arya

It’s still dim when you stir, the curtains pulled tight against the pale orange creep of Halloween morning. You’re warm, tangled in sheets, when the first press of lips on your shoulder pulls you half awake. At first, you think it’s a dream, until another follows, slow and deliberate, then another, climbing up the curve of your neck.

You groan softly, half asleep, but Agatha only chuckles against your skin.

“Happy birthday honey,” she murmurs, words punctuated by another kiss just below your ear.

You roll onto your back, squinting up at her messy dark hair and mischievous eyes. She’s already leaning over you, braced on one elbow, kissing your cheek, your temple, the corner of your mouth like she can’t stop.

“Agatha…” you whisper, smiling despite yourself.

She hums in response, catching your bottom lip between hers, lingering a moment longer this time. Her hand finds your waist beneath the blanket, warm and insistent, thumb brushing circles that send a little shiver through you.

“Woke up and realized I get to start the Samhain with my own little witch on her birthday,” she teases softly, dragging her mouth down your jawline. “How could I resist?”

It’s gentle, reverent, the kind of kissing that makes your chest ache, but every so often her teeth catch, her hand tightens at your hip, and it sparks heat low in your belly.

Her mouth trails down your throat, lazy but purposeful, and you gasp when her hand slides lower, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Agatha…” you whisper again, this time half a warning, half a plea.

She just smirks against your collarbone. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it.” Another kiss, hotter now, just above your breast. Her other hand slips beneath the neckline of your sleep shirt, brushing against your nipple until it tightens under her touch.

You arch instinctively into her palm, the mix of tender and greedy making your pulse stutter. She chuckles, delighted at your response, before tugging the shirt down to expose more of your skin. Her lips follow, kissing across your chest, tongue flicking briefly before she sucks lightly at the swell of your breast.

“My birthday girl deserves spoiling…” she murmurs against your skin. Her fingers roll your nipple between them, sending heat shooting through your body.

You clutch at her messy hair, torn between laughter and need, and she glances up at you with that wicked grin. “I should take my time with you. Really celebrate.”

The sound of Nicky shifting in the other room makes you both pause. Agatha huffs, rolling her eyes but not moving her hand from your chest. “That child has a sixth sense for ruining my fun.”

You laugh, breathless, and pull her up for a kiss. “Later,” you whisper against her mouth. “After trick or treating.”

Her grin sharpens, and she squeezes your ass again before settling back down beside you. “It’s a date, birthday girl.”

You curl closer into her, skin still tingling where her hands lingered. Her hair tickles your cheek as you tilt your face up, unable to stop the grin spreading across your lips.

“I have a present for you tonight,” you whisper, voice low and conspiratorial.

Agatha stills, one dark brow arching as her hand squeezes your waist. “Oh?”

You bite your lip, deliberately coy, before tugging her into another slow kiss. She tastes faintly of coffee, of heat and something wicked that makes your stomach flip. Just as she starts to deepen it, the unmistakable creak of little feet on the hallway floorboards makes you both freeze.

You pull back, smothering a laugh, your forehead pressed to hers.

She sighs, muttering, “Of course…” under her breath, but the corner of her mouth twitches.

A heartbeat later, Nicky comes charging through the doorway in his pajamas, curls a wild halo around his head. “Mommy! Y/N!”

You barely have time to brace before he launches himself onto the bed, wedging straight between you both like he’s always belonged there. Agatha oofs dramatically, rolling onto her back, while you grin and ruffle his hair.

“Someone’s excited for Halloween,” you say, watching his eyes sparkle.

He nods so hard it makes you laugh, already babbling about candy and costumes while Agatha pretends to groan like she’s been dethroned from her morning kisses. You catch her eye over his head, her hand sneaking across the sheets to find yours, squeezing once, and you know the promise of later still lingers between you.

Nicky’s already bouncing on the mattress, jabbering trick or treating layer and how he’s going to run faster than all the other kids. You’re laughing, trying to keep up with his energy, when Agatha props herself up on one elbow, eyes glinting with that sly, knowing warmth.

“And what else are we celebrating today, baby?” she asks, smoothing a hand over Nicky’s curls.

He freezes mid bounce, eyes widening like he’s just remembered the most important thing in the world. With a dramatic little gasp, he spins toward you.

“Happy birthday!” he squeals, throwing his small arms around your middle and squeezing so tight it knocks the air out of you.

Your heart swells as you hug him back, burying your face in his hair. “Thank you, bug,” you murmur, smiling so wide it almost aches.

Agatha watches, soft around the edges, her hand still resting protectively on Nicky’s back. Over his shoulder, she meets your gaze, and the heat from earlier shifts into something deeper, steadier. A kind of promise.

“Best present I could’ve asked for,” you whisper, kissing the top of Nicky’s head. He beams up at you like you’ve just handed him the moon.

Later in the morning, the kitchen smells like cinnamon and butter, Agatha humming under her breath as she moves around in her robe, spatula in hand. She insists on making you a “proper birthday breakfast,” though you keep teasing her about the flour streaked across her cheek and the way she keeps burning the edges of the pancakes because she’s too distracted watching you.

Nicky’s in his room, rustling through his toy box and narrating to himself, leaving the two of you in a rare bubble of quiet. You hop up onto the counter, swinging your legs, watching Agatha fuss with the skillet.

She sets down the spatula with a sigh, leaning against the counter opposite you. “I don’t know why I’m nervous,” she admits finally, voice low. “It’s just… his first time out there. Going house to house, strangers handing him things…”

You smile softly, sliding off the counter to cross the kitchen and touch her arm. “Agatha. It’s a couple of blocks. He’s going to be too busy showing off his costume and trying to eat his weight in candy to notice anything scary.”

Her mouth twists, not quite convinced, and you squeeze her wrist. “We’ll both be there. We’ll hold his hand at every step, and by the time we get home, he’ll be so tired he’ll be asleep before his head hits the pillow.”

She looks at you then, really looks, and you see the tension ease just a little. She leans in to kiss your temple, her hand warm against your back.

“Between the two of us,” you add with a grin, “he doesn’t stand a chance of getting into trouble.”

That finally earns you a quiet laugh, the sound soft and fond in the morning kitchen.

Agatha flips the last pancake onto a plate and slides it toward you, but she doesn’t move away. Instead, she lingers close, one hip against the counter, eyes flicking over you with a spark that’s got nothing to do with breakfast.

“You know what would really calm my nerves?” she says, tone deceptively casual as she leans in, brushing a crumb off your shirt. “If you tell me what present you got me.”

You grin, slow and wicked, and shake your head. “Nice try.”

Her brow arches, her hand ghosting over your waist. “Not even a hint?”

You press yourself closer, until your lips graze her ear, your breath warm against her skin. “All I’ll say…” Your voice drops, teasing, “by the time I’m done, you’ll feel like it’s your birthday.”

Her laugh is low, a little ragged, and she smacks your hip with the dish towel before turning back to the stove. “Wretched girl,” she mutters, but her smile lingers, tugging at the corners of her mouth.

You’re halfway through your stack of pancakes when Nicky comes tearing back into the kitchen, his little feet slapping against the floor. His curls are even wilder than before, cheeks flushed from bouncing around his room.

“Can we do presents now?” he blurts, practically vibrating as he scrambles up onto his chair.

You pause mid bite, blinking at him in surprise, then turn to Agatha with a grin spreading across your face. “Presents? What did you guys get me?”

You sound more excited than you mean to, like you’re still ten years old and can’t wait to rip into wrapping paper, and Agatha’s lips twitch, amused at the sparkle in your eyes.

Nicky’s grin is enormous, and he looks like he’s about to burst with the effort of keeping a secret. He slaps both hands over his mouth like that will stop him from blurting it out.

“It’s a surprise!” he manages through his fingers, his words muffled and giggly.

Agatha shakes her head, pouring herself coffee with deliberate calm, but you catch the warmth in her eyes. “Patience, sweetheart,” she tells him. “We’ll do it after breakfast.”

Nicky groans dramatically, dropping his head onto the table, and you laugh, leaning over to ruffle his curls. “Guess I’d better eat fast then.”

He peeks up at you, still grinning so hard it looks like it hurts, and you swear your chest might burst at how proud he is of whatever they’ve done.

You’ve barely set your fork down before Nicky’s sliding off his chair, dashing out of the room with a squeal of, “Wait right here!”

Agatha sips her coffee, deliberately unbothered, but you can see the corner of her mouth quirking like she’s been waiting for this too. A minute later Nicky comes tearing back in, clutching a lumpy little package covered in half-peeled tape and crooked wrapping paper.

“Open this one from me!” he declares, thrusting it into your hands and bouncing on his toes.

You cradle the gift like it’s precious, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Did you wrap this yourself?” you ask gently.

Nicky nods furiously. “I picked it too!”

You tear back the paper, revealing a paperback book, a spooky illustrated collection of ghost stories, the kind you know he must’ve zeroed in on the moment he saw the cover. There’s even a bright orange pumpkin sticker still on it.

“Oh, bug…” Your voice goes thick as you pull him in, hugging him close. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He beams, proud as can be, and climbs right into your lap as he’s still small enough to fit there.

Across the table, Agatha leans her chin on her hand, watching with eyes soft and dark. “There’s another present,” she says smoothly, her gaze flicking to you. “But that one’s from me. You can open it later, baby.”

The way she says it makes warmth crawl up your neck, and you bite your lip, ducking your face against Nicky’s curls so he won’t see you blush. Agatha smirks into her coffee, entirely too pleased with herself.

The rest of the day slips into a kind of golden, pumpkin scented blur. After breakfast, Nicky begs to do “Halloween crafts,” and since Agatha refuses to hand a five year old a carving knife, the three of you set up at the kitchen table with paints and glitter instead.

Nicky smears orange and green across his little pumpkin until it looks like a swamp monster. Yours ends up covered in delicate black stars and a witch flying over a moon, while Agatha takes hers far too seriously, painting elaborate spirals and sharp teeth until it looks genuinely menacing.

Nicky gasps and declares hers the winner, though he still insists his is “the scariest.”

Later, you curl up in the living room with a blanket nest and a bowl of popcorn. Agatha puts on Hocus Pocus, and Nicky half watches, half acts out every scene with wild abandon. He chants along with “I put a spell on you” at the top of his lungs, and you and Agatha can’t stop laughing at how earnest he is.

By late afternoon, the light outside is thinning into that dusky October glow. The pumpkins sit proudly in the kitchen, glimmering with paint, and Nicky is already hopping from foot to foot, begging to put his costume on.

Agatha exchanges a look with you, equal parts amused and resigned. “God help us when he has sugar in him,” she mutters, but there’s warmth in her voice as she sets her coffee down and claps her hands.

“Alright, bug. Time to get ready.”

Nicky cheers like he’s about to go on stage at Madison Square Garden, disappearing toward his room.

Nicky bounces on his bed while Agatha wrestles him into his costume, a soft little goat onesie complete with floppy ears and tiny felt horns. He’s giggling so hard he can barely stay still, and she’s muttering under her breath, trying to zip him up without catching his curls.

“There,” she declares at last, stepping back with mock gravitas. “The most terrifying creature of the night.”

Nicky lets out a bleat that makes you snort from the doorway. “Terrifyingly cute,” you correct, leaning on the frame.

Agatha turns and the joke dies on her tongue.

You’re standing there in a simple red dress, devil horns perched in your hair, lipstick painted to match. It’s nothing scandalous, family friendly enough for a night out with a kid, but it’s you. And the way that color clings to your body, the way those horns tilt like you were born to wear them, it’s enough to make her pulse skip.

Her gaze drags over you slowly, mouth parting before she can stop herself.

“Mommy, look! Y/N’s a devil!” Nicky crows, hopping off the bed and running to clutch at your skirt. “We both have horns!”

You crouch to ruffle his curls, planting a kiss on his cheek, but when you glance up, Agatha is still staring, her eyes dark, heat written plain across her face.

You straighten, smoothing your dress, deliberately meeting her gaze. The faintest smirk plays at your lips as you tilt your head. “Something wrong?”

Her jaw tightens, and she clears her throat, pulling her composure back together. “Nothing at all,” she says smoothly, but her eyes betray her, hungry, wicked, promising later.

Nicky tugs at your hand. “Come onnn, can we go now?”

You laugh, ruffling his ears. “Almost, bug. Let me grab the candy bucket.”

You’re about to usher Nicky toward the front door when a thought strikes, and you stop short, tugging gently on his hand. “Wait a second.”

Nicky blinks up at you. “What?”

You crouch down to his level, eyes flicking toward Agatha, who’s standing with her arms crossed, already fishing her keys out of her purse. “Isn’t something missing?” you ask him, stage whispering.

He follows your gaze, then gasps, his little goat ears flopping. “Mommy’s not in costume!”

Agatha freezes mid motion, eyes narrowing at the pair of you. “Oh, hell no.”

You and Nicky pout in unison, perfect teamwork. You even stick your bottom lip out for emphasis.

“It’s Halloween,” you say innocently. “Everybody dresses up.”

“I haven’t got a costume,” she counters flatly, clearly thinking that’s the end of it.

You grin, triumphant, and reach behind the armchair where you stashed your secret weapon earlier. “Actually…”

You hold up a black witch’s hat and a long wig streaked with silver, wiggling them in her direction.

