#becca talks about... things?

[lucienarcheron]

let it be noted that Ruhn survived the usual SJM haircut attacks and kept his long locks despite being tortured 🙌🏻

[becca-e-barnes]

Sub!bucky is so needy for you after you denied his orgasm a few days (he is so whiny 😩🥵)

And at night he’s having a wet dream of you and he doesn’t know that’s part of you evil plan… while he grinds his clothed dick at your palm you whisper some sexy things in his ears. When he cums he wakes up and you made his look like he was not your good boy 🥵🥵🥵🥵

I've actually been thinking about something similar recently! I just really love subby men eugh 🤤

I like to think you could make it a little more intense though because I prefer to imagine that you've been making him edge for a few days. You don't let him edge inside you, you both know he'd struggle too much. Instead, you lube up your hand and stroke him for hours, letting him fuck your fist until he's dribbled so much precum over you, your hand is unbearably slick and then you kiss his forehead before you tuck his aching cock back into his underwear.

No matter how much he whines and begs and pleads to be allowed to cum, you don't give in. He's not just being denied his orgasm, he's being worked towards it until he's right on the edge and then you give him absolutely nothing. Repeatedly. It's torture but fuck, he gets off on knowing his dick is yours. He doesn't cum without your permission. You completely own him.

He breaks after the sixth night of being relentlessly edged. You'd stroked his cock nice and slowly for hours that day, swirling your tongue over his tip and reminding him that he's the best boy. He was practically shaking by the time you both made it to bed.

His little whine of "Oh fuck, please." was the first thing you remember hearing when you woke up, quickly followed by "O-oh, oh yes."

At first you thought he must be touching himself; giving in to his own slutty thoughts when he thought you wouldn't find out.

As your sleepy brain slowly wakes up, you realise he's grinding against you, rubbing his throbbing cock against your bare ass, gripping your hips like there's no tomorrow. "Gonna cum. F-fuck, gonna cum." He's frantic, his head tucked in against your neck, his breath hot and erratic against your skin.

You can't have that. Absolutely not. You shuffle away from him, determined not to let him have what he needs and the second the contact between your bodies is broken, you hear him whine pathetically.

"Did you really think that would work out for you?" You tease quietly, turning to face him but that's when you realise his eyes are still closed. His brow is furrowed, very clearly still asleep.

You can't help but pity him. He's so desperate to cum, he's grinding against you in his sleep. He's done his very best to do as he's told but his body can't take it. He's been the best boy for you all week. The least you could do is grant him a little relief.

"You're such a good boy, Bucky." You whisper, pressing him gently onto his back, grasping his cock and letting the tip glide between your slick folds. Nothing feels better than this. You've missed it more than you thought you would this week.

"Such a pretty little slut." You line his tip up with your entrance and ever so slowly lower yourself down. "You're a mindless little fuck toy for me when you're like this. So horny, you can hardly even think straight. You've been like a needy fucking puppy for me all week. You just let your dick think for you, isn't that right? You know I could tell when you were zoning out and daydreaming about fucking me? You're so cute."

As you start to really fuck yourself on him, Bucky seems to moan himself awake.

"Please." He begs, and it sounds so pretty when he says it. "Please, I'm so close. I'm gonna cum. I can't cum inside you. There's gonna be so much."

"Oh sweetheart, that's what I want. I want you to fill me. Stuff my cunt full of cum. I thought I told you how badly I want a baby."

[carefulfears]

what do you consider the heart of californication? like really carries through the series & makes it compelling

thank you for this question, i really love it. to me, it's a number of things, starting with that the show cares deeply about hank and takes him seriously in a way that the culture doesn't. in a way, yes, he's their dog and pony show with the funny one-liners and the salacious pull. but the arc of the series is unequivocally aligned with him and his desires and his needs and his values.

hank wants to be with his family, wants to be better for them, wants to not let them down- and the show needs him to fail at all of those things. for the dog and pony of it all, for their viewership and for their thesis and for the food in their mouths, but it simultaneously feels bad that he is failing. simultaneously knows that this isn't what he wants, and that it's sad. and it can be as simple as a dream sequence or a look or a quiet final scene, but every single episode is ultimately going to remind you that everything you're laughing at is a loss.

which, like i said at the top, speaks to a level of respect that the show had for the character that is just gone in discussions of the series. they take the time to recognize that he is missing something. he is losing something and he is without everything that means anything to him, this is the cost. equally important, duchovny respects that character and understands the same.

i was listening to an interview last night (trish you heard this) where he was speaking with some podcast dudebros and one of the hosts said that he always wanted to be just like hank moody, and then he made some "bad decisions" and got there, and he doesn't like it. and duchovny said that every time people come up to him saying "i'm just like hank moody," he says "i'm sorry."

men watch and they want to be just like hank moody and women watch and they want to fuck hank moody so bad, and all of you miss what the source comprehends: that it's an irreparable deficit.

other than that, i feel like what roots that show is that it really isn't all that cynical. not in the way that it could be. and the show believes in hank.

there is a lot of kindness and hope (often false hope) that runs underneath most every relationship and interaction and dynamic in the series and i really really appreciate that about it. it's like in the pilot when hank is being mean and he wants marcy to yell at him and she just says "go home, honey. sleep it off. tomorrow's another day."

there's always a little bit of understanding and grace amongst the crazies and i think there's something really special about that

[becca4leafclover]

My brother: so how does it feel that you come back from college on break and encourage your brother to 3D print a sex toy?

Me: that has Dwayne the Rock Johnson's face on it.

My brother: that has Dwayne the Rock Johnson's face on it!!

[becca-but-bitty]

Some quick thumbnail-ish sketches to help me figure out designs for a new giant oc hehehehehe :]

[fallingformenow]

i don’t know, maybe i’m just used to people saying the roughest things to cari, even to her face (i know she’s kind of to blame for that) so people talking about becca going to cari’s concert (without even tagging them) doesn’t feel like drama to me, because becca listens to cari’s music or used to listen

I dislike anyone with bad intentions talking about them on twitter because they see everything even if they're not tagged... I'm not saying that saying shit to cari is okay either btw

[mycharacterdump]

𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐄 + 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐀

You were screaming at the Evangelicals They were screaming right back from what I remember When you said I will never be your vegetable Because I think when you're gone it's forever But you know I'd stand on the corner Embarrassed with a picket sign If it meant I would see you When I die.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 9)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: mommy kink, rough sex, bondage, spanking, oral, overstimulation

Taglist: @stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos

You don’t hear from Agatha after that for a day and a half. 

You can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. Was it making her pull over on the side of the road because your needy cunt was begging to be filled by her cock? Was it taking her hand with yours and holding it for the rest of the drive to get pizza? She didn’t seem to mind in either moment. 

Nothing else had happened Monday night once you two had come back to the house. She had given you a chaste kiss in the car, telling you to behave, and you had. The hug you’d given her before you left for the night was the picture of appropriateness. 

Everything had been fine, so why was she icing you out like this? 

It’s sixth period on Wednesday when you finally get a response from her. 

You’re sitting in Biology, textbook standing straight on your desk to hide your phone, staring at your messages with Agatha. 

You’ve sent probably close to thirty texts since Monday night, all of them going unanswered. You were confused at first, then angry, then sad, these emotions spilling into your various messages. 

I had a really nice time with you tonight ;) 

Hey, everything okay? 

Agatha what the fuck 

I’m sorry for whatever I did, please just talk to me. 

You’re wondering if you should send another one now when suddenly, the bubble with three dots pops up. 

She’s typing. 

For the first time in a day and a half, she’s not actively ignoring you. You hold your breath, almost afraid to keep watching. 

Sorry I haven’t replied. Come over after school? 

No explanation for the radio silence. You feel bitter and debate not answering just so she gets some kind of semblance of the hell you’ve been going through. 

But it’s Agatha and she has you under her spell. You can’t imagine not obeying.

Okay. You type back. 

You get a gut feeling that tells you something is wrong. 

Fuck. Did your dad find out about you two? The thought sends your heart racing and nausea climbs into your throat. 

You tell yourself that surely your dad would’ve said something to you if he had found out that you and his wife were fucking. This rational thought helps a little bit but you know that something isn’t right. So if it’s not that, then what is it?

You completely pour over every single interaction you’ve had with Agatha and this consumes you until the last bell of the day rings. You don’t even remember walking across the hall to seventh period but you clearly must have. 

On the drive to your dad’s house, a pit grows in your stomach with every turn that brings you closer to an inevitable confrontation. You absolutely hate conflict.  

You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Your palms are sweaty and your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. You remind yourself to breathe. 

Agatha opens the door and moves to the side to let you in. “Hey,” she says quietly. 

And that sets you off. “‘Hey?’ That’s all you’re going to say? I haven’t heard from you since Monday! I texted you like a million times and you say ‘hey?’ What the actual fuck, Agatha?” 

Pain flashes in her eyes and then it’s gone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Things were happening, I was busy.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Were you also busy when you fucked me in your bed? In your car? When I went down on you on the couch and made you cum harder than my dad ever did?” You wish you hadn’t brought up all those memories because now you’re angry and turned on. 

