#Agathario

[critter-of-habit]

Agathario actually started the mistletoe tradition 💋

[toodrunktofindaurl]

"Death's child"

twitter | bluesky | insta | 🔞 patre*n

[legacies-safari]

Story time with Lady Death.

[evgar]

inspired by this amazing one-shot that was based on That other one agathario drawing i did

[iamdeltas]

#by the way#i'm still here as well#don't think about#how Rio's always a little surprised when it happens#when Agatha lets her walls fall#how they seek out comfort in each other#how Agatha lets herself want and feel#so much aching vulnerability#the grand truth#but also the lie (via @ennn)

AGATHA HARKNESS and RIO VIDAL Agatha All Along, 1.04 | If I Can't Reach You / Let My Song Teach You

[five-milfs-and-a-twink]

Billy: And then I accidentally called her "mom!" Alice, holding back laughter: Oh no *In another room* Agatha, in tears: And then he called me "mom!" Jennifer: Are you crying out of happiness or disgust? Agatha: YES.

[marril96]

Agathario AU | Rio Vidal AKA Lady Death turns the tables on Detective Agatha Harkness.

[evgar]

read THIS immediately for agathario tooth rotting fluff

[detritusanddross]

The reframing of this moment post finale has still got me in a chokehold.

When we first saw Rio’s reaction in this scene, the resulting meta was glorious and on point; here is a woman who intimately knows the harm done to her former partner by her mother’s cruelty, who can see the instant destabilising effect of Evanora’s words on Agatha and knows it will take a lot of work to undo this most recent emotional harm.

All of this is still true.

But knowing now that Rio was also Nicky’s mother? And that she herself had stood at a crossroads to decide whether or not he would die the moment he left Agatha’s body?

The depth of it all kills me.

Taking the dead from this plane is not just Rio’s job, but the very reason for her existence. When Agatha was in labour, Rio knew Nicky’s time was up and that she had no choice but to do the job she was made for. She appeared before Agatha at the last possible moment, reluctance written in every line of her face and body. Despite not wanting to hurt Agatha—or to take the son they made together away before he could take his first breath—in all her eons I don’t think she had ever once considered the possibility of not doing her job. After all, the river flows in a single direction.

But it is Agatha’s nature to fight inevitability; to bargain and to beg. And Agatha, despite or because of her upbringing amongst such hatred, well, Agatha loves.

And Rio learned to love her back as she has no other being in the history of time. Rio bends the rules to her will like Agatha taught her. All rivers have eddies and she weaves a safe space out of her own love to give their son time.

Agatha is the first person Rio has ever loved and Nicky was quite possibly the first person she ever fought for. And in this scene, Evanora’s ghost is saying she should have destroyed both of them before Rio had a chance to know either? Had Evanora murdered Agatha when she was a baby, Rio would have unknowingly been forced to carry her only chance at happiness into the realms of the dead.

“I ought to have killed you the moment you left my body.” Death would spit at her feet but that would make her think she has power here.

One day that ghost will die and I smile at the thought of what Rio is going to do to her.

In that last gif: Rio’s averted gaze full of so much hurt and that little head shake—the way it looks as if she’s breathing down against the rising bile of what-ifs and maybes—yeah, this right here is what great stories are made of. Layers upon layers of history between characters that we are lucky enough to have a chance to expericence.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank @ngatwa and all the other gifmakers who allow us to continue exploring scenes like this after a show is over. Fandom owes gifmakers everything.

Mom? Why do you hate me still?

[chitrah]

the hottest and sexiest couple in the mcu 💜💚🖤

[aloneandaloe]

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

Rio stretches his face towards Agatha the moment she is closest while walking around her?!

DID RIO WANT THE KISS AT THAT PRECISE INSTANT? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[wlwitch]

this scene is just awesome. even through the turmoil of their whole relationship they clearly love and miss each other a lot. rio's tender touch loosens agatha to lean towards her and they talk a lot through the eyes. the hug was so intimate and charged. agatha was going for the kiss but rio just had to get real with her and bear the bad news. when agatha pulls back and breaks the moment rio can only mourn hurting agatha once again.

