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claramelooo · 7 days ago

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Woven Fates (7/???)

Well, well, well... I dunno what to say for this chapter hahahaha it was... Wow... To intense to write this.

I hope you can enjoy it! <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: Finally you seem to be finding your place.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Surrender

The silence of that morning seemed to have a life of its own—dense and enveloping, hanging like a veil over the breakfast table. You tried to focus on the slice of bread in your hands, but it was impossible to ignore their presence—Rio, relaxed as always, her eyes half-lidded as she took a lazy sip of coffee, and Agatha, meticulously stirring her drink with an almost lethargic air.

The world had changed, but only you seemed to know it. Since the night before, things between the three of you had taken on a different shade, charged with a meaning that made you blush at the smallest gesture. Words that once seemed banal now sounded like secrets wrapped in double meanings.

“You’re very quiet today.” Agatha’s voice cut through the air like a polished blade—smooth, yet sharp.

You lifted your eyes with effort, trying to force a smile. “Just thinking about some things from college.”

She tilted her head slightly, as if she had heard something interesting but didn’t want to show it openly. Her blue eyes—cutting and patient—swept over your face with uncomfortable precision.

“Something important?” Agatha questioned, her voice low, yet carrying an enigmatic tone.

“I think so,” you replied, your throat dry.

Rio let out a low, husky laugh but said nothing. She simply rested her coffee cup on the table with a soft sound, her long fingers lazily draped over the marble surface. There was something about her movements—something slow, too controlled to be innocent.

“You seem more… distracted than thoughtful, darling.” Rio finally broke the silence, her words light but dangerous. She didn’t look directly at you, just let the comment slip as she ran her tongue absentmindedly over her upper lip, as if savoring a taste that still lingered.

You tried to laugh, but the sound came out nervous, awkward. “I think I need better sleep.”

“Maybe.” Agatha smiled softly, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She lifted her coffee to her lips, taking a slow sip, as if savoring something beyond the drink. “But sometimes, sleep isn’t exactly what solves things.”

Your stomach turned. There was something in her words, something that slipped between meanings and left you in a state of uncomfortable alertness.

Rio leaned forward slightly, her posture relaxed but predatory, and spoke with her usual insolent calm. “It’s a shame, you know.”

“A shame?” you asked, not really wanting the answer.

She looked at you, finally. Her dark eyes gleamed with something that shouldn’t be there so early in the morning. “The best things happen while everyone’s asleep.”

You tried to focus on breathing, but it was as if the air in the room had suddenly grown too heavy. They were playing a game—one you didn’t fully understand yet but were undoubtedly a part of.

You were too focused on keeping your face from betraying the memory of what you had witnessed the night before—the desire you could still feel pulsing beneath your skin—when Rio broke the silence with such studied indifference that it only heightened your apprehension.

“So,” she began, leaning lazily into her chair, her fingers sliding over the cup’s handle with a touch so light it seemed almost absentminded, “who was the friend you met yesterday?”

Your heart jumped involuntarily. You blinked, surprised, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. “Friend?”

Rio arched an elegant eyebrow, a subtle smile forming at the corner of her lips, as if she were amused by your reaction. “I thought you had gone out.” She paused, letting the silence stretch between you. “And didn’t even tell us.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Agatha intervened before any words could come out. Her tone was calm, controlled, but there was an undertone to her words that made your spine stiffen.

“She doesn’t have to tell us everything, my love.” Agatha’s smile was slight, almost casual, but her eyes were far too sharp for the gesture to seem innocent. “Everyone is entitled to secrets, aren’t they?”

Secrets.

The word hung in the air like a sweet, insidious poison. You felt the heat rise to your face—hot, betraying—exposing your failed attempt at indifference.

“Of course.” Rio murmured slowly, as if weighing the validity of Agatha’s argument. Her dark eyes drifted over you, assessing, measuring. But then, her tone softened, a dangerous sweetness slipping into every syllable: “I just hope you had fun. You seemed a little… desperate last night.”

The word flowed through the air, making you swallow hard. Desperate? You were. After Rio touched you, after Agatha watched every second of it; after they ignored you and fucked intensely, calling your name.

Frustration burned in your throat, your wounded pride pulsing like an exposed wound. They were older, powerful, women the whole world admired. And yet, it was them who made you lose control. That should have driven you away. Should have made you afraid. But it only made you want them even more.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just went out with a friend.”

Agatha let out a low, drawn-out chuckle, as if she knew something you didn’t. Or worse—as if she knew exactly what you knew and was simply having fun with it. She rested her chin on her hand, her blue eyes piercing through you like blades. “And what did you do?”

The way she asked shouldn’t have made your skin burn, but it did. As if the answer didn’t matter, as if everything was already written and decided before you even opened your mouth.

“College work,” you replied, your voice weaker than you would’ve liked.

Rio laughed softly, her long fingers stirring the spoon inside her coffee cup. “College…” she repeated, savoring the word. “You’re so young, aren’t you, my sweet?”

Her laughter sounded almost affectionate, but it carried something dark, something that made your stomach twist. It wasn’t about youth. It was about you. About how, despite your age, despite your inexperience, you were already hopelessly entangled with them.

