#agnes o’connor x reader

[imorynn]

—-> GOOD GIRL ( a. o’connor)

➺ pairings : agnes o’connor • fem!reader

➺ genre / maintains : drabble, SMUT ( MDNI, 18+ ), masterbution, phone sex, somewhat daddy kink ( though it’s mocking ? Am I projecting ? I don’t fucking know. ) dirty talk, slight degradation, praise, nicknames ( sweetheart, slut, bunny, sweetheart, I am fucking feral—) mentions of strap usage ( Agnes’ part —)

➺ word count : 800+

➺ dividers by : @cafekitsune !!

“You pretty little troublemaker, just start touching that little pussy for me, hmm? Let me hear you…”

You were desirous in your bedroom at the sound of her velvet, taunting voice over the phone, it made the growing dampness in your panties almost unbearable. She was aware of where you were, and what you were anticipating. She was more than aware of how much you were waiting for it, yearning and heaving almost every late night as she departed from the police station house to demonstrate to you in unmediated experience what it was like to be mercilessly fucked until you collapsed.

Were you satisfied with who you had become? You, the sheltered-life, silent and bright-eyed succeeding young gal that you were within Westview? Is this what you had foreseen when you studied an eminent career in university and succeeded in graduating to pursue that very interest? Of course not. Though, the hours were long, and the days — while significant — they were crucial at the moment, and if your dating experience during these dull years has taught you anything, it was that dating those your age came with no fulfillment due to their lack of maturity and ability in making you feel safe, and desired. So, you took liking in an older audience — particularly Agnes O’Connor who was frankly not necessarily anywhere close to being stable and was constantly wavered with this peculiar aura you had yet to thoroughly discover, it seemed you relished in being fucked by a five-foot tall ( including five inches if you were to be specific) blue-eyed brunette who was around the age of 51 (or so it seemed) with a maturity and rogue confidence, sarcastic with no decency of your privacy, who knew precisely how to liquify your limbs and render your brain useless with the wet muscle of her tongue, and her smirking mouth, and her calloused fingers, and the sight, taste of her pussy, her str—

“Come on, sweetheart. I know you’re waiting for me, wearing nothing other than one of my flannels you love so much and those ribboned panties you know I like…” A deep inhale was heard from the other line — an expression you could already visualize the moment you heard the faint graze of fabric coming undone; pretty features shadowed by the dim light cast in that unkempt office of hers, jawline tight, pink lower lip tucked between her teeth with a quirk between her brows, pupils practically absorbing the blue hue of her eyes as they became wider, hazed. “Betcha’ there’s a wet spot in them from how needy you are to be fucked over and over until you cry on my fingers. Things are running a little slow for me down here, so you’ll have to get yourself nice and ready for me, how’s that sound, hon?”

The fingers of your right hand danced slowly down to where you needed them most while the other undid the remaining buttons of her flannel. When those spit-soaked lips of yours separated, one name laced with a title resided on your tongue, and it clamored from the pit of your heaving lungs the second shaking digits dragged between your slippery folds from entrance to sensitive clit. “Yes, detective Agnes…”

A subtle smirk laced her tone as she spoke, her satisfaction with the outcome unmistakable. “Good girl.”

In a fraction of a second, the sensation scorched and twisted and ached — you fervently welcomed it, and allowed it to increase. Whimpers and moans crawled your your throat and into the phone’s speaker while continuing your ministrations, attempting to recollect her every action and favor, because fuck, does she know how to work every bit of you with the same raw scrutiny she carried for her job.

“Goodness, bun, you’re gonna make me come with those dirty pretty sounds. Such a fucking slut, aren’t you? Two fingers, slooowly in and out … in and out before rubbing your clit, just like I do it.”

You sharply gasped, digits slowing down their erratic pumps, faint squelching sounds reaching your ears and you felt your own arousal oozing down the curve of your ass, soaking the pattern fabric clinging to you and into the mattress below. Your overbearing impatience clashed with her orders ; the faster you would cum, the faster she would come, the faster you get to experience the blaze of stars and feel yourself getting split open and filled to the brim. It was obscene, ferocious, nearly maddening how desperately you needed her, the extent to which you would go to continue experiencing the way she was making you feel every single damn night. It was filthy and boisterous as you continued fucking yourself with your delicate fingers, never as good as how she did it, yet sufficient enough to set the mood for what you anticipate will be a sprawling, enduring play.

Wet thrusts brought your orgasm closer, taking you higher each time you brushed your special spot.“You’re wet for me, aren’t you? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb with my strap? Waiting for daddy’s cock, huh?”

The deriding, no less titillating, octave in her tone — the nickname — made a searing heat crawl up your throat and spread across your already flushed cheeks. The visual of her mouth twisting into a grin with her hips snapping to meet yours was the last thing you saw before the stars and sparkles appeared behind your lids. The orgasm, fulfilling and ardent, was enhanced by the cruelty of her words and the promise of what was yet to come. 

“Stay where you are, pretty bunny. Daddy’s on her way.”

[heartzfromel]

undercover

detective!agnes x fem!model reader

summary; the nypd has been tasked with protecting a murder target in a high profile case. with detective o’connor being the most attractive in the department, she must ditch her rough around the edges look for girly glamour as she goes undercover. but what happens when agnes falls for the young model? will she love her for who she truly is under all that makeup?

tags; suggestive, depiction/mentions of murder and injury, violence, age gap, touchy agnes, sexist jokes, rio as a meddling side character as always

a/n; i love writing this!! also fyp i imagine tony to look like howard stark

chapter 1 | chapter 2

agnes was late for work this morning. she’d had what was most likely her worst experience yet on the metro, with some couple arguing loudly next to her at half past six, left her keys on said train and wasted twenty minutes trying to find them, and then missed her second train. safe to say that she wasn’t in the best mood.

her mood was made worse by the teasing from her co-workers as soon as she got in, but they shut up quick after she gave them a warning look. she might’ve got on well with them all, but that didn’t stop then from being scared of her. by the time agnes got into her office, it was near enough nine o’clock. she pulled her chair out to sit, and what couldn’t have been ten seconds later, her office door burst open.

“o’connor!”

oh great. agnes thought to herself, as the chief barged in.

“chief vidal.” she nodded, trying to sound somewhat happy to see her. the look on vidal’s face told her it didn’t work very well.

“what time do you call this?” she snapped, pacing around agnes’ office, “i have been calling you for an hour!”

“listen, chief, i had a rough morning, okay? won’t happen again.” agnes replied. she realised she didn’t sound very professional.

“oh it better not, or else theres a job back on ticket duty with your name on it. now come on, i’ve got a case for you.”

agnes wanted to respond, to snap back in some quick witted way, but she knew vidal wasn’t joking about those parking tickets, so she kept her mouth shut.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

“so,” vidal began, pacing around the room once again, showing off a case file, “three murders so far, all highly paid models, all y/h/c, all around the same age, all with the same associates. all the victims were killed by a single shot to the head, and each victim had the next ones initials carved into their wrists. they were all also killed during big fashion and beauty events, and obviously the miss u.s.a. pageant is coming up this week. we believe that our killer is going to strike again at some point in the week of the pageant, so we crosschecked the initials carved on the wrist of our third victim with the names of the girls competing in the pageant. three names were flagged, but we took a look at their photos, and only one of the girls matches the description pf our previous victims. her name is y/n y/l/n, she is 27 years old, and is currently miss texas. our unit have been tasked with keeping an eye on miss y/l/n, and ensuring that she is safe until our killer is caught. any questions about that?”

“yeah, uh, cheif vidal?” agnes’ partner, tony, asked, “how exactly are we gonna keep an eye on her?”

“ah, yes, thank you accardi, i was just getting to that.” vidal replied, “someone’s going undercover. we need someone who could win miss new york. she’s gotta be pretty, but also strong and can keep her cool. so who’s up for it?”

the room seemed to have gone silent. it was painfully obvious that none of the people in the room were overly keen on going undercover, and it was made worse by the fact that there were only three women, excluding vidal, in the whole unit.

“well i vote o’connor,” one of the men said, “i mean, if she wasn’t for the ladies i’d totally hit that.”

agnes shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes confused, wondering whether or not to take that as a compliment.

“jones.” vidal warned, before turning back to the group.

“i’m with jones on this one, chief. she could win miss new york, easy.” another officer agreed.

“i could see that.” another agreed.

“you are really pretty, agnes.” one of the female officers added.

agnes was stunned to say the least. she had never ever thought of herself as pretty, though it had never seemed to bother her.

“right then, it’s settled,” vidal confirmed, looking agnes up and down quickly, “you’re going to need a bit of a makeover.”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

“you know, hon, you really should consider going blonde.” your agent remarked, grimacing at your current hair colour.

“thanks marv, but my current hair colour seems to be making me enough money right now.” you replied, rolling your eyes.

you were currently sat in your hotel room, your agent, marvin, sat on the bed, whilst you were at the vanity, hair in rollers as your nail tech finished up your manicure.

“just a suggestion.” he replied. the sound of emails on his computer was irritating you.

“do you have to type so loudly?” you snapped, frustration painting your features.

“well excuse me for trying to book you another vogue cover for next month!” he replied, slamming the laptop closed.

“you know, marv, it’s getting late maybe you should go.” you sighed, feigning tiredness.

“alright. fine.” he mumbled, the nail tech leaving behind him.

you leapt onto your bed and sighed peacefully. you wanted nothing more than a morning to yourself, with a lie in and no marvin yelling in your ear about what to wear and what not to wear. it’s not that you didn’t like your job, you did. it was everything that came with it. the agent, the fame, the scandals, the staged relationships with men you despised, doing anything just to make the front page.

you wondered if you’d ever be in a relationship and fall in love. out of all the relationships you’ve been in, albeit they were all fake, the men always seemed to fall for you. what you couldn’t fathom is that you couldn’t find it within yourself to love them back. all you wanted in life was love, yet you seemed to have everything but it.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

agnes didn’t recognise herself when she looked in that mirror. tony’s jaw had dropped, and vidal smirked, knowing now that agnes was the perfect choice. she looked like a supermodel. tony let out a wolf whistle and agnes rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head.

“who even is that?” she asked, eyes finding her reflection once again. her hair was down and curled for the first time in what must have been 15 years, and contained so many extensions that she thought there must be more of them than her own hair. her lips were painted a deep shade of red, complimenting her pale skin perfectly. her eyes now sported a flirty set of falsies and a shimmery dark shadow, and she was currently showing more skin than she had ever shown before, the deep purple dress showing off her collarbones and cleavage, but stopping just above her ankle. she looked beautiful, but she wasn’t agnes.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

the flight felt longer than it was, and agnes was increasingly uncomfortable in the dress. she wondered how people wore things like this on a daily basis, it was so itchy. the flight seemed to last longer for tony and vidal, who had to come along, vidal because she’s nosy, and tony to be agnes’ fabulous assistant. they were quite the trio, both tony and rio threatening to throw themselves out of the jet if agnes complained one more time.

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

the hotel was stunning, agnes had to agree. her bag was heavy, and she wondered what could possibly be in here. she had no idea. vidal had just sort of thrown it at her, and wished her luck, before disappearing to the bar. tony had walked her to the room.

“oh my god, what is im this bag?” he whined, throwing one onto agnes’ bed. agnes threw the other up.

