#agnes pure

[nomoreusername]

TMR Characters Do The "Do They Make You Laugh?" Trend

Thomas:But does he make you laugh?

Y/N:He's not always falling in love.

Newt:But does he make you laugh?

Y/N:He trusts me enough to come to me.

Minho:But does he make you laugh?

Y/N:He doesn't hurt my feelings.

Gally:But does he make you laugh?

Y/N:He doesn't lash out at me when I help him.

Aris:But does he make you laugh?

Y/N:He can tell when girls aren't just being nice.

Teresa:But does she make you laugh?

Y/N:She knows what she wants in life.

Brenda:But does she make you laugh?

Y/N:She opens up to me.

Sonya:But does she make you laugh?

Y/N:She doesn't look at Aris the way you do.

Harriet:But does she make you laugh?

Y/N:She doesn't put her work first.

[youryurigoddess]

Maggie’s pendants and good omens

Yes, you’ve read it right. This post is going to deal with some literal good omens, not just title drop! But first things first, let’s take a closer look at the topic of this analysis.

A toucan

The top necklace is a lovely design involving a crowned toucan — believed to be a messenger of gods able to travel between the spiritual and the physical world, often associated with rain and rainbow (a Christian symbol of divine love, grace, and mercy, a reminder of the covenant between God and humanity to spare the latter from future trials like the Flood) — encircled by a gold band (a symbol of infinity, eternal love and promise) spun by a small butterfly (a symbol of transformation, hope, and rebirth). All three symbols combined seem to deliver a divine message of hope for rebirth, possibly resurrection, and the eternal life. Very fitting in the context of the Second Coming.

The fact that toucans were revered by the native South Americans as rainbringers strengthens the symbolic meaning of another type of bird we can spot on Maggie’s clothes in the very first episode, as her character introduction — a swallow. Swallows flying low are also believed to be harbingers of rain and bad weather. If you see one close to Earth or a building, it means that there’s a storm — or a certain biblical tempest — on the horizon.

In Ancient Greece and Rome swallows were representing Aphrodite, goddess of love. In Christianity they were considered to be of God and symbolized hope, awakening, and revival of life as messengers of spring and protectors from winter colds. Also helped Jesus on the Cross — according to a Christian legend, a group of swallows was supposed to take out the thorns from the Crown of Thorns and alleviate His Passion on the Cross. Humans banding together in the name of good have been a big theme in the series ever since The Them made an appearance, and from what we already know about the unpublished Good Omens sequel, we can assume that Jesus is going to take the spotlight in the upcoming season.

Maggie definitely attracts sudden inexplicable weather changes, like a thunderstorm with weirdly localized lightning strikes or a sudden downpour. And we’re still waiting for some vavooming (and the following happy ending) to happen in S3.

A heart with an eye

Now, the more nuanced clue hidden in the bottom necklace. I know that some of us were trying to tackle the concept of Maggie’s eye in a heart pendant suggesting her Masonic connotations, but this symbol (or the Eye of Providence in general) isn’t strictly Masonic, it isn’t even limited only to Judeo-Christian art. And while it is used a lot in Christian iconography, we should focus on a very specific example of it already referenced in the show.

Buckle up, we’re making a parachute dive into S1.

It seems like our old friend, Agnes Nutter, still has our backs.

Prophecy 4020:

Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts enjoin, there are othere fyres than mine; when the whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

If you look closely at the bottom right corner of this frame, you will see that as an illustration for the above prophecy the production team chose a 1611 engraving titled The Minde should have a fixed Eye On Objects, that are plac’d on High first found in Gabriel Rollenhagen’s Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum.

In 1635 it was published in A Collection of Emblemes, Ancient and Moderne Quickened With Metrical Illustrations, both Morall and Divine, Etc by George Wither with the accompanying hymn:

A Heart, which bore the figure of an Eye

Wide open to the Sunne; by some, was us'd,

When in an Emblem, they would signifie

A Minde, which on Celestiall Matters mus'd:

Implying, by the same, that there is nought

Which in this lower Orbe, our Eyes can see,

So fit an Object for a manly thought,

As those things, which in Heav'n above us be.

God, gave Mankinde (above all other Creatures)

A lovely Forme, and upward-looking Eye,

(Among the rest of his peculiar Features)

That he might lift his Countenance on high:

And (having view'd the Beauty, which appeares

Within the outward Sights circumference)

That he might elevate above the Sphæres,

The piercing Eye, of his Intelligence.

Then, higher, and still higher strive to raise

His Contemplations Eyes, till they ascend

To gaine a glimpse of those eternall Rayes,

To which all undepraved Spirits tend.

For, 'tis the proper nature of the Minde

(Till fleshly Thoughts corrupt it) to despise

Those Lusts whereto the Body stands inclin'd;

And labour alwayes, upward to arise.

