once again John was yanked off of the man who then tried to hobble toward the door. John dusted himself off, faked that he had calmed down, then once people let go of him was back to charging at the man.

“No- oh fuck. Dad’s gonna kill him!” Evelyn gasped.

“What the hell are you two even saying?” The bartender looked at both of you like you were crazy people.

You found it somewhat comical he didn’t seem concerned with the fight that had broken out. But John was currently being dragged off the guy by security, who were not messing around. They were having trouble keeping a hold of him. John had a firm grip on the guys hair and due to this he was being dragged along with John toward the exit. At one point John got his hands on the someone’s shoe and chucked it at a one of the bouncers and clocked him in the face.

“The ice isn’t floating.” You pointed at the ice sitting at the bottom of the drink.

Ignoring John was easier than fretting over him. He wouldn’t listen to you even if you screamed your head off. There was no use getting yourself worked up. John was going to be John and there was no changing that.

“It was floating earlier, it doesn’t just sink on its own. Means someone put something in it. For example, a roofie would do this or a huge amount of alcohol but we know that’s not possible.” You gestured to the full glass.

“Oh.” Evelyn stared at her drink blankly.

“Oh god! Mum the police are here.” Evelyn had her fingers in her hair and tugged at the roots.

“It’s fine- uhhh. We’ll bail him out, don’t worry.” You waved your hand for Evelyn to stay put but she grabbed you before you ran off.

“How are you not mad at him?” She half shrieked at you. You were her mother who hated violence and got on her, John and Jj’s case for fighting since she could remember.

“No way was I going to be able to convince him to not go after the guy. Plus anyone who tries to roofie a girl has it coming. You just happen to be our little girl so it feels a little better your father’s the one to beat the shit out of the guy.” With a shrug you turned and quickly made your way outside. You had to do that little run because you were in heels but you made it there after pushing through the crowd that had formed.

“You’re both crazy.” Evelyn’s said to herself.

Pushing through the crowd you collided with the door and burst through it. The cool night air tingled your warm skin. It completely sobered you up to see police hanging around. Putting on your sweetest smile you were prepared to do anything to get them to stop handcuffing John. John was standing calmly with his hands behind his back and being patted down.

“Do you have to arrest him? The guy tried to roofie our daughter.” You smiled sweetly as you exited the pub.

It was now your goal to do anything in your power to get John out of trouble, like you had done countless times. A small smirk broke out across John’s face seeing you act all sweet and innocent. It was one of your tactics to distract men and it almost always worked, to John’s dismay. He knew it would be hard to ignore your subtle flirting when you were dressed like the little mix John saw you as.

“Ma’am he beat the man unconscious. Yes, we have to arrest him.” The officer motioned to the man lying on the side walk and bleeding from his face. He was out cold with another officer attending to him.

“He’s military-“ You tried to explain hoping that could get John off the hook.

You batted your eyes which distracted both John and the young officer. It was impossible for John to ignore how pretty you looked when worried for him. The officer faltered for a second and then snapped out of whatever spell you had cast on him when your husband spoke.

“It’s okay, darling.” With a charming, satisfied smirk John gave you a wink.

You never thought he could look so handsome with handcuffs on and a black eye beginning to form. The sleeve of his shirt was torn at the shoulder slightly and the white fabric was smattered in beer and dirt. You and John held a searing hot gaze as he was moved to be put in the back of the cop car.

“Wait! Can I just give him a hug?” You asked before John was loaded into the back. You didn’t wait for a response and made your way toward John.

The one cop who seemed to be in charge found this amusing and nodded to the younger to let you. You gave John a hug around the middle and then a kiss to the lips. Smoothing down the front of his dirty dress shirt your slipped your hand in his back pocket and took out his cigar. John’s face split into a wide toothy grin as you offered it to him and he happily took it between his teeth. Letting out a breathy giggle you lit the cigar for John and left him with one last kiss to the cheek before keeping his lighter.

“So I doesn’t get stolen.” You returned the wink from a moment ago.

The two of you continued to stare deeply into one another’s eyes, absolutely captivated by the other. John found you to be the most divine woman to walk this earth. With your sweet flirty smile and big bright eyes, he was falling in love all over again.

John got into the back of the police car and to you it seemed like neither officer truly wanted to bring him in. They were looking between you two as if you were love sick teens. Only you and John had been married for so long and had built a life together. That kind of awe and wonder of young love never truly left but could come out in moments of adoration like tonight.

“Would’ve done the same thing ma’am. Come and collect him once everything with your daughter is settled. We’ll process him quickly.” The officer patted your back lightly and then went on his way.

“Thank you.” You smiled and went to go back inside.

“God, your parents are so in love.” Evelyn’s friend Isabel sighed in a day dream like state. They were watching the exchange from the window.

“I want someone to love me like that.” Archie drunkenly pointed at you.

“Don’t we all.” Evelyn sighed in mock annoyance.

——————

“My wife here yet?” John called from where he sat in the holding cell.

John had been there for over an hour just twiddling his thumbs. It was him and one other man who was piss drunk, Charlie. The older man who looked down on his luck was sitting on the floor in their corner and babbling on and on about god knows what.

John had realized once he was being processed his watch was gone. It made him laugh to himself that you had slipped it off of him when you grabbed his cigar. You had been practicing slight of hand since the your kids were little. Clearly you were good enough to be able to get John’s watch without him or the officers around noticing.

John was trying to distract himself as he waited for you to bail him out. He was thinking about stopping and getting something sweet on the way home or asking you to make him something. That was when a police officer came in with another man to join John and Charlie. John lit up like it was Christmas morning.

It was the man who drugged Evelyn’s drink.

“What a treat.” John smiled devilishly.

You were standing at the front of the precinct having just bailed your husband out. You kept getting glances from passing male officers that had you regretting your outfit. Tugging at the hem of the dress you wiggled it down a bit and awkwardly waved to an officer who was staring at you longer than you liked.

“So you just bring him out and I wait here?” You asked the man at the desk who sighed loudly.

This was the last thing he felt like explaining, you were certain of that. He seemed completely uninterested and like he would rather be anywhere else. Then he stared at your cleavage and then looked back up at your eyes before answering.

“Where else would you wait for him?” The officer asked condescendingly.

The rude tone had you straightening up and ready to tell him exactly where he could go. You opened your mouth with an insult on the tip of your tongue but you were interrupted.

“AHH~” You perked up at the sound of a man’s high pitched shriek from down the hall behind the desk. The shouting didn’t stop and it sounded like a horror movie scene where someone was screaming and begging for their life.

“BREAK IT UP!” There was more shouting after that and you watched as two more officer went jogging down the hall and took a right to the holding cell out of view.

