alex @im-actually-not-even-here - Tumblr Blog

im-actually-not-even-here

agnes-strap

Jul 7

theballadofharkness

The Ring

Yes Detective Masterlist

Pairing: ButchDetective!Agatha x female!reader

Summary: Agatha wakes up to find you’ve left your engagement ring at home, but why?

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: explicit smut

A/N: hi loves, apologies for the absence x I’m trying my best but I wrote this little hurt comfort xx hope you enjoy 💜

It’s early in the morning. The sun is only just starting to rise, casting a sleepy orange glow across the kitchen floorboards. The house is quiet, the kind of soft quiet that comes when you’ve already left for work. There are no other sounds apart from the ticking wall clock and the faint hum of the fridge.

Agatha pads into the kitchen barefoot, her hair mussed from sleep, yawning into the sleeve of her shirt. She’s wearing your favourite one, the one that she bought at a thrift store because it said ‘Bohner’ like that could ever actually a real family name and now smells like her shampoo.

She’s expecting to find your little post-it notes on the counter. A sweet message. A doodle of Señor Scratchy. Some stupid pun that makes her snort into her coffee.

But instead…

She sees your ring sitting in the little dish by the sink.

The engagement ring she gave you three weeks ago.

The one you never take off.

Her first thought is no, it must’ve slipped off. Maybe you were washing your hands, or you took it off while getting ready and forgot to put it back. But even that doesn’t make sense because she knows you. She knows how tight you grip that ring like a lifeline. How you only take it off when you’re in surgery, and even then you hate it.

She steps forward slowly and picks it up between her thumb and forefinger. Somehow it feels heavier than usual.

“Mm, what’re you doin’ baby huh?” She murmurs to herself, voice rough from sleep.

She rubs the inside with her thumb, feeling for the engraving she’d paid extra for.

My love, forever.

And suddenly there’s this heavy, tight ache in her chest. Her brows knit together. Because why would you leave it?

She stares at it for a moment longer then sets it gently on the counter where you would usually leave a note. Except today, there isn’t a note.

No ‘have a good day <3,’ no ‘left you banana bread,’ no ‘love you.’

Just silence. And a ring.

She exhales through her nose, her chest tight and her mind unsettled. Her girl would never take this off. So what the fuck’s going on?

She stares at the ring again for a long moment. Then turns away sharply, gritting her teeth as she starts to make her morning coffee just to do something with her hands.

But she can’t stop thinking.

You never take it off. Not even in the bath. Not when you sleep. You cried when she gave it to you, wrapped your legs around her waist and whispered ‘thank you thank you thank you’ like it was the only thing you’d ever wanted.

So why the fuck is it sitting on the counter?

She tells herself not to be stupid. You’re not cheating. You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You’re obsessed with her. You’re with her every free moment you’ve got, curled up in her lap, tracing lazy circles on her chest, making those soft little noises when she kisses behind your ear. You’re always touching her, always needing her, always whispering ‘mine’ against her skin when you think she’s not listening.

There’s no way.

Except…

Her arms cross tighter over her chest. She’s gripping her mug too hard.

Then why’d you take it off? And why no note? Why no ‘love you baby’ post-it on the fridge written in pink pen like every other day?

Her jaw clenches.

She trusts you. She loves you.

But love doesn’t stop that horrible little whisper in the back of her head, the one planted by every woman who ever looked at her like she was too much. The one that told her she was too old, too masculine, too closed off, too hard to love.

She’s pacing now, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

Maybe she said something wrong. Maybe she was too distant this week. She’s had night shifts, paperwork, the whole overtime conversation you had a couple of days ago…

Fuck.

She runs a hand through her hair, heart pounding now. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t.

But the ring is still sitting there.

And the clock is ticking, with every minute you’re not home feeling like a fresh crack in her ribs.

You don’t expect Agatha to be standing in the kitchen when you get home. Especially not with the lights dimmed low and with your engagement ring pinched between two fingers like evidence in a case she’s working on.

