#agatha harnkess smut

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 9

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + MAMA KINK

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

Breakfast, or rather, lunch at this hour, is heavy. The tension can be felt in the air, tasted, even, with how thick it is in the air. It’s choking you, forcing you to clear your throat every now and then to fill the silence. Agatha and Rio seem comfortable enough, humming to themselves as they butter their bread and swirl it in soup. Rio even reaches over to you with the end of her bread dripping into her open hand, and you open wide and bite, giving a shy smile of gratitude.

It’s awkward, or maybe it’s just you being awkward, not knowing how to act around them after the night – and morning – you just had together. How can they act so normal after that? How can they sit there humming and grinning at each other as if you haven’t invaded their relationship? Why don’t they hate you?

“Little dove, your thoughts are far too loud,” Agatha breaks the silence with a sigh, pairing it with a soft smile to you. Her eyes are glowing after the sleep she had, the desire you’ve been seeing in them sated now. Is that all it was? All you are? An itch that needed to be scratched and now they sit together, exchanging light and tender touches, their eyes communicated with one another while you sit as stiff as a board.

Rio groans, annoyed at your shyness and apparent awkwardness. “Were we not clear enough?” she asks, chugging down her cup of water.

“I just–” you start, hesitating, voice so hoarse from your silence that you need to clear your throat as a blush taints your cheeks, “I don’t understand what this means…”

Rio sighs, turning to talk to Agatha in a whisper. “Did she not read your book?”

Your brows scrunch together in confusion. Her book? Did she mean the history book Agatha wrote on witches?

“Apparently not all of it,” Agatha says, sending a playful glare your way. You turn away at being caught listening in on their quiet conversation, your blush even deeper now, trailing down your neck. They both follow it with their eyes, already hungry for more as they reach your free breasts covered by a thin white gown.

Rio suddenly grunts, snapping her head up as black colours the veins in her neck. You immediately get up, concern written all over your face. Agatha beats you to it with a hand to Rio’s cheeks, soothing her with a hum and understanding eyes.

“It has been too long,” Rio says, her voice dark and distorted. Begrudgingly, she forces herself to stand up, “I have to go to work. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” she finally meets your eyes, stepping towards you; her hand reaches up, fingertips gently stroking your jaw, “But I will be back. I promise.”

Leaning your cheek into her grounding touch, a soft sigh escapes your lips to hers as she presses closer, leaving a tender but firm lingering kiss on your lips. When your eyes finally flutter open, you see she’s doing the same to Agatha, the two of them holding each other in a passionate embrace as they say goodbye.

A few moments later, Rio’s standing on the porch dressed in a flowy, forest green gown with intricate patterns along the hood. She turns once, giving the two of you a kiss from her hand before disappearing in a poof of green smoke. If anything, you’re even more confused than you were earlier. What was that black in her veins? Where did Rio have to go? Why couldn’t you sense what type of Magick that was?

Agatha can see the questions running through your mind and pulls you into her arms, running her fingers through your hair. “All will be answered, little dove. Why don’t we head down to my study?”

It’s less messy this time round when you hesitantly walk into her study. Less being the key word here; the shelves are still overflowing with stacks on the ground, but at least it’s organised now. The first case is filled with spellbooks, the second history and social commentary, and the third literature. Agatha fusses at her desk for a moment while you stroll carefully, brushing the tips of your fingers along the broken leather spines of her books.

“What did you read the last time you were here?” Agatha asks, taking a seat in the large armchair by the equally large plant Rio’s likely put here.

“Uh, I couldn’t really understand most of the spellbooks I picked up, so I…” you hesitate, cheeks tinted pink now that you remember the last thing you read here. It was sexual by nature, a chapter on the impact of sharing pleasure within the witch community.

Agatha lifts a teasing brow. “You…?” she trails on, urging you to finish your thought. You refuse to, remaining stubborn as your teeth chew at your bottom lip. Instead, you march over to the bookcase and scan until you find the book you were reading. Agatha simply waits patiently until you walk towards her and timidly place the book in her hands.

“This one,” you murmur, to which Agatha snorts and shakes her head, glancing down to see which book it is. 

A knowing expression takes over Agatha’s face, her brows relaxing and, lips curling into a soft smile. “Did you read it all?” Agatha asks, you shake your head ‘no’, “Would you like to go over it together?” 

Agatha gives you no room to answer, instead tapping on her lap for you to take a seat. Shifting uncomfortably as you step side to side, your heart thuds so incredibly hard in your chest you fear it may fall out and land all bloody over Agatha’s poor lap.

“Y/N,” Agatha says sternly, lifting a brow that screams authority. With a gulp, you turn and slowly take a seat on her knee, barely putting any pressure. The witch below you sighs heavily, wrapping her arms around your waist to pull you closer and adjust you until the two of you are comfortable enough.

For a moment, your mind flickers back to Rio wondering if this is something she would approve of, or whether she would be upset at you and Agatha for engaging in such behaviour without her. But before you can think about that in any more depth, Agatha opens the book up straight to the chapter about her life.

“Did you read this one?” she asks softly, her breath warm against your ear. You gulp again and shake your head ‘no’, “Why not?” Agatha’s tone is delicate, curious, but not angry. It feels safe enough for you to answer, to be vulnerable without fear of rejection.

“I–I wanted to–I, well, I thought it would be wrong to read such intimate details about your life. Not without your permission.”

Agatha hums. “Well, I did give you permission to read whatever you would like to from my study, did I not?” Agatha reasons but you shake your head again, brows knitted together.

“No, it’s wrong to learn about you from a book. I want to learn about you from you.”

Agatha stays silent and you immediately think you have said the wrong thing. But she pulls you closer, burrowing her nose into the back of your neck to leave a gentle kiss against your skin. “You really are a treasure, little dove.”

You shift, blushing all over at the attention. “I’m not, not really.”

Agatha laughs under her breath, nipping at your skin in warning. “Did I not ask you to stop that?” she changes the topic back, “Now, what would you like to know?”

Suddenly, you’re stuck. Every question you had thought of has disappeared out of your mind. You end up settling on, “Uh, whatever you feel comfortable telling me?” 

Closing the book with a sigh, Agatha sets it on the table to the side of the chair, leaning back to get comfortable once she’s done. You turn over your shoulder to sneak a glance at her but see her staring right at you with a soft expression that twists your insides. You’ve never felt this comfortable with someone; it’s catching you off guard and you’re not entirely sure how to cope with the way you’re feeling. All of it ends up being channelled into awkwardness and you’re terrified it’s going to make Agatha think you don’t want this, but you do. God, you do, so badly you think you’ve never wanted anything more.

“I was born in Salem, to a coven and a mother that did not…want me.”

Snapping your head back with a look of shock, but also understanding, you catch the vulnerability flashing in her eyes. “Your father?”

Agatha snickers at that. “Witches have never needed men,” she answers humouredly before carrying on, “My mother was cruel because my powers were different. I can siphon it from others, and as a child figuring this out came with…consequences.”

You can already decipher what she meant by that as her eyes darken, staring off over your shoulder. “That must have been difficult.”

Agatha breaks out of her daydream to look at you with furrowed brows. “No, my powers are fairly easy to navigate, I just didn’t understand what was happening.”

With a subtle, nervous lip bite, you raise a hand and gently hold her warm cheek. “I mean having no one to guide you and tell you it’s okay.”

A surprising but happy warmth takes over her eyes as she gazes into yours, softly leaning her face into your gentle hand. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout, knowing exactly how it feels to be isolated, “It’s not easy, being alone. And to pair that with cruelty from your own blood? God, no child should ever have to go through that. Especially someone as…”

“As?” Agatha urges on, a hint of desperation in her tone as she waits to hear what you truly think of her.