Some, therefore, thought those Goblins which appeare

To haunt old Graves and Tombes, are Soules of such,

Who to these loathsome places doomed were,

Because, they doted on the Flesh too much.

But, sure we are, well-minded Men shall goe

To live above, when others bide below.

And hey, guess what 4020, i.e., the number of the prophecy, symbolizes in Strong’s Concordance? Periergazomai, a Greek word meaning “to waste one's labor about something” — to meddle, going beyond proper boundaries (where a person doesn't belong); to fixate on what others are doing, instead of doing what the person himself is supposed to do.

It appears only once in the Bible:

2 Thessalonians 3:11: We hear that some among you are idle and disruptive. They are not busy; they are busybodies. Such people we command and urge in the Lord Jesus Christ to settle down and earn the food they eat. And as for you, brothers and sisters, never tire of doing what is good.

To make things slightly more interesting, in the Hebrew version of Strong’s Concordance 4020 has another meaning — migbaloth, meaning “twisted things, i.e. cords”. Which doesn’t make much sense until we read the actual passage:

Exodus 28:24 and two chains of pure gold, twisted like cords; and you shall attach the corded chains to the settings.

And compare it to the most recent post on the topic published directly by Word of God:

What if all these clues didn’t apply to Maggie and Nina, but Aziraphale and Crowley instead? What if Maggie served as a messenger — consciously or not — just like the toucan, delivering the prophecy to those who need it most?

“When the tempest comes and darkness and great storms, and the dead will leave their graves and walk the Earth once more and there will be great lamentations for the end is near, don’t lose hope, hold hands and look up.”

Basically what Aziraphale and Crowley already did when they performed the 25 Lazarii miracle, only with no interference from Gabriel this time around.

And, if both Strong’s Concordance and Maggie’s personal addition to her second pendant are to be believed, with a wedding band somehow involved in the process.

[ragnarockz]

87 & 100 for the smut ask 😈

😈

87. “It’s hot when you talk back.”

100. “You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?”

"It's hot when you talk back," Agent Vidal laughed as she glanced over her shoulder at Agnes. She was laying down her head to the pillow, knees drawn up and Vidal sitting high and mighty on her lap, straddling her, riding her. They were skin to skin; no silicone between them this morning.

Agnes rolled her eyes, moving her hands up and under her head with her elbows pointed out. She was going to soak all of this in before they had to scramble to leave for work and here was Vidal, being a tease so early in the goddamn morning.

"It's not talking back when you start climbing all over me at fucking 4am...jesus, Vidal? You're still horny? Didn't I fuck you hard enough last night?" Agnes snapped, her eyes shooting daggers into Vidal's back. What the hell was wrong with her; she had gone out like a log right after; still curled up on Agnes' toy that she had to pull herself out of Vidal. And now here she was, up at the crack of dawn, climbing all over her.

Vidal looked behind her again, not so much at Agnes but just so her words wouldn't be out of earshot, "No. Your toy fucked me hard last night, not you."

If you could call it a growl then that's what came out of Agnes' mouth. Mixed between frustration and lust, she knew Vidal was going to be insufferable today.

"You better cut the shit before work, there's no way you're gonna talk like that to me all fucking day..."

"Why? Can't control yourself, Daddy? Mommy is gonna make you cum at work?"

Agnes went stone cold; all movement stopping except for Vidal on top, still humping. It felt like her brain was melting in her skull and all she could hear was Vidal laughing; a wicked evil sound. The laugh mixed with the sight of her moving, her dark hair hung down at her back and moved along with her. Agnes felt like her heart was going to burst at the sight and sound of it all. She was in fucking deep and there was no way to crawl herself out.

[mxalexwhat]

Magnus Archives but make it Hozier

Here's my Spotify playlist for TMA Hozier. Its always evolving. Some fears just don't have a good 1 to 1, but with the new Unreal Unearth album, its gotten better

JonMartin - Wasteland, Baby!

Tim/Sasha* - Who We Are

Basira/Daisy - Unknown/Nth

Elias/Peter - From Eden

Jon/Oliver - Abstract (Psychopomp)

Agnes/Jude - Cherry Wine

The Buried - Work Song

The Corruption - In A Week

The Dark - De Selby

The Desolation - Arsonist's Lullaby

The End - All Things End

The Eye - Dinner & Diatribes

The Extinction - Be

The Flesh - Eat Your Young

The Hunt - In the Woods Somewhere

The Lonely - To Be Alone

The Slaughter - Shrike

The Spiral - Sedated

The Stranger - Someone New

The Vast - Almost (Sweet Music)

