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Awash In Crimson Wine - Agatha x Succubus!Rio

A/N Hi guys!! You asked and you shall receive! This story takes place in a universe where instead of trapping her in westview, Wanda lets Agatha go with a fraction of the power she once had. Just a silly little fic to sooth my Agathario cravings in between episodes! I’m gonna try and get new chapters out every other day or so.

Title from From Eden by Hozier

***********************************

It started with a flicker, unsuspecting and uninteresting. Agatha was rooting through some old spell books to try and find a glamour enchantment to attract sexual desire. It was a childish whim, made in her desperation to regain some semblance of control. Wanda left her weak, and with so much of her power gone, she felt her grip on those around her loosen significantly.

It was jarring, a loss too odd to articulate, when you go from bending the will of others at your whim to an indifferent force in the world around you. Agatha craved it, that feeling of utter control, more than anything else Wanda took from her. She knew she had to get it back, even if she had to start at the bottom and claw back to the top. She had to start with what she knew to be the easiest, simplest way to attract total devotion‒ through sexual desire.

The spell went, for the most part, just as she had planned. The ingredients were easy enough to find. Roses, honey, salt, red candles, and some kitchen spices you could knick from any grocery store. Simple, easy witchcraft she’s been capable of for centuries. The shift in energy would’ve been imperceptible to most, but to Agatha, the sudden, illogical flicker of each candle in unison made her hairs stand on end.

Still, she chalked it up to Wanda's ever lingering damage and went about the rest of the ritual as she always had. It wasn’t until that night that she understood the true gravity of her error.

The warmth stroked her every muscle with a tender hand, lulling her into an inky black sleep. Each pulse of her heartbeat sent liquid gold to her limbs, bringing her closer and closer to bliss. An orange light surrounded her, and a laugh like honey rang in her ears as a hand reached out to touch her. First her shoulder, trailing up to her cheek, then down to her knee. Through hazy, lidded eyes, she peered up at the golden light. A woman, dark haired and effervescent, peered back at her, smiling through red lips. Her tongue darted out to wet them, and it sent electricity all through Agatha's body. The woman's hand trailed slowly up her leg, past her robe, and grazed her upper thigh with a torturous, feather light touch. Every inch of contact was like fire, warmth blooming in her chest as she gazed at the woman. She felt magnetized to her, like any inch of space between them was an inch too much. Agatha leaned in to press her lips against hers, but before she could get any further, she felt a piercing pain in her thigh. Yelping, she pulled back to see long fingernails emerge from under her robe, dripping with blood. The woman laughed, the sound radiating as she licked her fingers.

Agatha shot awake in bed, body drenched in sweat. She ripped the covers off of her body and peeled back her robes, dreading to see what she already knew was there. Four long claw marks stared back at her, etched into her skin and trickling blood. Worse than that was the ache radiating from her core, needy and clearly present. She shoved her head back into her pillow and groaned at her stupidity, as it slowly dawned on her how utterly fucked she really was. If she knew anything about witchcraft, she knew one thing — She had a Succubus.

Agatha cursed under her breath, clutching the sheets in her fists as the realization sank in. A succubus. She hadn’t summoned a lover, a pawn, or even a mortal with fleeting devotion. No, she had called forth something infinitely more dangerous. 

She sat up, trying to steady her breath, but her body betrayed her. The warmth from the dream—the succubus’s touch—still lingered on her skin, an itch that wouldn’t quite leave. Her thigh throbbed, and the marks from the Succubus’ claws began to feel all too real. Was this just the beginning? How much could she physically harm her? How much would Agatha let her? She glanced at her reflection in the mirror across the room, her eyes dark with need, frustration, and… something else. Was it fear? No, not quite. Anticipation. The thought turned her stomach.

Agatha swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. She cursed again, this time more audibly, as she paced back and forth, trying to shake the lingering sensations. Her mind raced with the implications. Succubi were notorious, not just for their insatiable appetites, but for their ability to manipulate, to control, to twist their victims until they craved them beyond reason. She knew the stories. Hell, she had lived long enough to have seen the aftermath of succubus entanglements. Witches, sorcerers, even powerful beings like herself, brought to their knees by desire.

“I’m not one of them,” Agatha muttered, a desperate edge creeping into her voice. “I’m not weak.”

But even as she said it, she could feel the echo of that laugh in her mind—smooth, sultry, dripping with amusement. It was a sound that made her chest tighten with equal parts fury and desire.

She needed to figure this out—now. Agatha stalked over to the grimoire she’d been reading earlier. It still lay open on her desk, the candles from the ritual now melted down to stubs, the faint scent of roses and burnt honey hanging in the air. Flicking through the pages with a practiced hand, she searched for answers. There had to be a way to reverse this, to banish the succubus before things spiraled further out of control.

But as her eyes scanned the old, familiar words, she found nothing. No incantation. No banishing ritual. No easy fix. Of course, there wasn’t. Summoning a succubus wasn’t the kind of mistake one could undo with a flick of the wrist. She knew that.

A low chuckle echoed from the shadows, making Agatha freeze. The temperature in the room seemed to spike, and a sultry voice purred from behind her, "Looking for something, darling?"

Agatha turned sharply, heart pounding as her gaze locked on the succubus, who stood casually in the corner, leaning against the wall as if she had always belonged there. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, the same as in Agatha’s dream, but now she was here, in the waking world, every bit as alluring—and dangerous. Agatha stared at her long, tan legs, just peaking out through the slit in her emerald green robe. It was more modest than she had imagines for a succubus, covering all the way up to her collar bones. Still, Agatha could see the lace of a black bra peaking subtly out of the top. Her skin seemed to glow a dull gold as her scent carried across the room— Honey and warm spice. She thought about the skin of her thighs, how soft it looks and how if she could reach just a little further—

"How did you—" Agatha began, cutting herself off before her mind could wander any longer, but the succubus just smirked, pushing herself off the wall and walking towards her with that same predatory grace.

"How did I get here?" her voice was teasing, almost patronizing. "You summoned me, remember? And I must say, you have impeccable taste." She stopped just inches from Agatha, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Though I think we both know this is about more than just a casual attraction spell. You wanted something… deeper."

Agatha clenched her jaw, trying not to flinch as the succubus reached out to trail a finger across the line of her jaw . The touch was electric, sending sparks of heat through her veins despite every instinct telling her to pull away. But the pull was there. Undeniable.

"I didn’t ask for you," Agatha hissed, stepping back, though it took more effort than she wanted to admit.

The succubus smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. "Oh, but you did. Your power called to me, Agatha Harkness. You were searching for control, for dominance, for someone who could bend to your will." She circled Agatha now, her gaze lingering on the claw marks she had left. "But you should know… you can’t summon a succubus without offering something in return. And lucky for you…" Her hand brushed against Agatha’s lower back, making her breath hitch. "I’m very, very good at fulfilling desires."