“Especially someone with a heart as gentle as yours,” you whisper, eyes remaining tender.

Agatha’s lips part for a moment, not expecting you or anyone to see her that way, see past the protective walls she has carefully put up. “That’s–” she starts, but she’s unable to finish her sentence, choking on her words. Wordlessly, she decides to show you how you’ve made her feel by leaning forward until her lips brush yours, as gentle as ever.

Hitching your breath, you lean to reciprocate, sighing into her mouth as you suck on her bottom lip gently, fuelled by the soft whine she lets out. Her hands grip at your waist to turn you until you’re straddling her, gently rolling your hips as your tongue confidently swipes her lower lip. But the moment she pulls back to part them and let you in, you suddenly pull back, remembering Rio.

“Oh, God, this is wrong, I’m so sorry! What’s Rio going to think? This is beyond disrespect–”

Agatha growls, rolling her eyes at you before shushing you with another kiss. “Rio can have you later,” she says simply, possessively, wrapping her arms around you until you’re flush to her and unable to say no again. You can’t, you won’t, not when she’s kissing you with such fire, hands roaming, groping, memorising the way your body feels in her palms.

The anxious thoughts running through your head as gone as quickly as they appeared, losing yourself in her touch, her tongue, those delicate but strong hands, gentle but moving with intent. They know what they want; Agatha knows what she wants, her fingers already playing a soft tune along your spine until she reaches the base. They grip, squeeze, play with your ass forcing you to grind faster against her. 

You’re embarrassingly wet, so soaked you’re sure she can somehow feel it already, sense it, even smell it if she just leans her head down a little. She does, pulling away from your eager, pouty lips to kiss at your neck, already marked bright with her lips. She smirks at the marks, at you, as if you are her canvas and she’s prideful of her work of art.

Every kiss here is softer than it was the night before, delicate little pecks over the bruised skin as if in soft apology, or affection, or everything. God, she’s everything, doing everything, making you feel everything. She’s all you want now, you think, whimpering softly with each kiss to your skin. It’s as if your sounds fuel her, give her power to continue, to keep taking, giving, taking, giving…

“Agatha…” you moan her name sensually, right into her ear in a soft sigh, breath hot against her. She can’t help but moan back at the sound, fingers tightening their grip, spreading you obscenely as you groan again, “Fuck, please.”

She makes you beg no more, wanting you just as desperately as you want her. There’s no push, only pull for the next few seconds as she drags your gown high over your thighs, gasping when her slithering hand finds your naked cunt within seconds. 

“Nude? My, my, you really are naughty, aren’t you, sweetheart?” she smirks deliciously, fingers pressing into your naked heat as wicked as the expression taking over her face. The moan that slips out is involuntary, but she soaks it in and it fuels her confidence further, “You’re so wet already, it’s almost pathetic.”

She practically spits the word out; it’s twinged with darkness, laced with a hidden shot of venom, and, fuck, it’s addictive. You didn’t think your body would react this way but it does, rolling, writhing, whining for more. It is pathetic, and you will happily be so for her.

Agatha’s pleased with your reaction, growling into your neck and sinking her teeth into your skin the same moment she sinks two fingers into your pulsing walls. Back arching into her, you gasp and moan, immediately bouncing your hips up and down to start a rhythm.

“So beautiful,” Agatha whispers, more to herself than to you as she sighs, pants against the skin of your neck. She lets you control the rhythm, lets you bounce, roll, grind your hips however you please, “Taking me so well, little dove.”

Keening at her praises, your heart swells and thuds in your chest. Your head falls down onto her shoulder, burying deep into her, inhaling as much of her lavender and honey scent as you can. Agatha allows a moment or two of indulgence just because of how whiney you sound as you leak into her palm, grinding slowly to catch her wrist against your clit. But eventually she grips your hair with her free hand and pulls you back.

“Eyes on me, sweetling,” Agatha demands, almost hissing in her commanding tone.

She works you up with her fingers, curling them expertly with each thrust as you come down, brushing her thumb over your clit every now and then just to keep you on that edge, all while keeping those lust-filled dark eyes locked to yours. This is power for her, you realise, giving you pleasure, but taking away your control of it. It’s the way she plays you, how she slows her fingers down and scissors them to tease, to feel every inch of your tight, wet heat, how she leans in to lick at your bottom lip, to peck your mouth but deny you when you lean in for more. The look in her eyes is prideful, high on power, so cruel but somehow filled with adoration; it drives you to insanity. 

“Fuck, please, I cannot take it any longer,” you burst out, moaning, groaning, fingers digging into her shoulders. By now, your gown is wet with sweat, nipples peaking against the thin material. Agatha simply smirks, eyes flashing with pleasure at your desperation. She continues to ignore your words, keeping her pace deliberately slow and teasing, and then leans down to lay her tongue flat through your gown right against your nipple, “Ah, please, Agatha, please, I need to–” you choke on your words, unable to finish as you break out into a series of whiney moans as she sucks your bud into her hungry mouth.

“You need?” Agatha urges you to finish, going right back to her attack on your chest. You can feel her teeth through your gown, sharp and dangerously teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure as they bite down.

Your mind is empty at this point, filled with nothing but want as you begin to bounce your hips again to chase your high, but Agatha’s free hand is at the curve of your hip quickly, stopping you from moving. You’re practically on the verge of tears now, pouting deeply as you look down at her; she has not an ounce of sympathy as she meets your gaze, eyes glimmering with playfulness as her mouth continues sucking your nipple, tongue circling it before flicking over it again and again.

A broken moan escapes as a tear falls, your cunt aching with the need for release. “I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry,” you begin crying out, thinking this must be some sort of punishment, “Mama, please, I need you so bad–”

“Say that again.”

Your head snaps back down at the hoarseness in her voice, the shakiness in her words. The hand on your hips creeps up until it’s at your jaw, tightening and pulling you closer to her lips. You’re mere inches away, panting into each other’s parted lips.

“I need you, Mama,” you whisper, whimper, meeting her halfway as your lips crash together in a wet clash of teeth and tongue. You pull back, lips stringing with hers, “I need you to make me come, Mama,” you whisper again, swallowing her whimpers with another kiss, “I need your fingers,” you add, licking into her mouth, “Your hands,” she squeezes your hips, “Your tongue,” Agatha groans again, adjusting so her hand is flat. It’s painful this way, you know, but for you it feels so fucking good, her fingers pushing in deeper than before, “Yes, just like that, please, fuck, don’t stop.”

Agatha couldn’t stop now even if she wanted to, too overtaken with lust for you. Her pace is angry, desperate, primal as she pushes her hand up against your bouncing movements; it’s hard, her palm slapping lewdly against your bare, glistening lips. The sound drives you mad, chest and cheek flushing pink with a strange mix of humiliation and excitement.

“Are you mine?” Agatha asks, pants, “Really?” 

You groan, head thrown back, lost in pleasure. Your hands come down to squeeze at your chest, both you and Agatha groaning at that for very different reasons. “Yes,” you hiss out, vaguely hearing her question between the pounding of your heart in your ears and the white noise taking over as you creep closer and closer to your climax, “Fuck, Mama, I’m yours.”

The guttural sound that escapes her is unlike one you’ve ever heard before and it sends shocks down your spine straight to your core. Your movements become just as erratic as hers as she manages to slip a third finger in, stretching you deliciously. It’s pain, pleasure, and pure ecstasy as she pants soothing whispers into your ear.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetling,” she praises, “You make the prettiest sounds,” she coos, “I can’t believe you’re finally mine,” she growls, pressing against your clit with more determination now, eyes wide and desperate to see you untamed as you come undone.