The Web - Movement

*or JonMartin MAG200 or JonTim MAG119 if you're feeling extra spicy

[honeyharedude30]

[womansfilm]

literally what the housing search does to a mf

[anrisimps]

I should've thought twice before choosing a random name for my oc and immortalising it forever

My Agnes in question :

[bobgoesw00t]

Shinn...HE'S TOO CUTE AND IT'S NOT ALLOWED IN THE SLIGHTEST!!!!!!! Love the pictures that Kira has hanging by his desk and how the Navy Haro STILL HAS THE MUSTACHE LACUS DREW ON IT BACK IN GUNDAM SEED!!! On a side note, pooooor Shinn, he's such a precious dumbass x3

[zipadeea]

Sarah J Maas: I need a name for Feyre's oldest sister. The mean one, who's secretly super traumatized and depressed.

SJM: It should flow well with Elain and Feyre, and i need it to have five letters like the other two.

SJM: But not, like, a normal name. A cool name, a different name. But not too out there.

TV commercial for sleeping pills playing in the background: "Ready to catch a great night's sleep? Just climb into bed and leave the rest to Lunesta."

SJM: fuck yeah

[cream-and-tea]

carefully curated selection of the most pallas-and-agnes-coded images i’ve collected on the lay me down pinterest board

[nomoreusername]

You're My Home (Part 3)

Pairing:Teresa x female reader

Summary:Despite being given the chance to make something of yourself you don't see the point of going on.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair. Teresa had found the cure. She had the way of saving the world right in her hands. She had the answers that people were starting to doubt would ever exist. She had the way this could have been stopped years ago.

And she gave it all up. She had given it all up for Thomas. For the boy who left. For the boy who hadn't been on her side. For the boy who hadn't understood her. For the boy who never knew who she actually was. For the boy who never realized how selfless she actually is. For the boy who hadn't made her feel what you did.

Thomas. She had given it up for Thomas.

She had helped with his gunshot as you were distracting Janson. She had been carrying him to the roof as you were waiting for them so you could somehow find safety.

Though if you were honest, you had actually been waiting for her. Despite the flames surrounding you, all you could bare to think about was Teresa.

You were near the edge of the roof looking out. You knew there was no point in doing anything else. You had just stood there while the star crossed lovers cried, accepting the others embrace.

Then, you saw it. The Berg. You saw your way out. To freedom. To hope. To normalcy. To a better life. To everything you had dreamed of.

As you turned around to tell them though, you saw it. Teresa with her lips pressed against Thomas's with a passion that seemed to be radiating off of their very souls as tears streamed down their faces during their kiss.

You had watched them as your heart broke in your chest and your breath being stolen. In just a few seconds you had lost the only person you could call home all over again. Just as you had thought love could be real, you were proven that it was.

It just wasn't meant for you.

Teresa stared at you, her hand outreached as tears picked her eyes. As you stood still, not accepting any of the help or chance of life, she swore she could feel something being ripped away from her, as if you held parts of her flesh and bones.

"Please?"She begged, being so close to the edge that she could feel the fire reaching for her arms. Not that she cared. All she wanted was you. All she ever wanted was you, safe, with her forever. A life full of love and happiness. A life worth living.

Not a life with Thomas. He could never truly give her that, and she knew that if she accepted his love she would be settling. And Teresa does not settle, and she will not start today. It's either you or nobody.

You didn't want this anymore. Every day you just felt more and more unworthy of anything good. You had spent years isolating yourself to find the cure that would have saved your family. Then, Teresa did, and while you were more than happy about that, it was gone. Even if it wasn't, there would soon be nobody left to give it to. Everything you knew would be ruined. Even those city lights Teresa made you see the beauty in would be no more.

You didn't think she felt the same though. It didn't cross your mind that the fear of death and emotions of seeing someone who brought pain and love overwhelmed to the point where kissing Thomas seemed logical. All you saw was that she had kissed him in a way you didn't think she could ever kiss you.

Looking up at her, you managed to give the girl you love a small smile as tears streaked down your cheeks. Realizing exactly what you were doing, she attempted to make you give in and grab you by force, not caring or even thinking about the burns she would get.

It was too late though. The second her hands that had shown you softness touched the flames the building collapsed, sending you with it.

Watching the one person who truly understood her willingly die, she broke down in tears. Seeing the way you looked up between her and the stars you had missed, the smile and tears still etched onto your face, it all hit her.

You were her only reason to stay. If she went back to the Safe Haven, she would never fully be trusted to not put the world first again. She would never be truly forgiven for the blood people kept saying was on her hands. She would never have someone who knew her pain and how to make it okay again.

She wouldn't have you. She wouldn't have a home, and without a home what was the point of even being alive?

