#rio remarks

[rusalkaandtheshepherdgirl]

passing these out to the class with little candies and stickers

[sapphicpixxiedreamgirl]

Sorry to my future gf because she will have to deal with the fact that I will forever be completely and irrevocably in love with Aubrey Plaza

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Guns N' Roses - Sweet Child O' Mine [Rock in Rio BR - 1991 - First Night 

[maudeboggins]

dolores del rio in bird of paradise

[tenth-sentence]

The rapidity of the current, which in its whole course runs at the rate of from four to six knots an hour, is perhaps its most remarkable feature.

"Journal of Researches into the Natural History and Geology of the Countries Visited During the Voyage of H.M.S. Beagle Round the World, 1832-36" - Charles Darwin

[agatharkn3ss]

Nicky's Rio son too.

I feel there were so many lines that imply this and the finale is starting to make more sense - especially because the dandelion in the trial!

Jen explains that Green Craft™ is about the cycle of all living things - growth and decay in constant flow. So it's not just about dying but being born too.

So it would track that Rio's love for Agatha was so strong that it actually created life - Nicky. However, there would be consequences to this because proper balance had to be maintained somehow. Rio probably even warned Agatha about it, but Agatha always believes she is above the rules so in her head she probably thought she had every right to Nicky (maybe even her "prize" that she alludes to in their final confrontation). This would really add to Rio's hurt - Nicky was her son too. She thought she was giving Agatha a gift of life, but instead Agatha sees her as this cruel "evil" that "gave her nothing". To her Rio is the one who just "took."

It feels like it is also implied by Rio at the start of the episode when she says "This walk with another woman's son on a road that doesn't...". She could be referring to Nicky being her son.

But I think Agatha finally accepts her truth during the final trial when she sees the dandelion seed in her cameo. She even says "Out of Death - life" as she grows it because she finally understands the literal implications of that phrase.

That Dandelion is representation of Nicky. And sure enough, as soon as the flower grows and blossoms, it quickly enters the final stage - when it turns into the seeds that can be scattered by the wind again and continue the cycle of life. Because guess what, "dandelions produce seeds asexually by apomixis, where the seeds are produced without pollination, resulting in offspring that are genetically identical to the parent plant".

When Nicky is born, we could probably assume it was indeed asexual reproduction - Agatha says she didn't use a spell or incantation, but instead he was made from scratch (obviously a clever nod to his name). On one hand it could be read like Agatha is astonished how something this magical could happen without actually using any witchcraft. However, this also feels like a suggestion that maybe she is just amazed at how he could possibly exist. Kathryn Hahn in her recent interview alluded to how the witches didn't need men, babies were just born. So it was Rio's "dandelion seed" that made it happen.

It is the second characteristic of dandelion species is what seals the deal for me - "the offspring being genetically identical to the parent plant". Nicky as the offspring of Death needs bodies to survive in this realm. During his birth Rio says she can offer only time, because she can maintain the balance, as long as Nicky gets his bodies.

That's why she hates Rio and calls her evil - not because of Rio herself, but because of what her "genetics" did to Nicky. Agatha would rather have people believe that she is this evil witch killer that traded her child for the Darkhold, than anyone to know the awful truth that it was Nicky who was the cause of the killings.

In the flashbacks, there are those remarks about how they haven't "eaten for days" and that whenever Nicky was poorly he said he was hungry. Agatha said she couldn't create the food for him (and protect him from what's coming). She could've cooked that goat they had with them if they were really that hungry (btw, I still believe that goat is Senor Scratchy), but that wasn't the "food" that Nicky meant.

And just like Billy, Rio couldn't just take Nicky. He had to "turn himself in". It was his choice not to kill any more witches. On the day Nicky dies, he says "My mother needs me home". I think he is talking about Rio here, since he usually calls Agatha "Mama". This is the moment the decides for himself and goes home to Death.

I feel like this opens the possibility that we will indeed see Nicholas Scratch in the future (and have a role similar to the one in the comics). That maybe even he might not have "died" because he is an offspring of death, so he just exists in some Underworld realm, where he no longer needs bodies to survive. Maybe Agatha might have hoped that by killing more and more witches, she will bring Nicky back to life/this realm?

And the Ballad really was a protection spell she made for him too?

This would also be a more plausible explanation why Agatha went to kiss Rio when Billy asked "Is this how Nicky died?". I feel this was more of an apology to Rio for hating her for Nicky's treatment, because she finally understood why she had to do it?

[rusalkaandtheshepherdgirl]

has anyone done this yet

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

You Should Have Listened

Soft Mommy!Agatha Harkness x Mean Daddy!Rio Vidal x bratty!fem!reader

Word count: 2.5K words

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation, Power Play, Orgasm Denial/Control, Degradation, Consensual Non-Consent (CNC), Choking (Light Breath Play), Rough Handling, Punishment Kink, Brat Taming

Authors notes: My first time writing Rio and she'll be added to my list of characters I'll write for~

The tension in the air was thick, simmering with the consequences of your behavior throughout the day. You'd been testing their patience from the moment you woke up—snarky remarks, sly smirks, brushing off their warnings with a flippant attitude.

Agatha’s eyes, usually calculating and sharp, were now darker, and her lips curled into a smile that promised retribution. Rio, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling at all. The quiet intensity in her gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Is this how you want to end your day?” Rio’s voice was low, dangerously calm, her brown eyes narrowing on you from across the room. She stood with her arms crossed, muscles tense beneath her tailored suit, exuding a dominant energy that made your heart race. Her presence commanded authority, and you could tell she was done playing your games.

Agatha, perched elegantly on the arm of a chair, tilted her head, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. “You’ve been quite the little brat today, haven’t you?” she purred, her voice laced with dark amusement. “I think it’s time you learned some respect.” Her smile widened as she looked at Rio. “Don’t you agree, darling?”

Rio’s jaw clenched as she stepped closer, towering over you. “I’ve had enough,” she growled, her voice dripping with authority. “You’ve been begging for this all day, and now you’re going to get exactly what you deserve.”

Before you could respond, Rio’s hand was around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind you who was in charge. “On your knees,” she ordered, her eyes daring you to disobey.

You hesitated for a fraction of a second, testing the limits just once more. But that was all it took for Rio to tighten her grip slightly, her eyes blazing with warning. “Now.”

Your knees hit the floor, heart pounding in your chest. Agatha’s soft laughter echoed through the room as she watched the scene unfold, clearly enjoying every moment. “Good girl,” she cooed, her voice condescending as she stood up, walking over to stand beside Rio.

“You’ve been playing games, little one,” Agatha said, her fingers trailing along your jaw as she circled around you. “But now? Now we get to play our game.”

Rio’s hand moved from your throat, grabbing your chin to force you to look up at her. “And trust me,” she said, voice rough with restrained anger, “you’re not going to enjoy it nearly as much as we will.”

This was the consequence of pushing them too far. And deep down, as much as you feared what was to come, you knew part of you had been craving this all along.

With Rio the punishments were long and harsh. So the moment the words, "I think since she wants it so badly maybe we should overstimulate her?" Came out of her mouth to Agatha you were squirming.

The moment Rio's words hung in the air, your stomach twisted with anticipation. Overstimulation. You knew exactly what that meant, and your body reacted immediately, squirming under their combined gaze. A nervous whimper slipped from your lips as Rio’s grip on your chin tightened, her eyes dark with intent.

Agatha’s laugh was soft and cruel, sending shivers down your spine. She walked around you slowly, her heels clicking against the floor, creating an echo that only intensified the tension. "Oh, I like that idea," Agatha purred, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Since she’s been such a brat, it’s only fair we give her exactly what she’s been asking for… more than she can handle.”

You could already feel the heat building within you, the fear and desire twisting together in a way that made it hard to breathe. Rio’s expression was unreadable, her face set in a hard line as she watched you struggle. There was no softness in her now—just the unyielding force of her authority. She had warned you, given you chances to behave, and now it was time to pay the price.

"Look at her," Agatha said, amusement dancing in her voice as she came to stand behind you, her fingers trailing down your back teasingly. "Already squirming and we haven’t even touched her properly yet.”

Rio’s lips curled into a small, dangerous smile as she knelt in front of you, her face inches from yours. “You wanted to push us all day. And now that you’ve got our attention, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.”

Without warning, Agatha’s hand slid into your hair, pulling your head back roughly, exposing your neck. “No more of your little games,” she whispered into your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s our turn.”

Rio’s eyes flicked up to Agatha’s, a silent exchange passing between them before she turned her full attention back to you. “We’re going to take you apart, piece by piece,” Rio said, her voice low and authoritative. “And you’re going to take it, every last bit of it. No whining, no begging for it to stop.”

Agatha’s grip on your hair tightened as she forced you to look at Rio. “She’ll beg,” Agatha said with a smirk. “But we won’t be listening, will we?”

Your heart raced, the reality of your punishment sinking in. Rio’s hands were already trailing down your body, her touch firm but calculated. The sensation sent electric pulses through you, and you tried to hold still, knowing how much worse it would be if you squirmed too much. But the moment Rio’s hand slipped between your thighs, teasingly light at first, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“She’s already soaked,” Rio said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Guess she really does want this.”

“Of course she does,” Agatha cooed, her tone mocking as she let go of your hair and moved to kneel behind you. She pressed her body against yours, her breath ghosting over your neck as her hands roamed your sides. “She can pretend all she wants, but deep down, this is exactly what she craves. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Rio’s touch, but Agatha didn’t seem to need a reply. Her teeth grazed your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” she whispered. “We’ll make sure you get exactly what you deserve… over and over again.”

And with that, Rio’s fingers pressed harder, slipping inside you, slow at first but deep. You moaned, your body tensing under the sudden intrusion, but it was only the beginning. Rio’s dark eyes locked onto yours, her gaze never wavering as she set a pace that was relentless, her fingers moving in a rhythm designed to push you closer to the edge.

Agatha’s hand snaked around your waist, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin while her lips found the sensitive spot on your neck. “No holding back now,” she murmured, her voice a dangerous promise. “You’re going to give us everything.”

The pleasure built quickly, too quickly, and you found yourself struggling to breathe, your body teetering on the brink. But just as you were about to fall over that edge, Rio stopped, pulling her hand away with a smirk as you gasped in frustration.

"Not yet," she said darkly. "We’re just getting started.”

A frustrated whine slipped from your throat, your body shaking with the denial of release. Agatha chuckled darkly behind you, her breath hot against the back of your neck as her hand wandered lower, fingers ghosting just over the spot where you needed her most.

"You’re going to learn patience," Agatha whispered, her voice a mixture of menace and playfulness. "You’ve been so eager, so desperate for attention all day. Now we’ll give it to you��but not in the way you want."

Rio leaned back slightly, still kneeling in front of you, her dark eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as she watched you squirm. “I told you,” she said, her voice steady and firm, “you’re not getting out of this until we decide you’ve had enough.” Her fingers teased your inner thighs, dangerously close but never giving you the satisfaction of more.

You tried to hold still, knowing it would only drag this out, but the combination of Agatha’s lips on your neck and Rio’s agonizingly slow touches had you trembling with need. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, and despite yourself, you shifted, trying to get more, but Rio’s hand pressed firmly on your thigh, keeping you still.

“Look at her,” Agatha purred, her lips curving into a smirk as she watched you struggle. “So needy, so desperate. It’s almost pitiful.” Her fingers slipped lower, just barely brushing over your clit, the brief contact sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily, but Agatha pulled her hand away just as quickly, leaving you gasping in frustration. “Patience, little one,” she cooed mockingly, her voice dripping with condescension. “We’re nowhere near done with you yet.”

Rio’s fingers returned, slipping inside you again, but this time, her pace was torturously slow, dragging out every movement. She watched every twitch of your body, every gasp that escaped your lips, and she took her time, deliberately keeping you on the edge without ever letting you tip over.

“You’re going to beg by the time we’re done,” Rio said softly, her tone laced with a dangerous promise. “Beg for release, beg for mercy. But it won’t come until we’ve wrung every last ounce of control from you.”

Agatha’s laughter was low and amused as her hand came to rest on your throat, her grip just tight enough to remind you of your place. “And when you do beg,” she whispered into your ear, “we’ll make sure you remember exactly who you belong to.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as the weight of their control pressed down on you. They weren’t going to let you off easy—not after the way you’d pushed them all day. Agatha’s fingers returned, this time stroking your clit with feather-light touches that made you arch against her, desperate for more.

“Such a needy little thing,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. “But you’ll take what we give you. Nothing more.”

Rio’s pace quickened suddenly, fingers pumping in and out of you with precision, and the combined sensation of her and Agatha’s teasing touches had you spiraling toward release again. Your body tensed, breath catching in your throat as the pleasure built, unbearable and all-consuming.

But just as you were about to fall apart, Rio stopped again, pulling her hand away, leaving you gasping, trembling, and completely undone.

“Not yet,” she growled, eyes dark with amusement as you let out a strangled cry of frustration. “You don’t get to finish until we say so.”

Agatha’s grip tightened on your throat as she chuckled softly. “Oh, you poor thing. Don’t worry, you’ll get there eventually… but only after you’ve earned it.”

The frustration overwhelmed you, your body aching with the need for release, but you knew better than to beg. They’d been so clear—any sign of weakness would only fuel their cruelty further. Still, your legs trembled, your breath hitched, and despite your best efforts, a desperate whimper escaped your lips.

Agatha’s lips curved into a wicked smile at the sound. “Hear that, Rio? She’s already starting to break.”

Rio’s hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “Oh, she’ll break,” Rio said, voice low and deadly, “but not until we’ve had our fun.”

Her hand trailed back down between your legs, fingers slipping inside you once more with a roughness that made you gasp. This time, there was no teasing, no slow build. Rio’s pace was brutal, fingers thrusting deep inside you with a rhythm designed to push you toward the edge with terrifying speed.

Agatha’s fingers danced over your clit, circling, pressing, never giving you a moment of reprieve. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every muscle straining against the overwhelming sensations they were forcing on you.

You were teetering on the brink, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt, your mind spiraling as you struggled to hold yourself together. But there was no escape—not with Agatha’s hand tight around your throat, not with Rio’s relentless pace, not with both of them so focused on breaking you completely.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Agatha whispered, her voice like silk against your ear. “So close to giving in. To falling apart for us.”