Your heart pounded, and you hated how your mind raced back to the feeling of Rio’s hand on your skin during the lecture, to Agatha’s possessive glances—to the overwhelming scene you had witnessed behind that slightly open door.

“Well, well…” Agatha’s murmur sliced through the air like a sharp blade. Her tone was soft, almost lazy, but the way her words dragged out felt like a warning. You felt the weight of her gaze settling on you, pulling your attention before you could even avoid it.

“Rio mentioned something about you wanting a job?”

Oh, not this again.

Your stomach twisted, and you lowered your head, feeling the heat rise to your face. The mere act of having to ask them for anything made an uncomfortable unease grow inside you. They were already so generous, so good. The last thing you wanted was to seem ungrateful. Or worse, a burden.

"Yes… Well…" Your voice came out hesitant, the words seeming too fragile to survive under the weight of that gaze.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her eyes assessing you as if she were taking apart your intentions, piece by piece.

"Aren’t you satisfied with your internship at the studio, dear?" The way she said it made your stomach clench. The "dear" was sweet on the surface, but there was something sharp lurking just beneath. "Many young people would kill for this opportunity."

Your chest sank, a cold weight spreading through your ribs.

"I'm loving the experience, Agatha, really." The words came out rushed, an anxious attempt to reassure her. "But—"

"But…" Agatha narrowed her eyes, a calculated and relentless gleam dancing in them. It was an invitation to continue, but instead of encouraging, her expectation crushed any confidence you might have had.

Your body tensed. You averted your gaze to some random point behind her, trying to draw courage from the void.

"Come on, little girl." Her tone was almost bored, but the ice behind those words sent a chill down your spine. "I don’t have all the time in the world."

Little girl. Fuck. Damn words.

You took a deep breath.

"I—" Your voice faltered for a moment. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for something solid to anchor your mind. Finally, you exhaled and forced the words out. "Well… The internship isn’t paid. And like this, I’ll never be able to rent an apartment." You concluded, feeling proud for a moment.

Agatha remained silent for an instant, her eyes fixed on you, sharp as if she were dismantling you piece by piece. She tilted her head slightly to the side, her fingers idly sliding over her wrist, as if analyzing the situation before deciding how to act.

"Ah…" She finally murmured, the corner of her lips curling slightly, but without any real trace of a smile. "So that's it."

You felt a knot form in your throat as you nodded slowly.

Rio, beside you, let out a short sigh and crossed her arms, chocolate-colored eyes sliding over you in a way that made your chest tighten.

"You never told us you wanted to move out." Rio's voice was low, almost a casual reminder, but you could sense the underlying weight in those words.

You averted your gaze, your hands instinctively clenching into fists at your sides.

"I… thought it was obvious," you said hesitantly. "I can’t live on charity forever."

Agatha let out a low, dry laugh and tilted her head as if genuinely surprised by your response.

"Charity?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what you think we’re giving you?"

You opened your mouth but hesitated. There was something in her eyes—a cold gleam, something that seemed both challenging and slightly irritated.

Agatha sighed, as if growing tired of the conversation. She adjusted her blazer, her nails sliding over the dark fabric before raising her gaze to you again.

"Rio mentioned you seemed worried about money," she said slowly, as if choosing her words with surgical precision. "That’s why she suggested an allowance."

Your chest tightened painfully. You felt the heat rush to your face—not from shyness, but something closer to indignation.

Allowance.

The word sounded like a slap.

As if you were a child. As if you were being pampered, taken care of, as if you had no real autonomy.

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to contain the wave of frustration.

"Wouldn’t that be special treatment?" Your voice came out firmer than expected, and you held Agatha’s gaze, despite the unease growing inside you. "Isn’t all of this already special treatment?"

The silence that followed was almost suffocating.

Agatha blinked slowly, as if savoring your words, as if she were about to dismantle them one by one.

Rio narrowed her eyes, her lips curving slightly in a half-smile that did nothing to ease the tension in the air.

"Watch your tone," Agatha said, her voice soft but as sharp as a blade. It wasn’t a shout, nor a suggestion. It was a warning—clear and precise—that made you shrink involuntarily. "You are here because we allow it. Because we saw something in you that might be worth shaping. But don’t be mistaken, dear. You are not irreplaceable."

Agatha's raw and cruel words sent a chill down your spine, but you didn’t back down. "I’m not asking to be irreplaceable. I just want to be treated like an adult."

Agatha laughed, a low, humorless sound, yet it carried a strange sweetness.

"Oh. An adult?" She leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, her eyes fixed on you as if dissecting your soul. "Adults don’t need allowances. Adults also don’t cry in the laps of strangers. But you did all that, didn’t you? What does that make you?"

The question reverberated in your mind like a cruel echo.

What does that make you?

A child.

Not because Agatha had said it out loud, but because she had made sure to show it. The way the word "adult" left her lips, laced with disdain, as if it were a fantasy you were trying to wear without deserving it. As if, at the slightest touch, that illusion would shatter, revealing what you really were.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up. The words died in your throat, and you felt a pang of embarrassment at how your posture wavered, almost imperceptibly.