Agatha’s eyes go wide, genuinely aghast. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” you shoot back, biting your lip to hide your laugh.

Nicky is already cheering, hopping around like a little goat possessed. “Yes, Mommy, yes! Be a witch, be a witch!”

Agatha looks between the two of you, the pleading eyes, the ridiculous wig, and mutters something that sounds like a very creative curse under her breath. But you can see the crack in her armor, the way she’s already caving even as she shakes her head.

Agatha pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s suffering, muttering, “I survived the Salem trials, and this is my reward.”

“Mommyyyy,” Nicky whines, tugging at her robe sleeve. “Please? For me?”

You give her your most innocent grin, clutching the hat and wig to your chest. “Come on, professor. Don’t make us trick or treat with a boring non-witch.”

Her glare could set fire to the curtains. “You’re lucky I love you both,” she growls, snatching the wig out of your hands.

You and Nicky cheer triumphantly as Agatha disappears into the bedroom with an air of doom, and when she re-emerges, the transformation nearly makes you drop the candy bucket. The wig cascades over her shoulders in glossy black streaked with silver, the hat perched at a rakish angle. Against her sharp cheekbones and that sly smirk she can’t quite hold back, she doesn’t look silly at all, she looks devastating.

Nicky claps his hands. “You’re a witch! A real witch!”

Agatha sweeps into a mock bow. “Don’t you forget it, kiddo.”

Your mouth has gone dry. You manage a weak laugh, biting your lip as you rake your eyes over her. “Honestly… you look hot.”

Her brows lift, and she tilts her head, savoring your blush. “Careful, darling,” she purrs, smoothing the wig back from her face. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have to remind you who’s the wicked one around here.”

Nicky, oblivious, tugs at both your hands, bouncing on his goat hooves. “Come on, come on, candy time!”

Agatha chuckles, adjusting the hat as she takes his hand. But her gaze lingers on you, wicked promise glinting beneath the brim.

The air outside is crisp, tinged with woodsmoke and the faint sweetness of roasted pumpkin from somewhere down the block. Jack-o-lanterns glow on porches, flickering light casting little shadows as kids in costumes race past with plastic buckets swinging.

Nicky clutches his own pumpkin pail in one hand, Agatha’s in the other. For all his earlier bouncing, his steps falter now that you’re actually walking up the street. His little goat horns droop as he presses closer to her side.

Agatha glances down, her expression softening immediately. “What’s this?” she murmurs, crouching slightly so she’s eye level. “Where did my fearless little billy goat go?”

He chews his lip, shrugging. “There’s lots of people.”

You step in, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “That’s okay, bug. First house is always the scariest. We’ll be right here the whole time.”

He nods, still unsure, and Agatha squeezes his hand, tucking it into the crook of her arm. “I’ll knock with you,” she says, voice firm but gentle. “We’ll do it together.”

You smile at the sight, Agatha in her witch’s wig, Nicky in his goat onesie clinging to her side, and her patience wrapping around him like a shield.

By the time you reach the first porch, his steps are steadier. He looks up at both of you, takes a deep breath, and blurts out, “Trick or treat!” with all the force he can muster.

The neighbor drops a fun-sized candy bar into his bucket, and he stares at it like it’s treasure. Turning back, he beams at Agatha, then at you. “I did it!”

You laugh, clapping softly. “Told you.”

Agatha bends to kiss the top of his curls, her eyes meeting yours over his head. The pride there makes your chest ache, and the way she looks in that hat makes you want to drag her back inside immediately.

The first few houses are slow going. At each porch, Nicky squeezes Agatha’s hand so tight she has to gently pry her fingers free just to let him raise his bucket. His “trick or treat” comes out barely above a whisper, and more than once you have to lean down and coax, “Try again, bug, they can’t hear you.”

But each time, the reward of candy makes his eyes go wide, and his grin a little bigger.

By the third house, a tidy little bungalow with paper ghosts dangling from the eaves, he manages it without prompting. Still quiet, but strong enough that the woman at the door beams and drops two treats into his bucket.

“See?” you murmur as he bounces back down the steps. “You’ve got this.”

Agatha’s hand brushes the small of your back as she falls into step beside you. “He’s braver than he knows,” she says softly, though the proud little smile tugging at her mouth is for you as much as for him.

By the fifth house, a yard decked out with inflatable skeletons, Nicky doesn’t even wait. He dashes up the walkway, calling out his line loud enough that a teenager in a werewolf mask chuckles and says, “Nice goat, dude.”

Nicky beams, puffing his chest out. “I’m a scary goat.”

“Terrifying,” you agree solemnly when he scampers back, chocolate bar clutched like a trophy.

Soon he’s charging from house to house, his bucket rattling, goat ears flopping with each step. His shyness is forgotten, he barely glances back to make sure you and Agatha are following, though he still slips his hand into hers whenever something spooky moves in a yard.

At one house, a motion sensor skeleton lurches forward with a crackling laugh. Nicky yelps and grabs Agatha’s leg, but when she crouches to check on him, he’s already giggling, eyes shining.

“It didn’t even get me!” he crows, bolting up the steps to claim his candy.

You and Agatha share a look in the porchlight, her wig slightly crooked now, your lipstick a little smudged from earlier stolen kisses, and your chest feels full enough to burst.

You’re halfway down the block when a group of teenagers on bikes zoom past, shouting “Boo!” and rattling their handlebars as they go. The sound is loud and sudden, followed by echo of the teenagers laughter when Nicky’s candy bucket clatters to the pavement, treats spilling everywhere. His little arms shoot up, clutching around your neck as you lift him onto your hip. He buries his face in your shoulder, shoulders shaking, a tiny bleat escaping him through his sobs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, bug,” you murmur, bouncing him gently on your hip. But his breaths are shaky, and you can feel the wet heat of tears against your collarbone.

When you glance up, Agatha’s already moving, her long strides eating up the distance between her and the boys on their bikes. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t look back.

“Hey!” Her voice is sharp as glass. The teens skid to a wobbling stop, laughter stuttering to silence. “You think it’s funny to terrify a five year old?”

One of them snorts nervously, but it dies quick under her glare.

“Look at him.” Agatha points back at you and Nicky, her finger a dagger. “Do you see him crying in her arms? You did that. You think you’re men because you ride around in a pack and pick on children? It’s pathetic.”

They shift uneasily, muttering. One tries to shrug. “We were just messin’ around…”

“Messing?” Her laugh is low and venomous. “You don’t mess with my son.”

The air seems to tighten around her, and even in the silly witch’s hat, she looks every bit the storm.

Her voice drops, colder now, “so here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to apologize, properly, and then you’re going to get back on those bikes and keep riding. And if I ever see you pull something like that again…” She steps closer, forcing them to crane their necks up at her. “You won’t have to worry about Halloween monsters. You’ll have to worry about me.”

The boys blanch. One stammers, “S-sorry, kid!” before the rest stumble over each other with mumbled apologies. Then they’re gone, pedaling furiously into the night, the wheels of their bikes squealing as they flee.

Agatha stands there for a moment, chest rising and falling, before she exhales and smooths her wig back into place. When she turns back to you, her expression melts, all the sharpness gone.

She crosses to you and Nicky, stroking his curls tenderly. “Oh, baby boy,” she murmurs, voice soft as velvet. “I’m here, mama’s here.” She kisses his damp cheek, her hand cradling the back of his head. “Come on, let’s show them how brave you are. Let’s do another house, hm?”

Nicky sniffles, peeking up at her with watery eyes. “With you?”

“Always with me,” she promises. She slips her hand into his, and his little fingers curl tight around hers.

You set him back down gently, brushing his tears away with your thumbs. “See? They’re gone. And the next house might have the good chocolate.”

That gets a small smile out of him, and the three of you set off again, his goat tail bouncing with each step, Agatha’s hand steady and strong in his.

By the time you circle back toward your street, Nicky’s pail is nearly full, clinking with candy. He’s dragging his feet now, each step slower, goat horns slipping crooked on his head.

You reach for him, but Agatha’s already crouching down, voice gentle. “Come here, baby boy.”

Nicky lifts his arms without a word, and she scoops him up like he weighs nothing, settling him against her chest. His curls flop against her shoulder, his pail dangling from one small hand, and within minutes his eyes are drifting shut.

The streetlights halo them in a warm glow, the ridiculous witch’s wig slightly askew, her hat tipped back, and Nicky curled safely in her arms. You walk beside them, your heart so full it aches, watching the rise and fall of his little chest as sleep takes him.

Agatha glances at you over his head, her smirk softer now, tinged with something achingly tender. “Told you he’d be asleep before his head hit the pillow.”

You reach out, brushing a hand over Nicky’s back, then linking your pinky with hers as you walk. “And you didn’t hex a single neighbor,” you tease softly.

Her chuckle is low, careful not to wake him. “Tempted, though.”

You nod solemnly, “with great power comes great responsibility.”

Together, you head up the front steps, pumpkins glowing on the porch, the night quiet now. Agatha adjusts her grip, kissing the crown of Nicky’s curls as she carries him inside, her other hand reaching back to find yours.

It feels like the three of you against the world.

Inside, the house is warm. Agatha carries Nicky straight to his room, his little goat tail bobbing with each step. He stirs faintly when she lays him down on his bed, but doesn’t fully wake, just curls into the pillow with a tiny sigh.

You kneel to help, easing the floppy horns and onesie off him as gently as you can. He grumbles, but Agatha soothes him with a hand on his back, whispering, “Shhh, my baby boy, go back to sleep. You’ve had a big night.”

He’s already half gone, thumb slipping into his mouth as his lashes flutter shut. You and Agatha share a smile over him, silent in the dim room.

Together, you pull the blanket up over his shoulders. Agatha tucks it close around him with a care that makes your chest ache, leaning down to press a kiss into his curls. “Sleep tight, little goat,” she murmurs.

You smooth the hair from his forehead, pressing your own kiss there, before flicking off the bedside lamp. The room settles into darkness, the only sound is his soft breathing.

In the hallway, Agatha pulls the door nearly closed, leaving it open just a crack. She lingers for a moment, her hand still on the knob, her face softened by shadow.

“First Halloween trick or treating,” she whispers. “He did alright.”

You slip your arms around her waist from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder. “He did better than alright. And so did his mom.”

Her breath catches faintly, and you feel her relax back against you.

Agatha eases the door shut then turns, her eyes finding you in the dim hall light. She steps in close, her hands sliding around your hips, thumbs pressing into the fabric of your dress.

“Now,” she murmurs, voice low, rich, her breath tickling your ear. “Are you ready for your birthday present, baby?”

The words send a shiver down your spine. You gasp softly, nodding, but then bite your lip, mischief sparking in your eyes.

“Why don’t you let me change…” you whisper, your voice just as teasing. “And I’ll meet you in bed with my present? We can exchange.”

Agatha leans back just enough to study your face, one brow arching high, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod again, heart thudding, trying not to grin too wide.

Her fingers squeeze your hips once, possessive, before she lets you go, stepping back with a mock bowed flourish. “Don’t keep me waiting, birthday girl. I’m very impatient.”

She watches you walk down the hall toward your room, her smirk lingering, her eyes dark with hunger, the witch’s hat still tipped rakishly on her head.

Agatha slips into the main bathroom, wiping away the remnants of makeup and tugging off the wig with a dramatic shake of her head. By the time she emerges, her face is clean, hair falling loose around her shoulders, her body wrapped in her silk robe with nothing underneath.

On the bed, she props herself up against the pillows, one long leg bent, the tie of the robe hanging just loose enough to hint at what’s beneath. An envelope sits on the nightstand within easy reach, her neat handwriting spelling out your name.

But what really betrays her is the way the fabric tents, her cock thick and hard under the sheen of silk, throbbing with every restless shift of her hips.

She exhales through her nose, running a hand down over the bulge, groaning quietly. “Birthday girl’s going to make me wait,” she mutters to herself, half amused, half desperate.

From behind the closed ensuite door, she can hear the faint shuffle of you moving about: fabric rustling, maybe a zipper, something that sounds like the click of lipstick being applied. Every little sound has her cock twitching, her jaw tightening.

She tips her head back against the headboard, eyes fixed on that door, her voice low and wicked even though you can’t hear her, “Come on, baby. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You crack the ensuite door just wide enough to peek your head out. Agatha is sprawled back against the pillows, silk robe parted over her lap, her cock straining against the fabric. The envelope with her gift sits untouched at her side, but her eyes are fixed on you instantly, hungry.

“Close your eyes,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Her brows lift, amused, but she obliges without protest. “As you wish, birthday girl.”

Heart pounding, you slip fully into the room. The lace of the little bunny costume feels almost too sheer under the soft light, pale pink and white clinging to every curve. The ears sit tall on your head, the satin bow snug around your waist.

But the real gift is the fluffy bunny tail nestled above your ass, anchored by the plug stretching you, makes your skin prickle with nerves and heat all at once.

You shuffle forward a few steps, then bite your lip. “Okay… open.”

Her lashes lift, and her jaw drops. For a moment she doesn’t even breathe. She just stares, completely undone in an instant by her twenty seven year old girl, trembling in pink lace and ears, offering herself up like a fantasy come to life.

“Holy fuck,” she whispers, voice low and rough.