Your body betrayed you, hips bucking against Rio’s hand as the pressure built and built, pushing you to the very edge of sanity. Your breaths were shallow, gasping, as the pleasure became too much, your mind hazy from the overwhelming sensations.

Rio’s eyes met yours, her gaze hard and unforgiving. “Come,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Come for us now.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an order. And the moment the words left her mouth, your body responded, finally letting go. You cried out, back arching, every muscle tensing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, so intense it left you trembling and breathless. The orgasm ripped through you, relentless and overwhelming, pushing you to the point where you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—couldn’t do anything but feel.

But they didn’t stop.

Agatha’s fingers kept working your clit, drawing out every ounce of pleasure as Rio’s thrusts didn’t slow, didn’t falter. You were still riding the high of your release when it became too much, the overstimulation hitting you like a shock to your system. You squirmed, tried to pull away, but there was no escaping their control.

“Ah, ah,” Agatha teased, her grip on your throat tightening slightly as she kept you in place. “We’re not finished with you yet.”

The sensations became unbearable, your body writhing with the intensity of it all. You whimpered, legs shaking as another orgasm built, faster this time, the pleasure merging with the pain of overstimulation until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Look at her,” Rio growled, her pace merciless as she pushed you through the second wave of pleasure. “Falling apart so beautifully.”

You were too far gone to respond, your body shuddering as another climax ripped through you, your mind a haze of white-hot pleasure and overwhelming exhaustion. Agatha’s grip finally loosened as she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, her voice a purr in your ear.

“There’s our good girl,” she cooed softly, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “Now you’ve learned your lesson.”

Rio’s fingers finally slowed, drawing out the last of your pleasure before she pulled away, leaving you breathless and trembling on the floor. She wiped her hand on a nearby cloth, her expression cool and collected as she stood up, towering over you once more.

“You’ll behave tomorrow,” Rio said, her voice dark and certain, “or this will seem like mercy compared to what we’ll do next time.”

Agatha smiled sweetly as she knelt beside you, her hand brushing a lock of hair from your damp forehead. “But don’t worry, darling. If you do behave,” she murmured, “we might even be nice to you.”

You lay there, exhausted and utterly spent, as they both stood over you, their presence still commanding, still powerful.

You’d pushed them too far, and they had broken you, exactly as promised.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 6 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're home for the holidays and despite the hustle and bustle of family gatherings, your mind is stuck on your two hot neighbours just next door. And when an opportunity for some time alone with them presents itself, how could you refuse?

-OR-

Agatha and Rio tease you relentlessly at a New Years party and you can't wait until its finished to fuck them so you sneak away

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, switch Agatha, switch Rio, Switch reader, threesome (duh), Mommy/Daddy titles, strap-ons, vibrators, fingering, oral, marking, reader has a vibrator used on them in front of other people, alcohol consumption, scissoring, light choking, maybe more? who knows, it's so long I've definitely missed something

Words: 6.4k

A/N: We're BACK baby. This was supposed to be released at the start of Jan to be seasonal but alas it is being released now. This is just shameless smut tbh

AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 7 | Masterlist

The holidays at home always blur together: long afternoons curled up on the couch, listening to old family stories, plates of food that never seem to end, and the comforting hum of familiar voices filling every corner and yet this year feels different.

The quiet warmth of home should be grounding, but instead, it leaves an ache in the pit of your stomach. Agatha and Rio are just next door. So close that if you stepped outside, you could probably hear their laughter through an open window. But proximity doesn’t mean access, and knowing they’re near without being able to touch them—to taste them—has your nerves fraying with every passing hour.

You try to focus on the holiday routine, but your mind keeps drifting, fingers itching to grab your phone. It starts with subtle messages: a teasing remark, a playful emoji, a simple ‘wish you I could be with you’. But restraint crumbles fast, and soon, the texts turn flirty.

And then—

MILFs Anonymous

Rio: You should really learn to close your curtains, cariño. You never know who’s watching ;)

Rio: *click to open image*

The moment you open it, your breath catches.

Agatha is naked in front of the window, bent over just enough to make your pulse quicken, her back arched, ass pressing into Rio’s hips. Rio’s hand grips her firmly, fingers digging into soft skin, and there’s a faint red tint blooming across Agatha’s ass—a clear sign of exactly what they’d been doing before taking this picture.

Your brain shortcircuits.

Because even though you can’t see it, you know the look on Rio’s face, the way she holds Agatha steady, the slight tilt of her hips. You’ve felt it before—been pinned beneath that same unrelenting grip, left breathless by the sharp sting of Agatha’s nails in your skin, Rio’s voice low and taunting as she urges you to take what you're given.

You swallow hard, your mind replaying flashes of memories—Agatha's gasping moans, the way Rio growled in satisfaction as she pushed deeper, the sting of Agatha’s teeth on your shoulder as she struggled to keep quiet. The way they ruined you. The way you begged them to.

But it wasn’t just the two of them in the picture. Through the window, reflected in the glass, you can see yourself wrapped in only a towel, fresh from the shower, completely unaware of what was unfolding right next door.

Oh shit. They had been fucking each other while watching you.

A fresh wave of heat rushes through you. They knew you’d see this and they knew exactly how your thoughts would spiral.

—

For the rest of the day, no matter how many people surround you, no matter how desperately you try to push the image from your mind, you can’t stop feeling the heat coiling low in your stomach, a slow, aching pulse between your thighs that refuses to fade. Every time you slip away for even a moment, closing yourself in the bathroom or lingering too long in the pantry, you try to find any sort of relief—pressing your thighs together, letting your fingers ghost over the damp heat through your underwear—but it’s never enough. The house is too busy, the walls too thin, and the risk too high.

And then it gets worse.

When you step outside that afternoon, something entirely unexpected greets you.

At first, it doesn’t make sense—a massive tent pole structure stretching across your backyard, spilling into Agatha and Rio’s. Men move around, securing ropes and hammering stakes into the ground. You frown, stepping closer to where your father stands, watching the setup unfold.

“What’s going on?” you ask, confusion evident in your voice.

Your dad turns to you with a wide, easy smile, as if the sight of an entire-ass event tent appearing in your backyard is completely normal. “Oh, the fencing between the yards was getting replaced, right? So we thought, why not take advantage of the space? We’re throwing a New Year’s Eve party with Agatha and Rio. A big one—lots of people—should be a good way for them to meet the neighbours a bit better.”

Your stomach flips. “A joint party?”

“Yep!” He seems blissfully unaware of the way you bit your lip; you’re a flirty drunk and there is no way you’ll be able to help yourself even with a house full of guests. “Just made sense, really. They only moved in a couple weeks before you went back to college so they’re still kind of new here, and it’s a great excuse for everyone to get together.”

As if summoned by your rising anxiety, your mother enters the conversation, casually slipping her phone from her pocket. “Oh, that reminds me—we have a group chat for the planning. You should be in it, too.”

Before you can protest, your phone buzzes with a new notification:

Mom added you to New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Looking at who was in the chat, you see it’s just your parents, Agatha, Rio, and now you.

You stare at your screen, the weight of the situation settling into your bones. There’s no escaping them at this party. They’ll be there, looking devastating, flirting in ways no one else will recognise, taunting you. And worse—you’ll have to pretend it doesn’t matter.

The moment you’re alone, you do the only thing that makes sense.

MILFs Anonymous.

~15:48

You: You two didn’t think to tell me about this party???

~15:51

Agatha: We thought you already knew, darling.

~16:02

Rio: Can’t wait to see your outfit ;)

You let out a groan, flopping onto your bed, heart hammering against your ribs.

—

The next couple of days blur into a frenzy of preparation. The towering pole tent in the backyard transforms into something breathtaking—a canopy of warm string lights crisscrossing above, casting a golden glow over the dance floor, lounge areas, and bar stations. Tables are filled with food and drinks; fire pits crackle steadily, promising warmth against the winter chill.

Your parents, ever the enthusiastic hosts, are in full planning mode. Your mom bombards the group chat with a steady stream of last-minute tasks, while your dad orchestrates the outdoor setup like a seasoned general.

"Can someone make sure the drinks are properly chilled?""Surfaces still need to be wiped down!""We need more ice—any volunteers?"

Between messages, you’re swept into the chaos, lugging bottles of wine to the bar, adjusting decorations, untangling fairy lights. But no matter how hectic things get, Agatha and Rio always seem to find a moment to steal you away.

It starts small.

As you carry a tray of glasses into their kitchen, Rio appears behind you, pressing in close, her breath warm against your ear.

"Mmm, darling, seeing you follow orders is doing things to me." Her fingers trail down your arm, barely touching, but enough to send a shiver racing down your spine. Before you can react, she’s gone; back to chatting with your mom like nothing happened.

Then there’s Agatha. You’re kneeling down, adjusting a set of flickering LED candles on a coffee table, when she approaches. She tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your gaze to hers.

"Careful, sweetheart." She smirks as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. "If you stay on your knees too long, I’m going to start getting ideas."

Heat floods your body, your pulse hammering wildly. They’re relentless, playing a game you have no hope of winning. And then—because the universe isn’t done with you yet—your mom unknowingly delivers the final blow.

New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Mom: Hey! Would it be okay if Y/N stayed with you guys tonight? Aunt Carol and family are taking up all our rooms.

You don’t even think about how your mom’s making you give up your room without asking; you’re too busy staring at your phone, heart pounding.

You’re going to be staying with them again.

Excitement flutters in your chest, hot and electric. After days of teasing glances, fleeting touches, and whispered words meant to unravel you, you’re finally going to have them to yourself. No stolen moments. No interruptions. Just you, Agatha, and Rio.

But that thrill is laced with something deeper. Because if they’ve been so relentless with their flirting, not knowing when they’d next properly be with you, what the hell is going to happen now they know they get to have you all to themselves?

You swallow hard, fingers gripping your phone tighter as their responses roll in.

New Years Party 💃🥳🍾

Rio: No worries :)

Agatha: Don’t worry, we will take good care of them, just like we always do.

You choke on nothing.

Your mom, blissfully oblivious, just reacts with a thumbs-up emoji and moves on with planning. Meanwhile, you sit there, phone still in your hands, trying to process the fact that you’ve just been thrown straight into the lion’s den—and you’re not coming out unfucked unscathed.

—

You stand before your mirror, hands smoothing down the fabric of your costume.

It’s bolder than anything you’d normally wear. The cut, the way it frames your body, the teasing flashes of skin—you look hot.

After one last steadying breath, you step out of your room.

The party is already in full swing by the time you make your way downstairs. Your house, the backyards, and Agatha and Rio’s house are all packed, laughter and music spilling from every direction. Guests roam freely between the connected spaces, glasses in hand, conversations buzzing with holiday cheer. Familiar faces from high school mix with family, friends, and neighbours, the crowd a blur of movement and warmth.

But you only have eyes for them.

Rio and Agatha stand near the bar, unmistakable even from across the yard. They’re dressed as pirates and they look absolutely devastating.

Agatha’s coat fits her like a dream—dark, regal, and cinched at the waist in a way that accentuates every curve. Gold buttons gleam under the dim lights, the ruffled blouse beneath teasing glimpses of skin. Her long hair tumbles in wild waves over her shoulders, and the sharp smirk she wears makes her look utterly untouchable.

Then there’s Rio. Her deep red tunic borders on scandalous, left open just enough to reveal her cleavage. Her pants hug her hips perfectly and it makes your mouth run dry. The hat, the sharp gaze, the effortless dominance in every movement—it’s almost unfair.

—

The night blurs into a haze of warmth and music, but you barely see them. They’re the perfect hosts, moving through the party with easy charm, laughing, drinking, and acting like they aren’t slowly breaking you.

Every time they pass, they’re touching you in some way.

A lingering hand at the small of your back. Fingers skimming your wrist. A squeeze at your hip. Soft whispers against your ear, too low for anyone else to hear.

It’s torture. Slow, deliberate, intoxicating torture.

And then—

“Long time no see.”

You turn, blinking as a tall guy in a sharp tux grins at you, tilting his martini glass in greeting. You recognise him vaguely—someone from high school, back for the holidays like everyone else.

“You’re looking good,” he says, eyes dragging down your outfit before reaching out, fingers grazing the fabric. “I really like the costume.”

You arch a brow, looking him up and down. “And you’re dressed as...”

He smirks, lifting his glass again. “Bond. James Bond.”

Seriously? Could he not be bothered to put in any effort?

The conversation shifts into polite small talk—he’s studying business now, home for the break, blah blah blah. It’s easy, meaningless chatter. Until he leans in closer, voice dropping.

“You know,” he muses, “007 always gets the hottie in the end.”

You open your mouth, not entirely sure whether to laugh or shut him down.

Suddenly you’re not alone. Rio and Agatha flank you, cutting off all space and oxygen.

Agatha moves first, wrapping an arm around your waist, her palm settling firmly over your ass, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

At the same time, Rio’s fingers find the back of your neck, her thumb dragging over the sensitive skin there.

The shift is instant.

Mr. Uninventive hesitates, eyes darting between the two of them. “Uh—”

“We need to steal them for a moment,” Rio interrupts smoothly, leaving no room for argument.

“Party business,” Agatha adds, amusement curling at the edges of her words.

Before you can even process what’s happening, they’re guiding you away. Through the house, up the stairs, and into their bedroom.

The door slams shut behind you.

Agatha and Rio move in tandem, running their palms over your body, mapping every inch with a reverence that makes your head spin. Lips follow—featherlight kisses pressed to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Every touch, every whispered breath, is a deliberate act of worship.

“Look at you,” Rio breathes against your skin, voice thick with hunger. Her fingers trace the curve of your waist, slipping just under the fabric of your costume. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you, baby?”

Agatha hums in agreement, her mouth warm against the shell of your ear. “You look so fucking good like this,” she murmurs.

Their words make your skin prickle, heat pooling low in your stomach. You can barely breathe with how they’re touching you, how they’re speaking to you. But just as quickly as they praise, their hands slow and then stop entirely.

“Then again,” Agatha continues, her tone turning sharper, her fingers digging into your hips, “maybe we shouldn’t be too generous with our compliments.”

You blink up at her, dizzy with need, but Rio’s grip on your chin forces your gaze toward her instead. The playful glint in her eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

“You really thought we wouldn’t notice?” She asks, tilting your head back, forcing you to hold her gaze. “Letting everyone at this party get an eyeful of you? Letting that prick downstairs get close enough to touch you?”