AGATHA HARKNESS & RIO VIDAL Agatha All Along, 1.04 If I Can't Reach You / Let My Song Teach You

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 5 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: Things become official with the MILFS but there's an unexpected guest. Back at college, your friends are still trying to set you up with someone which Agatha and Rio will NOT let that slide, so they remind you exactly who you belong to again but Rio's been scheming

-OR-

Your girlfriends take you back to fuck you but somehow it ends with Agatha tied up and Rio getting railed...

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, tiny bit of angst, smut, fluff, possessive Agathario, power bottom Rio, switch reader, implied phone sex, marking, bondage (A recv), strap on (Rio recv), mentions of overstimulation, brief edging, oral (Reader recv)

Words: 5.1k

A/N: I am BACK baby, and what better way than with an update for this fic. I though it was about time we got to fuck Rio :)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Master List

Back Again

You stir faintly, the ache of exhaustion mingling with the cosy warmth of the couch. A shift in the cushions pulls you further from sleep, and you vaguely register the sensation of being lifted. Strong arms cradle you, the familiar scent of Rio’s shampoo grounding you even in your half-asleep haze.

“Shh, baby,” Rio murmurs, her voice a soothing balm. The gentle sway of her steps lulls you closer to rest, though faint snippets of conversation anchor you to the moment.

“They’re out cold,” Rio says softly, her tone carrying a rare mix of amusement and concern.

“I’m texting their parents,” comes Agatha’s voice, punctuated by the soft click of her nails on a screen. “Letting them know they’re staying here.”

The sound of soft sheets and the familiar scent of cedar envelop you as Rio lays you down on the bed, careful and deliberate. You feel the weight of the blanket pulled over you, and then the mattress dips beside you. Rio’s warm arms encircle you, pulling you close, while Agatha presses a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. Between them, you drift back into a deep sleep.

—

You can hear the sound of birds as you blink yourself awake, the warmth of Rio’s body beside you grounding you. Uncertainty knots in your stomach as you fidget with your hands, your mind racing with thoughts you’d been avoiding. What is this relationship you have with Agatha and Rio? Is it just sex? Or is there something deeper?

“Good morning,” Rio’s voice is soft, her head propped on her hand as she lies on her side facing you. Her honeyed gaze watches you with open affection.

You mumble a greeting, rubbing at your face as a familiar knot of unease tightens in your chest. Your hands continue to fidget of their own accord, fingers twisting over each other. Rio notices instantly.

“Hey,” she says softly, her brows knitting together. Her hand finds yours, stilling your nervous movements. “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, unsure of how to articulate the tangled thoughts that kept you tossing and turning in your dreams. Finally, you turn onto your side, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know what this is,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “With you and Agatha, I mean. It’s amazing and I don’t want it to end, but is it just sex? Like it’s obvious you’ve done this before; I just want to be able to set my expectations.”

The words leave you feeling vulnerable, your cheeks warming as you search Rio’s face for a reaction. She blinks, clearly taken aback, but then her expression softens. Her thumb rubs gentle circles over the back of your hand. “Sweetheart,” she starts, her voice thick with affection. “I didn’t realise you were worried about that.”

Before she can say more, a low groan rumbles behind you. Agatha stirs, wrapping an arm around your waist and nuzzling into the crook of your neck “Mornin’,” she murmurs, her voice gravelly and laced with sleep. She presses a soft kiss to your neck, her hold tightening slightly. “What are we talking about?”

Rio glances at you, silently asking for permission to explain. When you nod, she tells Agatha about your concerns. Agatha hums thoughtfully, her lips brushing your skin as she speaks. “Well, yes, we’ve had people join us in the bedroom before,” she begins, her voice steady. “But never someone who’s become part of our lives the way you have.”