At the mention of your dad, she grabs your wrist with a bruising grip and drags you upstairs. She brings you into her room and shoves you against the wall with unnecessary roughness, her lips catching yours in a harsh kiss. She bites your lip so hard that your mouth fills with blood and you hate how hot you find it when she licks it off her own lips. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, seeing the black glint in her eyes. Something is off. 

But she doesn’t answer, only slides her hand up to clasp your throat. Your breath hitches in spite of yourself and her eyes darken. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” you say without thinking. You know you shouldn’t let her touch you until she explains herself, but you are too desperate to feel her hands on you again. Her face lights up in a wicked way and she leads you to the bed and shoves you down so your stomach is on the bed, ass in the air. She flips your skirt up and you shiver at the cold air on your bottom. 

You can almost hear her grin as she slides her fingers up and down your covered slit. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve become from her practically manhandling you. 

“Good,” she says and her hand cracks down on your ass. You gasp and lurch forward on the bed, the sting clearing all the thoughts in your head. 

“Fuck!” 

Her hand tangles in your hair and she pulls you up so your back is now flush against her front. “Count for me,” she whispers lowly in your ear and then lets you go so you fall back onto the bed. 

“One,” you say weakly. 

She spanks you again and your hands grapple with the bed sheets. 

“Two.” 

Again. 

“Three.” The pain has started bleeding into pleasure and you begin slowly rocking your hips against the bed to release some of the tension building between your legs. 

“Ah, ah,” she tuts, hands grabbing your waist, holding you still. Her fingers dig into the skin and you inhale sharply. “Don’t move.” 

“Mommy,” you beg, panting for more. You have to tense your muscles so you don’t start grinding again after she slaps you again. “Four.” 

“Almost done, sweetheart,” she coos, rubbing her hands on your ass cheeks, soothing the burn. Agatha literally has to peel your underwear off because of how wet you are. She then spreads your thighs even more and takes in the sight of you. “Oh, baby, you like this a lot, don’t you? You’re dripping onto the bed.”

You keen and nod your head pathetically. 

“Last one. You’re being such a good girl for mommy.” 

You arch your back in preparation, but this time, she smacks her hand straight on your pussy, fingers landing directly on your clit. You cum from just the bit of stimulation with a guttural moan and she watches in awe as your body contorts. 

“Five,” you say weakly, once you’ve come down from your wave of pleasure, just in case she wants you too. She laughs and flips you over, not giving you any time to recover before burying her head between your legs. Your back shoots off the bed and your hands immediately find purchase in her hair when her tongue gives you a filthy lick but she stops. 

“No touching,” she warns. 

“But, mommy!” you protest. 

She stands up and walks to her nightstand, your cunt cold against the air now that she’s not near you. 

Agatha pulls something out and walks back over to you. “Move to the top of the bed,” she instructs. You do without hesitation. She climbs on top of you, showing you the two lines of rope that were behind her back. You whimper involuntarily. “Are you okay with this?” 

“Yes,” you rasp, too quickly and she chuckles evilly. She leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips and then she makes quick work of tying you to the bed banisters. 

“Not too tight?” She checks and you move your wrists experimentally. You feel like with the right amount of force, you could free yourself if you needed to. 

“They’re good,” you say, voice clouded with lust. “Can you–” And then you stop, unsure if it’s okay to ask. 

“What do you want, baby girl?” Her fingers stroke your thighs reassuringly. 

“Canyoufuckmewithyourcock,” you spit out. She raises an eyebrow, silently prodding you to slow down. You try again, forcing yourself to pause after each word. “Can you fuck me with your cock?” 

She groans out loud. “Such a good girl, using your words like that. Since you took my spanking so well, I think I can arrange that.” She goes back to the same drawer where the restraints were and pulls out her harness and strap. She shimmies out of her pants and hastily gets ready for you. Your hips have started undulating ever so slightly in anticipation. 

She climbs back on the bed, rubs her strap-on against your opening to lube it up, and then slowly pushes in. You immediately feel better with the fullness, your anxiety at Agatha’s weird silence the last few days ebbing away. She gives you a second to adjust to the size and then starts fucking you like an unhinged woman. 

She snaps her hips with every fast thrust, pulling a strangled noise out of you each time. You’re both panting with the exertion and one of her hands finds your throat again. She squeezes and your cunt clenches around her cock, making it harder for her to move. 

“Mommy, fuck, yes,” you sob, the pleasure making you lightheaded. All of your senses are completely overridden by her. All you can feel is Agatha and you wish more than anything you could touch her. But being tied up and completely at her mercy is driving you absolutely crazy. “I’m so close.” 

You can feel her smirking against your skin where she’s leaving bite marks and then soothing the spots with her lips. She keeps fucking you just right. 

“Don’t cum yet,” she says, voice gruff. You whine and she grabs your chin with the hand that was around your throat and turns it roughly so you’re making eye contact with her. “Who do you belong to?” 

She picks up the intensity of her thrusts, if possible. You’re teetering on the edge. “You, mommy, only you!” You wail. 

“Good girl,” she purrs. “Cum for me.” As if you’d be able to stop yourself. 

Your second orgasm hits you much more intensely and you can’t stop chanting her name as she fucks you through it. Your mind goes blank for a second in the bliss. 

She pulls out slowly, leaving a gaping emptiness inside you. It doesn’t stay that way for long, though, because after she takes the strap and harness off and throws them across the room, Agatha moves down the bed and thrust her tongue into you. She sucks your clit into her mouth and you gasp at the stimulation. It’s too much as she eats you out with renewed fervor.  

“Mommy, fuck,” you mewl and strain your wrists against the ties. “It hurts.” 

She pauses for a moment to look up at you through hooded eyelashes. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

You nod meekly and she grins, diving back between your folds. It doesn’t take much for her to coax you back to the edge and a few minutes later, you’re crying out her name when you cum for the third time, her hot mouth knowing exactly what to do to make you scream. 

You wince as she gives you one last lick and then she climbs up to pull you into a deep kiss. Her tongue moves into your mouth with raw hunger and you go to put your hands around her before you remember that you’re tied up. Agatha notices that you’re struggling and smirks before untying you. You move your stiff arms around to get the blood flow back. 

“How was that?” Agatha murmurs. 

“Really good,” you answer honestly. Your brow furrows. “Are you okay? You seem a little off.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just lies down on her back on the bed. She motions at you and you cuddle against her body, head resting on her shoulder. Her arm comes around you and you draw soft patterns on her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her warm skin. 

You almost forget that you asked her anything and you’re about to drift off to sleep when she whispers, “Your father is having an affair.” 

[1d1195]

Green Skies, Pink Grass

~2.6k words

From me: Going with another one shot for Monday. This very much jumps into the middle of a storyline that I'll never write but just wanted to post something small in between Most updates.

Warnings: jealousy, enemies(?) to lovers

Summary: It is very obvious Harry gets enjoyment out of irritating her. But not when she can't take it anymore.

“Excuse me,” she approached like she owned the table. She slid right between Harry and the girl that was talking to him. She stood at the corner of the square table made for four. But there were only two, Harry and the girl that had every right to be sitting at one of the right angles so they could be closer together.

For nearly the entire night, she watched another girl touch Harry’s arm and flirt with her eyes as they spoke. All while he leaned close and whispered God knows what. Who knew what secrets he was telling her. The stuff that she dreamed of knowing and not just figuring out from her friends or him taunting her. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Rebecca,” she stated and looked around her intruding body so she could peek at Harry. This was ridiculous. She was talking to him and there was no reason for her to have intruded like that and get in between Harry and him. Everyone knew they didn’t like each other. Of all the people that could have taken his attention from her it couldn’t have been the girl that wanted to wring his neck.

Her backside was directly in front of Harry’s vision. He paid nearly no mind to the intrusion—almost like he expected it. In fact, he took the moment to sip his drink because while he wasn’t proud of it, he was extremely grateful for the reaction it caused from her. All night he felt her stare from across the restaurant. Her gaze bored into him. It was painful how long it took to come to this in his opinion. Now he couldn’t wait to see what she was going to do next. She didn’t even flinch as she approached; her sure-footed steps had her heels clicking across the floor with a power that made Harry’s body warm over. The confidence she had was so sexy. The only thing that could have made the current interaction better than having her perfect ass right in front of his face, would have been being able to see her pretty, angry face as she glared at the girl he was chatting with. “Can I help you?” Becca asked.

Harry smirked, grateful neither one of them could see him because he was very much looking forward to this.

“Yeah, umm…” she swallowed that swagger and confidence suddenly wavering.

Harry wasn’t hers. Not by a long shot. They argued about almost everything there was to argue about. They had opposite movie tastes. He never took her suggestion for making dinner recipes better. His driving directions to get somewhere the fastest were always different than hers. She swore he would argue the sky was green if given half the chance. They weren’t that close, but Niall was her favorite coworker and quite possibly her best friend. But that meant she had to spend an infinite amount of time with his best friend, Harry.

She could have taken all his misgivings in stride, honestly. Tt wouldn’t have been that bad nor hard to have. She liked a bit of a challenge in her life. If Harry hadn’t looked down on her the first time that they met, they might not have been on this frustrating path of annoying one another.

It was no secret that Harry was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever met. His handshake was warm and firm but that was as far as his warmth went—at least when it came to her. She wasn’t oblivious to the way his voice sounded when he talked about his mum, sister, or niece. He donated to a ton of charities and was constantly helping his friends.