“God, don’t stop,” you whine, your sounds filthy, loud enough to scare the afternoon birds away. It’s a moment frozen in time as your back arches, chest pushing into her face as your breath catches in your throat. You feel nothing but her, hear nothing but her, see nothing but those darkened blue eyes before yours shut tight in pleasure.

Agatha’s right there with you, soothing you as you ride your climax, her fingers still pushing you through it despite how tightly you’re throbbing around them. Her mouth finds your chest again, sucking with hunger, kisses moving up until she reaches the skin of your neck and she bites, deep and hard, not bothering to soothe it with a lick of her tongue before going to another patch, and another, claiming you.

She only stops when your moans turn into soft mewls, panting as your hand sifts through Agatha’s wild hair. God, you’re obsessed with it; with her.

“How do you feel?” Agatha asks, pulling back to kiss your lips gently. Her natural pout remains as she pulls away, eyes glued to your swollen pink lips.

You gaze down at her with tenderness, stroking the hairs at the back of her neck. “Free.”

masterlist + guidelines

this is just p*rn at this point lmfao (is anyone actually complaining tho?)

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 5

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT IMPLIED? + VOYEURISM

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

“Blast me.” 

Attempting to channel all your rage with a furious frown on your face, you blast your Magick towards Agatha but it falls short, barely reaching her. She scoffs at your pathetic attempt, crossing her arms over her chest as she diverts your power away.

“Is that all you have?” Agatha goads with a cackle. It’s clear what she’s trying to do but provoking you will not work. It never does. You have never been one for violence.

“I cannot,” you mutter in defeat, hesitantly dropping your trembling hands.

Agatha arches her brow. “Cannot, or will not?” she asks, her tone still laced with venom as she steps closer to you. But you step back, almost hiding in the darkness of the basement. This is not what you meant by teach me. No, you wanted to master the craft, wanting to really harness and create beautiful Magick. But blasting? Attacking? Especially somebody you clearly care about? Training or not, this is not something you are capable of doing.

“I cannot, Agatha,” it’s the first time your voice takes on a tone as such. There’s a finality to it, a sense of authority, but over yourself rather than over her. Agatha seems taken aback by it, stopping in her advances towards you. You’re unsure whether she deemed it an attack on her or not, but it’s clear she’s been affected by your words.

“I did not mean to push you, little–Uh, Y/N. I apologise.”

You cling to her words. She stopped herself before calling you her little dove. Why? Why would she do that, other than not wanting to call you that anymore? Does she no longer care for you? Is this her way of putting distance between you before you inevitably find yourself talking to an impossibly tall brick wall?

“Do you wish to end our training here?” Agatha hesitates before asking, seemingly already coming up with an idea of what your answer will be. She’s already stepping back, retreating, and somehow your panic and fear take over. Seeing her walk away after putting emotional distance too has you scared that this may be the start of you losing her. And you cannot have that. Just the idea of it is terrifying.

“Agatha, wait,” you call out shakily, forcing yourself to come forward. She pauses, turning back to face you with her arms wrapped around herself defensively. There’s a cautious yet optimistic look in her eyes, and for some reason you really don’t want to see that optimistic spark run out.

“Would you like to continue?” Agatha asks instead when you struggle to get your words out, your mouth gaping and closing like a fish.

Gathering the courage, you shake your head and finally speak up. “I do not like this form of, uh, training, as I do not wish to harm you,” Agatha’s instinctive reaction to your words is a playful roll of her eyes as if saying ‘You? Harming me?’ but after she soaks your words in, a softer, surprised look takes over.

“You do not wish to harm me?” she asks quietly, her fingers softly twisting in that anxious way they always do. You don’t allow yourself to think before reaching out and clasping her hands in your own. Agatha immediately sucks in a harsh breath at the sudden contact, but she leans closer, gripping tightly in fear of you letting go.

“I–I do care for you. And Rio. I swear to you, that is why I have been misbehaving as–”

“I hate when you say words like that,” Agatha interrupts, carrying on when you frown in confusion, “You do not let yourself feel, react, behave as a normal person. You must degrade yourself, punish yourself…I wish for you to stop.”

Your brows come together, not sure how to respond to such caring words like this. She’s clearly extremely observant – at least when it comes to your behaviours – for her to notice this, and not only notice it but dislike it because she–

“I only wish for you to feel happy, and safe,” Agatha carries on, stepping even closer, so close you can see the blue hues in her eyes swirling as she looks into yours side to side, “I wish to–I wish Rio and I make you feel that way, and I understand that my words were hurtful, and I had not meant them in the way you believe I did, but you should still allow yourself to be upset with me, Y/N, you cannot dismiss yourself and–”

“Agatha,” you call her name softly, holding onto her hands as you shoot her a small, humoured smile at her adorable rambling. She flushes slightly in embarrassment, though you’re sure if it were anyone else they would never see that red tinting her cheeks and live to tell the tale, “It may take me a while to feel safe anywhere, not just here. But I…” you pause as she tilts her head, eager to soak in your words, “But I forgive you, and I am willing to try.”

The air feels hot and charged between the two of you as Agatha takes a shaky breath in and out. She takes a step closer, your intertwined hands pressed between your bodies; you inhale sharply, breathing in the relieved breaths she’s just let out. Those beautiful blue eyes flicker down for a moment before heading back up, but they seem to remain indecisive as they go back again and again. Your heart leaps in your chest, feeling the flame of your hopeless desire flicker back, and you suddenly feel parched with Agatha’s lips being the only cure to your thirst.

Suddenly, Agatha gasps, her eyes glowing darker, pupils quickly blowing. Without realising it, your hands had started to cast Magick. You’re not sure what spell it is, but Agatha’s clearly affected by it, her lips parting as she pants, sweat already glistening against her neck, and her eyes remaining wild and free. 

Training has been less hands-on since then. Agatha took a moment to understand what method suits you best, but once she figured it out it has been smooth-sailing study sessions in her office. A few times she had to take you down to the basement, teaching you some of the basic but most important protection spells, but she was always gentle, always patient, and always…

“Good girl,” she’d say, over and over again with a smile that keeps bordering on knowing and playful to not know what effect those words have on you. It’s always paired with low, dark eyes and a subtle lip bite that has been annoyingly consistent in haunting your dreams every night.

Paired with Rio’s lessons, you honestly don’t understand how you’re still alive. The brown-eyed teacher is extremely hands-on, literally. She’ll come up behind you and place a strong, firm hand on the dip of your hip as she guides you on how to correctly dig, how to plant for roots to remain strong and grow effortlessly, how to add the exact right amount of Magick to them to give them a perfect glow. Her touch is always hot, unexpected, and so firm and confident that by the end of your lessons you’re always panting, on the verge of making a split decision to run to the nearest, coldest lake and dive in.

It’s worse when it’s early, and when it’s late. You’ve learnt that sleepiness is paired with their lack of self-control. One morning, you walked out of your room with a stretch and a yawn, heading to the kitchen just to walk in on Agatha sat on the table with Rio between her legs, kissing her with a demanding aura, her teeth biting at Agatha’s lower lip with a furious desire. As a moan left Agatha’s throat, croaky and loud, a blush took over your face and you had to carefully run back to your room, laying in your bed wishing the image away.

The following evening, Rio pecked Agatha’s lips sweetly as she handed her a cup of tea. Ignoring your presence – or simply feeling comfortable enough in it – Agatha deepened the kiss by wrapping a strong hand to the back of Rio’s neck, pulling her down into her lap. They moved together slowly, routinely, Rio’s curves even more prominent in this position, and you could not keep your eyes away. Not until Rio broke the kiss with a loud groan and pant, immediately ducking her head to bite Agatha’s neck, and the blue-eyed beauty’s eyes excitedly caught your own over Rio’s shoulder. You forced your feet to move you back to your room with a muttered goodnight.