“i don’t know, and i’m afraid to find out.” she replied, grimacing at the thought.

she flipped the bag over as she unzipped it, “oh my god!” she exclaimed as she saw the inside. there wasn’t a pair of pants in sight. the thing was full of short dresses and revealing shirts, bottles of perfume, makeup, and what looked like 8000 dollars worth of heels.

“welcome to washington, agatha harkness.”

•☽༻¨:·. ──── ₊☽◯☾₊ ──── .·:¨༺☾•

taglist; @hannah-0730 @m1vfs comment to be added !

[m1vfs]

god I am NOT your strongest soldier

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

WIP Wed— Thursday!

I‘m late i knowww but yesterday was really busy and I still want to post a sneak peak of the thing I‘m currently working on!

Agnes stayed silent, eyes sternly focused on the dark road, only the sound of raindrops splattering onto the windshield between you. And that cover of Last Christmas, again.

You passed a road sign. A parking lot and a phone cell just a few miles ahead of you.

„Let’s stop there“, you proposed, watching the way Agnes pressed her lips together in a harsh line. „You know I don’t like when you drive angry.“

„I‘m not angry“, she replied immediately, and as if to prove her point, she took her foot off the gas, letting the car slow down a little, „I‘m just … irritated.“

„Either way“, finally, you reached out to her, brushing the few lost strands of hair behind her ear. The gentle touch of your fingertips against her cheek had her exhale sharply, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel. The car did a minimal swirl to the left before she caught herself again and readjusted her position on the road.

You giggled, pulling your hand away, elbows leaning on the middle console as you grinned at her. The tip of your tongue peaked out past your lips, giving her a coy smile. „I think you should take a break to … release some tension anyway.“ Your voice dropped lower when you saw the way her jaw tensed. „And it‘s just us out here tonight.“

At the clearly suggestive tone that swung in your voice, she finally glanced over at you, pupils dark. You shrugged your coat off your shoulders, leaning a little further towards her, eyes batting almost innocently.

Agnes' eyes stared at your lips, your eyes, your shoulder, still covered by a knit sweater, but the lacy strap of your bra peeking out, and then quickly back to the road before you.

She swallowed hard, then scoffed. But the smirk on her lips betrayed her, even as her eyes turned back to the road. Her right hand left the steering wheel to come rest firmly on your thigh, fingers brushing over the fabric of your pants so high up, your breath hitched at the contact. That made her chuckle, a low sound in the back of her throat, and she blinked right to pull over into the parking lot. „Maybe you’re right“, her thumb ran lazily up and down your inner thigh, „A break sounds good right now.“

[v3nusxsky]

hiiiiii since today it has been a bad day I was thinking if I could request agatha harkness x female reader with loooots of comfort where agatha notice reader is sad and she plans a date at home for her 💛 

thank u sm

My darling

*Authors note~ first attempt at a Drabble for the great Agatha Harkness. Hopefully I’ll do her character some justice with a bit more practice*

Trigger warnings~ reader is sad :( , um hurt and comfort vibes?

Prompt~see ask^^^^

Recently, life seemed to throw you through every loop it could. Your third grade class single handily siphoned any energy you had from your body come the end of the day. Only then you had marking and other tasks to complete. The life of a teacher never really stops. Your mind is always working a mile a minute trying to get everything done, be the best you can be. Yet when you come back to the home you shared with Agnes in west view you don’t find a reprieve.

Entering the house feels more like a struggle than returning to your safe heaven. Your wife, Westview’s very own detective, left another note explaining how she’d be home late. Again. And to not wait up for her. Another lonely evening would be endured before you finally crawled into your bed, the coldness seeping over from her side only serving to remind you that you are alone. She’s there when you wake, unsure of what time she joined you, you carefully walk around the room to start your day. The same routine occurring for weeks now had settled a thick stifling cloud of sadness around you. It’s not that you don’t love your job, or your wife, you just feel so alone these days. So far from what feels right. So unlike yourself yet you have no idea how to fix that.

Returning home, you didn’t even realise her car was parked on the drive, too busy functioning on autopilot mode after a particularly frustrating day. You don’t even notice the faint smell of dinner sitting on the counter as your wife finished touching up her second surprise of the night. Unbeknownst to you, your workaholic wife had noticed the way the light disappeared from your voice as she called to wish you a good night, or the dried tears that stained your cheeks every night as she returned. So after very sternly telling her chief to eat her ass when he requested she stay late to chase a lead on the case she left the station.

“Darling” she murmured coming to hold you as you let your keys clatter onto the plate they rested on. “You’re here?” You didn’t mean for the question to sound so needy, yet you couldn’t help but relax into her arms instantly. “I’m here sweet girl, can’t leave my girl all sad and alone can I?” She pressed a sweet kiss to your head before leading you into the spacious living room. “Movie night?” You mumbled as you teared up at the thoughtfulness. “And dinner. Now sit. Get comfortable for me.”

Only then did she leave to plate to your favourite dinner, before joining you in the makeshift bed she’d set up, your favourite films all queued up and ready to go. She’d even gone to the extent of lighting your favourite scented candles. Anything to pamper her girl. The movie played in the background as you both munched on dinner before she encouraged you to curl up on her. You adored when she ran her hand through your hair, the soft scratches at your scalp never failed to make you feel better. “Mm I love you” you muttered nuzzling into her chest more, “thank you for this baby.”

“Anything for you sweet girl. I’m sorry I’ve been snowed under at work recently. I’m always around for you no matter what. My girl. You never have to suffer alone.” Her promise caused you to smile and mummer how perfect this was. She is perfect.

[jubshead]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐎'𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Paring: Detective O’Connor (hallucinating Agatha) x Reader

Summary: When your mother gets out of town, you grudgingly accept to take care of the town’s lunatic.

A/N: So this is dedicated to this anon, it’s VERY different from what I have written for Agatha so far, but I hope you like anyway!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my native language, so bear with me.

Warnings: Mental instability, face slapping, bondage, dubious consent, dildo, teasing/edging

Word count: 3k

Date: Nov 25, 2024

Comments are always welcome and if you don’t wish to be identified, my ask is open!

Masterlist

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie @harknessshi @hannah-0730 @diorrxckstar @lady-darkswan3 @neverfindmegone @imorynn @its-chickenwing-450 @seaoflittlefires @anyasivy

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

Wanda’s spell had changed Westview. 

Aside from the obvious altered psychological state of the citizens, the town's sense of community had blossomed and the shared trauma had brought them together. The witch's magic had left a lasting scar and people were empathetic for anyone affected by it. 

Agnes O’Connor, or whatever her name was. 

She’s been a good neighbor for the past three years, slightly nosy, but clearly under some sort of mental control. Lately, though, she’s been acting differently. Your mother is one of the people who’s been lending a helping hand. Buying her groceries, visiting to make sure she is eating and bathing, and despite the odd conversation, she has been fine on her own.

Not that your mother would listen. She is invested in being some sort of babysitter and drag you along. You’ve managed to stray from the role, but, when your mother left town for business, you had promised to take care of the town's loony. 

The day's warmth gives way to a chilly breeze, the settling sun makes an orange hue in the sky and you try to balance the grocery bag while opening the wood door. Unfortunately for you, the neighborhood has a barter system and today is your family's turn to make sure everything is in order. 

Walking in, you take a minute to look around, the place is beautiful and dark, everything matches and you wonder what is Agatha’s doing and what is somebody else’s. You had never stepped foot in the house and it impressed you. 

Locking the door behind you and navigating to the kitchen, you set the bag down on the counter and call out. 

“Agnes? My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” 

Silence follows your statement.  

“Hello?” You say louder.

Fuck. What if she had run away? 

Taking a deep breath, you decide to inspect the house before freaking out. Walking back to the entryway, you glance up the stairs and back into the living room. The place appears to be empty and you strain your ears in an attempt to hear any kind of noise. The house seems uninhabited and you conclude that upstairs is the next place to look for her.

“Hello? Anyone home?” You shout uncertainty, taking a step.

Your head is full of worry as you walk up the stairs. You’ve never seen Agnes after her psychotic breakdown, you don’t know what to expect. People from the neighborhood had said she was harmless, but you had no way of knowing. Either way, even if that were the case, it wouldn’t look good for you if you somehow lost her. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet and darkness engulfs the hallway. Taking a quick peek at the open doors, you face up the end of the corridor, the place you assume it's the bedroom. Guiding yourself with the moonlight streaming in through the open window, you carefully enter the space. The curtain moves with the wind and you relax a friction, there is clearly no one here. 

As scared as you are, you barely have time to process the thought of Agnes' disappearance before feeling an impact against your back. Falling into the bed, you try calming your racing heart and, scared, you quickly turn around to see the back of a figure as it walks and settles into an armchair, turning on the lampshade beside her. 

Squinting your eyes against the yellow light that consumes the room, you take her in. Her legs are spread open, she wears a long sleeved shirt with a boner joke saying: “Bohoner family reunion. Pitch a tent.”, black sweatpants finish the look while her hair is pulled down in a ponytail. Her face is stern and she looks like a complete lunatic. 

“Sit up.” She commands. 

Afraid of an unpredictable reaction, you do as she says. 

The cushion feels soft under your thighs as you settle in the mattress. She ranks her eyes over your figure before leaning back, arms crossed over her chest. There’s some kind of hose head in her hip. 

“I’m curious. What compelled you to break into the home of a decorated detective?”

“What?” You blurt out immediately.

“I’m not playing games, little girl. You better answer me.” 

You fridge under her gaze, trying to understand the mental episode she’s having. Your mother mentioned that Agnes was having some sort of hallucination, but you never guessed this. Does she think she is some kind of cop?

She places her elbows on her knees and leans forward, waiting for your response.

“I- My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” You explain carefully.

“Don't lie to me.” Narrowing her eyes, she stands up and searches for something in her drawer. “You won’t like the results.”

You glance at the door and prepare to make an escape. Barely having time to place your foot down and run, you feel a hand on your shoulder pushing you down and making you freeze when you sense her breath ghosting against your temples. 

“You better not try that. I’m assuming you don’t want to spend the night in the tank.” A glimpse of her hands makes you shake your head, she’s carrying a rope and a silver tape. 

“Good.” She stands in front of you and grabs your chin to look up at her. “Now, what were you after?”

You look around for something that might help you in this situation. “I was just bringing you groceries…” You whisper. 

“Don’t play dumb.” Her hands squeeze your cheeks harshly. 

God, this is the craziest talk you’ve ever had. 

“Look Agnes, you might be a little confused. How about I put you to bed and let you get some sleep?” You grab her wrist, trying to loosen her grip. 

She slaps you across the face, hard enough to leave a sting behind. 

She leans in close and says. “Do you think you have the right to touch me?”

The hit leaves you angry enough to turn and shout. “YOU ARE NOT A DETECTIVE.” 

Maybe it’s time to put her in a mental institution. 

She scoffs and grabs the rope at her side. “Do you know what we used to do to mouthy things like you back at the academy?” 

Your eyes widen and you stay rooted in place, running crosses your mind once again, but you push it aside, it would be worse if she tackled you to the ground. They do say crazy people have more strength than usual. 

She stretches the cord out in front of you and smirks, seizing your arms and tying them in front of you. Maybe it would be better if you played into her fantasy. 

“I’m sorry, Detective O’Conner.” Your entire demeanor changes and you beg. “Please, it was just a prank, my friends put me to it.” 

She has a side smile and doesn't look into your face, completely focused on her task. 

“Oh, now you are being cooperative. Scared?” 

Indeed, you are.

She crouches and levels her eyes with yours, searching your face for something that she doesn’t seem to find. 