You twirl nervously, cheeks hot when you know Agatha will see the bunny tail peek out. When she realizes what it really is, her eyes go wide, hunger flooding her face.

“You…” her voice breaks, then deepens, full of disbelief and want. “You’ve got a plug in your perfect little ass?”

You nod shyly, your lip caught between your teeth. “All for you.”

She groans, hand pressing hard over her cock, the silk darkening with precum. “Jesus Christ, baby…”

Her eyes rake over you like she can’t decide whether to devour you whole or drop to her knees in worship. “You’re going to kill me.”

You crawl up onto the bed on trembling knees, the lace stretching over your thighs, the satin bow swaying with every move. Agatha tracks every inch, her eyes dark and fixed, lips parted like she’s starving.

When you finally settle into her lap, straddling her, you can feel the thick, insistent press of her cock under the silk robe. She grips your hips automatically, fingers digging in like she needs to anchor you in place.

You lick your lips, nerves fluttering in your chest. “So…” your voice comes out small, breathy. “What’s my present?”

Her eyes flick to the envelope by her side, then back to you, and she laughs, low, half strangled.

“Fuck the present,” she rasps, forehead pressing briefly against your shoulder as if she can’t bear the sight of you without breaking.

You bite your lip, shifting slightly, the little bunny tail pressing against her lap. Her breath catches hard, a ragged moan slipping out.

“Do you have any idea,” she growls, voice ruined with want, “what it’s doing to me, seeing you like this, knowing you’re stretched open for me?” Her hand slides down, squeezing the swell of your ass, her thumb brushing the base of the tail.

You whimper, nodding, though your face is burning. “I… I wanted to try. For you.”

Her head snaps back up, eyes blazing. “Honey, I can’t even think straight. The only thing in my head right now is bending you over and finally fucking that perfect little ass until you scream for me.”

Her words make your whole body tremble, your thighs pressing tighter around her hips. She groans at the pressure, cock twitching under you, her grip on your waist almost desperate.

Her mouth finds yours, hungry and desperate, teeth catching your bottom lip before she devours you in a kiss. You moan into it, your hands tangling in her hair, her tongue pushing deep, claiming every part of you.

Her hands roam everywhere, palming your breasts through the lace cups, tugging one down so she can pinch and roll your nipple between her fingers until you gasp. Her other hand slides down to your ass, squeezing, pressing insistently against the plug’s base until you whimper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” she growls against your mouth. “Dressed like this, warm on my lap, stretched open and waiting for me, fuck, honey, I could come just from looking at you.”

You grind down against her cock through the silk, both of you groaning at the friction. She licks down your throat, teeth grazing the skin, before kissing back up to your jaw, your ear. “Gonna let me have it tonight? Gonna let me take you there for the first time?”

Your head tips back, breath shaky, eyes half-lidded. “Y-yeah… please, Aggie.”

Her groan is guttural, her hips bucking under you.

Breaking the kiss, you shift slightly, reaching to the dresser drawer beside the bed. She watches through heavy lidded eyes as you pull out the small bottle of lube, holding it shyly, your lip caught between your teeth.

Her breath leaves her in a sharp exhale, her cock jerking visibly under the thin robe. “Oh, my god…”

You squirt some onto your hand, slick and cool, then reach down between you, covering her length with slow, deliberate strokes through the silk until she hisses and tears the robe open, baring herself to you.

“Jesus Christ, baby…” she groans, head dropping back against the headboard, eyes closing as your slick hand glides over her, coating her in lube. “You’re killing me… in the best fucking way.”

Her hand fists in your hair, tugging you back down into another bruising kiss as her cock glistens under your touch, ready for you.

Her cock gleams under your hand, slick and ready, her chest rising and falling hard as she kisses you like she’ll never get enough. When she finally pulls back, her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide.

“Lay down for me, darling,” she murmurs, voice wrecked. “Let me see you.”

You slide off her lap, shivering as you stretch out across the sheets. The little lace costume clings to your skin, the ears askew on your head, the bunny tail still nestled snug where she wants it most. Agatha crawls over you, robe falling open, her cock brushing against your thigh as she settles between your knees.

She tugs the lace down, exposing your breasts, her mouth closing over one nipple while her hand slides lower, thumb circling your clit. You gasp, arching up into her touch, the plug pressing deeper with the movement.

“So wet for me already,” she growls against your skin. “God, you’re perfect.”

Her fingers slip inside you easily, scissoring, stretching, preparing you while the plug keeps you open in back. Every thrust of her hand makes you moan, makes the pressure at your ass ache sweeter.

“That’s it, baby… open up for me. Let me get you ready.”

She fucks you with her fingers slow and deep, curling them just right, your hips rocking up against her palm. Every drag presses the plug inside you forward a fraction, teasing you until you’re whimpering and clinging to her.

Her mouth never stops, kissing along your jaw, sucking lightly at your nipple, licking over the other, murmuring praises between every kiss:.

“Perfect girl… look at you, taking my fingers so sweet… can’t wait to feel you around me.”

When she finally withdraws, your body clenches at the loss, desperate. She smirks down at you, breathless herself. “Greedy thing. You want me already?”

You nod frantically, biting your lip.

She shifts lower, her hand wrapping around the base of the plug. She presses her mouth to yours again as she starts to ease it out, kissing you through the stretch. You gasp into her mouth as the widest part pulls free, your body clenching helplessly around the emptiness.

“Shhh,” she soothes, stroking your hip with her free hand. She holds the plug up for a moment, her eyes wicked, before tossing it aside. “God, baby, you’re so open for me… all mine.”

Her cock jerks against your thigh, heavy and slick with lube from your earlier touch. She fists it once, groaning, then lines herself up carefully, the broad head nudging against your rim.

“Deep breath for me,” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth.

The push is slow, deliberate, the thick head stretching you inch by inch. Your back arches, nails digging into her shoulders as the burn flares sharp. She stills instantly, kissing your temple. “Easy. You’re alright. You’re taking me so beautifully.”

She waits, kisses your lips and strokes your side, until your tight muscles begin to yield around her. Then she presses further, sliding in another inch, then another, until you’re gasping, legs trembling around her waist.

“Fuck, darling…” Her voice cracks, her forehead dropping against yours. “You feel like heaven. So tight, so hot. I’ve dreamed about this, filling you here, for so long.”

By the time she’s fully seated, you’re panting, eyes glassy. The fullness is overwhelming, heavy and deep in a way you’ve never felt before.

Agatha doesn’t move right away. She cups your face in both hands, kissing you soft and slow, her cock pulsing deep inside you. “There she is,” she murmurs. “My brave girl. Let me know when you’re ready, I won’t move until you tell me.”

And the truth is, your body is already fluttering around her, craving every inch.

The weight of her inside you is almost unbearable, every throb of her cock makes your body flutter helplessly, your nails digging crescents into her shoulders. She kisses you through it, slow and grounding, her voice a murmur against your lips.

“Tell me, darling. Tell me you want it.”

Your hips shift involuntarily, trying to take more, and you gasp, “Please, Agatha… move. I need you.”

A groan rumbles out of her chest, guttural, relieved. “There’s my girl.”

She pulls back just an inch, then slides in again, the stretch sharp but intoxicating. Your whole body shudders, legs tightening around her waist.

“That’s it,” she praises, her voice breaking as she thrusts again , still slow, still careful, but deeper this time. “God, you feel so good. You’re taking me so well. Look at you.”

Every stroke drags over nerves that make your breath stutter, the burn easing into something hot, needy, overwhelming. You clutch at her back, your whimpers turning into moans as she finds a steady rhythm.

Her mouth hovers over yours, kissing you between words. “So brave for me… so perfect. Letting me be your first here. My birthday girl.”

The way she says it makes your chest ache, makes the heat coil tight in your belly. She shifts her angle just slightly, and the next deep thrust has you gasping, back arching, your body clenching so hard around her that she curses.

“Fuck, don’t do that, baby, I’ll lose it,” she groans, dropping her forehead to yours.

But you can’t stop; every deliberate push fills you deeper than you thought possible, every slow withdrawal leaves you clawing at her to get her back in. Your pleas tumble out helpless, breathless. “More, please don’t stop-”

And Agatha, undone, obeys, each stroke stronger, deeper, her praises spilling hot against your ear as she fucks you, steady and unrelenting, like she’s never wanted anything more.

Once she feels you start to tighten around her, Agatha’s restraint snaps. She growls low in her throat, pulling nearly all the way out before driving back into you, deeper, harder.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, baby. Squeeze me like that.”

Her hand slips between your bodies, slick fingers finding your clit. She circles it in time with each thrust, relentless, making you whimper and thrash under her.

It’s too much, every drag of her cock, every brush of her fingers pulling sounds out of you that could wake the whole house. You bite down on her shoulder, muffling your cries into her warm skin. She hisses, the sting only spurring her on.

“That’s it,” she pants, fucking you harder. “Mark me, darling. Let everyone I’m yours.”

Your nails claw into her back as she pistons into you, the stretch and fullness dizzying. Her thumb presses firmer against your clit, her other hand gripping your hip to hold you in place while she pounds into you.

“You’re perfect like this,” she groans, her cock dragging against every spot inside you. “Taking me so deep, so tight… you’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? My brave girl, gonna come with me in your ass.”

You nod frantically against her shoulder, teeth still sunk into her skin, your body shuddering as the heat crests higher and higher.

Agatha grits her teeth, fucking you through it, fingers never letting up. “Come on, baby. Give it to me. Let go.”

The wave hits you hard, your whole body seizing around her cock as you come with a muffled cry against her shoulder. She groans like she’s been wrecked herself, your body clutching down around her cock so tight she nearly sobs against your throat. Agatha’s thrusts turn ragged, desperate, her hips snapping hard into you.

“Fuck, baby,” she chokes out, her voice wrecked, “you’re milking me- fuck I can’t…”

She slams deep, buries herself to the hilt, and the moment she feels herself go, she grinds into you, holding you down as her cock jerks and spills inside. Hot, thick pulses flood you, each one wrenched from her in guttural groans against your skin.

But she doesn’t stop. Even as she’s coming, her fingers work your clit mercilessly, her thumb circling fast, coaxing more helpless whimpers out of you.

“Come with me again,” she begs, hips rolling, grinding her release deeper into you. “Take it all, darling. Let me feel you fall apart on me.”

Your thighs tremble, your breath coming in gasps, muffled against her shoulder as another wave crashes over you. The overstimulation blurs pleasure into something almost unbearable, and still she plays you like she knows every inch of you, which she does.

“Good girl,” she rasps, kissing your damp temple, still grinding slow and deep, her cock twitching inside your ass. “Taking every drop… fuck, you’re mine.”

Your teeth sink into her shoulder again, stifling the cry that tears out of you as your body convulses, clenching around her cock while she rides you through it, her own orgasm stretched thin, desperate.

When she finally collapses against you, sweaty and trembling, she’s still inside, her hips pressed flush to yours, her fingers tangled with yours over your stomach.

“Happy birthday, honey,” she whispers hoarsely, kissing the corner of your mouth, voice wrecked but tender.

Agatha eases out of you slowly, kissing your lips when you whimper at the loss. “I know, baby. You did so well for me,” she murmurs, smoothing her hand down your trembling thigh.

She slips off the bed, robe trailing behind her, and returns with a warm cloth and your softest pajamas folded over her arm. With infinite care, she cleans you up with gentle strokes between your legs, murmuring praises with every touch.

“So brave for me… my perfect girl… you gave me everything tonight.”

Once she’s satisfied, she slides the pajamas onto you herself, guiding your arms through the sleeves, pulling the cotton shorts up over your hips.

She kisses your shoulder as she smooths the fabric down, whispering, “There. My pretty girl, all tucked up.”

When she climbs back into bed, she doesn’t just curl beside you, she pulls you fully against her chest, tucking your head under her chin, wrapping both arms around you like she never intends to let go. Her lips find your hair, kissing over and over, her voice a soft litany.

“You were incredible tonight. So gorgeous, so good for me. I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Her words sink deep, warm and steady, her hand rubbing circles into your back as you melt against her. She kisses the crown of your head, your temple, the tip of your nose, every part of you she can reach.

“You’re mine,” she whispers finally, pressing her forehead to yours. “My perfect birthday girl. My everything.”

And with her arms tight around you, her lips on your hair, and her praises washing over you, you feel safe, cherished, and wholly hers.

You’re curled into her chest, the steady thump of her heartbeat under your ear, her fingers still tracing slow, lazy circles across your back. The room smells faintly of sex and clean cotton, pumpkins glowing faintly from outside the window.

After a long moment, you tilt your face up, eyes shy but shining. “Can I… have my birthday present now?” you whisper.

Agatha chuckles, low and warm, dipping to kiss your forehead. “Oh, baby… after what you just gave me? You deserve it a hundred times over.”

She reaches past you, plucking the envelope from the nightstand, and presses it into your hands with a flourish. “Go on, then. Tear it open before I change my mind.”

Your fingers tremble as you rip it open, sliding out a neat set of printed reservations. You scan the words, your brain stuttering as they sink in: one week away. Greece. Flights. Hotel by the sea. All in your name.

Your throat tightens, vision blurring instantly. “Agatha…” Your voice cracks as tears spill hot down your cheeks. “Are you serious?”