But there she is, standing inside the kitchen, feet planted to the ground, arms crossed tight over her chest.

Her eyes lift when the door clicks shut behind you.

And they are dark.

They aren’t teasing or warm. She isn’t looking at you with her usual fond but firm ‘c’mere, babygirl’ look.

This is something else.

You blink. Caught off guard. Your tote bag halfway down your arm.

“Agatha?”

She doesn’t speak at first. Instead she holds the ring up between her forefinger and thumb, its shine duller in the low kitchen light. The space feels immediately heavy between you.

You freeze.

Fuck.

“I-I forgot,” you say quickly, before she can say anything. “I just… it was by the sink, I guess I…”

“You never forget it.” Her voice is rough, her tone low and controlled. “You sleep in it. You shower in it. You make me put it on you during sex, like a fuckin’ ceremony.”

You wince. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…”

“I’ve been trying not to spiral,” she says, flatly. “Trying not to think the worst.”

Your heart drops. Oh god. She can’t possibly think…

“Baby,” you whisper, stepping forward. “It’s not what you think…”

“You think I haven’t seen this happen before?” she cuts in harshly.

Her voice is frayed at the edges now, her anger covering something deeper, something so much worse. Insecurity.

“The young girl realizes what she signed up for. That she’s got this old butch ball and chain instead of some Pinterest wedding dream, and suddenly the ring’s a little too tight.”

“Agatha,” you breathe. “No, stop please…”

Her mouth presses into a tight line.

But you see it now.

The hurt.

It’s in the way she won’t meet your eyes. The way her fingers are clenched white around the little wedding band. The way she’s holding herself like she’s bracing for a car crash.

And suddenly you feel sick.

This is your fault.

You did this.

“No, fuck… I just…” you drop your bag and walk closer. “I didn’t wear it today because… because I met up with my mom.”

That gets her attention.

Her brows lift. “Your mom?”

You nod, quickly. Tears pricking.

“She doesn’t… she doesn’t know about us,” you admit, voice small. “She doesn’t even know I’m into women. Or that I’m engaged. Or that I live with you. I just…” you shake your head, frustrated. “She’s never approved of anything I’ve done. Any decision I’ve made. She ruined my graduation, she ruined my first apartment, she ruins everything… and I just… I didn’t want her to ruin this too. So I took it off.”

Agatha blinks in shock as she tries to process the information she has just been given.

You sniffle, clutching your arms around yourself as if to hold you together.

“I just didn’t want her to look at the ring and ask questions and make that condescending face like she always does and make me feel like shit for being happy…”

“Hey.” Her voice is softer now. It’s still low but no longer sharp. “Hey, baby.”

You finally meet her eyes.

And she looks wrecked. She’s not angry, not even hurt anymore. Just… wrecked.

Her gaze sweeps over you, looking at your damp lashes, your trembling lip, your hunched shoulders. And you see the exact moment her expression breaks.

“Oh, honey…”

And then she’s moving. You’re wrapped in her arms before you can even finish wiping your cheeks. Strong hands pull you close till you feel her warm breath at your temple.

“I thought…” she murmurs, shaking her head. “Jesus, baby. I thought I lost you.”

“I’d never…”

“I know. I know, now. God, look at you.”

You sniffle, nuzzling in.

She kisses your hair, then your forehead, then your cheeks. She cradles your face and tilts it up so you’re looking at her again.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I didn’t wanna seem…”

“Seem what?” she cuts in, gently. “Like a girl trying to protect herself?”

Your lip wobbles.

She smiles that slow, crooked, ‘God I love you’ kind of smile and brushes your hair back behind your ear.

“I get it,” she says. “Do your mom’s a fucking piece of work. And you don’t owe anyone anything baby. Not even her.”

You press yourself closer to her, inhaling the scent of cedar and safety that clings to her clothes.

“I just didn’t want her to ruin this,” you whisper again. “I love you so much, Agatha. I love our life together. I’m not ashamed of you or of this… I’m just scared.”