As she tried to fall into the fire with you, Minho pulled her back. Screaming and crying and pleading to be allowed to be with the girl who means everything, she felt something else break. Something that could never, ever, ever be fixed.

Because the only person that would have been able to fix it was you.

[galliaestomnis]

Agnes Martin - Dusk, 1974. Acrylic on canvas. 14 x 31 x 31 cm

[starthetripledevil]

Mario Legacy Challenge: Outtakes

So basically moments that happened during my Mario Legacy gameplay (1964-1990) that I took screenshots of but aren't really considered "canon" to the timeline.

Btw my headcanon ages for the premade characters from The Sims 4 don't even align with what they are in this save.

Starting with the Robotnik household in 1964, before the Mario family even began, we have a fire starting on day 2. Colin is on fire, but fortunately, his uncle Geraldo is there to save him.

And is Julian Robotnik protesting against (or for?) COVID-19? I'm sorry, but it's the wrong Tokyo Olympics for that!

GeekCon is happening near Mario's new home, with his mother attending! 😮 I didn't think she even knew this place existed!

But it's not just the Robotniks. The Vatore siblings are here too! Lilith Vatore seems to be... sleeping on a bench? Even though she's a vampire?

During the night this screenshot was taken, I also spotted Caleb and some random guy in a raccoon costume. (No, I'm not posting every instance of premade Sims appearing. The only reason why I even posted this is because Caleb and Lilith being around in this time period isn't really that implausible. But I still don't it's very likely they were in Mario's home dimension, so I'm not considering this "canon".)

For some reason, Mario's evil grandma Jennifer keeps calling him (because she totally has his contact information and interdimensional phone calls are a totally normal thing in the 1960s). One particularly OOC call is when she wants to go on a date with Dennis Kim. Yes, the base game character. (I guess this is just what happens when you don't delete the premade characters.)

When Colin ages up into a teen, the game seems to be making him into a furry for some reason... not shown here but he even has the Friend of the Animals aspiration. Could this have something to do with me placing the Robotnik lot in Brindleton Bay? Still, not really fitting for the character who's openly racist against Mobians.

Regan wants to have a romantic relationship with Duane Talla, a premade Sim from Island Living (I didn't realize that at the time of taking this screenshot). Based on the timing of this, he must have only recently aged up into a young adult, since he's a teen at the start of the game. I said yes, but at least it didn't actually result in a relationship forming. (It never does, as far as I know...)

During the Humor and Hijinks Festival (or New Year's festival to celebrate the start of 1970), Mario joins the jokesters. His enemy uncle (the main reason why he left the Robotnik family) is also there, of course on the opposing team.

In 1972, Mario and Pauline go on a date, but are interrupted by none other than the infamous Agnes Crumplebottom, who for some reason decided to travel to a romantic dating spot in San Myshuno.

In late 1972, Luigeena and Tony adopt a toddler.

I ended up moving her to a different household with no relationship with her previous parents. She is not considered "canon" to this series, as Luigeena and Tony's children are the biological twins born in 1973.

And now a timeskip to 1981, when the Mario brothers have aged up into infants and Jumpman (Jumpman is the same Sim who was previously referred to as Mario, and "Mario" from now refers to his son - a similar thing also applies to his wife Pauline, who is now referred to as Lady and their daughter is Pauline) has been modifying the infant beds. While editing the apartment in build mode, one of the infant beds somehow ends up out of bounds. It can't be deleted and it's blocking the way to the Marios' home.

And so begins the bugged bed "subplot", where I spent an hour trying to resolve this glitch in order to resume gameplay.

Failed methods to get rid of the bed include going to manage worlds and back (which only causes Lady to leave work early), using a spellcaster Sim to set it on fire (it burns it somewhat, but firefighters arrive before it can be destroyed) and setting it as head (makes a duplicate). A kleptomaniac also can't swipe it if they have a low mischief skill.

Finally, the problem is solved! Once she has mischief level 10 (which, yes, I cheated), Bianca Barov manages to steal the crib and save the legacy!

In my main 1985 post, I included an awkward conversation between Pauline and Emmalyn. But here's one particular thing that happens: Pauline suggests that Emmalyn should get together with Kaori (who's already married) and she actually considers it! I actually tried to pick some random guy in the list of available Sims, but must have accidentally picked Kaori.

Later on during the year, Jumpman catches Emmalyn apparently WooHooing. He asks Emmalyn if she knows Kaori (of course, Jumpman would have no reason to suspect that Kaori is there, but it's mostly just me being curious). Fortunately, she does say that she hasn't met Kaori.

Kayla's pre-makeover look when she aged up into a teen (the light is just from aging up, it's not any CC).

During Kayla's visit in early 1988, she leaves the apartment in order to age up.