A few minutes later you watched your husband appear at the end of the hall. He was being escorted by two officers who looked angry while John seemed rather proud of himself. John had the hugest smirk plastered across his face and perked up even more when he caught sight of you. That charming energy came flooding back to John making you feel giddy.

“Take him.” One of the officers shoved John in your direction.

“And if you pull shit like that again you’ll get sued into oblivion!” The officer warned John by putting his finger in your husbands face like he was a petulant child. John put his hands up pretending to be innocent and you could tell by the smug look plastered across his face he felt he had done nothing wrong.

“What’d you do?” You asked as John took your hand and walked toward the door.

He had no intention of waiting around. John wanted to go home and take his beautiful wife to bed after a much needed shower. Then something sweet would be needed before bed and he could call tonight a successful date night.

“Idiot put that prick in the same cell as me. Oh, and nice job getting my watch.” John snickered as he held the door for you.

“I don’t want to know what you did to him. . . But it was probably cruel and over the top. And thanks.” You scoffed while squeezing John’s hand and leading him toward your car.

“You know me so well.” With that said John scooped you up causing you to squeal in delight.

He carried you bridal style over to the car after whispering all the naughty things he was planning to do to you when you got home. Kicking your legs you kissed his neck and egged John on to tell you more. By the time you were getting into the passenger seat John’s calloused hand was under your skirt and groping your ass.

John practically had his tongue down your throat while you made out in the passenger seat with him leaning over you. Your skin felt hot and a warm feeling was flooding your knickers. It was intoxicating having his hand under your skirt and thumb rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves that made you go cross eyed. Finally you pushed him off and told him to take you home so you could have your way with him. You didn’t need to get a talking to for making out in the car park of the police station.

John happily obliged and buckled you up so he could pinch your bottom one last time. The ride home was spent humming along to music and stealing glances that lasted a few seconds too long. Finally, after one long look from John where his icy eyes roamed your body you had enough. Holding on to your desire wasn’t possible, waiting to get home wasn’t an option. You needed him now.

“You should pull over.” You smiled mischievously.

“Hm?” John looked over to you and then his gorgeous blue eyes went wide.

He watched as you slid your pretty red panties off and tossed them in his lap. The two of you were on the same page. As much as rolling around in the sheets was what you wanted, a quickie was what you needed. Then round two could commence as soon as you two got in the shower together.

“Pull over.” You purred.

“Yes ma’am.”

——————

Hours had passed since Evelyn watched her dad get taken away in handcuffs and you told her to take a cab to the house. As soon as she was in said cab, Evelyn was calling Jj to let him know what happened. Jj was cackling and rushing home to see the aftermath.

“Where the hell are they?” Lily was hanging around the kitchen with Evelyn and Jj waiting for you and their father to come home.

Everyone rushed home to hear more about it and get on their father’s case for going to jail. Lily had gone to a friend’s without telling you or John and felt lucky that Jj called and told her everyone was heading home. Only it was taking you a lot longer to get home than the kids originally thought.

To their surprise their grandfathers car pulled up the driveway and out stepped you and John. You looked humiliated and John was trying to hide his smirk while your dad scolded him. It was loud enough Jj, Evelyn, and Lily could hear him shouting but not able to make out what he was saying.

“Why’s papa mad at dad?” Jj scratched his head.

Seeing your dad a few inches from John’s face and tearing him a new one was not how you expected date night to end. The fiery rage in his eyes was directed at you a moment later and you instantly felt like a little kid again. Shrinking under his disapproving eyes you wished the ground would open up and swallow you.

“Jesus, he’s laying into them.” Evelyn was watching you and John with your heads cast down.

You were tapping your bare feet while John had his lips pursed to keep himself from laughing. After a breath you didn’t give your dad a chance to keep going and made your way to the door with your heels in hand. John was right behind you and high tailing it inside.

“What took you so long?” Evelyn asked when you came through the door.

Everyone was looking at you, confused how you became visibly flustered by the question. Forcing a smile you shook your head and opened your mouth. It took you a moment to speak, your mind clearly wandering to something.

“Oh, nothing.” You looked and sounded guilty.

“Nothing.” John nodded in agreement. He seemed a lot more held together than you.

It was obvious to Jj that something happened by how his father was crowding your space and standing a little closer than he usually did. In fact John was practically breathing down your neck as you two shuffled into the kitchen. The siblings were sharing looks while you poured a glass of water and John started the kettle.

Your dad could still be seen on the patio. He was staring out into the yard with his back to the house. All your children had seen him do this before when he was particularly mad at you. It was how he gathered himself before he started screaming his head off.

“Nothing happened?” Jj asked you since he knew he wouldn’t be able to read his father.

“Yup.” You nodded and avoided eye contact.

“They’re liars-“ coming into the house your father was like a tornado ready to tear everything apart.

“Dad!” Your voice was high pitched, a silent plea for him to stop talking.

“Got arrested for humping like teenagers in the back of their car.” Your dad barked at you.

John finally broke and started laughing uncontrollably. He had to hold on to the sink to keep himself steady. This did not amuse your father and he was gearing up to turn on John next. Getting a call from his grown daughter who needed to be bailed out along with her husband sent your dad into a tail spin. He spent the entire ride from the police station shouting at you and berating John.

“OH MY GOD!” Evelyn shrieked.

“That’s disgusting!” Jj threw his hands up, looking at you as if you lost your mind.

“Woah. . . WAIT! Mum you got arrested!?” Lily went from unimpressed to shocked.

This was not how your children saw you or John. Yes, they knew you two were flirty with each other. It was hard to ignore the passing glances and how you both playfully patted the other on the bum. But doing something like hooking up in the back of your car was unimaginable to them.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You were burning with embarrassment.

John’s uncontrollable laughter wasn’t helping you deal with the looks of disgust your two oldest had etched across their faces. Lily on the other hand didn’t seem interested in the conversation.

“We sit back there!” Jj practically yelled.

“And you’ve napped in our bed. What’s the difference?” John was just catching his breath.

His comment had Jj looking mortified and then John’s laughter kicked back up again at bursting his son’s bubble.

“Don’t let her fool you she’s been arrested before.” Your dad laughed loudly.

This was it, his punishment. It would be to air out your dirty laundry. You were an adult now, he couldn’t exactly ground you but maybe embarrassing you would keep you from acting so foolish again.

“Dad!” You hissed.

“WHAT!?” Your children shouted in your direction.

“Darling, why’ve you never told me about your criminal history?” John was belly laughing, unable to catch his breath and now leaning over the counter in his fit of hysterics. He knew everything about you, he was only teasing.