She presses a kiss to your temple.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she murmurs. “But next time talk to me, yeah? I don’t need to be in your mom’s good graces. I just need to know what’s going on with you, okay? So next time, you come to me. You don’t keep this shit locked up on your own. Team Harkness?”

“Team Harkness.” You agree, giggling softly and a little teary still.

She grins.

“And if you ever leave this ring behind again,” she growls, nudging it into your palm, “I’m gonna bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you in nothing but that ring, you got that honey?”

Your breath catches.

She cocks her head, her confident smirk returning to her face. “I mean it. I’ll leave ring prints on your ass.”

You’re giggling now, clinging to her shirt like a lifeline.

“That’s my beautiful girl,” Agatha murmurs again, brushing her knuckles under your eye to catch the last tear.

You smile, sniffling as her fingers curl beneath your chin. And when she kisses you, slow and deep and oh so devoted you feel it in every inch of your body.

“Remember that I’m not just your fiancée, baby. I’m your home. You hear me?”

“I hear you…” you melt into her, nodding again.

She presses a kiss to your nose. Her voice lowers as she reminds you one last time. “And don’t you ever leave this ring behind again.”

You look down at it in your palm, your ring. The one she slipped on your finger with shaking hands the night you said yes.

Your fingers close around it. You swallow.

“I’m so sorry… I wasn’t trying to hide you,” you whisper. “I just… I didn’t want her to ruin this. She ruins everything, Agatha…” you can’t help but repeat, making sure Agatha truly knows where you’re coming from.

“Well then let her try,” she growls, protective fire igniting behind her eyes. “Let her come over here and see the life we’ve built. Let her look me in the eye while I tell her how fucking loved you are.”

Your knees wobble. She’s got both hands on your waist now, pulling you in tight, your chest against hers.

“I want everyone to know you’re mine,” she murmurs against your mouth. “I want that ring to shine. I want your hand in mine everywhere we go. You don’t need to make yourself small for anyone, sweetheart. Especially not for someone who doesn’t know what a fucking miracle you are.”

Now you’re crying again but this time for a different reason. You bury yourself in her shirt, wrapping your arms around her middle.

“Agatha…”

“I’ve got you,” she breathes, kissing the crown of your head. “Always, baby. Always.”

You stay there a long time, swaying together in the dim kitchen, your arms clutched around her like an anchor, your ring now back on your finger, where it belongs.

“You’re mine, honey. Forever. I don’t care who I have to fight. I’ll take on the whole damn world for you.” She strokes your spine, murmuring in your ear.

“I love you.” You tilt your head up, teary eyed and adoring.

Her expression softens. “Good,” she says, voice deep and rough. “Then let me show you.”

And when she picks you up with her strong arms around your thighs, your soft little gasp against her jaw tells her that you know exactly what she means.

The bedroom’s warm, the only light is the soft amber spill from the bedside lamp and the slow rise and fall of her chest against your back.

You’re nestled in Agatha’s arms, completely surrounded by her thighs bracketing yours, one arm under your neck, the other draped over your waist like she’s holding her most precious thing.

Her breath is slow and even against your hair, your hand resting over hers. And then you reach for your ring. You twist it gently off your finger, holding it between thumb and forefinger, and turn in her arms just enough to press it into her palm.

“Put it back on me properly?” you murmur, soft and shy.

She raises a brow. “Again?”

You nod, biting your lip.

She chuckles, low and warm in her chest. “Will you marry me, baby?”

Your grin spreads so fast you can’t even try to hide it.

“Yes please,” you whisper, breathless.

She takes your left hand and cradles it reverently before she slides the ring back onto your finger, watching the band slip back into its rightful place, snug and shining. You let out a dreamy little sigh like it’s your favorite feeling in the world, because it is. And she knows it.

“God, you love this,” she murmurs, smiling down at you as your eyes flutter. “My pretty little fiancée…”

“I love being yours.” You nod, eyes glossy, lip caught in your teeth.

