#Agathario | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

claramelooo · 2 days ago

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WOVEN FATES (6/???)

Things are heating up around here, huh? Ready to melt?

What a hot chapter!!!

Be prepared and enjoy <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: After a long day, you see something that would change you forever.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist.

Desire

The next morning, the mansion was silent, but the atmosphere felt charged with something invisible, like static electricity in the air. You woke up to the soft light filtering through the window, Lucky still sleeping beside you, and a strange sensation of relief mixed with anxiety. Something was changing, but you couldn't quite define what.

Getting dressed that morning was a different experience. There was calm—a luxury you couldn’t afford before. You no longer had to grab the first piece of clothing you saw in the closet or calculate every minute to leave the house an hour early. That wasn’t necessary anymore. Not when Agatha took you, and Rio picked you up at the end of the day.

Now, you could wake up without rushing, stretch beside Lucky, tend to your meticulously arranged plants by the window, and finally, choose your outfit with care. You opted for a soft and comfortable cappuccino-brown T-shirt, loose around the arms but fitted at the bust. The V-neck added a casual touch, contrasting with the dark brown tailored pants that hugged your waist perfectly. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and for a rare moment, you felt beautiful.

As you walked downstairs toward the kitchen, a muffled sound caught your attention—the clinking of silverware, the rustling of fabric, the faint sizzle of something in a frying pan. You stopped at the entrance and saw Rio with her back to you, leaning over the stove, visibly confused about what she was trying to do. Her fingers drummed impatiently against the counter as she kept one eye on the coffee maker and the other on the culinary disaster unfolding before her.

The corner of your mouth lifted involuntarily. It was rare to see her like this—distracted, slightly clumsy.

“Good morning,” you announced, trying to suppress a laugh.

Rio startled slightly before turning her head in your direction, her eyes immediately scanning you. She seemed to assess you for a brief second before smiling.

"Hello, darling." Her voice was husky from sleep, and she turned off the stove to give you her full attention.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head toward the scene before you. “Hm… where are the staff?”

Rio let out a dramatic sigh. “The cook had to step away, and now I’m paying the price for never learning how to cook.”

You looked at the frying pan and tried to hide a grimace. The bacon was reduced to ashes, and the pan looked like a war victim.

Rio followed your gaze and shook her head in resignation. “Before you say anything—yes, I know it looks bad. But I think it’s still edible.”

You let out a soft laugh, stepping closer. “I can try…” You gestured toward the stove, offering sincerely.

Rio crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I’ll manage.” But her eyes betrayed her hesitation as they flicked to the ruined food.

“I’d really like to try.” Your voice came out softer than expected.

Rio held your gaze for a moment, then smiled and stepped back, giving you space.

As you cracked eggs into a new pan, you glanced at her casually. “Where’s Agatha?”

Rio leaned against the counter, watching you with amusement in her eyes. “Still asleep. Aggie is not a morning person.”

The way she said it, with a touch of affection hidden in her tone, made you smile without even realizing it.

Rio just leaned slightly against the counter, arms crossed as she observed you. “Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice low, almost casual, but you could feel the weight behind the words.

“Yes... I think so,” you replied, not entirely sure. “I mean... I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn’t want to cause trouble for you or Agatha.”

Rio let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Trouble? Girl, you don’t know what trouble is.” Her expression softened quickly, almost as if she wanted to correct herself. “What happened yesterday was... unexpected, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

You lowered your gaze, unsure how to respond. It was always like this with Rio—she said so much in so few words, yet it felt like she was holding back even more.

With a light sigh, you placed the scrambled eggs and bacon on a plate and stepped closer, serving her almost ceremoniously. Your hesitant fingers brushed over her hand in a gesture that surprised both you and the slightly intrigued expression on Rio’s face.

“Rio, I—” you began, your voice carrying something between hesitation and need. “I wanted to thank you… for helping my brother. He was really happy.”

Josh’s satisfied voice and smile from that day flashed in your memory—you were happy for your brother. But something was still missing, and you knew it.

Rio watched you for a moment before her expression softened slightly. A hint of satisfaction flickered in her gaze.

“I told you I’d help, didn’t I?”

“Yes…” You nodded, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Something inside you knew you had to choose your words carefully, had to find a way to address what really mattered. “And I’m very grateful. But… what about my job?”

You noticed the subtle shift in Rio’s posture. Her body tensed for a brief moment, her thumb tracing an almost imperceptible pattern against your skin before she slowly released your hand.

Rio kept her eyes locked on yours, her dark gaze studying every detail of you with an intensity hard to decipher. She hesitated for a moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was almost gentle—but firm enough to leave no room for debate.

"I’ve thought about it." She subtly twisted the ring on her finger, a distracted habit, as if carefully choosing her words. "You already have a job, bunny. Your internship with Agatha."

You felt the weight of that sentence. It was true, but it wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“But the internship isn’t paid,” you argued, frowning. “And I—”

“—And you don’t need to worry about that,” Rio interrupted softly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Money shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but something in her tone made your voice falter.

“Maybe…” Rio tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing along your wrist absentmindedly, sending a strange shiver down your spine. “An allowance could be a solution. You could focus on your studies, on what really matters, without having to chase after some random job.”

Her words hit you in a strange way, something warm and unsettling spreading in your chest.

“An allowance?” You repeated, more to buy time than out of real confusion.

Rio smiled slightly, as if your surprise was endearing. As if you were being stubborn for refusing something so simple.

"Yeah, little one. You don’t need to worry about these things." She tightened her grip on your wrist, almost like a warning. "Leave that to me."

You bit your lip, feeling your pride twist inside you, that old need for independence screaming at you not to accept it. You had always handled things on your own. You always knew that relying on others meant giving them power over you. But Rio already had power over you, didn’t she?

And deep down, something about the way she said leave that to me made your stomach sink in a way you weren’t sure was fear or something else.