She cups your jaw, brushing the tears with her thumbs, her smile so soft it nearly breaks you. “Of course I’m serious. You’ve never seen the Aegean. I’ll show you. Just us, darling. A week with nothing but sun, wine, and me spoiling you rotten.”

You let out a wet laugh, burying your face in her neck, clinging to her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her arms tighten around you, her lips kissing your hair. “You deserve the world, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”

She holds you close while you cry and laugh against her, the envelope crumpling between your fingers, her kisses soft and endless.

You can’t stop crying, little sniffly giggles bubbling up between the tears as you clutch the crumpled envelope in one hand and Agatha in the other. She just kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your mouth, whispering “my darling girl… my brave girl…” with every touch.

“I love you so much,” you breathe against her lips, your voice shaky but certain.

Her chest shudders with a sigh, and then she’s cradling your face in both hands, kissing you slow and reverent.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs when she finally pulls back, her eyes shining. “I love you more than you’ll ever know. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.”

She tucks you tightly against her, her body curling protectively around yours, one hand stroking your hair while the other holds your waist as if she’ll never let go. You burrow into her chest, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her warmth surround you.

The pumpkins glow faintly outside, the night quiet around you, but in her arms it’s just the two of you, safe and whole.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers into your hair, tightening her hold. “Forever.”

You smile through the last of your tears, kissing the hollow of her throat. “Forever.”

“Do you give fuck-me eyes to every girl you see or is it something special just for me?” Her voice is lower than usual from behind you and the hand that was on your back reaches to hold your hip.

She’s warm, and her presence so close to you makes you burn. Hearing her voice this close after months of being apart tugs at your heartstrings though. 

“Youre insane, I was not giving fuck-me eyes to an asshole like you.” Your voice is flat, or as flat as you can make it. You walk further into the bathroom to get away from her touch but it’s of no use, because the bathroom ends as soon as it begins. 

“Liar.” is all she says, in that smug, cocky tone of hers and you don't have to turn around and see to know she’s smirking right now.

“Shut up-”

“It’s okay to admit that you haven't gotten off properly since we last hooked up, it’s fine.” She cuts you off and it’s agitating, you can already feel the flush creeping up your chest.

But you turn around to look at her, she has her back against the bathroom door, arms crossed with those toned forearms on display, deep blue eyes staring right at you and your breath hitches. 

She simply raises a brow, “So it is true.” 

“No, it is the fuck not.” It’s of no use because she’s already taking a step forward to press up against you, pushing you back towards the vanity, arms caging you in and the warmth of her body ends up making you shudder. 

She is right, of course. No one has been able to make you feel as good as she had, but you two had been broken up for months. And you are not going to give her the advantage over you, you are not that weak. 

“Baby,” She ends up mumbling, breath warm and minty against your cheek and you have to close your eyes to not give in.

She takes that as an excuse to press up even closer against you, her chest flush against yours and your panties dampened. “Cmon, you know I know you better than that.”

When you don't push her away, her grin widens, and she ends up pressing a featherlight kiss against your cheekbone.

And when you let her, her kisses turn purposeful as she litters them across your cheek and jaw. She lets the silence linger for a while, taut and electric as she peppers her kisses, before her tactic changes again.

“You want me to fuck you, and I want to fuck you too. Don't play hard to get, it’s not a cute look on you.” She coos and her hands press your hips even more into the vanity and you let out a quiet hiss when the marble digs in the small of your back. 

You don't reply but you look up at her, eyes flickering over her face. From her cerulean eyes to her prominent nose, and those full lips. She means every word she is saying

“Admit it, you were staring at me, waiting for me, because you love it. The anticipation. You know I can't stay away from you.” She mumbles, lips pouting as they brush over the corner of your mouth, and your whole body lights up. “And you like that about me. Isn't this the game we always play?”

She’s right, again. This isn't the first time this has happened and it probably won't be the last. But you want to hold onto that last remaining shred of dignity. You don't want to admit that you still crave her touch, after all this time. 

But who are you fooling, you still want her. No matter how much she runs, you will always run after her. 

It’s you who presses your lips together, and it’s you who wraps an arm around her neck to pull her closer while your hand tangles in her hair. It’s still so soft. 

She hums against your mouth, head tilting towards the side to deepen the kiss as her nails dig in your waist, holding you in place, and you mewl at the pain and pleasure mixed together. She kisses you like she owns your mouth and she does. 

Her tongue licks your bottom lip, gently, teasing, asking for permission and your lips part immediately. She rewards you with another hum and her tongue meets yours in a practiced dance. One that both of you have memorized from the heart. 

The party still is in full swing outside the bathroom but you are not interested. Agatha has her hands on you, she has her fingers trailing down your waist and to the hem of your skimpy witchy costume before she shoves it up, so it's bunched around your hips.

She hums again in approval and when she pulls back, there’s still a string of saliva connecting your lips together, that you want to greedily lick up.

She doesn’t care though, just shoves you around so now it’s your front pressed towards the vanity and your back flush against her chest. And she groans out, “Jesus, you still fit perfectly against me.”

Her words shoot up a different kind of pain in your chest, one you aren’t ready to name yet. So you press your ass back against hers, and she groans, hands reaching to grip your hips again to pull you harder against her.

Just so she can rut her hips against your behind and chuckle, “Ready to admit you still want me or still not yet?”

Your cheeks flush red, either from the embarrassment of how much her voice and her grinding against your ass turns you on. Or from the anger you still feel thrumming in your veins. Your grip on the vanity tightens and you hiss out a quiet “Fuck you, Agatha-” 

“Oh no, sweetheart. I’ll be doing the fucking and you’ll just be taking it like a whore that you are.” and to prove her point, her fingers dip between your legs, running over your sodden panties and she groans yet again, a low, throaty sound, “Fuck, youre dripping, Princess. All for me?”

You don’t reply and she doesn't force you to, just presses her other hand that's not between your legs, to the small of your back.

And then she pushes, down, down, down until your chest is flush against the vanity. The angle is awkward but you don't comment because you know you're going to get what you want. 

The marble is cold, and the press of it against your heated skin makes you take in a shaky inhale, but you spread your legs wider when Agatha kicks at your feet. 

“You’re perfect like this, I could never get this out of my head.” You hear her mumble, as if almost to herself and you clench around nothing.

Agatha doesn't say anything afterwards, just slips your panties aside as her fingers catch your clit and give it a few featherlight taps, that almost make your arch your back. 

“Christ, Agatha-” you moan, and your eyes shut closed. 

“Oh baby, you still like that?” Her voice is sinister and you could almost imagine that wicked gleam in her eyes, and that thought alone makes you gush out more slick against her palm. 

She doesn't comment, just presses herself even closer to you and has her other hand rubs your back comfortingly, before it ends up resting against the nape of your neck, just holding. Just to make sure you feel her presence. 

“Tell me, what do you want?” Her voice turns softer, just a tad bit, and if you didn't know her like that, you wouldn't have even noticed it. She was giving you a way out, you realised. And your heartstrings tugged tight again. 

“Fuck me.” Your voice is quiet, and with the booming music, you're sure if it was anyone else but Agatha, they wouldn't have heard it. But it’s Agatha, and you know she heard you because her fingers pinch your clit harshly, just to make you gasp. “Come again, sweetheart?”

Your hands fist the vanity until your knuckles turn white and you swallow your pride to mumble out hoarsely, “Agatha, please, fuck me.”

“Good girl, honey.” and her slender fingers are running through your folds, collecting slick before they probe against your entrance.

And then they retreat again to rub against your clit. And she does that again and again, until you're a whining and writhing mess. 

She doesn't listen to your complaints or your whines, and when you're sure you are about to start sobbing from the nth tease from her fingers, she pushes one finger in, slowly, making you feel the drag of her finger against your wall until she's knuckle deep. And that has you moaning out loud. 

She doesn't wait any longer, she pulls her finger out to push two back in and then she sets a relentless pace, one that has your mouth open in a silent scream. She doesn't say anything, she doesn't have to.

She knows she has won this little squabble with the way your walls clamp around her fingers and the way you gush slick into her palm. 

She curls her fingers just right once, against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and the moan you let out is so pathetic, she clamps a hand around your mouth.

And then she’s pulling you back up, slowly and quite gently until your back is again, flushed against her front. 

“I know you’re a slut, angel, but we still can’t have anyone knowing I’m fucking you in here, alright?” Her tone is extremely condescending, it's soft but you can hear the mockery behind it clearly, as if she’s talking to a toddler.

But you're still nodding your head, agreeing mindlessly. And that has her cooing. 

You do however realise that this position and this specific angle has her fingers pushing even deeper inside you and all the thoughts, if there were any left, in your mind just evaporate completely. 

You let out a loud moan again, that vibrates against her palm and she has no choice but to press two of her fingers against your lips, that you suck right in immediately, your cheeks hollowing. 

“Oh, there she is. There's my girl. You just needed my fingers in your mouth to make you remember who you belong to, didn't you, baby?” Her breath is warm against your ear, and she gives it a kitten-lick, slow, quick, easy.

You shudder against her but nod nevertheless, and she nods along with you, you feel it. 

Her fingers are still pumping in and out of you rhythmically, and you lose your composure when she scissors her fingers harsh enough to make you whimper around her fingers.

She coos again, mumbles soft “I know, sweetheart, I know”s against your ear and then pushes in a third finger that has your head rolling back to rest against her shoulder. 

You don't hear her praise that’s mumbled in your ear, nor do you focus on anything other than the feel of her fingers, slick, tight, perfect inside you.

And you cry around her fingers in your mouth when she quickens her pace, the knot inside your tummy so tight you were sure you were going to pass out. 

“Agatha-” it’s muffled around her fingers, but it’s as if she hears you perfectly. Because she presses in even deeper, her palm is now smacking against your mound and you don't know how she manoeuvres her wrist to have her thumb circle your clit, but that does it. 

You arch like a bow, voice barely recognizable as you soak her hand with your cum. And Agatha’s holding you, fingers out of your mouth to wrap an arm around your waist, holding your weight up.

Your face instinctively hides in her neck and her movements slow down until they come to a complete halt. 

She gives you a minute, let’s you regulate your breathing before she’s pressing a kiss to your hair and pushing your sweat-matted hair away from your forehead. 

“Still with me, doll?” You nod. 

“Can you give me another?” You hesitate slightly but with the ache clawing low in your tummy, you're nodding again. And she’s pressing another kiss to your hair. 

She separates herself from you slowly, and shushes you quietly when you whimper out. You don't even realise when she pulls her fingers out and licks them clean before she’s holding the back of your knees and sitting you up on the vanity. 

You sit breathlessly, back against the mirror and your vision slowly clears until you look at her. Your breath catches. She’s a vision, her hair all messy and ruined, her lipstick smudged and her eyes so dark, so filled with lust that your own desire comes back ten times harder. 

She doesn't say anything, just pushes your legs apart so she’s standing in between them. And then she’s kissing you again, her lips are hungry, relentless and so fucking possessive, you have no choice but to moan against her lips.

She swallows the sound greedily and mewls herself when your hands find her hair to tangle your fingers in. 

Her fingers are back over your panties and she rubs them slowly over your folds through the sodden cloth. She doesn't waste any time, just pats your inner thigh and you know to lift your hips up and she's removing your panties efficiently.

And you're too busy focused on her lips against yours to notice how she pockets the ruined garment. 

She wastes no time, just bites on your bottom lip hard enough to make you hiss and then she’s pushing two fingers inside you again. You let out a strangled noise against her lips when her fingers start moving again.

and Agatha just huffs out a chuckle against your lips. “Too much?” her voice is mocking, tone back to being smug and you swallow a whimper. 

She pulls away enough to suck down your jaw, leaving behind tiny red marks over any visible skin she could find. Her other hand that’s unoccupied, currently gets to work to knead your breast, and you let out a breathy moan.

“Good girl, good. This is what you wanted, right? You were so needy that you could’nt wait and had to be fucked in the bathroom.”

Her voice is conversational, as if she’s stating a fact and your pussy clenches tight around her fingers. She doesn't slow down her pace, in fact she puts more force in her fingers, and that has you letting out quiet whimpers "You're dripping down my wrist, you've soaked my hand. You're a greedy slut and I know you’ll still want more after this.”

Your eyes are screwed shut but you nod your head, and bite down hard on your lip, trying to silence your growing desperation.

Agatha’s hand moves from your breast, giving your nipple a squeeze over your costume to your bottom lip to set it free, “No, you wanted to get fucked like a whore, right? So make sure you sound like a whore too. Let them know who makes you sound like a bitch in heat.”

Agatha’s words reignite the fire inside you that seems to never leave you alone when she’s near and her fingers curl inside you again. You whine out loud. 

“Youre going to cum again for me.” Agatha says as a certainty and your hips twitch at her tone, “but this time I want you to beg for it, like I remember you can.”

“Agatha-” Youre close already, pathetically so, you can barely hold on and Agatha fucks you hander. Her palm now openly smacking against your pussy and the wet slaps that resonate in the bathroom are so loud that they're all you can hear. 

“I don't care who hears you beg like a whore-” Her voice is still low, still easy, and you lose your mind a little more, “Beg properly. Only then will you cum.” 