Agatha didn’t wait for you to respond. Already out of patience and visibly irritated, she ran her tongue over her lips, as if tasting something invisible in the air. Then, she slightly pulled away from the table and adjusted the cuffs of her elegant coat.

"Unfortunately, I’m afraid our conversation must end here… I have things to handle at the studio. Saturday or not, there’s always work to do."

You sighed in defeat and nodded, not really knowing how to respond. The movement seemed to please her.

"Be a good girl for me, yes?" She added, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t fully decipher.

You swallowed hard. Asking what exactly she meant would sound ridiculous, so you remained silent. Your silence made her smile.

"See you later."

And then, Agatha was gone.

Leaving you alone with Rio.

The sound of the door closing echoed through the house. You realized you had been holding your breath and slowly let it out. Your eyes drifted to the woman in front of you, who absentmindedly spun the ring on her finger.

"Well," Rio murmured, leaning back in her chair like a satisfied feline, "looks like it’s just the two of us now."

Rio observed you for a moment, her eyes sliding over you with a kind of calculated tenderness. Then, as if wanting to ease the weight of the previous conversation, she smiled slightly and reached out, her cool fingers brushing your arm.

"You made Aggie mad." She said, almost amused, as if it were a small inconvenience rather than something still burning inside your chest.

You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. It was obvious that you had. Agatha never bothered to hide when something upset her—and today, you were that something.

"But don’t worry," Rio continued, her voice a striking contrast to Agatha’s harshness. "She never stays mad for too long."

That should have comforted you. But somehow, the fact that Rio was trying to reassure you only made the weight on your chest grow. As if, instead of pulling you away from Agatha’s suffocating grip, she was simply wrapping you in another kind of chain—soft, welcoming, but still a chain.

Rio tilted her head slightly, her fingers tracing a gentle circle on your arm before pulling away.

"She only wants what’s best for you," she said, and the way the phrase was spoken sounded like an undeniable truth, something unquestionable.

"We do."

The we.

A shiver ran up your spine.

You swallowed dryly, still feeling the shadow of Agatha’s words circling your mind, still hearing the echo of that cruel question.

What does that make you?

Rio smiled, her dark eyes filled with something both soft and impenetrable at the same time.

"Don't be so tense, darling. Let's do something to distract you, shall we?" she suggested, standing up and extending her hand to you. "Come."

A shiver ran up your spine. You couldn’t tell if what you felt was discomfort or excitement. Maybe both.

Rio didn’t seem in a hurry to fill the silence. On the contrary, she seemed to savor it. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, and a small smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

“Something wrong, little bunny?”

You opened your mouth, but no immediate answer came. You didn’t know if you wanted to run away or get closer. If you wanted to lose yourself in this game or keep your distance. But maybe you had no choice.

Because Rio didn’t seem willing to let you escape so easily.

The afternoon moved lazily after lunch, soft light filtering through the curtains as the world outside seemed to fade away. Rio appeared with a generous tub of ice cream and two spoons, her smile a mixture of mischief and affection. She shook the tub in your direction like it was an irresistible offer.

“Pick a movie,” she said casually, but with a peculiar glint in her eyes. “Today, you're in charge.”

You chose something light and charming—My Neighbor Totoro. A movie that always brought you comfort with its sweet and magical tones, even if it was a little childish. Rio didn’t seem to mind; on the contrary, she shrugged with relaxed acceptance. She hummed, settling beside you on the couch.

She let out a satisfied chuckle, adjusting herself and casually pulling your legs over hers. “Good choice. Aggie would find it too soft…” She scooped some ice cream and, without warning, brought the spoon to your lips. “Come on, open up.”

You hesitated for a second, but the way her eyes sparkled with amusement made you part your lips, accepting the creamy sweetness. Rio smiled, running her thumb over the corner of your mouth to wipe away a stray drop of ice cream, then licked her own finger as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

With every new spoonful, your mind seemed to sink into a lazy haze, like sinking into cotton. Your shoulders relaxed against her, your eyelids grew heavier. You felt good, protected, pampered in a way that shouldn’t have pleased you so much. Rio seemed to notice this, because her mischievous smile returned as she whispered, “Our little secret, right?”

You only nodded, your heart beating a little faster when you felt her lips brush lightly against your cheek. It was soft at first, just a timid touch, but Rio soon lost any hesitation.

As the minutes passed, Rio moved closer, invading your space with an unsettling ease. She nudged you lightly with her shoulder, laughing when you murmured a small complaint while trying to balance the ice cream tub without spilling it.

"Everything okay there, silly girl?" she teased, her fingers grazing your waist to tickle you ever so slightly.

You tried to answer, but you were already so relaxed that you just laughed in response. There was something hypnotizing about the way Rio spoiled you without hesitation—as if she were discovering a new kind of affection she hadn’t realized she craved so much.

"Good girl," she said with a playful smile, her eyes dancing with a fiery spark.

The world seemed to slip through your fingers as Rio pulled you even closer. She inhaled your scent discreetly, her nose brushing against the sensitive curve between your neck and shoulder. The gesture shouldn’t have felt so intimate, but heat spread through your belly too quickly, making your breath hitch.