Before your thoughts could go any further, the unmistakable sound of Agatha’s heels echoed through the kitchen. Each step felt deliberately measured, filling the space with her presence before she even fully appeared.

She walked in—impeccable, as always—dressed in black with an almost cruel elegance. Her flawless brown hair cascaded in waves, framing her sharp features and enhancing her poised stance. Her gaze landed on you immediately, assessing every detail of your presence. But to your surprise, there was no trace of anger or impatience—just that ever-present intensity in her eyes.

"Good morning." Agatha’s voice was soft but carried an undeniable authority. You felt your face heat up, memories of the previous night rushing back. Your eyes dropped to the cup in your hands.

"Good morning," you replied, barely above a whisper. After a moment of silence, you hesitated before adding, "Agatha, I... about last night... I’m sorry."

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem surprised by your attempt at an apology. "There’s no need to repeat that," she said, reaching for a slice of bread. Her tone wasn’t cold, but there was a hint of impatience, making it clear she had no interest in dwelling on the past.

"But I—" you started, your voice slightly trembling.

"It’s over," she cut you off, her gaze now fixed on you. "I accept your apology. It’s not something we’ll be revisiting."

Agatha glided over to the counter, stopping beside Rio and pulling her in for a kiss—one that you, despite your lack of experience, could tell was anything but ordinary.

They kissed with an intensity you had never seen before, so tangible that you felt your cheeks flush just from watching. Agatha’s hands slid along the curve of Rio’s waist, pulling her closer, as if trying to fuse their bodies together.

The tension between them was palpable, anything but discreet, like a silent electric current. Rio took a step to the side, slightly unsteady, still intoxicated by her wife’s scent.

Agatha took your nearly empty cup from your hands with a gesture that was both gentle and firm. For a brief moment, her fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. She turned the cup between her fingers as if she were evaluating something beyond what the eye could see before handing it back to you.

"I see you're ready," she said, her voice low, charged with authority—but lacking the sharpness you had expected. "We leave in five minutes."

Rio cast a quick glance at Agatha but said nothing, merely stirring her coffee again, a nearly imperceptible smile on her lips.

A tense silence followed, but Agatha’s directness felt more like a relief than anything else. You nodded slowly, your cheeks still warm, and focused on drinking your hot chocolate.

You nearly choked on it. "What?"

She arched an eyebrow again, as if daring you to question her. "You heard me. Go get your things."

"I can go alone, you know. There's no need to worry," you tried to argue—more out of reflex than actual conviction.

"This isn’t up for discussion," she replied, sharp but not unkind. There was something in her expression that made it seem as though, despite her tone, the decision was final—and, in some way, more about her than about you.

Rio watched the interaction in silence, a faint smile playing on her lips but not interfering. When you hesitated, unsure whether to argue further, Agatha tilted her head slightly, as if gauging your reaction.

"Trust me, dear," she finally said, her tone low and layered with a deeper meaning.

You nodded, a little nervous but also strangely moved by the gesture. Something about the way she said it felt... protective, even if it was masked by her usual stern demeanor.

"Then go," Agatha repeated, and you nearly jumped from your seat, mumbling another "thank you" before hurrying off to your room.

As soon as you disappeared down the hall, Rio spoke, breaking the silence. "You're going to scare her off with that approach, you know?"

Agatha took a sip of her coffee, not taking her eyes off the door you had just walked through. "But I didn’t do anything," she said, turning her attention back to her phone.

Rio let out a low chuckle, shaking her head, but said nothing more.

The car slid smoothly through the city streets. The muffled hum of the engine filled the almost oppressive silence inside the vehicle. You sat in the passenger seat, your hands restless in your lap, trying to focus on the passing urban landscape outside the window. But it was impossible to ignore Agatha’s presence beside you—the scent of her perfume, her impeccable posture, the way she held the steering wheel with an almost exaggerated elegance.

You had always found her intimidating, but at that moment, the proximity was unsettling. Part of you wanted to stay silent, to respect her quiet nature, but another part—the more impulsive and anxious one—couldn’t stand the idea of letting the ride pass without saying something.

Should you speak? About what? And how could you make it sound natural?

Ignoring all the intrusive thoughts, you adjusted your posture in the leather seat and focused on the view outside, as if looking at her was too difficult. Then, you decided to take a risk.

"I’ve been thinking about your films..." Your voice sounded hesitant, and you immediately wanted to bite your tongue, but you pushed forward. "It’s impossible not to admire how you... bring stories to life."

Agatha arched a brow slightly, which already felt like a victory. You swallowed hard and rushed to continue.

"For example, Whispers in the Dark..." you began, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I’ve watched it at least ten times. It’s brilliant. The way you film the characters’ eyes... it’s like the silence speaks louder than the words. And that play of light and shadow? It feels like every scene has a hidden layer, like you want the audience to feel like voyeurs but without knowing exactly what they’re witnessing."

Agatha didn’t answer immediately, but you noticed the corner of her lips twitch in a barely perceptible smile.

"You noticed that..." she said, her voice low and faintly surprised. "Few understand the true intention behind that film. It wasn’t meant to be obvious... it was meant to be unsettling."

"And it is. Impossible not to be, actually..." you said quickly, encouraged by the fact that she hadn’t cut you off. "That scene where Diana is alone in the room, looking into the mirror, and the camera focuses on her reflection but never on her real face? It’s like... like the reflection is more real than she is. Like she’s hiding who she really is. That was your intention, wasn’t it?"

Agatha’s eyes finally left the road and landed on you for a brief second. Something flickered in the deep blue—maybe recognition, or maybe a hint of pleasure at seeing someone grasp her intent.

"Hmm... Observant," she admitted, her tone almost praising but still laced with her usual reserve. "The reflection represented what she couldn’t admit to herself. The audience was supposed to feel that discomfort, that duality."