The absolute worst of it was yet to come…

It’s still dark when you’re woken up by a loud bang. You’re not sure what it is yet, still groggy as you force yourself to stretch and scratch at your eyes. Grabbing at the glass typically left on your dresser, you sit up and put it to your lips. Frustratedly, you see that it’s empty and sigh. Now you’ll have to get up. By the time you’ve snuck your way into the kitchen to fill up your glass, you hear the sound again.

It’s a subtle thumping, every two seconds or so, until it becomes louder, more consistent. The sound is followed by a groan of some sort, gutteral, whiney; you immediately think Agatha or Rio must be in danger and frown as you cautiously head towards the noise.

Twirls of orange Magick ball in your palms as you delicately move your fingers to control it. The floorboard creaks as you approach and you freeze, not wanting to alert the danger. But the sounds continue after that, the groaning and whining louder and louder as you head into the hallway. Agatha and Rio’s bedroom is at the end of it; the door is left slightly ajar.

The sounds sound clearer the closer you get, and halfway through you realise what it could possibly be. Red tints your cheeks as the groans begin to sound like moans, pants, or a swear word or two slipping out in between soft sighs of ‘Rio’, over and over again.

You should turn back. You should turn back and head to your room and wrap a blanket around your ears. That is the responsible thing to do, the right thing to do; invading their privacy is not an option.

But Agatha sounds so enticing, her Magick strong and powerfully calling to you. It strangely feels similar to when your hands were connected when your Magick pulled from her and glowed between the two of you. That fact alone has you pulling towards their room like a magnet, unable to stop yourself. With your hands trembling, lips pressed together tightly to prevent them from hearing your breathing, you reach the door and peek inside. Your eyes widen, suddenly the furthest thing from sleepy, at the sight of them.

The banging sound is the bed bumping against the wall, matching the rhythm of Rio’s thrusting. Rio, her naked, beautifully muscled back to you, her behind tight as she thrusts forward. Thrusting forward, into Agatha, pressing her firm hands to the skin of Agatha’s plump ass, pushing her forward to force her to arch her back down. Agatha’s groaning is loud, beautifully so, her whines incredibly needy, and Rio is cocky as ever with her humoured chuckles, her groans of appreciation, her praises.

You expected Rio’s fingers between them, but you then realise you saw both her hands on Agatha’s behind. With a frown, you peek in further, risking it with a twisted neck. When Rio pulls back for a moment to tease Agatha, you see it. There’s a wooden object between Rio’s legs, strapped to her; you’ve never see anything like it. It resembles a man’s, but it’s not. It’s attached to Rio, glistening with Agatha’s slick, and she’s wearing it like it’s a part of her, so confident, slapping it against Agatha’s wet lips and gasping as if she can feel them.

It’s only at Rio’s next words that you’re finally broken out of your narcotic haze.

“Fuck, I want her so bad, my love.”

Her. Her?

Agatha moans even louder at Rio’s declaration. “I do not think I have it in me to wait a moment longer, Rio, God, I need her,” Agatha whines deliciously and you force yourself to step away and back to your room just so you can gasp.

Who the hell were they talking about? And why do you so wish it were you?

masterlist + guidelines

HI! HI! WHY IS READER STUPID? for the plot obviously

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 10

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + EDGING? + ROPE (VINE) PLAY + SLIGHT DEGRADATION? VERY MINIMAL

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It took you a few days to realise it, but when you finally did it hit you right in the chest. You are restless without Rio. Agatha has been there for you, holding you, coaxing you through your desires, teaching you lesson after lesson, but something is missing. And after the third night of terrible sleep, you realise you miss Rio.

“When will she be back?” you ask Agatha for the fifth time in the last two days, pouting when she sighs dismissively, “Agatha,” you whine out her name, drawing the syllables out, “When?”

The blue-eyed witch turns to you with a frown, revealing the heavy bags under her eyes that match your own. “Her job is complicated, sweetheart. We can never be sure how long she is needed for. You must be patient, and understand–”

You groan audibly and shut your eyes tight, interrupting Agatha. “Maybe I would understand if you would just tell me what it is she–”

“Did you just interrupt me?” Agatha scolds, her eyes squinting in warning. But you’ve received plenty warning from her about this, far too many for her to simply let it go.

“I’m sorry,” you start, attempting to plead your case, but Agatha cuts you off with a snarl and a typically gentle hand to your throat. It’s rough, the touch shocking you as she shoves you against the bedroom door. You’ve been spending the nights in their bedroom with Agatha, and think perhaps Rio’s lingering scent has made you miss her even more. You can even smell her on Agatha when you bury your face in her neck before going to bed.

“Sorry?” Agatha mocks, scoffing as she pushes her body flush against yours, her fingers tightening their hold on the sides of your neck. You whimper in submission, trying to tilt your head back but she keeps you still, her intense gaze still locked to your sorry eyes.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologise again, Agatha’s lips are roughly pressed to yours. Her invading tongue pushes through right away, establishing her dominance as you whimper into her touch, melting as she slides her tongue against yours, claiming you over and over again. But before you can start roaming your hands over her body, she abruptly pulls back leaving you hazed and confused.

“What?” you mumble, blinking your eyes open with a frown.

Agatha’s expression is one of controlled anger with the tiniest hint of satisfaction as she glances over your blushed cheeks, pouty lips, beaked buds through your thin gown.

“Why did you stop?” you moan in complaint, reaching out to grab at her but Agatha takes a step away from you in defiance; your frown deepens as you pout, begging for her to touch you.

The wicked witch smirks as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Naughty girls deserve to be punished,” Agatha says simply, walking away before you can protest. You’re left with your mouth hung open, equally shocked and turned on. Is this your punishment? Because you would much rather be spanked than have your desires ignored.

“Wait, please–”

Agatha cackles as she continues walking to the little washroom attached to the bedroom. “Begging will not work, sweetheart. You need to learn your lesson. Now, go tend to the garden, and wash yourself up afterwards. We’ll be headed to the Inn this evening.”

The Inn. Your Inn. With Catherine, the innkeeper’s daughter who very clearly provoked a certain type of reaction from Agatha and Rio the last time you were seen with her.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you ask timidly, turning your head away from Agatha’s intense glare as she spins back. You take that as your answer and nod, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you with a soft thud.

Well, fuck.

Perhaps it wasn’t your best decision, but since Agatha refuses to touch you the best you could think of was making that task as hard as possible for her. Perhaps she’ll break, or it’ll only anger her further. You’ve come to learn that an angry Agatha is either the best or worse outcome; it’s the worst when the anger turns into yelling, tears, and a deeply painful feeling in your chest, but it’s the best when it turns into smirks, rough hands and angry kisses all over your skin.

Picking out the best dress possible was easy enough since you only have a few anyway. The cut of the top half is enticing enough without the undergarments you opted for, the special kind that pushes your breasts up as high as possible. Your corset is dark, black, intricately laced and worn over your dress as a statement; that statement is clear enough to Agatha it seems, her eyes darkening the moment you step out of your bedroom to show her just how ready you are to go.

“Is it time already?” you ask innocently, your tone teasing and playful. The smile you flash at her is knowing as she cannot keep her eyes away from your chest. She’ll look up at you trying to hold your gaze but those poor blues inevitably bounce back down. Part of you thinks (hopes) Agatha will decide right here and now to skip out on the Inn and devour you right here in the hallway, but instead she gathers her composure and straightens her back.

“If you think I will give in to these childish games, you do not know me well enough.”

You lift a brow as she brushes past you, faltering in her step when she’s close enough to get a whiff of your scent. Her head snaps to you, suddenly gripping you by the neck to pull you closer. A gasp is ripped from your throat as her nose presses against your skin.