“You two can never get mad at us for anything, ever again.” Evelyn told you both.

“That’s not all!” Your dad was grinning like an idiot, looking proud of himself.

“I’ll kick your ass if you say another word!” You half shouted at your dad.

“Kick my ass?” He looked amused by the threat.

“Well. No. I’ll have John do it.” Meekly you pointed to John with your thumb.

Your dad and John shared a look. John shrugged and jokingly put his fists up. This had your dad chuckling deeply and shaking his head.

“Fine, but your mums no saint.” Your dad told your children who burst into endless questions.

“I know.” John grinned devilishly at you.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie @aliceinwonderland-5678 @blue096 @rip-cod-brainrot @saturnghost93 @somehopeatlast @thepowers-kat-be @tenko-nii @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @thraxpatty @mnsnp @faeriedust17 @livstablers @luvr4miya @phoenixhalliwell @maissalov3u @ellerdod @tizzywoowoo @himboelover @yehsehneeah @r0vena

[theballadofharkness]

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: The Kittening, Karma’s a Witch

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 putting 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. But now, the tables have turned and it is time for you to feel the stab of jealousy.

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: smut warning! Not very explicit but enough to warrant a warning, part 4 will be more explicit however xo

A/N: Apologies for the late update my loves, work has been a lot but I’ve been able to write lots of things I’m excited to publish coming soon🪻💜

The house was quiet when you stepped inside. Warm, golden sunlight spilled through the windows, painting long afternoon shadows across the floorboards. The air smelled faintly of chamomile, old paper, and something sweet, maybe the last of the honey cake you’d left cooling on the counter that morning. The silence was peaceful, not empty. The kind of stillness that whispered something good was happening.

You toed off your boots and walked further into the house, your arms full of fresh sage bundles from the herb shop, and something already bubbling with excitement in your chest. You’d only been out a few hours running errands, a quiet walk through the market, a brief stop to pick up more beeswax candles. But you’d been thinking of them the whole time.

Agatha and Salem.

The unlikeliest duo. The witch and the gremlin. Oil and water. Fire and… small, attention seeking furball.

You rounded the corner into the living room, adjusting your bundles of herbs and stopped cold. There she was. There they were.

Agatha lounged across the velvet sofa like a queen of chaos at rest. Her hair was down, curling soft over her shoulders. Her robe was half-open, revealing long legs stretched across the cushions and one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Her other hand was… occupied.

Gently. Absentmindedly. Affectionately stroking the soft black fluff curled up on her stomach. Salem. He was purring, deep and content and impossibly smug.

A half-finished cup of tea rested on the side table. The television played some old black-and-white film, the dialogue low and hazy, but Agatha wasn’t really watching. She was just… petting him. Gazing down at him with the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

“Look at my two babies,” you say dreamily, setting your cup down and slipping into the room. “I never thought this day would come.”

Agatha lifts her gaze with that slow, amused smirk. “Mhm. It’s disgusting, isn’t it?”

But the way she scratches just under Salem’s chin like she’s been doing it her whole life? The way he stretches out, blissed beyond measure in her lap?

Yeah. She’s in deep.

You stepped closer, a bright grin already spreading across your face. “You’re cuddling.”

“I am not,” she said, perfectly deadpan.

“You are!”

“I am not, darling.”

You practically floated across the room, dropping the sage onto the chair as you came to kneel by the sofa. You looked up at her, positively glowing, your fingers clasped under your chin.

“He’s sleeping on you,” you breathed. “That’s not tolerating. That’s bonding.”

Agatha gave a low, dismissive scoff and returned her attention to the TV though, her hand never stopped stroking between Salem’s tiny ears. “He got tired of attacking the curtains and climbed on top of me. I was merely… trapped.”

You bit your lip to keep from squealing. “Trapped,” you repeated. “By a kitten.”

“He has claws.”

“So do you,” you giggled.

She looked at you from the corner of her eye, lips twitching. “He’s manipulative.”

“He’s a cat.”

“He bit me.”

You reached up to stroke her calf and tilted your head. “You let him stay.”

She sniffed, lifting her chin. “I didn’t want to disrupt his nap. He’s annoying when he’s cranky.”

You blinked slowly. “Agatha.”

“What.”

“You loooove him.”

“I tolerate him.”

You climbed onto the edge of the sofa, sitting beside her folded legs, close enough to see the way her fingertips slowed when they passed over the soft curve of Salem’s back. Close enough to hear the softness in her voice, even when she tried to sound exasperated.

“No,” you said sweetly, leaning in close. “You love him.”

Agatha gave you a look. The kind she usually reserved for low-level demons and burnt pastries. “I do not.”

You booped her nose with your fingertip.

“You do.”

She caught your wrist lazily, holding it there as she raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You beamed. “I know. And now you love him, too.”

Salem stretched in her lap like a smug little prince, tail flicking as if to emphasize the point. Agatha narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re a tiny warlock in disguise. I can feel it.”

Salem yawned.

Agatha sighed.

You curled up beside her, your head resting on her shoulder, gaze dropping to her hand as it resumed its gentle rhythm along the kitten’s back.

“Look at my little family,” you whispered, utterly content. “My wife. My son.”

“I’m going to hex your tea,” Agatha muttered.

But she didn’t stop petting him.

Not for a second.

~

The kettle whistled low and steady, steam curling into the sunlit kitchen like a blessing. You reached for the handle with careful fingers, your other hand already holding your favorite chipped mug, the one Agatha pretended to hate but never threw away. You’d lined up fresh herbs from your morning foraging, the scent of wild mint and chamomile mingling in the air, grounding, familiar.

You were barefoot on the warm floorboards, the hem of Agatha’s shirt brushing just above your thighs. It hung low, wide at the neck, sleeves rolled sloppily up your arms. One of the buttons was missing. You liked it that way. It felt lived in, hers and now yours.

The morning light made you glow, all soft skin and mussed hair, eyes heavy from sleep, mouth still kiss-bruised from last night. Your hips swayed faintly as you stirred honey into the tea, moving to some quiet rhythm in your head. The music of a slow, safe morning.

You were waiting.

Any second now and you’d feel her behind you.

Agatha always came into the kitchen like a spell: silent, magnetic, unavoidable. She’d slip her arms around your waist, press her face into your hair, hum against your neck. Sometimes she’d call you her darling, sometimes her little witch, sometimes when her voice was warm and low and still thick with sleep she’d just murmur, “There’s my baby.”

You knew it was coming. As soon as you felt her enter the room the air shifted. You straightened a little, smiling to yourself as you finished stirring your tea, spine already arching the tiniest bit, just enough to make it easier for her to wrap around you. You bit your lip. Waited.