And you know she’s serious, because the heel of her palm is now pressing so deliciously against your clit that your mouth is dry. And you have to swallow thickly a few times in order to voice out your thoughts, “Agatha- please, baby-” 

“Not good enough, slut.” She growls out, and you have no idea what’s taken over her because her fingers are deep and relentless and your legs quiver.

But you know she’s losing her mind, with her ragged breath and the way her eyes are closed shut. You know you're affecting her just as much as she's affecting you, and that makes something inside you glow.

“Let me cum, please, baby. Please, I’ll be so good for you- please I-I’m so close-” You know it’s not good enough, not even close because she leans forward so her breath is hitting your ear and her voice is bored, plain, “Youre fucking pathetic, cum for me.” 

But she lets you trap her hand between your thighs and she lets you cum with a loud moan, thumb rubbing digit eights over your clit harshly.

She gives you a minute, until your vision returns to normal and then she’s removing her fingers. Slowly and she sucks them clean one by one. She doesn't look at you when she does that, nor does she look at you when your legs stop quivering and when your breathing goes back to normal. 

She runs her clean hand through her hair, and then she’s walking towards the bathroom door. She doesn't look at you once, just mumbles a quiet “My car’s outside, come.” She doesn't need to look back to know you'll follow her, just like you always do. 

an: if it feels rushed and slight unedited that's because it is rushed and unedited. thank u good night

Mommy!Wanda who would lean in close when she talks to you, her breath brushing against your ear as she calls you sweet girl in that low, careful tone — the one that sounds more like a promise than a pet name. You’d pretend to focus on her words, but she’d notice the way your lips part just slightly, the way your pulse jumps under her gaze. She always does.

Mommy!Wanda who would drag her thumb slowly across your lower lip when you get quiet, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to look at her. “You get shy when I look at you like this,” she’d murmur, amused, tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “Why’s that, hm?” She already knows why. She just likes hearing your voice when you try to explain.

Mommy!Wanda who would pull you into her lap after a long day, her fingers ghosting over your waist as if she’s testing how close she can get before you melt. The air would hum faintly with red light — not magic, not really — just the kind of energy that happens when she wants something but won’t say it yet. She’d press a slow kiss to your shoulder, her lips soft, deliberate. “You always smell so good,” she’d whisper against your skin, and it’d make your whole body tense in the best way.

Mommy!Wanda who would watch you from across the room with that small, knowing smirk — eyes half-lidded, head tilted like she’s already imagining what she’s going to do once you’re alone. You’d feel her magic before you see her move — the faint tingle that makes your breath catch. “Don’t make me come get you,” she’d tease, voice calm, playful, dangerous.

Mommy!Wanda who would guide your hand when you’re nervous, fingers intertwining with yours as she whispers, “Slow down, detka,” like it’s both an order and a kindness. Every word she says is measured — soft, patient, but laced with that undertone that leaves you dizzy. She’d make even silence feel electric.

Mommy!Wanda who would press you gently against the wall just to see your reaction — never rough, never rushed, just close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from her. Her magic would flicker in the air like candlelight as she studies your face. “Tell me if this is too much,” she’d say, though the way her hand settles on your hip tells you she already knows the answer.

Mommy!Wanda who would always slow things down when you start to reach your peak — brushing her fingers through your hair, whispering praises in Sokovian that you don’t fully understand but can feel. She’d look at you like you’re something sacred, something she’s careful not to break, even though she keeps it up filling you up with her strap. “You’re doing so well, sweet girl,” she’d murmur, and it’d sound more like devotion than desire.

Mommy!Wanda who would end every night the same way — with a soft kiss against your forehead and her voice barely audible in the dark. “Mine,” she’d whisper, not possessive, but reverent. A reminder. A confession. A spell you never want to break.

Mommy!Wanda who would use her magic in ways that make you gasp: a soft pull at your wrist, a faint spark tracing down your spine, invisible warmth curling around you until you forget where she ends and you begin.

Mommy!Wanda who would speak in that voice that’s barely above a whisper, low enough that you feel it more than you hear it. Each word sinks under your skin, coaxing rather than commanding, guiding you without a single demand.

Mommy!Wanda who would …hold your face in her hands as if she’s memorizing you, her thumbs brushing along your jaw while her eyes study every flicker of emotion that crosses your features. You’d feel her smile against your cheek before you see it.

Mommy!Wanda who would whisper things in Sokovian that you can’t quite translate but understand completely; words that sound like affection wrapped around power, leaving your heart pounding and your mind hazy.

you had instantly said yes, her response being a tight squeeze on your hand before she pressed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. and that’s why you were standing there, in a room filled with people whose net-worths were probably a 100 times more than yours. 

wanda couldn’t personally pick you up herself because she had been handling everything about the dinner herself, down to the food menu and the table cloths. she was particular about her choices like that. and the dinner was a way to show off to the shareholders and her competitors both. 

you don’t know a lot of details because honestly they bore you, and you really didn't care about what 50 year old men had to say about your gorgeously sexy, hot, middle aged girlfriend. 

but she was still thoughtful like always, she had her driver pick you up. he brought a beautifully long black dress with a cut in the leg along with him, courtesy of wanda, he had told you. you had felt darling in it when you first wore it but now, standing under the chandelier as you look around all the men in boring suits and women in cocktail dresses, you felt a bit overdressed

you had just arrived and as you were looking around to see a familiar face, wanda’s assistant came right in front of you. she smiled but it turned out to be more of a grimace and she ended up waving at you awkwardly, “hello, mrs. maximoff.”

kate was younger than you, different but reminded you of yourself in so many ways, so you smiled back comfortingly and held her hands in yours, giving a reassuring squeeze “kate, it’s lovely to see you again. how are you?” you had asked softly. 

there was no need to shout, the live band playing jazz was comfortingly quiet. “i’m okay, thank you so much for asking-” she said with a smile, visibly relaxing and you realise today must be a big day for her as well, as wanda’s only assistant. 

“ms maximoff said to seat you at the private bar. and she also told me to tell you that she will come and get you soon” she mumbles quick, fingers running over the tablet in her hand and you nod, your smile dropping slightly but you're glad kate didn’t notice. it was a bit upsetting, you hadn’t seen wanda properly in a week but it’s fine, you told yourself. 

she makes up for it by always staying in bed with you longer in the mornings, you thought.  

but still you were grateful wanda never forced you to mingle with her peers. not that you were insecure but because you had no will to talk to men whose major life achievements were their vintage car collections. they acted like wall-street was the only good thing that happened in this world and that irked you. so you chose to not have your paths meet. 

you let kate guide you to the private bar, where you smiled politely at the bartender and placed your drink’s order. this was the best part, you thought to yourself as you took a sip of your drink and leaned back against the bar. 

the people watching, where you observe every stupid thing someone did just so you could giggle about it later with wanda. and that thought alone brings a smile to your face. wanda making jokes along with you always made you happy. 

you're so deep in your thought that you don't even notice when the woman ends up sitting next to you but you're broken out of your spell when you hear her order her drink, knuckles tapping the counter. 

“whiskey, neat please.” her voice is raspy, commanding in a way that instantly makes you straighten your back. you glance towards her, racking your mind to see if you know her but you come up blank. 

her hair is long, cascading down her back and there is a white streak, very prominent in her brown hair. but you can still see the silver roots. she’s wearing a very loose brown colored suit, that is too big on her but she somehow manages to make it work. 

in the process of you sizing the woman up, she’s staring right back at you and she's the one who ends up breaking the silence. 

“shirley temple?”

“cosmopolitan.” you reply politely and the woman regards you with a small grin and then asks, in the sweetest voice “you old enough to drink, sweetheart?”

“excuse me?” you reply, baffled, blinking at her. but the heat that runs up your spine make your fingers tingle. the other woman chooses to ignore you, just waves her hand dismissively before turning fully towards you on the bar stool. 

you quickly establish that you don’t like her. 

she tilts her head to the side, and if possible, her eyes brighten into a deeper shade of blue, you stiffen even more. “ive seen you around the office with wanda.” 

“well, i have never seen you.” is all you say, your voice curt, your shoulders tight and youre sure your cheeks are red. but the woman ends up smiling again, taking a small sip of her drink. her eyes still on you. 

the woman places her drink back on the counter and regards you with what you would've called a sheepish grin if you didn't clearly notice the mischief in her eyes. “i like to work from home mostly, it’s more fun and i can drink on the clo-” 

you don’t mean to be dramatic, but you literally notice the temperature of the room drop, and you feel her before you even hear her voice. 

“agatha, i see you have met my wife.” you hear from behind and the grip you had on your glass loosens instantly. you feel wanda’s warm hand press against your shoulder blade and you lean back easily into her touch.

you can let her do all the thinking now. 

“wife?” the woman, agatha, chuckles, eyes shimmering as they quickly glance towards your hands. specifically, over your fingers and you subconsciously clench them into tight fists.

“well, i didn't know about that.” is all she ends up saying, eyes now fixed on wanda with an easy grin. 

“you wouldn't know. with those failed marriages and all.” wanda’s voice isn't loud, but it’s firm enough. her hand is still on your shoulder as she moves to stand besides you, and you finally get to see what she’s wearing. and your mouth dries up. 

“i’ve been married once, wanda. at least show a tiny bit of interest in my life.” agatha pouts at your girlfriend but you don't see it. 

youre focused on her, on wanda, dressed in an ivory turtleneck, her suit is again a black loose fit. her sleeves are pushed up, and the hand that's not on your shoulder, is tucked inside her pocket. 

“i dont want to.” is all wanda says, her head tilted to the side. her voice is low, her tone flat and agatha just hums, taking another sip of her drink. 

agatha’s eyes were back on you, over the rim of her glass and you can literally see her grin over it. “this one’s pretty cute-”

“no.” wanda replies, as she steps up in front of you. you don't see her facial expressions but agatha ends up giving wanda another pout before she stands up with her drink. 

she settles right in front of wanda, taking a deliberately slow sip of her drink, voice quiet but you still hear her, “you wound me, darling but-” she looks at you over wanda’s shoulder. 

she is taller than wanda, you blink. she winks at you, you blink again.

“until we meet again, sweetheart. te veo” she smiles at you then, a smug yet genuine grin and she’s gone. 

wanda is immediately in front of you, hands reaching to hold yours “hi, darling. i apologize for leaving you alone for so long.” and then she’s leaning down to press two kisses to the back of your hands. “did agatha give you a hard time?”

“hey, no- wanda it’s fine. please dont apologize and no she was fine, she didn-” you reply hastily, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. and when you look up at her, she takes no time to press her lips against yours. once, twice and on the third time, her tongue comes to lick along the seams of your lips before she pulls away. 

you're dazed, and it takes a while for your vision to clear up again before you look back up at her. and she looks wicked. her eyebrows are furrowed but you're not sure if in anger or frustration. her pupils are blown and her lipstick is smudged and shes looking at you like she wants to devour you whole. 

you clench your legs together, quickly becoming aware of the seeping wetness between your thighs. and wanda’s eyes seem to follow your movements, focused on your exposed thigh and her jaw clenches. 

oh. 

oh, she’s very turned on. 

though, when she looks back at you, her eyes soften around the corners, and she manages to give you a gentle smile. “one hour, and then we can leave, is that fine?”

and when you answer with a meek ‘yeah’, she helps you stand up, albeit on slightly shaky legs and she lets you fix her lipstick. she doesn't parade you around like that, still being mindful of your preferences but instead settles you with people you know enough to be comfortable with. 

so when dinner finally rolls up, you thank carol or maria with a gentle smile before taking your seats. the dinner is a quiet affair, though wanda’s left hand settles easily over your thigh under the table and doesn't leave its place for a long time. 

after that, everything was rushed, wanda makes one more round, before entrusting everything to carol. she grabs your hand, doesnt even stop to let you look back or say your goodbye’s before you are almost dragged towards the parking. and when you tripped over your six-inch heels for the second time, all wanda did was pick you up and walk to the valet, ignoring your squeals. 

when the car is here, she easily helps you in the passenger's side, buckling your seatbelt for you before jogging to the driver's side. and then she is zooming out the basement and into the highway in no time. the ride is quiet, the air filled with a tension you arent sure what to label but wanda’s hand rubbing circles on your thigh was comforting enough. 

you don't know how it happened or why you even said it but the words came out of your mouth before you could even second guess them, “i have never met agatha before. she’s new.” 

wanda’s fingers stop their ministrations for a brief moment and if you were hyperfocused on her touch, you wouldn't even have noticed. you tense up just slightly, wondering if you said something wrong. curiosity killed the cat.

she takes a minute to respond, eyes flickering over the windshield before she finally hums out, her ministrations continuing “yeah, she has been overseeing the uk office for a few years, came back just this week.”

but satisfaction brought it back, you suppose.

that's all the conversation you two have for a short while before wanda glances at you, and then starts with an “im sure she probably liked you” 

what?

no, she’s got it all wrong. you turn to look at wanda, eyes widening slightly before you mumble “wanda, no- that’s not why i was say-”

“my darling girl, i know. i know.” she replies, eyes flickering to you briefly before they end up back on the road.

she squeezes your thigh comfortingly, and when she finally pulls up in her driveway, she turns to look at you. “i know, my love. i was just stating the obvious. everyone adores you.” 

and then she cups your cheek. you lean easily into her touch with a quiet sigh, relaxing instantly, eyes closing. the older woman coos and brushes her thumb over your cheekbone, touch gentle.