You nodded eagerly, feeling your heart race. "I felt that! It was like... like I was invading her privacy, but at the same time, she wanted to be seen. It’s so rare to find a film that makes you feel something that visceral."

Agatha smiled again, this time more noticeably, her lips curving into a gesture that seemed to know too much—almost like a silent challenge. The movement brought out the soft lines around her eyes, an expression that was as confident as it was disarming.

"You really have a good eye, don’t you?" she said, her voice low, husky, carrying something that made your heart race.

"I can’t help it," you replied, feeling your mouth act before your brain. The words came out laced with a raw honesty you didn’t know you had the courage to verbalize. "Your films are… different. They get under your skin. Mine, at least."

Agatha’s eyes flickered toward the road, but something in her posture shifted subtly. Her shoulders, once so rigid, relaxed almost imperceptibly, and silence settled between you. But it wasn’t an empty silence. It was heavy, dense, as if the words left unsaid hovered between you, filling every inch of the car with a nearly palpable tension.

As the car began to slow, Agatha parked with precision a few blocks from the university. She kept her gaze fixed on the steering wheel for a moment before speaking, her voice low but commanding:

"You get out here."

The order was direct, breaking the small spell of the moment. You knew it was inevitable, but still, the coldness of her words made something inside you wither. Of course, you couldn’t be seen together. Any "special treatment" you were getting had to remain a well-kept secret.

You were about to reach for your backpack in the backseat when she continued:"I’m giving a lecture today. I want you there."

The surprise made you freeze. "M-me?"

Finally, she turned to you, and her eyes held you captive. It was as if she were stripping you bare with that gaze, assessing you, testing you, but also… desiring you. She adjusted the collar of your blouse, her fingers grazing the skin of your neck. "Yes. Pay attention."

"I will," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, unable to hide the small smile forming on your lips. But as you leaned down to grab your backpack from the car floor, the unexpected happened.

Agatha’s hand reached for it at the same time as yours, and the touch was brief but charged with electricity.

The tips of her fingers brushed against yours, and the simple contact sent a shiver down your spine, heat rising to your cheeks and trailing down paths you tried to ignore.

She didn’t pull her hand away immediately. On the contrary, she pressed her fingers against yours with a firm but gentle touch, as if trying to hold you in place. Her gaze dropped to the small scar on your finger from yesterday’s cut. She brushed over it lightly, and you shivered at the touch—so subtle, so unlike anything you’d expect from Agatha.

She leaned in, just enough that your noses almost touched. Her perfume—floral and mysterious, a forbidden garden of black roses—wrapped around you, leaving you frozen, unable to look away from those piercing blue eyes that now seemed to consume you whole.

Her proximity was intoxicating, like standing at the edge of a cliff, feeling the rush of a possible fall.

"Behave for me. Be good for me." She whispered, her voice trembling, full of promise and control. Every word seemed to sink straight into your core, your clit pulsing, reverberating in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You nodded, your breath caught in your throat, as if your entire body were tangled up in hers. The way she held your hand was contradictory—possessive yet incredibly delicate. It was as if she were studying you, playing with you like a cat with its prey.

Then, just as quickly as she had leaned in, Agatha pulled away, releasing your hand slowly, almost reluctantly, and handing you your backpack with a precise movement. The car door opened, but you were still dazed, her touch burning into your skin as if she had left an invisible mark.

"I’ll be," you repeated, your voice weaker than you intended, your eyes still locked onto hers. There was something in the way she looked at you—like she already knew the effect she had on you. Like she already knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

She didn’t reply. As soon as you closed the door and took a few steps, the car drove off smoothly, disappearing around the corner. You stood there for a few seconds, heart pounding. For the first time, you felt like you had carved out a small space within the fortress that was Agatha Harkness.

You walked through the hallways, your heart still racing—not from academic pressure, but from the fresh memory of Agatha. Of course, her lecture was the highlight of the day, and everyone seemed excited about it, but what you felt was something entirely different. Nervousness mixed with admiration and… something deeper you preferred not to analyze too much.

At the entrance of your classroom, Peter was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a mischievous smile on his face. Next to him, Darcy was scrolling through her phone with a bored expression, probably mentally complaining about something.

"Finally!" Peter exclaimed when he saw you. "I thought you’d been kidnapped by that grumpy cat."

"Lucky is not grumpy," you replied, trying to hide a smile.

"But he’s definitely not friendly," Darcy added without looking up from her phone. "Shit." She huffed, sounding frustrated.

"What’s wrong?" you asked.

"I’m trying to see if anyone backed out of Harkness’s lecture. Come on! They announced it so suddenly that I didn’t have time to sign up. There are literally no spots left!" Darcy whined. You knew how much she admired Agatha.

And the fact that you needed to register just to be in the same room as her didn’t surprise you. If anything, it made more sense now. Agatha was a busy woman—she wouldn’t waste her time with an audience that didn’t know what they wanted.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your phone.

"Maybe I can help," you said, unlocking it and looking for your message thread with Agatha.

Darcy scoffed, incredulous.

"So, just because you work there now, you have her personal number?"

Yes. Exactly.

"No! Are you crazy? I’ll talk to her assistant."

You typed a message:

Hey. Are you very busy? I need help with something, if you’re available. :)

The response didn’t take long:

I’m always busy. But I can try to help you, dear.

Her tone felt so characteristic, even in text. You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks heat up as your mind drifted back to earlier—her fingers tracing your scar. Suddenly, your finger tingled.

You let out a shaky breath as you composed your next message.

A friend of mine couldn't get a spot for your lecture.

The reply came even faster this time

A little responsibility would do her good.

You could practically hear Agatha saying those words.

Please! She's a fan. The kind who knows everything about you but would probably be speechless if she got too close.

There was a pause before the next message, as if Agatha were weighing each word. You felt anxious and decided to nudge her for a response.