Then you heard it, “there’s my baby.”

A whisper. A purr. That voice.

Your cheeks flushed instantly. You smiled, dreamy and shy, your breath catching. Your eyes fluttered closed, anticipation rushing through you like a little wave. And then…

Nothing.

No arms.

No warmth.

No kiss to the back of your neck.

You blinked, turning slightly in confusion. And then you saw her. Not behind you, but across the room, holding Salem. Cradling him against her chest, one hand under his little bottom, the other stroking along his tiny head. He was purring like a chainsaw, all smug and settled. Agatha was smiling down at him like he was the moon and stars wrapped in fur.

You stared.

Agatha didn’t even look up. “You’re up early, little monster,” she murmured, brushing her nose against Salem’s head. “Did you come looking for your mama?”

Salem sneezed.

Agatha laughed.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. Your heart stuttered a little in your chest.

She hadn’t even seen you.

You stood there in her shirt, bare-legged, sleepy and soft and so ready to melt into her touch, and she was across the kitchen, nuzzling the cat.

You cleared your throat lightly. “Good morning,” you offered, voice gentler than you meant.

Agatha looked up absently. “Mmm, morning,” she said, distracted. “He was at the foot of the bed when I woke up. I think he missed me.”

You wrapped your fingers tighter around the mug, forcing a smile. “Yeah. He… does that.”

You turned back to the counter and took a sip of your tea, letting the steam hide your expression. You kept your back to her. You weren’t even sure why. Maybe because you didn’t want her to see the flicker of hurt you couldn’t quite blink away.

She used to say you were the one who looked the most beautiful thing in the morning. She used to whisper, ‘There’s my baby’ and mean you. You stirred your tea again, even though it didn’t need it. Behind you, she was still cooing.

You tuned her out. Tried to, anyway. Tried not to think about the way your skin suddenly felt cooler without her touch. The way your thighs shifted uncomfortably, suddenly self-conscious. The way you felt like you’d just stepped outside of your own moment.

You didn’t say anything else that morning.

You finished your tea. Watered the kitchen plants. Cleaned up the tea leaves that always stuck to the counter. Agatha eventually let Salem down and wandered off to check her spellwork room, humming to herself.

She kissed your cheek absently as she passed.

You leaned into it without thinking, but the moment had already passed. And something in your chest felt… quieter.

Not hurt. Not yet.

Just a little hollow.

A little missed.

~

The living room glowed with late afternoon light, warm and drowsy, the kind that made everything feel a little slower, a little softer. The fire in the hearth crackled gently. The house was quiet. Peaceful.

You padded in from the hallway, still in that same oversized shirt of Agatha’s, the sleeves too long, hem brushing the backs of your thighs, your hair loose and your cheeks pink from your post-nap haze. You were the picture of sleepy domestic bliss, glowing like something out of a dream.

And you were so ready to curl up with your wife. All day, you’d been craving it. The press of her side. The smell of her perfume. The soft scrape of her fingers absentmindedly petting your hair while she read, the occasional kiss to your temple without even looking up from her book. You’d imagined it as you drifted off earlier, your head on her lap, her voice murmuring whatever she was reading, her hand on your back.

You turned the corner, smiling already, then stopped, your smile faltering.

Agatha was stretched out along the velvet sofa, one leg tucked under her, robe loose around her shoulders. A book hovered in front of her, turning its own pages with a flick of silent spellwork. Her eyes were scanning lazily over the text, sharp and serene. Then there was Salem, sprawled across her lap like he paid rent.

Flat on his back, little paws twitching, tail flicking contentedly, his head tucked right under her hand. And her hand, the hand that should’ve been stroking your hair, was rhythmically grazing down his fuzzy little belly as she read.

You blinked, tilting your head with a soft frown like a confused puppy. You were quiet at first. Just watching. And then, before you even realized it, your lips pushed into the softest pout.

You hovered at the edge of the room, hands tucked into the sleeves of your shirt, voice small. “I was gonna sit with you…”

Agatha didn’t even look up from her book. “There’s another chair.”

You blinked. “But… I always sit with you.”

She turned the page.

Salem snored. Snored like he wasn’t the root of all your current problems. You stared at them, heart dropping a little, and took a tentative step forward. “He’s in my spot.”

Agatha’s lips twitched, but she kept her face perfectly neutral. “He was here first, darling.”

You pouted harder.

She finally looked over at you, and the moment she saw your face, your big glossy eyes and that little furrow in your brow, she nearly burst into flames.

Because oh.

Oh, the payoff.

This was what she’d looked like, wasn’t it? All those weeks ago when you used to cradle that kitten to your chest like he was made of stars and forget your wife even existed? When she watched you kiss his tiny ears and murmur sweet nothings while she sat there, ignored, seething in silence?

This was karma.

You didn’t even mean to make a scene.

But the moment Salem blinked up at you from Agatha’s lap, his smug little fuzzy body all curled up where you were supposed to be, something in you snapped.

It was soft. Quiet. But unmistakable.

The need. The ache. The burn to be there instead.

You scooped him off her lap with a quiet “excuse me,” as if you weren’t throwing a fit, and deposited him on the rug like a polite exorcism. He made a mildly offended chirp as he landed, but you ignored it.

You were already climbing onto the sofa.

Onto her. Into your rightful place.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, delight curling at the corners of her mouth as you climbed into her lap. Not sat beside her, not nestled gently. You straddled her, your thighs sliding over hers, that big shirt slipping up high enough to make her very aware you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

She set her book down, slowly. “Well, hello.”

You didn’t answer, you just kissed her. Hot. Messy. Hungry.

Your mouth found hers like you were making up for every second you’d been replaced- every coo, every scratch behind Salem’s ears, every time she’d kissed his head instead of yours.

Your hands slipped into her hair, nails grazing her scalp, and your hips rocked, against her thigh.

Agatha stifled a groan.

You were supposed to be the sweet one. The floaty, dreamy, gentle little thing who whispered love spells into tea and painted sigils in flower petals. But this? This was feral. And all for her.

She kissed you back once, slow and filthy, before pulling back just enough to look at you.

“Jealous much?” she asked, voice smug, eyes shining.

You scowled, flushed and breathless. “He was in my spot.”

“I told you he was comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” you huffed, shifting your hips again, deliberately. Her thigh slid between your legs, and your breath hitched.

Agatha’s fingers curled around your hips. “Oh, honey,” she said, low and dark and thrilled. “You’re more than comfortable.”

You didn’t answer. You just dragged your mouth down her jaw, to her throat, kissing and sucking like you were trying to leave proof of your possession. Her skin flushed pink. Her pulse jumped.