“I don’t believe you and I’m not letting you go until I’ve got a satisfying answer.” 

She harshly pulls the knot in your wrists and looks pleased when it doesn’t come loose. Pacing around the room and looking at your bound form, you see the engines turning in her head as you feel trapped in a lion’s cage. 

Suddenly, she grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you backwards. You crash into the mattress and panic, you definitely shouldn’t have played into her delusion, the thoughts of escaping brushes your mind and you curse yourself for not doing it sooner. 

She takes hold of your binded arms and places them over your head as she climbs on top of you. Her knee is placed between your legs and you put your heels on the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up in a vain attempt to avoid the pressure. 

“This is what happens when you poke the bear, little girl.” She breathes in your face.

“Agnes, look-”

“IT’S DETECTIVE O’CONNOR TO YOU.” You wince at her scream. 

“Detective O’connor…” You try out and continue when she doesn’t react. “There’s no need for violence, we are both adults, I’m sure we can settle this.” You attempt to reason with her. 

She laughs at your statement, one of her hands grabs your neck and lightly squeezes. 

“I won’t accept any form of disrespect. You’ll be an example for your friends.” 

Yeah, okay. Maybe that was a bad excuse.  

Her eyes focus on something behind you and she reaches for it. You completely freeze when the corner of your eye catches the sight of a purple dildo held by her. Something inside you stirs.

“You better lick it up, little girl. This is going inside you.” 

“WHA-” Your scream is cut off when she shoves the hard object down your throat.

The stiffness settles uncomfortably on your windpipe, making you gag and cough against it, only stopping when she takes pity on you and draws it out of your mouth. 

“Do you want me to shove it in right now?” She’s a jerk and lets out a smug grin when you shake your head.

“No, no, no!” You say hastily. “I can do it.” 

Seeing your willingness, she places the sex toy against your lips, letting you set the pace for yourself. You take a tentative lick and she raises an eyebrow at you. 

This whole situation makes you dizzy. Agnes’s weight is on top of you and you slowly engulf the dildo, licking and coaxing in your saliva. She looks deep into your eyes and holds your tied hands firmly, pushing your propped heels with her feet and making you moan around the object when her thigh presses harder against your core.

Your body is reacting in the opposite direction, the panic settled into a trembelling flutter in your abdomen, the idea of being fucked by her seems more appelling as the time goes by and you wonder how much you really need to lube the dildo with your arousal pooling in your undearwear. 

“Yes, that’s it.” She says encouragingly. 

She sets a rhythm, leisurely pulling in and out as her lips form a sadistic smile, seemingly taking joy in your predicament as you slowly relax into the mattress, accepting your fate. Her blown pupils draw a groan out of your mouth and you feel drool dripping down your chin. 

She leans down and nuzzles your neck, before popping the dildo out of your mouth and eyeing it. 

“Good girl.” She praises and you grind against her thigh. 

Smiling, she takes away your only form of relief, straddling your waist and placing the purple object sideways in her mouth. The image distracts you enough and gives her time ,with her newly free hands, to grab the remains of the rope and tie your bound hands against the headboard. 

She eyes your pitiful position and lets out a breathy laugh, before grabbing your shirt and ripping it in half. Your eyes widen at the action and you suddenly remember that despite the pleasure running through you, you’re still very much in danger.

Ranking her eyes down your figure, she slides the wet dildo down your collarbones and over your covered breast, before reaching your navel. You look up at her with a pleading face, you could no longer tell if it was whether for her to continue or let you go.

“Ag-Detective, please.” You beg and the nickname brings a smirk to her face.

Thrusting your hips up, you try in a vague attempt to smooth your aching core, she grabs your waist and presses her body weight harder against you. Getting close to your face, she ‘tsks’.

“Nah, nah. This is supposed to be a lesson.” Her hand moves up and painfully gropes your breast, pinching your nipple and making you let out a groan. 

She rolls off of you and for a second, you think she’s going to leave you there, bound and unsatisfied, completely lost in the situation. That is, until you feel her harshly pull your pants out, along with your panties, humming as she looks down at your barely covered self.  

Spreading your legs, she settles between them and grabs the back of your things, pushing them up until your knees meet your front. Your open position gives her access to your core and she looks at it, grinning and running her finger through your wetness. 

“It appears someone has a cop kink.” Even in your condition, you have to hold in your laugh. 

She’s still talking nonsense. 

The discarded dildo appears in her hand once more and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, she looks into your eyes as she slowly drags it between your folds and circles your clit, teasing you. Torture seems to be part of her enjoyment, you trash and buck into her hand, but the only thing she does is grip your hips to prevent your movement. 

She runs the object down your thigh and you feel how wet it is, mixing with the previous stickiness in there and driving you mad as it gets further away from your entrance. Stopping your needy motions, you let out a whine from the provocation before suddenly throwing your head back as she slams into you. 

It stretches you and she doesn’t give you time to process the intrusions before she starts to move. She pounds hard, seemingly trying to draw out your pleasure as fast as she can and by the amount of arousal you feel bubbling under your skin, she’s succeeding. 

You moan loudly, your shoulders ache from the uncomfortable position and your wrist burns from the material of the rope. Your body shakes with the force of her thrusting and your breasts bounce inside your bra. 

“Ag- Please… I can’t.” Meaningless words spill out of your mouth. 

She laughs and places one of your legs on her shoulder, going deeper and hitting a spot that makes your vision go white. 

“Tell me what you were looking for.” Her face closes off and somehow she becomes more aggressive with her movement. 

“Wha-” There isn’t a single thought crossing your mind. 

“Why did you come into my house? Tell me right now or I’ll stop.” 

“NO.” You shout and throw your head back at the frustration. “I already told you.”

“I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuse.” Her movement slows down and you circle your legs around her to prevent her detachment.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” You tell her, your mind is muffled with arousal and you feel your climax getting away from you.

“‘Tell me the truth.” She almost screams and stops completely. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, unfulfilled . 

Your thoughts can barely connect, your head is spinning and you try to find a justification that will satisfy her enough.

“I WANTED YOU.” You shout out. “I wanted to get your attention.” 

You finally settle into an excuse and it seems to please her when she gives you a shit-eating grin, thrusting back into you.

The fading orgasm returns with vengeance, your back arches away from the bed and your entire body tenses up. The purple object pounds harder and harder into you, hitting the right spot every time and making you sob. Your legs tighten around her and your heel digs into her back. The headboard hits the wall and you faintly hear the sound as your mind is overrun with pleasure. 

“Detective- I need…” You blur out, the statement being cut off by a groan.

“I know what you need, baby.” Her voice is hoarse, you open your eyes to look down and are greeted by ragged breathing, hair out of place and an open mouth as she takes in your pleasure. 

Her free hand comes up to circle your outer lips and you groan, frustrated by the endless teasing. Her finger meets your clit and her other hand adjusts the dildo to keep up the pace with the new attachment. 

You close your hands around the rope holding them, throwing your head back as your body meets her thrusts and you grind up against her finger, searching for the edge. All the breath in your body rushes out at once when you reach it, stiffening and trembling against her body. Your hard nipples brush against the material of your bra and your nails dig into the skin of your palm. You go completely rigid and mute before slumping down onto the bed. 

Your fingers teak at the aftershocks, you feel Agatha slipping the dildo out of you and her face enters your blurred vision. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” She asks seriously, her face closed off again. 

You nod vigorously, still bound and helpless, you couldn’t tell what she would do next. 

“Good.”  She says and reaches up, untying the thick rope from your wrists and adding. “Stay where you are, I’m going to get a wipe.” 

Puzzlement fills your mind and you rub your red skin, maybe this would be the perfect time to run, even with your shirt torn and naked half self, but you doubted your jelly legs would take you far. Besides, her mood had changed, she seemed softer and you weren't sure if the change of temperament was her mental health acting up or if she was calmer because of your early answer. 

There’s not a lot of time to think when you hear her coming back from the bathroom, towel in hand. Your breath is caught in your throat and you watch her every move, paralyzed. She settles herself on the bed, in front of you, before looking into your eyes and asking. 

“May I?”

You open yourself for her once more, she’s already fucked you stupid, there’s no need to be ashamed. 

Her knuckles run up your calf and stop in your knee, her other hand placing the white wet material against your thigh and wiping the stickiness in it. You shudder when she brushes your core and wonder if you are catching her insanity by thinking of doing this again. 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to use my gun on you.” She lets out a relieved laugh and points with her head at the nightstand behind you.

You turn around and are greeted by a hose head.  

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Tastes Like Sugar (Agnes x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Detective Agnes O'Connor is your favorite customer and you might be her favorite citizen.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Swearing

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @toomanylesbiancouples @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

@alexusonfire, this one's for you!

The bell above your door rang out in the quiet morning. The sun was just peeking over the treeline, the air chilled outside. You perked up, pasting a smile on your face, ready to face the day. The first customer.

Depending on which Westview native was coming through the door would dictate how the rest of your day went.

“Gimme one of the chocolate ones.”

Agnes O’Connor. Your day was going to be a good one.

“Sure thing, detective,” you said, flashing her a genuine smile.

The acerbic detective was your favourite customer. You made no secret of it. Your smiles were hers as were your compliments. Her scowl, comforting in its familiarity, was a mainstay of your interaction. But every now and then you saw her lips quirk up and you’d glow with pride

“Busy day?” you asked, plucking one of the chocolate donuts from the display case.

“No more than usual,” she replied.

Her arms crossed over her chest and she was watching you with an intensity that made your heart beat quicken.

“It must get boring living in such a quiet town,” you said, “never thought about moving to the big city?”

“Plenty of crime here,” she replied.

You tucked the donut into a paper bag, ringing her up. Those assessing blue eyes swept over you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you let her look, knowing all she’d see was someone dazzled by the big dog in town. No one was better than her. She had a reputation around town. Everyone knew the streets were so safe because of her.

“Not with you keeping us safe,” you said.

She pursed her lips but didn’t disagree. Her phone tapped against the card reader, the ding loud between you. You nudged the paper bag over to her.

“Have a good day, detective,” you said, looking at her from under lowered eyelashes.

She lingered for just a moment before she sniffed and turned away. The bell rang behind her as her back disappeared.

^

“Morning, detective.”

Her index finger tapped on the counter. You let your smile reach your eyes, the early mornings worth it when you got to see her. She perused the front case of baked goods, not even bothering to greet you with more than a raised eyebrow. You lent on the counter, grinning at her.

“It’s always nice seeing your smiling face in the morning,” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, looking up at you, less than impressed.

“Just that you brighten up the place,” you said.

She muttered something under her breath that you missed. You tilted your head, waiting for her to say something else. Blue eyes flicked up to you before down to the case again.

“Gimme a glazed,” she said.

“Sure thing, detective,” you said.

She crossed her arms over her chest, watching you pull one of the donuts free for her. The paper bag crinkled in your hand as you transferred the donut into it. Pushing it over the counter, you tucked your hair behind your ear. She pulled it over to herself with long fingered hands, making you bite down on your lower lip.

For just a moment, her eyes seemed to focus on your mouth. Then she was turning away.

“See you tomorrow morning, detective,” you called at her retreating back.

She raised a hand to you in a wave before the door shut behind her.

^

For the first time in ages, Agnes wasn’t the first customer you served that morning. A line had formed before the frowning face of your favourite customer entered the cafe. You kept twirling from the counter to the food cabinet to the drinks. You hadn’t worked that hard that early in a while but you kept your smile firmly in place.