It's okay if it's not possible, but I thought I'd ask…

This time, the reply was swift.

I can make an exception. Just one. Send her name to my assistant.

You smiled, relieved yet nervous at the same time. When you looked up, Darcy was still staring at you, full of expectation.

"Well?!" she practically shouted. "You have a guaranteed spot," you replied, trying not to let the chaos inside you show.

Darcy let out a squeal of excitement, pulling you into a tight hug. "You're an angel! An angel, I swear!"

"Don't push your luck twice," Peter murmured, though there was a smirk at the corner of his lips.

As Darcy continued celebrating, you glanced back at your phone screen.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You're incredible.

The response came like a whisper at the back of your mind.

I'm very pleased to know you think so, darling.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you put your phone away, hiding the smile threatening to surface. She was happy, and she had let you know it. She was a mystery, but you felt like you were beginning to decipher a few pieces—even if they only led to more questions.

[…]

Professor Calderu entered the classroom with her usual presence, heavy with authority. She set her bag on the desk and scanned the room with that piercing gaze that made everyone instinctively sit up straighter.

"Good morning, class. I hope you're ready for something different today. We'll be working in pairs on a mythology writing project," she announced as students started glancing at each other, already searching for partners. "I want you to create an original mystical creature—something that feels real within a narrative, something that could fit into a legend or a folktale. The pairs have already been assigned."

You listened carefully, but your stomach twisted as she began calling names.

"You," she said, pointing at you, then turned to a girl sitting in the corner, half-hidden behind her notebook. "And Alice."

Alice Wu lifted her eyes slowly, her face flushing red with surprise. You offered her an encouraging smile, but she quickly looked away, burying herself back in her notebook.

After class, you made your way to her desk while Peter and Darcy waved exaggeratedly from a distance, whispering things you deliberately ignored.

"Hey, Alice," you said gently, trying not to startle her. "Looks like we’re partners now."

She gave a small nod, still looking at her notebook. "Yeah… looks like it."

An awkward silence settled before you tried again. "I was thinking… since we don’t know each other well, maybe we could meet up to talk? I think it’d help if we got a feel for each other’s ideas before we start creating."

Alice blinked in surprise and finally looked up. Her eyes were large and clear, filled with a certain vulnerability that made you want to get closer. "You… want to go out with me?"

"Yes!" you blurted out quickly. "I mean—not like a date or anything, of course, but—like, for the project. Unless you'd rather do everything online?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no! In person is always better. I just… didn’t expect this. No one usually invites me to anything."

"Well, then it’s about time that changed," you said with a sincere smile.

Alice finally smiled back, shy but genuine. "Okay. When do you want to meet?"

"How about after Agatha’s lecture? I really need to see it, but we can plan something after," you suggested, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice when mentioning Agatha.

Alice nodded again. "Sure. I’ll be free."

The bell rang, and as you said goodbye to Alice, Peter and Darcy approached with amused expressions.

"You’re really a magnet for lonely souls," Darcy commented.

"Or maybe you’re just too nice," Peter added.

"Or maybe you two are insufferable," you retorted, rolling your eyes—but deep down, you were happy. The day had started out strange, but maybe it was getting better—or at least, more interesting.

[…]

The room filled up within minutes. Students, professors, and even a few industry professionals murmured excitedly, the air thick with admiration and anticipation. You slipped in quietly, gripping the strap of your backpack, scanning for a more secluded seat. You didn’t want to draw attention—not here, not now.

Spotting an empty row in the back, you let out a relieved breath, but before you could reach it, a firm hand grasped your wrist.

"Hey, slow down," a familiar voice murmured, low and full of intent.

You turned quickly, only to meet Rio’s charming face.

"Rio?" Your voice came out as a hushed, confused whisper, laced with disbelief.

What was she doing here?

"It’s me, darling," she replied, that disarming smile playing on her lips. The sharp glint in her eyes made it clear she was here for a reason.

You glanced around, checking if anyone had noticed. "What are you doing here?" you asked, keeping your voice low.

Rio leaned in slightly, her tone conspiratorial. "How could I miss this? Agatha hardly ever gives lectures like this. Besides…" She paused dramatically, her gaze flickering to the back row where you had been heading. "You were really going to sit all the way back there?"

"It’s safer. No one will notice me." You tried to justify your choice.

Rio raised an amused eyebrow. "Safe for who? Certainly not for you. Agatha wanted you here, you know?"

Your face heated up. "I know, but… sitting back there is just easier. I don’t need to be… right in front of her."

Rio let out a soft chuckle, unmistakable amusement in her voice. "Oh, darling. Do you really think she won’t notice you? Or worse… that she doesn’t want to?"

Your heart skipped uncomfortably, and you opened your mouth to argue, but Rio didn’t give you the chance.

"Listen, if you stay back here, you’ll miss the important details. Agatha doesn’t like distracted audiences," she murmured, a touch of mischief in her voice. "And trust me, sitting up front won’t be so bad."

"I don’t know, Rio…" You hesitated, still eyeing the more discreet row like it was your lifeline.

Rio tilted her head, an expression of feigned patience crossing her face. "You trust me, don’t you?"

You nodded slowly, still unsure.

"Then come with me," she insisted, tugging at your wrist gently. "Trust me. No one will pay attention to you… except for the one person who actually matters."

She guided you through the rows to a spot near the front—hidden enough to avoid wandering eyes but perfectly positioned for a clear view of the stage.

As you finally sat down, you tried to steady yourself, though it was impossible to ignore the fact that Agatha could definitely see you from here.

Rio sat beside you, crossing her legs with the kind of effortless grace that seemed to come naturally to her.

You whispered, trying to mask your nervousness. "Did she ask you to bring me here?"

Rio turned to you with a cryptic smile, leaning in just enough to whisper back. "Let’s just say I have my ways… but she’ll definitely be pleased to see you here."