Your stomach twists. “I wasn’t—”

Agatha tuts, cutting you off. “Don’t even try, sweetheart.” Her grip tightens, her breath hot against your cheek. “You were practically giggling at him.”

“I was being friendly,” you argue weakly. “Just being a good host—”

“You should know who you belong to by now,” Rio interrupts, voice a low growl, her lips brushing yours. “The only people you need to be good for are us.”

Before you can stammer out a response, Agatha takes your hand in hers, guiding it lower and lower until your palm is pressed between her legs. Your breath catches, eyes going wide when you feel it.

Hard, thick, and waiting.

The heavy coat she��s wearing must have concealed it from view

Your lips part, a soft, startled noise escaping before Rio kisses it away. Then Agatha presses forward just enough to make sure you feel her, making sure you understand.

“Still want to pretend?” She teases dangerously. “Or are you ready to be good now?”

Rio doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Her fingers are suddenly slipping past the waistband of your underwear, gliding through your slick heat with ease. The first stroke has you jolting, the second has you gasping, and by the third, you’re already shaking in their hold.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your lips, dragging her fingers through your wetness before circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. “You’re so worked up. Is this all for us or do you want us to go fetch your friend from downstairs?”

You whine at her words. “No. Please, no, I want you. I only ever want you.”

Agatha hums her approval, her hands busy with your chest, kneading, pinching, and rolling your nipples between her fingers in a way that has you keening. Her mouth isn’t far behind, her lips and tongue lavishing attention along your neck and collarbone, teeth scraping just enough to make you shudder.

“You look so pretty like this,” she muses, flicking her tongue over a sensitive spot, smiling when she feels your breath hitch. “So desperate and needy. And you have the nerve to pretend you weren’t begging for us to do this?”

Rio chuckles, dragging her fingers lower before plunging two inside you without warning. The sudden stretch knocks the air from your lungs, your knees buckling as she fucks into you with deep, practiced strokes. Her free hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as your body melts between them, thighs shaking, pleasure mounting too quickly to contain.

“That’s it, baby,” she purrs, curling her fingers just right, rubbing against your g-spot in a way that has you seeing stars.

You don’t stand a chance. Between Agatha’s lips on your skin, her hands teasing and playing with your chest, and the relentless motion of Rio’s fingers, you unravel in their arms, your orgasm hitting you in waves that leave you breathless. You barely register Agatha’s arm wrapping around your waist, holding you upright as your body trembles, Rio murmuring soft praises as she strokes you through the aftershocks.

By the time you finally come down, you’re a mess—practically boneless from the pleasure they’ve wrung from you. You hadn’t even noticed how thoroughly they’d been marking you until you glance at the mirror across the room and spot angry red hickies blooming all over your neck—too dark to be ignored, too obvious to be passed off as anything else.

Rio just smirks. “You’ll figure something out,” she says, unbothered.

Then something smooth and cool is slid down the front of your underwear and then pushed inside you. It slips in without resistance; you’re not surprised by this with how hard you just came, but you still jolt at the sensation, looking down in alarm, but Agatha hushes you with a soothing stroke down your spine.

“Be a good pet,” she whispers. “And don’t take it out.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation at what they’re going to do.

Agatha opens the door, but before you can protest, Rio pats your ass and sends you on your way.

You try to focus, try to mingle, but it’s impossible. Your legs are unsteady as you make your way back down the stairs, each step a struggle as the first soft buzz hums to life between your thighs.

You bite your lip hard, fingers gripping your drink tighter than necessary, heat spreading across your face.

It’s going to be a long night.

—

Desperation eventually wins out.

The drinks, the teasing, the relentless vibrations—it’s all too much.

You don’t even think before your fingers fly over your phone screen, firing off a text to MILFs Anonymous in sheer drunken need.

You: I need you, Mommy.

The moment it sends, regret lances through you. Too much? Too needy? Too obvious?

But before you can spiral, your phone buzzes.

Agatha: We’re in our living room, baby.

You practically start sprinting to them. 

—

When you arrive, a group of guests has already settled in for a game of charades.

Rio and Agatha are perched on the couch, the picture of effortless elegance, drinks in hand, looking entirely untouched by the chaos they’ve unleashed inside you.

“Come join us, Y/N!” someone calls.

You hesitate. There are no seats left, not even an armrest to perch on.

Then Agatha smirks, tilting her head in invitation. “Oh, come here,” she says, patting her thigh. “We don’t mind squeezing in a bit.”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your body starts moving before your mind can protest, drawn like a moth to flame. The moment you lower yourself into Agatha’s lap, you feel the firm press of her strap beneath you.

Your thighs clench. A small, involuntary whimper slipping past your lips, barely audible over the chatter—except to them. The vibrations in your underwear kick up just slightly.

It’s a warning.

You shift instinctively, trying to relieve the ache, trying to grind just enough, but Agatha’s hands settle on your hips, holding you still.

“Behave,” she whispers.

The game goes on, but you are utterly useless—lost in your arousal, eyes darting desperately between them, silently begging for mercy.

And then, just as your body reaches a breaking point, they stand. Agatha lifts you from her lap, setting you onto the couch as if you weigh nothing. Rio leans in close—close enough for only you to hear.

“You should be more careful when texting,” she whispers, smirking against your ear. “Check which group chat you click on next time.”

Your blood freezes.

They walk away, leaving you scrambling to open your phone. Your stomach drops. Your message—the Mommy message—wasn’t sent to MILFs Anonymous.

It was sent to the party planning chat.

With your parents in it.

Crap.

The vibrations surge suddenly to a dizzying intensity, tearing you violently back into the moment. You slap a hand over your mouth, barely suppressing a gasp, legs clamping shut as pleasure floods through you.

Agatha and Rio glance at you from across the room, watching as you struggle.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, mind racing, body burning.

That text is going to be impossible to explain to your parents.

But right now? Right now, all you can do is bite your lip and try and survive until you’re alone with Agatha and Rio again.

—

As the party inches closer to midnight, the energy shifts—laughter growing louder, bodies pressing together as people eagerly anticipate the countdown. The air is thick with warmth, alcohol, and the unspoken anticipation of the night’s inevitable climax.

Unfortunately for you, the guy from earlier sidles up beside you, martini glass still in hand.

“Ah, there you are.”

You sigh, schooling your expression as you glance up at him. He’s grinning, slightly flushed from alcohol, his tux still crisp despite the hours of partying.

“Where’d you run off to?” he asks, taking another slow sip of his drink. “I was hoping we’d get a little more time together.”

“Been busy,” you reply, voice flat.

He chuckles like you’ve made a joke, leaning in a little too close, eyes dipping to your lips. "Y’know, it’s bad luck to not have someone to kiss at midnight. Wouldn’t want to start the new year off on the wrong foot, would you?" His tone is smooth and practiced, and though his words drip with charm, they don’t land the way he intends.

You open your mouth to shut him down, but shut it again when you hear a deep gasp from behind you.

“Oh no,” Rio drawls dramatically. “Oops.”

You barely have time to process before Rio’s drink drenches the front of his pristine tuxedo. There’s a second of pure silence. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, a drunken party guest howls with laughter.

“Dude!” they wheeze, pointing at the massive stain spreading down his pants. “You look like you pissed yourself!”

Why on Earth they find it so funny, you’ll never know, but it does seem to make wannabe James Bond forget about flirting with you.

He goes stiff, face burning as he looks down at the damage. His jaw works, like he’s about to lash out for being humiliated. Instead, he mutters something under his breath, pushes past the crowd, and disappears from sight.

Rio, standing beside you, smiles sweetly, swirling the remnants of her drink round the glass. “Oops,” she says again, voice filled with mock innocence.

At that moment, the countdown begins.

“Ten!”

Agatha shifts closer.

“Nine!”

Rio sets her empty glass down, her gaze flickering to you.

“Eight!”

You feel the first brush of Agatha’s fingers along your cheek.

“Seven… six…”

Rio’s hand slides down your back, resting just above your waist.

“Five… four…”

Agatha tilts your chin up.

“Three…”

Your breath catches.

“Two…”

Your pulse pounds.

“One!”

Then, at the stroke of midnight, their lips are on you.

Agatha kisses you first, slow and languid, her tongue teasing at your lower lip before slipping into your mouth. It’s deep and possessive, and if anyone notices your neighbour kissing someone who is not her wife, they’re too caught up in their own celebrations to care.

Before you can fully process it, she pulls away, only for Rio to take her place.

Where Agatha was slow, Rio is devastating—teeth nipping at your lip, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist like she’s starving for you.

By the time she pulls back, you’re breathless, dazed, and aching.

—

The party blurs after that. There’s more drinking, more dancing, more laughter, but the tension lingers.

They don’t let you stray too far, always keeping you within reach, eyes dark with promise.

Eventually, the party begins to die down, and guests filter out toward your parents’ house to continue the fun on a smaller scale. You move to follow, but before you can take a step, a firm hand closes around your wrist.

It’s Agatha. Her grip is light, but her eyes are anything but. “Stay.”

She turns, calling out to the last stragglers near the door. “We’re gonna lock up—probably head to bed. Unfortunately, that means Y/N here is calling it a night too.”

You know she’s lying and from the way Rio is standing behind you, so close you can feel her breath against your neck, you know exactly why.

The door clicks shut.

The lock turns.

And then?

They pounce.

Rio is on you first, shoving you back against the nearest wall, her mouth claiming yours with a hunger that makes your knees buckle. It’s all tongue and teeth, no patience, no teasing—just raw need.

Agatha isn’t far behind. She presses up against your side, hands already tugging at your costume, lips brushing against your ear as she snarls, “I thought they’d never leave.”

You don’t get a chance to answer.

Rio’s hands are already at your waist, yanking at the fabric, desperate to get it off. “Fuck,” she mutters, cursing the layers, fingers fumbling.

Agatha’s laugh is low and wicked as she slides a hand between your legs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your underwear.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos. “You’re soaked.”

Heat floods your face, but you don’t get a second to feel embarrassed—because in the next breath, Rio growls in frustration and just rips your costume open.

“Rio!” you gasp, but she doesn’t care.

“Shut up,” she mutters, eyes dark with want. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

She starts stripping you, hands rough and insistent. She doesn’t waste time, doesn’t go slow, just takes—pulling away fabric, tossing aside layers—until you’re left in nothing but your thoroughly wrecked underwear.

While Rio starts to undress herself, Agatha’s hands trail down your arms before gripping your wrists and pinning them against the wall.

“Look at you,” she muses, eyes dragging over your body like she’s memorising every inch. “You really let yourself get this messy at a party?”

Before you can snap back, your gaze flicks to Rio and the very, very obvious damp patch on her lacey black underwear.

Heat surges through you, and despite your situation, a smirk tugs at your lips. “I’m the messy one?” You tease, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like someone else has a problem too.”

Rio follows your gaze—then scoffs, shaking her head with a laugh. “Keep talking,” she warns, shoving her thumbs beneath the waistband of her underwear. “See what happens.”

Now Agatha starts stripping, too.

And fuck.

Your mouth goes dry as the last of their clothes hit the floor, leaving you gaping at her—completely bare, except for the harness strapped tightly around her hips, the deep purple toy attached firmly at the centre.

It makes your breath catch.

The sight of her so commanding and unapologetic aroused has your knees weak.

Rio spots your reaction immediately. Smirking, she slowly drops to her knees in front of you, dragging her palms down your trembling thighs.

"You're shaking, cariño," she murmurs, pressing a teasing kiss against your hipbone. "Been wound up all night, have you?"

Her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your soaked underwear. With a slow, deliberate drag, she peels the ruined fabric down your legs, letting it drop to the floor. And then she spots the vibrator still tucked between your slick thighs.

Her smirk widens.

"Look at this," she purrs, brushing her fingers against the damp, buzzing device. "You've been so good, keeping this in for us."

“Not like I had a chance to take it out. You guys have had me on a tight leash since midnight,” you scoff.

“A leash, you say? Now that’s a good idea,” Agatha hums from behind you, warm hands sliding up your arms before settling at your waist. She pulls you flush against her chest, letting you feel every inch of the hard length pressing against your lower back.

Rio hooks a finger around the toy and pulls it free with a wet, obscene little sound that makes your entire body jolt. Then, without breaking eye contact, she brings it to her lips.

Her tongue flicks over it first, tasting the evidence of your arousal. She hums, lashes fluttering as she takes the toy fully into her mouth, sucking it clean with slow, deliberate moans that send heat rushing straight to your core.

Your fingers dig into Agatha’s arms, a whimper slipping past your lips.

“You taste so fucking good,” Rio purrs, setting it aside before leaning in, kissing and biting her way up your inner thigh.

Agatha moves at the same time, her hands skimming up your ribs before one closes firmly around your throat. She tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck, and sinks her teeth in.

The sharp pleasure-pain rips a gasp from you.

"Such a needy thing," Agatha husks against your skin, sucking another bruise into place. “We only fucked you a few hours ago and yet you’re still dripping for us.”

Rio groans in agreement, her breath hot against your thigh. Without warning, she grabs the back of your knee, hooks your leg over her shoulder, and finally presses her mouth to your pussy.

Rio’s tongue works you open with devastating precision; she is utterly relentless. Every flick and swirl sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body, making your thighs tremble around her head. The grip Agatha has around your waist tightens, holding you up as you lose yourself to the sensation, your hands grasping at anything they can touch.

You’re so close and Rio feels it. She moans against you, the vibration sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. The tension snaps all at once, a ragged cry escaping your lips as an orgasm crashes through you, stealing the air from your lungs. Your body shudders, shaking in Agatha’s steady arms as Rio eases you through it, licking up every last drop, prolonging the high until you can barely stand.

Only when your body sags completely against Agatha does Rio finally pull away, her lips slick and eyes hooded with satisfaction. But you barely get a moment to recollect yourself before Agatha is moving you both again.

She manhandles you effortlessly, flipping you over the arm of the couch with zero warning. She grips your hips and thrusts inside you in a single, smooth motion.

“Fuck—!” You arch against the cushions; the stretch is almost overwhelming, but you push back against her, wordlessly begging for more. And she gives it to you, setting a brutal pace that has your nails clawing at the couch.

There’s no hesitation and no patience left. Agatha grip is firm, fingers digging into your flesh like she owns you. The heavy press of her body against your back, the way the harness hits deep with every roll of her hips—it’s overwhelming, all-consuming, and exactly what you need.