Rio nods in agreement, her hand resting lightly on your hip. “We’ve been talking about this ourselves, you know,” she admits. “About how much we like you, how much we love having you around. You’re not just a fling, cariño.”

Agatha tilts your face to meet her gaze, her eyes warm and sincere. “We like you, baby. A lot,” she says, her lips quirking into a small smile. “So, what do you say? Would you want to start dating us? Properly? ”

For a moment, all you can do is stare, their words washing over you like a warm tide. Your chest tightens, but it’s not fear—it’s overwhelming relief. You nod, your voice shaky but resolute. “Yes. I’d like that.” They both smile, their joy evident as they pull you into a tight embrace.

—

The three of you make your way downstairs for breakfast, the warm morning light filling the kitchen. Agatha and Rio are particularly handsy, their touches more purposeful now, as if relishing the newfound claim they have on you since officially calling you theirs. They brush against you, steal kisses, and touch your waist or hand at every opportunity. The domesticity of it all feels surreal but wonderful.

It perfect. Almost too perfect.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Ma,” a voice calls from the hallway, startling you. You step away from Rio’s touch instinctively, a flush creeping up your neck as a young man with dark hair and a broad smile steps into the kitchen.

Nicholas pauses, his gaze darting between you and his mothers. “Uh, hi,” he says, his brow raising slightly. “Didn’t know you had company.”

Agatha clears her throat, stepping forward smoothly. “Y/N, this is our son, Nicholas,” she says. “Nicky, this is Y/N; your mom’s helping them with their Spanish.”

Your heart stutters, but you manage a polite smile. “Hi,” you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Nicholas grins, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says easily. “Hope they’re not giving you too hard a time; I remember how strict they were with me.”

You laugh nervously, shaking your head to rid yourself of memories from last night. The conversation shifts and though you find yourself easing into the flow, you can’t ignore the way your chest tightens with the realisation that you might be intruding on their family time.

When breakfast wraps up, you use the opportunity to excuse yourself. “I should probably get back to my parents’ place,” you say, standing. Agatha and Rio share a look but nod in understanding, both walking you to the door to say goodbye. Out of view of Nicholas, they each press a lingering kiss to your cheek before you leave.

—

The weeks that follow are a whirlwind of classes, assignments, and finals, but Agatha and Rio are never far from your mind—or your phone, which buzzes constantly with texts from them. They visit when they can, their presence a soothing balm to the ache of missing them. On the nights they can’t, they always call, their voices filling the empty spaces of your apartment.

One evening, you’re sprawled on your bed during a video call. Agatha’s voice is low and teasing, her words dipping into a register that makes your breath hitch and sends heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Careful with that blush, sweetheart,” she purrs, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s too easy to tell what I’m doing to you.”

Rio, ever playful, leans into frame, her expression positively wicked. “You’re squirming. I can see it. Wanna tell us how much you miss us, cariño?”

Their voices twine together, their suggestive remarks growing more insistent, coaxing soft whimpers from you. The call becomes a delicious blur of teasing, their words a heady mix of affection and temptation, leaving you flushed and aching for more by the time the night ends.

—

The next day, your phone buzzes with a series of texts from your friends.

Kate: Hey! You coming out with us tonight? We’re celebrating the end of finals!

Peter: We’ve barely seen you lately. Come on, you need to unwind.

You hesitate, glancing at your phone with a pang of guilt. They’re right; you’ve spent every spare moment with Agatha and Rio or on the phone with them, wrapped up in the intoxicating rhythm of their affection.

You: Fine, I’ll come. But only if it’s just a casual hangout. No matchmaking schemes.

Their replies are immediate.

Peter: Casual, I swear. Just us. Drinks and good company.

Kate: Yeah, totally chill. No schemes… maybe just a little chance to meet someone new?

You groan at the last message, already regretting your decision.

You: Seriously. No setups.

Peter: Relax! We just think it’s time you got back out there. When was your last date? Oh, right—that dickhead at the bar.