As if wanting to savor the moment, she pressed wet, lingering kisses along your jawline. Every slow and deliberate touch made your body pulse, leaving you softer, lighter, more willing to surrender to her.

“Are you always like this?” Her voice was a soft, low growl, teasingly close to your ear. “So... delicious?”

You tried to laugh at her blatant flirting, but the sound got stuck in your throat, turning into something close to a desperate sigh. Your body felt like it was about to crumble under her skilled touch.

Rio didn’t stop. Her hands glided along your sides with an almost cruel slowness, as if mapping every inch of you. Every gesture was careful but also filled with possession, as if you were something she hadn’t known she could have but now refused to let go.

The heavy sigh against your skin made your heart stumble in your chest. Her voice came out husky, almost broken. “I never get this chance with Aggie…”

For a moment, it felt like a stray thought, a confession she hadn’t meant to say out loud. “But you... you let me.”

Those words wrapped around you, drowning out any attempt at rational thought. Her warm breath grazed your slightly parted lips, as if her mere proximity was stealing the air you needed. The gentle caress she gave your hair felt like it had a direct connection to your nervous system, relaxing you completely.

“You let me do whatever I want with you, don’t you?”

Before you could respond—or even think about denying it—her tongue flicked over the pulsing spot on your neck, followed by a strong suction that tore a helpless moan from your lips.

Your head fell back, eyes shut tight, body arching in an involuntary surrender. The air grew thick, charged with something deeper, something beyond any physical touch could explain.

Giving yourself to Rio wasn’t just a carnal act; it was a kind of unraveling of your own will, as if every fiber of your being was crying out for the dominance she offered without asking.

Rio, with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to destroy someone for pleasure, didn’t waste the opportunity. Her mouth trailed along the exposed expanse of your neck with a hunger that made your skin burn, each kiss, lick, and bite leaving invisible marks that pulsed like a signature carved into your flesh.

She let out a low growl, satisfied, pressing her hips against yours. “Because you’re my good girl.”

Those damned words. Again.

They cut through you like a sharp blade, carving out space for something you could no longer contain.

You gasped in surprise, your body trembling under the corrosive intensity of that declaration. Because the unbearable truth was simple: yes, you wanted to be that. You wanted to be exactly what she said—and maybe something even worse.

Rio's hand trailed down your side with a light touch, almost as if testing the limits of your consent. You felt the fabric of your shirt slowly rise as her fingers advanced, each movement a calculated tease. And when her warm palm finally found the curve of your breast, your whole body shuddered in response.

The soft touch quickly became something bolder. Her fingers moved to your nipple, teasing it with slow, torturous circles that made you gasp. Your body stiffened, shocked by the intimate gesture.

"Rio, what—" Your voice came out weak, almost trembling, your mind desperately trying to regain some semblance of control.

But she only answered by pinching your nipple firmly, precisely, drawing a strangled sigh from your lips. Heat surged through your body in hot waves, pulsing intensely between your legs.

"You don’t want this, sweetheart?" she whispered in a low, husky voice, thick with a desire that seemed to consume her entirely. Her teeth grazed the delicate curve of your ear, sending another irresistible shiver down your spine.

Your skin felt electrified, every touch heightening your sensitivity. You tried to open your mouth to respond, but the words got lost in the haze of stimulation she inflicted on you without mercy.

Her lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses along the side of your neck, while her fingers continued to toy with your hardened nipple, sliding like soap between her fingers—pressing, pinching, teasing.

It was too much.

"You're squirming all over, sweetheart, and I wonder why." Rio mused, her voice like sweet poison dripping into your ears. "I hope it's not because you love this, is it?"

She turned her attention to your other breast, already taut from arousal. You heard her let out a small whimper with her mouth still against your neck. “Doing this with a married woman… That would be wrong, wouldn't it, little one?”

Her other hand guided you on top of her, making your ass press deliciously against her cunt. Rio moaned, pressing you down even harder.

And you were completely at her mercy, incapable of denying the intensity of the pleasure she pulled from you with meticulous touches, calculated to push you to the edge of desperation.

“I-I'm sorry,” you rasped, your voice thick with false regret.

You felt Rio’s smile against your neck, her warm lips sending shivers down your spine like an electric current. She let out a low, husky chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your heart race.

Her hands continued to explore your body with a mix of devotion and possessiveness, as if each touch was an affirmation that you belonged to her—at least in that moment.

"Are you apologizing for being such a naughty girl?" Rio whispered, her voice dripping with pleasure and taunting amusement. Her teeth grazed your nape, and you trembled involuntarily on top of her, as if every nerve in your body was waking up to her touch.

"Say it... Say it, little girl," she ordered, but the firmness in her voice faltered as her hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer.

You felt the heat of her body against yours, the press of her breasts against your own, and the aching need between your legs became unbearable.

"S-sorry for being such a naughty girl," you murmured, your voice shaky as you started grinding slowly on her lap.

Rio groaned, her hands gripping your waist as if trying to keep control, but you could tell she was losing the battle against her own desire.

Her hips rolled against yours, and even through the fabric, you could feel her wetness, which only heightened your own arousal.