It’s only then that you register the low, shuddering groans Agatha is making, the kind that makes it feel like your body is alive with electricity. You realise she must have a grinding pad in the harness. Every thrust she gives you is giving her something in return, dragging that firm pressure right over her clit.

"Oh, fuck—so tight around me, baby. You like being used like this?" Agatha’s voice is rough and strained, and it only makes you clench tighter around her.

But you still want more.

Your fingers scramble against the cushions before reaching back, finding a handful of soft, wild hair to yank.

Rio gasps, pleasure laced into the sharp pull, and follows, letting you drag her in front of you. Her pupils are blown, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You waste no time, your hands cupping the damp lace of her underwear, feeling the evidence of how much this night has affected her.

"You act all in control, but you’re just as desperate, aren’t you? Been getting off to this the whole time?" You moan, voice thick with pleasure, as Agatha pounds into you.

Rio lets out a breathless laugh, but it dissolves into a shaky whimper as you press a little firmer. "You’re such a little brat," she whispers, but the way she rocks her hips into your touch betrays her. "Gonna make it up to me? Use that pretty little mouth of yours?"

At that, you capture her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her smirk and groaning against her lips as Agatha slams into you even harder. Your hands roam, greedy and impatient, trailing over Rio’s stomach, slipping past the waistband of her delicate lace underwear. You moan into her mouth as you feel just how wet she is, a shuddering breath leaving her as your fingers slide through the mess you’ve made of her.

Agatha grips your hips tighter. “That’s it, sweetheart,” she growls, voice vibrating with pleasure. "Fuck her like you mean it, baby—make her fall apart for us."

You thrust two fingers inside Rio with ease, curling them just right, coaxing a gorgeous whimper from her lips. She braces herself against the couch, hips bucking into your hand, her breath hitching every time your thumb brushes over her clit. Her head tips back, exposing the perfect column of her throat, and you can’t resist—you latch onto her skin, kissing and biting your way down as she unravels in your hands.

Agatha doesn’t relent for a second; her pace is relentless, her moans growing heavier, and her body pressed so tightly against yours you feel everything.

The three of you move together, bodies lost in each other, the pleasure mounting higher and higher until finally, you all break at once.

Rio’s cry is the first to ring out, her body tensing, fingers tangling in your hair as she falls apart beneath your touch. Agatha is next, hips stuttering, a rough groan tumbling from her lips as she pushes deep one final time.

You shatter between them, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave, drowning in the heat of their bodies, the grip of their hands, the sound of their pleasure mixing with yours in the dark, breathless space of the living room.

—

The three of you barely make it up the stairs, hands and lips desperate, laughter mixing with breathless moans as you stumble into the bedroom. Agatha ditches the harness the second you reach the edge of the bed, tossing it aside before Rio pushes her down onto the mattress with an eager gleam in her eye. Straddling her wife, Rio hooks one of Agatha’s legs over her own, pressing their bodies together, the heat between them instantly electrifying

Agatha smirks up at her, hands tracing over Rio’s thighs before gripping her hips, guiding her down. The first slow grind of Rio’s core against her own pulls a shuddering gasp from them both, the wetness between their bodies making the movement slick and unbearably good.

You don’t hesitate to join, slotting yourself in behind Rio, one hand slipping between your own legs while the other moves to cup her breast. You drag your lips along the curve of her shoulder, sucking marks into her skin, letting your tongue flick behind her ear just to feel the way she shudders from it.

“Fuck, look at you two,” Agatha groans, voice thick with arousal as she meets Rio’s slow, intoxicating rhythm. “You’re both so fucking gorgeous.”

Rio whimpers, grinding down harder, her pleasure clear in the way her body trembles against you. You can feel the slickness coating your fingers as you fuck yourself, matching their pace, your own moans spilling against Rio’s flushed skin.

“C’mon, Daddy,” you emphasise her title, fingers twisting her nipple just enough to make her gasp. “Let me hear you.”

Rio’s head falls back against your shoulder, her breath ragged as Agatha grips her ass, pulling her down with each roll of her hips, making sure she feels every bit of her. The pace quickens, and the heat between you all mounts unbearably fast. You can feel it building; Rio’s legs begin to tremble, Agatha’s nails dig into her skin, and your own fingers speed up, chasing that blinding pleasure.

“Oh, fuck—” Rio gasps, her body going rigid as her climax crashes over her. She grips your thigh, nails digging in as she rides it out, the sound of Agatha’s deep groan telling you she’s right there with her, lost in the overwhelming bliss. The sight of them both cumming together pushes you over the edge as well, pleasure searing through your veins as your own orgasm takes hold, your body tensing and then shuddering against Rio’s.

For a long moment, all that fills the room is the sound of panting as your bodies tremble in the aftermath. Then, as the bliss slowly fades into warmth, Agatha lets out a breathless chuckle, running a lazy hand up Rio’s side.

“Well,” she muses, voice still hoarse from pleasure, “that’s one hell of a way to start the new year.”

“Yeah, if this is any indication of how the rest of the year’s gonna go, I’d say we’re in for a good one.” Rio laughs, head still resting against your shoulder, and you can’t help but grin, pressing a soft kiss to her damp skin. 

You hum an agreement as the three of you collapse onto the mattress in a tangled, sated heap, bodies exhausted but hearts so full. Whatever the year held, one thing was certain—you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

Next part >>

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Soooooooooo how do we all feel about the return of Neighbourly Care?

Agatha and Rio are rich MILF neighbours now ig... sugar mommies for reader yay or nay?

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taglist: @aceday @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @sevikasleftarm25 @kiaralee25 @4theluvofsapphos @lez-zuha @jujuu23 @gaylorvader @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @masorciereviolette

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Help With The Curriculum pt 2

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: Smut, strap, dry humping, choking, fingering, 2x use of daddy in non-sexually explicity context, dirty talk, lap-sitting, mentions of edging, mentions of exhibitionlism, mentions of overstimulation, Rio Vidal 😩

Summary: You sit in on one of Agatha’s lectures and enjoy some time with her during passing period... however that time with Agatha might have attracted the attention of someone else.

An: Not promising a fully fledged fic but ill keep posting parts of this until I lose interest. Also couldn't help but add Rio... eventual Rio x Agatha x Reader smut but idk if it'll just be one part or permanent in this fic 🙇‍♀️

Previous Part | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You end up spending Saturday and Sunday at Agatha’s. It wasn’t planned, but it was hard to leave. You already felt so comfortable with the woman. The only reason you found yourself back at home had to do with the papers you were supposed to grade Friday.

You spent most of your Monday grading the work. Images and thoughts of the other professor poked at the back of your mind, but you tried to stay focused. You figured that you could text her as a reward for finishing the grading.

Your phone dings as you’re on the final paper. You think about letting it wait, considering you’re almost done, but it dings again. The impulses get the better of you and you pick it up.

Agatha: I have an 8am tomorrow

Agatha: If you want to sit in on my lecture

You smile, knowing that you’d be in her classroom bright and early to watch her teach.

Y/n: I’ll be there

Agatha: Your class starts 15 after mine ends. It’d probably take you 5 mins to walk over…

Y/n: Probably, why?

Agatha: Well you said you wanted to fuck me in the lecture hall. You think you can get me off in 10 mins?

Y/n: I can do it in 5 ;-)

Agatha: We'll see about that professor

You now had a better reason to look forward to your Tuesday. After those messages you didn't have it in you to further grade the last assignment. You opted to just give that one lucky student an A.

For the rest of the day your mind wandered to how you were going to use those 5 minutes to get Agatha off. You couldn’t help but smile as dirty thoughts filled your head.

You’d be playing mind games from the second you stepped inside of her classroom. Your usual casual classroom attire was being quickly abandoned for something that better fit your title of professor. A grey 3-piece Herringbone suit. You wore your hair back, out of your face.

You had a pocket chain clipped to your pants, while a watch sat on your wrist. There was something special packed in your pants that you planned on using to tease the other professor.

You filed into her classroom with the other students. Opposite to her approach in your classroom, you sat in the back corner of her lecture hall. You wanted her to see you. With your legs spread open and a hand tentatively resting high up on your thigh.

Your other hand held up your head as you locked your eyes on her. When her eyes met yours, you could see them narrow at your appearance. You sent her a polite smile, which you could tell she was fighting not to return.

She briefly welcomed her students back and then  immediately got into the lecture. There was an assertive flip to her character that intrigued you. You could get lost in her tone of speaking. She hardly looked at you, but when she did, you were always readjusting the crotch of your pants.

“Your exam is tomorrow; multiple choice and 3 short answer questions. All of the answers should be in your notes, I’d study them thoroughly. You are dismissed.”

Her classroom cleared much faster than yours had the previous Friday. You had waited for the last student to leave before rising from your seat. You took your time locking the doors to the room, before heading down to Agatha.

You could tell that she had a sly remark on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t get a chance to speak as your lips attacked hers. You were rough as you kissed her, complete disregard for pleasantries.

You pressed her up against the desk. Enough to where she could feel the strap through your pants, she moaned as you slowly rocked your hips. No words were necessary, only the sounds of your breathing.

Your hand reached around her front, eager to plunge into her wetness. Once you make it past her waistband, you have to hold yourself back from taking her bottoms completely off. Her panties are ruined.

“Fuck, I made you this wet, just sitting there? You saw my hand on this big fake cock, and couldn’t help but make a mess of yourself, professor?”

She throws her head back as you rub her clit, “Look so sexy baby, I want you inside me.”

You chuckle darkly into her ear, “All weekend wasn’t enough huh? You just want me to fill you up every day.”

You keep your thumb on her clit and easily push 2 fingers inside of her. Your free hand loops around to rest on her neck. She tilts her head back to be able to meet your lips. You can feel her clenching around your fingers already.

“Desperate fucking slut, so needy for me. I’d take you like this for hours, till that puddle in your panties becomes a fucking ocean. Make you cum enough to coat my strap in your juices. Have your filthy mouth suck it off, just to spread you open and shove it in that hungry hole. The way you’re sucking up my fingers, fuck I know you need my cock buried inside of you.”

She begins to pant, “I want it. I want your cock, please. Please I’ll do anything, just let me have it.”

You pout, “Aww we don’t have time right now Aggie. I need you to cum on fingers so I can shove them in your mouth and go teach my class.”

She whines and starts moving with your fingers, “Y/n.”

You kiss her forehead, “I know baby, I know. You have to be good for me. Do what I say and I’ll make it worth your while, professor.”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter and pick up the pace with your fingers. Agatha lets out a shrill scream, causing you to cover her mouth quickly. You feel her slump against you, causing you to slow your pace before fully removing your fingers from her.

Before you can move away from her, she grabs your wrist, guiding your fingers into her mouth. She allows the tips to hit the back of her throat while keeping eye contact with you.

Your fingers fall out of her mouth and you delicately grab her by the chin. You peck her lips sweetly.

“You owe me one hell of a reward, Professor L/n,” she mumbles.

Her hand trails down the front of your suit pants until she finds what she’s looking for. She squeezes the toy lightly, palming it with her hand.

“I keep my promises, Professor Harkness. I still have a few to make good on, but in the meantime, I have a lecture to teach,” you wink at her.

She steals on last kiss from you, “Don’t be late.”

Agatha playfully smacks your ass when you turn around and you laugh at her antics. As you reach the exit of her classroom you turn back for a second, “Oh, and Professor Harkness. I really enjoyed your lesson.”

You leave her lecture room with a smile on your face. On the way to your own class, you find yourself walking in stride with fellow history professor, Rio Vidal.

“You’re getting awfully cozy with Professor Harkness.”

You shrug, “She needed some help with the curriculum, wanted a fresh new perspective.”

The brown eyed woman hums, “Hmm, I’ve never known her to ask for help.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t have much help to offer her these days,” you match her tone.

“I heard she sat in on your lecture, mind if I do the same?” She disregards your last statement.

Again you shrug, “Feel free, Professor Vidal.”

You feel her gaze trail up your side profile. It lingers on your pants, and you have to stop yourself from readjusting.

“You can call me Rio.”

“Y/n,” you say curtly.

Once at your classroom, you already have a few students waiting outside. You let them in and head to the front of the class. Rio takes a seat in the front corner of the lecture.

As promised before break you spend the whole class reviewing. The last thing you do is hand out the assignments you graded yesterday. You sit at your desk, eyes drifting over to Rio.

“Well, I can see now why everyone is so enticed by you. You’re charming, smart, and well-dressed. No wonder students and professors alike are always muttering about you,” she walks to stand in front of your desk.

Your face heats under her gaze, “I’m hearing about my  reputation more now than ever before.”

She stares at you like she could devour you. Her hands rest wide on your desk and her head drops to look at you.

“I don’t think she could handle what you have to offer, cupcake,” Rio leans into the desk.

“What are you talking about?” You sit back straight in your chair, keeping a calm attitude.

“Oh, now you want to play dumb professor,” she leans in further to whisper in your ear, “I heard you two early. Trust me kid, I know what Agatha sounds like. There’s only one reason I’d hear her making those kind of noises.”

“Jealous or something?”

She smiles widely shaking her head. She walks around to the side of the desk, “Not of you. Like I said, I’m very familiar with Agatha. I’m less familiar with you."

She gets on her knees and crawls over to you. Her hands wrap around your leg to rest on your knees, “ I need to know you better.”

“Don’t even think about it Vidal,” you scoot back away from her.

“I'd listen to her if I were you, Rio,” Agatha’s voice echoes across the room.

Rio only smirks and stand to her feet, “Hello, my love. Long time, no chat.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” Agatha quickly makes her way to the desk. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she stares at Rio.

The brown eyed woman frowns, “How long are we going to play this game, Agatha?”

“Play time is over Rio” Agatha says.

Rio shakes her head, “You fucking some hot, younger, girl, doesn't mean shit. She only fucked you as a rebound Y/n.”

“You’re only saying that because you wished you fucked her first,” Agatha shoots back at Rio.

“If I had 5 minutes alone with her, she would’ve taken me over the desk,” Rio glares at Agatha.

“You always did have a thing for sloppy seconds,” Agatha returns.

“I take it you two have a past,” you interject.

“Present, and a future, cupcake,” Rio winks at you.

You stand up, “I’m not your cupcake, Professor Vidal. I only plan on saying this one time, so I hope you’re a good listener. I. Don’t. Like. Sharing.”

“Oooo daddy runs a little hot I see,” Rio teases you.

You can feel your jaw twitch, “You’re a fucking brat.”