It was just her.

He was cold and standoffish the day they met. It hurt. Mainly because Niall told her that she would love him, and she was excited to make a new friend. How often did someone in their late twenties make new friends?

But after their introduction and awkward silences while Niall tried to get them chatting about their similarities instead of their differences, she overheard him whispering to Niall in the kitchen while they got plates and drinks for the pizza they ordered. Only catching some of the words that included dislike, irritating, and know-it-all. She prided herself on being kind, never making anyone feel inferior, but Harry made it seem like a fault and didn’t see her that way at all.

Harry wondered where she was possibly going to go with her irritation at Becca. Only moments before the evening began, she wanted to strangle him. He could see it in her eyes and knew she truly thought about wrapping her hands around his throat because he made some comment about her not getting fucked properly in front of Niall. He smiled impishly at her as the rage filled her eyes. It made her eye twitch in that cute way of hers. The way that made him want to keep pissing her off so it would continue twitching. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch just next to her eye and hope that it would make her crazier but also so he could ease that tension all the same.

But it was clear she was lost here. There was no follow through for this moment and seeing Miss Prim & Proper discombobulated was one of Harry’s favorite kinds of sights. But even still, she didn’t deserve to be this lost. It wasn’t her fault the little envious monster took hold of her without a way out of the situation.

“Hey love,” he hummed quietly, pressed a hand on her lower back. She stepped away like he shocked her—or stabbed her. Her eyes were wild as she glanced at Harry briefly. He smiled, his lips straining a little too much to keep him from smiling mischievously—just like before they entered the restaurant. That little quirk that made her eye start to twitch just the same as well.

 That stupid dimple, that knowing look. She wanted to strangle him again.

He knew what she was feeling all too well. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened tonight, but he knew the irksome feeling that heated his stomach and chest when anyone bought her a drink or complimented her smile while he was in earshot.

It was a beautiful smile, but it made him sick to hear other people say it to her and not him.

“Do you have something to say or what? I was talking to Harry.”

Perhaps the alcohol she had ingested was cause for the bravery that resulted in her walking across the restaurant and planning to tell the girl off. But what was she supposed to say? Harry wasn’t hers. There was nothing she could say that would deter Rebecca from spending time with him. Nothing to stop Harry from spending time with Rebecca.

It seemed Harry noticed she was floundering but for once he didn’t make fun of her nor antagonize her further. Instead, without warning, there was a warm hand on the small of her back. “Kitten,” he hummed. His voice was low, directly in her ear, and full of caution. “Let’s go,” he pressed his fingers into her back in effort to get her away from the table. “Sorry, Becca, I gotta go,” he grabbed his drink, tossing the remaining sip back and settling it back on the table.

She said nothing, glaring at her feet with heated cheeks. While the woman who had taken Harry’s attention but wasn’t going to keep it smiled bitterly. “You’re really going to leave? Just because she interrupted?” Harry ignored her, rolled his eyes but not even the girl he had his hands on could see it.

Harry’s lack of response made her burn with anger more and she wished she knew why she went over to interrupt them. Harry was behind her, his body so close to hers she thought a piece of paper couldn’t fit between them. “Wow can’t even fight back—”

She started to move back for Rebecca, but Harry yanked her closer to him. Not even a molecule of air could have fit between them, before she could even take a full step. His arm was wrapped around the front of her stomach, his lips went directly to her earlobe. “M’here, kitten. She’s not worth y’time,” he assured her. “Walk,” he ordered quietly. Normally, she would fight back and tell him not to order her around. But the alcohol in her system simultaneously subdued her anger toward Harry and amplified it toward everyone else. So she walked.

She could hear the way Rebecca laughed calling her pathetic loudly to anyone that walked by. Harry snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly each time he heard one of Rebecca’s taunts and the following pull of her muscles to turn around to continue her chat with her.

Once they were out of the restaurant, he continued to usher her up the road away from the offensive restaurant. There was a cool chill in the air that hadn’t been there when they entered the venue. Confident she wouldn’t make a break for it and return to give Becca a piece of her mind, Harry released her briefly.

In an instant, he pulled his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her waist again. He gave her a warm squeeze then walked beside her; his other hand stuffed in his pocket. They didn't speak as they walked. After a block and a half, she bit the inside of her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Harry hadn't ever heard an apology directed at him from her mouth. "Am I dead?" He murmured.

She sighed. "I don't know what came over me," she admitted.

Harry knew. He knew because he knew exactly how she was feeling. "Yeah," he nodded.

More silence followed and they just kept walking. The shoes she was wearing weren’t really conducive to a city walk but she was willing to have a blister on each toe and her heel if it meant Harry’s warm arm and a jacket that smelled like him was going to be wrapped around her. “Did you like her?” She asked.

Harry smirked. “She was fine.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Kitten,” he chuckled. “She was fine, but I’d’ve much preferred you sitting next t’me all night.”

“But you don’t like me.”

Harry snorted. “Honestly, right now, I don’t. Think I could throw y’into traffic for such a remark. What are y’talking ‘bout, love? M’obsessed with you,” he rolled his eyes.

“Obsessed?”

“Obsessed.”

Her heart fluttered. She stopped walking. Mainly because her feet hurt, but also because she was floored that he admitted such a thing. After all the time she spent wondering why he taunted her and made her want to strangle him. Her voice shook as she asked her next question. Because it was mean spirited of him. “Is this a trick? Like that time Niall was setting me up on a date and you convinced me I got the date wrong, and I sat at the coffee shop for hours before—”

Harry chuckled at the memory. Proud of his handy work and grateful she didn’t go on a date with that prick (who was actually a really nice guy that probably deserved her more than Harry did). “No, s’not a trick.”

She was staring at him like he had ten heads and honestly there was nothing better than seeing her little eye twitch. “You like me?” She asked.

“Very much, kitten,” he nodded and stuffed both hands in his pockets while she processed this.

“Can we sit? These shoes are killing me,” she frowned. Harry followed her to the bench out in front of a closed café. He reached for her feet and unclipped the strap from one ankle then the other.

“You really like me?” She asked again while Harry untied his dress shoes. Harry had this thing about always wearing two pairs of socks. It alleviated blisters, of his own dress shoes and there had been countless times Gemma hated her own high heels after a long night at a family wedding. He slid off the top pair and put them on her feet without fanfare.

“I really like you,” he assured her.

“But you...” She frowned, her stomach aching at the kindness he was showing her. Finally. The nice thing about the cute little sock thing he was doing? She had never seen him do it for anyone else. This was a treat for her as far as she knew. He retied his shoes and settled her feet back to the sidewalk. He held her shoes beside him on the bench.

“I what?” His smile was adorable, mischievous as always, dimple appearing cutely in his left cheek, but it didn’t make her eye twitch and even though he missed it, he liked her soft expression, analyzing him more.

“You said I was a know-it-all. And... irritating.”

“You are irritating,” she glared at him so cutely, he wanted to take a picture of her and make it his phone background and print it on a poster to hang on the ceiling above his bed. “When did I call y’irritating?”

“When you met me. You said you disliked me."

He tilted his head. “Do y’mean at Niall’s?” She nodded. He was clearly processing that and tried to think back. She was finally quiet, while he thought. Didn't try to further their discussion because part of her thought she would turn it into an argument just by accident. “Is that why y’always keep me a foot away from you? Why y’never let me get a word in? Why y’argue with everything I say? Swear y’would tell me the grass is pink jus’ t’argue,” She didn’t dare dignify that with a response. Or that she felt the same way. Harry tugged her legs back up and shifted her so she draped across his lap. His arm around her back while her bum warmed his thigh. He brought his hand slowly up her leg, over the socks he had put on her that looked ridiculous with her dress. His fingers skimmed over her knee and up her thigh while his eyelids hooded his gaze as he followed the path of his hand. He tickled her skin, his fingers circling her wrist in her own lap before he brought it to his shoulder. Then he brought his fingers to her face, cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’m going t’kiss y’now,” he murmured. “Because m’not going t’explain how ridiculous y’are for thinking the first time I met you I called you irritating, or that I disliked you...or thought you were a know-it-all.”

She blushed. “Oh...” she swallowed feeling woozy Harry's face was so close to hers. He smelled so good. He looked so good.

“Don’t y’think it was much more likely I called Niall an irritating know-it-all that I would fall so hard for you and I disliked how right he was?” She remained silent, dropped her gaze again, until Harry tilted her chin up once more. “You are irritating,” he murmured his mouth a breath away from hers. He could feel the warmth of her lips pulling an invisible string to his. Like he had already touched them without touching them. “But I love when y’irritate me,” he assured her and closed that final breath between their lips.

The sky could be green. The grass could be pink. Harry was done arguing with her about it.

--

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[alloftheimaginesblog]

Headcanons for Billy Butcher having feelings for you...

He doesn't want to. After Becca, he never wants to feel that way again; never wants to feel vulnerable and feel like he's at fault for the other person getting hurt.

So, he does what he always does. He drinks and tries to ignore it. Pushes those feelings to the back of his mind, stamping on them whenever they bubble up to the surface.

He's cold to you, nasty sometimes. He goes too far and ends up insulting you or making you upset. He doesn't mean it. He's scared and he's protecting not only himself but you also. He pushes you away.