"Fuck," she growled, yanking your hair back with a force that made you gasp. The pain was sharp, but laced with a pleasure that made you dizzy.

Her lips crashed against yours in a messy, desperate kiss—full of teeth and hunger. It was wild, reckless, and you could barely think.

The kiss was rough at first, clumsy, as if both of you were so eager that you couldn't quite align. Your lips moved with a frantic urgency that made your heart pound, and you felt her teeth scrape against yours, a mix of pain and pleasure that made you even weaker.

When you tried to take control, running your tongue along her lips, Rio let out a low growl, surrendering completely.

Your tongues met in a frenzied rhythm, exploring, fighting, dancing. Hers was hot, insistent, and you tasted her—a mix of wine and vanilla ice cream.

She dominated you but let you take charge for brief moments, as if testing you, pushing you to go deeper. You felt her breath quicken, her muffled moans against your mouth, and it only made you want more.

"You're so fucking perfect," she murmured against your lips, her hands slipping inside your shorts, finding the growing wetness between your thighs. Both of you moaned at the same time, the sound echoing through the room as the sexual tension reached an unbearable peak.

Her hand was firm yet gentle, as if she knew exactly how to touch you to bring you to the edge. Her fingers explored you with precision, making your body tremble, your legs weak as if they could no longer hold you up.

Rio noticed and held you tighter, her lips now on your neck, nibbling and sucking, leaving marks you knew would last.

She let out a deep, satisfied chuckle, almost like a purr. Her fingers moved with deliberate pressure, finding the slick heat between your thighs. "Ah, my gem…" she whispered against your ear, nibbling your lobe with delicious cruelty. "This wet for me?"

The sound of her husky laughter made your stomach tighten, while your mind struggled to process the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

You whimpered in desperation, gasping under her touch, which left a trail of fire in its wake. "Please…" You didn’t know if you were begging her to stop or to keep going.

Rio didn’t stop. She barely gave you time to catch your breath before crashing her lips onto yours again, this time even hungrier.

She tasted hot and electric, like every brush of her lips sent a shockwave through your body. You felt completely strung tight, every cell in your body pulsating with a need you never imagined feeling.

Her hand, already firm against your throbbing heat, now moved with a clear intention, rubbing with a pressure that made you choke on your own breath. Your panties were soaked, and Rio knew it; she felt it, controlled it, fed off your vulnerability.

"That’s it, kitten… Be good. Be good for me," she murmured against your lips, her voice deep and languid as if intoxicated by the moment.

Her other hand slid under your shirt without hesitation, finding the soft skin of your breast. Skilled fingers teased your nipple with a sharp pinch, dragging a loud moan from you, almost a sob.

Your body arched involuntarily, seeking more of her, as if you couldn’t exist without her touch anymore. "Rio…" you whispered, your voice breaking between pleasure and confusion, trying to say something coherent but failing miserably.

She didn’t answer. Instead, her lips trailed down to the curve of your neck, leaving wet kisses and soft bites, each one burning like embers.

Her scent—a mix of desire and something intoxicating—filled your senses, making it impossible to think about anything else but this, right here, right now.

When her fingers slipped under the damp fabric of your panties, touching your bare, pulsing heat, you lost all control. You moaned loudly, not caring about anything anymore, the sound filling the space around you.

"That’s it, sweetheart… Let me hear you," Rio growled, her voice thick with lust.

Your hips instinctively moved, grinding against her touch, seeking more friction, more contact.

Her fingers now pressed firm, yet teasing, tracing slow, deliberate circles. Every movement was calculated, as if she knew exactly how to make you moan louder, tremble harder.

You were burning, completely surrendered, while pleasure built up inside you, consuming every inch of your body. "I—Please…" you whimpered between incoherent moans, not even sure what you were begging for—only that you needed her, all of her, and even more.

Rio seemed just as consumed as you. Her movements were desperate, as if she too was being devoured by the same fire that raged inside you. Her moans mixed with yours as she guided you deeper into an abyss of intoxicating pleasure.

Rio seemed to be in a trance, lost between low moans and incoherent murmurs. "You have no idea… how long… I've wanted this..." Her voice was hoarse, every word laced with a long-repressed desire, as if she wasn’t fully aware of what she was saying. "This was killing me."

Before you could even process those erratic confessions, her fingers finally slipped inside your panties, finding your swollen, throbbing clit. The direct touch made you gasp violently, your entire body tensing as unbearable heat radiated from your core.

"Rio…" You tried to speak, but the sound came out more like a fragmented moan, barely recognizable even to yourself.

She pressed her fingers more firmly, rubbing in slow circles, as if wanting to prolong the moment until you completely lost control. Both of your bodies trembled at the same time—she felt every pulse of yours, and it only seemed to fuel the insatiable hunger burning in her half-lidded eyes.

"You were waiting for this, weren’t you?" Rio murmured against your neck, nipping at the already sensitive skin as she continued her skilled movements.

You had touched yourself before, exploring your own pleasure, but this was different. That wild intensity, the absolute dominance Rio had over you, made every touch devastating. Your hips started moving on their own, chasing more of that maddening friction.