“Are you always so bubbly in the morning?”

“Detective.” You brightened and she squinted at you, “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you this morning. Too busy sleeping in?”

“No time to sleep in. You know that,” she replied.

You perked up, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Her head cocked to the side, eyes sweeping over you like she was documenting every little thing you were doing. You let her, wondering what she was reading in you.

“Something sweet to start the morning off right?” you asked.

“What?” She blinked.

You nodded towards the display case. She froze before turning her eyes down to it.

“Gimme one of the powdered ones,” she said after a moment.

“Sugar for someone so sweet,” you said with a grin.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the paper bag from you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip again as your heart beat double time. This time her gaze definitely dipped to your mouth. Heat coursed through your veins.

“See you tomorrow, detective,” you whispered, lowering your gaze.

“I like the blue. It’s pretty,” she said.

You glanced down at your blue dress, missing as she glanced over her shoulder to get one last look at you before disappearing into the morning mist.

^

“Detective, we have to stop meeting like this,” you said as she sauntered through the door.

“Not until I find a better donut place,” she said.

“You mean it’s not my sparkling personality that keeps you coming back?” you asked, pouting at her, “I’m hurt.”

“Deal with it,” she said but you could see the way her lips ticked up into a small smile.

“You keep treating me so badly and I’ll stop being so nice,” you said.

“I’d like to see you try.”

You let your eyes wander over her body, thinking about all the ways you could try being not so nice. All the ways you could be naughty with her. Your cheeks heated and you were the first to look away. Her chuckle was low, a raspy vibration in her chest. You shivered, eyes darting up to her again.

“What can I get you, detective?” you asked.

“Chocolate sprinkle,” she said without even looking, “it’s going to be a long day.”

“Nothing the great Detective O’Connor can’t handle, I’m sure,” you said.

You smiled softly, eyes meeting hers over the top of the counter. A scowl settled over her face but you didn’t let it deter you. You never did. You knew you were going to break through that tough exterior one day.

“There you go,” you said, pushing it over the counter.

“Thanks,” she said.

Her hand closed over it, fingers covering yours. Lingering, your gaze caught on hers, the moment stretching out. You wanted to live in it, for the moment never to be broken. It was the kind of moment you’d be thinking about long after she was gone.

She pulled her hand back, pursing her lips. You didn’t say anything, simply nodding to her as she stepped away from the counter. She lingered for another moment before she spun on her heels and stalked out of the cafe. The sigh that passed over your lips was dreamy.

“Can I get an oat milk latte?”

You blinked, turning your attention to the next customer.

“Sure thing!”

^

You were humming to yourself as you went through your opening ritual, getting the cafe ready for the morning rush. You weren’t paying as much attention as you should have, not hearing the bell above the door when it was shoved open.

“You weren’t here yesterday.”

“Shit.” You jumped, pressing your hand to your racing heart, “Agnes. We’re not open yet.”

“I don’t care,” she said, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at you.

“Okay, well, you’re going to have to wait for me to finish up before I can get you a donut,” you said.

“You weren’t here yesterday,” she repeated, hoisting one of the chairs off the table closest to you.

“Did you miss me, detective?” You flashed her an impish grin.

“That boy they had working,” she ground out through gritted teeth, “wouldn’t shut up.”

“I never shut up,” you laughed.

She grumbled something under her breath, slamming down another chair. You shook your head, sliding closer to her.

“Just admit it. You missed me,” you said, hip bumping against hers.

Her arm caught you around your waist, hand pressed to your hip. Though the fabric of your dress, her palm was burning. Your breath caught, turning your face towards her. She was close enough for you to feel her breath ghost over your skin, those blue eyes burning as they looked down at you.

“Where were you?” she asked, voice lowering into something that felt dangerous.

“It was my day off,” you replied, breathless as you stared into her eyes, “I was probably still in bed when you were here.”

Her gaze darkened and you shivered. She squeezed your hip before she released you.

“Don’t do that again,” she told you.

“What? Take a day off?” you laughed, “I think I’m allowed to do that.”

“Don’t,” she said.

“You really can’t get on without me, huh?”

Her fingers reached up, curling around the ends of your hair, giving it a tug. Your lips parted and her eyes flicked down to them. Your tongue ran along your lower lip, watching her gaze follow it.

“Chocolate donut, detective?” you asked.

Her hand fell to her side and you stepped away from her, winking at her over your shoulder. The paper bag crumpled in her hand when you passed it to her, knuckles grazing against one another.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, detective,” you whispered.

Her hand slid over your hip again, leaving you with fire running through your veins.

^_

“Fancy running into you here.”

Agnes shoved her aviators further up her nose, staring out at the crowd. Leaning against the wall in the shade, she stared out at the Westview crowd. You nudged her shoulder, standing beside her in an attempt to get out of the sun.

“I brought you something,” you said when you didn’t get a response.

“Is it a donut?” she asked, sounding less than impressed.

“Better,” you said, “lemonade.”

You held out one of the cool cups of lemonade you’d bought as you’d walked through the fair. You’d caught sight of her quickly, a brooding shadow on the outskirts of the town’s fun. There was something about her that always drew your eye, even in a crowd.

“You brought me lemonade?” she asked, still not looking towards you.

“Breakfast of champs,” you chirped.

“It’s not breakfast time,” she replied.

“Well, you didn’t come in for a donut so I know you haven’t had any today,” you said.

She sighed but took the cup from you. You grinned, watching her down the drink and crush the cup in her fist. It shouldn’t have made you feel hot, but the cool drink was a relief as you chugged it down. Her chuckle was filthy in your ear.

“So you’re keeping tabs on me now?” she asked.

“It’s not my fault you’ve become such an integral part of my day,” you said, “if I’m not allowed to take a day off then neither are you.”

“I’d hardly call this a day off,” she said.

“You don’t come by the cafe, it’s a day off from me,” you said, pouting at her.

“Am I not allowed a day off from you?” she asked.

“Nope.” You popped the p obnoxiously.

She humphed but didn’t disagree. When she shifted, her shoulder came to rest against yours, warmth seeping into your skin. You settled closer to her, watching the crowd.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’m still doing in a town like this,” you said, “and then the fair comes to town and I wonder how I could ever leave.”

“You thinking about leaving?” she asked, voice gruff.

You looked over, catching her watching you. Meeting her gaze you smiled.

“Not anymore,” you said.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I found something worth staying for.”

She didn’t say anything, but her shoulders seemed to relax. You pressed your shoulder more insistently against hers, turning back to watch the crowd. Her fingers brushed against the back of your hand.

Your head came to rest on her shoulder.

^

“Long time no see,” you chirped when Agnes came through the door.

Her smile was surprisingly free of irony and sarcasm. You brightened, our own smile taking over your face in response to hers. She lent on the counter, one elbow, looking at you from under hooded eyes.

“Best view in the town, right here,” she said.

“Flatterer.” But your cheeks heated.

“Gimme one of the chocolate sprinkles,” she said, “I want something sweet in my mouth.”

You opened your mouth but no words came out. She chuckled, reaching out to curl her finger around the bottom of your hair. She tugged until you shivered.

“Have I finally managed to shut you up?” she asked.

“No,” you squeaked.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Just the donut?” you asked in return.

“What else you got on offer?” she asked.

“Something sweeter.”

She tugged on the ends of your hair again before letting you go. Her smirk had your cheeks heating again but you wiggled your eyebrows. Her chuckle was warm and delicious, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Perhaps when my shift is done,” she said, “I’m sure you have plenty of suggestions of things I could taste.”

“Are you flirting with me, detective?” you asked, leaning over the counter, not able to stop yourself.

“That’s quite a serious charge,” she said.

“Enjoy your donut,” you said, sliding it across to her, “I hope it’s sweet enough for you.”

“I’m sure it will tide me over until I can find something sweeter to occupy my time with.”

She left you behind the counter breathless and throbbing with need and a full day’s work ahead of you. You cursed her very existence. And hoped she’d be back soon.

^

The door opened seconds after you’d flipped the sign. You laughed, stepping back, giving Agnes the room she needed to barrel into the cafe. Her hand caught yours, dragging you after her. You went easily, just enjoying the feeling of her palm against yours.

“Someone’s had a good day,” you said.

“Shut up,” she growled.

“Or not,” you muttered.

“Is anyone else here?” she asked.

“I’m the last one,” you replied.

“Good.”

She pushed open the door into the store room, not listening to your arguments about how she shouldn’t be back there, that if anyone found her you’d be in so much trouble. Your back was shoved into a shelf. The door closed with a click.

“Can I help you with something, detective?” you asked, smirking when she lent back against the door.

“I believe I was offered something sweeter than a donut,” she said, “I’ve come to collect.”

“You’re going to have to get a little closer. Might be hard to reach from all the way over there.”

Her hand landed on the shelf beside your head, leaning into your personal space. You tilted your chin up, lips parting. Blue eyes dragging down to them, darkening as they focused on your mouth. You waited, the moment stretching.

“Well?” you asked when you thought she was never going to move.

Her lips pressed to yours, cutting off any other words you might have wanted to say. When you’d imagined kissing her, in those late night fantasies and sunlit daydreams, it had never felt like this. You’d imagined her in all kinds of scenarios, soft and romantic, desperate and needy, hot and heavy, but this was so different.

The self possession she carried through daily life was really coming through. It was commanding, pressing you back against the shelves, digging into your spine. Your hands landed on her shoulders, fingers digging in, dragging her closer, opening under her. She growled, low in her throat, her hand grasping your hip as she slotted her leg between yours. Your hand curled around the back of her neck, holding her in place as you whimpered into her mouth. She nipped at your lower lip before her tongue soothed over it.

“Agnes,” you groaned, muffled against her mouth.

“Hush, hon,” she said, “I’m enjoying my sweet treat.”

You surrendered to her, letting her taste as deeply as she wanted. You clutched at her, wanting more of her. You’d been waiting so long for her you were hardly going to stop her now. Even if the shelving was digging into your back and you should be locking up the cafe and cleaning up. She surrounded you, giving you no chance to escape, as if you’d wanted that, crowding you more insistently against the shelf.

“Taste so fucking good,” she growled.

You arched against her, the whine coming from the back of your throat lost as she kissed you again. Dragging her closer, you pressed against her, feeling every one of her curves against yours. The noise she made was addictive, better than any sugar could be. Your hand slid up under the soft flannel shirt she had on, seeking out the warm skin you knew would be under there. Your nails scraped over her skin, the noise she made gratifying when she shoved you against the shelving harder. Her leg, still between yours, pressed against you until the throbbing heat felt like it would overwhelm you.

You whimpered when she pulled away. Her thumb ran along your lower lip, eyes dark and smouldering, but her lips were pulled up in a smirk. Your tongue flicked over the pad of her thumb. Her low chuckle was throaty, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You certainly know how to deliver on your promises,” she said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, breathless and desperate to get back to the kissing portion of the afternoon.

“I’ve never had anything as sweet as you,” she replied.

You could have melted right there.

“Do you want to get dinner?” you asked.

“Yes, hon. I do.”

You slid your arms around her neck, drawing her back to you. Your lips ghosted over hers, giggling when she tried to strain forward, wanting to press hers to yours.

“I need to lock up,” you whispered, keeping her just far enough that she couldn’t kiss you again.

“Hurry,” she groused, stepping back from you.

You hurried.