MM and Frenchie see right through it though and Hughie isn't far behind in figuring it out.

They're actually encouraging him to maybe tell you.

"It might make you less of an asshole if you tell them." MM says with a roll of the eyes, "Maybe."

"Maybe love is what you need, mon amie." Frenchie agrees.

"Why don't you give it another go?" Hughie asks, the ever hopeful one, "Love's a great thing."

"Love got Becca killed." Butcher says and it's end of conversation.

He watches you when he thinks you don't notice. Secret glances from across the room.

He's protective of you but plays it off as though he thinks you'd get in the way when really he's just trying to look out for you.

One night, you've both been drinking and you've had enough. You turn and you snap, "Alright, Butcher, what the fuck is your problem?!"

"You are!" He yells back, "You're my damn problem!"

You begin to argue until it all comes to a head with Butcher screaming his confession at you, "Because if you get hurt, that's on me and I can't! I- I can't lose you..."

You're shocked to the say the least but by the time you've processed what he said, he's gone.

He disappears for a few days. No word or no contact.

All you can think about is what he said. You ask the boys about it and they confirm what Butcher had yelled at you.

"He won't admit it, the stubborn shit," MM nods, "but yeah, he's in love with you."

It drives you insane over the next few days because you don't understand. You don't understand Butcher, you don't understand how he can hate you but actually love you?!

Then one day, he swaggers in through the doors, "Daddy's home, cunts."

You try to pin him down to chat one on one but he's wise and he dodges your plans. He manages to escape every single time. He doesn't want to talk about it, that's obvious but you have to. You need to know.

Any time you manage to bring it up, he shuts down. He doesn't speak which is worse than him being mean. You hate that he shuts down.

"Butcher, for fuck's sake!" You scream, annoyed that for the fourth time that you'd tried to have this conversation he was once again mute, "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, princess? Tell me something I don't know."

You get so mad that your empty whisky glass gets thrown to the other side of the room, "You- You're impossible! You confess that you're in love with me after all this time of me thinking you hate my guts then you disappear! You leave me for days and days and I'm confused and trying to figure out my feelings for you and when you come back and I'm ready to give things a shot, you shut down?! Well, grow a pair, Butcher! Suck it up! You're so scared of me getting hurt but you're already hurting me doing this!"

He looks crushed. It's one of those rare moments where he doesn't hide his emotions with a smirk or a crude remark. His emotions are clear on his face, he is devastated that he's ended up hurting you by trying to keep you safe.

He doesn't say anything for a minute and neither do you until he says very quietly, "I'm sorry, alright? Never meant for you to be hurt, thought I was protecting you."

"I don't want your protection, Butcher."

"Yeah?" He stands up and walks towards you, "What do you want then?"

He stops in front of you and you find all of your anger, all of your frustration disappears and you utter one word before his lips crash into yours, "You."

[becca-e-barnes]

I can't bring myself to think of anything except a submissive dbf Bucky on his knees, shirtless and just short of begging to be allowed to touch you. (Probably inspired by this tiktok that I've watched SO many times)

Even his very first kiss is frantic. He usually starts off gentle; almost tentative but within minutes he's holding the back of your head, keeping you close and it's such an indulgent kiss, it makes your head swim.

"Fuck." His mouth latches onto your neck, groaning quietly when he realises you already have the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone. He's already lost any desire he might have had to take this slowly.

You pull him back up to kiss your lips with a hand gently cradling the back of his neck. He doesn't voice any objections, following your lead and letting his warm lips slide over yours until your tongue teases his.

He's practically melting already and it's so rewarding to watch how easily he crumbles. Your lips don't part from his while he shrugs his shirt off and as soon as his neck is free of the collar, your hand replaces it.

His eyes open when you start to apply pressure to the outside of his throat, careful to avoid pressing on any of the more delicate structures. "Harder." He needs this. You have no problem indulging him.

"You're so good for me." He's flushed already but you swear the praise makes his cheeks blaze even hotter. His lips are pink and slick and he's long since forgotten his need to kiss you. Up until you use your grip on his neck to direct him to kneel on the carpet.

You let go of his throat, the release of pressure gives him a head rush and it's written all over his face. He's looking up at you expectantly, desperate to know what's coming next. Are you going to tease him about being so submissive? Slap his face a little? Spit in his mouth maybe? A little part of him isn't sure what he'd prefer more.

You do none of the above though. Instead, you perch on the edge of the bed while you play with his hair, letting the seconds tick past, not saying a word.

He almost feels deprived of touch, going from so much to so little in a short space of time. Your knees are pressed tightly together but he kisses up one of your bare legs regardless, worshipping every inch of skin he can press his mouth to.

"Spread your legs." It's only a quiet murmur but his tone is off. He's not in a position to be making any demands.

"Who do you think you're talking to?" It's almost funny that he thinks he'll get what he wants by addressing you like that.

"Spread your legs please." The emphasis seems genuine. He engaged his mouth before he engaged his brain. It happens and you forgive him, parting your thighs and letting him shift the skirt of your dress out of the way.

You hadn't bothered to wear underwear. It only gets in the way and Bucky seemed appreciative that he didn't have to waste any time taking it off you.

"You're so wet already." This wasn't news to you. Even just the thought of him on his knees for you is enough to get you worked up, never mind the reality.

One of your hands instinctively settles on the back of his head and you feel him start to glide his tongue over your slick sex. He kisses your body like he did your lips earlier. The pressure and intensity feels indulgent, long strokes of his tongue that allow him to taste you the way he's been dreaming of.

The slick sounds are obscene. His quiet moans are filthy. He sinks two thick fingers into your body, curling them while his tongue laps at your clit and you can't help the way your legs shake.

The pointed tip of your shoe presses gently to the front of his trousers and he gratefully grinds against the sole. His pleasure can't and won't be forgotten, although it seems like that wasn't a concern of his anyway.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [27] - Midnight

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some arguments have more tension than others.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship (I'm serious, they have issues), mentions of sex and fighting. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

As it turned out, your plan to make your cousin look weak was working.

The first hit was an absolute success, and Ian was already crumbling. It was lucky for you that your father wasn’t getting involved and was giving him a chance to prove himself after the first attack to the shipment, because Ian was acting exactly the way you thought he would act.

Good.

It was going to make things much easier.

Bucky had dropped by to the apartment in the middle of the day to go take a shower which was quite surprising but judging by the blood stains on his shirt, it was needed. You were sitting comfortably on the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table with a book in your lap when he came into the living room and made a beeline to you to fling himself on the couch as well, pushing your book away to put his head in your lap. You pulled your brows together, tilting your head.

“Can I help you?”

If you didn’t know it better, you would’ve thought he was pouting.

“I need like five minutes to rest my eyes,” he murmured with his eyes closed. “How someone can be so goddamn stubborn, I’ll never understand.”

“Ah,” you said. “This can only be about—”

“Becca.”

You nodded your head. “What happened?”

“Mom wants to meet her girlfriend and Becca is acting like that’s a natural disaster.”

“Hurricane Winnifred,” you muttered and Bucky opened his eyes to look up at you, but then closed them again when you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair to play with it.

“Can you tell her she’s being nonsense?”

“I don’t think she’s being nonsense,” you told him. “Have you met your mother?”

“She’ll be nice.”

“Like fuck she will.”

“She’s nice to you.”

“Because she knows I won’t be nice if she won’t,” you told him. “Leila on the other hand…she’s way too polite.”

Bucky hummed and looked up at you again.

“Is Becca serious about her?”

“Oh absolutely,” you said. “Picket fence house and all that nonsense.”

“With a civilian,” Bucky mumbled. “That’s going to be fun.”

“Becca would never get with someone in the business, you know that.”

“Oh I know that, but I don’t think my parents do,” Bucky said. “They still hope it will happen.”

“Winnifred and my aunt would get along well,” you muttered. “Both boy moms.”

“So are a lot of people.”

“No there’s a difference between a boy mom and a boy mom.”

“You make zero sense, Charm.”

You shrugged your shoulders, still playing with his hair but his phone buzzed, making him let out a groan.

“No!”

“You’ll be fine,” you said and he sat up with a sigh, his eyes darting over the lines before he chuckled.

“Jesus, he really is the worst heir ever.”

“Ian?”

“Guess where he’s routing the next shipment.”

You frowned. “Where?”

“West side second dock.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Has your father never taught him anything, seriously?” he asked and you covered your mouth.

“West side second dock, Jesus Christ…”

“I’d better have a decoy shipment then,” Bucky murmured. “Just in case.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you said. “The cops will follow that shipment and bust it with any other shipment that day.”

“I’ll talk to my guys in the force, let’s see how that plays out.”

“Both us and the cops winning,” you mused. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“They’re not winning, it’s just going to be their small victory so that they’ll shut up for a while,” Bucky said as he stood up. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure,” you said as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll meet my dad but I’ll be home around dinner time.”

“Have fun,” he said and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a sigh.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

                                                    *

Your lunch with your father was pretty interesting, because you knew he was trying his hardest not to let you know about the so-called attack, but he was way too tense for you to think everything was going well. You took a look at the bodyguards in the restaurant, then sipped your rosé, leaning back.