But then, amid the whirlwind of sensations, a distant part of your mind tried to resist, to remember something—someone.

"Agatha…" The name slipped past your lips before you could stop it, but it didn’t come out as a warning or a rational reminder. No, it sounded more like a needy moan, filled with longing and confusion.

Rio froze for a second, and you feared she might stop. But instead, something dark awakened in her. Her brown eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as she smiled wickedly, her lips wet and slightly parted.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Rio growled, her voice dripping with something even deeper. "You're still thinking about her, aren’t you? You wanted her to be here?" She bit your shoulder hard, making you cry out in pain. "—Huh?"

She pressed, her fingers now firmer, faster, as if punishing you for mentioning her wife’s name. "Do you want her to see you in my lap like the perfect little baby you are?"

Guilt rooted itself inside you like a choking weed, suffocating, inevitable. It didn’t come as a sudden weight, but as a persistent whisper, sliding through your mind, your veins, your skin.

What does that make you?

Agatha’s voice echoed, low, cutting, numbing. You tried to push it away, but the truth was you didn’t want to. Because along with the shame, along with the crushing weight of the disappointment you knew you had caused her, came something else. Something even more overwhelming.

Need.

It burned in your core, throbbing and relentless. The need to see her. To apologize. To hear her voice telling you that everything was okay, that you were still good enough. That you were still theirs.

Rio knew. She always knew.

You tried to respond, but the words were lost amid the moans spilling from your mouth. Rio didn’t stop, her fingers now moving at an unrelenting pace, while her other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place.

Her fingers slid inside you, deep and firm, while her thumb continued stimulating your clit. The combination was almost too much, and you felt your legs tremble, your body writhing under her touch.

"It feels so tight in here, bunny," she groaned, voice strained as if she were holding back.

"Agatha…" The name escaped again, but this time it was a long, drawn-out moan, filled with desire and need.

Rio laughed, a low, husky sound, as she picked up the pace, her fingers moving in fast, insistent strokes.

"That’s it, moan her name," she ordered, her voice dripping with pleasure and possessiveness. "But know that it’s me making you feel this. Me pushing you over the edge."

And you were right there, every movement, every touch, every word dragging you closer to the breaking point. Rio knew it, and she used it to her advantage, her fingers and words pulling you into a state of bliss you could barely endure.

Rio leaned in, her breasts pressing against yours, and you inhaled her scent—woody, intense, just like Agatha’s. It was deliberate. Everything was deliberate.

"You think you can satisfy us both?" She whispered, her lips almost brushing yours. "Think you can handle it?"

Before you could answer, she increased the rhythm again, her fingers moving in precise, rapid circles, while her other hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing lightly against your pulse.

"We're not letting you out of this. Fuck. You're not getting out of this," she growled as you felt her grind her hips against your ass. "You’re ours. Mine. Hers. Got it?"

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t understand. Your body arched, muscles tense like violin strings about to snap.

"Agatha... Rio... Please—" You didn’t even know what you were begging for, but they knew.

"I’m right here," Rio moaned, her own hips moving against your leg, revealing that she was just as close. "I want to hear you scream our names when you come."

Her voice cracked, her mask of control fracturing for just a moment, and you realized how much she needed this—needed you, Agatha’s complicity, the corruption the three of you were weaving together.

And then you fell.

The orgasm ripped through your body like wildfire, violent and uncontrollable, your screams swallowed by Rio’s devouring kiss. She drank in every sound, every tremor, as if she wanted to steal even your breath. But you felt something else—her fingers trembling, her body shaking against yours.

Your limbs felt heavy, as if submerged in a thick, unknown ocean. Your breathing was short, uneven, and a strange exhaustion weighed on your chest—not just fatigue, but something deeper, something that made your body feel fragile and vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain.

Rio noticed. Of course, she did.

She didn’t say anything immediately. She just slid her hands over your back in a slow, lazy caress, as if trying to soothe every fiber of your being. Her fingers traced slow circles over your skin, moving down to the curve of your waist and back up again, the touch warm and grounding.

"You were so good for me," Rio murmured, her voice low and satisfied. The tip of her nose brushed against your temple, and she pressed a soft kiss there. "But now you're exhausted, aren’t you, little girl?"

You tried to deny it, to open your mouth and respond, but all that came out was a trembling sigh, a small sound you barely recognized as your own.

Rio smiled. A slow, knowing smile, but there was something in her eyes—something different. A quiet pride mixed with… tenderness?

Before you could process anything, she was already moving. With almost irritating ease, Rio pulled you against her chest, adjusting your body effortlessly, as if taking care of you like this was second nature.

"Shh," she murmured, her fingers now gliding through your hair, untangling the strands with patience. "You don’t have to worry about anything right now. Just let go."

You wanted to protest, to say you were fine, but the truth was, the weight of exhaustion wrapped around you like a thick blanket, making your mind slow, your thoughts scattered.

Rio’s voice blended into your thoughts, as if she were somehow inside your head, whispering pretty words you didn’t even know the meaning of.

Her touch was a sedative. The warmth of her body, the safety of her arms, the lazy kisses she pressed to your forehead and cheek. Everything was an invitation to surrender.