“You are mine.” Her voice drops an octave, gravel thick and laced with that ache she gets when she’s feeling too much.

She curls her arm tighter around you. Her nose presses to your temple. “I’d put that ring on you every damn day if it meant seeing that smile.”

Your heart flips. You squirm back against her chest just a little, tilting your face up toward hers, cheeks flushed. “I’d like that.”

“Oh, baby…” She presses a kiss to your jaw, to your shoulder. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around hers and allowing yourself to be caged in completely. That’s your favorite place, wrapped up in her, claimed and warm and wanted.

“You’d let me,” you hum.

“In a heartbeat.”

You’re half in her lap now, her arms wrapping you up tighter the more you squirm against her, not to get away, but you’re just so full of love, full of her, this ache, this buzz, this need to be close to her.

Her hand cradles the back of your head, her palm warm, fingers spreading through your hair.

“I love you,” you breathe, pulling back just enough to whisper it against her lips. “I love you so much.”

She stills for a moment, like the words hit her somewhere too deep to move.

Then her arms tighten around you, slow and sure. She nuzzles her nose against your cheek, her lips brushing the edge of your mouth.

“Oh, baby…” Her voice is rough and low. “You say that like I’ll ever stop needing to hear it.”

You whimper softly and cling tighter. You’re in nothing but your panties and the ring she slid back onto your finger; she’s in her old shirt and a pair of sweats she only ever wears when it’s just the two of you. And even dressed like that with no makeup, and hair wild from bed, she looks at you like you’re everything. Like she can’t believe you’re hers.

You tilt your chin, searching for her eyes. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you so much it’s fucking stupid,” she says, voice thick. “I’m nearly fifty, I’m a grumpy, tired cop with a bad back and more regrets than I can count…”

“Stop,” you whisper, pouting.

“…and then there’s you,” she finishes, eyes locked on yours. “This perfect, warm, sweet little thing who looks at me like I hung the damn moon.”

You swallow.

“You did,” you whisper. “For me, you did.”

She groans like it physically hurts how much she wants you. Her hands slip down your back, over the curve of your hips, cradling you close as she kisses your neck, your jaw, your cheekbone, whispering between kisses.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I hope not.”

“Oh, I’ll die happy,” she breathes. “If it’s in this bed, with you in my arms, saying you love me like that?”

You giggle. Her nose scrapes your cheek. Your ring glints in the low light.

“You love it when I get needy,” you whisper.

She hums. “I love you.”

Then, firmer, breath warm on your throat, “and I’ll love you forever.”

You curl tighter into her chest, letting her hold you, letting her kiss you again, slow and deep and steady, like she’s promising everything she’ll ever give you, one kiss at a time.

She’s got you exactly how she wants you, bare legged and soft, curled up in her lap with her cock hot and heavy between your thighs, resting against the cotton of your soaked panties.

Her lips drag over the side of your throat, slow and warm and knowing.

“Tell me you love me, baby.”

You let out a tiny gasp. You try to nod, but she tuts gently, nose brushing your jaw as her hand presses more firmly between your legs.

“Words, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “Say it for me.”

“I-I love you,” you breathe, voice trembling. “I love you, Agatha…”

“Again.” She groans.

You squirm against her. “Be a good girl. Say it again.”

“I love you,” you whisper, more certain this time. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“That’s right,” she growls softly, dragging her mouth down your neck. “My good girl. My sweet, needy baby. You love me.”

You nod quickly. “I do, please, I love you.”

And now she’s moving, slow strokes over your panties, letting you grind down onto her cock, her hand, as she kisses you again, right under the ear.

“You know what that does to me?” she breathes. “Hearing you say that?”

You moan, high and soft, like it’s your only language.

She grins against your skin.

“I could fuck you just like this,” she murmurs. “Keep you in my lap, in my arms, whispering how much you love me while I ruin you on my cock…”

Your hips stutter.

“Would you let me, baby?”