“So,” you said. “How is everything with the business?”

He shot you a look.

“You took longer than I thought you would,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m just making small talk—”

“Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine,” you said. “I heard about the attack.”

“Of course you did,” he muttered more to himself, then sipped his drink. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

You tried to control your expression.

“I know,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Do we know who’s behind the attack?”

“Not yet,” he said. “We’re searching for it though.”

Tension churned at your stomach but you nodded your head calmly.

“What shipment was it?” you asked. “You normally have multiple men around the perimeter, but Bucky said it looked like a sneak attack. How did they get past your people? Did they kill them?”

Your father licked his lips and heaved a sigh.

“Ian was responsible of that shipment,” he said, making you arch a brow. “He must’ve—Y/N.”

“What?” you asked innocently and he licked his lips.

“He will stumble a bit, everyone does when they first start taking responsibilities.”

You hummed.

“Funny,” you said. “I didn’t notice that with Bucky. Or Sam. Or Steve.”

“Ian is a bit more…enthusiastic to prove himself than they were, perhaps.”

You tried not to grimace at the blatant lie and took another sip so that you could control your expression.

“I’ve been told he’s fixing the situation,” your father said. “He’s much more angry at the situation than you or me.”

“But are you angry?”

“It happened in my territory, and it was my shipment, my business that they attacked,” your father said even though his voice was calm. “Of course I am angry.”

Guilt burned at your stomach but you knew you couldn’t let it affect you; what you and Bucky had done was necessary.

It wasn’t just your father’s business, it was going to be yours one day and you had to prove that Ian was a terrible option.

For the business, and the city.

One of the bodyguards came closer to mutter something to his ear and he nodded, then wiped at his mouth.

“Duty calls,” he said and you took another sip of your wine, then put the glass on the table.

“Alright.”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“No need, my driver is here,” you said as you both walked out of the restaurant. He hugged you and you kissed him on the cheek.

“Be careful.”

“Always am,” he said and one of the bodyguards opened the door for you, but before you got in, you heard your father’s voice again.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to look at him better. “Yeah?”

“How would you prevent it?” he asked. “If it was your shipment?”

A smug grin threatened to pull at your lips but you bit inside your cheek, then heaved a sigh.

“Twenty men around the perimeter,” you said. “Additional ten in every half mile, three hour shifts in rotation. Couple of cops under our pay in the outer skirts, preferably by the bridge and at least three people watching the street footage so that we would know the license plates of every car that gets a bit too close for future reference.”

He blinked a couple of times, the impressed expression on his face impossible to miss and you felt your stomach do a happy flip, then shrugged your shoulder, forcing yourself to focus.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you told him. “I’m not your heir, am I?”

With that, you got in the car and the bodyguard closed the door, the driver starting the car immediately. You grinned to yourself and leaned back in the seat as the car started moving through the street smoothly and you closed your eyes.

“Yet,” you corrected yourself. “I’m not your heir yet.”

                                            *

Bucky had texted you, saying he would miss dinner because of a meeting taking long so you had ordered some takeout, curled up on the couch with Alpine in your lap. Towards midnight he still hadn’t come home so you texted him only for him to text back the meeting was still going on, and you picked a show to bingewatch in the meantime.

For some reason you liked it when Bucky was beside you on the bed when you went to sleep.

You were so focused on the episode that you hadn’t even noticed when your phone buzzed, so when you saw the text notification from Ian, you frowned slightly.

You and Ian didn’t really text each other.

You touched the notification and sat up straighter much to Alpine’s meow of protest the moment you saw the picture of Bucky and Anna by the docks. Bucky was leaning back against the car with Anna right beside him, laughing at what you could only assume something he said.

From: Ian

Ouch. Didn’t last long huh?

Fury spread through you so fast that it made your head spin and you stood up from the couch, Alpine jumping to the floor as well. Your jaw clenched as you zoomed into the picture, then ran a hand over your face.

Of course.

The so called meeting was just a fucking excuse.

You didn’t even know why you were getting so angry, after all this whole thing was just a business deal but that was the thing; you two had a deal. That was his only request going into this marriage, that you two wouldn’t see anyone else behind each other’s back but there he was, breaking the same rule he had implemented. A mob boss not being faithful wasn’t supposed to be a surprise; you had grown up seeing it over and over again, Bucky’s own father included but this?

This was disrespect, and the fact that Ian was the one telling you about it made it so much worse.

You tried to see through the fury pounding in your head, tossed the phone aside and dug your fingernails into your palms, gritting your teeth.

That motherfucker.

How dare he?

By the time the front door opened, you had been pacing in the living room for the last half an hour, still lost in your own anger but Bucky’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Honey I’m home,” he joked as he walked in and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him tilt his head.

“What happened?”

Even if anger was radiating off of you and you knew that he could tell, you managed to smile but you had a feeling it was more of a snarl.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, your voice eerily calm and he licked his lips.

“It was fine?” he said like a question. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to be shot?”

You walked to the couch to grab your phone, then found the pic, your hands nearly shaking as you tossed him the phone with more force than necessary. His gaze fell on the screen before he looked at you again.

“You put people on my tail?”

“You fucking asshole!” you lunged at him but he had the same training as you had – probably heavier considering the cage fight- because he caught you basically in mid-air and twisted your arm, then pushed you before you could grab him.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You know what the psychiatrist said about open communication, let’s talk about this.”

“You’re going behind my back?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, it was a business—”

“Bullshit!”

“A business meeting,” he said as you took off your earrings to toss them aside, making him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Charm baby, let’s not.”

“Oh no, let’s,” you said as you jumped over the coffee table but he caught your leg before you could reach him and threw you easily to the corner of the room. You landed on your feet just as easily but the vase by the corner fell off its stand to smash into pieces. Bucky’s bodyguards by the hallway must’ve heard the noise because the door slammed open, Hannah and Paul walking inside with their guns raised.

“Mr. Barnes?”

“Leave,” Bucky ordered, rolling his shoulders back as you gritted your teeth and pulled the pocket knife out of your waistband, flipping it open.

“…Sir?”

“Everything is alright, me and my wife are just having a small disagreement.”

“Mr. Barnes, are you—”

“She’s not going to do anything to me Paul but I can’t guarantee the same thing for you,” Bucky said. “Leave, close the door behind you.”   

Hannah and Paul lowered their guns, exchanging glances.

“Leave!” you snapped and they both rushed out of the door, closing it behind them in a hurry. Bucky gave you a smirk and opened his arms as if inviting you.

“It was a business meeting, princess.”

“In the middle of the night?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, both of you circling each other. “By the water? Are all your meetings that romantic?”

“We had to go check the shipment’s security because I don’t want to raise any alarms when Ian’s shipment gets busted—”

“Do you seriously think I’m that much of a gullible idiot?”

“Nah, I think you’re just jealous. It’s adorable, really.”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” you exclaimed as you lunged at him again, this time wrapping your legs around his neck to slam him to the ground even if he managed to knock the blade off your hand in the meantime. As soon as you two hit the ground, he caught your leg and flipped you two over, his hand shooting up to grab you by the neck, not putting any pressure but still strong.

Oh—

Oh fuck, this wasn’t supposed to make your heartbeat faster.

The only sound in the room was both of you breathing hard while you glared at each other for a moment, desire roaring through your veins, making your head spin.

Then his lips crashed into yours.

All your senses were too full of him for you to even think it wasn’t the best idea and to be completely honest, you couldn’t give two fucks whether it was a good idea or not, especially not when he was kissing you like this. You had no idea when you two had started ripping each other’s clothes but it was only when you felt his fingertips brush your bare waist, awakening fire underneath your skin did you realize you were only in your bra. You pulled at his crisp button up shirt until the buttons scattered around the room before you impatiently pushed it down his arms and bit at his lip, making him hiss for a moment to pull back to look down at you.

“Behave,” he warned you, smirking slightly and you tilted your head, arching a brow.

“You first.”  

He let out a chuckle, then winked at you and leaned down to kiss you again.

Chapter 28

[muldermuse]

Haunted House (exboyfriend!Billy Butcher x reader)

booooOooooooo!! this is angst. im always down to talk about exboyfriend!butcher so send me asks <3

warnings: angst, smut, infidelity mentioned, unhappy relationship, butcher is a meanie. thank you @butchersdarkbird for the help ❤️ dividers by @saradika-graphics

There’s a ghost in his quiet house.

He used to like it like this; this was his preference. A fact that is so confusing and disconcerting to him now. He always preferred peace and a space that just belonged to him. His home was his and his alone. He swore after losing Becca, he would never allow himself to go through another heartbreak.

Then, of course, he met you.

He wasn’t ready for a relationship but he couldn’t not have you. He’s greedy to his bones, his mind tells him that his gluttony killed Becca- he couldn’t bear to share her with her own child. So with you, he rushed into a relationship when he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to open his heart. His chest ached when you readily opened yours to him.

You were an abundance of love, an overflowing fountain of adoration for him and him alone. You looked at him as if he hung the moon and in your mind; he did that and more. You told him you loved him quickly and he fucked you so hard that it was all you could whine as his cock plunged deep in you.

“Tell me you love me again darlin’, please, i need to hear it”. He cums as you scream out that you love him. He rests his damp head on your heaving chest- he has to hear your heartbeat so he knows that you’re real. Not his mind playing another cruel joke.