Agatha spun to face her, eyes blazing. "I don’t need you."

The Succubus' smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Oh, darling, we both know that’s a lie." She leaned in close, her breath warm against Agatha’s ear. "The question is… how long can you resist before you admit what you really want?"

Agatha’s breath caught, her pulse racing as she met the demons gaze. There was a challenge in her eyes, one that both enraged and enticed her. Agatha had always been the one in control, always the one with the upper hand. But this—this was different. She wasn’t just a distraction; she was a threat, a temptation that Agatha wasn’t sure she could ignore.

"Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself," the succubus purred, her voice as smooth as silk. She smiled, a sickly sweet smile that sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine, stepping closer with an effortless grace. Her dark eyes glittered with amusement, lips curling into a pout as she batted her lashes. "Well, aren’t you going to ask me my name, Agatha Harkness?"

Agatha's breath quickened. She wanted to ignore her, wanted to maintain her sense of control, but the succubus’s presence was magnetic. The air between them hummed with tension, a pull so strong it felt almost physical, drawing Agatha closer without her consent. Her instincts screamed at her to keep her distance, to push this creature away before things spiraled further out of control. But her curiosity—and the simmering desire beneath it—kept her frozen in place.

She swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I’m not in the habit of making small talk with demons," Agatha said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The succubus chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made Agatha’s stomach twist with both irritation and something else she didn’t care to name. "Oh, darling, this isn’t small talk," she said, stepping even closer, her gaze fixed on Agatha like a predator toying with its prey. "It’s tradition. You summon a demon, you give them a proper introduction. It's the polite thing to do."

Agatha raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to meet her gaze head-on. "Since when do demons care about tradition?"

The succubus smiled again, but this time there was something darker behind it, something ancient and knowing. "Since we’ve had names worth remembering."

Agatha clenched her jaw, refusing to be drawn into whatever game the succubus was playing. She had been down this road before—manipulation, seduction, promises laced with power. This demon wasn’t the first creature of darkness to try her hand at controlling Agatha, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last.

But there was something different about this time around.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and no matter how much she tried to brush off the feeling, Agatha knew this was more than just a game of power. The challenge in the succubus' eyes wasn’t just about control. It was about want. Hunger.

And Agatha, against her better judgment, felt that hunger stirring inside herself too.

The succubus watched her with an amused, expectant expression, like she knew exactly what was going through Agatha’s mind. "Go on," she coaxed, her voice dripping with honey. "You know you’re curious. I can feel it."

Agatha took a slow breath, trying to quiet the heat rising in her chest. Her body was betraying her, reacting to the succubus’s presence in a way she hadn’t felt in… she couldn’t remember how long. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her cool.

But the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What’s your name?"

The succubus’s smile widened, satisfied, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. She leaned in closer, so close that Agatha could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the scent of something sweet and intoxicating filling the air between them.

"My name is Rio Vidal," she said softly, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear as she spoke. "And now that we’ve been properly introduced… things are about to get very interesting."

Agatha’s pulse quickened at the way Rio’s name rolled off her tongue, rich and dark like wine. She hated the way it felt, hated that her body responded with a shiver that ran down her spine, hated that her mind was already racing with possibilities.

But more than anything, she hated that Rio could see it.

"Don’t get too comfortable," Agatha snapped, stepping back, trying to regain some distance, some sense of control. "This isn’t going to be your playground."

Rio didn’t seem fazed by the sudden shift in tone. She merely tilted her head, studying Agatha with that same knowing smile. "Oh, I’m not looking for a playground," she said, voice low, almost a purr. "I’m looking for something much more... satisfying."

Agatha’s stomach churned, a flush creeping up her neck. She turned her back to Rio, pacing to the other side of the room, needing space to think, to breathe. The succubus’s presence was suffocating, overwhelming. Every word, every glance was designed to provoke, to ignite something Agatha wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

"I don’t need your help," Agatha said firmly, her back still turned. "I can handle my own power."

"Really?" Rio’s voice was closer than it should’ve been, and when Agatha turned, the succubus was standing just behind her, their faces inches apart. "Because it seems to me that your power is the one thing you can’t control anymore."

Agatha glared at her, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve lived for centuries, Rio. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You want to get inside my head, make me doubt myself. But you won’t succeed."

Rio’s eyes gleamed with amusement, her lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. "Oh, Agatha," she whispered, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. "I don’t need to make you doubt yourself. You already do."

The words hit Agatha deeper than she wanted to admit. She felt the truth of them, the gnawing uncertainty that had been growing ever since Wanda stripped her of her power. The fear that she wasn’t as strong as she used to be. The creeping doubt that maybe—just maybe—Rio was right.

But she couldn’t let that show. Not now. Not ever.

"I think it’s time you left," Agatha said, her voice cold, pushing the words through clenched teeth.

Rio lingered for a moment, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, before she finally stepped back. "As you wish," she said, her tone light, though there was a shadow of something deeper in her gaze. "But don’t think for a second that this is over, darling."

With a casual wave of her hand, Rio vanished, the air in the room suddenly lighter, but the tension still thrumming beneath Agatha’s skin.

Agatha stood alone in the silence, her heart still racing, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had won this round, but she knew the succubus would be back. And the worst part?

A small, dangerous part of her wanted her to.

Awash In Crimson Wine - Agatha x Succubus!Rio

A/N Hi guys!! You asked and you shall receive! This story takes place in a universe where instead of trapping her in westview, Wanda lets Agatha go with a fraction of the power she once had. Just a silly little fic to sooth my Agathario cravings in between episodes! I’m gonna try and get new chapters out every other day or so.

Title from From Eden by Hozier

***********************************

It started with a flicker, unsuspecting and uninteresting. Agatha was rooting through some old spell books to try and find a glamour enchantment to attract sexual desire. It was a childish whim, made in her desperation to regain some semblance of control. Wanda left her weak, and with so much of her power gone, she felt her grip on those around her loosen significantly.

It was jarring, a loss too odd to articulate, when you go from bending the will of others at your whim to an indifferent force in the world around you. Agatha craved it, that feeling of utter control, more than anything else Wanda took from her. She knew she had to get it back, even if she had to start at the bottom and claw back to the top. She had to start with what she knew to be the easiest, simplest way to attract total devotion‒ through sexual desire.

The spell went, for the most part, just as she had planned. The ingredients were easy enough to find. Roses, honey, salt, red candles, and some kitchen spices you could knick from any grocery store. Simple, easy witchcraft she’s been capable of for centuries. The shift in energy would’ve been imperceptible to most, but to Agatha, the sudden, illogical flicker of each candle in unison made her hairs stand on end.