“Is this…”

Rio’s perfume. It’s a special mix she makes just for herself, a brand, a unique blend that is distinctly her. Agatha growls at the realisation that you must have snuck back into the room while she was napping earlier and taken Rio’s perfume from the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sorry…Was that not permitted?”

Her jaw tightens at the faux innocence in your tone. Before she can stop herself, she leans in and sinks her teeth into your skin, giving you no warm up whatsoever. You gasp, hands immediately skying up to grip at her free hair. Every time she has her hair down like this, you cannot help but obsess over it. It’s so soft, so pretty, so wild and free and so Agatha.

“Whose attention are you trying to get tonight?” Agatha growls against your neck, sucking, biting, her hot tongue swiping over the wound.

“Yours,” you gasp, arching your body closer to her, “Always yours.”

Though she may not believe you completely, she still pulls back satisfied with your answer, and the bright smirk on her face as her eyes lock onto the mark she has left lets you know she’s satisfied with how she’s branded you. Your stomach drops, twisting uncomfortably with the thought of Catherine seeing the mark and understanding the insinuation.

Agatha senses your discomfort and it only fuels her excitement for tonight. The two of you are out the door before you can protest further.

The sound of lively music and laughter can be heard from far out. It seems the Inn is busy tonight, or the people are louder. Whatever the reason is, you still hear it as you see it in the distance, Agatha’s hold tightening around your linked arms as you approach. It’s a innocent enough touch, but one that you two share the secret of. It’s exciting, you think, the sinking feeling in your stomach turning into something else close to desire. To sit by her, have her hand trailing up and down your thigh under the table for no one to see but for you to feel…

Just the thought has you clearing that ball forming in your throat, catching Agatha’s knowing smirk shot your way. She wraps her arm around yours tighter, pressing her side to yours as you reach the door.

“Best behaviour,” Agatha warns teasingly, nipping at your ear discreetly before pushing the door open, letting everyone see the bright blush on your cheeks. The loud roar of joint singing hits you as the door opens; along with the sounds of boots hitting the ground, fists slamming against tables, and the men playing their fiddles in the back, it’s almost overwhelming. But it’s been some time since you’ve last been here, been around people in general other than Agatha and Rio, so you allow yourself a moment of adjustment. Agatha stays firm beside you, grounding, supportive, guiding.

You’re too distracted, watching over both the familiar and new faces in the crowd. The same group of gossiping grey women are sat in their corner, their typical scowls taken over by cheerful smiles as they join the crowd in their joyous singing. The main singing man is the same as he always is, immediately grinning widely when his eyes catch yours. He sings and sings and sings, stomping on the table as he does so, tipping his hat to you in the middle of his dance.

“There is a tavern in the town, in the town, and there my true love sits him down, sits him down, and drinks his wine as merry as can be, and never, never thinks of me!”

You begin to clap along with them, a soft smile on your lips as you reminisce. Despite you needing to hide yourself and look over your shoulder all the time, it was still a unique, warm feeling to be part of this community. You were still yourself, only showing them the parts that were safe enough to reveal.

“Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, do not let this parting grieve thee, and remember that the best of friends, must part, must part.”

Agatha’s hand is back, her touch warm and firm against your lower back. She passes you a pint, a half-smirk on her lips as she observes your freeing expression. Her reappearance is a reminder of what you left for. A soft warmth takes over your insides, making it incredibly hard not to lay a gentle kiss over her lips at this exact moment. She’s well aware of your struggle, finding it just as difficult; you can tell by the way her eyes go hooded, zoning into your pink, plump lips.

“Adieu, adieu kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu, I can no longer stay with you, stay with you, I will hang my harp on the weeping willow tree, and may the world go well with thee.”

Those eyes look even brighter with the candlelight here, those blues tinted a soft orange as they glitter and glow at you. You can’t help but reach to hold her hand in yours, squeezing once, twice, pulling away when it crosses over to inappropriate.

The two of you make your way to a table near the back, badly lit so dark enough for no one to really want to be seated there. Agatha sits across from you, both your dresses long and puffed enough to prevent anyone from seeing her sneaky antics. She slowly lifts her leg, the one closer to the wall and hidden behind her other, and slides her foot under your dress. 

You only realise what she’s doing when you feel her warm foot brush against your ankle; the sip of alcohol you were drinking catches in your throat. “Agatha,” you gasp quietly, terrified of what others may say if they catch you.

The wicked witch grins at you slyly, hiding her smile behind her own pint. “What?” she says, feigning innocence with a dramatic hand to her chest. But you cannot be fooled, not when her foot trails even higher, wrapping around your calf.

“We cannot. Not here, not where Cath–” you cut your own sentence short, cheeks tinting at the mix-up. Agatha’s touch is immediately gone, the humoured expression now taken over by a quiet discomfort. Before she spirals, you try to interrupt her thoughts, “Agatha, I simply meant that she may recognise you and make certain…assumptions. Your anger was very palpable that night. Surely you understand why I am feeling a little…”

“What?” Agatha scowls, “Protective? Why must you care what she feels? Let her assume, because her assumptions are the truth, are they not?”

A frown takes over your face as you take in her words. You’re unsure why she’s this angry about it. Surely keeping your secret is important, no? Especially considering Agatha’s past, discarded and thrown aside for being different. She should understand where you’re coming from…but below the anger, you see a hint of something else, something vulnerable that looks dangerously close to insecurity.

“If what she assumes is that I lo–”

“Y/N?”

Both your heads snap to the sound of your name, landing on Catherine, stood with wide, green eyes, a beautifully intricate beige and pink dress flowing to her ankles, and her blonde curls tight just below her shoulders. Agatha surprisingly contains herself, offering Catherine a thin, forced smile; you figured she’d jump up over the table with a growl.

“Y/N, oh, God, how are you? Where have you been?” Catherine rushes over to the table, her heels clacking against the floorboards. Instinctively, you stand up and let her hug you, wrapping your arms around her when she falls forward a little, tripping over the edge of your chair.

“Catherine,” you mumble with a soft laugh, “It’s good to see you,” pulling away from the hug doesn’t seem to work as you attempt to put a little distance. Catherine simply pulls you back closer, so close her nose is just an inch or so away from pressing to yours.

“I have missed you,” she says in a whisper, eyes hooded as she stares into your own, “Dearly,” she adds, her voice turning dark, deep, a clear attempt at a rasp.

The clearing of a throat pulls her attention away. While your head turns to Agatha expecting the sound to have come from her, Catherine’s turns the other way. When your eyes meet Agatha’s blues, there’s a humoured glimmer in them. She lifts a brow, pointedly looking over your shoulder and you have a feeling you’re about to be in deep trouble.

Slowly, you look over to the other side, gasping softly when your eyes land on Rio, stood with a deep glare over her face, a clenched jaw so dangerously sharp, eyes that could kill with a blink. Her black dress is scandalous to be wearing in public, tight around her curves which you can only see because she’s kept her oversized green cloak open at the front.

“Rio,” you whisper, immediately pulling away from Catherine to jump forward. Once the shock dissipates, all that is left is pure want, your heart yearning to be as close to her now that she’s back.

She has no time to react as you fall into her, arms wrapping around her neck; hers dangle for a moment awkwardly before sinking around your curves, pulling you in possessively tight. You can hear her breath hitching as her face presses into your neck, sniffing deeply; her hands grip your waist tight as she recognises her own scent on you, softly growling into your neck.

She’s so impossibly cold but you don’t care. Her touch is what you’ve been needing for so long, her scent, her presence, so comforting and protective. The way she holds you tight against her as if you belong to her, like she’s missed you and ached for something as simple as a hug, needing you just as badly as you need her. You forget yourself for that moment, falling into her safe arms and melting as she buries her face in your neck and refuses to leave it.