After the whole circus plot, Harrison Gibbs (Jumpman's boss in the circus career) ended up getting married to a now grown-up Maira Watson (a premade character from Cottage Living). They live with Donkey Kong Junior and Cranky Kong (yes, I actually renamed him in-game, even though it's unlikely we're going to see him again).

Turns out Harrison also has 2 kids with random Sims (those MCCC kids generated between 2 Sims who don't even know each other), and it even connects the family tree with Lana Yee's family as well as Kayla (Pauline's best friend), Juanita (Mario's friend from school) and most of the premade characters from the packs I have.

[4theitgirls]

yoga routines

practices under 30 minutes

20 minute gentle yoga flow by move with nicole

20 minute feel good yoga by move with nicole

20 minute daily yoga by move with nicole

20 minute daily yoga stretch by move with nicole

20 minute minimal cues yoga by yoga with kassandra

20 minute yoga for flexibility by yoga with kassandra

20 minute yoga for flexible legs by yoga with kate amber

20 minute sore body yoga stretch by yoga with kate amber

20 minute yoga for stress relief by yoga with kate amber

25 minute full body flow by jess yoga

25 minute yoga for mobility by jess yoga

25 minute yoga reset by jess yoga

25 minute self care yoga by jess yoga

25 minute evening yoga ritual by jess yoga

25 minute yoga for mental health by yoga with kassandra

25 minute yoga for flexible legs by yoga with kate amber

25 minute vinyasa yoga flow by yoga with kate amber

25 minute full body flexibility yoga by yoga with kate amber

25 minute strong yoga by growingannanas

30-45 minute practices

30 minute yoga to reduce stress by jess yoga

30 minute yoga flow by move with nicole

30 minute stretch & flow by yoga with kassandra

30 minute yoga for flexibility by boho beautiful yoga

30 minute full body yoga by yoga with kassandra

30 minute intermediate yoga flow by yoga with kassandra

30 minute seated yoga stretch by jess yoga

30 minute gentle slow flow by jess yoga

30 minute deep yoga stretch by yoga with kate amber

30 minute de-stress yoga flow by jess yoga

30 minute hip opening yoga by yoga with kassandra

30 minute vinyasa twist flow by yoga with kassandra

30 minute side body vinyasa by yoga with kassandra

30 minute relax & stretch yoga by yoga with kassandra

30 minute heart opening yoga flow by yoga with kassandra

30 minute full body yoga by yoga with tim

30 minute yoga workout by boho beautiful yoga

30 minute full body intermediate yoga workout by travis elliot

30 minute gentle seated yoga by jess yoga

35 minute intermediate vinyasa flow by yoga with kassandra

35 minute intermediate yoga by yoga with kate amber

35 minute candlelight yoga for evening relaxation by jess yoga

40 minute deep stretch slow flow by yoga with kassandra

40 minute feminine energy yoga by yoga with kate amber

40 minute yoga workout by move with nicole

40 minute power yoga by yoga with kassandra

40 minute full body yoga by boho beautiful yoga

45+ minute practices

45 minute full body yoga flow by move with nicole

45 minute deep stretch yoga by yoga with kassandra

45 minute full body yoga by boho beautiful yoga

45 minute detox yoga by boho beautiful yoga

45 minute somatic yoga & nidra by akshaya agnes

45 minute hatha yoga by fightmaster yoga

45 minute morning yoga by yoga with tim

50 minute slow & strong yoga by yoga with kate amber

50 minute pure flexibility flow by yoga with kate amber

1 hour full body yoga by yoga with kassandra

1 hour intermediate yoga flow by yoga with kassandra

1 hour intermediate vinyasa flow by yoga with kassandra

1 hour mindful yoga flow by jess yoga

1 hour yoga to feel great by yoga with kassandra

1 hour yoga for flexibility by yoga with kassandra

1 hour all level yoga by boho beautiful yoga

1 hour yoga flow by charlie follows

1 hour full body yoga flow by boho beautiful yoga

1 hour yoga flow & breathwork by boho beautiful yoga

1 hour power yoga by travis elliot

1 hour strong yoga flow by yoga with kate amber

1 hour full body morning yoga by boho beautiful yoga

1 hour yoga by boho beautiful yoga

1 hour hatha yoga by fightmaster yoga

1 hour yoga flow by boho beautiful yoga

[covenofagatha]

Only say my name

Agnes x reader

You resort to a desperate measure to get your ex-girlfriend to talk to you

Word count: 3k

Warnings: daddy kink, semi-public sex, fingering, oral, handcuffs, light choking, degradation

A/N: got this idea after listening to "Just One Yesterday" by Fall Out Boy lol

The flashing red and blue lights alert you of her arrival and you perk up from where you’re lounging against a dark windowsill in an alley. 