Your thighs trembled as you rocked, slow and needy, against the muscle of her leg. That thin, teasing friction.

Agatha couldn’t stop the smirk blooming on her face. This is gold, she thought.

Actual gold.

Because here you were, her pouty, jealous little wife, writhing in her lap, desperate to remind her who she belonged to. Her voice was whiny, your movements clumsy with need, and Agatha had never been more delighted in her life.

She leaned back against the sofa, completely relaxed, letting you take what you needed.

“You gonna make yourself come like this?” she asked, cocking her head as you whimpered into her throat. “Grinding on Mommy’s thigh like a needy little thing?”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and dazed and so close to snapping.

“Thought so,” she murmured.

And then, without warning… Mrrrow.

You both looked down.

Salem, now sprawled on the rug, was pawing at Agatha’s robe, trying to climb up again.

Agatha blinked. Then looked up at you, mischief sparking. “Oh dear,” she drawled. “I think someone wants his spot back.”

You froze.

Still in her lap. Still flushed. Still soaking wet against her leg. And Agatha was grinning.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare pick him up.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

But in her head? She was already plotting. Already thinking how the tables have turned, she thought smugly, petting her jealous little wife while the kitten sulked on the floor. She’d give it a few more days. Just enough to really push your buttons.

Then maybe… just maybe… she’d let you have your lap privileges back.

Maybe.

She pressed a kiss to your temple and let her hands wander low on your back.

“I have to say,” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “jealousy looks very good on you.”

~

You were stirring the roasted root vegetables when the clock struck seven.

Not that you were counting.

But it had been hours since you last saw Agatha. You’d washed the sheets, hung the laundry, wiped down the altar, organized the herbs, dusted the ceiling corners (the absolute worst), and made dinner from scratch.

All in one of her old shirts. No pants. Hair up in a scarf. Dreamy and flushed from the days chores, humming softly to yourself. You even left her a note on the kitchen chalkboard:

“Dinner at 6:30. Hope your spellwork goes well, baby!”

Nothing.

Now it was seven, and the food was getting cold, and the only sound in the house was the faint echo of Salem purring somewhere in the walls, like the little shadow he was. You set the wooden spoon down, wiped your hands on your apron, and called softly down the hallway:

“Agatha? Dinner!”

No reply.

You raised your voice a little. “Aggie!”

Still nothing.

You sighed, a tiny line forming between your brows. You could feel the faint thrum of magic coming from the basement. Of course. That’s where she was.

You trudged down the spiral stairs, bare feet cool against the stone, your mood dropping with every step. The warm light of the kitchen faded behind you, replaced by flickering candlelight and the earthy scent of sage and wax and chalk.

“Agatha,” you tried again as you reached the bottom. “Dinner is-”

You stopped, blinking rapidly, your mouth dropping open in horror. Because there she was, sitting at her coven table, surrounded by open spell books and incense smoke, head bent in deep concentration over…

A cat collar.

Not just any collar. Velvet. Black, of course. Embroidered with protective runes in silver thread, a small crescent moon charm floating gently above it as she murmured under her breath. Gemstones, real ones, set into the band. Onyx. Amethyst. A tiny protection crystal that looked freshly cut.

Salem sat smugly on the table beside her, tail wrapped neatly around his paws like he knew what was happening.

You stood in stunned silence for a moment before saying flatly, “are you serious?”

Agatha didn’t even look up. “Hm?”

“Are you serious?”

Her fingers traced another rune. “You’ll have to be more specific, darling.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re telling me I’ve spent the entire day cleaning the house alone, our house, doing your laundry, folding your silk robes, making your favorite dinner, and the reason you didn’t answer me for three hours is because you’re… bedazzling a protection collar for the cat?”

Agatha finally glanced up.

And she smiled. Slow. Wicked. Satisfied.

You blinked. “I- wha- You never even enchanted my wedding ring.”

She paused. “If you wanted me to enchant your jewelry, love,” she purred, “you only had to ask.”

You stared at her. “You never enchanted my wedding ring, Agatha. But the cat gets an enchanted collar.”

She looked very pleased with herself now. “Well. You are more powerful than the average kitten.”

You gaped. Like actually gaped. You could feel your mouth opening and closing like a fish and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Agatha leaned her chin in her hand, elbow on the table, gaze dragging down the length of you in her old shirt and apron, flushed and barefoot from doing all the domestic chores while she magicked her tiny hellbeast a couture-level collar.

“Oh, honey,” she said sweetly. “You’re not jealous of a cat, are you?”

You crossed your arms. “I’m not.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No!”

She tapped a finger to her lip. “Because it feels like you are.”

“I’m not!” you squeaked, trying not to blush as your foot nudged a stray gemstone across the floor. “It’s just- it’s dinner! And I thought you’d want to, y’know, eat it. With your wife.”

Agatha clicked her tongue. “I will. Once I finish this.”

You sniffed. Tried not to pout. Failed.

“You could have at least helped me fold the sheets,” you mumbled, hugging your arms tighter around your chest. “Or set the table. Or come check on me. I- ”

You bit your lip, stopping yourself before you sounded too hysterical.

Agatha saw it.

Saw the way your voice cracked just a little. Saw the way you stood there, glowing with magic and effort and sweat and devotion, trying so hard not to look like a kicked puppy.

And oh, she thrived.

She stood slowly, crossing the room in that silk-robe-and-witchcraft way that made her look like temptation wrapped in smoke. She stopped just in front of you, close enough to touch.

“You’re adorable when you’re sulking,” she said, voice low.

“I’m not sulking.”

“You are. You’re pouting. Look at that little face.”

You tried to look away.

She caught your chin and turned you back to her with one finger, smiling like the devil.

“I could enchant your ring, you know,” she murmured, thumb brushing the bare gold band. “Warding, protection, a little glamour charm…”

You swallowed.

“Then why haven’t you?”

Agatha tilted her head, grinning. “Because you weren’t jealous enough yet.”

You stared.

She winked.

And that was when you realized that she wanted this. She was doing this on purpose. “Oh my god,” you whispered. “You’re tormenting me.”

She leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. “Karma’s a witch, baby.”

~

You woke to the sound of a soft, steady purr and the weight of absence.

At first, you weren’t sure what felt off. The bed was warm. The morning light poured in through the gauzy curtains like syrup. Your body still buzzed faintly from dreams you couldn’t quite remember. And yet…

You turned your head.

And saw it.

Agatha, beautiful and radiant even in her sleep, lay curled on her side. Her hair fell in a loose wave across the pillow, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, lips parted in that soft, unconscious pout she never let you tease her for. She looked peaceful. She looked perfect.