Kate: Exactly. You’ve been single forever, and we’re just saying...

They don’t know about Agatha and Rio and you dodge the topic with practiced ease.

You: I’ll come, but I mean it: Just. Hanging. Out.

Kate: Okay, okay! Pinky promise.

You shake your head, sighing as you set your phone down. It feels a little disingenuous to let them think you’re single, but explaining your situation—or even trying to—feels impossible. Besides, the thought of a casual night with friends doesn’t seem so bad... as long as they stick to their promise.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 18:49

You: Going out with my friends tonight :)

Agatha: Have fun, gorgeous. And don’t let anyone think they have a chance.

Rio: Remember: ours and ours alone. 😘

Their words make your chest warm with affection, and their possessiveness is thrilling in a way you can’t quite articulate.

—

When you arrive at the bar, the atmosphere is lively, music pulsing through the air. Your friends greet you with excited hugs and chatter.

They guide you to a table, where you’re introduced to someone new—a friend of a friend—and your group makes sure you’re seated next to them. As the night progresses and the drinks flow, your friends keep glancing at you expectantly, their unsubtle hints making it clear they’re hoping for sparks to fly. 

You deflect every attempt at their flirting, dodging their questions with vague answers, your heart too full of Agatha and Rio to even entertain the idea of anyone else.

Excusing yourself to the restroom, you pull out your phone and snap a quick picture. Your hand rests suggestively at the base of your neck, the angle teasing but not too revealing.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 20:04

You: *click to open image*

You: hey ;)

Rio: I think my hand would make a prettier necklace 👀👀

Agatha: Hello sweetheart, having a good night?

You: No :(

You: My friends are trying to set me up again 🙄

Agatha: Address. Now.

Rio: Behave yourself

You: Okay Daddy ;)

Their messages make you smile, a surge of comfort and amusement replacing the frustration. You return to your friends and the not-date, time slipping by in a blur of small talk and laughter.

Your head feels a bit fuzzy from the alcohol so when your phone buzzes, you answer it without checking who was calling.

“Hello?”

Agatha’s voice is sharp and commanding, cutting through the din. “Come outside, pet.”

The line goes dead, and your heart stutters as you make your way to the front of the bar.

The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you step out of the bar, your eyes immediately catching sight of Agatha and Rio leaning casually against their sleek black car. The sight is magnetic—Agatha’s sharp features softened by the glow of the streetlights, Rio’s gaze sweeping over you with that familiar, knowing heat.

Agatha straightens, beckoning you closer with a crook of her finger. Your legs carry you forward almost instinctively, your heart hammering in your chest. The moment you’re within reach, her hand snakes to the back of your head, fingers tangling tightly in your hair. She pulls you forward, crashing her lips against yours in a possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. Her grip tightens slightly, a subtle reminder of her dominance, and you whimper into her mouth, too stunned to resist.

She pulls back only slightly, her lips brushing yours as she murmurs, “We told you to behave.”

Before you can form a reply, she spins you around with practiced ease, your back pressed firmly to the car. Her lips claim yours again, harder this time, her tongue sweeping past your parted lips with an intensity that leaves your knees weak. Her thigh presses between your legs, eliciting a desperate moan that you barely manage to stifle.

Agatha chuckles darkly, her mouth trailing down to your neck. She lingers there, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin before sinking in just enough to leave a mark—a clear, unmistakable declaration of ownership. Your world narrows to the sensation of her lips, her tongue, and the faint sting of her teeth. Somewhere in the haze, you hear Rio’s voice, her tone low and amused.

“We’re going to have to keep a closer eye on you,” Rio says, though her words barely register in your muddled mind.

When Agatha finally pulls back, she smooths her hands over your arms, steadying you as she takes in the flushed, dazed expression on your face. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction. “I’ll see you later,” she says, her voice soft but commanding. Without another word, she climbs into the car and starts the engine.