The cop car is hidden from your view but the sound of the door opening is unmistakable before it slams shut. Boots thump against the sidewalk, a shadow growing longer in the flickering lights. 

Your heart beats fast in your chest and you wipe your clammy palms on your short skirt as she rounds the corner and pauses, taking you in with a detested grimace. 

“Detective,” you drawl, a slow smirk spreading across your face. Your skin is already heating up just from the sight of her.

Agnes O’Connor rakes her eyes over you, pursing her lips. The glow from her car illuminates the wrinkles on her pale face and the iciness in her blue eyes. Her dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail and she’s wearing her signature flannel with a navy fleece windbreaker and the black pants you know make her ass look good. Handcuffs dangle from her belt loop and she shrugs back her jacket so you can see them better. 

She steps forward until she’s only a few feet away from you and sniffs as she takes in your surroundings. It’s a small alleyway littered with empty soda cans, glass from broken beer bottles, milk crates that have never had anything in them, and puddles that never seem to completely dry. The building you’re leaning against is Alfie’s, a dive bar that’s frequented on weekends, but not so much on Tuesdays like today. 

“Want to tell me why the station got a call about an hour ago telling me that my ex-girlfriend is selling cocaine outside Alfie’s?” Agnes asks gruffly, resting a foot on top of a crate. 

You simper coyly and tap a finger to your lips thoughtfully. “Hmm, about an hour ago? Oh—maybe because that’s when I placed the anonymous tip.” 

To her credit, she doesn’t even look surprised. “So you’re not selling cocaine?” 

Pushing off the window, you step closer and notice the way she becomes more guarded. It stings but you brush it off. “I just missed you,” you say softly.

Pretending to commit a second-degree felony just to get an ex’s attention is definitely a new low for you. But sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures and she wasn’t returning any of your texts and calls. 

Plus it worked. 

“You’re insane,” Agnes scoffs and you grin manically before closing the distance and tracing a finger down her jacket zipper. 

“You don’t miss me, Agnes?” you ask, voice pure and sweet. You give her the doe-eyes that always used to work on her. 

She grabs your wrist and holds it tightly. “It’s been three months. It was for the best. You need to move on.” 

Undeterred, you wrench your arm from her grip, getting a thrill. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

Agnes holds your unwavering stare, the vein in her forehead throbbing amidst the police car lights, until she can’t do it anymore. Her gaze drops to the ground and she doesn’t answer. 

Feeling victorious, you run a hand down her chest and stomach, stopping when you get to the button of her pants and she shivers and refuses to look at you now. 

“You don’t think about me at night when you’re all alone in bed?” you whisper and her cheek twitches. Your finger circles her button, waiting for her permission. “When you’ve had a long day at work and you wish there was someone there to help take the edge off?” 

Her jaw clenches. “No,” Agnes spits out, but you were together long enough to tell when she’s lying. 

“Really?” you breathe and curl the wispy tendrils of her hair uncaptured in her ponytail around your fingers. She gives you a curt nod, eyes darting everywhere in the dark alley. “Then why are you here?” 

This makes her falter. “What?” 

You step back with a shrug and a raise of your eyebrow. “I called the station and left the tip. Didn’t mention you by name or anything. You could’ve left it alone and let someone else deal with me. But here you are.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she argues as you smile smugly. “I just wanted to see the depths you’ve fallen to now. I’ve seen the tramps you’ve been parading around town with. Dealing drugs though? That might be rock bottom for you.” 

“Wow, you know, for someone who broke up with me because you were ‘too busy,’ you sure have been keeping extensive tabs on me,” you say sardonically. 

Agnes rolls her eyes. “And you pretended to be selling crack to get me to talk to you. Do you know how much trouble you would be in if it wasn’t me who came here? Giving a false report and wasting a detective’s time? That’d be at least a night in jail and then a fine.” 

You hold out your arms to her, wrists pressed together and stick out your bottom lip. “Arrest me then.” 

She looks you up and down, brows furrowing. “What? No. Get out of here and stop wasting my time.” 

“Oh, come on, Detective. You can’t be caught giving special treatment, even to your ex. Go on—arrest me.” 

Scowling, Agnes unclips her handcuffs from her belt loop, roughly grabs your shoulder and spins you around, and locks one cuff around your wrist and then the other. You don’t miss her sharp intake of breath when you press your ass against her crotch and you smile. You’re violently reminded of all the times she restrained you in other ways and you wonder if she’s thinking of them too. 

When she pushes you forward by the chain, you can feel the slick between your legs. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me my rights?” 

She stops and looks at you, eyes hard but curious. Much like you know her, she knows you just as well. 

And Agnes knows you’re up to something. 

“Fine,” she gives in. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you.” 

You hold her gaze and lean in with a wicked smirk. “Agnes.” 