You made him feel alive. After Becca, it was just pills, violence and drink. Now it’s you. It’s homecooked meals, sloppy blowjobs on the couch and being held tight in his sleep. He didn’t need to be beaten just to feel blood running through his veins anymore. Seeing your smile did it just fine.

You move in, slowly but surely. For every twenty times you tell him you love him, he tells you once. He knows he’s let you in too far and he’s terrified. He’s going to hurt you- just like he hurt Becca. Seeing your pink towels litter his floor and your coffee cups sitting dirty in the sink starts to make his heart hurt.

Billy Butcher doesn’t deserve good things and you are the best thing of all.

The way he pushes you from him is cruel. The sight of tears filling your eyes as he distances himself from you confirms that he’s a cruel man. He could say he learned it from his father but he’s unsure if that would make it better or worse.

He comes home late and drunk when he knows you planned to cook for him. You’re fast asleep in his sheets as he eats his favourite meal cold. He wakes before you do in the morning, replies to your texts coolly and heads back to the bar after work. He reacquaints himself with fellow patrons he swore he would never converse with again. The barmaid he slept with whilst with Becca has the same glint in her eye; a siren calling his ship astray. She has no idea he’s already crashed it and his body is floating under the surface.

The arguments are fierce, blazing. He fucks you after as an apology. After the third time that week, it tells you he isn’t serious. He’s withdrawn and it hurts you so badly that you feel physical pain every moment you’re together. You hear him stumble in one night, drunkenly sliding into bed with you and whispering a promise that he’s going to change. Drunken pleas to the back of your head that he needs time but he loves you so he has to do it.

Little does he know that the removal van parked outside on the street is yours.

Your friends offered to help you pack up your stuff but it felt to embarrassing to let anyone else into your shared space. They’d warned you about him when you first started dating.

“Are you sure he’s over his ex?”

“Isn’t that the guy who blew you off five times before the first date?”

“Do you not think this is going a bit too quick?”

So you pack your trinkets alone. Letting the tears fall with no warm faces to console you. Part of you wishes you were angrier, filled with enough rage that you smash his belongings, rip his clothes and write how much you hate him on his white walls. You want to leave a mark, a sign to Billy that you once shared this space happily.

You realise it would hurt him more to just go quietly.

Billy knows anger, is well acquainted burning rage and pain. He hasn’t known peace in a long time. You used to think he did with you but now you’re not convinced.

Once the van is packed and you’ve done your final check around the rooms, you get ready to leave. You take the Lego keyring he always took the piss out of off his spare key and post it through his letterbox. You allow yourself to cry, to grieve the life that you lived with him as you drive to your friends.

In the first few hours of being at her home (yours as well for the time being) you await your romcom moment. The moment where Billy walks through the door with flowers and your spare key; begging for you to come home. You allow your mind to float away to him grovelling, tears in his eyes because he can’t express to you how much he loves you but he’ll do anything to prove it. You drift off without realising and wake up in the morning.

No calls, no texts, no contact from Billy Butcher.

There’s a ghost in his house that has been taunting him for months.

He’s never understood why people go out for Halloween so early. Frenchie and Hughie call him a killjoy, they tell him he doesn’t understand the ‘fun’ of it. He doesn’t want to understand. He never minded the festivities when he was with you. He rolled his eyes when you came back from the store with garish Halloween candy but would delight in sharing them with you on the sofa. He’d watch every horror movie you put on; insisting that you could only watch horror in October. His favourite was when you’d dress up, taunting him in lingerie and riding him on the sofa until he came deep inside you.

The bar is busier than usual. He’s throwing back his whiskeys like he has no where to be and, really, he doesn’t. The only thing calling him is an empty bed. He overhears the guy next to him defending his costume.

He slurs, “no you gotta see my girlfriend for it to make sense…I’m-hic-mustard and she’s ketchup. It doesn’t work if we’re not both here…wait I’ll get her”

The guy shouts your name.

It feels like someone has poured ice cold water over him. Butcher knows he shouldn’t turn to look at you, he should finish his drink, tip his bartender and leave.

You look great, healthier than when he’d last seen you. Your smile is as welcoming as ever and your eyes glisten when you look up at him- not him, your boyfriend. The much younger looking man currently sliding his hand down your hip to your ass. You look so fucking happy. Butcher can’t remember the last time you looked like that.

He had drained it from you.

Your boyfriend mumbles something about the bathroom, leaving you stood alone at the bar- Butcher feels brave enough to tap your shoulder. Your delighted expression drops when you see him.

“S’a good costume darlin’” he can’t hide the sadness in his voice. When he came home and you’d left, he decided to bury it down. He told the rest of the boys that you were on a break, of course it had been months and he lashed out whenever someone spoke your name. That told them all they needed to know.

You don’t respond, he can’t tell if the expression on your face is shock, anger or despair.

“S’a good couples costume…your fella looks good an’ all, closer to your age” the age difference was always a point of contention for others but you both liked it. You thought an older man would know how to treat you properly. Butcher tips the rest of his whiskey down his throat, trying to hide the burn of the amber liquid as it slides down.

He spots your boyfriend coming back and you still haven’t said anything. You’re just staring at him. He panics as it occurs to him that this might be the last thing he says to you.

“I was a fuckin’ cunt to ya darlin’, i should h-“ your pulled away before he can finish. You turn back to face him as you’re dragged through the bustling crowd by your boyfriend. He sees tears fill your eyes, again. Just like they did when he was cold to you and just like when he told you he didn’t love you in a drunken rage.

He hates that he knows that devastated expression well. Hates even more that he always seems to cause it.

The words have died on his tongue.

He didn’t even get to say sorry.

The ghost has been in the house ever since that night.

He wakes in a cold sweat hearing your giggle ripple through the corridor. He smells your perfume when he enters the bathroom. He’s finding more of your belongings than ever before. Socks, trinkets and hair ties scattered across the floor.

He tried communicating with you. He text you, called you and even turned up at your workplace- just to be told to leave by your best friend. “I think you’ve done enough damage already, don’t you?”.

He knows he has, he doesn’t need to be reminded.

He ends up talking aloud to your presence lingering in the house. He apologises in the dead of night, he compliments your perfume once he gets out of the shower and he puts your belongings in a bag. Promising that he’ll deliver them to you one day, along with the long awaited face to face apology.

It’s October 31st when the ghost finally communicates.

you [received: 9:19pm]: that guy was never my boyfriend. i think you hurt me too much for that.

you [received: 9:19pm]: im drunk. it hurts to think about you. please don’t text me again. dont turn up at my work. dont call.

you [received 9:20pm]: im blocking you. i never want to hear from you again. i fucking hate you.

Butcher panics, he calls you frantically but nothing goes through; no texts are sending. He drinks himself to sleep. He’s not sure if he’s still drunk when he wakes up but your side of the bed is warm. Your hair is on the pillow, your perfume is in the air and he hears your voice in the corridor. He smiles as he touches the warmth you’ve left. He falls back asleep with a smile.

It was a dream.

Of course it fucking was.

The bed is cold and the only smell is the spilled whiskey on his carpet. The room has never looked as bare. He tries your phone one final time. Just in case, he speaks aloud to you.

There’s no answer.

[hughiecampbelle]

Being Becca and Butchers Child Would Include: Pt. 1

Requested: Heyyyy can I request some headcanons about being Billy Butcher child (like his and Beccas' only child they had together before Homelander r@ped her) and how some other people would react to it?? (*≧ω≦) - anon

A/N: My love!!! I did want to re-watch the show before I started writing so I'm very sorry about the wait! This was so fun to write! I really hope you like it!!! I ran out of room, so there will definitely be a part two!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Preference Reaction / Headcanon Pt. 2

Ok idk really know the timeline of how long they were together before the Homelander incident, but I'm making reader 10+ years old at the time of Becca going missing so that they're old enough to take part in Butcher's life afterwards

You were 10+ when your mother went missing

Before that, your life was average. Your parents couldn't get enough of one another, even if your father had some self-destructive tendencies, your mother could always reel him back in

Your father was heartbroken when you started talking and was more American than he'd hoped, but you still picked up on his slang

Your mother was attentive and loving, the both of them were, though your father always struggled with expressing it

Instead he would physically show it by hanging out with you, bringing you to the park and museums and just being there unlike his own father

You're closer with your mothers side of the family, especially your Aunt Rachel, but you have special connection with your fathers aunt, Great Aunt Judy

For the most part, it's the three of you and it's perfect

When you're old enough, you beg your parents for a dog

Becca isn't too sure, but after months of asking and getting your father on board, she agrees

That's when your family of three turns into four - your father names him Terror and you love him more than anything

Your parents are adamant your education is beyond important

Your mother primarily helps with homework since your father got too confused with the way you were taught math and had to throw everything in his wallet into the swear jar

They tuck you in every night and, when you were younger, would read you bedtime stories

Becca's new job at Vought was a great thing for your family

You were all so excited and proud of her - especially your father

You tagged along that night to the party, showing you were old enough to behave, proving you weren't a kid anymore

You even got your picture taken with Homelander

Not long after, your mother went missing

Your father changed

Things that were important weren't anymore

He let his hair grow, staying out at all hours, ordering Terror to look after you

In a way, you'd lost both parents that day

After Butcher talks to Mallory, he loses every part of his old self

Your grades tank and the school threatens to hold you back

You're angry and hurt and your life changed overnight. You don't care about homework, you don't care about grades, or friends, or petty school drama - you want your mother back

You start acting out, too. Getting into fights, skipping school, etc.