Still, she chalked it up to Wanda's ever lingering damage and went about the rest of the ritual as she always had. It wasn’t until that night that she understood the true gravity of her error.

The warmth stroked her every muscle with a tender hand, lulling her into an inky black sleep. Each pulse of her heartbeat sent liquid gold to her limbs, bringing her closer and closer to bliss. An orange light surrounded her, and a laugh like honey rang in her ears as a hand reached out to touch her. First her shoulder, trailing up to her cheek, then down to her knee. Through hazy, lidded eyes, she peered up at the golden light. A woman, dark haired and effervescent, peered back at her, smiling through red lips. Her tongue darted out to wet them, and it sent electricity all through Agatha's body. The woman's hand trailed slowly up her leg, past her robe, and grazed her upper thigh with a torturous, feather light touch. Every inch of contact was like fire, warmth blooming in her chest as she gazed at the woman. She felt magnetized to her, like any inch of space between them was an inch too much. Agatha leaned in to press her lips against hers, but before she could get any further, she felt a piercing pain in her thigh. Yelping, she pulled back to see long fingernails emerge from under her robe, dripping with blood. The woman laughed, the sound radiating as she licked her fingers.

Agatha shot awake in bed, body drenched in sweat. She ripped the covers off of her body and peeled back her robes, dreading to see what she already knew was there. Four long claw marks stared back at her, etched into her skin and trickling blood. Worse than that was the ache radiating from her core, needy and clearly present. She shoved her head back into her pillow and groaned at her stupidity, as it slowly dawned on her how utterly fucked she really was. If she knew anything about witchcraft, she knew one thing — She had a Succubus.

Agatha cursed under her breath, clutching the sheets in her fists as the realization sank in. A succubus. She hadn’t summoned a lover, a pawn, or even a mortal with fleeting devotion. No, she had called forth something infinitely more dangerous. 

She sat up, trying to steady her breath, but her body betrayed her. The warmth from the dream—the succubus’s touch—still lingered on her skin, an itch that wouldn’t quite leave. Her thigh throbbed, and the marks from the Succubus’ claws began to feel all too real. Was this just the beginning? How much could she physically harm her? How much would Agatha let her? She glanced at her reflection in the mirror across the room, her eyes dark with need, frustration, and… something else. Was it fear? No, not quite. Anticipation. The thought turned her stomach.

Agatha swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold floor. She cursed again, this time more audibly, as she paced back and forth, trying to shake the lingering sensations. Her mind raced with the implications. Succubi were notorious, not just for their insatiable appetites, but for their ability to manipulate, to control, to twist their victims until they craved them beyond reason. She knew the stories. Hell, she had lived long enough to have seen the aftermath of succubus entanglements. Witches, sorcerers, even powerful beings like herself, brought to their knees by desire.

“I’m not one of them,” Agatha muttered, a desperate edge creeping into her voice. “I’m not weak.”

But even as she said it, she could feel the echo of that laugh in her mind—smooth, sultry, dripping with amusement. It was a sound that made her chest tighten with equal parts fury and desire.

She needed to figure this out—now. Agatha stalked over to the grimoire she’d been reading earlier. It still lay open on her desk, the candles from the ritual now melted down to stubs, the faint scent of roses and burnt honey hanging in the air. Flicking through the pages with a practiced hand, she searched for answers. There had to be a way to reverse this, to banish the succubus before things spiraled further out of control.

But as her eyes scanned the old, familiar words, she found nothing. No incantation. No banishing ritual. No easy fix. Of course, there wasn’t. Summoning a succubus wasn’t the kind of mistake one could undo with a flick of the wrist. She knew that.

A low chuckle echoed from the shadows, making Agatha freeze. The temperature in the room seemed to spike, and a sultry voice purred from behind her, "Looking for something, darling?"

Agatha turned sharply, heart pounding as her gaze locked on the succubus, who stood casually in the corner, leaning against the wall as if she had always belonged there. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, the same as in Agatha’s dream, but now she was here, in the waking world, every bit as alluring—and dangerous. Agatha stared at her long, tan legs, just peaking out through the slit in her emerald green robe. It was more modest than she had imagines for a succubus, covering all the way up to her collar bones. Still, Agatha could see the lace of a black bra peaking subtly out of the top. Her skin seemed to glow a dull gold as her scent carried across the room— Honey and warm spice. She thought about the skin of her thighs, how soft it looks and how if she could reach just a little further—

"How did you—" Agatha began, cutting herself off before her mind could wander any longer, but the succubus just smirked, pushing herself off the wall and walking towards her with that same predatory grace.

"How did I get here?" her voice was teasing, almost patronizing. "You summoned me, remember? And I must say, you have impeccable taste." She stopped just inches from Agatha, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Though I think we both know this is about more than just a casual attraction spell. You wanted something… deeper."

Agatha clenched her jaw, trying not to flinch as the succubus reached out to trail a finger across the line of her jaw . The touch was electric, sending sparks of heat through her veins despite every instinct telling her to pull away. But the pull was there. Undeniable.

"I didn’t ask for you," Agatha hissed, stepping back, though it took more effort than she wanted to admit.

The succubus smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. "Oh, but you did. Your power called to me, Agatha Harkness. You were searching for control, for dominance, for someone who could bend to your will." She circled Agatha now, her gaze lingering on the claw marks she had left. "But you should know… you can’t summon a succubus without offering something in return. And lucky for you…" Her hand brushed against Agatha’s lower back, making her breath hitch. "I’m very, very good at fulfilling desires."

Agatha spun to face her, eyes blazing. "I don’t need you."

The Succubus' smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Oh, darling, we both know that’s a lie." She leaned in close, her breath warm against Agatha’s ear. "The question is… how long can you resist before you admit what you really want?"

Agatha’s breath caught, her pulse racing as she met the demons gaze. There was a challenge in her eyes, one that both enraged and enticed her. Agatha had always been the one in control, always the one with the upper hand. But this—this was different. She wasn’t just a distraction; she was a threat, a temptation that Agatha wasn’t sure she could ignore.

"Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself," the succubus purred, her voice as smooth as silk. She smiled, a sickly sweet smile that sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine, stepping closer with an effortless grace. Her dark eyes glittered with amusement, lips curling into a pout as she batted her lashes. "Well, aren’t you going to ask me my name, Agatha Harkness?"

Agatha's breath quickened. She wanted to ignore her, wanted to maintain her sense of control, but the succubus’s presence was magnetic. The air between them hummed with tension, a pull so strong it felt almost physical, drawing Agatha closer without her consent. Her instincts screamed at her to keep her distance, to push this creature away before things spiraled further out of control. But her curiosity—and the simmering desire beneath it—kept her frozen in place.

She swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I’m not in the habit of making small talk with demons," Agatha said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The succubus chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made Agatha’s stomach twist with both irritation and something else she didn’t care to name. "Oh, darling, this isn’t small talk," she said, stepping even closer, her gaze fixed on Agatha like a predator toying with its prey. "It’s tradition. You summon a demon, you give them a proper introduction. It's the polite thing to do."

Agatha raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to meet her gaze head-on. "Since when do demons care about tradition?"

The succubus smiled again, but this time there was something darker behind it, something ancient and knowing. "Since we’ve had names worth remembering."

Agatha clenched her jaw, refusing to be drawn into whatever game the succubus was playing. She had been down this road before—manipulation, seduction, promises laced with power. This demon wasn’t the first creature of darkness to try her hand at controlling Agatha, and she certainly wouldn’t be the last.

But there was something different about this time around.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and no matter how much she tried to brush off the feeling, Agatha knew this was more than just a game of power. The challenge in the succubus' eyes wasn’t just about control. It was about want. Hunger.

And Agatha, against her better judgment, felt that hunger stirring inside herself too.

The succubus watched her with an amused, expectant expression, like she knew exactly what was going through Agatha’s mind. "Go on," she coaxed, her voice dripping with honey. "You know you’re curious. I can feel it."

Agatha took a slow breath, trying to quiet the heat rising in her chest. Her body was betraying her, reacting to the succubus’s presence in a way she hadn’t felt in… she couldn’t remember how long. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her cool.

But the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What’s your name?"

The succubus’s smile widened, satisfied, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. She leaned in closer, so close that Agatha could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the scent of something sweet and intoxicating filling the air between them.

"My name is Rio Vidal," she said softly, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear as she spoke. "And now that we’ve been properly introduced… things are about to get very interesting."

Agatha’s pulse quickened at the way Rio’s name rolled off her tongue, rich and dark like wine. She hated the way it felt, hated that her body responded with a shiver that ran down her spine, hated that her mind was already racing with possibilities.

But more than anything, she hated that Rio could see it.

"Don’t get too comfortable," Agatha snapped, stepping back, trying to regain some distance, some sense of control. "This isn’t going to be your playground."

Rio didn’t seem fazed by the sudden shift in tone. She merely tilted her head, studying Agatha with that same knowing smile. "Oh, I’m not looking for a playground," she said, voice low, almost a purr. "I’m looking for something much more... satisfying."

Agatha’s stomach churned, a flush creeping up her neck. She turned her back to Rio, pacing to the other side of the room, needing space to think, to breathe. The succubus’s presence was suffocating, overwhelming. Every word, every glance was designed to provoke, to ignite something Agatha wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

"I don’t need your help," Agatha said firmly, her back still turned. "I can handle my own power."

"Really?" Rio’s voice was closer than it should’ve been, and when Agatha turned, the succubus was standing just behind her, their faces inches apart. "Because it seems to me that your power is the one thing you can’t control anymore."

Agatha glared at her, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve lived for centuries, Rio. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You want to get inside my head, make me doubt myself. But you won’t succeed."

Rio’s eyes gleamed with amusement, her lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. "Oh, Agatha," she whispered, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. "I don’t need to make you doubt yourself. You already do."

The words hit Agatha deeper than she wanted to admit. She felt the truth of them, the gnawing uncertainty that had been growing ever since Wanda stripped her of her power. The fear that she wasn’t as strong as she used to be. The creeping doubt that maybe—just maybe—Rio was right.

But she couldn’t let that show. Not now. Not ever.

"I think it’s time you left," Agatha said, her voice cold, pushing the words through clenched teeth.

Rio lingered for a moment, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, before she finally stepped back. "As you wish," she said, her tone light, though there was a shadow of something deeper in her gaze. "But don’t think for a second that this is over, darling."

With a casual wave of her hand, Rio vanished, the air in the room suddenly lighter, but the tension still thrumming beneath Agatha’s skin.

Agatha stood alone in the silence, her heart still racing, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She had won this round, but she knew the succubus would be back. And the worst part?

A small, dangerous part of her wanted her to.

Awash In Crimson Wine Chapter 2 - Agatha x Succubus!Rio

A/N HIII I wrote chapter 2 bcs I was bored and bcs I can!! Hope you enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!! I'm still getting everything together for this fic so i'm sry if any if this is incoherent, i'm just writing it for shiggles.

Chapter 2

The morning sun crept through the heavy curtains of Agatha’s room, casting the space in a dull amber light. She lay still in her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, as the events of the previous night replayed in her mind. She could still feel the phantom touch of Rio’s hand on her skin, the mocking smile that refused to leave her thoughts. Despite herself, Agatha shuddered. It wasn’t just the heat of the encounter that unnerved her—it was how real it had felt.

Agatha Harknesshad lived for centuries, and with that the list of things that could catch her off guard slowly dwindled. But this? This was unlike anything she had ever summoned, or encountered. Succubi were dangerous enough in theory. In practice, they were disastrous.

She threw the covers off with a frustrated grunt and sat up, rubbing her temples. The dull ache in her thigh reminded her of the claw marks still etched into her skin, vivid proof that she wasn’t dreaming. With a quick glance, she confirmed they hadn’t healed. They were still as fresh as the moment Rio had raked her nails down Agatha’s leg.

"Of course," Agatha muttered under her breath. Her healing abilities had been significantly diminished since Wanda stripped her of most of her power, and it seemed the succubus had no intention of letting her forget it.

She stood, shrugging off her robe, and headed toward the small mirror by her dresser. Her reflection stared back at her, disheveled and haunted by sleeplessness. She could see it in her eyes—the nagging feeling that this was just the beginning of a far bigger mess than she had anticipated. She cursed under her breath and began gathering the tools she’d need to attempt a binding spell.

Rio Vidal wasn’t going to simply walk away. Agatha knew that much. Succubi weren’t known for their patience, and once summoned, they had a tendency to dig their claws in—literally and figuratively. But there were ways to contain them, to limit their influence. Agatha had just enough magic left to do that. At least, she hoped.

She lit a few candles on her desk and arranged a circle of protection, drawing sigils on the floor with white chalk. The room filled with the scent of sage and rosemary as she muttered ancient incantations, the words flowing from her lips like second nature. The ritual was complex, designed to keep Rio at a distance, to ensure she couldn’t invade Agatha’s dreams—or her waking life—without permission.

As she completed the final verse, the room grew still, the air thick with magic. Agatha exhaled, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. The binding was set.

“Not bad for a witch running on fumes,” she muttered, straightening up.

Before she could revel in her small victory, the candles flickered. Agatha froze. The room temperature rose  suddenly, and a voice—velvety, mocking—drifted from the shadows.

"Are you really trying to lock me out, darling?"