There’s a shadow of heat on her face and the gleam in her eye stands out against the red and blue lights that are still flashing. 

But she sets her jaw and shoves you forward, leaving you scrambling to adapt. 

“Okay fine. How about…daddy,” you rasp and she almost misses her step. 

Agnes steps away from you and tousles her hair, messing it up even more, like she’s deciding what to do with you. Your stomach twists and burns and your cunt is almost aching with her proximity. 

When you were together, you had sex almost every night. Three months without it has left you incredibly desperate for touch and no matter who you’ve tried to fill the void with, you’ve just been left unsatisfied and missing Agnes. 

Without warning, she grabs you by the throat and your breath catches. Her lip curls as she walks you backwards until you’re pressed against the exterior of Alfie’s. 

“Is this what you wanted?” she seethes and you strain against the cold metal around your wrists. 

“Yes,” you choke out. 

Agnes laughs cruelly. “You were so fucking desperate for this that you risked getting arrested?” 

“What was I supposed to do, Agnes? You wouldn’t talk to me!” 

She grabs your cheeks and smushes them together so you can’t say anything else. It hurts your jaw but you moan anyway. 

“Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you, honey?” she asks condescendingly. You nod anyway and she squeezes tighter. “Now what am I going to do with you?” 

You garble something nonsensically and she lets go of your face with an amused look. 

It takes you a moment to catch your breath, but then you offer, “ I can go down on you?” 

Agnes is caught off guard but her face quickly resets. “Are you trying to bribe a detective?” 

“Depends,” you say, teasing lilt to your voice. “Is it working?” 

She growls and grabs a fistful of your hair before lowering you down to your knees. The gravel on your skin makes you wince but she unzips her pants and shoves them down just enough for her to widen her stance over you and you forget all about the sting. 

Her plain black underwear makes you gasp and she yanks on your hair again to pull you forward. The handcuffs bite your wrists as you struggle but the pain bleeds into pleasure when Agnes’s short nails scratch at your head. 

“Make daddy feel good and we’ll see about your punishment,” she says, voice gruff with heat and you lean in, mouth watering, to nip at her cunt through her panties. 

She reaches down with her other hand to slide her underwear to the side and the musky smell of her goes straight to your own pussy and you rub your thighs together to try to relieve some of the pressure. 

Instead of going straight for her cunt, you suck kisses into the pale skin of her upper thigh. She makes a sound when you soothe the spot with your tongue and she shivers. 

“Don’t tease,” Agnes orders through gritted teeth and you chuckle. 

The first drag of your flattened tongue through her folds has her hand tightening in your hair and she hisses. She is fucking wet. 

Agnes can pretend she doesn’t miss you all she wants, but her body betrays her. It makes your own crackle with electricity and there’s a burning fire in your core. 

You tease around her clit with kitten-licks and she’s biting her lip to hold back her noises—you know how loud she can be—but her head is tossed back and the glow from her car has her euphoric expression lit up. 

You finally lick her clit directly and she lets out a muffled groan. Your wrists feel rubbed raw but you still keep pulling like maybe you’ll be able to break free and touch her. She keeps your hair gripped tight so she can keep you where she wants you and you continue lapping at her clit. 

Agnes groans, less-restrained this time, when you trail your tongue down and shove it inside her, curling it, and moaning at her sweet heat that floods your mouth. 

She begins to rut her hips against your face and as your tongue strokes inside her cunt, the tip of your nose rubs against her clit until she overwhelms all of your senses. You hear yourself making noises and the dull ache in your wrists momentarily distracts you before she pulls your hair again and brings you back to the present. 

You wish more than anything that you could touch her, feel her clenching around your fingers as you curl three of them up deep inside her just the way she likes. She keens when you massage her spongy spot with your tongue and bucks her hips harder. Your face is getting wetter and you tilt your head ever-so-slightly to the side to get a breath of air before you dive back in. 

“Fuck, right there,” Agnes gasps and grinds down against your tongue. Your cunt is throbbing right now, slickness spilling out around your panties, and you moan into her. 

She swears again at the vibrations and tries to spread her legs even wider so your tongue can get deeper inside her but it doesn’t work that well, so she drags you back up to her clit. You latch onto it like it’s a lifeline and she says something that you can’t quite make out. 

You alternate between hard licks and sucking on her clit, straining against the cuffs uncontrollably, while she continues to ride your face. 

“God, I forgot how good your mouth is,” she groans and you scrape your teeth against her in response, making her jolt. Her wetness is coating your cheeks—you can feel how sticky she’s made you—and you willingly drink more of her, willingly devour more of her because you’ve just fucking missed her so much. 

“Daddy,” you gasp out against her cunt, just loud enough for her to hear, and you feel her throb. 