But suddenly, Catherine is laughing awkwardly, forcing the two of you to let go for a moment. It breaks you out of your Rio-bubble for a moment, panic filling your stomach at the closeness Catherine just saw. It seems to have broken Rio out of her Y/N-bubble too, her anger back as she stiffens against you, effectively pulling away until you’re no longer touching.

“New friends?” Catherine asks with a confused half-smile.

It definitely isn’t your best move, but you can’t think of anything but run and decide to pull Catherine away from the two angry witches. “Why don’t I buy you drink? Catch me up on how the Inn has been!”

Minutes later, you realise it was possibly the worst decision you could have made in that moment. Catherine started, and would not stop. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem; that was Rio across the Inn with the deepest of glares to begin with, but that since then has shifted into something you cannot decipher. It’s blank, dark, but she’s refusing to look at anything but you. Agatha’s hand is glued to Rio’s, running a thumb back and forth to soothe her, but it doesn’t do much to calm the bouncing of her knee as she watches Catherine continue to flirt with you.

Perhaps you should go back? The way you’re laughing back dangerously looks like flirting too, especially when she gets closer and closer to you, her hand touching your own, brushing over your bicep, tucking your stray hair behind your ear. And you do nothing to stop it. Part of you starts to enjoy it, though you will never admit that to the two witches across the Inn. You enjoy Catherine’s friendship, and there is no harm in her flirting; it feels good to be wanted. But within minutes you find yourself wanting nothing but Rio, Agatha, your little cabin away from the chaos that comes with this Inn.

It’s more than chaos, but fear. Of not fitting in, of revealing too much of your past, of the lack of acceptance. Agatha and Rio have given you that and more, all you could have ever wanted. Finally coming to a decision, you clear your throat, interrupting Catherine’s story.

“I should head back to my…friends.” 

Catherine frowns, turning to glance over her shoulder to them. “They look awfully familiar…”

“Oh, you must have been drinking too much to remember. I met them here, they sit in that corner all the time!” you laugh nervously, hoping the lie works.

Catherine remains suspicious but drops it when she realises she has bigger problems, one being you disappearing on her again. “Have you been staying elsewhere? Or working? Somewhere far away? I really do miss you, Y/N…There’s so much I think about, so much I would like to say to you but I feel…I feel it may be inappropriate and almost futile to do so if you will not be around.”

“Y/N,” Rio’s raspy voice is easily recognisable to you, suddenly appearing by your side, “We must go,” she says with finality, her tone making it crystal clear that it’s an order, not a suggestion.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced,” Catherine shoots Rio a bright, beautiful smile, as if she is trying to crack the hard interior being thrown her way, “My name is Cath–”

“And we will not be introduced. Y/N.”

Shooting up out of your seat, you give a confused and offended Catherine an apologetic smile, promising to see her soon. You try to follow Rio out, opting out of a hug, but Catherine practically forces you into one, whispering a soft ‘be careful’, clearly interpreting Rio’s abrupt nature as a danger. You can’t help but laugh.

By the time you step out of the Inn, Rio’s already a walk ahead so you practically run to her. “Rio! Rio, wait, is Agatha not–”

“She’s staying for another drink or so,” Rio answers bluntly, not turning back to look at you as she marches in anger.

A frown forms on your lips and you stop, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. “Why are you being this way?” you complain, yelling out as she’s still ahead of you. 

That seems to catch Rio’s attention; she slows before coming to a stop. “Why?” Rio repeats, the anger shaking her voice as she turns to face you, “I have been gone, and it has been excruciating being away from Agatha, and you,” she says, emphasising you, “And I am finally able to come back. Just to track the two of you, and find you draping yourself over some other woman. In front of Agatha, nonetheless.”

You gulp as she steps closer to you, finally coming to a stop right in front of you. She’s not much taller than you, but it feels like she’s towering of you in this moment as she glares deeply, trying to mask her hurt with anger.

“Not only have you been disrespectful to me, but to Agatha, too. And on the very day you were being punished for whining like a child? My, you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Her harsh words feel like a slap across the face. Rio’s been angry, distant, but cruel is not a word you’d use to describe her. Before you can even open your mouth to apologise, you’re transported back to the cabin in a cloud of green smoke. Stumbling as you try and gather yourself, your arm ends up gripping her bicep. Rio can’t help but pull you closer at that, lifting you into her arms and pressing you up against her bedroom door. Before she kisses you, she pauses a moment, breathing in your gasps and soft breaths, eyes so beautifully brown, wide and intense.

“I wish I did not have to punish you this moment,” Rio mumbles, sighing as she memorises every crease in your forehead, the curve of your nose, the plump shape of your lips, “I have missed you dearly, my sweet…” Rio’s voice turns soft for a moment before she growls, “If only you missed me so.”

Her lips crash against yours, claiming, possessive, and rough; she sucks at your bottom lip roughly before nipping at it in soft punishment, groaning as you whimper against her. She allows you only a few seconds of roaming hands, nails scratching along her back through her cloak, but before you can go any further your hands are pulled back, a rough material wrapping around them in seconds.

“What is that?” you mumble as Rio pulls away from your lips for a moment, satisfied as she observes your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes.

“No touching,” Rio commands simply, tugging at the contraption holding your hands together, “It’s about time you’re introduced to my vines,” she chuckles playfully, trailing softer kisses down your neck as you sigh and turn your head to the side. Rio’s pleased with your obedience, immediately marking your new skin with her teeth, tongue, lips that suck and kiss tenderly.

“I did,” you gasp out, arching your body towards her when you tug against your restraints aimlessly.

“Did what?” Rio whispers against your neck, licking up to the spot just behind your ear. She sucks harshly, coaxing a choked moan out of you, smirking against your skin as she does so.

You struggle to keep hold of your composure, the ache between your legs growing by the second, but you manage to push you, “Miss you. I did miss you, Rio.”

She falters in her kisses, her grip on your waist loosening for a moment of weakness. “And here I was,” she chuckles, “thinking you liked Agatha more than me,” she jokes, but you can hear the vulnerability and insecurity she’s attempting to mask. 

With a frown, you brush your nose against her cheek, trying to get her attention. It takes a few frustrated attempts but she finally pulls back to look into your eyes with a sigh, and a tight jaw. “Why would you think that?”

Rio mumbles incoherently, choosing to ignore your question and silence you with a rough kiss. Her tongue slides against your bottom lip before slithering through, brushing over your teeth, tongue, the roof of your mouth as if claiming her territory. You let her do so, finding this to be a comfort to her; if she’ll ignore your words, you’ll let her take you as she pleases until there is not a single flash of uncertainty left in those beautiful brown eyes.

All you can do is submit to her touch. She yanks at the restraints, tugging you forward to follow her to the bed. But instead of sitting you down on it, she pushes at your shoulders until your knees hit the ground. Looking up at her with parted lips, you take in just how ethereal she is. Her brown locks look untamed, frizzy and almost as wild as those eyes. She almost looks feral, but still controlled as her eyes follow the movement of your neck as you gulp.

“You missed me?” Rio asks softly, her hand reaching to gently hold your jaw.

Sighing and leaning into her touch, you blink softly. “I did.”

Rio shoots you a small, satisfied smile before it turns dark, her jaw clenching and hand sliding down to your neck. “Then show me.”

You’re well aware that your hands are tied, but the look of desire Rio shoots down has you tugging, desperate to pull at her thighs until your face is pressed exactly where she wants it. With a chuckle and flick of her fingers, her clothing falls off her body, pooling at her ankles. Seeing her now, entirely naked, all smooth, tanned skin…God, you don’t know how you haven’t collapsed yet. Forgetting to take a breath causes you to get a little lightheaded but Rio’s hand is right there to keep you upright.