But you weren’t what she was holding.

It was Salem.

The little void beast had wedged himself between her breasts like a smug satin pillow, his paws tucked up near her collarbone, his purring deafening in the quiet room. Agatha’s arm was slung protectively around him, her fingers curled lightly against his side. You blinked. Your chest went tight. It wasn’t fair, you told yourself. It was just a cat. He was warm. He was cuddly. He didn’t mean anything by it. And Agatha, she was yours. You knew that.

But something about the picture in front of you- your wife, your bed, your place taken, cut you more than you wanted to admit. And the worst part? She looked so content.

You laid there a moment longer, stomach twisting, before quietly slipping out of bed. You didn’t want to disturb her. You didn’t want her to see your face.

You made breakfast the way you always did. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Your hair was still tousled from sleep, tied back with one of Agatha’s silk ribbons. You wore her sweater, sleeves falling over your hands, bare legs just peeking out beneath the hem. You looked soft. Dreamy. The kind of girl a wife should wrap her arms around and kiss immediately.

But she didn’t come down right away.

And when she did?

She brought the cat.

Salem rode on her shoulder like a little prince, tail flicking as she walked into the kitchen with a smirk on her lips.

You were already plating up eggs and herbs, pouring tea into her favorite mug. “Morning,” you said, voice gentle.

Agatha grinned. “Mmm. It is now.”

You blushed automatically. She always had that effect.

You turned back to your herbs, distracted by the flicker of pride when she stepped behind you and wrapped her arms loosely around your waist.

And for just a second everything felt okay. That was until she leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “Salem kept me warm all night.”

Your stomach dropped. You forced a smile. “Oh?”

Agatha hummed, hands ghosting beneath your sweater, warm against your waist. “He’s so soft. And clingy. Just like someone else I know.”

You tried to laugh. Operative word: Tried. But it didn’t reach your eyes. Her hands slid lower, her mouth moving to your neck, kissing lightly. “I was thinking…” she murmured against your skin. “Maybe we don’t leave the bedroom today.”

You stiffened.

Her hips pressed against your backside, slow and deliberate. “Just you. Me. My fingers. That pretty little moan you make when I bite your thighs.”

Your knees nearly buckled. But you didn’t let her see it. Instead, you turned in her arms, blinking up at her with wide, innocent eyes as your mind began to scheme. “I’ve got plans.”

Agatha stilled. “You… what?”

You smiled sweetly. Tilted your head. “I’m meeting Jen.”

She blinked. “Jennifer?”

You nodded. “Mhm. Just some girly stuff. Little catch-up. Maybe some shopping.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do you make plans without telling me?”

You giggled, light and fluttery, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Since today.”

Then you slipped from her arms, humming softly, walking out of the kitchen with a gentle sway of your hips.

She stared after you, stunned.

And you? You grabbed your phone the second you rounded the corner, typing fast.

Text to: Jennifer Kale

<Y/N: hey are you free today? i need help xx>

Three dots appeared instantly.

<Jennifer Kale: sure babe. say less. coffee shop in the square? 30 mins?

<Jennifer Kale: wear something cute. Let’s bring the chaos. xx>

You smiled down at your screen. Soft. Serene. And absolutely scheming.

~

The bell above the café door jingled softly as you stepped inside, a swirl of warm air and cinnamon greeting you like a hug.

The place was cozy and bright, full of velvet chairs, mismatched tables, and the rich smell of espresso and clove. A jazz record played quietly in the corner, and sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting the floor in patterns of green and blue.

Jennifer Kale was already there.

She was slouched in the corner booth like a rockstar who’d just hexed someone’s boyfriend, sunglasses perched on top of her head, silver rings stacked on every finger. A half-drunk matcha latte sat in front of her. She was scrolling her phone like she owned the place.

She looked up when she saw you and her expression immediately softened. “Oh, babe.”

You smiled weakly and shuffled over, sweater sleeves too long, cheeks pink from the wind. You slid into the seat across from her and wrapped your hands around your tea like it could hold you together.

Jen gave you exactly three seconds of silence before going, “Okay. Spill. What did she do?”

You sighed. “It’s so stupid. I know it’s stupid.”

“Nope. We don’t do that here. This is a safe space for petty gay pain.”

You hesitated, biting your lip.

Then: “She’s in love with the cat.”

Jen blinked.

You took a shaky breath. “Okay, not in love, but like. Obsessed. And smug about it. And she knows I’m jealous, and she’s doing it on purpose now. She enchanted him a custom collar and ignored me all day and then had the nerve to say he kept her warm all night.”

Jen blinked again. “Are you telling me she replaced you with a kitten in bed?”

“Yes!”

Jen leaned back. “That’s actually so messed up I’m kind of impressed.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I know it sounds insane, but it’s been weeks. She pets him constantly. She baby-talks him. She used to do that to me. And I just… I miss her.”

Jen lowered her sunglasses. “You mean you miss her touching you like you’re the only one in the world?”

You looked up, eyes round. “Yes.”

Jen leaned forward, grinning now. “Oh honey. You’ve come to the right person.”

You blinked. “I don’t even know what I’m doing. I’ve never schemed against her before. She’s the one who schemes. I’m the one who makes her tea and blushes when she calls me pretty.”

Jen smirked. “Not today, you’re not.”

You blinked.

She leaned in like she was letting you in on a sacred secret. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna buy you the hottest, most expensive lingerie in this entire godforsaken realm.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because,” she said, slow and smug, “you’re gonna seduce her. Properly.”

You blushed so hard you nearly fainted. “But- but she touches me all the time? Like… nearly every day?”

Jen froze. “Oh, damn. Okay, girl.”

You looked away, flustered. “That’s not the problem.”

“No, babe. I get it. This isn’t about sex. This is about power. You’re gonna walk into that bedroom in lace and silk and ruin her.”

You blinked. “Ruin her?”

“Emotionally. Spiritually. Mentally. She will not remember her own name, let alone the cat.”

You clutched your tea like a lifeline. “But what if she just… keeps playing the game? What if this doesn’t work?”

Jen smirked, full sorceress mode now. “Oh, honey. The right lingerie will make her forget that cat ever existed.”

You stared at her, quiet.

Then whispered:

“…What kind of lingerie are we talking?”

Jen slammed her latte down and stood, already pulling you to your feet.

“French.”

~

The little bell above the boutique door jingled as you walked in, and already, you wanted to bolt.

It was too much.

All low lighting and sultry music, velvet curtains and glass shelves lined with lingerie that looked like it had been spun from moonlight and temptation. Lace in every shade. Silk that caught the light like water. Mannequins dressed in things you weren’t sure even counted as clothing.