Before you could process it, the room’s lights dimmed, and a single spotlight illuminated the stage. Agatha stepped in, her imposing and elegant figure commanding everyone’s attention. She stopped at the center, scanning the audience with a controlled, knowing smile.

For a moment that felt longer than it should have, her eyes found yours. And when they did, the heat in your face spread all the way to your fingertips. You tried to look away, but it was impossible—something about the way she looked at you held you in place.

Beside you, Rio murmured with a satisfied smile, “I told you that you needed to be here.”

The auditorium was packed. There was an electric energy in the air, a mix of excitement and reverence that seemed to follow Agatha Harkness wherever she went. As she took the stage, the sound of applause filled the room, and her smile was devastating—confident, charming, and tinged with that sarcastic humor that made everyone feel like they were part of a private show.

“I hope you’re here to talk about the magic of cinema… and not to ask me for spoilers,” she began, drawing immediate laughter from the audience. “If that were the case, I’d be charging double.”

The warm lights accentuated her flawless skin, her blue eyes gleaming under the glow of the spotlights. “The truth is, directing films is almost like being a witch—you manipulate what people see and feel, deceive the eye, and capture their soul. Hopefully, without using an actual spell.”

The audience was completely spellbound. She explained scene composition techniques, the psychological use of shadows and light, and the power of silence. Every word was laced with irresistible confidence, intertwined with cynical remarks that kept everyone captivated.

“The secret to a great film?” Agatha leaned slightly forward, as if about to reveal something forbidden. “Trick the audience, but make them grateful for it afterward.”

“All jokes aside,” she continued, “making films is like casting magic. Every scene, every cut, every choice of light and sound—it’s all a spell meant to deceive, seduce, and sometimes, transform the audience. But the real art is in the details. And those details… take time, patience, and, of course, a little bit of madness.”

The laughter was softer this time, but the admiring glances were unmistakable. She began detailing her unique approach to filmmaking, highlighting her inspirations for the critically acclaimed Black Flame, a psychological horror film that had become an instant classic.

As Agatha spoke, you felt something—a casual touch on your arm. Beside you, Rio seemed completely absorbed in the presentation, but her hand had drifted to the armrest, brushing against your skin with an unsettling familiarity. You tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was an innocent gesture, but the touch was insistent, deliberate.

“… the trick is to make the audience feel like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be,” Agatha said, her voice like poisoned honey, seducing every single person in the room.

But as Rio’s touch lingered, something inside you tightened. The warmth of that simple contact began spreading across your skin, slow and devastating. Her fingers slipped over the thin fabric of your clothes, trailing down to the curve of your hip with ease. Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, trying to make no sound.

Her hand moved dangerously close to your thighs, the motion so casual yet so ruinous. She didn’t even look at you, her eyes fixed on the stage as if she were doing nothing at all. But you knew. Your body knew.

Heat climbed up your neck, and you shifted slightly in your seat, struggling to keep your composure. A part of you wanted to push her away, break free from this trance. After all, they were married. This was wrong. Right?

“Rio…” you whispered, trying to sound firm, but your voice came out shakier than you wanted.

“Shh,” she replied, her gaze still locked on Agatha, as if nothing was happening. “Agatha is speaking.”

You tried to focus, but Rio’s hand was now so close to your center that you could barely breathe. Every touch sent a spark of electricity through you, the rising heat almost unbearable. Her long, skilled fingers inched closer, and you had to bite your lip to stifle a sound.

“You’re trembling, bunny…” Rio whispered, her voice rough with amusement. “Pay attention. Aggie won’t like it if you miss this.”

The nickname sent a full-body shiver through you, a strangled breath caught in your throat. You tried to focus on Agatha’s words, but the firm grip of Rio’s hand pressing into your aching core was too much, sending waves of heat straight to your senses.

With your heart racing, you gathered all the strength you had to lift your gaze toward the stage. And that’s when you saw her.

Agatha’s blue eyes were locked onto the two of you, gleaming with something wild and indecipherable. She hadn’t stopped talking, but there was a different lilt to her voice now, an almost taunting cadence.

She knew.

And she wasn’t angry.

On the contrary, there was raw hunger in her gaze—she looked like a ravenous spectator, a voyeur absorbing every detail of the scene unfolding before her. Her attention on you was so intense it nearly stole the air from your lungs.

Rio smirked, as if she could feel the invisible current Agatha was directing toward you both. And then she squeezed your thigh harder, anchoring you even deeper into this impossible moment. Her fingers were now so close to your clit that you could feel the pressure even through your clothes. Each movement was calculated, each touch a promise of something more.

A shiver ran down your spine, blending with the heat already consuming you. Your hips shifted again, craving more of that contact, even knowing it was wrong. It was as if Agatha’s gaze and Rio’s touch were pulling you into a sweet, dangerous abyss, and you had no strength to resist.

“You like this?” Rio murmured, her fingers now pressing with more intent, making you swallow a moan. “Being watched. Being observed.”

You tried to deny it, but your body betrayed you. Your hips moved again, and the damp heat between your thighs was impossible to ignore. Agatha’s gaze felt like it was scorching your skin, and you knew she was seeing everything—every tremor, every movement, every breath you tried to suppress.

“Rio…” you whispered again, but this time, your voice was filled with a need you could no longer disguise.

She hummed, her fingers now circling ever so slowly, so close to your clit that your entire body tensed. “Let her see. Let her know what you’re capable of just to keep her eyes on you.”

“You’re doing so well, little bunny,” Rio purred, pressing firmer, making you bite your lip harder to hold back a sound. “Let her see how good you can be.”

And you surrendered.

Your hips rocked forward once more, and a tremor rippled through you, a wave of pleasure on the verge of breaking. Agatha’s gaze and Rio’s touch were too much, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Agatha’s eyes devoured the scene like a film, her analytical, predatory gaze absorbing the way Rio’s hand moved over you like a painter on a blank canvas. Marking you. Owning you. Each calculated touch carried a wildness, as if she were proving something—to you, to Agatha, or maybe to herself.