Rio bats her eyelashes at you, “You going to tame me, daddy?”

Agatha cuts in her tone stern, “Rio, leave now.”

Rio whines the blue-eyed woman’s name, “Agatha.”

“Out,” Agatha reinforces.

The woman huffs out an air of irritation before leaving the classroom.

“You know I figured you hooked up with Professor Vidal, but I didn’t picture her being such a brat,” you sit back down when you address Agatha.

The woman sits in your lap, facing you. Her hands play with the hairs on the back of your neck. She can feel the dildo pressing against her, but refrains from moving.

“She’s untamable,” Agatha says dismissively.

You scoff, “No one is untamable.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Trust me, Rio lives for the thrill of the punishment.”

“You punish her a lot?”

“I suppose I did,” Agatha meets your eyes.

“Tell me about it.”

Your hands found purchase on her hips. You guided her slowly back and forth across the length of the strap in your pants.

“One time I made go out with a toy inside of her and no panties. I spanked her for every wet spot she left when she was sitting,” Agatha says and you guide her a little faster.

“More.”

“I slapped her cunt until it was nice and tender and then I made her bounce on my strap until she came 7 times.”

You press Agatha down firmer on you, “Another.”

You were pulsing at the thought of Agatha dominating Professor Vidal. Her bratty attitude had upset you, but it had also turned you on. You wish you could put her in her place.

“I edged her for 2 hours until she nearly collapsed after squirting harder than I've ever seen anyone squirt in my life. Seeing her face down in her own juices, eyes fluttering, tongue out trying to taste herself on the floor. God, that was my favorite.”

You groan wanting more than fuck Agatha right here on your desk. She’s about to cum again while haven't came once today. It feels you are torturing yourself.

It's as if Agatha had read your thoughts. She sticks on of her hands down your pants. She slips it past the harness to feel your clit.

“You want to cum with me, professor,” Agatha smirks as she rubs your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, laying your head on her chest.

It didn't take much more for you to cum together. Your breath was ragged, and your hunger for each other was only partially satiated.

“Listen up, ‘Mrs. I don’t like sharing’ if you’re going to try to become brat tamer of the year, you aren’t doing it without me,” Agatha says placing a kiss on your cheek.

She attempts to get up, but you hold her place, “Fine, when she comes to see you,  call me. I want us both to have fun with her.”

Agatha laughs, “She’s irritating in the way you just want to fuck it out of her, isn’t she?”

You nod, “But you can’t let her know that. Her ego is too big, that’s why she’s bratty now.”

Agatha agrees with you, “Good point, I have to go teach my next class, but I’ll see you tonight. Your place, for my reward.”

She kisses you sweetly, once more  before exiting your classroom.

Now you had two things on your mind. Agatha’s reward and your opportunity to punish Rio. Both things that you were very much looking forward too.

Next part

[lotties-ashwagandha]

THE NECESSITY OF BROOMSTICKS

rio vidal x reader, 938 words

you compromise on halloween decorations with your witch girlfriend. silly stupid halloween fluff w no depth just witches because WHERE are the fluff fics for agatha all along.

Rio looks at the sign with distaste. “What the fuck is witches’ brew?”

You look at the sign you’re hanging in the kitchen, Fresh Witches’ Brew, and smile. It’s decorative, you bought it while you were out today, one of the many Halloween decorations you found to put around the house. “It’s… you know. Potions. Spells. Cauldrons.”

She tilts her head. “No one uses cauldrons anymore.”

You roll your eyes, stepping back from the sign. It matches well with your home, it adds a playful touch you suspect you need in sharing a home with Death. Rio is obviously displeased, though, standing with her arms crossed as she glares up at your decor. She’s always hated the way witches are portrayed in the media this time of year — pointy hats and bubbling cauldrons and, as you love to point out, riding on brooms.

‘I rode on a broom once,’ she reminded you furiously the other day when you had brought home a new throw pillow with a stereotypical green witch with her pointy hat riding on a broom. ‘It was necessity.’

“I bought something else,” you tell her and reach for your bag of decor. She puts on an uninterested expression, but cranes her neck to look over into your bag. This time, you pull out new coffee mugs. Hocus Pocus, they read, in giant orange lettering. You hand Rio one of the mugs.

“Oh,” she looks down at the mug and then up at you — it’s on the tip of her tongue, a remark about how witches aren’t like Hocus Pocus movie witches, but instead she places it on the kitchen counter and with an obligatory smile she thanks you. She gravitates close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching intently as you sort through the rest of your decor.

“I think I’ll go out today and get some decorations, too,” Rio announces and presses a quick kiss to your cheek — you expect to see a black lipstick stain when you next glance in the mirror. She stands up a little straighter, watching you with unwavering resolve. It sounds unnatural and dry when she says, “You’ve put me in the Halloween spirit.”

You nod, though you’re a bit hesitant. She hardly celebrates Halloween like you do — she’s more ancient than your commercialized celebrations, she views them as silly and meaningless compared to those of past centuries. It’s a night that was once viewed with much more reverence, a night that was respected with the severity it demands. Nonetheless, you’re curious as to what she will come up with to use for decorations — it’s hard to envision her trekking through the store for a scarecrow fit for the front porch.

•••

As you are putting up the last of your decorations, Rio comes in through the front door. She hauls something behind her, dragging it in through the door and propping it up on the couch: a life-sized plastic skeleton. Her gaze flits between you and it as she interprets your reaction, and you see the sense of achievement she holds.

“He was on sale,” Rio says, “so I got him some friends. They’re out on the patio sitting around that big cauldron you bought. I covered them in fake blood and drove one of my knives through one of their rib cages.”

Though inanimate, the look the skeleton on your couch wears on its bony face reflects Rio’s excitement. It’s charming, and you can only imagine the way the others she bought look sitting around your witches’ cauldron out on the patio. The vision has a smile pulling at you, and Rio’s pride in her purchases only seems to grow.

“I love him,” you nod to the skeleton on the couch. “Are you going to put him with the others?”

“No,” she digs around in a bag she brought in and pulls out a horror clown mask. “He gets to be a dead clown. You get your witch hats, I get my dead things.”

It’s a compromise you are willing to settle on for her. You know your days of traveling through the house at night for a glass of water have been ripped away until the skeleton is stored for next Halloween, but it’s a fair exchange if it means Rio will be more content in the face of your stereotyped witch decorations.

Rio slips the clown mask onto the skeleton and steps back to examine her work. She pulls out a dagger she keeps on her — you’ve told her that it is unnecessary to carry around knives constantly, but she never listens — and hands it to you. She nods to the skeleton. “Do the honors?”

“What, incriminate myself with clown murder?”

Rio nods enthusiastically. You approach the skeleton, and in a swift motion you drive the dagger into his chest.

“Beautiful,” Rio takes your hand when you come back to stand at her side. She pulls you close, and she leans in to kiss you before she stops and pulls away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, but Rio doesn’t respond, just disappears into the kitchen. “Rio?”

When she comes back, she holds your Witches’ Brew sign. She places it beside the skeleton and together you view the new addition to your seasonal decor.

“There,” Rio says. “Now it’s how it should be.”

A dead murderous clown selling witches’ brew on your couch — an addition to your household that you never would have suspected necessary, but one that makes your fall celebrations feel complete. Now Rio kisses you, peppering your face in more black lipstick stains, love outstanding the transience of autumn.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (14/20)

Well, this chapter is short but it's definitely something...

Enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: Staying away from your mommies makes you discover new things.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

Source

The aroma of fresh coffee and a faint sweet note lingered in the air, slowly pulling you out of sleep.

Still nestled in the soft sheets of the king-size bed, you stretched lazily, feeling your muscles protest against the abrupt movement.

The lingering warmth of the previous night still clung to your skin—remembering Agatha’s vulnerability, the way she let you hold her, let you see her. The heated kisses with a salty taste of tears. The glorious orgasms you had given her.

All of it was enough to make you stay in bed—in your little love nest—but the promise of caffeine was enough to gather your strength and abandon the sheets.

The mansion was quiet, except for a voice in the background—one that certainly wasn’t Agatha’s. Curious, you followed the hallway to the kitchen, where you found your Mommy sitting at the table, wrapped in a dark silk robe, her brown hair loose and unruly.

There was a duality in Agatha that you found intriguing. The subversive and intimidating appearance combined with her sarcastic and highly stern, controlling demeanor made her so… Agatha.

A full-fledged character, you thought.

In front of her, the phone screen glowed, revealing the image of Rio, who was speaking animatedly, gesturing with exaggerated movements.

“... and then, a journalist had the audacity to tell me that my series of paintings on the void of human existence was ‘too nihilistic.’ As if that were an insult,” Rio commented, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Agatha took a sip of coffee, exhaling a bored sigh. “Well, you could have thrown paint at him and claimed it was a social art experiment. I would’ve supported it.”

She hadn’t yet noticed your presence, and you pondered whether to serve yourself a cup or simply steal a sip from Agatha’s coffee. But before you could decide, Rio spotted you behind the screen and broke into a wide smile.

“Well, look who’s here... Sweetie, Mama misses you so much!!” the artist exclaimed, her accent thick and melodic.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Agatha sighed heavily, as if merely existing in the morning was already a cruel punishment.

“In the morning, Vidal? Seriously?”

Rio ignored the grumpiness with the ease of someone who was already used to it and waved insistently. “Yes. Now come here, dear, let Mama get a better look at you!”

Still drowsy, you ran a hand through your disheveled hair, trying to give it some semblance of acceptable shape, and approached, peeking over Agatha’s shoulder.

“Hi, Mama,” you murmured, your voice husky from sleep.

“You look... well-rested,” Rio commented, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

Agatha narrowed her eyes at the screen, suspicious. “Was that a euphemism?”

Rio laughed, shrugging. “If it was, I won’t admit it.”

As Agatha muttered something inaudible, you took advantage of the distraction to steal a toast from her plate.

Without even looking, Agatha stretched her hand in the air, as if predicting the move. “Drop it.”

“Too late,” you replied, chewing slowly just to provoke her.

Agatha huffed, but a nearly imperceptible smile threatened to appear at the corner of her lips.

Rio watched the scene with evident delight.

“You two are becoming one person,” she teased. “My God, my poor girl is already picking up your manners, Agatha.”

Agatha let out a dramatic sigh before taking another sip of coffee. “Wrong. She’s picking up yours, Vidal.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Stealing food from other people’s plates? Sassy remarks before breakfast? And that... disheveled hair that looks like conceptual art? You’re becoming a little Rio.”

Rio gasped theatrically. “Wrong. The disheveled hair is yours, M’lady.” She pointed to the woman beside her, whose frizzy, untamed hair bore witness to the truth of the accusation.

“Fuck you, Vidal.” Agatha flipped off her wife, who merely laughed.

Sexy and grumpy, you thought.

Rio placed a hand on her chest, feigning emotion. “Oh, Agatha, what a beautiful thing to say in the morning! I knew that deep down, you loved me.”

“If by ‘love’ you mean ‘tolerate until it explodes and makes me want to set the White House on fire,’ then yes,” Agatha retorted, unimpressed.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could argue, you realized you were holding her coffee mug—or rather, your coffee mug now—exactly the way Rio held her paintbrushes, with an air of nonchalance, as if the object had always belonged to you.

And then it hit you.

“Oh my God,” you murmured, horrified. “I’m becoming Mama.”

Rio burst into laughter. “You finally realized! Come, darling! Leave your grumpy Mommy there in Los Angeles! Let’s open a studio in Paris! You can be my assistant and steal other people’s coffee as much as you want. No limits for my little princess.”

“She already does that,” Agatha intervened, taking the mug from your hands with a stern look. “Except, instead of art, she only produces chaos.”

You gave a satisfied smirk. “Chaos is a form of art too.”

Rio snapped her fingers, proud. “My brilliant student!”

Agatha ran a hand down her face, sighing. “God. Give me patience.”

But even while grumbling, she put together a sandwich and placed it on your plate without even looking.

You smiled.

The day would be long, but you were starting to feel your energy bloom. Everything was really easier with them.

A few minutes later, after Agatha forced you to wear a purple sweater—because she loved seeing you in purple and was sure it would rain—you were inside the Audi, heading off.

The car’s engine hummed softly, filling the comfortable silence between you. The radio played a discreet instrumental melody, while Agatha kept her eyes on the road, one firm hand on the wheel and the other holding a thermal coffee cup.

You looked at your phone screen, rereading the scene you had written for Wanda.

“So,” you began, shifting in your seat. “I’m rereading Wanda’s scene and... I think I managed to capture the way she embraces magic after the twins’ death. It’s a chaotic acceptance, but also an inevitable one. Do you think it works?”

Agatha looked at you for a moment before turning back to the road, seeming in no rush to answer.

“It works,” she finally said, without taking her eyes off the street. “Because it’s true. Her magic was never a curse, but a calling. Grief only opened the doors she kept trying to shut.”

You smiled, satisfied. “I like that. How she realizes she was never a monster. She was just trying to be something she never was—human, ordinary.”

“Exactly,” Agatha nodded, her lips curling into an almost imperceptible, chaste smile. “Pain can be a catalyst or an anchor. She always had too much power to be anchored by anything other than herself.”

You were silent for a moment, mulling over the words. You liked discussing your scenes with Agatha. Even when she was critical, she always saw things you didn’t.

Locking your phone screen, you stared out the window. You could already feel your heart ache and your body weaken. It was strange how painful it was to be away from them. Your dependence was killing you.

After a few minutes, you cleared your throat. “Hm... Mommy?”

She arched an eyebrow, not taking her eyes off the road.

“Can I go out with Alice after class today?”

The car turned a corner. Three blocks. The damned three blocks before the university.

Whenever the engine stopped there, the reminder that you would never be anything more than a secret to them kept looping in your mind. You couldn't help but be bothered by it, and now more than ever, you wanted to get away from that place and everything it represented.

You noticed the way Agatha's jaw tightened. She didn’t respond immediately. She just pulled the handbrake, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel in a calculated rhythm.

Silence dragged on. You waited.

She took a deep breath, as if evaluating all possibilities, considering every little detail before making a decision.

"Fine," she finally said. "But be home by 9 PM. We’ll call your Mama."

Your eyes widened, and you smiled. "Really? We can call Mama?"

This time, Agatha shot you a sideways glance, her expression unreadable.

"Yes. She was a nervous wreck over the exhibition," you grinned, imagining Rio terrorizing the staff in her broken French, "... and I know you miss her," she murmured, turning her attention back to the road.