You hesitated by the door, clutching the sleeves of your sweater in your fists.

Jen turned back and looked at you, grinning. “You coming in, or are you gonna combust from modesty?”

You gave her a withering little smile, cheeks pink. “I’ve just never been in a place like this.”

“Mm. Baby’s first lingerie mission.” Jen looped her arm through yours, pulling you gently deeper into the shop. “You’re gonna love it. Promise.”

You weren’t so sure.

Everything was so delicate. So bold. You passed a rack of thigh harnesses and nearly squeaked out loud.

“I don’t think I’m made for this,” you whispered.

Jen glanced at you sideways. “You literally do sex magic and make love potions in your sleep.”

“That’s different! That’s sweet! That’s spiritual!”

Jen plucked a corset from a rack and wiggled it in your face. “And this is retribution.”

You stared at the corset like it might bite you.

Jen rolled her eyes fondly and tossed it over her arm with a growing pile of silks. “Let’s find something softer. Something that’ll break her heart before it ruins her life.”

You trailed after her through the store, past racks of lace and satin and embroidered spellwork, overwhelmed and blinking.

Every time she held something up, you gave the same unsure response.

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“Too sheer?”

“I don’t… even know how that goes on.”

“Okay, that one’s… just string.”

Jen didn’t slow down.

She moved with intention, pulling set after set from their hangers. Champagne silk. Emerald mesh. Creamy lace embroidered with tiny stars. She handed them off to you one by one, loading your arms like she was dressing a goddess for battle.

You kept glancing down at the pieces in your hands like they’d disappear if you looked too long.

“You sure this isn’t overkill?” you murmured as you followed her to the dressing rooms.

Jen paused. “Do you want her to keep spending all her time using the laser pointer to play with the cat, all the while ignoring your breasts?”

You winced.

Fair.

She shoved you into the dressing room with a wink. “Go. Pick your poison.”

You closed the curtain behind you, hands shaking slightly.

It was quiet in the little space with just the noise of your breath, the thrum of your pulse, and the soft rustle of silk being heard as you slowly undressed. You slipped the first set on, the champagne-colored one Jen had picked, and stared at yourself in the mirror.

It barely covered you. Sheer cups. Petal-soft lace. Straps that curved along your hips and dipped low across your chest. You looked like a dream. A nymph. A creature made for ruin.

But you didn’t feel like one.

You fidgeted.

Adjusted the straps. Smoothed the lace.

Something inside you wavered. What if this doesn’t work? What if Agatha just laughs? Or smirks, all smug, and kisses your forehead like you’re trying too hard?

You stared at your reflection, small and flushed and fragile. Your throat tightened. “Jen?” you called softly.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

There was a pause. Then, calm as anything, “You need fuel?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Fuel. Motivation. That edge.”

Before you could answer, Jen’s hand slid through the curtain holding your phone. “Look,” she said.

You hesitated before you took it. And your breath caught as you saw the most recent text from Agatha.

<Agatha💜: look who’s keeping me warm again today>

She had attached a picture of Salem curled against her chest. Her fingers stroking his tiny head.

<Agatha💜: he’s so clingy. reminds me of someone>

There was a video attached this time, Salem licking her jaw, purring, as Agatha laughed.

Your eyes widened as she sent yet another picture, intended to cause maximum damage to your already bruised ego. Agatha, tousled and flushed from sleep, lips slightly parted, wrapped in a silk robe, with Salem pressed against her chest like he belonged there.

<Agatha💜: i love having all this time alone with this handsome boy>

Your stomach twisted as something in your chest snapped. You looked up at yourself in the mirror again. And suddenly you didn’t see someone soft. Or unsure. Or trying too hard. You saw her wife. The one Agatha belongs to.

Your chin lifted, your hands stopped fidgeting as you turned back the curtain.

Jen looked up from her seat and grinned. “There she is,” she said, smug.

You stepped out, all flushed and lace and vengeance. “Let’s do this.”

~

By the time you got home, the sun had slipped below the horizon and the sky had melted into a deep plum. The house glowed from within, candlelight flickering against the windows, shadows dancing along the walls.

You stepped inside, calm and composed, the paper boutique bag tucked under your arm like it wasn’t full of sin and lace.

Agatha didn’t look up.

She was sprawled on the velvet sofa, a wine glass balanced loosely in her hand, Salem curled across her thighs like a furry little king. One of her hands was stroking lazily along his back, her fingers dancing in long, luxurious lines through his fur. Her silk robe had fallen open just enough to suggest deliberate temptation.

He was purring like thunder.

“Oh, there she is,” Agatha drawled, still not looking at you. “The little runaway witch.”

You hung up your coat carefully, placing the bag beneath the entryway bench with quiet precision. “Hi.”

Agatha finally looked over. Her eyes were sharp. Glinting. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be out this late.”

You shrugged. “Had some errands.”

“Mm. With Jennifer, I assume?”

You smiled faintly. “She wanted to check in on her store.”

Agatha sipped her wine. “Did she tell you to come home and behave yourself? Because I’ve already claimed Salem for the night. No room in my lap for clingy little witches.”

You gave her the softest smile and said nothing.

It was infuriating. Agatha narrowed her eyes slightly, tilting her head. “You’re quiet.”

“Just tired,” you said, drifting into the kitchen to start the kettle. “Long day.”

“Didn’t look like a long day in those photos Jen posted online.”

You froze, just for a heartbeat. So she’d been watching.

You turned slowly and met her eyes across the room. “Stalking me?”

She smirked. “Monitoring. For signs of mischief.”

You smiled sweetly. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Agatha set her wine glass down and shifted on the sofa, pressing her cheek to Salem’s tiny head, her hand sliding along his spine. “I know where you’ll end up. Right here. Begging for attention. Like always.”

You gave a soft laugh, walking to the kitchen to make a calming cup of tea before you were going to enact phase 1: the seduction. The kettle whistled. You poured the tea, unbothered.

“I made lavender chamomile,” you said, voice light. “Want a cup?”

She watched you closely. “Sure. Bring it here.”

You walked over and set the cup on the side table beside her.

She didn’t thank you. Instead, she took a slow sip, eyes never leaving yours.

Salem stretched on her lap, letting out a dramatic little sigh.

Agatha cooed. “Poor baby’s so exhausted from a long day of being adored. Isn’t that right, my sweet little prince?”

You sat down in the armchair across from her and took a slow sip of your own tea, not blinking.

She kept stroking Salem.