“she, however. she doesn't get to adore you, because you are mine, yes? are you not mommy’s girl?”

your eyes open at her words, at her tone, just how sickly sweet it is, but also because of the possession dripping from her words. and when your eyes flicker to her face, your breath ends up hitching. 

you can hardly see the green in her eyes, even with the lights in the driveway, because they were consumed by her pupils. and yet, she was still looking at you with such softness, that was so uniquely hers, her hand still pressed against your cheek.

you shift in the passenger’s seat and shit, you're wet. you just can’t help it, you nod, once, twice before you reach to press a kiss to her palm. “i’m mommy’s girl. only yours.” 

and that seems to please wanda enough because she grants you a beautiful smile, her dimple prominent. 

“good girl, dolly. now, please would you please be a dear for me and go strip down in the bedroom? i want you on your hands and knees. could my pretty girl do that for me?”

fuck. you shift again in the seat, your panties sticking to your wet sex. you nod again, she merely tilts her head and you correct your wrong, “yes, mommy. i can.”

she gives you another smile, and when her hand leaves your cheek to unbuckle your seatbelt, you're out of the car. you enter the pin to the main door, take your heels off near the shoe rack and then you're walking upstairs.

it takes no time for you to find wanda’s bedroom and then you start to take of your dress. it’s a bit hard having to unzip the dress but you make do. and when you're finally just in the maroon lingerie you chose for wanda, you bite your lip. the bralette, sheer with its lacey floral patterns and the thong, sinful.

you're not sure if you should take it off as well, because you want wanda to see, you know how the lace drives her insane. but she also said to strip down.

so you take a calculated risk. you keep the lingerie on and settle on your hands and knees on wanda’s bed. and then you wait, five minutes, then ten.

when you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes, you grow restless. your thighs are pressed together and you're sure your slick is dripping down your inner thighs. and when you finally feel like you wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer, the bedroom door clicks open.

your back straightens immediately, and other than wanda’s sharp inhale, she doesn’t give you anything. you don’t even hear her heels clicking and you're almost sure she had taken them off until you actually hear them clatter on the hardwood floors.

“oh, you're so pretty like this, darling. is this all for me?” she asks softly as she settles on her knees behind you, pressing her hips flush against you and you choke out a whimper. you can feel the strap-on she's packing and your thighs quiver.

you let out a quiet mewl, and you have to fist the thousand-thread cotton sheets to stop yourself from grinding back against her. youre sure wanda could notice your struggle because she ends up resting both of her hands on your hips, thumbs caressing your flesh slowly, as if to soothe you.

“it looks like a pretty color, baby, i wanna see it more clearly.” her voice is breathless and it sounds raw but you hear the demand clearly. you roll over on your back in an instant, back flush against the mattress and you hear wanda let out a soft sigh as she settles in between your legs.

“oh, you're so gorgeous, sweetling. what a stunning color indeed.” wanda mumbles softly, but you hear the tremor in her voice, you see the way she licks her lips and you see the way her fingers tremble as they touch the expensive lace of your bralette. and you bite back the grin that is threatening your lips.

“wore it for you, mommy.” you mumble and actually smile at the way wanda swallows thickly.

her fingers lose their restraint at your words, now shamelessly tracing the lace, her eyes running down your navel and down to where the thong covers your soaking folds. and she lets out a quiet groan when you spread your legs wider, the gusset a darker shade as you soak it even more with your slick.

and you notice in real time when her eyes zero on the small bow on the gusset, right over your clit. and her fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, travel down your stomach to press onto the bow, your back arches.

“oh.” is all she mumbles out and when her eyes meet yours once again, they're crazed. your breath hitches and you gush out more slick. wanda wastes no time, her thumb presses tiny circles on your clit over your panties, while her other hand unbuttons her slacks and lowers the fly.

she is still fully dressed but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes out the strap she had kept hidden from you all night and you moan out loud, finally and it’s your favorite. “you wanna be helpful, darling?”

it takes you a while to focus on anything other than her touch on your clit and the strap she has in her hand but when you finally mumble out a “yes, mommy.” she rewards you by pulling your thong to the side to finally expose your pussy.

you clench around nothing as your sex is exposed to the cold air of the room, and you hear wanda spit in her hand. she uses the same hand to stroke the dildo attached to the harness you can't see.

“mommy had such a long week, exhausting it was. and now she wants to unwind, destress if you will,” her tone is borderline mocking, but you know she’s holding back “but for that, she needs her pretty princess’s help.”

and then she’s pressing the tip of her strap just against your entrance, collecting your slick and you're panting, your mind completely blank, hips twitching for more. “you wanna help mommy? yeah? wanna be useful, baby?”

you're nodding, hands gripping onto wanda’s shoulders, her biceps, anything, just to pull her closer, to have her take you but she just bumps the tip against your clit and you're mewling “use your words like a big girl, princess.”

“yes! god, please yes mommy, please use me! i wanna help.” you don’t see the grin plastered on her face but you do feel her press her strap inside you inch by inch, deliberate, all-consuming and hot. and your cunt flutters around her cock, slowly getting used to the stretch, while your mouth falls slack.

you don’t have time to breath until she has pressed her strap inside to the hilt, maybe just a minute of rest. she's the, again pulling out of you and slamming right back inside you, over and over again, hard and fast, making your thighs quiver.

you're a gasping mess, eyes screwed shut as you nails dig in her suit jacket but wanda’s movements only fastened. “god, what a perfect pussy, she takes me so good. she missed me, yeah? she did?”

she’s changes her position, using her knees to spread your thighs wider so she can push her strap even deeper inside. she, then hovers her face above yours to see your expressions, the flush of your cheeks, the parting of your lips and she growls. you have never heard her growl. “this is exactly what mommy needed, princess.”

she puts one of her hands next to your head, the other in between your legs to torture your already pulsing clit as she rubs small digit eight’s on it. and your hips jolt “m-mommy-”

“shh, baby, i know mommy’s so deep inside you, but you take it so good, yeah? you love mommy’s cock?” she’s cooing and her voice is so soft, like a symphony in your ears but her pace is animalistic. you’re soaking her slacks and the thong is a mess that’s barely holding on, but she refuses to take it off.

“gosh princess, mommy doesn’t give your pussy attention for a week and you go to the next older woman you see? that’s unfair.” she’s panting and her lips are bitten red, her voice is still gentle but now she’s resorted to pinching your clit. you yelp, shaking your head as you feel tears welling up your eyes. jesus, you're close already.

“oh, my poor baby, it's alright, shh- you just can’t help it when people look at you. you love the attention; you’re just like that.” her thumb presses hard on your clit, you choke on a whine.

you guess she’s pissed, slightly even jealous and you don’t want to say anything out of line. but she’s not even letting you say anything at all with just how she’s ramming into you, “no- n-no mommy, i’m only yours, fuck.”

“im sorry, darling, what was that?” she coaxes, her thrusts softening to the point she’s grinding into you, the tip of her strap pressed just right against that spongey spot inside you. and you sputter out a moan, “im yours only mommy, p’ease, fuck only yours! let me come.”

“youre mine only? yeah?” and when you're nodding breathlessly, she presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. and you realise she’s probably getting off, the strap mustve been giving her clit the right amount of pressure. so you wrap your legs around her hips and pull her even closer against you. she huffs out a moan.

“yeah, you’re mine baby. im the only one filling you up, f-fuck i’ll make you mine properly. i’ll put a shiny diamond ring on your finger and fuck you full of my cock every day. you’d like that? you want that?” your walls clench tight around her strap and she groans when she can’t move.

your head spins at her words. your body is trembling and you feel yourself dripping down the mattress. you want that. you want her.

she notices your reaction because her lips are pressed against your neck, and she’s nipping and sucking on your skin, “yeah, you do baby. of course you do. you wanna be mine always, you want me to keep you tucked inside my room all the time so i can fill you full of myself whenever?”

and when you moan out, she chuckles against your jugular, “oh what a good girl, my good girl. fuck, you’ll be such a perfect wife, youre already so obedient. you’ll be at my beck and call.” and when you nod, lips parted to let out a silent groan, she nods along with you.

“perfect girl. my perfect girl.” she starts her thrusts again, her strap bottoms out and then she pulls out until the tip remains, just to slam back inside you. it’s enough to reignite that fire in the pit of your tummy. “m-mommy, close” and wanda traps your clit between her thumb and index, jerking it off slowly. you gasp, walls clenching tighter around her strap.

“you gonna cum around mommy’s cock princess?” and when you nod again, she leans to press a kiss against your lips, mumbling a ‘good girl’ against your lips.

she pulls away to rest on her knees again, putting your thighs on top of hers as she continues to give you deep, mind-numbing thrusts, her fingers still on your clit. your vision shatters.

your thighs are trembling on top of hers in no time and you don’t even have the time to warn her before your release is washing over you, racking your body with tremors.

she lets you come down from your high slowly, pressing her hands against your thighs as she plants small kisses on your tummy. and when the aftershocks finish, she meets you gaze with a grin, “there she is, oh there’s my girl.”

your cheeks flush more, and wanda, while still nestled inside of you, sheds her suit jacket and her shirt. “now, that ive given you your fun, it’s mommy’s turn.”

she smiles when you let out a whimper, not yet denying her and she slowly pulls out the strap. she hushes you quietly when you whine and very easily stands up to take off her slacks as well. and only then does your mind work enough to realise that she wasn’t wearing any panties or even a bra. because her breasts are in front of you, and your mouth waters.

wanda notices, of course she does because her smile brightens, and she’s climbing back on the bed on top of you. and you pull her closer, running your fingers through her long hair before pulling her in for the first deep, real kiss of the night. 

she hums against your lips, head tilting to the side before her tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you grant her easy access. she wastes no time exploring your mouth, your tongue brushing against hers.

her tongue traces the roof of your mouth, the sharpness of your teeths, making you release a shaky breath against her mouth. she ends up biting your bottom lip, real enough to make it ache before she slowly pulls away.

her hand holds the base of her strap, and she wastes no time before she’s pressing into you again. you let out a quiet huff, your walls still not used to the stretch but the arousal you gushed out makes slipping inside you easier. and she pants against your ear, “oh baby, you are still dripping for me.”

she’s ravenous with her kisses afterwards because she's pressing wet, open-mouthed ones against any skin her mouth could come across. behind your ear, underneath your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. when she finally reaches your breasts after neglecting them the entire night, she doesn’t take your bra off. 

she just simply pulls the cups down to expose them before she has a nipple in her mouth, which instantly hardens more against her tongue. all while she's inside and not moving an inch.

it’s laughable, how pliant you are underneath her touch. she lets go of your nipple after giving it a tiny bite and then immediately moves onto the other while her hand reaches out to knead your breast slowly. as if she was relishing the feel of them in her hands. 

but a loud gasp leaves your mouth when she starts her thrusts again, shallowly, more controlled this time, knowing how sensitive you were. your eyes roll in the back of your head. 

“don’t think i’ll ever get enough, sweetheart.” she mumbles quietly, one hand on your waist while the other settles on your lower tummy, just over the slight bulge of her strap. 

“you feel that? that’s me-” and as if she’s proving a point, she presses down on the bulge, just enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. “im the one fucking you so deep, love. it’s your mommy.” 

she changes her position then, grabs the back of your knees to fold your legs against your chest and that seems to push her even deeper inside of you, because now the sound of skin slapping is so prominent, it’s the only ringing in your ears. you’re gone. “mommy, c‘ose-”

you think you hear wanda’s whispers, something along the lines of ‘you feel so good around me, i swear you were made for me.’ but you can't be too sure. because her pace quickens again, she's holding both of your legs by one arm as her hand moves to slide between your legs again. and then she fucking taps your clit, the pressure of her fingers heavy. 

you let out a high pitched moan, fingers tangling in the sheets one more and youre soaking wanda’s strap with your cum for the second time tonight. but wanda doesnt stop, she doesnt slow down. no, she just uses the arm she was holding your legs with to push you on the side. and then she slips right behind you, chest flush against your back. 

you love this position, because it forces wanda deeper inside you, and the angle kisses that spot inside you just right with every thrust. “f-fuck..” your voice is rough but 

your head tilts to rest against wanda’s shoulder and she presses fervent kisses to any skin she can come across, sucking another mark just underneath your ear. it drives you insane. her hand is back on your tits to play with your nipples. and they’re oversensitive now because a rough pinch on them makes your back arch. “youre so, hah- fuck- come inside me, please”

wanda’s hips snap forward at your words, and you both moan in unison. “fuck, baby.” her voice is strained and gosh, it’s such a beautiful sound.

she likes that, you realise. and your hand mindlessly reaches back to tangle in her hair. “want you to fuck me full of your cum.” and wanda’s insane, she’s pushing you a little more on your stomach, and her thrusts are sharper now, harder. and you can't control your moans

“fuck, love. you're so sweet fo’me. i’ll breed you full, you'll feel me inside you for days.” and wanda’s rhythm starts to break, her voice becomes whiner and she’s almost grinding against your ass, chasing her own pleasure. 