You turn to Rio, expecting her to follow, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to Agatha’s lips through the open window. The kiss is slow and intimate, leaving no doubt about their connection. When Agatha finally drives off, Rio turns back to you with a knowing smile.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she says, taking your hand and leading you back into the bar.

The atmosphere feels almost surreal as Rio adds a chair to your table, effortlessly inserting herself into the group. Your friends are gawking, their eyes darting between you and Rio with barely concealed curiosity—and amusement.

“Hi, I’m Rio,” she introduces herself, her tone casual yet self-assured. She slides into the seat between you and the would-be date, her presence commanding as she rests her hand on your shoulder. “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”

Your friends exchange glances, their smirks widening. They know. They’ve always known about your soft spot for older women, and Rio’s arrival explains why you’ve been rejecting all of their attempts to set you up.

Rio’s touch is constant—her fingers brushing against the back of your neck, her hand settling on your thigh. The warmth of her palm seeps through the fabric of your pants, sending a steady pulse of heat coursing through you. She trails her hand higher, her grip firm but teasing, and when she squeezes the sensitive flesh at the apex of your thighs, your breath hitches audibly.

“You okay?” Kate asks, her tone laced with mischief.

You try to answer, but the words come out in a stuttering mess, your thoughts scrambled by Rio’s touch. Her lips twitch with amusement, her fingers giving one last squeeze before she straightens, glancing at her phone as it buzzes.

“Well,” Rio says, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “I think it’s time we were off.” She stands, extending a hand to you with an easy smile.

Your friends exchange knowing looks as Rio says her goodbyes, her tone warm but unmistakably firm when she glares briefly at your would-be date before leading you out. The Uber is already waiting outside, and the moment the door shuts behind you, Rio’s hands are on you.

She cups your face, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s all heat and urgency. Her hands roam over your body, pulling you impossibly close as the car speeds away. By the time it stops outside a hotel, your skin is flushed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You realise it’s the same hotel as last time, and as Rio comes to a stop and knocks on a door, you see it’s even the same room. Agatha opens the door, clad in the same purple lace lingerie that had stolen your breath the first night you were together, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” she purrs, stepping aside to let you in.

Rio’s hand settles on your lower back, guiding you into the room. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and you barely have time to process the warm light and familiar scent of the suite before Agatha steps closer, her sharp eyes raking over your body as she trails her fingers along your jaw. Her lips crash against yours, rough and unyielding, and you can feel the smirk she wears as you melt into her touch. Rio’s hands slip around your waist from behind, her warmth grounding you even as your knees threaten to give out, pulling your pants and underwear down, exposing the small wet patch on the crotch of the fabric.

“Look at you,” Agatha murmurs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “So eager for us.”

Before you can respond, Agatha grips your chin, tilting your head to expose your neck. Her teeth graze your skin, and then she bites—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave another deep, blooming mark. You gasp, the sting mingling with the heat pooling low in your belly.

Rio’s hands are no less demanding, sliding beneath your shirt to trace the curve of your waist. “Ours,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. Her nails scratch lightly against your skin as she pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you exposed to their hungry gazes.

The two of them manoeuvre you effortlessly toward the bed, their touches a coordinated symphony of dominance and affection. Agatha’s lips find yours again as she pushes you down onto the soft mattress, her weight pinning you in place. Rio climbs onto the bed beside you, her hands stroking over your thighs, her fingers curling possessively into your skin.

“You’re going to let us make you ours all over again,” Agatha whispers, her voice a low promise that sends shivers down your spine.

Agatha’s mouth trails lower, her teeth and tongue marking a path down your collarbone and chest. Meanwhile, Rio’s lips find the sensitive skin behind your ear, her hands guiding your thighs apart as she peppers kisses along your jaw. Their movements are synchronised and calculated, making you helpless against the overwhelming tide of pleasure they stir within you.

The room fills with the sound of heavy breaths and muffled gasps as they leave no inch of you untouched, no patch of skin unclaimed. Agatha’s marks bloom like flowers across your body—your neck, your shoulders, the swell of your hips—while Rio’s touch is a steady, grounding presence that leaves you trembling beneath them.