Agatha spun on her heel, eyes narrowing as Rio materialized from the dim light, her form graceful and unhurried, as though she had always been there, waiting. Her long, dark hair shimmered like molten ink, framing a face that radiated mischief. She wore a loose-fitting silk robe that clung to her curves in all the right places, exuding an effortless seduction that made Agatha’s pulse quicken against her will.

"I’m impressed," Rio continued, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of Agatha’s desk. "Even with your powers diminished, you’ve still got some fight left in you." She flashed a wicked grin. "But we both know this won’t hold me for long."

Agatha clenched her jaw, ignoring the wave of heat that stirred in her belly at Rio’s proximity. "You have no idea who you’re dealing with."

Rio raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And what exactly are you going to do?" Her voice dripped with amusement as she leaned in close, her breath hot against Agatha’s ear. "You can’t resist me. You’ve already tasted what I can offer, haven’t you?"

Agatha shoved away, trying to put as much distance between the two them as possible. She hated how Rio’s presence seemed to unravel her control, inch by inch, with every teasing word. Her magic flared, a pulse of anger that briefly lit the room in a soft glow. But Rio only smiled wider, as if she was enjoying the show.

"Your little spell might keep me at bay for now," Rio purred, stepping back and surveying the chalk markings on the floor. "But you and I both know I’ll find a way around it. I always do."

Agatha’s fingers twitched, the urge to lash out with magic rising within her. But she knew better. She had to keep her composure. Succubi thrived on chaos, on raw emotion. If she let Rio feed on her frustration, her lust, her need for control—it would only strengthen her.

Instead, Agatha forced herself to breathe, to center herself. She folded her arms, narrowing her gaze at Rio.

"What do you want, Vidal?" she asked, voice low and dangerous. "You’ve had your fun. You’ve toyed with me. Now state your terms, or get the hell out."

Rio’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it seemed to grow even more playful, as if she was pleased with Agatha’s directness.

"You summoned me, darling," she said, casually running her fingers through her hair as she paced about the room. "You called to me with that little ritual of yours, and now, I’m here. To serve you, to fulfill your deepest desires."

Agatha snorted, her eyes rolling. "I didn’t summon you to be my lapdog."

"Oh, I know," Rio said with a wink. "But that doesn’t change the fact that you need me."

Agatha took a step forward, her patience wearing thin. "I don’t need you. I can fix this on my own."

Rio tilted her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Oh, sweet Agatha. You’re powerful, yes, but even you can’t reclaim your magic alone. Not without help."

Agatha paused, her gaze flickering with doubt for just a moment. Rio saw it—sensed it—and moved in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I can make you strong again," Rio murmured. "Stronger than before. With me, you could take back everything Wanda took from you. And more."

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her chest. It was a tempting offer, no doubt. To have her power back—all of it. To feel the weight of the magic coursing through her veins again, to command the world with a flick of her wrist. To never feel weak again.

But there was a cost. There always was.

"You think I don’t know your game?" Agatha’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of desire. "You’re a parasite. You feed on power, on control. You want me desperate, dependent. And I won’t give you that satisfaction."

Rio’s expression shifted, her playful demeanor slipping just slightly. "I don’t need you desperate," she said, her voice softening, almost sincere. "I just need you to want it."

Agatha’s eyes hardened, the moment of temptation passing. She shook her head, stepping back and glaring at the succubus.

"Leave," she commanded, her voice cold. "I’ll deal with you on my own terms. Not yours."

Rio studied her for a moment, her gaze lingering on Agatha’s face, searching for something. Finally, she sighed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"As you wish, darling," she said, turning away with a graceful flick of her hair. "But you know where to find me when you change your mind."

And with that, Rio vanished, leaving the room colder and quieter than before.

Agatha stood in the silence, her mind racing. She had won this round—but she knew it wouldn’t be the last. The succubus was patient, and Agatha could feel the weight of her own desire gnawing at the edges of her control.

She would have to be careful, this was only the beginning.

Agatha stood still, the echo of Rio's final words lingering in the air like the scent of smoldering incense. Her room felt unnervingly empty now, and yet, the weight of the succubus's presence remained, pressing against her like a too-heavy cloak. She exhaled sharply, her pulse still racing. Rio’s offer hung in her mind, teasing, prodding at her insecurities, whispering promises of power she desperately craved.

She clenched her fists, the dull pain from the claw marks still burning on her thigh. Agatha Harkness, for centuries in control of herself and her power, felt more vulnerable now than she had in decades.

How had it come to this?

The words of Rio Vidal, smooth and seductive, replayed in her mind. "With me, you could take back everything Wanda took from you. And more."

The offer was clear: strength, magic—everything she had lost. Everything Wanda had stripped from her when she’d been left a hollowed-out version of herself. She had tried to suppress that yearning, that desperate need for power, but it was there. It had always been there, gnawing at her since the moment Westview had crumbled and she was left powerless, stranded in a reality where her once-great magic was little more than a flicker.

And now, Rio knew. The succubus could sense it as easily as a predator sniffing out blood. Agatha hated that, hated being read so easily. She felt exposed to the demon in every sense of the word. But she hated something else even more: the truth behind Rio’s words. Without Wanda’s interference, Agatha would never have been in this position. She had been on the verge of something great before it had all come crashing down.

The bitterness welled up inside her, pushing the ache in her thigh further from her mind. She didn’t need Rio. Not like this.

But she couldn't deny that the temptation lingered.

Shaking her head, Agatha paced the room, trying to clear the fog the succubus had left in her wake. Every step sent a reminder of the throbbing wounds still etched into her skin. That succubus had marked her—claimed her, almost. And Agatha wasn’t sure if it was out of possessiveness, amusement, or something deeper. Perhaps Rio saw something vulnerable in Agatha that she had buried even from herself.

Her vision blurred slightly as her focus drifted, thoughts swirling in her mind like a storm. She had survived too much, endured too many battles, to let a creature like Rio Vidal pull her down into a pit she couldn’t crawl out of. The succubus’s words were enticing, yes, but she knew the truth behind those seductive promises: it was a trap. Power always came at a cost, and Agatha had spent centuries paying that price.

She turned from the mirror, her steps resolute as she crossed back toward the circle of protection she had crafted on the floor. The sigils still glowed faintly, a reminder that her magic, while diminished, wasn’t entirely gone. She wasn’t powerless. Not yet.

With a deep breath, Agatha knelt and began to reinforce the spell, tracing over the chalk marks with careful precision. Her mind wandered as she worked, thinking back to Rio’s smile, the way the demon had so easily taunted her, pushed her to the brink of wanting. She would need to be stronger if she was going to resist Rio’s influence. Stronger and smarter. 

Finishing the last mark on the floor, Agatha stood and surveyed her work. The protection spell would hold—at least for now. But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep Rio at bay forever. Succubi had a way of finding cracks in the strongest defenses, slipping through the smallest weaknesses.Her fingers twitched with the urge to summon more power, to strengthen her defenses further, but she knew that pushing her magic too hard would leave her more vulnerable. She needed to conserve what little she had left.