You and your dad start to fight, too. You fend for yourself most nights, tucking yourself in, calling and texting him without an answer. When he's not working for Mallory or doing his own investigating, he's drinking and getting into bar fights

Realizing he can't do this alone, that he can't raise you like this, that he's hurting you as much as he's hurting himself, he sends you off to your Aunt Rachel

She provides what she can, but you're still angry, cagey, spiky

After your father sends you a way, you kind of give up on whatever future you had planned. Nothing mattered anymore. Your mother was gone and now your father was slipping, too

You and Rachel fight and bicker and though she tries to call your father for help, he rarely picks up

Every few weeks he'll show up and order you around, reminding you you were such a good kid and that your mother wouldn't want you acting like this, but you call him a hypocrite

When things are rocky between you and your Aunt, you live with your great Aunt Judy

At least Terror is there, too

She's kind of a no-nonsense-woman. She doesn't put up with any of your attitude

It sets you straight for a while, she offers the mothering you were lacking, but you're still hurting. Your grades and attendance are just okay, but it's better than before

The less you see your father, the more obvious it becomes that he's not coming back

As you get older, you begin sneaking out, partying, drinking and doing drugs

There are days you spend at friends houses and entire weekends she doesn't see or hear from you

You leave messages on your fathers phone, yelling and screaming and begging and crying, wondering why the hell he abandoned you

He can tell by the slur of your words you're drunk or high or both

You try to get in relationships, but, like your family, you're afraid they'll decide to leave you too, and so you push them away before then

Rachel probably thought to get you into therapy, but Judy didn't believe in that kind of thing, so you never went, not that you wouldn't have refused to go at any age

You graduate high school, but just barely, and though Rachel and Judy are there to watch you walk across the stage, you can't help but feel what's missing

In the years between, you accept your mothers death. The case has grown cold and despite what your father says, you have little faith she's ever coming back

You still celebrate her birthday with her favorite flavor cake and you talk about her often. You brought all the pictures of her you could find, even the one of the three of you together with Homelander

Older now, and directionless, you leave Judy and seek out your father

You track him down to a hideout under a shop in the middle of the city. It wasn't really that hard to ask around. Everyone remembered the rugged jackass who called them a c-nt

You packed a bag with you, hoping you could stay with him and get some answers

You barge through the shop, yelling for him to come out, calling a fucking coward (and worse)

People you don't know or recognize let you down into the basement, asking who you are, why you're looking for Butcher

When you tell him you're Y/n Butcher they all look at one another - they had no idea you even existed. In all the stories Butcher shared about his life before, never did he bring up a kid

Hughie, Frenchie, M.M., and Kimiko tell you as much as they can without feeling like they're overstepping, introducing themselves as friends of your dad

They have no idea where he is, but if you'd like to wait

The Boys definitely argue in the corner about what to do with you

Hughie, empathetic, says to let you stay until Butcher shows up. You clearly had nowhere else to go and you deserved to know everything

M.M. argued it was better to keep you safe, let you go back to your Aunt, anywhere that wasn't here

Kimiko and Frenchie were conflicted

All of them were wondering why he'd have kept you a secret

You like talking to Hughie the best, he's the first one of them you trust. There's something familiar about him

You grow impatient waiting for him. He still won't pick up and you've asked all around- no one's seen him

You fall back into old habits pretty quickly

You're exactly like your father - stumbling back to the hideout drunk and swearing and falling asleep on the couch reeking of booze

You listen to angry music way too loud

Kimiko likes it, she likes you, too

When your father magically appears in a ridiculous outfit, he tells everyone Becca is alive before realizing you're there, too

Instantly, you start cursing him out

M.M. has to hold you back from getting in his face

Butcher asks what the fuck you're doing here while everyone else, as discreetly as possible, asks when he was gonna tell them about you

You and your father reconnect after years, arguing and lashing out at one another. He orders you back to Judy, but you're a legal adult now

You want to know where he's been, why he's just showing up now, why Vought is looking for him and why he's so adamant your mother is alive

[18catsreading]

Koda: I am better than horse. I will carry you.

Katja: wmWhat. Did. You. Fucking. Say?

Koda: I am Better than Horse.

Rekha: Katja squares up.

Aabria/Antiope: I immediately grab Katja like 'nope, nope!'

Katja: let me take him don't you hold me back!

Antiope: Bear back up, back up! You don't want me to let her go.

Koda: okay.

Becca/Penny: I hug the bear. Just don't say, we know it's true, don't say it again.

Katja: what?!

Koda: oh yeah, what, what, what?

Antiope: Girl you wanna get let go?

Katja: Am I gonna fight a bear?

Antiope: go fucking get him! Aabria/Antiope: I let go and push her forward. Kill this bear!

Izzy/Ostentatia: can I cast enhance ability and give her beat shit?

Antiope: smoke this bear, Katja!

Brennan: I'm gonna pull up bear --

Becca/Penny: no, not Koda, please, I'll give my life for Koda!

Sam: Koda, I believe in you. And I give Koda bardic inspiration.

Katja: what! Against me?!

*overlapping chatter*

Brennan: okay, so you have enhanced ability, I'm gonna need an athletics check with advantage from you.

Sephie/Sam: my first time bardic inspiration!

Brennan: what did you roll?

Rekha/Katja: I rolled an 18, which plus my athletics is a 27.

Aabria: let's go

Becca/Penny: come on Koda

Brennan: I'm gonna roll.

Sephie/Sam: remember that bardic inspiration!

Brennan: yes, bardic inspiration.

*overlapping chatter*

Rekha/Katja: Absolutely psychotic

Aabria/Antiope: I want Hunter's Sense on this bear. What is his weakness?

Rekha/Katja: fuck yes

Antiope: I'm whispering in your ear like, 'go for his nuts.'

Becca/Penny: I get an acrobatics check as I spin the bear on my feet?

Rekha/Katja: this is unreal you created, and then brought back this bear.

Penny: Koda is a circus trained bear and I have acrobatics.

Brennan: so I'm gonna roll. Here's, here's Koda's athletics check.

*math happens* Katja: 27, Koda: 24

Erika/Yelle: before this resolves --

Katja: and it will never resolve!

Erika/Yelle: everyone hears a voice in the back of their heads that says: 'Everybody knock it off and grow the fuck up.'

Rekha: gasps

Penny: yeah, Koda

Yelle: you too Koda

Sam: especially Koda

Brennan: Katja you've got --

Ostentatia: who just fucking cursed at me?

Brennan: so you all -- so Danielle just communicated telepathically. You gently release Koda from the arm bar that you have Koda in.

Rekha/Katja: yea it was an arm bar and I was about to grab him like *gestures with a clenched fist* like this is his shirt and put him up against the --

Izzy: shirt?

Rekha/Katja: yea, but this is fur, against the thing. And go like a 'why I oughta!'

Becca/Penny: no Koda wears a tiny T-shirt, that's right.

Rekha: *something I can't catch* really small.

Izzy: is it Paddington?

*overlapping chatter and laughing*

Brennan: a talking Kodiak Bear with an enormous rain jacket and hat. Less cute that size. Cool. So, so Katja you were clearly about to tie this bear in a knot.

Aabria/Antiope: kick this bear's ass.

Brennan: and Danielle grabs everyone's attention. Zelda looks at Yelle and goes [as Zelda]: cool. Yeah, we need to head to the Baronies. We should go.

Katja: yeah, yeah. Are you cool, Koda? Are you fucking cool?

Koda: if you are cool, I am cool. We have no problem. Maybe next time we go there's no sucker punches, and we sort of, you know?

Yelle: okay, you know what. This is what we call, in the industry, bear baiting. And you're not going to fall for it.

Izzy: what industry?

Aabria/Antiope: we're getting baited by a bear that's fucked.

Katja: I am not falling for this

Penny: the nature industry

Katja: I am strong, I am strong, and you are weak

*overlapping chatter*

Brennan: uh, amazing. So it kicks off a little bit again, and you guys head off from here. Katja and Koda, the tension is palpable.

Rekha/Katja: and we're sitting next to each other!

Penny: I hope on Koda's back

Izzy: they're gonna fuck!

Penny: I'm whispering to Koda what a good boy he is, and how he's better than a horse.

Katja: I'm whispering to cinnamon "you know there's nothing on earth that's better than a horse, you know that right?

Cinnamon: I didn't let that bear get to me. I didn't let that bear get to me.

Brennan: so you all move along

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 6)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: making out, mommy kink, jealous Agatha

Taglist:@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas @r-3-becca @harknessshi

Before you can open your mouth to respond, she yanks you back into the bathroom you had just come out of. You rip your hand out of her grasp. 

“What – what are you doing here?” You ask, mouth agape. How had she known where you were? Why is she so mad?

She advances on you until your back hits the wall. Fury is radiating from her and you’re more than a little frightened (and kind of turned on). 