She leans down, her concerned but humoured eyes meeting yours. “Should I take that as a good sign?” Rio teases, her thumb brushing over your cheek.

Without uttering a word back, you slide your face against her hand until her thumb’s pressed against your lips. Rio’s eyes turn a shade darker, hooded as you flick a tongue out, teasing her for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip of her tongue. And then you suck, hard, cheeks hollowed, and Rio can’t control the gasp that escapes, can’t control the way her teeth clench together, the wetness gathering between her legs and coating her inner thighs.

With a growl that almost sounds close to a whine, she rises back up to her feet, hands gripping onto your locks tightly. The two of your move together, you moving your head forward while she pushes you closer until your tongue is sliding through her slick folds. You moan in unison at the first touch, Rio almost quivering with desperate want.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at that,” Rio’s praises shoot right down to your core; your thighs press together, desperate for the tiniest spark of friction. Tugging at your restraints doesn’t work again as you feel the urge to grip at her thighs and pull her closer. Rio does the work instead, using your mouth for her pleasure.

Her nails scratch along your scalp as she rolls her lips languidly, trying to savour the moment, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. The way she looks down with her lips parted practically panting like she’s in heat drives you to insanity. Eager to please, you swirl your tongue around her entrance, teasing it before sliding in with ease.

“Yes, just like that,” Rio hisses at the feeling, staggering for a moment before grinding down harder, wanting more of you inside her. It takes another minute of your tongue expertly twisting and swirling inside her before a disgruntled whimper escapes her, and within seconds she’s twisted around, pushing your head against the edge of the bed to let it down.

“Please,” you pant out the moment your tongue slips out of her, licking your lips for more of her sweet taste, “I want to make you–”

Rio cuts you off by pushing her lips against you again, letting you drown in her with desperate, muffled moans. She lets out the same as she grinds her clit over your tongue hard, fast, her rhythm faltering.

“Yes, fuck, Y/N,” she moans your name, throwing her head back as she practically mounts your face smothering you between her thighs, “So good for me,” she pants, “So pretty,” she gasps, her head bouncing back to look you in the eyes as she reaches her climax. It’s that, seeing that desperate, eager-to-please look, the clear submission, hands tied but tongue obedient to her. That’s what pushes her over the edge.

She whines as she comes, hips twitching, so close your nose is buried in her. Wanting to see just how far you can push her, you suddenly wrap your lips around her clit, sucking while flicking your tongue. It forces a high-pitched scream from her throat, desperate, croaky, so incredibly sexy you feel your own heat throbbing in response. God, you could come just from this, you’re sure of it, whimpering and whining around her clit as you pulse, empty and desperate to be filled.

Once Rio pulls herself back, you lick at your lips again, panting up at her with lust-filled feral eyes. She groans at the intense gaze you give her, clearly taken by you; she can barely contain herself, forgetting you’re meant to be punished for your behaviour as she drops down to lick herself off your face. Her tongue slides over your skin, your chin, neck, wherever she finds herself before slipping past your lips.

You moan into the kiss, letting her set a languid pace as your tongues dance together softly. “Please,” you beg, whispering against her lips as she pulls back for a moment, but she ignores you, kissing you again and again until you’re whining, trying to grind up into nothing, “Rio, please.”

She chuckles wickedly, biting on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but the pain is gone just as fast as her tongue swipes against it. You’re confused for a moment on how she’s done that, but you’re too distracted to ask, your desire ever-present in a messy, heated pulse between your legs.

“Are you forgetting this is a punishment?” her hand slides up your chest, pinching your nipples through your dress, “This is quite the outfit,” she mumbles hungrily, watching your breasts push up as you heave, “Were you trying to impress that whore?”

“No!” you immediately protest, shaking your head vigorously, “I swear it, I was only attempting to frust–” you cut your own words off, realising you’ve fallen into a trap. Rio grins in satisfaction, tipping your head up with a finger to your chin.

“Frustrate…Agatha?”

There’s a silence as you refuse to answer, terrified of the repercussions. But you’re already in them, already experiencing them. It seems Rio is being creative with her punishment tonight, choosing to ignore your desires completely knowing it would drive you to the very brink of losing your composure.

Rio rises to her feet, your face directly in front of her glistening heat again. But this time she swirls her fingers, controlling the vines. More of them manifest, this time gripping your ankles too, and separating your wrists; you’re pulled up the bed until you’re spread across for her. With another snap of her fingers, your clothes suddenly disappear, but she leaves the tight black corset over your stomach just for her satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful…” Rio says with wonder, running her slender, cold fingers over your legs, thighs, purposely ignoring the obvious mess between them, “Something as beautiful as this deserves to be worshipped…too bad you won’t be touched tonight.”

A pout springs and tears immediately fill up in your eyes. Surely she must be teasing? Just a threat to make sure you behave? “I’ll be good, I promise, please,” you plead, your voice quivering in fear.

Rio falters for a moment before her hard gaze steadies again. Her touch is cold, dangerously so, but you crave it so, pulsing with need; within seconds she’s left you, walking into small washroom attached to their bedroom. Rio ignores your pleas, your desperate cries for her to come back. As much as it pains her, you must be punished for your bratty behaviour.

By the time she comes back, you’ve quieted down to soft whimpers, the pout still painted on your swollen lips. You perk up when you see her, trying to lift your neck to see what she’s hiding behind her back.

“It seems you have forgotten who you belong to,” Rio rasps, “And that as much as you are ours…we are also yours.”

Her words hit hard, harder than you expected them to. There’s nothing to do but watch her in adoration, wanting to voice your own feelings too but finding your throat too dry to speak those words. Rio hums as she observes but then reveals what she’s holding behind her back. You immediately tense up as your eyes lock onto the leather cock, made of a dark green material this time. It’s slightly thicker but shorter than the one she had used last time, but it makes you hungry for it nonetheless, desperate for the stretch.

But Rio shocks you this time as the vines let go of your ankles just for her to start sliding the harness up your legs. “Wait, what are you–”

“I told you, Y/N. You will not be touched tonight,” she says with finality, leaving no room for argument. Even as you open your mouth to protest, she stops you, climbing on top you and crawling like a cat until two of her fingers slip past your lips. Moaning at the filthy act, you swirl your tongue between her fingers, sucking gently, obediently, eyes locked to hers trying to entice her. But she doesn’t give in. Instead, she simply smirks at your pathetic desperation and rolls her hips over the fake cock between your legs.

Rio sighs softly at the first touch, letting it pass through her folds to slick it up. It doesn’t take much; not after your eager tongue and the long wait while she’s been gone. You gasp around her fingers, and she stutters, eyes locked to yours while lifting her hips up, using her other hand to adjust the cock. Rio sinks down, gasping at the filling sensation. It stretches her deliciously, and clearly it’s been a while for her given the slow, sensual pace.

“Fuck,” she curses softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours, fingers still buried in your mouth. You suck on them when you wake up from your haze, bringing her urgency back to life. She gasps again as she bounces down hard, so hard the lewd sound of your bodies meeting echoes in the room.

Rio pushes her fingers further in, forcing a gag out of you; the sound only excites her as she begins a slow but hard pace, sitting up until she’s nearly empty then slamming back down again with a loud groan. Though you’re turned on beyond belief, all you want to do at this moment is hold her, grip her waist, mouth at her breasts. You want to feel her, to guide her through her pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, muffled with her fingers still in your mouth. Rio continues to ignore you, too caught up in seeking her own pleasure. The wet sound of her pussy clamping around your cock is dizzying, paired with her enticing moans and you’re a goner, “Fuck, please, Rio,” you beg, but your pleas only urge her on more. 