“Y-yeah…”

“You want me to take you just like this?” she presses. “Still in your panties, just move ‘em to the side, slide in slow…”

You whine.

She groans again, deeper this time, more ragged.

“God, you make me crazy.”

You tilt your face toward hers, breath catching, and she kisses you again, hungry, deep, possessive.

“Say it one more time,” she whispers, forehead against yours.

You look up at her with those glassy, doe eyes, trembling, flushed, ring glittering on your finger where it clutches her arm, and you say it again like a prayer.

“I love you.”

“Good girl.” She exhales.

Her mouth never leaves your neck as her fingers tug the edge of your panties aside.

“You sure, baby?” she whispers, voice low and deep right against your skin.

You nod fast, breath shivering, hips rolling back into her. “Yes, yes, please, I want you…”

You hear her groan, that same ruined sound she makes when you moan her name in the dark, and her cock presses lower, guided by one strong hand until the head is nestled right there against your entrance. It’s so hot. And you’re so wet.

“Relax for me,” she murmurs, kissing your temple. “Gonna go real slow. I’ve got you.”

You whimper as she starts to slide in. Just the tip at first. Then she pauses to let you breathe. One hand cradling your hip, the other stroking up your stomach to cup your breast.

“Breathe, baby,” she murmurs, so tender, so in control.

You nod again, lip caught between your teeth, clutching at her wrist as her cock pushes deeper.

Your back arches instinctively, body trembling in her arms.

“Fuck Agatha!” You gasp.

“I know,” she groans against your ear, voice fraying. “You’re doing so good. So tight around me, baby, shit, just like that.”

She grinds in a little deeper, and you cry out, a broken, breathless gasp that makes her curse again under her breath.

“God, listen to you. You’re taking me, baby fuck, so good.”

You nod frantically, tears pricking your lashes, overwhelmed and full and clinging to her like she’s all you know.

She kisses your cheek. Your jaw. Your shoulder.

“I’ve got you. You’re mine. You know that, right?”

You sob out a yes, the ring on your finger catching the lamplight as your hand claws at the arm holding you.

“You love me, baby?” she pants, rocking into you slow and steady now, each inch dragging against nerves you didn’t know you had.

“Yes, yes I love you, I love you so much Agatha!”

And just like that she’s finally fully inside you. You gasp, feeling stretched and split and so safe. And she loves you like this, broken open in her arms, her cock buried deep and your lips whispering promises of forever into the dark. She moans, pulling you impossibly closer, your bodies flushed together, sweat slick and trembling.

“Never letting you go,” she growls. “Never. You’re mine.”

You can’t even speak anymore, just sob and shake and nod into her kiss, because she’s right. You’re hers. Forever.

“Oh, baby,” she breathes, hips rocking just enough to drag her cock over your sweet spot, the thick length of it buried so deep. “You feel that? Feel how good you’re takin’ me?”

You sob out a breathy yes and bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She’s got you caged against her chest, her arms wrapped tight around your middle, one hand palming your tit like she can’t get enough of how soft you are, how perfectly you fit against her.

She kisses your shoulder. Murmurs, “So tight around me, fuck you were made for this, baby. Made to take me.”

You shudder, helpless. Her cock grinds slow and steady inside you, every thrust making your thighs quake, your body melt further into hers.

She groans again, low and broken. “Can feel you flutterin’ around me, sweet girl. Like your pussy’s tryin’ to keep me.”

You nod into her throat, gasping when her hips roll again, deeper.

“Agatha…”

“Oh, I know,” she rasps. “It’s a lot, huh? You’ve never had anything like this. But look at you now, takin’ it so perfect.”

Her hand slides down between your legs and she circles your clit slowly and practiced.

You squeal, clutching her arm, legs shaking.

She moans into your hair. “That’s it, baby. Let mommy take care of you. Let me ruin this sweet little pussy for anyone else…”

“Y-You already did,” you whimper, voice shaking. “No one else, ever, just you…”

“Goddamn right it’s just me,” she growls, cock driving a little deeper now, a little faster. “You’re mine. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” you sob.