You didn’t flinch. Not when she kissed his little head. Not when she murmured, “Such a good boy.” Not even when she flicked her eyes toward you and said, “You used to be this good. What happened?”

You set your mug down, crossing one leg over the other and smiled. “I guess I grew up.”

Agatha’s eyes sparked dangerously.

But you didn’t say anything else. You sat there calmly, sipping your tea, letting the silence stretch between you like silk being pulled taut.

She shifted again. “You’re not going to come sit with me?”

“Not right now.”

“Not feeling needy anymore?”

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re very smug for someone being replaced by a now reformed demon cat.”

You tilted your head. “He’s cute.”

“That’s all you’ve got?”

You shrugged. “He’s very charming.”

Agatha’s lips twitched. She didn’t say anything else. Just sipped her tea.

The fire crackled between you.

Dinner was quiet.

You let her talk. About old spells. About chaos magic theory. About a potion one of the newer coven witches had messed up that morning. She was brilliant, glowing with cleverness, gesturing with her wine glass, her voice smooth and practiced.

You let her charm the air.

And you gave her nothing. Not your usual sparkles of laughter. Not the flustered cheeks she’d come to expect. You listened. Nodded. Smiled.

But you didn’t bite. Not once. Not when Salem hopped into her lap mid-meal and she groaned, “He just loves me more,” you only nodded and said, “Maybe.”

Not when she stretched and said, “I might just sleep with him wrapped around my chest again,” you simply said, “As long as he doesn’t snore.”

Agatha’s smile twitched as she waited for the jealousy. For the pout. But you had replaced it with patience. Because tonight was already yours.

When she went upstairs, you followed a few minutes later, your bag tucked beneath your arm.

Agatha was already in bed when you walked in. Her robe had slipped lower. Her thigh was bare. The sheets a mess around her legs.

She glanced up. “There’s my girl. Finally done sulking?”

You smiled. “Just going to shower.”

“Don’t be long,” she murmured. “I’ve got some ideas for how to… ease your wounded ego.”

You said nothing, just took the bag and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Agatha smirked to herself, stretching like a cat across the bed. She thought she’d won. But she didn’t know that she was just about to lose.

~

You stood in front of the mirror one last time.

Your breath was slow. Steady.

The wine-red silk clung to every curve of your body like it had been made for you in another life. The lace, delicate and whisper-thin, draped your skin perfectly. The garter belt hugged your hips like the hands you wanted on you. The perfume at your throat made you dizzy with power.You looked like something to kneel for. And tonight, she would.

You opened the bathroom door slowly, deliberately, letting the candlelight from the bedroom cast a golden glow across your skin.

You thought you were prepared for anything. For the gasp. The hunger. The scramble to devour you right there at the threshold.

What you weren’t prepared for was: “Yes, that’s it, my clever little man, get it, get the ribbon for mama-”

You froze.

There she was, on her knees on the rug, her silk robe slipping from one shoulder, hair tumbling around her like some kind of ancient goddess…

Playing with Salem.

That fucking cat.

You blinked and waited, surely she would glance up soon. She didn’t.

She laughed softly as Salem pawed at the belt of her robe. “Ohhh, look at you. You’re so smart. You’re the smartest little man I’ve ever seen! Yes, you are, yes, you-”

You coughed loudly.

Nothing.

You stepped forward. The sound of your heel clicked on the wood floor.

Still nothing.

Agatha didn’t even flinch.

Your heart pounded. Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You were standing in the most stunning, expensive, planned-with-a-friend-for-six-hours lingerie of your life- and she hadn’t even looked up.

You waited three more seconds before yelling, “AGATHA.”

She jerked upright like she’d been hit with a bolt of lightning. Salem meowed in protest, hopping back from the sudden movement.

Her head snapped up.

Her jaw dropped.

And for the first time in her very long life, Agatha Harkness was rendered completely speechless.

Her eyes trailed slowly, painfully, down your body.

From your flushed cheeks, to your soft, bare shoulders, down your chest, where the silk clung like a second skin, to the curve of your waist, the garters on your thighs, the way the stockings shimmered in the firelight.

Her lips parted. “Fuck.”

You stared at her. Unmoving.

Agatha blinked. Tried to recover. “Baby- ”

“Oh,” you said, voice shaking with rage, “don’t you ‘baby’ me.”

She froze.

You stepped forward slowly, heels clicking like a spell being cast. “I’ve been putting up with your little games for days. You’ve been teasing me, taunting me, rubbing that smug little cat in my face like I’m some clingy little afterthought who should be grateful to sleep at the edge of the bed.”

Agatha’s mouth opened. “You know I was just- ”

You raised a hand. “Don’t.”

And she stopped.

You kept walking until you stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, the silk creasing against your skin. “I put on this for you. I let you play your little jealousy game all day. I didn’t bite. I didn’t react. I let you believe you were winning. Because I thought, tonight, you’d finally remember who I am to you.”

Agatha’s throat worked. “You’re everything-”

“And yet,” you cut in, voice low and furious, “I walked out of that bathroom looking like this, and you didn’t even fucking notice I was in the room.”

She flinched.

“I was standing right there,” you said, gesturing to the doorway. “In this, this stupidly fucking expensive set I agonized over for hours, this whole plan I crafted with Jen to make you notice me again, and you were too busy flirting with the fucking cat.”

Salem let out a tiny, uncertain chirp.

You shot him a glare. “Not now.”

Agatha stood slowly. “Darling…”

“No,” you snapped. “Don’t even try. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to see me like this.”

She crossed to you, hands open like she wanted to kneel. “You’re right. I fucked up. Let me make it right.”

“Oh, now you’re interested?”

“You look… ” her voice dropped, reverent and desperate, “divine. I want to worship you.”

You laughed coldly. “Go play with your cat, Agatha. Because you’re sure as hell not playing with me.”

Her face cracked. It was subtle. The tiniest twitch at the edge of her mouth. A flicker of panic behind her lashes. Her hands trembled just slightly. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

You turned to the door. “Watch me.”

Agatha surged forward, just one step but the second she did you spun round rapidly. “Don’t.”

Your voice cut through the room like a blade. “You’ve made your choice every night this week. And tonight? You proved I don’t even register when that cat’s in the room.”

“Baby…”

“No.” You wrapped your robe tightly around you. “I’m not going to beg for your attention. I’m not going to stand here in fucking couture lingerie while you grovel. I’m going to bed.”

She looked wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes wide. Breathing shallow.

“Wait, wait- please,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t see you- ”

“No,” you said, and opened the door. “You didn’t.”

You walked out and slammed it shut behind you.

For a second, there was silence.

Then, from behind the door:

“Fuck.”

Pause.

“Salem, I need a minute.”