“You see me kissing your dad, so what?” She sneers scathingly. “You run and find the first girl you can for a lousy fuck in a bathroom?” 

She keeps coming closer so you put your hand on her shoulder to stop her. “What are you talking about?” You shout exasperatedly. “We didn’t ‘fuck in the bathroom,’ I was upset and she was comforting me!”

“You kissed her,” Agatha says, voice strangely calm. 

“And you kissed my dad! Also, are you fucking stalking me?”

“I followed you to make sure you didn’t do anything rash, because news flash, your father and I are married! I know you don’t want to hear it, darling, but not everything is about you.” 

You grit your teeth. “I know that. But do you? Because every time I even get close to a girl, you basically call me a slut.” 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t acting like one,” she snarls. You fist your hand into the shirt she’s wearing, digging your nails in through the fabric. 

“You know, it’s pretty rich that you’re calling me dramatic for earlier when you’re literally going crazy over the thought of me with someone else.” The air in the room seems to change. It’s the closest either of you have gotten to addressing this thing between you. 

You see Agatha falter for a split second. “That’s not what I’m doing,” she growls. 

“Oh, yeah?” You challenge. “Then what is this? Cause to me, it looks like you’re jealous.” 

The vein in her forehead throbs as she leans in. “You know what this looks like to me? Like a spoiled little girl didn’t get the kind of attention she wanted for one second so she decided to throw a temper tantrum. And now she needs to be taught a lesson.”  

“Fuck off, Agatha.” You let go of her shirt and raise your hands to shove her back but she easily catches them and pins them above your head. 

You inhale sharply, a noise sounding an awful lot like a moan coming out of your mouth. She smirks wickedly, her eyebrow raising. 

“What a naughty girl,” Agatha tuts and embarrassment burns your face. 

“Let go of me,” you say, struggling to get out of her grasp but she holds you tighter. 

“Is this what she did to you when you took her to the bathroom?” 

She’s bringing up Rio again. She clearly has some serious jealousy issues and you wish you didn’t find it so hot, however frustrating it is. “I didn’t have sex with her, for fuck’s sake! I kissed her, yeah, but I was thinking about you the whole time.” The admission stuns you both and her grip around your wrist slackens. But you don’t pull away. You need to see how she’ll react. 

Her eyes drop down your lips, then back up. She leans in closer and you forget how to breathe when she ghosts her lips over your mouth and you find yourself instinctively drawing in an attempt to actually kiss her. 

But she steps away before you can, dropping your hands and letting go. 

“What?” You sigh defeatedly. You’re already tired of this game she keeps playing, the one where she strings you along and makes you think she likes you and then cuts you off. She doesn’t get to be jealous and possessive and then back away after almost kissing you. 

“I’m married to your father,” Agatha says. “I’m your step-mother. I’m over twice your age. We can’t do this.” 

“I don’t care!” You insist, but she shakes her head. Your insides harden and you get a rush of boldness. “Okay, fine. Here we go. I want you, Agatha. I don’t care who you’re married to, or how old you are. Fuck, I like how old you are!” 

She scoffs in disbelief, eyes darting up to meet yours and then to the floor again. 

“So you can either do something about that, or you can let me go back out there and have fun with my friend.” You give her the ultimatum, praying that you didn’t just ruin everything.

For a minute, you think Agatha will change her mind. But then she spins on her heel and walks out of the bathroom. You feel a rush of emotion flood over you, but you shove it down. You got your answer. It’s better you know now. 

“Hey, where have you been?” Rio asks when you finally rejoin her on the dance floor. 

“Ran into someone I knew,” you say evasively. “You wanna get out of here?” She nods eagerly. You give the bar one last look over just to see if there’s any sign of Agatha. 

There isn’t. 

You bite back the disappointment rising in your chest and pull Rio out the door by the hand. 

You’re walking to your car when you see a shadow in the alleyway by the parking lot. You squint your eyes and can make out the trace of a woman. 

Is it her?

Stopping abruptly, you turn to Rio and drag her in for a long kiss, pushing her against your car. She groans into your mouth. It grows heated and you’re almost too distracted to notice your phone buzzing in your purse. 

You break away, both of you gasping for air. Rio runs a finger over her lip smugly and you pull out your phone. 

You win. Drop her off and come over to my house. Do NOT touch her. It’s from the unknown number you’ve memorized. A number you could recite in your sleep. A hot thrill runs through you. 

You smirk to yourself and turn to glance back at the figure in the alley, still cloaked in darkness. Of course Agatha would wait to watch, not being able to give up control even after she tried to. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever driven so fast in your hurry to get Rio home so you can go be with Agatha. But once you’re parked in Rio’s driveway, there’s an awkward pause. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Rio finally asks. You feel bad that you’ve led on her, made her a pawn in this game between you and your step-mom. 

“I should probably go. School tomorrow, you know. There’s still some things I need to finish,” you say apologetically. She nods like she understands and then she gets out of the car and enters her house without looking back. A pang of guilt hits you hard but you shake it off. 

I’ll be there in 20 you text Agatha. 

I’ll be waiting. Her reply comes almost immediately and your breath catches in your throat. 

Anticipation builds in your stomach the entire drive to your dad’s house. You’re not sure what will happen, or really what can happen if your dad is home. You have a feeling that if you have sex, Agatha will want to hear you make noise. 

You arrive in front of the house, all the windows dark. You shift nervously. Maybe she just made you drive all the way over here, knowing you wouldn’t do anything with Rio if she told you not to, and is hanging you out to dry. 

You check your phone. It’s been about twenty minutes, so Agatha should know you’ll be getting there any minute now. You wonder if you should ring the doorbell, make Agatha come down and explain or risk waking your dad. 

And then you see it. 

The gate to the backyard is unlocked and slightly pushed open. An invitation. 

You quietly shut your car door and creep up the driveway, cringing at the sound your car makes when you lock it. The gate squeaks. Your shoes echo on the patio concrete. It’s like you’re asking to get caught. 

When you finally turn around the house and come into view of the pool, your mouth falls open. 

Agatha is floating in the pool, an inviting smile beckoning you to join her. But that’s not what gives you pause. 

You can see in the light of the moon that she’s naked underneath the water. 

Your mouth runs dry as you strip off your dress as quickly as you can and your underwear follows in suit. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so turned on in your life and you can see her eyes darken at the sight of you. You walk quickly over to the pool steps and wade over to her, stopping when you’re right in front of her. 

The two of you stand like that for what feels like forever, simply soaking in each other’s bare skin. No words are spoken, risking nothing that might break this spell. 

And then Agatha reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, asking for permission with her eyes. 

You give it to her by entangling a hand in her hair and dragging her into a bruising kiss. There’s no teasing, no featherlight kisses – you both need this too much – and her tongue is in your open mouth before either of you knows it. You feel her moan into you and your arms circle around her naked back to pull her in even closer. You whimper at the feeling of her breasts against yours and you’re easily able to wrap both your legs around her waist, practically weightless in the pool.

Her fingertips dig into your ass and you can’t help but roll your hips against her lower stomach at the sting. 

“I can feel how wet you are even in the water,” Agatha chuckles darkly, walking with you until your back hits the edge of the pool, pulling another groan out of you. 

Her lips are back on yours, kissing you so fervently and so dominantly that it makes your head spin. You feel like you’re drunk. You’re literally vibrating with need for her. 

Her hot mouth trails down the side of your neck and then bites harshly. You whine, trying to get some stimulation on your clit by squirming against her stomach. Agatha tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and sinks them into it, eyes flashing with the sound you make. 

“Please, Agatha,” you beg. Her hands start stroking up and down your thighs, the dull ache between your legs now a roaring fire, still holding you in place against the pool wall. 

There’s a glimmer of mischievousness on her face. “Oh, baby, I know you can do better than that.” 

You’re panting, lips swollen, and grinding on her stomach. You’re not sure how much more she wants. “Please, Agatha, I need you, I want you, please fuck me, mom-” You clamp a hand over your mouth before you accidentally embarrass yourself beyond repair and she smirks like it’s the most delicious thing she’s ever heard. 

She leans in and whispers against your ear, “Say it. Who do you belong to?” Her right hand slowly moves up your thigh until she’s hovering her fingers right over your pussy. 

Your breath stutters, feeling her right where you want her. “You, mommy,” you whisper, barely audible. 

"That's right." She slides her hand through your folds, pressing hard on your clit which elicits a moan from you, and then she shoves you off her, stepping away like she had done in the bathroom at the bar. 

“What the fuck?” You ask, throbbing with need, never more aware of the emptiness inside you than right now.

“You didn’t think I was going to reward you after that little stunt you pulled in the parking lot, did you?”

“Agatha, I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you mad, please don’t, I need you so badly.” Your pleas fall from your mouth and she delights in them.

The smirk on her lips is pure evil. “I know, sweetheart. But mommy needs to make sure you learn your lesson. And trust me, when I do finally fuck you, it won’t be in a pool.” She climbs out of the water, grabbing the towel she set on the side and dries off. You watch her in a stupor, not believing that she’s going to leave you like this, lips still burning from her kisses. She throws the wet towel back on the ground for you to use and then walks naked to the sliding glass door, tossing you one last look. “And don’t even think about touching yourself.” 

She goes inside and you are alone once again.