Agatha’s lips never leave yours as she manoeuvres you with ease, her strength evident as she pulls you on top of her. You straddle her, hands planted on either side of her head, and the kiss deepens. Her nails rake along your back, leaving a burning trail that only spurs your arousal further. You’re so caught up in the taste of her and the heat of her skin beneath yours that you barely register Rio’s movements around the bed.

The sound of soft rope sliding against the bedframe should catch your attention, but Agatha’s demanding kisses and the press of her body beneath yours make it impossible to focus on anything else. Rio, ever the planner, works quickly and quietly. By the time she whispers in your ear, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine, the trap is nearly set.

“Pin her arms above her head, darling,” Rio whispers, her voice a mix of command and playfulness.

Without hesitation, you do as you’re told, grabbing Agatha’s wrists and stretching her arms over her head. Agatha lets out a low, approving growl. Her darkened gaze flickers to you with a teasing smirk, but before she can retake control, Rio moves in.

In a swift, practiced motion, Rio ties Agatha’s wrists to the bedposts. It takes Agatha a moment to realise what’s happening, her smirk faltering as she tests the bonds. “Really, Rio?” she drawls, though her eyes glint with intrigue rather than annoyance.

“Really,” Rio replies smoothly, a wicked grin curling her lips as she steps back to admire her handiwork. Agatha’s ankles are already tied, spread wide, and leaving her entirely open. “You made me watch and wait, my love; now it’s your turn.”

Rio turns her attention back to you, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and desire. “Off,” she instructs gently, her hands guiding you away.

You reluctantly climb off Agatha, her gaze never leaving yours, though it’s now tinged with a mix of curiosity and challenge. She looks breathtaking, her hair splayed out on the pillows, her body bound and vulnerable yet still exuding power.

Rio’s hands move to her own clothes, slipping her shirt over her head and shimming out of her pants with practiced ease. Beneath, she wears an emerald-green set of lingerie, the delicate lace hugging her curves and highlighting the strength in her frame. The sight leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but stare as Rio tosses her clothes aside with deliberate nonchalance.

“I’ve been thinking,” Rio says, her voice soft but firm as she steps closer to you. “You’ve not actually had the chance to fuck one of us since you failed to do what you were told.”

You blink, caught off guard by Rio’s declaration, your cheeks heating as you stammer out an incoherent response. “Uh… yeah, I guess,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rio chuckles, the sound low and rich as she closes the distance between you, handing you a harness. “That’s going to change now,” she murmurs, her dark eyes locking onto yours. The weight of the harness in your hands makes your heart race and your mind flashes back to the last time you and Rio indulged in each other without Agatha’s participation in this very room—and the punishment that followed.

You glance nervously toward Agatha, who raises a single, unimpressed brow at your hesitation. Sensing your uncertainty, Rio leans in, her breath warm against your ear. “Relax, darling,” she murmurs, her tone soft but firm. “She’ll never admit it, but she likes this.”

Agatha scoffs from her place on the bed, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Don’t push your luck,” she drawls, though there’s no real heat in her voice. Her eyes gleam with intrigue, even as she pretends disinterest.

Rio doesn’t miss a beat. Removing her lace panties, she climbs onto the bed, positioning herself with her back resting against Agatha’s restrained body, her movements smooth and deliberate. Agatha lets out a soft whine at the pressure, but her gaze stays fixed on you, a mix of challenge and anticipation in her expression.

Your fingers fumble with the harness as you step into it, the straps snug against your hips as you secure it. That’s when you notice, or rather feel, the grinding pad built into the design, its texture brushing against you with tantalising promise. You shiver at the sensation—a rush of heat pooling between your thighs as you adjust the fit. The thought of what’s to come sends a pulse of arousal through you, and you can’t help but bite your lip, your eyes darting between Rio and Agatha.