“My pretty little fiancée. Fuckin’ obsessed with you.”

Her fingers work faster on your clit, and you feel it building, too fast, too hard, and you whine, voice breaking, “C-Can’t, Agatha, oh my god!”

“You can, baby,” she purrs, mouth hot at your jaw. “Come for me. Right now. Wanna feel you soak me, wanna feel this pretty cunt cry for me.”

And just like that you shatter. Screaming. Clawing at her arm. Legs clamping shut as your whole body convulses in her lap, pussy squeezing so tight around her cock she curses, guttural and desperate, holding you through every wave of it.

She doesn’t stop. Not even when you’re shaking. Not even when the sobs spill out of your throat like helpless little gasps. She just kisses your shoulder, still whispering to you.

“That’s my girl. My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

You’re still crying when she finally stills her hips, her cock twitching inside you. You’re trembling, open, so full, your body completely spent.

When she pulls out you both whimper at the loss. You’re still so full, so raw and open, her cock slick with everything you gave her. And you don’t even have time to catch your breath before you feel her press a kiss to the top of your spine, her voice rough and aching.

“Need to come, baby. You gonna let me finish?”

You’re already nodding, teary-eyed and flushed, and she groans like she’s losing it.

“Yeah?” she rasps, sliding her hand down your back, your waist, your ass. “Get on all fours for me, then. Show me that sweet little pussy again.”

You whimper and do as you’re told, back arching instinctively, cunt still clenching around nothing as you present yourself for her.

“God damn,” she growls, kneeling behind you. “You look so fucked out, baby.”

She strokes her cock once, still hard and soaked with your juices, and lines herself up again.

“You sure?” she checks, even though she already knows the answer. “You’re sore, I know. But I gotta finish, baby. Gotta come in this tight little cunt.”

You look back at her with big, glassy eyes and whisper, “I want you to.”

That’s it. That’s all she needed. Her hands grip your hips, firm but reverent, and then she pushes in. You cry out and she curses under her breath, like the heat of you is overwhelming.

“Fuck,” she groans. “Still so tight, baby. Like your pussy knows it’s mine.”

You whimper again, burying your face in the pillow, gasping as she bottoms out, her hips snug against your ass, balls heavy against your thighs.

Agatha doesn’t move at first, just grips your hips and watches you take her. She watches how pretty you look stretched around her cock, how your back rises and falls in stuttered little breaths.

“You’re perfect,” she murmurs, low and rough. “You know that? No one’s ever touched you. No one but me.”

You nod, breath hitching. “Just you. Just want you.”

“Yeah, baby,” she rasps. “You’re mine.”

And then she moves. Her hips snap into you with a slow, punishing rhythm, not too fast, but deep. Every thrust knocks a little gasp out of you. Every drag of her cock makes your thighs shake.

You sob into the pillow. She groans behind you.

“Still so good for me,” she pants. “Even when you’re crying. Even when you’re sore. Still open for your mommy.”

You nod helplessly, as her hand slides up your back, between your shoulder blades, gently pressing you further into the mattress as she picks up the pace.

“You wanted me to come, didn’t you?” she grits out. “That’s why you got on all fours like this. ‘Cause you need it.”

“Yes,” you whimper, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Good girl.”

And that’s when she starts to lose it.

Her thrusts get rougher. She’s panting now, hands gripping your hips so hard they’ll leave bruises, cock twitching inside you with every grind.

You’re crying again, broken little sobs that only make her groan harder.

“Oh, my babygirl,” she pants. “So fuckin’ needy. Letting me use this sweet pussy however I want. You’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Please,” you sob. “I want you to. Please come, Mommy!”

That’s it. She slams deep and stays there, cock buried to the hilt, and you feel her jerk as she spills inside you, low and broken moans spilling from her throat as she comes.

She stays inside you, her weight draped over your back, her mouth pressing kisses to your spine, her voice ragged in your ear.