Rio saw the hunger in Agatha’s icy blue gaze. She saw the way the woman feigned indifference, answering the audience’s questions with ease. But Rio knew how much this was affecting her.

She knew Agatha wanted more.

You felt the heat rise to your face, but you couldn’t look away from Agatha. Her blue eyes were like an abyss, pulling you in, making you feel exposed, vulnerable, yet incredibly alive. It was as if she could see every part of you, every secret, every fear, and still didn’t care. Or maybe she cared too much.

Rio chuckled softly, her warm breath against your ear. “She likes you, bunny. She knows you're special.” Her hand slid lower, fingers finding the exact spot that made you gasp. “But you need to show her. You need to prove you’re strong enough.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind your eyelids. It was too much—Rio’s touch, Agatha’s gaze, the pressure building inside you, ready to explode. But you didn’t want it to stop. You couldn’t.

“Please,” you murmured, your voice broken, barely audible.

“Please what?” Rio asked, lips curling into a wicked smile. “You have to ask, darling. Tell me what you want.”

You looked at Agatha, searching for some form of salvation, but she only raised an eyebrow, waiting. It was as if she was testing you, seeing how far you were willing to go.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice a little steadier this time. “I want… I want to show her.”

Rio let out a satisfied hum. “That’s my girl.” Her hand moved faster, fingers pressing with a precision that made you moan loudly. “Then show her. Show her how good you can be.”

And you did. Your body arched, muscles tensing as the wave of pleasure finally crashed over you, sweeping you away like a tide. You wanted to scream, but the sound was muffled by the palm of your hand.

When you finally opened your eyes, Agatha was still there, watching with that calculating stare, but now there was something else in her eyes. Something that looked almost… proud.

“Good girl,” Rio murmured, her voice soft but heavy with meaning. “You did well.”

You felt a different kind of heat rise to your face, but this time it wasn’t shame. It was something deeper, more intense. Something you couldn’t name.

What the fuck just happened?

—

The event had been a resounding success. The room was still filled with people talking, laughing, discussing the most striking moments of the interview. You, however, stood in the corner, watching as Agatha and Rio were surrounded by journalists, photographers, and assistants. They were as dazzling as ever, the perfect combination of authority and charisma.

You gathered your courage and decided to approach. It was nothing major—you just wanted to congratulate Agatha on the show and let her know you were heading out with Alice. But as you tried to weave through the crowd, an invisible wall seemed to rise around you.

One of Agatha’s assistants intercepted your path.

“Sorry, miss, but she’s busy at the moment,” he said with a polite yet firm smile.

You tried to argue, but another journalist slipped past you, invading the space you had been trying to reach. Agatha didn’t even glance to the side. Rio stood beside her, laughing softly at something a reporter had said. You waited, remained still, hoping at least one of them would notice you.

Nothing.

A tightness formed in your chest, a bitter and unexpected sensation. You knew they were busy, that this was their world, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow. It hurt more than it should. At that moment, it was as if you were invisible to both of them.

You took a deep breath, trying to push down the sting of rejection. “Ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, feeling the lump in your throat threaten to form. They had no obligation to notice you, but… that wasn’t what you wanted. Not after everything.

Lowering your shoulders, you sighed and turned away, leaving the room before anyone could catch the glint of disappointment in your eyes.

Out in the hallway, as you walked toward the exit, you pulled out your phone and typed a message to Agatha.

Tonight was incredible. You are incredible! I’m heading out with a friend. Be back soon :)

You hesitated before sending it, your thumb hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to delete the message. It wasn’t urgent, and maybe she wouldn’t even have time to read it, but another part insisted. It was your way of not disappearing completely, of reminding her that you were there.

After hitting “send,” you slipped your phone back into your pocket and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the discomfort in your chest as you walked off to meet Alice. You tried to convince yourself you had no reason to feel this way, but the truth was, in that moment, you felt far too small for the vast, glittering world those two women seemed to reign over.

—

You met Alice at the café near the university. It was a small, cozy place, with string lights hanging from the ceiling and the constant scent of freshly ground coffee in the air. Alice was already seated at a corner table, a thick book open in front of her, her hands fidgeting slightly. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her round glasses seemed a bit too big for her delicate face. She smiled shyly when she saw you.

“Hey, Alice,” you said, pulling out the chair across from her. “Hope you didn’t wait too long.”

“No, I got here early,” she replied, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “It’s hard to concentrate in the library, so… I thought this might be easier.”

You chuckled, trying to put her at ease. “Seems like a good place to conjure mystical beings, huh? Nothing like coffee and a little chaos for inspiration.”

Alice smiled for real this time, a small but genuine expression. “I agree. So… do you have any ideas yet? You seem more creative than I am.”

“Creative? Me? I think you’re being generous,” you replied, leaning in slightly. “But maybe we can start with something we both like. Witches, maybe?”

Alice’s eyes lit up. “I love witch stories! But it has to be something different… something we haven’t seen before.”

The conversation with Alice continued for another hour until, with a thoughtful expression, she rested her chin on her hands, elbows propped on the table.

“What if we start with an ancient legend?” she suggested, her eyes shining with a quiet enthusiasm. “Something that feels like it’s been around for thousands of years but has an air of mystery, you know? Like the kind of story people whisper just to scare others…”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what, for example?”

Alice tilted her head slightly, as if fishing for words in the air. Then she began, her voice lower, more enthralling, almost conspiratorial.

“They say that millions of years ago, there was a witch so powerful she didn’t even have to lift a finger to destroy someone. She didn’t cast grand spells or throw curses… She did something far more cruel. She drained people’s life energy, but not in an obvious way, you know?”