Your biceps are taut, burning, already sore, your elbows are stiff from being locked straight for too long, and your wrists feel wet—none of it matters because Agnes lets out a high-pitched sound and bucks so hard that her pelvis hits your nose. 

“I’m close,” she gasps out. “Daddy’s so close.”

Enclosing your lips around her clit, you suck roughly and then lash your tongue against her while she continues to move against your mouth. Her clit is pulsing, wetness is gushing out of her pussy and onto your chin and—

The coil snaps inside of her and Agnes comes all over your face with quiet moans, not wanting to give you any more satisfaction than that. You keep licking at her through her orgasm and then double-down your efforts once she stops shaking, but she tugs you away from her, muttering something about being “too sensitive.” 

Your head stings when she pulls you up by your hair and pushes your back against the wall. It’s hard to lean against it properly with your hands restrained behind you but you stop worrying about it when Agnes, after pulling up her underwear and pants, presses against you and slides a hand between your legs. 

“What do you say, detective?Think I can get off for good behavior?” you ask slyly and she rolls her eyes and moves suddenly. 

A strangled gasp tears itself from your throat when she slides two fingers over the wet gusset of your underwear and prods your opening through the fabric, getting it more soaked with you. 

“Such a slut for daddy, aren’t you?” she coos and you nod pathetically. A smile stretches across her face, etching the lines in her chin and cheeks and forehead and you get the sudden urge to run your tongue over them. She leans in, mouth pressed against your ear. “Say it.” 

Fuck. “I’m a slut for you, daddy,” you whine and you can feel her smirking. She keeps teasing you, circling your clit through your panties so you keep going. “Such a slut that I’d do anything for you to fuck me, I just need you so badly, please, daddy—” 

Agnes peels your underwear from your sopping cunt and slides three fingers in immediately. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out and she chuckles breathlessly before setting a bruising pace. You pull frantically at the cuffs because you need to get her closer to you, but it’s to no avail. 

She sees you struggling but instead of letting you out, she just smirks and leans down to bite your neck. You hiss at her teeth and she sucks hard on a particularly rough thrust and it has you reeling. 

“Oh god, feels so good,” you babble, head falling back against the wall and she curls her fingers deep. Pleasure skyrockets inside you, the blue and red lights from her cop car mirroring the fireworks through your body. It all bleeds together and you’re panting open-mouthed against her windbreaker as she fucks you. 

“You’re just a desperate slut for me,” she repeats and you nod again because that’s all you can say. “Willing to risk getting arrested just to get my fingers back inside you—fuck, you feel so good—god, I wish I would’ve packed tonight.” 

That makes you gutturally moan and your cunt throbs at the thought of her turning you around, hiking up your skirt, and shoving her big, purple strap into you, the one that always took you some time to work up to, to teach you a lesson about wasting her time. 

“Maybe next time I’ll actually sell cocaine,” you say breathlessly and she laughs before twisting her fingers roughly. 

“You would if it meant you got fucked,” she retorts and her free hand loosely grabs your neck. Even the slight pressure is enough to make you dizzy and the pleasure heightens. Your core is tightening, walls clenching tightly around her fingers, head spinning—she’s too good. 

“Just by you,” you choke out. “Only by you, fuck, daddy—Agnes, I’m gonna—” 

She curls her fingers again and rubs against your g-spot. “Come for me, baby girl.” 

Her thumb swipes at your clit and you fall over the edge, your cunt convulsing around her fingers as she steadily keeps pumping them in and out of you. If you listen closely enough, you can hear your wetness squelching and you can certainly still feel it on your upper thighs. 

Agnes pulls out of you slowly and you grimace at the sudden emptiness that fills your cunt. She cleans her fingers off in her mouth while you watch transfixed. She lets out a low groan at your taste and your clit aches again. 

Will she take you back to her place? Does this change anything? 

You hope both answers are yes. 

She turns you around by the shoulders and you blink at the building, confused for a second, before you feel her hands on your wrists. 

“Fuck,” she mutters. 

There’s a click and your right hand is freed and then another click and the metal restraints are gone. 

You face her and flex your wrists behind your back before raising them up and you see why she cursed. Your skin is scratched and burned from your struggling, specks of blood dotting in a ring. 

She gingerly grabs your forearms and rotates them to assess the damage. Agnes has never used real handcuffs on you, ones that couldn’t easily be broken out of, and you can tell she feels bad. 

“You can buy me dinner to make up for it?” you suggest playfully. She looks at you, eyes earnestly searching your face for something you’re not quite sure of, but after a moment, she nods and puts an arm around your shoulders. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” she murmurs, walking you to her car, and you have to tilt your head away so she doesn’t see the dopey grin on your face. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[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.