“That’s my girl,” she murmurs. “Took me so well. Made me feel so fuckin’ good.”

You collapse beneath her, trembling and tearful and completely claimed. She pulls you into her arms, still inside you, and kisses the top of your head.

She doesn’t pull out right away, instead Agatha keeps you pressed to her chest, your back against her front, her cock still buried deep in your sore, spent pussy. She has her arms wrapped tight around your waist as if she’s scared you’ll float away if she lets go.

You’re drifting, every part of you is flushed and fluttering and full. And Agatha is beaming.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “My baby took me so well. You feel that? How full you are?”

You nod, whimpering, too gone to speak.

She chuckles, all smug and fond, her hand sliding down to cup your inner thigh and pull your leg over hers, opening you up even more so she can feel herself still tucked inside.

“Yeah, you feel it,” she says proudly. “My perfect little fiancée. Always so good for me.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering closed, cheek nuzzled against her arm. You’re all melted down now, like honey in her bed, warm and sweet and still catching your breath.

“Did so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ tight. So desperate to make Mommy come, weren’t you?”

You nod again, teary and blissed out, and she groans softly like you’re her favorite thing in the world.

“You should’ve seen yourself,” she whispers against your ear. “Crying on my cock. All pretty and wide eyed. Fuckin’ heaven.”

You make a shy little noise, and she grins into your hair. “Oh don’t get all shy on me now. Not after you begged me to fuck you full.”

“Didn’t beg,” you mumble.

She laughs, full and warm. “No? That wasn’t begging, sweetheart?”

You hide your face in her bicep and she just cuddles you closer.

“I love you,” you whisper.

She kisses your forehead. as“I love you more. Gonna marry the fuck out of you. Never letting you go.”

Her fingers stroke your hip, then slip lower over the swell of your belly, down to where you’re still stretched and leaking, absolutely stuffed with her come. She hums, satisfied.

“God, look at that. My baby all full of me. You really are the perfect girl.”

You squirm a little, breath catching.

“Don’t move,” she murmurs. “Just let me hold you.”

And you do. You stay there, all tangled up, her cock still inside you, her voice in your ear. She doesn’t stop talking soft, dirty praise between kisses, her voice low and proud and sweet.

“Gonna keep you like this forever,” she says. “All mine.”

You nod against her, sleepy and blissed.

“My perfect girl. My good girl. My fiancée.” She smiles

The next morning, you wake to the sound of her making coffee in the kitchen, her flannel shirt thrown on over her bare skin, her own ring glinting on her finger as she leans against the counter, scrolling the news on her phone.

When you pad in wearing just one of her old shirts, still sleepy, she looks up and softens instantly.

“Hey, baby.”

You smile, rubbing your eyes as you come to hug her. Her hand comes up to hold your against her chest.

“You sleep okay?” she murmurs.

“Mhm. You?”

“Barely. Too busy thinking about you.”

You blink up at her, surprised, and she turns to face you fully.

“I mean it,” she says. “I’ve been thinking all night about how small you looked yesterday. When you told me about your mom.”

You glance down, instantly self-conscious. “I wasn’t trying to…”

“No, baby. I’m not upset,” she says gently. “But I want you to hear me.”

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, tilts your chin so you’re looking at her again. “I don’t want you hiding who you are. Or who we are. You hear me?”

You nod slowly.

“Good. Because I’m serious. Invite her.”

You blink. “What?”

“Invite your mom over,” Agatha says, voice steady. “I want to meet her.”

You shift, nervous. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“I do,” she says. “She needs to see us together. She needs to see how loved you are.”

You go quiet, lip trembling slightly, and Agatha wraps her arms around you.

“She needs to see you wearing that ring. In this house. Happy.”

You bury your face in her chest, and she presses a kiss to your hair.

“Let her try to ruin it,” she whispers. “It won’t change a thing. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

You nod, holding her tighter.

“I’ve got you, baby,” she murmurs. “Let’s face her together.”