“everyone’ll know you're mine, everyone will know- hah- fuck baby.” she’s babbling now, and you smile against the sheets, cute, you think. you can't help it, so snicker through your own groans.

“you gonna cum, just from the thought of fucking me full of your cum? you think it’ll stick the first time? or will we have to-to go a few rounds” and wanda whimpers, her hips gaining their strength back to give you answering thrusts, and they're brutal, your eyes leak tears down your cheeks. 

but wanda licks them up, licks your tears to pant against you ear again, licking your earlobe. “you don't know what you're talking about, little girl” and you moan, pushing your hips back against hers to match her pace. your insides are burning and your walls are holding onto her strap so tight, it's making it hard for her to move. 

but wanda licks them up, she takes back her control. she licks your tears to pant against you ear again, biting on your earlobe. “you don't know what you're talking about, little girl” and you moan, pushing your hips back against hers to match her pace. your insides are burning and your walls are holding onto her strap so tight, it's making it hard for her to move. 

but she grips your hips with a hand and forces you to meet her thrusts, and your vision goes hazy. “you think you could take it, doll? i’d keep you on my cock for days, jesus- youre still so tight?”

her breath is warm against the back of your neck, and she sounds almost pained. she licks up a broad swipe of the sweat dripping and you shudder, your hand reaching back to rest against her thigh, the knot inside you tightening once more.

“you’ve gone quiet now, gonna cum again, princess?” of course she notices, she chuckles against your skin, but it comes out more of an exhale “cmon, love. work for it”

that’s all the permission you need because your other hand reaches between your legs to rub tight circles on your clit and your legs are spasming. but wanda plays dirty because her voice is sinful when she mumbles a “cant wait to fuck my cum back inside you over and over, until it does stick.”

and your vision goes white.

wanda slows her thrusts but doesn’t stop, her hips still moving as her arm wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush against her chest. “good, my good girl. youre so perfect”

when you feel like you can breathe again, finally after a few moments. when your fingers have stopped trembling, you lay slack against wanda who just presses soft kisses to your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your earlobe again.

“now, hands and knees, dear. ive heard it usually does the trick”

a/n: is it the best thing i have ever written? absolutely not? will i be embarrassed that its not the best thing i have ever written? also absolutely not. CIAO

you had instantly said yes, her response being a tight squeeze on your hand before she pressed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. and that’s why you were standing there, in a room filled with people whose net-worths were probably a 100 times more than yours. 

wanda couldn’t personally pick you up herself because she had been handling everything about the dinner herself, down to the food menu and the table cloths. she was particular about her choices like that. and the dinner was a way to show off to the shareholders and her competitors both. 

you don’t know a lot of details because honestly they bore you, and you really didn't care about what 50 year old men had to say about your gorgeously sexy, hot, middle aged girlfriend. 

but she was still thoughtful like always, she had her driver pick you up. he brought a beautifully long black dress with a cut in the leg along with him, courtesy of wanda, he had told you. you had felt darling in it when you first wore it but now, standing under the chandelier as you look around all the men in boring suits and women in cocktail dresses, you felt a bit overdressed

you had just arrived and as you were looking around to see a familiar face, wanda’s assistant came right in front of you. she smiled but it turned out to be more of a grimace and she ended up waving at you awkwardly, “hello, mrs. maximoff.”

kate was younger than you, different but reminded you of yourself in so many ways, so you smiled back comfortingly and held her hands in yours, giving a reassuring squeeze “kate, it’s lovely to see you again. how are you?” you had asked softly. 

there was no need to shout, the live band playing jazz was comfortingly quiet. “i’m okay, thank you so much for asking-” she said with a smile, visibly relaxing and you realise today must be a big day for her as well, as wanda’s only assistant. 

“ms maximoff said to seat you at the private bar. and she also told me to tell you that she will come and get you soon” she mumbles quick, fingers running over the tablet in her hand and you nod, your smile dropping slightly but you're glad kate didn’t notice. it was a bit upsetting, you hadn’t seen wanda properly in a week but it’s fine, you told yourself. 

she makes up for it by always staying in bed with you longer in the mornings, you thought.  

but still you were grateful wanda never forced you to mingle with her peers. not that you were insecure but because you had no will to talk to men whose major life achievements were their vintage car collections. they acted like wall-street was the only good thing that happened in this world and that irked you. so you chose to not have your paths meet. 

you let kate guide you to the private bar, where you smiled politely at the bartender and placed your drink’s order. this was the best part, you thought to yourself as you took a sip of your drink and leaned back against the bar. 

the people watching, where you observe every stupid thing someone did just so you could giggle about it later with wanda. and that thought alone brings a smile to your face. wanda making jokes along with you always made you happy. 

you're so deep in your thought that you don't even notice when the woman ends up sitting next to you but you're broken out of your spell when you hear her order her drink, knuckles tapping the counter. 

“whiskey, neat please.” her voice is raspy, commanding in a way that instantly makes you straighten your back. you glance towards her, racking your mind to see if you know her but you come up blank. 

her hair is long, cascading down her back and there is a white streak, very prominent in her brown hair. but you can still see the silver roots. she’s wearing a very loose brown colored suit, that is too big on her but she somehow manages to make it work. 

in the process of you sizing the woman up, she’s staring right back at you and she's the one who ends up breaking the silence. 

“shirley temple?”

“cosmopolitan.” you reply politely and the woman regards you with a small grin and then asks, in the sweetest voice “you old enough to drink, sweetheart?”

“excuse me?” you reply, baffled, blinking at her. but the heat that runs up your spine make your fingers tingle. the other woman chooses to ignore you, just waves her hand dismissively before turning fully towards you on the bar stool. 

you quickly establish that you don’t like her. 

she tilts her head to the side, and if possible, her eyes brighten into a deeper shade of blue, you stiffen even more. “ive seen you around the office with wanda.” 

“well, i have never seen you.” is all you say, your voice curt, your shoulders tight and youre sure your cheeks are red. but the woman ends up smiling again, taking a small sip of her drink. her eyes still on you. 

the woman places her drink back on the counter and regards you with what you would've called a sheepish grin if you didn't clearly notice the mischief in her eyes. “i like to work from home mostly, it’s more fun and i can drink on the clo-” 

you don’t mean to be dramatic, but you literally notice the temperature of the room drop, and you feel her before you even hear her voice. 

“agatha, i see you have met my wife.” you hear from behind and the grip you had on your glass loosens instantly. you feel wanda’s warm hand press against your shoulder blade and you lean back easily into her touch.

you can let her do all the thinking now. 

“wife?” the woman, agatha, chuckles, eyes shimmering as they quickly glance towards your hands. specifically, over your fingers and you subconsciously clench them into tight fists.

“well, i didn't know about that.” is all she ends up saying, eyes now fixed on wanda with an easy grin. 

“you wouldn't know. with those failed marriages and all.” wanda’s voice isn't loud, but it’s firm enough. her hand is still on your shoulder as she moves to stand besides you, and you finally get to see what she’s wearing. and your mouth dries up. 

“i’ve been married once, wanda. at least show a tiny bit of interest in my life.” agatha pouts at your girlfriend but you don't see it. 

youre focused on her, on wanda, dressed in an ivory turtleneck, her suit is again a black loose fit. her sleeves are pushed up, and the hand that's not on your shoulder, is tucked inside her pocket. 

“i dont want to.” is all wanda says, her head tilted to the side. her voice is low, her tone flat and agatha just hums, taking another sip of her drink. 

agatha’s eyes were back on you, over the rim of her glass and you can literally see her grin over it. “this one’s pretty cute-”

“no.” wanda replies, as she steps up in front of you. you don't see her facial expressions but agatha ends up giving wanda another pout before she stands up with her drink. 

she settles right in front of wanda, taking a deliberately slow sip of her drink, voice quiet but you still hear her, “you wound me, darling but-” she looks at you over wanda’s shoulder. 

she is taller than wanda, you blink. she winks at you, you blink again.

“until we meet again, sweetheart. te veo” she smiles at you then, a smug yet genuine grin and she’s gone. 

wanda is immediately in front of you, hands reaching to hold yours “hi, darling. i apologize for leaving you alone for so long.” and then she’s leaning down to press two kisses to the back of your hands. “did agatha give you a hard time?”

“hey, no- wanda it’s fine. please dont apologize and no she was fine, she didn-” you reply hastily, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze. and when you look up at her, she takes no time to press her lips against yours. once, twice and on the third time, her tongue comes to lick along the seams of your lips before she pulls away. 

you're dazed, and it takes a while for your vision to clear up again before you look back up at her. and she looks wicked. her eyebrows are furrowed but you're not sure if in anger or frustration. her pupils are blown and her lipstick is smudged and shes looking at you like she wants to devour you whole. 

you clench your legs together, quickly becoming aware of the seeping wetness between your thighs. and wanda’s eyes seem to follow your movements, focused on your exposed thigh and her jaw clenches. 

oh. 

oh, she’s very turned on. 

though, when she looks back at you, her eyes soften around the corners, and she manages to give you a gentle smile. “one hour, and then we can leave, is that fine?”

and when you answer with a meek ‘yeah’, she helps you stand up, albeit on slightly shaky legs and she lets you fix her lipstick. she doesn't parade you around like that, still being mindful of your preferences but instead settles you with people you know enough to be comfortable with. 

so when dinner finally rolls up, you thank carol or maria with a gentle smile before taking your seats. the dinner is a quiet affair, though wanda’s left hand settles easily over your thigh under the table and doesn't leave its place for a long time. 

after that, everything was rushed, wanda makes one more round, before entrusting everything to carol. she grabs your hand, doesnt even stop to let you look back or say your goodbye’s before you are almost dragged towards the parking. and when you tripped over your six-inch heels for the second time, all wanda did was pick you up and walk to the valet, ignoring your squeals. 

when the car is here, she easily helps you in the passenger's side, buckling your seatbelt for you before jogging to the driver's side. and then she is zooming out the basement and into the highway in no time. the ride is quiet, the air filled with a tension you arent sure what to label but wanda’s hand rubbing circles on your thigh was comforting enough. 

you don't know how it happened or why you even said it but the words came out of your mouth before you could even second guess them, “i have never met agatha before. she’s new.” 

wanda’s fingers stop their ministrations for a brief moment and if you were hyperfocused on her touch, you wouldn't even have noticed. you tense up just slightly, wondering if you said something wrong. curiosity killed the cat.

she takes a minute to respond, eyes flickering over the windshield before she finally hums out, her ministrations continuing “yeah, she has been overseeing the uk office for a few years, came back just this week.”

but satisfaction brought it back, you suppose.

that's all the conversation you two have for a short while before wanda glances at you, and then starts with an “im sure she probably liked you” 

what?

no, she’s got it all wrong. you turn to look at wanda, eyes widening slightly before you mumble “wanda, no- that’s not why i was say-”

“my darling girl, i know. i know.” she replies, eyes flickering to you briefly before they end up back on the road.

she squeezes your thigh comfortingly, and when she finally pulls up in her driveway, she turns to look at you. “i know, my love. i was just stating the obvious. everyone adores you.” 

and then she cups your cheek. you lean easily into her touch with a quiet sigh, relaxing instantly, eyes closing. the older woman coos and brushes her thumb over your cheekbone, touch gentle.

“she, however. she doesn't get to adore you, because you are mine, yes? are you not mommy’s girl?”

your eyes open at her words, at her tone, just how sickly sweet it is, but also because of the possession dripping from her words. and when your eyes flicker to her face, your breath ends up hitching. 

you can hardly see the green in her eyes, even with the lights in the driveway, because they were consumed by her pupils. and yet, she was still looking at you with such softness, that was so uniquely hers, her hand still pressed against your cheek.

you shift in the passenger’s seat and shit, you're wet. you just can’t help it, you nod, once, twice before you reach to press a kiss to her palm. “i’m mommy’s girl. only yours.” 

and that seems to please wanda enough because she grants you a beautiful smile, her dimple prominent. 

“good girl, dolly. now, please would you please be a dear for me and go strip down in the bedroom? i want you on your hands and knees. could my pretty girl do that for me?”

fuck. you shift again in the seat, your panties sticking to your wet sex. you nod again, she merely tilts her head and you correct your wrong, “yes, mommy. i can.”

she gives you another smile, and when her hand leaves your cheek to unbuckle your seatbelt, you're out of the car. you enter the pin to the main door, take your heels off near the shoe rack and then you're walking upstairs.

it takes no time for you to find wanda’s bedroom and then you start to take of your dress. it’s a bit hard having to unzip the dress but you make do. and when you're finally just in the maroon lingerie you chose for wanda, you bite your lip. the bralette, sheer with its lacey floral patterns and the thong, sinful.

you're not sure if you should take it off as well, because you want wanda to see, you know how the lace drives her insane. but she also said to strip down.

so you take a calculated risk. you keep the lingerie on and settle on your hands and knees on wanda’s bed. and then you wait, five minutes, then ten.

when you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes, you grow restless. your thighs are pressed together and you're sure your slick is dripping down your inner thighs. and when you finally feel like you wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer, the bedroom door clicks open.

your back straightens immediately, and other than wanda’s sharp inhale, she doesn’t give you anything. you don’t even hear her heels clicking and you're almost sure she had taken them off until you actually hear them clatter on the hardwood floors.