[natashashill]

my girl’s a brat

pairing: agnes o’connor x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ filthy smut, use of ‘daddy’, degradation, spanking, face riding (a receiving), pussy eating (r receiving), strap (r receiving and sucking). lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: omg okay! so here we are. nonnie i hope you enjoyed this req it was certainly fun to write

summary: based off this req

Today was just not your day. Maybe you did just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. However, Agnes did not seem to care in the slightest. You had pouted for weeks for her to spend more time with you, and so she finally took the day off of work to be with you.

If there’s one thing Agnes can’t tolerate, it’s your bratty behavior. She’ll have you over her knee pleading in seconds if you misbehave. However, she was feeling rather generous considering today was supposed to be special for the both of you.

It was a near battle to even get you out of bed, which had already tested Agnes’ patience to no end.

Strike one.

You decided to make things worse for yourself by forgoing your panties for the day and slipped on a skirt.

Strike two.

The car ride went smoothly, and your brunch date started off perfectly well. Until your waitress came around, and decided to flirt with your girlfriend. She started twirling her stupid blonde hair while talking to your girlfriend about who-even-knows but you were fuming.

“We’re not ready to order yet so you can leave. My girlfriend and I will call you when we’re ready,” you bit out harshly making eye contact with your waitress who seemed to forget you were even there. She had the decency to look slightly sheepish and scrambled off, while Agnes simply glared at you.

Strike 2 and a half. She let it slide.

You looked at her grumpily before focusing your attention on the menu, suddenly nothing was appealing to you.

“Daddy can we go? Nothing looks good here and I don’t want to stay anymore.”

Agnes gave you a glare before responding.

“Baby, I booked us a reservation a week in advance. This is one of my favorite places. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today but if you’re not going to order, I’ll order for you. Cut it out, I want you on your best behavior.”

That should’ve been your warning. Your sign to just shut up and appreciate what she was doing for you, but you didn’t take it. You merely huffed at her while doing the bare minimum to go through the rest of this brunch.

By the time the bill came along, Agnes had half a mind to drag you into the bathroom and spank your ass red. She settled for letting you enjoy the movie she had gotten tickets for before dealing with you at home.

Her hand rested on your thigh throughout your car ride and you seemingly softened. Your mood improved slightly as you headed into the theater. That was rather short lived when you noticed when you realized she got tickets for some action movie. You let out a small whine, but she shot you a harsh glare that shut you down immediately.

She was kind enough to let you get some snacks and an icee, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to piss her off during the movie. You wouldn’t stop whispering in her ear during the movie, ate her popcorn instead of the snacks she bought you, and kept complaining in her ear about how bored you are.

Strike three.

The car ride home was tense and you knew you had messed up.

You let out a small plea but she wasn’t having it. She brought her hand to your core but when she found your bare pussy instead of your panties, she had lost any control she had over her patience.

“When we go home you will go straight to the bedroom. Take off all your clothes neatly, and place them in the corner of the bed. I want you to go find a pair of panties and set them in front of you and kneel. You will wait silently for me to come up.”

You only nodded, not sure if saying anything would only make things worse. As you both arrived home, you quickly scrambled upstairs to do as she said. However, you didn’t. You didn’t neatly fold your clothes, they were scattered in random corners of the room. You didn’t wait kneeling for her with panties in front of you, you let yourself onto the bed and spread your legs so that she could see your eager pussy the moment she walked in.

Agnes does not take lightly to brats. She prefers obedience and will not hesitate to punish you. When she walks in, her eyes darken at the sight of you bare in bed, but she makes no effort to join you. You can feel her anger radiating off her in waves and you can’t help but smirk at how easily you can get under her skin.

“Y/N you have five seconds to get off the bed before you don’t come for a month.”

You quickly scramble off the bed, not willing to call her bluff. You stay standing by the bed unsure of what to do next.

“Crawl to me slut.”

You let out a small moan at that before tilting your head down and crawling.

“Oh don’t get shy on me now. You were so bold all day slut, don’t tell me suddenly you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore.”

You resume crawling towards her as you look eyes and you can feel your pussy getting wetter by the second. You feel the humiliation from the way she watches you fully clothed, a stark contrast to just how naked you are. As you reach her feet, you sit back to kneel, and she lets out an appreciative hum at that.

She went to unzip her pants and you knew immediately what she wanted you to do. The strap sprung out of her pants and you were ready to suck her off but she yanked you back by the hair just before you reached it.

“You think you can just suck me off after what you pulled? You desperate whore. I want you to beg for it. Beg for permission to suck me off. Don’t even think of using your hands either, you don’t get to touch me after what you pulled today.”

“Daddy please.”

“You can do better than that.”

“Daddy please. I need your cock so badly. Daddy I want to suck your cock please. Please, I need you so badly. I’ll be good for you.”

She let out a harsh laugh at that before dragging you back towards her cock. She gave you a solid five seconds to prepare before fucking your mouth. She fucked her cock against your mouth and you could feel her in the back of your throat. Suddenly, she pulled out and just waited. You leaned forward to take her down your throat, but you could barely make it halfway by yourself.

“Pathetic slut. What kind of cockwhore can’t even take my cock down their throat without my help.”

She pushes you off her cock and you fall back on your knees, waiting silently for her next instructions. She orders you to bend over against the bed while she disappears into her closet. When she reappears with a paddle, you know you’ve fucked up.

“How many do you think my slut deserves? I think 30 after all the stunts you’ve pulled.”

Your eyes go wide and you start to plead immediately. “Daddy please. That’s too much, I’m sorry please.”

She looks at you for a second, almost as if she’s considering your words.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Purple.”

“Do not question me again for the evening. You’ve been a disobedient brat all day and this is your punishment. You will take what I give you without any complaints. If you need to stop, say your safe word, otherwise do not speak. You let out a small nod before turning back and preparing for your fate.

“Count while I spank you, and thank me for each one.”

One. Thank you daddy.

Two. Thank you daddy.

Three. Thank you daddy.

Eight. Thank you daddy.

At 15, you started to feel floaty.

At 20, she spanked you so hard you let out a yelp before thanking her.

25,26,27,28,29,30 came down in a rapid succession that made your head swirl.

Agnes put the paddle down before gently caressing your reddening cheeks. She knew you were in subspace now and had to proceed delicately if she wanted to finish what she started. She turned you over gently after placing a gentle kiss to your cheek, but a whine still escaped when your bruised cheeks made contact with the bed. She gently rubbed your thighs making them spread apart.

“How are you feeling baby girl?”

“ ‘M okay daddy. I need you so badly.”

At your gentle words, Agnes takes a lick across your dripping pussy, tongue flattening against your folds. You let out a deep moan, and it only encourages her. She lets you buck your hips up against her, practically riding her face. She licks another stripe up your core before swirling her tongue around your clit. Your fingers curl into the bed’s sheets and Agnes lifts your thighs up to give herself better access to your pussy. She continues her attack on your pussy, messily eating you out as her tongue licks, flattens, and swirls. Right as she worked you up to the edge, she pulled away. A cry escaped you, and she gave you a quick slap against your core for it.

“Hush slut. You’re mine to use for today. You can come tomorrow if you behave. Now be a good toy for daddy and let me fuck your cunt.”

She rubs the tip of her cock against your folds, eliciting moans from you that Agnes needs to hear again. She enters you in one thrust, and gives you a brief second to adjust before thrusting hard into you.

You can feel her cock deep inside you and it only makes you more aroused. You start to clench around her and she knows you’re about to cum. You think she might let you but she pulls out right before you reach your peak, your pussy throbbing at how desperate you are to come. You let out a pitiful whine, but she merely ignores you. Taking off the harness and rather climbing up your body.

“Daddy needs to come baby. You think you can use your slutty mouth to get me off?”

You let out an eager moan as her cunt appears above your face and you quickly latch on to her clit. You know how she likes to be eaten out, spending many afternoons under her desk at the station. She needed stress relief and you were more than willing to let her use you.

You let yourself get carried away in your fantasies, your tongue having a mind of its own as it harshly swirls and presses on her clit. You can feel her pulsing and growing wetter by the second when suddenly her orgasm crashes over you, soaking your chin with her juices. You eagerly lap at her pussy until she can’t take the overstimulation anymore and pulls you away from her core.

She rubs the back of her knuckles against your cheek, smiling at the way you lean into her hand. She places a gentle kiss on your lips and whispers gentle praises. She lets you settle for a few minutes, wrapping you in a delicate hug and letting you rest against her chest. When she notices your eyes starting to drop, she leans away and goes to move off the bed.

“Follow me angel. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”

You reluctantly make your way off the bed and over to her, where she greets you with another hug as she turns on the water for you at just the right temperature. When the water fills at just the right amount, she stands up before turning to you.

“Baby, go rest in the bath for me. I’ll return shortly but I need to go and clean up the mess and I’ll come with some snacks for you until dinner.”

You let out a small pout but let her go, letting the warm water soothe your aching body. She comes back sooner than you anticipated and bringings a fluffy towel for you, signaling the end of your bath. You let her pamper you, not even a single complaint when she insists on rubbing the special lotion on your red cheeks. You enjoy the feeling of warmth surrounding her, and let out a content sigh when you both are tucked safely in bed as she gets you to drink some water.

This time, she doesn’t fight you when you show the tell-tale signs of sleepiness. She lets you rest before dinner and a follow-up reward for how good you were during your punishment. As you softly snore against her, she can’t help but think how lucky she is to have you, even if her baby is brat, occasionally.

notes: two posts yipee!! as always please send reqs and ill get to them asap

[multimilfs]

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive. 

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55. 

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement. 

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening. 

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop. 

Just your luck. 

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers. 

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her. 

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.” 

“Oh, will you now?” 

You pause. 

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?” 

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?” 

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car. 

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.” 

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs. 

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser. 

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has. 

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be. 

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course. 

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision. 

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?” 

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?” 

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.” 

“Step out of the car.” 

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind. 

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing. 

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.” 

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk. 

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits. 

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips. 

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them. 

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly. 

“Stick out your tongue.” 

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever. 

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.” 

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this. 

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes. 

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known. 

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire. 

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.” 

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes. 

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back. 

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.” 

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out. 

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her. 

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop. 

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.” 

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been. 

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.” 

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.” 

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties. 

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal. 

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants. 

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger. 

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls. 

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.” 

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest. 

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.” 

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.” 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.” 

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything. 

“I am in control.” 

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.” 

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.” 

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes. 

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it. 

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself. 

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure. 

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines. 

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask. 

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.” 

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—” 

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through. 

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground. 

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.” 

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front. 

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short. 

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted. 

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out. 

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls. 

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.” 

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip. 

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.” 

“I made my terms abundantly clear.” 

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.” 

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.” 

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips. 

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.” 

“Prove it.” 

That’s the wrong thing to say. 

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl. 

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says. 

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time. 

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic. 

“Oh, yes!” 

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers. 

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal. 

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play. 

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous. 

You can use that. 

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching. 

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!” 

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that. 

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble. 

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips. 

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times. 

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy. 

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?” 

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.” 

“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?” 

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.” 

It’s like flipping a switch. 

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips. 

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel. 

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.” 

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur. 

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“With your mouth between my legs.” 

“Fingers?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.” 

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more. 

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change. 

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head. 

“Not what I meant!” 

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts. 

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—” 

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer. 

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat. 

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last. 

“I’m going to come.” You force out. 

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut. 

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon. 

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg. 

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away. 

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out. 