A small part of Agatha feared that if Rio returned, she wouldn’t be able to resist. You’re a parasite, Agatha had told her, her voice sharp, filled with certainty. You feed on power, on control. But the truth was, Agatha wasn’t so different. She had always craved power. And now with so little of it left, she was more vulnerable than ever to someone like Rio, someone like herself.

Agatha closed her eyes and exhaled, her mind steadying. She had faced worse than Rio Vidal in her long life. This was just another challenge, another obstacle. And she would handle it—on her own terms. But even as she stood there, preparing for whatever came next, she couldn’t shake the feeling of Rio’s eyes on her, watching her every move and waiting to strike at her weakest.

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Her dream that night began like so many others, softly at first, with whispers of familiarity. Agatha found herself in an endless field of lavender, the wind brushing through the flowers in waves, carrying a sweet, intoxicating scent. It was peaceful—a momentary reprieve from the chaos of her waking life. But beneath the tranquility, there was an energy, a heat that simmered just out of sight, growing stronger with each breath she took.

Agatha moved through the lavender, her fingers grazing the tops of the flowers, but the farther she walked, the more the scene began to change. The air thickened, the sky dimmed, and a warmth spread through her body, not unpleasant but alarming in its intensity. She tried to shake off the feeling, to focus on the beauty of the field, but her mind betrayed her, drawing her toward the warmth instead of away from it.

The landscape blurred, the lavender wilting into darkness. Agatha felt her pulse quicken, her senses sharpen. And then, she saw her.

Rio Vidal emerged from the shadows like a flame licking the edges of Agatha’s subconscious. Her silhouette was illuminated by a low, flickering light, the curves of her body highlighted by the silken fabric that clung to her skin. The succubus’ eyes gleamed with mischief as she approached.

Agatha tried to pull back, tried to force herself awake, but her body refused to obey. The warmth that had been creeping over her flared into something more potent, more primal, as she felt Rio’s familiar tug.

“Dreaming of me, already?” Rio’s voice was a soft purr, rich with amusement. She circled Agatha slowly, her fingertips barely grazing the witch’s skin, sending sparks of sensation across her body.

Agatha shuddered as Rio’s touch moved lower, teasing at the edges of her awareness, blurring the lines between dream and reality. She felt herself leaning into the touch despite her resistance, her mind clouded with desire that she couldn’t control. Agatha’s throat went dry, and for a moment, she was trapped in Rio’s gaze, lost in her magnetic pull. The air around them thickened, charged with unspoken desire and the promise of something far more dangerous. Agatha opened her mouth to speak, to demand that Rio leave her dreams, but the words never came. Instead, Rio leaned in, her lips brushing Agatha’s just lightly enough to leave her wanting more. Agatha’s control slipped, her hands moving toward Rio’s waist as though they had a will of their own.

Before she could touch her, before she could give in completely, Agatha felt a sharp pain in her thigh—the same place where Rio had marked her the night before. The jolt snapped her back to herself, just as the dream began to unravel.

The lavender field vanished, the warmth faded, and Agatha awoke in a cold sweat, her heart hammering in her chest.

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Agatha sat up, wiping the moisture from her forehead. The marks on her thigh were still there, vivid against her skin. More pressing, though, was the ache between her legs as she remembered the feeling of Rio’s lips against hers. She gritted her teeth, frustrated at how easily Rio could infiltrate her dreams, how helpless she felt against the succubus’s influence. With a groan she rolled out of bed and stood, forcing herself into her morning routine.

The rest of the day passed with a sort of strained calm. She spent hours poring over her ancient tomes, searching for anything that could help her regain her power—or at least keep Rio at bay. The candlelight flickered beside her as she turned the pages, her fingers trailing over spells she hadn’t used in centuries, some so old they had been forgotten by most witches. Nothing seemed useful, binding spells, protective charms, sigils for control—she’d tried them all. Agatha leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as a dull headache set in. Wanda had stripped her of so much, and without the Darkhold, she was grasping at the few remnants of magic she had left.

She needed more power. Real power. And Rio’s offer still lingered in her mind, tempting her with every passing minute.

“No,” Agatha muttered to herself, shaking her head as though to clear it. She couldn’t trust Rio. Whatever she was offering, there would be a price—one that Agatha wasn’t willing to pay.

She closed the book in front of her with a sigh and stood, stretching her stiff muscles. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the room in deep shadows. For the first time that day, Agatha allowed herself to relax, believing she had some respite from Rio’s influence. The succubus hadn’t shown up all day, and the wards around her home seemed to be holding. Maybe she had won a small victory, if only for now.

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, the temperature in the room rose. Agatha stiffened, her senses immediately on high alert. She turned, and there, in the corner of the room, Rio materialized from the darkness.

“You didn’t really think I’d stay away, did you?” Rio’s voice was as smooth as silk, her figure emerging with that same effortless grace. She smiled as she stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Agatha’s heart sank. Of course, it had been too easy.

“What do you want now?” Agatha growled, trying to mask the rush of heat that Rio’s presence always seemed to bring.

Rio chuckled softly, her fingers brushing over one of the books Agatha had left open. “Still searching for a way to regain your power, I see.” She glanced up, her smile widening. “You won’t find it in there, darling.”

Agatha crossed her arms, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from where Rio’s robe dipped at her chest and meet her gaze.  “And I suppose you know where I can find it?”

Rio took a step closer, her expression shifting from playful to serious. “I do, actually. But you won’t like the answer.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

Rio’s eyes flickered with something darker, more intense. She leaned in, and whispered almost mockingly in a sing-song voice. “I can help you get your power back, Agatha. All of it. More than you’ve ever had before.”

Agatha’s pulse quickened, the temptation curling around her like a vice. She wanted it—God, she wanted it—but she couldn’t ignore the warning bells ringing in her mind.

“There’s a catch,” she said flatly, her tone guarded.

Rio’s smile returned, though it was softer this time, almost sympathetic. “Of course there is. But it’s nothing you can’t handle.” She reached out, brushing her long nails along Agatha’s arm in a gesture that sent a shiver down the witch’s spine. “All I need is your trust.”

Agatha stepped back, narrowing her eyes. “And why the hell should I trust you?”

Rio’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something dangerous. “I’m offering you exactly what you want, Agatha. Power. Control.”

“And what do you get out of it?” Agatha demanded, her voice rising in suspicion.

Rio’s smile widened, her gaze locking onto Agatha’s. “I get you.”

Agatha's breath caught in her chest, fear rising in the pit of her stomach. She recognized the look in Rio’s eyes, the hunger for someone who knows you have complete control over their desires. She had seen the look in Rio’s eyes reflected in her own many times before.