“oh, you're so pretty like this, darling. is this all for me?” she asks softly as she settles on her knees behind you, pressing her hips flush against you and you choke out a whimper. you can feel the strap-on she's packing and your thighs quiver.

you let out a quiet mewl, and you have to fist the thousand-thread cotton sheets to stop yourself from grinding back against her. youre sure wanda could notice your struggle because she ends up resting both of her hands on your hips, thumbs caressing your flesh slowly, as if to soothe you.

“it looks like a pretty color, baby, i wanna see it more clearly.” her voice is breathless and it sounds raw but you hear the demand clearly. you roll over on your back in an instant, back flush against the mattress and you hear wanda let out a soft sigh as she settles in between your legs.

“oh, you're so gorgeous, sweetling. what a stunning color indeed.” wanda mumbles softly, but you hear the tremor in her voice, you see the way she licks her lips and you see the way her fingers tremble as they touch the expensive lace of your bralette. and you bite back the grin that is threatening your lips.

“wore it for you, mommy.” you mumble and actually smile at the way wanda swallows thickly.

her fingers lose their restraint at your words, now shamelessly tracing the lace, her eyes running down your navel and down to where the thong covers your soaking folds. and she lets out a quiet groan when you spread your legs wider, the gusset a darker shade as you soak it even more with your slick.

and you notice in real time when her eyes zero on the small bow on the gusset, right over your clit. and her fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, travel down your stomach to press onto the bow, your back arches.

“oh.” is all she mumbles out and when her eyes meet yours once again, they're crazed. your breath hitches and you gush out more slick. wanda wastes no time, her thumb presses tiny circles on your clit over your panties, while her other hand unbuttons her slacks and lowers the fly.

she is still fully dressed but she doesn’t seem to mind as she takes out the strap she had kept hidden from you all night and you moan out loud, finally and it’s your favorite. “you wanna be helpful, darling?”

it takes you a while to focus on anything other than her touch on your clit and the strap she has in her hand but when you finally mumble out a “yes, mommy.” she rewards you by pulling your thong to the side to finally expose your pussy.

you clench around nothing as your sex is exposed to the cold air of the room, and you hear wanda spit in her hand. she uses the same hand to stroke the dildo attached to the harness you can't see.

“mommy had such a long week, exhausting it was. and now she wants to unwind, destress if you will,” her tone is borderline mocking, but you know she’s holding back “but for that, she needs her pretty princess’s help.”

and then she’s pressing the tip of her strap just against your entrance, collecting your slick and you're panting, your mind completely blank, hips twitching for more. “you wanna help mommy? yeah? wanna be useful, baby?”

you're nodding, hands gripping onto wanda’s shoulders, her biceps, anything, just to pull her closer, to have her take you but she just bumps the tip against your clit and you're mewling “use your words like a big girl, princess.”

“yes! god, please yes mommy, please use me! i wanna help.” you don’t see the grin plastered on her face but you do feel her press her strap inside you inch by inch, deliberate, all-consuming and hot. and your cunt flutters around her cock, slowly getting used to the stretch, while your mouth falls slack.

you don’t have time to breath until she has pressed her strap inside to the hilt, maybe just a minute of rest. she's the, again pulling out of you and slamming right back inside you, over and over again, hard and fast, making your thighs quiver.

you're a gasping mess, eyes screwed shut as you nails dig in her suit jacket but wanda’s movements only fastened. “god, what a perfect pussy, she takes me so good. she missed me, yeah? she did?”

she’s changes her position, using her knees to spread your thighs wider so she can push her strap even deeper inside. she, then hovers her face above yours to see your expressions, the flush of your cheeks, the parting of your lips and she growls. you have never heard her growl. “this is exactly what mommy needed, princess.”

she puts one of her hands next to your head, the other in between your legs to torture your already pulsing clit as she rubs small digit eight’s on it. and your hips jolt “m-mommy-”

“shh, baby, i know mommy’s so deep inside you, but you take it so good, yeah? you love mommy’s cock?” she’s cooing and her voice is so soft, like a symphony in your ears but her pace is animalistic. you’re soaking her slacks and the thong is a mess that’s barely holding on, but she refuses to take it off.

“gosh princess, mommy doesn’t give your pussy attention for a week and you go to the next older woman you see? that’s unfair.” she’s panting and her lips are bitten red, her voice is still gentle but now she’s resorted to pinching your clit. you yelp, shaking your head as you feel tears welling up your eyes. jesus, you're close already.

“oh, my poor baby, it's alright, shh- you just can’t help it when people look at you. you love the attention; you’re just like that.” her thumb presses hard on your clit, you choke on a whine.

you guess she’s pissed, slightly even jealous and you don’t want to say anything out of line. but she’s not even letting you say anything at all with just how she’s ramming into you, “no- n-no mommy, i’m only yours, fuck.”

“im sorry, darling, what was that?” she coaxes, her thrusts softening to the point she’s grinding into you, the tip of her strap pressed just right against that spongey spot inside you. and you sputter out a moan, “im yours only mommy, p’ease, fuck only yours! let me come.”

“youre mine only? yeah?” and when you're nodding breathlessly, she presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. and you realise she’s probably getting off, the strap mustve been giving her clit the right amount of pressure. so you wrap your legs around her hips and pull her even closer against you. she huffs out a moan.

“yeah, you’re mine baby. im the only one filling you up, f-fuck i’ll make you mine properly. i’ll put a shiny diamond ring on your finger and fuck you full of my cock every day. you’d like that? you want that?” your walls clench tight around her strap and she groans when she can’t move.

your head spins at her words. your body is trembling and you feel yourself dripping down the mattress. you want that. you want her.

she notices your reaction because her lips are pressed against your neck, and she’s nipping and sucking on your skin, “yeah, you do baby. of course you do. you wanna be mine always, you want me to keep you tucked inside my room all the time so i can fill you full of myself whenever?”

and when you moan out, she chuckles against your jugular, “oh what a good girl, my good girl. fuck, you’ll be such a perfect wife, youre already so obedient. you’ll be at my beck and call.” and when you nod, lips parted to let out a silent groan, she nods along with you.

“perfect girl. my perfect girl.” she starts her thrusts again, her strap bottoms out and then she pulls out until the tip remains, just to slam back inside you. it’s enough to reignite that fire in the pit of your tummy. “m-mommy, close” and wanda traps your clit between her thumb and index, jerking it off slowly. you gasp, walls clenching tighter around her strap.

“you gonna cum around mommy’s cock princess?” and when you nod again, she leans to press a kiss against your lips, mumbling a ‘good girl’ against your lips.

she pulls away to rest on her knees again, putting your thighs on top of hers as she continues to give you deep, mind-numbing thrusts, her fingers still on your clit. your vision shatters.

your thighs are trembling on top of hers in no time and you don’t even have the time to warn her before your release is washing over you, racking your body with tremors.

she lets you come down from your high slowly, pressing her hands against your thighs as she plants small kisses on your tummy. and when the aftershocks finish, she meets you gaze with a grin, “there she is, oh there’s my girl.”

your cheeks flush more, and wanda, while still nestled inside of you, sheds her suit jacket and her shirt. “now, that ive given you your fun, it’s mommy’s turn.”

she smiles when you let out a whimper, not yet denying her and she slowly pulls out the strap. she hushes you quietly when you whine and very easily stands up to take off her slacks as well. and only then does your mind work enough to realise that she wasn’t wearing any panties or even a bra. because her breasts are in front of you, and your mouth waters.

wanda notices, of course she does because her smile brightens, and she’s climbing back on the bed on top of you. and you pull her closer, running your fingers through her long hair before pulling her in for the first deep, real kiss of the night. 

she hums against your lips, head tilting to the side before her tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you grant her easy access. she wastes no time exploring your mouth, your tongue brushing against hers.

her tongue traces the roof of your mouth, the sharpness of your teeths, making you release a shaky breath against her mouth. she ends up biting your bottom lip, real enough to make it ache before she slowly pulls away.

her hand holds the base of her strap, and she wastes no time before she’s pressing into you again. you let out a quiet huff, your walls still not used to the stretch but the arousal you gushed out makes slipping inside you easier. and she pants against your ear, “oh baby, you are still dripping for me.”

she’s ravenous with her kisses afterwards because she's pressing wet, open-mouthed ones against any skin her mouth could come across. behind your ear, underneath your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. when she finally reaches your breasts after neglecting them the entire night, she doesn’t take your bra off. 

she just simply pulls the cups down to expose them before she has a nipple in her mouth, which instantly hardens more against her tongue. all while she's inside and not moving an inch.

it’s laughable, how pliant you are underneath her touch. she lets go of your nipple after giving it a tiny bite and then immediately moves onto the other while her hand reaches out to knead your breast slowly. as if she was relishing the feel of them in her hands. 

but a loud gasp leaves your mouth when she starts her thrusts again, shallowly, more controlled this time, knowing how sensitive you were. your eyes roll in the back of your head. 

“don’t think i’ll ever get enough, sweetheart.” she mumbles quietly, one hand on your waist while the other settles on your lower tummy, just over the slight bulge of her strap. 

“you feel that? that’s me-” and as if she’s proving a point, she presses down on the bulge, just enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. “im the one fucking you so deep, love. it’s your mommy.” 

she changes her position then, grabs the back of your knees to fold your legs against your chest and that seems to push her even deeper inside of you, because now the sound of skin slapping is so prominent, it’s the only ringing in your ears. you’re gone. “mommy, c‘ose-”

you think you hear wanda’s whispers, something along the lines of ‘you feel so good around me, i swear you were made for me.’ but you can't be too sure. because her pace quickens again, she's holding both of your legs by one arm as her hand moves to slide between your legs again. and then she fucking taps your clit, the pressure of her fingers heavy. 

you let out a high pitched moan, fingers tangling in the sheets one more and youre soaking wanda’s strap with your cum for the second time tonight. but wanda doesnt stop, she doesnt slow down. no, she just uses the arm she was holding your legs with to push you on the side. and then she slips right behind you, chest flush against your back. 

you love this position, because it forces wanda deeper inside you, and the angle kisses that spot inside you just right with every thrust. “f-fuck..” your voice is rough but 

your head tilts to rest against wanda’s shoulder and she presses fervent kisses to any skin she can come across, sucking another mark just underneath your ear. it drives you insane. her hand is back on your tits to play with your nipples. and they’re oversensitive now because a rough pinch on them makes your back arch. “youre so, hah- fuck- come inside me, please”

wanda’s hips snap forward at your words, and you both moan in unison. “fuck, baby.” her voice is strained and gosh, it’s such a beautiful sound.

she likes that, you realise. and your hand mindlessly reaches back to tangle in her hair. “want you to fuck me full of your cum.” and wanda’s insane, she’s pushing you a little more on your stomach, and her thrusts are sharper now, harder. and you can't control your moans

“fuck, love. you're so sweet fo’me. i’ll breed you full, you'll feel me inside you for days.” and wanda’s rhythm starts to break, her voice becomes whiner and she’s almost grinding against your ass, chasing her own pleasure. 

“everyone’ll know you're mine, everyone will know- hah- fuck baby.” she’s babbling now, and you smile against the sheets, cute, you think. you can't help it, so snicker through your own groans.

“you gonna cum, just from the thought of fucking me full of your cum? you think it’ll stick the first time? or will we have to-to go a few rounds” and wanda whimpers, her hips gaining their strength back to give you answering thrusts, and they're brutal, your eyes leak tears down your cheeks. 

but wanda licks them up, licks your tears to pant against you ear again, licking your earlobe. “you don't know what you're talking about, little girl” and you moan, pushing your hips back against hers to match her pace. your insides are burning and your walls are holding onto her strap so tight, it's making it hard for her to move. 

but wanda licks them up, she takes back her control. she licks your tears to pant against you ear again, biting on your earlobe. “you don't know what you're talking about, little girl” and you moan, pushing your hips back against hers to match her pace. your insides are burning and your walls are holding onto her strap so tight, it's making it hard for her to move. 

but she grips your hips with a hand and forces you to meet her thrusts, and your vision goes hazy. “you think you could take it, doll? i’d keep you on my cock for days, jesus- youre still so tight?”

her breath is warm against the back of your neck, and she sounds almost pained. she licks up a broad swipe of the sweat dripping and you shudder, your hand reaching back to rest against her thigh, the knot inside you tightening once more.

“you’ve gone quiet now, gonna cum again, princess?” of course she notices, she chuckles against your skin, but it comes out more of an exhale “cmon, love. work for it”

that’s all the permission you need because your other hand reaches between your legs to rub tight circles on your clit and your legs are spasming. but wanda plays dirty because her voice is sinful when she mumbles a “cant wait to fuck my cum back inside you over and over, until it does stick.”

and your vision goes white.

wanda slows her thrusts but doesn’t stop, her hips still moving as her arm wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush against her chest. “good, my good girl. youre so perfect”

when you feel like you can breathe again, finally after a few moments. when your fingers have stopped trembling, you lay slack against wanda who just presses soft kisses to your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your earlobe again.

“now, hands and knees, dear. ive heard it usually does the trick”

a/n: is it the best thing i have ever written? absolutely not? will i be embarrassed that its not the best thing i have ever written? also absolutely not. CIAO