Your chest warmed. Rio was in Paris, busy, but you missed her—missed the way she spoke, her little jokes, and the way she could make you stop overthinking.

You couldn’t hold back your smile. The excitement was so overwhelming that, before you even thought about it, you leaned in and cupped Agatha’s face in your hands, pulling her into a firm kiss.

She froze the moment your lips touched hers, a reaction almost comical considering how relentless Agatha was in practically every situation.

But at that moment?

You completely unraveled her.

Her lips were warm, still carrying the bitter taste of coffee, and her initial shock quickly melted into an involuntary surrender.

You felt the exact moment her body’s rigidity gave way—a breath against your mouth, a hesitant movement of her hands, as if she were fighting the urge to grab your waist and pull you back in.

But you were faster. You pulled away before she could fully recover, before she could turn the tables and remind you who was really in control here.

Agatha blinked, her eyes slightly widened, as if she needed a second to process what had just happened. You took advantage of that rare moment of vulnerability and flashed a mischievous smile.

"See you later, Mommy." Your voice was slow, almost teasing, and you slipped out of the car before she could say anything.

But as you shut the door, you managed to catch the muffled sound of a frustrated sigh and the impatient tapping of nails against the steering wheel.

Satisfied, you walked toward the entrance of the university, feeling her gaze burning into your back.

The campus was bustling with students moving in all directions—laughing, talking, complaining about classes. You scanned the groups and smiled when you spotted Alice’s.

She was sitting on the edge of one of the stone benches, laughing at something a friend had said. The morning sun hit her dark hair, creating a golden halo around her head.

"Alice!" you called out with a wide grin.

She looked up at the sound of her name, and a genuine smile spread across her lips. "Hey, look who decided to show up!"

As you reached her side, you noticed three other people there—two girls and a guy, all watching you with a certain interest. There was something peculiar about their presence, something hard to define.

"Oh, let me introduce you," Alice said, sliding off the bench with the effortless grace of someone who always fit in wherever they went. "This here is Billy, that's Jennifer, and this is Yelena."

Billy was tall and lanky, with intense eyes and an easy smile, his hair messy as if he didn’t care much about it. Jennifer had an intimidating beauty, sharp eyes, and a calculated posture, while Yelena… well, she just tilted her head, observing you with a look that made something twist inside you.

"Nice to meet you all," you said, shaking each of their hands. Their grips were firm, but Billy let his fingers slide against your palm, sending a shiver up your spine.

Weird.

"So, are you feeling better today?" Alice asked, leaning casually against the bench.

"Oh. Yeah. Much better." You adjusted your backpack strap, looking at your shoes, trying to sound nonchalant. "... You know... Just wanted to let you know I’m free after class."

Billy grinned, his eyes lighting up with something you couldn’t quite read. "That’s amazing. We were just deciding whether to hang out at my place. I guess you made the decision for us, darling." He winked at you, making your cheeks flush.

Jennifer shot him a sidelong glance, a small smirk curving her lips.

"Definitely," Yelena murmured, crossing her arms.

You blinked, feeling something odd in the way they looked at you—like they were waiting for something. But Alice laughed, slipping an arm around your waist for a brief second, and any unease disappeared.

"It’ll be fun," she assured you, and you didn’t doubt that.

When the bell rang, you said goodbye and hurried off.

What the hell was that?

They had a different aura—heavy, suffocating. And you felt like you were committing some kind of sin just by talking to them.

Why?

The classroom seemed to spin around an invisible axis as you tried to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest. The sound of pens scratching against paper, the hushed whispers of students, the ticking clock—all of it felt distant, like it was happening in another reality.

You should have been focused on your test, but your mind refused to cooperate. The sharp pencil twirled between your fingers, pressing against the paper without actually writing anything.

What was this?

This unsettling, suffocating feeling of absence, of something missing?

You tried to find a rational explanation.

Maybe it was Wanda, with her green eyes that always seemed to see beyond, searching for something inside you that even you didn’t understand.

Or maybe it was Alice and her new friends, watching you with that strange, overly curious look.

They all left a burning sensation in your chest, like acid reflux.

But you knew these thoughts were shallow, that they didn’t dig deep enough to explain the tightness in your chest.

Because the truth was, this feeling came from them.

From the silent house without the sound of clinking teacups, without Agatha’s low murmurs in the morning as she cut your fruit into cute shapes.

Without Rio’s playful taps on your butt, her voice calling you "darling" as she whispered lullabies in a language you didn’t know.

You missed them with hunger, like a weight in your stomach that wouldn’t go away.

And it didn’t even make sense. You’d see them in just a few hours, you’d go back home, and everything would be there.

But the cold in your bones didn’t believe that.

It was irrational, but your body refused to accept logic. The hand holding your pencil was trembling. Your chest rose and fell in an erratic rhythm.

This wasn’t normal.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Or maybe… maybe it was something deeper, something you didn’t understand.

The nausea hit like a violent wave, without warning. Your stomach churned, and before you could think, you pushed your chair back, nearly tripping as you rushed out of the classroom. A few students glanced up at your sudden movement, but you didn’t care.

Your steps were quick and clumsy down the empty hallway, the sound of your own feet echoing on the cold tiles.

The air seemed stuck in your throat, the tightness in your chest suffocating, as if something inside you was shattering.

The bathroom was empty when you entered abruptly, causing an echo. You rushed into the nearest stall, collapsing to your knees in front of the toilet, your fingers digging into the cold porcelain as whatever this thing inside you was refused to stay contained.

Your whole body trembled.

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. A raw, painful retch made your back arch, and then—you vomited.

Your mind was.

The lack of them tore you apart.

This wasn’t normal.

It couldn’t be normal.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the bitter taste in your mouth, trying to make sense of what you were feeling. It made no sense—this desperate need, this pain that shouldn’t be there.

You would be home in a few hours. You would see Agatha. You would hear Rio’s voice. But your body didn’t believe that. Your body reacted as if you were being ripped away from them.

And why?

Why?

You got up on unsteady legs, walking to the sink to rinse your mouth. The reflection in the mirror showed your wide eyes, pale skin, a cold sweat on your forehead. You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself, trying to pretend you were fine.

But then—

A voice.

A voice that made you freeze in place.

"This can’t go on like this!"

Your heart almost stopped.

You knew that voice.

Agatha.

Your chest rose and fell erratically as your eyes darted to the door. Agatha was there. In the hallway.

With Professor Calderu?

Every part of your instincts screamed. This wasn’t normal. You had never seen Agatha here, except for the time of the lecture. Not this close to Lilia. This didn’t make sense.

But you were already standing, already taking a hesitant step out of the bathroom, your heart pounding in your throat.

They were there, standing in a more secluded corner of the hallway. Agatha had her arms crossed, a serious expression on her face, while Calderu spoke in a low voice.

You knew you shouldn’t listen.

You knew you should just move on, pretend you saw nothing.

But your instincts gave you no choice.

Your feet moved on their own.

You followed them.

Your heart was beating so hard you could almost hear it in the silence of that place.

They walked toward a corner beyond the campus, entering a hidden room that looked like something out of a medieval castle—damp stone walls, dim yellowish lighting casting distorted shadows.

You held your breath and crouched down, crawling to a small opening near the floor. Your eyes found the feet of the two women inside.

And there they were.

Agatha’s Versace heels, elegant and dangerous, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

She was furious.

"This needs to stop." Agatha’s voice cut through the air like a whip, low but laden with threat. "She’s after her like a damn wolf. Watching. Analyzing." The pause was laced with venom. "Wanting."

A shiver ran down your spine.

Were they talking about you?

Your body tensed, your knees pressing into the cold stone floor. You didn’t know what was worse: the way Agatha spoke or the fact that Calderu didn’t seem surprised.

"Lilia, I’m warning you. If this continues, I will—"

"Agatha."

Calderu’s voice was a murmur, but there was a sharp firmness in it.

"You need to calm down."

Agatha laughed. Not a real laugh, but something cold and cynical. "Calm down?" The red-soled heels stopped abruptly. "You know what will happen if she finds out. If Wanda touches her. If she decides she wants—"

"If you keep this up, you’re the one who’s going to ruin everything."

Silence.

You bit your lip, feeling your breath quicken.

What the fuck is this?

Then, Agatha exploded.

"She’s mine!"

The sound of an impact made you flinch. Something had been hit—a table, maybe. Your heart leapt so violently that your stomach twisted.

Calderu sighed. "Agatha…"

"If Wanda wants a source," Agatha spat the word like an insult, "she better find another one. I’ve been patient enough!"

Source?

What?

Your mind reeled, trying to make sense of the conversation.

Wanda. Agatha. Rio. Calderu.

You.

What was happening?

You swallowed hard, breathing carefully to avoid making a sound.

You wanted to run. Or go in there, straight to them, and scream for answers. You wanted to disappear, to go back to your old home and not see the sun for a long time.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, your phone vibrated with an iMessage notification, nearly making you jump.

Alice: We’re in the parking lot. Billy’s car is the red one.

Shit.

Right.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to leave.

Your hands trembled as you closed your phone, the glow of the screen feeling too bright for your eyes.

You needed to leave.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, adrenaline burning through your veins as you turned around and ran down the stone hallway. The walls felt narrower, the air denser.

You needed to leave. Now.

Hurried footsteps echoed, your eyes scanning the surroundings, making sure no one saw you. Thick raindrops stained your sweater. And suddenly, you felt the urge to laugh like a lunatic.

It was raining.

And Agatha was never wrong.

The woman was like a damn witch who could predict the future.

You pushed open the exit door and were met with the cold air of the parking lot.

The red car.

There it was, parked under the white glow of the streetlights. Alice was leaning against the door, scrolling through her phone, while Billy and Yelena stood nearby, cigarettes between their lips, their noses inhaling the nicotine. Jennifer sat in the passenger seat, looking at something in the rearview mirror.

Alice looked up and smiled.

But you couldn’t smile back.

Your steps were heavy as you approached. The lump in your throat felt impossible to swallow. Your vision was slightly blurred.

"What happened?" Alice asked as soon as you got close.

"Nothing," your voice came out weaker than it should have.

Billy opened the back door, stomping out his cigarette. "Get in already, it’s fucking freezing out here."

You got in.

The seat was soft. The smell of leather mixed with nicotine filled your lungs. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

But it didn’t help.

Your stomach twisted in involuntary spasms, as if something inside you was writhing the wrong way.

A sickness took over you, burning your skin, trembling and strange. You clenched your hands in your lap, trying to focus on anything other than your body.

Agatha’s Versace heels.

The sharp edge of her voice.

"She’s mine!"

Your insides knotted, nausea surging with force.

No.

No.

No.

You rolled down the window, desperate for air. But the world spun. The cold metal under your fingers wasn’t enough to anchor you. You didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know why your body was reacting like this—

"Hey," Alice called. "Are you okay?"

You didn’t know how to answer. And before you could say anything, the car engine started, wasting no time in pulling away.

Billy’s house was unlike any you had ever entered.

The lighting was dim, coming from yellow-tinted lamps that resembled candles scattered in different corners. Shadows danced across the walls, giving the room an unsettling air.

The furniture was heavy, made of dark wood, arranged in a way that suggested Billy lived alone. No overly personal touches. No family photos.

But what really caught your attention were the images.

Paintings and ancient tapestries covered the walls, all depicting female figures with intense gazes and dark garments. Some held the severed heads of men; others danced in circles, engulfed in flames.

You swallowed hard.

"Shall we begin?" Billy asked, tossing a strange deck of cards onto the table.

The "party" was an afternoon of games.

But the games were anything but conventional.

Alice laughed beside you, shuffling the cards with unnerving agility, as if she had done it all her life. Jennifer lit another candle. Yelena unfolded a carved wooden board.

You sat, watching.

Billy smiled sharply, his fingers gliding over the cards as if they were an extension of himself.

"Let's play Three Truths."

Alice laughed next to you, tapping the table excitedly. "You're gonna love it!"

You weren’t so sure.

Jennifer lit a candle, and the flame flickered, casting eerie shadows across the room. Yelena opened the wooden board, her cold, curious eyes locked onto your reaction.

You shifted uncomfortably on the rug. "What kind of game is this?"

Billy stacked the deck in the center of the table and began to explain:

"Each player gets three cards, face down." He flipped the top card, and a strange symbol shimmered for a second before vanishing.

"One card reveals who you are." He turned another, this time showing an illustration of a woman holding a cracked mirror.

"Another reveals what you desire." The third card displayed a disturbing image of a pair of green eyes, surrounded by a veil of shadows.

Your stomach twisted.

Billy’s smile widened. "And the last one reveals what is hidden inside you."

Your heart pounded in your chest.

"Is this serious?" Your voice came out tenser than you'd intended.

Alice leaned closer, her eyes glinting with something indefinable. "The thing is... the cards tell the truth. Always."

Jennifer chuckled softly. "But they only reveal what’s already inside you, you know?"

Yelena rested her elbows on the table, fingers interlaced in front of her face, never breaking eye contact. "Think you can handle it?"

The words sounded like a challenge.

Your gaze flicked to the deck on the table. Something about it made your skin crawl.

"But it’s just a game, right?"

Billy spun a card between his fingers, his smile enigmatic.

"Depends on what you believe."

Yelena picked up her three cards without hesitation, her fingers gliding over the thick paper edges. Billy smirked, amused, while Alice drummed her fingers on the table.

"Come on, Belova," Jennifer teased, resting her chin in her hands. "Show us what you're made of."

Yelena rolled her eyes but flipped the first card.

The Lady of the Blade.

Billy let out a low whistle. "Well, look at that. Always ready for the attack."

Alice laughed, leaning toward you. "It’s the card of someone who lives to defend themselves."

Yelena raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "Shocking absolutely no one."

You watched in silence, your heart still racing from the rules explanation. So this was how it worked?

She flipped the second card.

The Caged Heart.

This time, Jennifer laughed. "Oof. Emotional blockages?"

Yelena crossed her arms, feigning indifference. "I’m just very selective."

Billy tapped the card with his finger. "Or maybe you're holding onto something even you don’t want to see."

You swallowed hard.

The last card turned.

The Call of the Void.

This time, no one laughed immediately. The illustration on the card depicted a faceless shadow, arms outstretched, beckoning someone into the darkness.

Alice leaned in slightly, her smile fading.

"Interesting."