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth. 

“No more,” you beg, “please.” 

“Am I forgiven?” 

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.” 

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair. 

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck. 

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask. 

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.” 

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?” 

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.” 

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later. 

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.” 

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs. 

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching. 

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too. 

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.” 

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse��but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car. 

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this. 

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?” 

“Yeah. They should.” 

“Where did you break down?” 

“By the bridge on Old Forest.” 

Perfect. 

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.” 

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this. 

“Alright.” 

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body. 

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor. 

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.” 

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?” 

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...” 

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed. 

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.” 

“Honey—” 

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?” 

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile. 

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.” 

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.” 

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly. 

“There’s no one around to catch us now.” 

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up. 

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss. 

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.” 

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days. 

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing. 

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say. 

“Be good and you can have my cock later.” 

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it. 

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh. 

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl. 

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.” 

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.” 

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous. 

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too. 

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows. 

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.” 

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate. 

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end. 

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks. 

“Agnes—“ You choke out. 

“It’s okay, honey.” 

You let go. 

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks. 

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new. 

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck. 

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes. 

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.” 

“Thank god.” 

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can. 

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight. 

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting. 

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?” 

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”  

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it. 

“To be parents.” You whisper. 

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating. 

“I’m not.” 

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.” 

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.” 

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense. 

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.” 

She nods, “Alright.” 

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.” 

“That was terrible.” 

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully. 

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick. 

“When is your shift over?” 

“In a few hours.” 

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses. 

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning. 

[wandasboy]

A Well-Deserved Break

Older!Detective!Agnes x Younger!GN!Reader

Summary: You are a college student in Westview who somehow keeps running into Chief Detective Agnes. She knows about the little crush you have on her, but you don’t need to know that… yet.

Tags: Age gap, gn!reader, no use of y/n, Agnes calling reader pet names, fluff, pining.

Word count: 950

A/N: This is my first fic I've written in years, so I hope it's alright. Beta read. Would love to know your thoughts!

The atmosphere of the cafe was cozy enough, with its pale-yellow lights, worn-in booths and a faint scent of burnt coffee. You refused to study in the library on campus as there were too many people and had found you work better outside of your room. These two factors are what brought you to the cafe you currently sit in. It has just enough noise for you to be able to focus. 

You have been sipping on a latte and writing a paper for the past two hours when you hear the bell above the doors jingle. Normally you would have kept working, but this time something made you turn and look. You watch as Chief Detective Agnes O’Connor walks in, paying far too much attention to the way her jeans fit her hips and ass and partially unbuttoned blue flannel. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a bit of a crush on her. She was bossy, irritable, and stern and damn it was hot. 

“Coffee, black.” You hear her say in her raspy voice. She sets a few bucks down on the counter and leans against it, waiting. As she waits, she scans the place, noting the occupants. When she glances over to you, you realize she caught you and quickly look away. 

She smirks, grabs the fresh coffee that was just brought up, and walks over to your booth. “Third night in a row you’ve been here, must be working on something important.” 

You pretend to be typing, not looking at her when you respond, “Uh, yeah, a big paper due Friday.” 

“A pretty doll like you should be enjoying themselves, doing something fun. When was the last time you took a break?” You can practically hear the smirk on her face as she spoke. You blush at the pet name she used, finally looking up at her. “How about you come for a little ride with me?” 

She is leaning over your table now, staring at you, waiting for a response. You have a hard time focusing when her opened shirt is in such close proximity to your wandering eyes. You stumble over your words at her offer trying to brush off the hint in her words, “I- uh, sure, but aren’t you on duty?” 

She chuckles and reaches her hand out to you and winks, “Nobody has to know sweetheart.” 

You had only just recovered from the first name she called you, and here she is calling you sweetheart. Your knees would have probably given out if you weren’t currently sitting. You shyly smile at her, closing your laptop and taking her hand. “Oh, what about my stuff, nobody will take it right?” With how flustered you were, you hadn’t even thought about packing up your things. 

“Not while I’m around babydoll,” she grins, pulling you up and through the door. 

She walks you to her patrol car, taking you to the passenger side and opening the door. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I blush, stepping into the car. 

She stays outside the car watching you, “Oh hush, let me take care of you.” She closes the door and walks over to her side, getting in. 

It is silent for the first few minutes when Agnes glances over to you, “So, you dating anyone?” 

You are completely caught off guard at her question. Your face flushes and you look down to your hands fidgeting in your lap. “N-no” you say quietly. 

Seconds tick by when she shifts her hands on the steering wheel, “Any reason why? You can’t tell me people aren’t tripping over themselves to get to you.” 

You can’t tell if she’s being genuine or just teasing. You think about her question. To be honest, you hadn’t even given anyone in your classes a second glance. There was a short period where you had a crush on a pretty redhead professor whose green eyes haunted your waking thoughts, but that was a few semesters ago. Now that you thought about it, you realized you may truly have a thing for older women. Agnes doesn’t need to know that information though. 

Given your lack of response, Agnes speaks up again, “Didn’t mean to pry, doll, just figured I’d ask.” She now has one hand on the wheel and the other arm leaning on the center console. You could feel warmth radiating off of her. 

“No it’s okay, sorry I didn’t respond. I guess I just don’t find myself interested in anyone in my classes.” You thought that was a good enough answer. 

As she rounded the corner leading back to the cafe, she turned to you, her interest piqued. “So you’ve got an interest in someone outside of school then?” 

You feel her eyes on you as she pulls into the parking lot. You glance in her direction, “I–, uh–.” You feel the heat rush to your face and hear her quietly laugh to herself. 

“Well, we’re here. Don’t overwork yourself now, understand?” She says with a stern look. 

Taking this as your cue to leave, you open the door and step out. “Yes, Chief. Thank you… for this.” 

“Of course! Goodnight sweetheart.” She watches you walk back to the entrance of the cafe, turning around and waving goodbye to her. She smirks, knowing she just found herself a new pet. 

[heartzfromel]

Anges is a detective and must work with his ex?Reader must make a suspect speak and play a little of his charm Agatha sees red (happy ending)

i love you, i’m sorry

detective!agnes x fem!ex wife!reader

tags; agnes and reader kinda hate each other, touchy agnes, possessive agnes, arguing, rio being nosy, making out, drinking, jealous agnes, idiots in love, happy ending, reader teasing agnes, detective reader

“oh, and agnes?” the chief of westview’s police department spoke, propped up against the detective’s office doorframe.

“uh-huh?” she replied, not fully paying attention as she flicked through her case file for what seemed to be the eight hundredth time today.

“since the murders have been happening in both westview and eastview they wanted to bring someone from eastview over to assist with your investigation.” he explained, almost carefully.

“yeah, fine, whatever.” agnes answered, expecting him to leave, but the chief made no effort to move.

“something wrong, chief?” she asked, confusion and irritation lacing her tone, she really wanted to get back to her work.

“not exactly, i’m just not too sure you’re going to be too happy with who’s been sent over.”

“and why would that be?” anges pressed, shifting in her seat.

“well, it’s just, she’s-“ the chief began, struggling to find the words.

“right here.” you smirked, clicking your tongue as you finished his sentence for him.

the chief left the room instantly, and you kicked the door closed behind you, making your way over to the woman in front of you.

the look on agnes’ face was priceless. her jaw seemed to drop just about as much as her stomach did as she stared at her ex wife for the first time in a year, and she fought with herself to show some form of composure. you wouldn’t be surprised if she got up and started looking for cameras, wondering if vidal was up to her antics again, trying to play some sick joke on her.

“agnes, been a while.” you spoke, maintaining eye contact as you sat yourself onto her desk. as you got comfortable it became painfully obvious that the skirt you had chosen was absolutely the wrong one to wear today. you could’ve sworn it was longer when it was in the wardrobe this morning. agnes’ breath hitched, as she shifted in her seat, leaning back slightly. you bit your lip as you watched her eyes trail down you, and then all of a sudden she seemed to realise what she was doing, and her eyes were on yours once again.

“y/l/n” she answered, dropping eye contact as she attempted pick up her file again, freezing as she accidentally grazed your thigh when she picked it up.

“what has gotten you all worked up, detective?” you teased, smirking as you took the file from her hands, before giving it a read yourself.

“all the fresh blood,” she started, looking back up at you once again, “all the pretty young things like you who think they can control the whole investigation because they did good on one case that, as it just so happens, was a fluke. that’s what’s got me all worked up, detective.” she spoke, as she leaned in closer to you.

“mm, agnes, don’t you worry about me trying to control anything, we both know that’s your area of expertise.” you answered, your noses almost touching.

agnes took a deep breath as she pulled away from you, taking the file into her hands once again. “we’re going out.” she exclaimed abruptly, grabbing her coat and waiting expectantly at the door for you as you hurried to keep up with her. you couldn’t help but smile, as it reminded you of this time last year, where “we’re going out” meant that the two of you would sneak out of work for food or just an hour of time together. you missed that. you missed her.

working with agnes so far had been hell, and you weren’t shy about letting her know. it was either constant bickering or total silence at all times, and she always had to know more than you, because obviously you were stupid and she wasn’t.

you had been working together for a week now. “agnes, can we stop at the gas station on the way back?” you asked, trying to be as civil as possible with her.

“and why would we be doing that?” she replied, fingers tapping on the wheel. you couldn’t help but admire them as she glared at you, expecting an answer. it took you a total of eight seconds to realise you were staring.

“i gotta get my dinner,” you began, “the motel has terrible cooking appliances so i just get what i can from the gas station instead.”

agnes suddenly felt a pang of sympathy go through her. “you’ve been eating gas station food all week in that dusty motel?”

“i mean yeah, its the police department, not the fbi, we don’t have the funds for luxury.” you giggled.

“come over tonight.” agnes blurted out, eyes never leaving you.

“i- what?” you stuttered, her words shocking you.

“i’ll make dinner, i mean.” she rambled, realising the implications of her words, “no one should be eating anything out of that gas station, its disgusting.” she joked.

“okay then.” you answered, smiling a real smile for the first time since you left eastview.

if there was one thing you never forgot about agnes, it was how rancid her cooking tasted when you first started coming over. but that was over five years ago, and you had helped her improve over time. now whatever she made was cooked to perfection and tasted incredible. you couldn’t help but smile as she unlocked her door, urging you inside. it reminded you of when you were hers, you missed it. if only she knew how you still longed for her, how she was the only thing you ever thought about, how whenever you were with other partners you’d imagine it was her, because no one ever made you feel the way she did.

“make yourself at home.” she spoke, you could tell she was nervous. you smiled sadly at her words, sitting on the couch you used to sit on every night, whilst she pattered about the kitchen organising ingredients and acting like you’d never lived there. like she hadn’t had you on the kitchen counter every night, like she didn’t kiss you for the first time at her front door, like you hadn’t slept in that bed with her every night and woke up with her every morning, like she hadn’t proposed to you on the very sofa you were sat on right now.

all the reminiscing seemed to have taken more time than you thought it would, because agnes was now putting two plates on the table, along with a case of beer. “dinner’s up.” she smiled as you sat down.

you watched her eyes widen as you popped open one of the beers and began to drink it. she knew you hated the stuff, but you knew damn well you were going to need it tonight. “thirsty?” she smirked as you practically guzzled the stuff. “mm” was all you could reply with.

you slowly brought the spaghetti that she had made up to your mouth before tasting it. you made a sound of pleasure as you had been hungry for the last two hours, and that did not go unnoticed by agnes, her eyes widened and she shifted around in her seat, before taking a swig of her own beer.