Rio stepped closer, her voice low and seductive. “Think about it, Agatha. You don’t have to make a decision right now. But the clock is ticking, and every day you wait, you lose more of yourself.”

Agatha stared at Rio, her mind torn between the danger of the offer and the overwhelming desire to be whole again. The silence stretched between them, thick with tension.

Rio leaned in ever so slightly, bringing her lips yet again to Agatha's ear. “I’ll be waiting,” she whispered, and planted a feather-light kiss on her cheek before disappearing into the shadows once more.

Agatha’s skin burned ever so slightly where Rio had kissed her, and as she raised her hand to her cheek she let out a soft groan. Pain was unfamiliar to her still, and the way it danced on her skin paired with the need for Rio’s touch sent electricity straight to her core. Agatha knew this torture was only the beginning, but already she could feel the frustration from Rio’s teasing touch being to take a toll on her body. The worst part was that she knew she couldn’t act on it. Leaning into the sexual desire brought on by the succubus only feeds its power, even if you aren’t reliving that desire through direct contact with the demon. She lets out a long, slow breath and decides what would be best now is to take a very long, very hot shower.

Awash In Crimson Wine Chapter 2 - Agatha x Succubus!Rio

A/N HIII I wrote chapter 2 bcs I was bored and bcs I can!! Hope you enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!! I'm still getting everything together for this fic so i'm sry if any if this is incoherent, i'm just writing it for shiggles.

Chapter 2

The morning sun crept through the heavy curtains of Agatha’s room, casting the space in a dull amber light. She lay still in her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, as the events of the previous night replayed in her mind. She could still feel the phantom touch of Rio’s hand on her skin, the mocking smile that refused to leave her thoughts. Despite herself, Agatha shuddered. It wasn’t just the heat of the encounter that unnerved her—it was how real it had felt.

Agatha Harknesshad lived for centuries, and with that the list of things that could catch her off guard slowly dwindled. But this? This was unlike anything she had ever summoned, or encountered. Succubi were dangerous enough in theory. In practice, they were disastrous.

She threw the covers off with a frustrated grunt and sat up, rubbing her temples. The dull ache in her thigh reminded her of the claw marks still etched into her skin, vivid proof that she wasn’t dreaming. With a quick glance, she confirmed they hadn’t healed. They were still as fresh as the moment Rio had raked her nails down Agatha’s leg.

"Of course," Agatha muttered under her breath. Her healing abilities had been significantly diminished since Wanda stripped her of most of her power, and it seemed the succubus had no intention of letting her forget it.

She stood, shrugging off her robe, and headed toward the small mirror by her dresser. Her reflection stared back at her, disheveled and haunted by sleeplessness. She could see it in her eyes—the nagging feeling that this was just the beginning of a far bigger mess than she had anticipated. She cursed under her breath and began gathering the tools she’d need to attempt a binding spell.

Rio Vidal wasn’t going to simply walk away. Agatha knew that much. Succubi weren’t known for their patience, and once summoned, they had a tendency to dig their claws in—literally and figuratively. But there were ways to contain them, to limit their influence. Agatha had just enough magic left to do that. At least, she hoped.

She lit a few candles on her desk and arranged a circle of protection, drawing sigils on the floor with white chalk. The room filled with the scent of sage and rosemary as she muttered ancient incantations, the words flowing from her lips like second nature. The ritual was complex, designed to keep Rio at a distance, to ensure she couldn’t invade Agatha’s dreams—or her waking life—without permission.

As she completed the final verse, the room grew still, the air thick with magic. Agatha exhaled, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. The binding was set.

“Not bad for a witch running on fumes,” she muttered, straightening up.

Before she could revel in her small victory, the candles flickered. Agatha froze. The room temperature rose  suddenly, and a voice—velvety, mocking—drifted from the shadows.

"Are you really trying to lock me out, darling?"

Agatha spun on her heel, eyes narrowing as Rio materialized from the dim light, her form graceful and unhurried, as though she had always been there, waiting. Her long, dark hair shimmered like molten ink, framing a face that radiated mischief. She wore a loose-fitting silk robe that clung to her curves in all the right places, exuding an effortless seduction that made Agatha’s pulse quicken against her will.

"I’m impressed," Rio continued, stepping closer, her fingers trailing along the edge of Agatha’s desk. "Even with your powers diminished, you’ve still got some fight left in you." She flashed a wicked grin. "But we both know this won’t hold me for long."

Agatha clenched her jaw, ignoring the wave of heat that stirred in her belly at Rio’s proximity. "You have no idea who you’re dealing with."

Rio raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And what exactly are you going to do?" Her voice dripped with amusement as she leaned in close, her breath hot against Agatha’s ear. "You can’t resist me. You’ve already tasted what I can offer, haven’t you?"

Agatha shoved away, trying to put as much distance between the two them as possible. She hated how Rio’s presence seemed to unravel her control, inch by inch, with every teasing word. Her magic flared, a pulse of anger that briefly lit the room in a soft glow. But Rio only smiled wider, as if she was enjoying the show.

"Your little spell might keep me at bay for now," Rio purred, stepping back and surveying the chalk markings on the floor. "But you and I both know I’ll find a way around it. I always do."

Agatha’s fingers twitched, the urge to lash out with magic rising within her. But she knew better. She had to keep her composure. Succubi thrived on chaos, on raw emotion. If she let Rio feed on her frustration, her lust, her need for control—it would only strengthen her.

Instead, Agatha forced herself to breathe, to center herself. She folded her arms, narrowing her gaze at Rio.

"What do you want, Vidal?" she asked, voice low and dangerous. "You’ve had your fun. You’ve toyed with me. Now state your terms, or get the hell out."

Rio’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it seemed to grow even more playful, as if she was pleased with Agatha’s directness.

"You summoned me, darling," she said, casually running her fingers through her hair as she paced about the room. "You called to me with that little ritual of yours, and now, I’m here. To serve you, to fulfill your deepest desires."

Agatha snorted, her eyes rolling. "I didn’t summon you to be my lapdog."

"Oh, I know," Rio said with a wink. "But that doesn’t change the fact that you need me."

Agatha took a step forward, her patience wearing thin. "I don’t need you. I can fix this on my own."

Rio tilted her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "Oh, sweet Agatha. You’re powerful, yes, but even you can’t reclaim your magic alone. Not without help."

Agatha paused, her gaze flickering with doubt for just a moment. Rio saw it—sensed it—and moved in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I can make you strong again," Rio murmured. "Stronger than before. With me, you could take back everything Wanda took from you. And more."

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her chest. It was a tempting offer, no doubt. To have her power back—all of it. To feel the weight of the magic coursing through her veins again, to command the world with a flick of her wrist. To never feel weak again.

But there was a cost. There always was.