“Ready?” Rio asks, her voice soft but commanding as she watches you with a knowing smile.

Your hands shake slightly as you reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, slicking up the harness with nervous precision. Rio watches you intently, her head tilted back against Agatha’s torso, an expectant smirk playing on her lips. Once you’re ready, you climb onto the bed and position yourself over her, your knees on either side of her thighs. The heat between the three of you is palpable, tension thrumming in the air as you align yourself and sink down onto her.

You start slow and tentative, testing the rhythm. The grinding pad against you is more distracting than you anticipated, the friction sparking waves of pleasure with each motion. Rio exhales a soft, contented sigh, her hands settling on your hips to guide you. But it doesn’t take long for the look on her face—a mix of delight and impatience—to spur you into moving faster.

The sounds Rio makes are intoxicating: soft moans and deep, husky gasps that make your skin tingle. “Harder,” she commands, her voice rough with need. Her nails dig into your hips, urging you to obey, and you do, thrusting harder and faster. The slick grind of the harness against you and the sight of Rio’s pleasure-blissed expression send your pulse racing.

You don’t know why you do it—maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s the intoxicating chemistry between you—but your hand rises, and you press two fingers against Rio’s lips. Her gaze snaps to yours, sharp and electric, and without hesitation, she takes them into her mouth. The heat of her tongue swirls around your fingertips, and you swear you feel your stomach drop with the intensity of your arousal.

Behind Rio, Agatha lets out a low breathless “Oh, fuck,” her voice ragged. You glance over Rio’s shoulder to see Agatha’s hips bucking desperately against Rio’s back, her restraint futile against her own need. The sight and sound of her breaking composure sends a jolt through Rio, her expression twisting into something feral, manic even. Her nails grip you tighter, and her voice shatters into a desperate moan as her body tenses and she comes undone beneath you.

The clenching of the harness and the relentless friction push you over the edge moments later. You cry out, collapsing against Rio’s chest as you ride out the waves together, your breathing ragged and uneven. Her arms wrap around you, holding you close as you both come down from the high.

It’s only then you notice the faint shuffle of movement. You lift your head to find Agatha free of the ropes, her arms and legs untied. Her lips are curled into a sly smile, and her gaze soft with amusement and hunger as she moves toward you. Before you can speak, she places her hands on your hips and gently manoeuvres you onto your back.

“You two are quite the pair,” Agatha murmurs, her tone carrying equal parts fondness and teasing as she takes off the harness and presses a soft kiss to your hip. She rests her head there, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thighs. “But I think it’s my turn now.”

You glance down at Agatha, her head resting on your hip as her fingers idly trace patterns across your thighs. “How did you…?” you ask softly, your voice still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax.

Agatha lifts her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Being able to get out of restraints is one of my boundaries,” she explains, her voice smooth and steady. “I’ve never been fully comfortable with giving up all control. It’s just how I am.”

You nod, her words sinking in as you process the vulnerability she’s just shared. “I understand,” you reply sincerely, your gaze locking with hers. The trust between you feels solidified in this moment, a quiet bond of mutual respect and understanding.

Before you can say more, Rio’s presence shifts beside you. Her hands cup your face, tilting your head so her lips can meet yours. The kiss is deep and languid, her tongue teasing yours in a way that pulls you further into the haze of pleasure still clinging to your body. Her warmth anchors you, a grounding presence as your senses start to spiral again.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s fingers trail down your thighs, spreading you open with deliberate care. She presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, working her way closer to your still-sensitive core. “Just cleaning you up,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin. But when her tongue flicks out to tease your bundle of nerves, it’s clear her intentions are far from innocent.

A jolt of pleasure shoots through you, and you gasp against Rio’s lips, your hands instinctively clutching at her shoulders. Agatha takes her time, her tongue slow and precise as it circles your sensitive nub. The overstimulation is almost too much, your body trembling under her ministrations, but she knows exactly when to ease up and how to pull you back from the edge only to push you closer again.