“good?” she asked you, fidgeting with her hands.

“incredible.” you answered, smiling at her.

“learned from the best.” she grinned.

after you had finished up, you both sat on the couch, the tv on for background noise, the pair of you swigging beers. there was now only one left in the case, and both of you were getting tipsy. you don’t remember when it happened, but you were both incredibly close to each other. deciding to test the waters, you rested your head on her shoulder. you felt agnes let out a sigh as she draped her arm around you. you leaned into her, looking up at her face as she looked down at yours. there was a long pause as you both began to realise what was happening.

“agnes.” you whispered.

“yeah?” she answered softly.

“what happened to us?” you asked, the tone of your voice clearly doing something for agnes, whose pupils were now fully dilated.

“i don’t know, honey, i don’t know.” she answered, stroking your hair.

you don’t know how it started happening, but the two of you both began to lean in. your lips brushed together slightly before you hesitated, but agnes didn’t have the ssme self control as you, as she grabbed your face with her hands and pressed her lips against yours, sighing in what seemed to be relief. she started out soft with you, but soon enough she was kissing you hard and rough. her hands slid down to your waist amd before you knew what was happening she had pulled you into her lap. she gripped your waist hard with one hand and dragged the other up your body soft and slow.

she bit your bottom lip harshly, and your mouth opened slightly, her tongue slipping in as she swallowed the moan that left yours. her lips began to trail sown your neck as she bit under your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. needing more, you rolled your hips against her.

“agnes, please.” you mumbled against her lips, causing her to let out a loud groan.

“baby, we can’t, you know we can’t.” she whispered, her hands now on your face.

“why not?” you whined.

“because, look at the state of us.” she pressed. she was right, neither of you were in your right minds right now.

“let’s go to bed, hm baby?” she suggested, hands steady on your waist.

“okay, lets go.” you mumbled, as she lifted you from her lap.

not sharing the bed wasn’t even a question, and you were glad. you were glad that she still felt comfortable around you.

“goodnight, y/n.” agnes whispered softly.

“goodnight, agnes.” you replied.

the next morning, you woke up with possibly the worst headache you’d ever had, made worse by your phone alarm blaring in your ear. much to your disappointment, the bed was empty. on the nightstand was a glass of water aspirin, which you took gratefully and got dressed for work. you were glad you always brought extra clothes with you everywhere, or some questions would definitely be raised at work. as you went to get a look at your hair in the mirror, you gasped at the sight of yourself, hurrying to grab your makeup bag in order to cover up the mess agnes had made of your neck. thankfully, you were particularly skilled at that sort of thing, and now no one would be any of the wiser.

when you got downstairs, agnes sat waiting at the kitchen counter.

“took you long enough. we’re gonna be late.” she spoke. you would’ve teased her or made a joke but her tone was telling you she was not happy today, so you just apologised and made your way to the car. she didn’t talk to you for the whole car journey, and didnt even acknowledge you when you got to work.

you were supposed to be interviewing a suspect today, some creep who was particularly into lady cops who fit ypur description, so you weren’t exactly jumping for joy at the thought, but whatever got the job done. you fixed your lipstick and undid a few buttons on your shirt before throwing your hair around, shooting one last glance at agatha, and her colleague, rio vidal, who gave you a reassuring smile, before walking in.

the whole interview, you got to the point with your questions, whilst also acting like a total klutz.

it was going fine, you were flirting with the suspect, landing little touches on his arm and giving him the eyes the whole time. vidal had to hand it to you, you were quite the actress. she smirked to herself as her eyes found agnes, who seemed to be seconds away from running in there and hitting the guy. you had decided to make the mistake on glancing at the glass, your eyes meeting agnes even though you couldn’t see her, and then leaning over the suspect, subtly showing a little chest to get him to talk. that was it, apparently. you heard a loud bang outside, which just so happened you be agnes slamming her hand on the table, before the door jolted open.

“that’s it!” she spat, grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and dragging you out. vidal smirked, raising her eyebrows as you yelled at your ex wife and she just grunted in protest, dragging you into her office, slamming the door behind you.

“agnes, what are you-“ you began, but were quickly interrupted.

“what the hell was that?” she spat, seething as her grip tightened.

“what was what, agnes?” you yelled back at her, confusion painting your features.

“that little stunt you pulled with the suspect.” she replied, looking at you as if you were stupid.

“i’m doing my job agnes.” you answered in shock.

“oh and showing yourself off like some prize is your job now, is it? i’ll tell you, if i checked the protocall for interrogations i doubt i’d find that in there, y/n.” she began, yelling at you by the end of the sentence.

“why do you care so much, agnes?” you yelled back.

“because you’re mine.” she answered, teeth gritted together as she walked you into the door, leaving no space between you as she leaned into you.

“agnes, stop.”

“why? you were begging for it last night.” she mumbled. you knew she was too far gone already, and you had to snap her out of it, but you couldn’t help the noise that escaped your throat at her words.

“agnes.” you spoke, timidly as if not to upset her.

“hm?” she answered, eyes meeting yours as she removed her head from resting on your shoulder.

“stop,” you spoke, voice firm, as you pulled her face into your hands, “we can’t keep doing this.” you whispered, as much as it pained you to do so.

“yes we can.” she answered, leaning into your touch as if she hadn’t had any for years.

“no we can’t.” you told her, as one hand went to her hair, in muscle memory. she put her hands on your waist as she slowly guided you over so she could sit down. you were now standing in between her legs as her hands ran up and down her sides.

“why are you just throwing this away, y/n?” she whined, pulling you onto her lap once again. you couldn’t find it in yourself to protest, she knew you wanted her just as much as she wanted you, she could see right through you.

“i didn’t throw anything away, agnes. you threw everything away when you left me.” you mumbled, shying away from her tough as her hands reached your neck and face. this had seemed to calm her down.

“and it was the worst thing i’ve ever done.” she confessed, avoiding eye contact.

“what?” you whispered, pulling her face so she’d look at you.

“i mean it, y/n. leaving you is my biggest regret. i hate myself for it, and i’m so, so sorry.” she rambled.

“agnes, don’t apologise, work was stressing you out, and we wanted different things, it happens.”

“it shouldn’t have happened to us. i’m so sorry i ignored you, and i’m sorry that the only thing we seemed to do together was fight, and i’m sorry-“

“agnes, stop. it’s in the past now.”

“what i’m trying to say is that i don’t want us to be in the past. i miss you, y/n, every day.” she was looking at you like you were everything she had ever wanted, and you believed her.

“agnes, i-“ you began, but you were quickly cut off.

“last night was the first time i felt truly happy since i left. you know that, right?” she whispered, both hands rubbing your neck.

“agnes…” her name came out strained, as she pressed down slightly.

“please, y/n. one chance.” she begged.

“i promise, baby, i’ll never leave you again, i p-“

you melted at the nickname, and your lips were on hers before she could finish her sentence, leaning back as she repositioned you on her lap, her hands gripping your waist, hard. the kiss was different from the ome from last night, fuelled with more passion and emotion.

“mm, agnes.” you gasped, her swallowing your moan, “i missed you.”

she laughed lightly into the kiss as one hand travelled further down, “i missed you too, baby.”

she was about to get you up onto the table when the door burst open, vidal storming in.

“you happy now, o’connor?” she yelled, not paying attention to anything that was happening.

“you have really got to get your priorities straight, she was doing her job for god’s sake, and- oh my god.” she whispered that last part as she suddenly took in her surroundings, “i am so sorry.” she giggled, leaving the room as quickly as possible. agnes let out a sigh as you giggled into her, arms wrapped around her neck as you placed a peck to her lips.

“lets finish this at home, shall we?” you smiled, as she shook her head, finally letting out a laugh.

[heartzfromel]

hey guys pls can someone request some detective agatha or write some pls pls pls 😆😆😆 pls request guys

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Stolen Treasures (Pirate!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: When a mysterious woman surprises you in your father's garden late at night, you weren't expecting to meet a pirate captain. You certainly weren't expecting to find her so alluring. And you certainly weren't expecting to want her enough to run away from your perfect life to join her.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: none

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly

A nighttime walk in the garden was typically frowned upon by your father, but the air was heavy and hot, licking at your skin until you were drenched in sweat. Slipping out of bed, you moved on bare feet from shadow to shadow, avoiding the silvery moonlight begging to catch you. Your father’s men were stationed through the house, facing the windows, standing guard against the forces that might try to invade your home.

The sea breeze was a relief against your skin when you managed to sneak out into the garden. The salt on the air was familiar, a comforting hug after the night of tossing and turning under the heavy quilt you’d been forced under hours ago. Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. Your fingertips trailed over the soft petals of the roses your father had had planted, soothing after the heat of the night.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to find something so beautiful in this garden.”

Your eyes snapped open, your previous calm fleeing faster than you thought was possible. A hand clutched over your heart, you felt it thundering, loud in your ears. Stepping out of the shadows, like a demon from your most tempting dreams, a beautiful woman was grinning at you. Black hair half pinned, curling around her face, large blue eyes swept over your body. Your thin nightdress suddenly felt too flimsy to hold up under scrutiny.

Her own dress was as dark as her hair, cinched in at the waist, neckline lower than anything your father would ever let you wear. You found yourself staring. Her skin was pale, almost glowing in the moonlight, and you were given over to the sudden thought of running your fingertips over it just as you had with the roses. You could imagine her skin would be just as soft under your touch.

“Our roses are beautiful,” you said, as if that was a reasonable response to a stranger lurking in your garden in the middle of the night.

“And yet they still don’t come close to comparing to your,” she said.

“Who are you?” you managed to ask.

She took your hand, palm warm. Lips pressed to the back of your fingers, lingering longer than was appropriate. Looking up at you from where she was bowed over your hand, her blue eyes were twinkling, lips curled up in a small smile. Your heart skipped a beat, breath stilling in your chest, suspended in the moment.

“Agnes,” she replied, straightening up, breaking the spell, “Agnes O’Connor.”

Your brow furrowed. It didn’t feel right, the name, like she’d slipped on a skin that didn’t quite fit. Too loose. It wasn’t right but to suggest to her face within moments of meeting her that she was lying was horribly impolite.

Not that you thought the usual rules applied to a woman you met in your garden in the dead of night in your nightdress.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

A smile unfurled over her face and her eyes swept over you again. You shivered, curling your arms around your body. There was something about her gaze that set your blood on fire, a feeling you weren’t familiar with. No one had looked at you the way she did, like you were something interesting, an anomaly, but one that fascinated her.

“I am,” she replied.

“Why are you in my father’s garden?” you asked, the question hanging over you from the moment you’d seen her.

“Your father? That must make you the jewel of the town,” she said, “I’ve heard about you.”

“You have?” That sent a thrill of pleasure down your spine.

“And if I may say, the rumours don’t do you justice. You’re far more beautiful than they say,” she said.

“Who are you?” you asked again, wondering how one woman with a few well placed compliments could make your heart flutter when none of the suitors your father had paraded you in front of had managed to get so much as a second look.

“Someone hoping to take a walk through this lovely garden in the cool night air,” she said.

You stared at her, wondering where she’d come from, who she was really, what she wanted. She was everything your father had taught you not to be, brash and refusing to ask for permission to do anything, charming and beautiful, enticing in all the worst ways. If he saw her he would call the guards on sight.

So why did you want to give her anything she wanted?