A shiver ran down your spine, though you tried to convince yourself it was just the atmosphere of the moment. “Drained life energy? How so?”

You tried not to react, but her words hit you like a stone. What Alice was describing sounded dangerously familiar.

“Did she do it for pleasure?” Your voice came out weaker than you intended.

Alice shook her head slowly, her gaze distant. “No. Not exactly. I think, deep down, she did it because she felt like it was the only way to survive. As if there was an emptiness inside her that could never be filled. Every bit of energy she took from another person was like a desperate attempt to fill that void.”

You felt a pang in your heart. "How did she do that?" The words left your mouth as if they were forbidden.

Alice looked at you—thinking, thinking, and thinking. "I’m not sure," she shrugged. "But they say she always seemed so charming, so irresistible. People fell into her web without even realizing it."

You crossed your arms, averting your gaze to the table. "And no one ever managed to stop her?"

"They say there was one person," Alice replied, lowering her voice even more, as if afraid someone nearby might overhear. "A woman who confronted her. Not with hatred or violence, and that made the woman equally consumed."

For a moment, the café around you disappeared. You could only think about Alice's words and the weight they carried.

Alice noticed your silence and let out an awkward laugh, adjusting her glasses. "Sorry, I think I went too far, right? Maybe this is too dark for a college assignment."

You forced a smile, trying to hide the internal confusion. "No, it's great. I actually think it’s amazing. I think… it could work."

Alice smiled, somewhat relieved. "Cool. I think we can work on this more, right? Develop the witch, add more details about her story."

"Yes," you replied, your voice soft but still distant. "Definitely."

You arrived home with a lightness you hadn’t felt in a long time. The fatigue of the day clung to your muscles, but a quiet satisfaction coursed through your chest. Things finally seemed to be falling into place—small fragments of hope composing a life you hadn't imagined possible.

Kicking off your shoes at the entrance, you took a deep breath, letting the familiar scent of home embrace you. You climbed the stairs slowly, each step bringing a sense of comfort and belonging. Until then, everything felt normal.

But as you approached the hallway leading to the bedrooms, something different sharpened your senses. Low, muffled sounds escaped down the quiet corridor. Moans. Heavy breathing.

Their bedroom door was slightly ajar.

Your heart pounded, hesitating for a moment, but your feet disobeyed logic—you moved closer, as if pulled by an invisible magnet. When your eyes finally met the narrow gap of the door, the air caught in your lungs.

Rio was on top of Agatha, her hips moving in a frantic, calculated rhythm, their bodies glistening under the room’s soft light. The sight was almost brutal in its beauty—wild, intense, unfiltered. The expression of pure pleasure on Rio’s face made something inside you tighten and pulse violently.

Rio arched her body, every muscle taut as her hips thrust rhythmically against Agatha, who writhed beneath her, head thrown back, exposing her sweaty, vulnerable neck. The room was saturated with obscene sounds—ragged moans, the muffled creak of the bed, and the wet, merciless slap of their bodies colliding.

The strap-on Rio wore moved with an almost brutal precision. Even knowing she couldn’t physically feel it, the dark, feverish look in her eyes suggested otherwise—as if every deep thrust was a direct reflection of the pleasure consuming her body. Her lips were slightly parted, breathing erratic, and her hands gripped Agatha’s waist firmly, keeping her in place as her movements became faster and more reckless.

"Fuck," Rio panted, chest rising and falling frantically. "You’re so fucking tight… I can feel everything."

Agatha cried out, a rough, desperate sound, her nails raking down Rio’s back. Her hips lifted instinctively, seeking more, demanding more. Her expression was a mix of ecstasy and agony, blue eyes nearly shut, shining under the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

"Deeper," Agatha begged, voice hoarse and shameless. "Don’t stop… I want you to tear me apart from the inside."

The provocation made Rio growl like an animal, her thrusts becoming even more intense. She leaned in, pressing the weight of her breasts against Agatha’s, their faces so close their breaths intertwined.

"Like this?" Rio snarled in her ear, her voice vibrating with a possessive power that left Agatha teetering on the edge of insanity. "Tell me, my love… do you like being fucked by me like this?"

Agatha couldn’t respond with words—only a strangled moan escaped her lips, her desperate fingers now digging into Rio’s shoulders, as if holding onto her was the only thing keeping her anchored to reality.

The bed rocked beneath the intensity of their movements, the scent of sweat and desire hanging heavy in the air. Rio remained steady, muscles flexing as the relentless rhythm of the strap-on dragged louder, more desperate moans from Agatha.

'Cause you, you touch

My skin peels off like paint

But beneath all of our panting

There’s this noise I cannot shake

The scene before you was unbearable in so many ways that you no longer knew where shock ended and desire began. Rio moved like a merciless goddess, her hips working in a brutal rhythm, while Agatha arched beneath her, screaming for her with raw, unfiltered vulnerability. The soft glow of the lamp cast delicious shadows over their sweaty skin, their entwined bodies forming a spectacle that sent your heart racing and heat pooling between your legs.

You should leave. It was wrong, absurdly wrong, but your legs felt glued to the floor, as if the half-open door was a magnet keeping you there, entranced. Your eyes couldn’t tear away from Rio—the predatory gaze, the intensity with which she claimed Agatha, as if she were possessed.

And then it happened.

"Did you see her?" Her voice cut through the silence like a hot knife, laced with something indecent and possessive.

What?

Can’t you hear that scratching?

There’s something at the door

"I would’ve gone insane if I hadn’t touched her in that moment." Her movements intensified, drawing a sharp gasp from Agatha. "Did you like it? Did you like watching us from up there?"

Agatha opened her eyes, and there was something feral in them—a deep blue gleam overflowing with jealousy and lust in equal measure. She pushed her body against Rio, gasping with unrestrained need.