Rio sighed against your hair, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. "Are you always this small, or do you only seem like it when you’re like this… giving yourself to me?"

You felt her laughter vibrate against you, as if she were amused at your expense, but there was something more. Something deeper, heavier.

Then you realized you were on top of her, part of your face buried in her breasts, while your arms held her tightly—like you were afraid she’d leave you.

That she’d abandon you.

“My perfect girl,” Rio repeated, silencing your thoughts with a warm kiss on your forehead. Her voice was lower this time, as if she were speaking to herself. “Don’t overthink.”

Sleep came before you could answer.

And Rio stayed there, holding you firmly, her hand lazily sliding over your back, her touch constant—persistent. As if making sure that every part of you still belonged to her.

[...]

You woke up with your body heavy, exhausted in a way you had never felt before. As if every part of you was drained, emptied. Your mind was hazy, your limbs lethargic. Your first instinct was to curl further into the sheets, to seek the warmth that had surrounded you before, but the space beside you was empty.

The scent was the first thing you noticed.

Dense, warm, familiar.

This wasn’t your room.

The mattress beneath you was softer, the sheets carried an intoxicating fragrance—something sophisticated and slightly sweet—a blend of amber, incense, and something that reminded you of leather. A scent that seeped into your mind, making you even dizzier.

Their room.

You woke up in their bed.

The shock washed over you slowly, like a tide rising. The space around you was larger than your own bedroom. A shiver ran through your body as you remembered what you had seen—how they loved each other wildly, the kisses exchanged, the looks filled with years of intimacy. It was like watching a forbidden film, something you were never meant to see, but now it was burned into your mind, impossible to erase.

And then, you remembered.

You and Rio, in the living room.

Rio touching you as if you belonged to her, as if you were an extension of her, something she could mold and control at will.

Your body still carried the echo of her touch, as if her fingers had left invisible marks on your skin. You turned in bed, feeling the weight of the sheet over you, and tried to organize your thoughts. But they were tangled, mixed with the scent of the room, with the memories that wouldn’t stop resurfacing, with the feeling that you had crossed a line from which there was no return.

You forced yourself up, feeling your muscles contract from the extreme fatigue. With light steps, you left the room, glancing around as the hallway light hit your eyes, making you blink against the discomfort.

Descending the stairs, you noticed how empty the mansion felt. What time was it, anyway? Had you really slept that long? You heard two familiar voices and approached with almost fearful steps.

“She thinks she can speak however she wants now?” Agatha’s voice was sharp, carrying a silent venom, as if she were still savoring the audacity you had shown earlier. “Seems like we’re being too generous.”

“You should’ve seen her, love,” Rio said, amused, her tone dripping with lazy pride. “She was so fragile afterward. So receptive. I think our little girl learned her lesson.”

Agatha’s silence was brief but noticeable.

“I tamed our little wild thing,” Rio continued, and you could almost see her bright smile, confident, basking in her victory. “Now you need to calm down too, huh?”

Agatha scoffed. “I am calm.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Rio teased, a playful lilt in her voice, as if she could see right through the other woman.

You closed your eyes, your face burning with shame.

They were talking about you. About what they had done to you.

Your chest rose and fell with a trembling breath. You should go in there, you should say something. But you stayed put.

“Oh. I can’t believe you’re going to be the mean mommy.”

The word lodged itself into your mind like a shard of glass.

Mommy.

Rio said it so casually, as if she hadn’t just turned your reality upside down. The silence that followed was so thick you could almost feel it pressing against your chest.

And then, Agatha responded—but her voice was lower this time, drawn out.

“Don’t start with that.”

Rio just laughed.

And you left the hallway almost stumbling over your own feet, the air caught in your lungs like you were suffocating. Their scent still clung to your skin, to your clothes, and Rio’s words echoed in your mind—the mean mommy.

What was that supposed to mean?

The kitchen was a silent refuge, a space where you could pretend, at least for a few minutes, that you had control over something. You grabbed a knife without thinking too much, your fingers tightening around the handle as you started cutting ingredients with quick, precise movements.

Cooking had always calmed you. A mechanical, logical process. Something you could control.

And you needed to feel in control.

But the illusion didn’t last long.

Soft footsteps echoed across the wooden floor, and soon, voices followed behind you.

“Hmm,” Rio murmured with an audible smile, holding Lucky in her arms, the cat completely unaware of the tension. “The little kitchen rat strikes again.”

You didn’t look at them, keeping your focus on what you were doing. But then came the dragged sound of a chair being pulled. And Agatha’s voice, low and slightly irritated.

“Put the knife in the sink.”

The command was firm, dry.

Your jaw tightened.

“I’m not a child,” you muttered, cutting the vegetables with more force than necessary. “I lived alone for years. I know how to cook, I know how to take care of myself.”

“Do you?” Agatha taunted. “Because what I see is a stubborn little girl playing with sharp objects.”

You turned abruptly to face her, the knife still in your hand, your eyes blazing.

“Why do you always do this?” Your voice trembled with frustration. “Treat me like I’m… small?”