“Take a turn about the garden with me?” she requested.

Her arm slipped through yours, tugging you along. You followed, bare feet on cool grass so different from the warm rugs inside. It wasn’t a surprise that she wasn’t following the carefully planned paths in the garden, but striding where she wanted. You let her without complaint.

“Your father should keep you under lock and key. Someone might be tempted to steal you away right from under his nose,” she said as she bent to look at some of the lavender you’d helped the gardener plant.

“No one is interested in stealing me,” you replied.

“No?” She looked up at you, her tongue dragging along her lower lip, making the fire in your veins reignite. You shook your head, “that surprises me.”

“Does it?” you asked.

“There will always be people looking to steal a jewel. Especially when one is owned by a powerful man,” she said.

“I think you’re overstating my reputation,” you laughed, “no one thinks about me like that.”

“You don’t hear how they talk about you in town,” she said.

“Then why am I still unmarried?” you asked as she straightened again.

“Perhaps your father isn’t ready to let his crown jewel go?” she suggested.

“He parades me around like a prize heifer in the hopes one of the men with bid on me,” you said, lips twisting in distaste.

You surprised a laugh out of her, face brightening, as if she saw some kind of potential in you. You preened, remembering how it felt, tucking it away to revisit later on when this enigmatic woman disappeared, leaving you in your little life.

“Then all those men should be taken to the local asylum,” she said, “I would empty my coffers to have you.”

Your cheeks heated with the pleasure her statement gave you. And the implication. To be married to this woman might not be so bad. It might even be enjoyable. Not that your father would ever consider it. She was the kind of match he’d believe would bring shame to the family. You were waiting for the news he was sending you somewhere far from home to ensure a match. Somewhere you didn’t have to meet the man before the wedding.

“I’m not property to be owned,” you said instead. It was the exact kind of statement that had turned half the suitors away from you.

“No, you’re not,” she said and the flash of pride over her face made your heart skip a beat.

“I wish my father saw it that way,” you said.

You had no idea why you felt comfortable enough telling this woman something you hadn’t managed to express to your own father. Perhaps it was the fact you were certain you’d never see her again. Or perhaps it was the way she turned your head fuzzy with how close she was. Her body was brushing against yours, her warmth seeping through the thin nightgown you wore.

You wanted to know who she really was.

Then she was dragging you into a shadow, her hand tight on your arm. Your back rested against the old apple tree, rough bark scraping through the cotton of your nightgown. Her body rested against yours, long lines pressed together in the shadows of the tree. You felt breathless, her own breath brushing against the vulnerable skin of your neck.

“What?” you tried to ask.

“Shh, love,” she said, her hand pressing against the swell of your hip.

At this distance you could see the faint freckles dusting her nose, the blue eyes every shade of the sea, her pink lips parted as she focused on you. The sound of two voices passed, a slow wander through the garden. Shrinking back, your hand on her waist pulled her closer into the shadows. You shouldn’t, a stranger breaking into your father’s property something you should report to the guards he paid to keep you safe, but there was something in you screaming to keep her hidden.

Her body relaxed as the voices moved further away, growing fainter with every passing moment. Still pressed against you, one had against the trunk of the tree by your head, the other still on your hip, you felt caged in but not trapped. It was a safe feeling, and yet you felt more alive than you had in years. It was like being in a carriage hurtling out of control. You wanted more of it.

“You didn’t give me up to your father’s guards,” she said.

“It’s not a crime to wish to walk through a garden,” you replied.

“Or to enjoy the company of a beautiful lady,” she replied, her voice husky, her gaze lingering on your mouth.

Your own eyes found her lips, wondering if they would be soft against your skin and what they might taste like. Her tongue ran along her lower lip again and you found yourself entranced. Her low chuckle was music to your ears as you found yourself leaning closer to hear better.

“Tell me, love,” she murmured, close enough her breath ghosted over your face, “did any of those suitors you spent time with manage to steal a kiss?”

“Of course not.” Just the suggestion was insulting.

“May I?”

Your father would crucify you if he knew. You would be ruined. But there, in the shadows and the moonlight, the cool sea breeze brushing over your skin, you thought the risk was worth it.

“Please,” you whispered.

Her lips brushed against yours, as gentle as a butterfly’s wing. You whimpered and she surged forward, her hips alining with yours, pressing you into the rough bark as she kissed you again. You’d never felt such fire, lit up from the inside out, burning up with every press of her lips. Her tongue licked along your lip in a mirror of what she’d done before. You opened to her, the way it felt so foreign and yet all consuming. It felt so good. It make you want more.

If this was what your father was protecting you from you could understand why. You’d give up everything for more. It was heady and addictive and all you could do was urge her on. She moaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper, pressing more insistently against you, possessing you. If this was the path to hell you thought eternal damnation might be worth it.

Only then she was pulling away, wrenching her mouth from yours, lips kiss swollen and eyes dark. You were breathless, your fingertips pressing to your own lips, a sense of wonder at the feeling. You wondered what it would be like to feel those lips everywhere, if they would draw such intense feelings in you. You thought they probably would.

“You are the jewel of Westview. Don’t let a petty criminal who won’t know your worth steal you. Hold out for the collector who will know exactly how precious you are,” she whispered.

And then she was gone, leaving you gasping for breath, hand pressed to your heart, leaning against the apple tree your father had so lovingly tended in your childhood. It was incomprehensible that one night in your garden could fundamentally change you. But you couldn’t forget. The door had been opened and now you knew what you were holding out for, the potential that was out there, the way you could feel. Your father had been keeping you sheltered, perhaps because he knew that if you knew the truth, there would be no stopping you looking for what you wanted.

You lingered in the garden, trying to get your heart under control. The cool air seared your skin, your knees weak, lips still tingling. When you finally returned to your room, you lay in bed, returning time and time again to that kiss. You pictured her face. You imagined her head on the pillow beside yours, dark hair spread over the white sheets.

By the morning, having only snatched moments of sleep, dreams filled with beautiful strangers in shadowy corners, you wondered if you could ever go back to the life you were living before. You knew it would be impossible. But your father would never accept this new reality for you. He would want you to go back to how you were before you knew all the things the world held.

There were whispers around the house, too quiet for you to hear but they followed you as you descended to breakfast. Your stomach churned the longer you went without hearing what the latest gossip was, wondering if someone had seen you the night before. If your father caught wind of your night time activity, you would be in such trouble.

“Darling.” Your father was already at the table, “did you sleep well?”

“Yes, Father.”

You sat at the table, a soft thanks passing over your lips when a plate was placed in front of you. You nudged the food with your fork, not sure you could eat. Your stomach was tying itself into knots.

“Did you hear any disturbances last night?” he asked, over the rim of his tea cup.

You froze before forcing your shoulders to relax.

“No, Father,” you said.

“You may have heard the servants talking this morning. We have been robbed and if the rumours are to be believed, Agatha Harkness’s ship has been sighted at the harbour,” he said.

You looked down to your plate, still pushing your food around. Agatha Harkness, pirate captain of legend, was a figure that had been scaring you since you were a little girl. It had been a great way for your mother to keep you in line. The threat of being carried away by Agatha Harkness if you misbehaved had haunted you.

Now, rather than fear, an overwhelming sense of curiosity was overtaking you. It would be too much of a coincidence for Agatha Harkness to be in town and a strange woman to be in your garden on the night your father was robbed. The two must be connected.

You slipped away after breakfast, sneaking out the way you’d learned to do as a child when the house became stifling. The streets were emptier than usual, the whispers of Agatha’s name following you as you made your way towards the harbour. You scurried past anyone who might try to stop you, a respectable lady out without any kind of chaperone or guards with a criminal on the loose.

The figure standing at the end of the pier was familiar. Long dark hair, unbound and floating on the breeze, one hand raised to her eyes as she gazed towards the horizon. The dress was gone, leather breeches and a loose shirt branding her as anything but respectable in your town of Westview. She was nothing like the wanted posters depicted, beautiful where they printed a monster. Dangling from the fingers of her other hand was a chalice you were intimately familiar with, having watched your father drink from it on every special occasion.

On slow footsteps you approached. Her head didn’t turn, her muscles didn’t clench, but you were sure she knew you were there. Stopping behind her, at her shoulder, you stared out at the horizon too. A ship swayed on the waves, the mast tall, a flag snapping in the wind.

“Agnes,” you said, “or would you prefer Agatha?”

“Worked it out, did you, love?” she asked.

“You robbed me,” you said.

“I robbed your father,” she corrected.

Finally turning to face you, you chose to drink your fill of her. She was beautiful, as beautiful as she’d been in the moonlight the night before. Wild and uncontrollable, not made to be contained, even in your mind. You wanted her. You were never going to stop wanting her.

“Why?” you asked.

“To prove I could.” She shrugged, “he was bragging that his house was impenetrable and that his greatest treasure could never be taken.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Although I’m beginning to think his greatest treasure wasn’t one of the objects in his home,” she said.

Your cheeks heated as her finger dragged along the skin of your collarbone and your breath was shaky as you drew it into your lungs. The smile she was giving you was predatory, like a cat with its sights set on a particularly nice bird. It was the exact kind of look that had you realising how much you wanted to feel this way for the rest of your life. You took a step closer to her.

“Will you steal me too?” you asked, breathless and desperate and not caring if you sounded desperate.

“What’s that, love?” she asked, head cocking to the side as her eyes dragged over you.

“Steal me from him too. Take me away. Make me yours,” you said.

Your hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her closer. Her hands settled on your waist, cinched in with the corset you’d been forced into that morning.

“I’m not sure about that, love. You’re not made for the pirate life,” she said.

“I’m not made for this life. I can’t stay here. Not anymore. Please. You said you would empty your coffers to have me. You don’t have to. Just take me,” you said.

“It won’t be the sort of luxury you’re used to,” she said.

“You mean the cage I live in,” you said.

“It’s not a pretty existence,” she said.

“I’ll be pretty enough to make up for it,” you replied.

“Indeed you will,” she said, eyes dipping down to your lips, “do you need to return home and pack a bag?”

“You’re the only thing I need now,” you said.

Her expression brightened and she swooped down, lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss. In the sun shining off the sea, salt on the air, you thought you might have found the suitor of your dreams without the help of your father. Certainly without his approval.

But when a pirate captain stole you away, there was nothing to be done expect enjoy the adventure.

[heartzfromel]

EL’S MASTERLIST 💜 🦇

Agatha Harkness

Power || Agatha x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

Agnes O’Connor

Fics

undercover || detective!agnes x reader 2

One Shots

and what about it? || 50’s!agnes x reader

i love you, i’m sorry || detective!agnes x ex wife!reader

Rio Vidal

One Shots

not good enough || rio vidal x fem!reader

Lilia Calderu

One Shots

snap out of it || lilia calderu x fem!reader

Requests

Requests are Open

what i’ll write for

[multimilfs]

I have an Agnes O’Connor x Reader story planned to be posted on Christmas. I’m not sure if I should give the story a Christmas theme or just leave it with a winter-time theme. Usually I try to keep the time of year in my stories pretty open, but I thought I’d let you all decide…

[natashashill]

asks 𝜗𝜚

delicate - wagatha reunion

good luck, babe! - agatha harkness x reader

tell me you love me - agatha harkness x reader 18+

my girl’s a brat - agnes o’connor x reader

18+

tell me that you’re still mine - agatha harkness x reader

18+

want me, want me not - agathario x reader

she’s the one - agatha harkness x reader