Jennifer cleared her throat, trying to lighten the mood. "So… you want something you can't have but are afraid to admit it?"

Yelena clicked her tongue, gathering the cards back. "Maybe this fucking game is a massive waste of time."

Billy just smiled. "Or maybe the cards don’t lie."

Silence weighed for a moment.

You swallowed hard, feeling a chill creep up your spine.

Alice shuffled the cards again, her eyes gleaming as she pushed the deck toward you.

"Your turn."

You hesitated. The room hadn’t felt this warm before.

Billy smiled almost gently, but there was something curious in his gaze. "No need to be afraid. The game only shows what’s already inside you."

"Great," you muttered sarcastically. "That makes everything so much better."

Alice laughed, nudging your arm. "Come on, just pick them."

Slowly, you reached out, taking three cards and placing them face down on the table. Your chest tightened. It was just a game. Right?

"Go on, flip them," Jennifer encouraged.

Taking a deep breath, you turned the first one.

The Lost Path.

Alice frowned. Billy let out a low whistle.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"Why?" you asked, a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Yelena clicked her tongue. "Because it means you don’t know where you’re going. But someone does."

A shiver ran up your spine.

You flipped the second card.

The Invisible Chains.

Their reaction was even quieter this time.

Jennifer cleared her throat. "Well… that’s pretty straightforward."

"Is that good or bad?" you asked, but you already knew the answer.

Alice bit her lip, leaning over the table. "It means you're bound to something… or someone."

Your mouth went dry.

They waited.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you turned the last card.

The Hidden Source.

Silence fell.

The crackling of the candles suddenly seemed deafening.

Alice's eyes widened. Billy frowned, looking… impressed? Jennifer held her breath.

Yelena straightened in her chair.

A chill ran through you, your gaze locked on the card’s illustration. A spring of black water gushed from a crack in the ground, shadows spiraling around it, as if ready to consume anyone who got too close.

Billy licked his lips, resting his elbows on the table.

"Well," he said finally. "Looks like we found what we were looking for."

~*~

Okay, okay... Maybe there magic in this universe hahaha. Deal with it.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights

[saphiccarma]

y'all are kinky and will fw this so Nat showing off her pretty pet (you) to all her girl friends. @another-fantasy-world helped with this again :D

Nat had originally only invited Wanda, Maria and Carol. Then Wanda invited Darcy and Agatha (who brought her wife Rio) and Carol invited Monica and Valkyrie.

It was a whole crowd of women, there for dinner and...dessert.

Before everyone had arrived you were stripped of your clothes, everything aside from a pair of vibrating undies and a lacy bra that barely covered anything.

You weren't restrained, which was a challenge in it of itself.

"You're going to stay still, yes?" Natasha adjusted you on the table, tapping your knees apart, "I don't want to have to tie you up and mark this pretty skin."

That was a lie, she loved marking you up.

A collar was clipped around your throat, a smooth black and a leash attatched to it, held in Natasha's hand.

Regardless you were left on the table, nearly shaking with anticipation and the vibrator wasn't even on. Sitting your knees, hands open and resting on your thighs, you tried to keep your back straight.

The guests trickled in as the time ticked on, their eyes lingering on you and the way you were a bright red from embarrasement.

Everyone ate food and chatted casually, not even speaking to you. You weren't there.

Occasionally Nat would tug on the leash from where she sat in front of you and you would lean forward to accept a bite of food, sticking your ass out and right into Rio's face.

She smacked it, earning a yelp from you.

"No touching."

Natasha was dead serious but her lips quirked upwards at your flushed cheeks.

Then the vibrator turns on. Buzzing at a low setting first before increasingly steadily.

"She's shaking Natalia," Wanda remarked, humming.

Agatha scoffed, "She could do much better, if she were my pet I would have them tied up."

They talked as if you weren't there, chattering around you and with each other about how pretty and pathetic you looked.

It wasn't long before you were close to coming, whining and struggling to stay upright.

"Nat-" you whimper, "Daddy- please please please- wanna cum I'm so close-"

She doesn't even acknowledge you, eating another bite of steak and continuing to chat with her friends.

Your pleas continue to babble on for a while until everyone is stiffling their laughs.

Natasha finally lets you cum, after what felt like an hour of waiting (it was five minutes)

Your panties are soaked through and everyone is still ignoring you like nothing happened. Although there are a few remarks about how pretty you look and how you're dripping onto the table.

"My wine glass is drier than she is," Maria remarked, watching you with critical blue eyes.

The vibrations had ceased as you came down from your high. Slowing down until they were nothing.

Dinner droned on but it wasn't long before you had your soaked panties in your mouth because you were making too much noise. And a dildo mounted onto the table beneath you.

Once again, you were forced to put on a show, bouncing up and down on the toy, sounds muffled by your panties.

The table shook slightly which earned you faux coos of sympathy and some degrading remarks.

And, like before, you cum rather quickly - this time without having to ask.

Your cum drips all down the dildo and all over the table.

And after that? They clean up dinner, forcing you to stay on the table and wait.

Then Natasha fucks you on her strap while the ladies take turns using your tongue.

Wanda talks you through it, nice and slow.

You eat Rio out while Agatha plays with her nipples.

Those were the two highlights, but everyone used your tongue in some way, they just couldn't touch you.

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 2)

A look into Agatha and Rio's home life, and you are reeling from having The Witch and Lady Death in your motel room

Word count: 4200

Warnings: mentions of murder, manipulativeness, light gaslighting

The same morning you get called to Westview, Agatha Harkness wakes up to find her wife, Rio Vidal, staring at her. 

“If you were going to kill me, how would you do it?” Rio asks, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. 

“Good morning to you, too,” she groans, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at Rio, who is lounging in the chair in the corner. “How long have you been watching me sleep?” 

Rio shrugs. “You make it sound like I’m some serial killer who’s about to murder you.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially and Agatha snorts before plopping back down. 

“She’s getting here today, you know,” Agatha says and she can hear Rio’s breath hitch. 

She leans forward in the chair. “When do you think she’ll come see me?” The eagerness is evident in her voice, and Agatha knows how she feels. 

“Once we pull off our little ‘Welcome to Westview’ stunt tonight? I bet no time at all,” Agatha answers. 

Rio grins, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and picks up the skeleton mask sitting on the dresser. She fiddles with the strings and holds it up to her face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Miami director books the appointment himself. Do police detectives usually include a business card to their wife’s therapy practice in their information file to the FBI?” 

“Better hope he doesn’t just pull her off the case,” Agatha remarks, ignoring the question, and finally gets up out of bed and walks past the bouquet of purple azaleas on the vanity. “He’s pretty serious when it comes to protecting her. Especially after…” 

“No,” Rio cuts her off and Agatha looks at her wife in surprise. Rio puts her mask down, stands up, and walks over so she’s face-to-face with the older woman. She reaches a hand out to put it gently around Agatha’s throat, who doesn’t even flinch. Rio smirks and drags her hand downward so it’s resting over her heart. “We’re finally getting what we want. Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for this? For her? I’m not letting her go.”

Agatha tilts her head to the side, thinking for a second. “If I were going to kill you, I’d fill a syringe with air and inject it into your bloodstream under your toenail. The death would mimic a heart attack and the track mark would be almost impossible to find. I’d tell the authorities that you were under so much stress as a therapist that it eventually took a toll on your body,” she says slowly, clinically even, watching Rio’s hazel eyes get dark. 

She hums and looks down at Agatha’s lips. “You really know how to make a lady swoon.” Rio gives her a quick peck and leaves the room so her wife can get ready for work. 

On her way to the kitchen, Rio steps into the spare room in the hallway and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension seeping from her muscles. The table in the middle of the room is covered in vials, all Agatha’s doing. They don’t call her The Witch for nothing, Rio thinks. She picks up her own dagger and twirls it between her practiced fingers while she admires the handiwork on the left side of the room. 

From ceiling to floor, the wall is completely covered with you. Every single case file you’ve profiled for, pictures of you from now all the way back to your childhood, transcripts from Quantico and college. Rio’s favorite photo hangs front and center, the one of the scar you got from dealing with the Scarlet Killer, all rough and jagged. 

Rio would’ve made it prettier. 

Patience, she reminds herself. 

The trap has been laid. All that’s left to do is wait. 

***

You turn the entire motel room upside down, scourging for anything else the killers may have left behind: a camera or a listening device, or maybe even a clue. 

Nothing. 

And then you kick yourself for touching everything because now you can’t even test for prints. Plus, it’s a motel room so you’re not sure you’d be able to narrow it down. 

The phone is in your hand dialing Tony back before you can think. He doesn’t answer and you slam it down on the bed in frustration. 

They were here. The Witch and Lady Death were in your room. 

You draw the blinds and deadbolt the door, making a mental note to ask the front desk to change the locks. How did they get in? How did they know you were going to get food? 

A cold feeling sinks into your bones. They must be watching you. 

And what’s to stop them from coming back? This time though, when you’re in the room? 

Anyone could be next. Agatha’s words echo around in your head and you didn’t realize just how true they are until now. 

You don’t realize you’re hyperventilating until you feel dizzy and gag. Then you run to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. Wiping a hand across your sweaty forehead, your mind spins with what to do. 

You could call the police, but you don’t think they would do any good, especially after you’ve tampered with evidence. There were no cameras in this motel, you had already checked. 

Pacing back and forth, head in your hands, you try and try and try to think of what to do. 

And finally you think of something. 

You punch in the number and hold the phone up to your ear. 

It rings three times and then there’s a click. 

“Dr. Rio Vidal’s office, if this is an emergency please hang up the phone and call 911. If not, this is Dr. Vidal, how can I help you?” 

You take a shaky breath and press your fingers to your forehead to stave off the incoming headache. “Um, yes, hi, I was calling to see if I could make an appointment? The sooner, the better.” 

There’s shuffling and then tapping of keys on a computer. “What’s your name?” When you say it, you hear a sharp inhale and then a cough. “Sorry about that. How does 1 pm tomorrow sound?” 

You blink. You didn’t realize you’d be able to get in that fast, but you suppose in a small town like Westview, not many people are going to therapy. “Yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Thank you.” 

“Bye, Agent Y/L/N,” she says. You frown. You never told her you were an agent. But you figure it’s been announced that you’re coming, so you brush it off. 

You take a quick shower and then get into bed, trying to relax and maybe get some sleep. You promised Tony you’d get five hours a night, but you’ll be lucky if you even get one. 

At every groan and creak, you jump and grab your gun, sitting up completely alert. It’s always the wind or a tree branch or the building settling. 

You lay under the sheets, hand gripped around your weapon, and you don’t sleep a wink. 

When you get to the station the next morning, the first person you see is Agatha. She looks up at you, takes in your new outfit, and smiles brightly. 

The killers replaced all your clothes so you had no choice but to wear the new ones until you’re able to go shopping. You wouldn’t be surprised if they laced the fabric with something and you end up dead before lunch, but it’s snowing today and you had nothing else to wear. 

“Have a good first night in Westview?” She asks and you cautiously glance around the room. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” You ask urgently, voice low. Concern flits onto her face and she nods and stands up. She pulls you into the evidence locker. “They were at my motel last night,” you hiss. 

Agatha’s hand flies to her mouth. “The killers? Are you sure?” 

You nod furiously. “I had left to get food and when I came back, the door was open and they had packed my suitcase with all new stuff—” You motion down at your body and she checks you out again. “—and perfume and then they circled ‘lovers’ on a sticky note I had to tell me their relationship and they left the flower on my table!” 

“Slow down,” Agatha says and you realize you’ve been talking so fast that you haven’t taken a breath. She puts her hands on your shoulders. “Did you see them? Did they come back?” 

“No, not yet at least. I don’t understand, if they wanted to kill me, why not just wait until I was there? Or asleep?” 

“Maybe they didn’t want to kill you,” Agatha suggests. “Maybe they just wanted to send you a message or something. It’s pretty big news that we have a profiler from the FBI here to help stop them.” 

You frown. “So they wanted to let me know they’re not scared of me?” 

She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Who knows what they’re thinking. But the most important thing is that you’re okay. We can send over some officers later to test for evidence, if you want.” 

“It’s no use, I tore the place apart last night,” you say, shaking your head at your own stupidity. She squeezes your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t worry. Like you said, if they wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Let’s go out there and work on catching them so you and everyone else in Westview can sleep easy, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling a little better but then you pause. “Agatha, are you afraid?”

Something flickers in her eyes before it's quickly replaced by humor. “I think they know better than to break into the home of a decorated detective such as myself,” she says haughtily and you can’t help but to laugh. She chuckles too, but then something in her face changes. 

Before you can ask what’s wrong, she leans in and sniffs up your neck. You freeze and find all the air in your lungs gone. 

“New perfume?” She mutters. 

You had put it on this morning without even thinking about it as your usual had also been taken. Thanatos. The Greek personification of death. 

Or as Freud defined it, a person’s urge to die. 

“Yeah,” you stutter. Agatha finally pulls back and her blue eyes are dilated. You find your gaze dropping down to her mouth again and you want to feel her lips on yours. 

“You said they packed your suitcase with all new stuff,” she says in a hushed voice and your heartbeat picks up. “Did they give you that too?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, and instead of looking disgusted, like you thought she would, she looks excited. 

She leans back in and presses her face into your neck and are you imagining her lips ghosting against your skin or is that really happening? It feels like your entire body is on fire. 

They trail up, light as a feather against your jugular vein, and she’s at your chin when the door slams open and you jump back. She winks and then she’s turning on her heel and walking out. It’s an officer, trying to book evidence, looking very confused. 

“Making friends, Miami?” He jokes and your face flushes before you quickly leave the room before finding Agatha and the rest of the detectives back in the room with the case information. 

You tirelessly pour over every single detail for the next few hours to no avail. You toss out theories but Agatha always finds something that doesn’t add up and you’re always back to square one. 

But then it’s time for your therapy appointment, so you drop your pen down to the table and gather the pages of your chicken scratch to throw in your bag. 

“I have to head out,” you say hastily and Agatha glances up. 

“Hot date, superstar?” She teases and the memory of her mouth on your neck burns through you. 

You shake your head. “Just uh, going to the doctor.” 

She raises an eyebrow daringly and smirks. “Have fun.” 

You give her a tight smile and then you’re in your car driving to the office. There’s people walking on the street on your route and you can’t help but wonder which of them might be the next victim. 