She bounces down harder, grinding her hips against yours to seek friction over her clit, but she sees it’s not enough she risks taking her fingers out and giving you the ability to speak once again. Those same fingers, wet from your mouth, slide down to her clit right away as she sits up.

“You’re breathtaking,” you gasp, finally able to look down between her legs where you two meet. She’s practically shining, absolutely soaked; her slick coats both your thighs, sticking to the leather cock as it pistons through her over and over again, “Fuck, Rio, please, I want–”

Rio breaks your words with a loud moan, using her other hand to grope at her chest. “I already told you, sweetheart. You’re not getting touched tonight.”

You groan in frustration, hands turning into fists as you fail to contain your needs. “I don’t care, Rio, I just want to touch you!”

The witch falters on top of you, not expecting you to be that desperate for touching her. “You–” she stutters, moaning softly as a roll of her hips has the cock pressing up all her sensitive spots, “You want to touch me?” Rio asks again, her tone curious, surprised, eyes wide and analytical as she stares down at you.

The way she’s looking at you is almost hypnotic. “Please, let me, just let me hold you,” you whimper, tugging against the restraints again.

Rio leans down, her lips hovering over yours and pulling back when you reach up too close to kiss her. “Really?” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours as she wraps herself around you, “You want to touch me, baby?”

A whimper escapes you. “Yes. Please, I need to touch you.”

Rio sucks in a harsh breath, gripping your jaw for a moment, just looking at you before pouncing down like a cat. Her lips attach to yours in a tender but controlling kiss, moaning into your mouth as you brush your tongue against hers. She begins slamming her hips down against you again, whining into the kiss. 

This time when you tug, you pull hard and the restraints fall with your wrists. Not wasting a second, you reach down and grip her waist finding her skin warm to the touch now. Rio leans into the touch, pressing her body down to yours as tight as possible.

“You feel so good, so warm,” you pant against her lips, nipping at her lower lip playfully as your hands slides to her backside. You indulge for a moment, squeezing to see her reaction; she groans, grinding her hips hard enough for the pressure to build up on your own clit, “Fuck, yes.”

Rio swallows your gasp, unable to keep her lips off yours. With your grip hard and secure, you help move her up and down, lifting your own hips up to meet her halfway. Your eagerness drives Rio crazy, warming her stomach with desire and adoration for you; she leans down whining against your lips, brushing over them every few seconds as you thrust into her.

“Wanna see you come,” you mumble incoherently, eyes wide with feral desire. All you have is one goal and that is to make her unravel before your eyes.

Rio groans possessively at that, sliding her tongue through your lips in a quick goodbye before she sits up again. She literally rips the corset still covering you, throwing it to the side. Her nails dig into your stomach as she holds for balance, keeping her hooded brown eyes locked to you. She’s close, you can tell by the faltering grinds, the moans bordering on whines, how her legs suddely weaken, allowing you to move her instead.

With quick movements, you let go of her backside and slide a hand between her legs. Your thumb presses at her clit, rubbing hard circles as she gasps, twitching on top of you. “Come for me,” you beg, “Please.”

“Say it,” Rio demands between gasps, hanging on by a thread.

You immediately know what she’s requesting and grip her hip tightly. “I’m yours, Rio.”

With your clear, certain words, Rio’s neck snaps back, body arching as she slams down onto your cock. You keep thrusting up, grinding into her and rubbing your thumb over her clit, watching with parted lips at the work of art on top of you. Her skin flushes as she reaches her high, red blooming over her chest, neck, those rosy cheeks.

You can’t help but lean up, ignoring the pain in your abdomen muscles at the stretch; you need your lips attached to her in some way. Your mouth finds her neck, sinking your teeth possessively; Rio’s hand curves around to the back of your neck to hold you tight against her, gasping, panting, barely able to utter a word, but her eagerness for you to stay is all the praise you need.

“Y/N, baby,” Rio moans, voice hoarse, hips twitching as your thumb decides to slow down and let her ride her way back down. Only when she tugs on your hair do you slide your thumb away, holding onto her ass instead to help her gently grind until she’s had enough.

Rio hums in satisfaction as she climbs off your lap, rolling until she’s lying by your side. She pulls you into her arms and you eagerly bury your face in her neck, letting her earthy scent melt over you. You refused to squirm despite the painful pulse of neglect between your thighs; you’re determined to take your punishment as is. Perhaps you’ll be rewarded tomorrow morning for it, or–

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your nest of hair, leaving a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you deserve a reward?” Rio asks, playfully nipping at your ear.

You can’t help but softly whimper at the teasing touch, already feeling her hand creeping up around your waist. “I deserve what you feel like giving.”

Perfect answer. You can tell from Rio’s wolf-like grin as she slithers down, leaving soft yet possessive kisses along your skin. She slows once she reaches your stomach, taking her time to mark you, claim you, making sure you have a reminder of who you belong to. The leather cock is long gone by now, thrown onto the floor as Rio undoes the harness with ease.

“Please,” you sigh, squirming up against her stomach, ensuring she can feel just how soaked you are for her. The warm slick pulls a groan from the depths of her throat. Rio scratches your sides on her way down until she reaches your thighs, tugging them over her shoulder. She takes no moment to observe, to tease, to lick the wetness around your inner thighs. No, Rio dives right in like a hungry wolf, unable to contain herself from slipping her tongue directly through to your inner walls.

You feel yourself immediately clamping down around her hot, expert tongue as she curls it, swirls, finding every spot to make you weak in her arms. You’ve been so worked up you’re already so close – which is likely why she’s avoided your throbbing clit. Letting her savour the moment, you arch your back and dig your fingers into her scalp, pushing her further into your wet core.

“God, I’m–Fuck, this is–” you stumble and stutter around, unable to form a coherent sentence, already seeing spots in your vision. The pleasure is searing, bordering painful from the edging, from her neglection, from the pressure of her pounding on top of you, “Rio, fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Rio hums against you in answer, the vibrations rushing straight through to your clit. It has you gasping, thighs tightening around her head. You’re worried for a moment on how she could possibly breathe down there but Rio simply growls hungrily, sliding her tongue out to lick through your slit, refusing to let a drop go to waste. 

Before you can protest, feeling so empty, Rio’s fingers replace her tongue, curling in deliciously hitting that spot that makes you see stars. She allows your thrown back head, allows you to groan and moan and thrust your hips up against her face, her fingers. Seeing you so free, taken with pleasure is an astonishing sight for her. 

“I wanna–Fuck, please, please make me come,” you moan out pathetically, your cheeks flushing in humiliation at how desperate you sound. But Rio lets out a sound, one that borders on painful and you glance down to look at her expression. She looks completely taken, her eyes blown wide, nothing but adoration and a deep desire in them. She looks just as desperate as you do when she flicks her tongue over your clit, sucking it into her mouth.

It’s that moment when she looks at you with darkened, powerful eyes that flash black, a colour you’ve never seen before in them. The fear mixed with the excitement of her power has you moaning like a whore, loud and high as you reach your climax. Rio’s right there to hold you through it, fucking her fingers through the wet tightness of your walls. 

She doesn’t stop, not until there are tears slipping down your cheeks as you push against her head. She marks her way back up again, leaving bright colours over your skin until she reaches your parted, panting lips. Rio doesn’t kiss you, just looks at you, looks through you. Her hand feels hot against your cheek, but it’s fleeting, as if you’re fragile and precious to her. 

The sound of footsteps catches your attention, forcing Rio to snap out of her hypnosis; she turns back to see Agatha standing by the door, leaning on the ledge with a smirk.

“Satisfied?”

Rio huffs in soft laughter, leaning back on the pillow with an arm stretched behind her head. “Very.”

Agatha hums, nodding as she steps forward. “Good,” the witch states, taking her time as she pulls the strings at the back of her dress, “It’s my turn. Let’s see if you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

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