Agatha didn’t answer immediately. She just observed you, her blue eyes analyzing every detail of your face, as if trying to decipher something even you didn’t understand. Then, she laughed. A low, humorless sound.

“Because you are small.”

The words burned your skin like a sting. Your fists clenched, anger mixing with something you couldn’t name.

“And little girls who disrespect their guardians need to be punished.”

That was the breaking point.

You lunged at Agatha, tears of fury spilling from your eyes.

"You are not my mother!" You lunged at her, pounding your fists against the woman's shoulders, sobbing uncontrollably.

Your fists hit her shoulders, weak and desperate, your whole body trembling. The tears fell uncontrollably, and you sobbed between the blows.

Agatha grabbed your wrists, firm but not hurting you. You tried to break free, tried to fight against her, but the weight of exhaustion and overstimulation made you crumble.

Your knees buckled.

And then you clung to her.

Your hands found the hem of her expensive linen shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tightly it wrinkled. You sobbed against her, your face pressed into her chest, the words slipping out between broken cries.

“You’re not her…” Your voice was weak, shattered.

Your arms wrapped around Agatha’s neck, your body seeking hers with a need you couldn’t understand. You held onto her tightly, almost desperately, your fingers clutching her blouse like she was the only solid thing in your unstable world.

You trembled.

The weakness that was once physical had now become emotional and mental.

Agatha froze for a moment. You felt it. As if even she hadn’t expected this.

But then, her hands found your body—firm and certain, holding you back.

And in that moment, in that safe and dominant warmth, the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

“…Mommy.”

It was a whisper. A thread of a voice so small that, for a moment, you weren’t sure if you had actually said it out loud.

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with a tension that felt almost tangible. You felt Agatha’s body tense, as if she were processing that word, that involuntary confession.

And then, slowly, her hands began to move. One slid up to your nape, fingers weaving into your hair, while the other trailed down to your back, pressing you even closer. The scent of white jasmine, so characteristic of her, wrapped around you, comforting you.

“Shh,” you felt Rio approach slowly, drawing large circles on your back. “Breathe for us, sweetheart.”

Rio’s voice was soft, almost melodic, as if she were trying to hypnotize you. You tried to obey, dragging in air with difficulty, feeling your chest burn with each inhale. But their hands were there, firm and steady, guiding you, keeping you anchored.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured, her lips nearly brushing your ear. “Nice and slow. You’re safe now.”

You wanted to believe her. Wanted, more than anything, to believe that this was real, that you could surrender completely and that they would be there to catch you. But a part of you still resisted, still clung to that illusion of control.

“I… I don’t know…” you stammered, the words spilling out in fragments, as if your mind couldn’t form complete sentences.

“You don’t have to know, love,” Rio replied, her voice so close that you could feel the warmth of her breath against your nape. “You just have to trust.”

And then, without warning, you felt your feet leave the ground. Agatha lifted you with an ease that seemed almost supernatural, her strong arms cradling you as if you weighed nothing. Rio was beside you, one hand supporting your back, as the two carried you toward their bedroom.

You didn’t fight. You had no strength to. Instead, you let yourself be taken, your body limp and exhausted, your mind clouded by a haze of emotions you couldn’t name.

Their bedroom was a sanctuary of luxury and comfort, with a massive, plush bed at its center, covered in silk sheets that gleamed under the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Agatha placed you in the middle of the bed with care, as if you were something precious and fragile, while Rio pulled the blankets up to cover you.

“Here,” Rio murmured, sitting beside you and threading her fingers through your hair. “You’re exhausted, little one. Rest.”

You tried to respond, but the words came out as a meaningless murmur, as if your mind was too overloaded to form coherent thoughts.

“Shh,” Agatha whispered, settling on the other side of the bed and placing a hand on your face. “Don’t speak, darling.”

And you relaxed. Not because you wanted to, but because you had no choice. Her body was warm and solid beside you, and her touch was firm yet gentle, as if she knew exactly what you needed.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart.” Rio continued, her voice low but carrying an authority that left no room for question. “Let go.”

You felt the tears burning behind your eyelids, but this time, you didn’t try to hold them back. They fell freely, dampening the silk pillow as you clung to them like they were the only thing keeping you upright.

And deep down, you knew that maybe they were.

Rio lay down beside you, her arms sliding around your body in an embrace that was both comforting and oppressive. Her warmth pressed against you, her slow and steady breaths ghosting over your skin.

Her scent—cinnamon and sandalwood—mixed with Agatha’s jasmine, creating a dense and enveloping haze. You felt small between them. Small, exhausted… and, for the first time, safe.

Gradually, your sobs subsided, replaced by ragged breaths. Your body still trembled, but the weight of exhaustion was beginning to pull you into an irresistible lull.

Above you, Agatha took a deep breath, as if about to say something, but hesitated.

The silence stretched, and then…

“M-mommy will… will take care of everything.”

Her voice was hesitant, almost strained. As if the words had been ripped from a place deep inside her, a place she didn’t want to admit existed.

But there it was.

The arms around you tightened just a little more.

The scent, the warmth, the feeling of belonging to something, even just for a moment…

It was the last thing you felt before succumbing to sleep.

~*~

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