But the wind has picked us up now

We’re hanging in the air

And as you grip me like an animal

That you’re about to spear

"I almost ended it," Agatha admitted with a rough chuckle, but it was laced with possession. "Watching you touch her… like she was already yours…" Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "I wanted to rip your hand off and show you she’s mine too."

The impact of the words hit you like a punch to the chest. They were talking about you.

Rio's casual touch earlier, that slow slide of fingers to your inner thigh while Agatha spoke to the audience with all the confidence in the world… It hadn’t been casual, it hadn’t been an innocent accident. It was premeditated. And Agatha had seen it all, enjoyed it all.

Be good to me, I whisper

And you say: What?

And I said: Nothing, dear

The shock dissolved quickly, swallowed by something far more visceral. Your breath grew heavy, lungs seeming unable to draw in enough air. Your thoughts spun, frantic and lascivious, as one memory after another exploded in your mind: the heat of Rio’s lingering touches, Agatha’s intense, possessive gaze when you thought you were off their radar.

Desire. It had always been desire.

Can’t you hear it?

It can hear you

It wants me to

Your heart pounded violently in your chest; a dizzying mix of fear and exhilaration consumed you.

And can’t you hear that scratching?

I ask your eyes

"Oh, my love," Rio murmured against Agatha’s lips, teasing. "You loved watching. You wanted to see her completely lose herself, didn’t you?"

Agatha let out a primal sound, her fingers burying into Rio’s hair, forcing her to look directly at her. "I wanted more than that," she purred. "I wanted to destroy her with you... make her understand there’s no way out for us."

And we fall into each other

The scratching grows so loud

Because that unwanted animal

Wants nothing more than to get out

And I scream: Oh, what’s the time, little Wolf?

But you, you’re blind, you bleat, you bear your claws

You took a deep breath, trying to step away from the scene, but your feet wouldn’t obey. The ache between your legs became unbearable, and you hated admitting how much every indecent word from them made your body vibrate.

"She will be ours," Agatha stated, shamelessly, her eyes half-lidded with uncontrolled pleasure.

Rio moaned deeply, her hips moving even more frantically against Agatha’s body. Sweat glistened on her skin, and each thrust seemed to pull new, pleasure-laden sounds from them both.

Rio’s voice emerged, rough, hungry: "What do you want to do to her?" Her teeth grazed Agatha’s pale neck before sinking in just enough to leave a mark. "I need you to tell me…"

And you rip my rib cage open

And devour what’s truly yours

And our screaming joins in unison

I cry out to the lord

Agatha gasped at the question’s impact, her fingers digging into Rio’s shoulders as the sexual tension exploded around them. Her blue eyes, now wild and gleaming, stared at the ceiling as if she were envisioning a scene too forbidden, too intense to be contained in simple words.

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough

To God, I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

"Oh, I want to make her cry. Watch those beautiful eyes looking at me, begging for anything… anything, fuck," Agatha whispered, her voice thick with lust and something dangerously possessive. "I want to see her trembling under my hands… begging for it. To be mine."

Rio let out a deep, guttural moan, her movements growing even more urgent. "You want to break her, don’t you?"

Can’t you hear it?

It can hear you

It wants me to

"And rebuild her the right way. My way," Agatha murmured, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "She deserves to feel everything. The pain. The pleasure. The need to serve."

The tension between them built, almost unbearable, and you couldn’t hold back the trembling sigh that escaped your lips at hearing those words. The sound made Agatha pause for a brief second before she smirked slowly, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she turned her head to Rio.

A soft moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it. Your hand trembled as it slid inside your pajama pants, fingers finding warm, damp skin.

But that second wind is coming, love, it’s coming for all we own

And on the creature scratches, it doesn’t know how to get out (let me out)

And you, you follow philosophies

But me, I laugh, I choke

You tried to be discreet, silent, but your body was on fire, pulsing with a desperate urgency that could no longer be ignored. The moans of the two women in the bedroom only worsened things, each thrust of Rio pulling cries from Agatha that echoed through the house like forbidden music.

Well hello, my hollow Holofernes

I wink but you don’t get the joke

Hold the hand of the God-child, they said

As she falls from the sky

Your fingers moved in slow, needy circles, the soft fabric of your pajama pants brushing against your sensitive skin as you touched yourself. Pleasure radiated through your body, growing more intense by the second, the muscles in your legs already trembling as you lost yourself in the sensation.

You bit your lip hard to muffle a moan, your knees threatening to give out. But none of that mattered. You wanted this. Needed it.

Be good to me, I beg of her

Be good be good be good be good be good be good be good

Agatha’s intense gaze still seemed to burn in your mind, even as she moaned Rio’s name, her nails digging into her wife’s back.

And Rio… oh, Rio seemed to feel everything. Each movement of the strap-on seemed to reflect directly in her body, as if she were completely connected to the pleasure she was giving.

Agatha arched violently, a sharp cry tearing through the air as her orgasm consumed her in almost brutal waves, her muscles clenching around the nothing she so desperately wished to be filled.

Rio kept moving, prolonging every spasm of pleasure, her own body trembling with the sheer intensity of the scene—as if the simple sight of Agatha lost in that state was enough to bring her to the edge.

When she finally slowed, both women lay still for a moment, breathing heavily. The silence that settled over the room was thick, charged with the memory of the wild pleasure that still lingered between them.

The air around you felt too heavy, impossible to breathe, but you kept going. Your fingers moved with more precision, searching for that spot that would send you over the edge. And when you found it, it was as if the ground disappeared beneath your feet.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a hot, overwhelming orgasm tore through your body in waves, leaving you trembling and almost too weak to stand.

When your eyes finally opened, the scene was still before you—Agatha and Rio still trapped in that frantic cycle of pleasure, completely unaware of your presence. And you, leaning against the wall beside the door, your chest rising and falling rapidly, knew that something inside you had changed forever.

And she replies

No, no, not I.

~*~

After this there is no way to turning back.

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