Rio’s hands move to your waist, holding you steady as your hips start to buck against Agatha’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this,” Rio whispers against your lips, her tone filled with awe and hunger. Her words make your chest tighten, and you feel yourself unravelling again.

Agatha’s tongue works you relentlessly, her rhythm increasing as she senses how close you are. When she sucks gently on your clit, the tension inside you snaps, and you cry out, your body arching off the bed as the climax crashes over you. Waves of pleasure ripple through you, leaving you shaking and gasping for air.

As the intensity ebbs, Agatha places one last kiss on your trembling thighs before resting her head against your hip again, her fingers stroking your skin soothingly. Rio lies beside you, her hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach as she watches you with a tender smile.

“You’re amazing,” Rio murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Agatha hums her agreement, but instead of her usual sharp quip or teasing remark, she stays quiet, her head resting on your hip and her fingers trailing softly over your skin. You glance down at her, noting the slightly dreamy look in her eyes and the way her shoulders seem to relax completely for the first time all night.

Rio notices too. Shifting her focus, she slides closer to Agatha, her hand gently brushing back a stray strand of hair from her face. “You okay, love?” she asks softly, her voice filled with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. Agatha lets out a contented hum, leaning into Rio’s touch without hesitation.

“More than okay,” Agatha murmurs, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Rio smiles, her fingers tracing over Agatha’s cheek before pressing a kiss to her forehead. The sight tugs at something deep inside you, the intimacy between them wrapping you in its warmth.

As the moments stretch on, Rio encourages Agatha to sit up, her hands steadying her as she guides her toward the pillows. “Come here,” Rio whispers, wrapping her arms around Agatha and pulling her close. You watch as Agatha melts into Rio’s embrace, her sharp edges softened as she nestles against her chest.

You shift closer, draping an arm over both of them, your hand finding Agatha’s and lacing your fingers together. The three of you lie there in a tangle of limbs, the room quiet save for the steady rhythm of your breathing and the occasional murmur of sweet reassurances from Rio. For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s nothing to do but bask in each other’s presence, your bodies and hearts entwined in a shared sense of contentment.

-----

I am so sorry for going MIA for a bit there but hopefully this chapter makes up for it my darlings <3 the ending was inspired by Kathryn's iheart interview where she said she thinks Agatha would just want to be babied sometimes

Requests are back open now that I can actually write again :D

and also just my asks in general, I get bored and want to talk to y'all 👀

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @beezlebee16 @kiaralee25 @4theluvofsapphos @lez-zuha @jujuu23 @gaylorvader

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Agatha at school with Nicky waiting to go in

Some woman: Oh he’s so cute

Agatha: Thanks he definitely got some of his looks from me

Woman: And obviously some from his dad

Agatha: His what?

Woman: His dad? I assume you two are together by your wedding ring?

Agatha: Oh god no! I would never marry a man, I have a wonderful (if crazy) wife, the two of us are Nicky’s parents

Woman: Oh that’s wonderful! Using a donor then

Agatha leaning down to Nicky: Sweetheart why don’t you go and find your friends okay? I’ll take you inside in a minute *Nicky agrees and runs off*

Agatha: Okay listen you seem slightly less annoying than the other women so I won’t shout at you but my wife, Rio is the “dad” in this situation, she got me pregnant and there was absolutely no man involved, just some lingerie, a strap on and a knife

Woman:…a knife?

Agatha: Anyway hon it was lovely to meet you! *walks away to her arriving wife*

Rio: What did you say to that poor woman?

Agatha: She accused me of sleeping with a man to have Nicky, I had to set her straight, unlike me

Rio sighing: Baby you know the principal said you’ve gotta stop telling the parents about how we had Nicky, they’re very progressive but even the school has its limits

Agatha: I’ll stop when these people stop assuming the worst of me

Rio: it’s a good thing I love you so much

Agatha: I’m the only one you’ve ever loved

Rio: Don’t I know it