It’s always been hard to not get too attached to the people in the towns you work at. Looking at them, knowing tomorrow they might not be alive, it takes a toll on you. 

That’s part of the reason you get so attached. The waiting, the not knowing. It eats away at you. 

Dr. Vidal’s office is tucked away in the corner of a string of workspaces in a building, and you feel something weird in your stomach as you walk up the steps. For the third time in the past 24 hours, your scar sears with a pain you haven’t felt since right after. You have to stop and breathe deeply before opening the door. 

A woman sits at the front desk typing on her computer. She barely even looks at you and you stand at the desk for a moment before clearing your throat. 

“Um, hi, I have an appointment for one? I’m Y/N,” you say and it’s like she’s finally realized someone’s standing there. 

She hums in acknowledgement and scrolls until she finds your name and clicks. “The doctor will be with you shortly.” 

You tap the desk and go sit down, wiping your palms on your pants. It’s only a few minutes before a door opens and your name is called. 

Walking into the room, the first thing you notice is the thick smell of nature. And then you see plants everywhere. Bookshelves line the walls, full with books and pots of every type of plant and flower you’ve ever seen. Your eyes narrow, but you don’t see anything purple. 

And then you see Dr. Vidal sitting behind a large desk. You tentatively take a seat in one of the chairs across from her, squirming under her intense gaze. She’s an attractive woman, hair pulled back into a tight bun and brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. There’s not a hair out of place on her desk; everything is meticulously organized and right where she needs it. 

You clear your throat. “Big plant lover?” You say, and it’s an incredibly awkward way to make a first impression. You’ve never been good at therapy, or with uncomfortable silences. 

But she doesn’t seem to care, finds it almost amusing. Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek and she settles forward. “So, what brings you to therapy?” 

You don’t even know where to start. “I just got to town, and um, oh – I’m a profiler, by the way, for the FBI. I’m here working on the case with The Witch and Lady Death.” 

“Lady Death?” Dr. Vidal asks, giving you an intrigued look. 

“Oh, we figured out that there’s actually two killers. That’s what I nicknamed the other one, because apparently she’s been seen with the bottom half of a skeleton mask on her face. Wait, this is all confidential right?” 

“Of course,” she assures you, voice smooth as honey. “Anything you say here doesn’t leave this room unless you threaten to hurt yourself or someone else. So, you’re here about the case?” 

You nod, playing with the hem of your sweater. “Yeah, you could say that. I sort of have some obsessive tendencies when it comes to cases like these, and I just wanted to get ahead of them before I spiraled again.” 

“What does a spiral look like for you?” 

Chewing on your nail, your gut twists and you can feel Wanda’s knife jabbing into you. “I stop eating, stop sleeping. The work consumes me, I can’t take a break. I don’t want to take a break. There’s just this overwhelming need to catch the killer and I won’t stop – I can’t stop – until I find them. It can be dangerous.” 

She nods and writes something down in her notebook. “Why did you become a profiler?” 

“To help people,” you answer immediately. “I like reading the killers, figuring out what they’re thinking, getting inside their heads and beating them at their own game.” 

“When did you start knowing you wanted to do this? Why not just become a detective or something?” 

This one takes a bit longer to think about. “I don’t know, I just remember being a kid and wanting to…” You trail off, suddenly feeling confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I was going to say.” Something is weird, wrong even. What were you thinking of? 

“No, don’t apologize,” Dr. Vidal says, laying her hands on the desk with wide eyes. “You wanted to what as a kid? What happened that made you want to think like a killer?” 

A dull ache starts to throb against your skull the harder you try and think about it. “I don’t know,” you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m not thinking like a killer, I’m figuring out the way their brain works. So I can catch them.” 

She leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you feel when you think like them?” 

“What does this have to do with–” But you’re cut off by a blinding burst of pain and then glimpses of something you can’t quite explain flash through your mind. 

Snow. 

Trees. 

A clearing in the woods. 

Red birds flutter from the branches, startled by something. 

You hear your name and the images are gone. Dr. Vidal is watching you closely, breathing heavily. “What was that?” 

Shaking your head, you try to make sense of what just happened. Memories or hallucinations? “Um, sorry, I don’t know. What was the question?” 

Her eyes are dark and they remind you of Agatha’s in the evidence locker. How she had leaned down and smelled the perfume you were wearing. You shift in your chair. 

“I was asking what your coping mechanisms are for when you start to feel yourself spiraling,” she says, and you’re still a little foggy, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what she asked. 

You think you might be going crazy. “My boss back in Miami was pretty good about recognizing when I needed to take a step back. I’m trying to not get too involved and make sure I’m eating and staying hydrated and sleeping enough. And I’m here, so I think this should help.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” Dr. Vidal says with a smile. “If you ever start to feel too drawn in, take three deep breaths and then do the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Are you familiar?” 

You almost roll your eyes. That’s exactly what they told you to do during your mandated therapy. Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It was meant to ground you and reduce your anxiety. 

“Yeah, I’ve tried it a few times, but it didn’t really work for me,” you admit and she waves dismissively. 

She quickly scribbles something down and rips out a chunk of paper, sliding it across to you. “This is my cell,” she says. “Call me anytime, day or night, if you ever need to talk. Sometimes that’s the best way to calm down. I know you’re new here, but do you have anyone else, maybe someone you’ve been working with that you could talk to if you need to?” 

“There’s this one woman I work with that’s pretty nice. She’s the main detective on the case, so I think I could reach out if I really needed to,” you say and she looks pleased. 

“Detective Harkness?” Dr. Vidal asks. 

In a small town, people are bound to be familiar with each other. “Um, yeah, do you know her?” 

She smirks. “Very well. She’s quite attractive, don’t you think?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Is everyone in this place weird? “I mean, sure, of course. Are you allowed to say that?” 

“Well, she’s my wife so I would hope so.” 

Your mouth drops open. Her lips on your skin, ghosting along your neck, filling you with heat and a need for more. “Oh, I’m so sorry for saying that, I had no idea, obviously. We just work together.” 

“Don’t be, doll. I’m sure the two of you would make quite the pair,” Dr. Vidal says, and you ignore the possible unprofessionalism at the pet name. She doesn’t seem offended at all, only fascinated. 

You shift in your seat again while trying to figure out what to say. “Well–” you start, but she cuts you off. 

“Let me guess, she’s been flirting?” 

Fuck. What do you even say? Is Dr. Vidal going to be mad, say she can’t treat you anymore? It’s not your fault, you hadn’t done anything. 

She scoffs. “You’re such a pretty young thing, I can’t blame her. You’ll have to come over for dinner with us some night.” 

“Um, is that allowed?” You ask, blinking slowly. You have absolutely no idea what is going on. Is your therapist suggesting a threesome with you and her wife and woman you’re working with? 

“Getting a meal with your support system? Why wouldn’t it be?” When she phrases it like that, it’s hard to find an error with her logic. 

You shrug. It would be nice to be able to talk freely about things. And you’re sure Agatha has told her about the case already. “Yeah, okay.”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?” 

The question weighs on your mind as you chew on your lip and debate whether or not to tell her about the images you just saw. You don’t remember ever being in those woods. “Do patients ever, I don’t know, see things while they talk to you? Like false memories or something?” 

This gets her attention. “What did you see?” 

“Snow, and woods, and a flock of birds. I don’t know, it felt familiar but I’ve never…” You try to put it into words, but you don’t know how. 

“What happens when you try to follow that memory?” She asks and you close your eyes, but there’s nothing. 

“I–I can’t. There was like a pain in my head when you asked about what made me want to think like a killer, and then I saw it, but it’s not happening now.” You sound defeated, a testament to your frustration. 

Dr. Vidal frowns. “Do you know what repressed memories are? And I never asked you that.” 

It’s like the floor tilts under you and you stare blankly at her. You can only focus on the latter part. “No, you did, I remember…” You start to breathe heavily, panic rising in your chest, and she comes over to rub at your back. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s possible you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by all this. I think you need to go home and get some rest. Did you sleep last night?” 

It makes sense to you now. You didn’t sleep at all, your brain is just playing tricks on you. “No.” 

She nods. “Go home. Take a nap. Let’s book a follow up, though. See if we can get to the bottom of those images.” 

You choose to come back in three days in the afternoon again and then you drive back to the motel. Your exhaustion suddenly weighs a ton and all you have to do is stumble in your room, collapse on the bed, and you pass out. 

The snow crunches underneath your boots as you trode through it. Branches claw at your legs through your pants and the wind whips your cheeks. 

It’s cold, but you can’t feel it. 

Where are you going? You don’t know, but your legs do. They take you through the woods into the clearing. 

You stand alone for a few minutes and then you hear someone – something? – approaching. 

A purple wolf. 

You crouch down to your knees and it saunters up to you. One eye is a piercing blue, the other is hazel. 

So familiar, yet otherworldly. You don’t understand. 

It opens its mouth to say something, and you’re leaning in to make sure you hear it, when –

Your phone rings and it jolts you awake in a cold sweat. You roll over in bed to find you’ve been asleep for hours. You reach for your phone when you realize that you’re completely naked. 

How did that happen? 

When you were younger, you know you had problems with sleep-walking, but you would always keep your clothes on. You file that away to talk to Dr. Vidal about next time. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, not even checking who’s on the other line. 

“It’s Agatha,” the voice says and it’s like a bucket of cold water gets thrown on you. “There’s been another murder.”

[steinfellds]

you need to love her

pairing: dark!rio vidal x afab!reader

summary: after you're last attempt to escape, rio is at her wit's ends and decides to put an end to it.

content: noncon, kidnapping, pussy eating, bondage, manipulation, mind controlling, being in pain.

The witch's sickening laughter echoed throughout the forest, raising the hair on your arms. The horizon had turned a deep orange, and the moon peeked out.

You were running out of time.

Navigating through the forest during the day would have been difficult, but the night would be impossible. The scared shitless part of you screamed to turn around and hope that her punishment would be forgiving, but the other part of you believed you could still escape in the dark.

"You can run, but you can't hide."

You shuddered. Rio's voice sounded close. Too close. Even with her cringe movie line, she still terrified the living fuck out of you.

A bloom of hope exploded in your chest. The village — your home before they abducted you — stood in the distance. There was a protection ring around the village, warding away evil. All you needed to do was step inside the ring, and you would be safe. The witch couldn't enter.

A sharp pain spread across your back, and you collapsed to the floor. You screamed in frustration. Your muscles were too weak to pull you back to your feet; fighting was the only option. With a struggle, you turned to face your captor.

"Congratulations, my love." Rio bowed dramatically. "You, once again, failed to escape."

You glared at her. You weren't in the mood for her sarcastic, dick remarks.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you weren't such a pussy I would have a fair chance." you hissed. "You are nothing without your magik."

Rio drily laughed. The sharp pain returned, this time, all over your body. It felt like your bones were being snapped in half, only to be rebuilt and snapped again. It was unbearable.

Rio crouched, brushing the hair off your sticky forehead. The pout on her lips held no sympathy; it only mocked you. You were barely able to keep your eyes open as she spoke. "Do you know what it feels like to give someone your everything, only for them to leave you at every chance they get?" If you could've, you would have spat in her face. "It feels like this,"

Your vision went white, and your body went limp. Rio screamed loudly, or wait, was that you? You couldn't tell. All you knew was that this pain was going to kill you. There were no words to describe how horrific it was. Then everything stopped, and your world went black.

***

You groaned in discomfort as you woke, feeling like your limbs weighed a thousand pounds and your throat was drier than the Sahara Desert. You were lying on her bed with your arms tied above your head, and your legs spread open. A cool breeze brushed against your naked form, making you shiver.

"R-Rio?" You croaked out. You didn't like not knowing where the witch was.

A sob built up in your throat. You don't know how long Rio has kept you captive; you stopped counting after the second winter. You have never stopped trying to escape; it was pushing Rio to her limit. Her punishments have become worse.

"Now you call for me?" Rio questioned with a disgusted tone.

You swallowed, eyes brimming with tears. She ran her fingernails up your thigh, brushing over your clit and making you clench around air before she slapped the skin harshly. You cried out and tried to twist away from her.

"What am I doing wrong?" she softly asked, "Why don't you love me?"

Her words made you laugh. "Because you're an insane bitch!"

A brief flicker of sadness washed over her face. She stood up straighter, a ball of green magik resting in the palm of her hand. She placed her fingertips at your temple.

"I never wanted to do this," she said. "I wanted you to love me yourself, but you've left me no choice."

You thrashed against your restraints, anger bubbling in your chest. You had never felt such rage in your life. You wanted to drive a knife into her chest and watch with glee as the life left her eyes.

"Fuck you!" you spat.

"You love me," she calmly spoke.

"No, I fucking don't."

"You love me," she said firmly.

You wanted to tell her you didn't, but your words died on the tip of your tongue. It didn't feel right to scream the words at her again. All Rio wanted was to keep you safe and loved, but you kept denying her. Why? Why are you denying her?

"You love me,"

Your brows furrowed. You know you aren't meant to love her, but can't remember why. How could you hate such a beautiful face?

"Say it. Say that you love me,"

Oh, right. Rio had eaten the last biscuit that she swore she would save for you.

"Absolutely not! I am not loving you back until you get me another biscuit," you laughed, trying to push Rio away from you but couldn't. "Mind getting me out of these, you freak?"

Rio grinned, untying your limbs from the restraints. She straddled your hips and pinned your wrists above your head again. She trailed her lips down your face to your neck, over your chest, before settling herself between your thighs.

"How about I make it up to you?"

You moaned as her lips wrapped around your clit, her tongue darting against your sensitive bud. You buried your fingers in her hair, pulling her closer to your cunt. Rio lapped at you like it was her last meal.

"Oh, fuck." you threw your head backwards and moaned. "Just like that, baby."

Rio hummed into your pussy, sending a pleasurable wave. Two of her fingers slipped inside and curled upwards. You gasped, clutching the sheets below you.

"I-I think I'm gonna-"

Your sentence was cut short as your orgasm hit you. You whined loudly, your lip caught between your teeth. Your eyes fluttered closed, and your back arched. Rio refused to pull away, quickly working you into your second orgasm.

"How was that for an apology?" she laughed.

You smiled, grabbing the back of her neck and kissing her deeply. You groaned at the taste of you on her lips.

"Maybe I do love you," you teased.

Her face morphed into anger. "Say it properly,"

You laughed awkwardly, patting the side of her cheek. "I love you, Rio."

She smiled. "Good,"