"You think I don’t know your game?" Agatha’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of desire. "You’re a parasite. You feed on power, on control. You want me desperate, dependent. And I won’t give you that satisfaction."

Rio’s expression shifted, her playful demeanor slipping just slightly. "I don’t need you desperate," she said, her voice softening, almost sincere. "I just need you to want it."

Agatha’s eyes hardened, the moment of temptation passing. She shook her head, stepping back and glaring at the succubus.

"Leave," she commanded, her voice cold. "I’ll deal with you on my own terms. Not yours."

Rio studied her for a moment, her gaze lingering on Agatha’s face, searching for something. Finally, she sighed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"As you wish, darling," she said, turning away with a graceful flick of her hair. "But you know where to find me when you change your mind."

And with that, Rio vanished, leaving the room colder and quieter than before.

Agatha stood in the silence, her mind racing. She had won this round—but she knew it wouldn’t be the last. The succubus was patient, and Agatha could feel the weight of her own desire gnawing at the edges of her control.

She would have to be careful, this was only the beginning.

Agatha stood still, the echo of Rio's final words lingering in the air like the scent of smoldering incense. Her room felt unnervingly empty now, and yet, the weight of the succubus's presence remained, pressing against her like a too-heavy cloak. She exhaled sharply, her pulse still racing. Rio’s offer hung in her mind, teasing, prodding at her insecurities, whispering promises of power she desperately craved.

She clenched her fists, the dull pain from the claw marks still burning on her thigh. Agatha Harkness, for centuries in control of herself and her power, felt more vulnerable now than she had in decades.

How had it come to this?

The words of Rio Vidal, smooth and seductive, replayed in her mind. "With me, you could take back everything Wanda took from you. And more."

The offer was clear: strength, magic—everything she had lost. Everything Wanda had stripped from her when she’d been left a hollowed-out version of herself. She had tried to suppress that yearning, that desperate need for power, but it was there. It had always been there, gnawing at her since the moment Westview had crumbled and she was left powerless, stranded in a reality where her once-great magic was little more than a flicker.

And now, Rio knew. The succubus could sense it as easily as a predator sniffing out blood. Agatha hated that, hated being read so easily. She felt exposed to the demon in every sense of the word. But she hated something else even more: the truth behind Rio’s words. Without Wanda’s interference, Agatha would never have been in this position. She had been on the verge of something great before it had all come crashing down.

The bitterness welled up inside her, pushing the ache in her thigh further from her mind. She didn’t need Rio. Not like this.

But she couldn't deny that the temptation lingered.

Shaking her head, Agatha paced the room, trying to clear the fog the succubus had left in her wake. Every step sent a reminder of the throbbing wounds still etched into her skin. That succubus had marked her—claimed her, almost. And Agatha wasn’t sure if it was out of possessiveness, amusement, or something deeper. Perhaps Rio saw something vulnerable in Agatha that she had buried even from herself.

Her vision blurred slightly as her focus drifted, thoughts swirling in her mind like a storm. She had survived too much, endured too many battles, to let a creature like Rio Vidal pull her down into a pit she couldn’t crawl out of. The succubus’s words were enticing, yes, but she knew the truth behind those seductive promises: it was a trap. Power always came at a cost, and Agatha had spent centuries paying that price.

She turned from the mirror, her steps resolute as she crossed back toward the circle of protection she had crafted on the floor. The sigils still glowed faintly, a reminder that her magic, while diminished, wasn’t entirely gone. She wasn’t powerless. Not yet.

With a deep breath, Agatha knelt and began to reinforce the spell, tracing over the chalk marks with careful precision. Her mind wandered as she worked, thinking back to Rio’s smile, the way the demon had so easily taunted her, pushed her to the brink of wanting. She would need to be stronger if she was going to resist Rio’s influence. Stronger and smarter. 

Finishing the last mark on the floor, Agatha stood and surveyed her work. The protection spell would hold—at least for now. But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep Rio at bay forever. Succubi had a way of finding cracks in the strongest defenses, slipping through the smallest weaknesses.Her fingers twitched with the urge to summon more power, to strengthen her defenses further, but she knew that pushing her magic too hard would leave her more vulnerable. She needed to conserve what little she had left.

A small part of Agatha feared that if Rio returned, she wouldn’t be able to resist. You’re a parasite, Agatha had told her, her voice sharp, filled with certainty. You feed on power, on control. But the truth was, Agatha wasn’t so different. She had always craved power. And now with so little of it left, she was more vulnerable than ever to someone like Rio, someone like herself.

Agatha closed her eyes and exhaled, her mind steadying. She had faced worse than Rio Vidal in her long life. This was just another challenge, another obstacle. And she would handle it—on her own terms. But even as she stood there, preparing for whatever came next, she couldn’t shake the feeling of Rio’s eyes on her, watching her every move and waiting to strike at her weakest.

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Her dream that night began like so many others, softly at first, with whispers of familiarity. Agatha found herself in an endless field of lavender, the wind brushing through the flowers in waves, carrying a sweet, intoxicating scent. It was peaceful—a momentary reprieve from the chaos of her waking life. But beneath the tranquility, there was an energy, a heat that simmered just out of sight, growing stronger with each breath she took.

Agatha moved through the lavender, her fingers grazing the tops of the flowers, but the farther she walked, the more the scene began to change. The air thickened, the sky dimmed, and a warmth spread through her body, not unpleasant but alarming in its intensity. She tried to shake off the feeling, to focus on the beauty of the field, but her mind betrayed her, drawing her toward the warmth instead of away from it.

The landscape blurred, the lavender wilting into darkness. Agatha felt her pulse quicken, her senses sharpen. And then, she saw her.

Rio Vidal emerged from the shadows like a flame licking the edges of Agatha’s subconscious. Her silhouette was illuminated by a low, flickering light, the curves of her body highlighted by the silken fabric that clung to her skin. The succubus’ eyes gleamed with mischief as she approached.

Agatha tried to pull back, tried to force herself awake, but her body refused to obey. The warmth that had been creeping over her flared into something more potent, more primal, as she felt Rio’s familiar tug.

“Dreaming of me, already?” Rio’s voice was a soft purr, rich with amusement. She circled Agatha slowly, her fingertips barely grazing the witch’s skin, sending sparks of sensation across her body.

Agatha shuddered as Rio’s touch moved lower, teasing at the edges of her awareness, blurring the lines between dream and reality. She felt herself leaning into the touch despite her resistance, her mind clouded with desire that she couldn’t control. Agatha’s throat went dry, and for a moment, she was trapped in Rio’s gaze, lost in her magnetic pull. The air around them thickened, charged with unspoken desire and the promise of something far more dangerous. Agatha opened her mouth to speak, to demand that Rio leave her dreams, but the words never came. Instead, Rio leaned in, her lips brushing Agatha’s just lightly enough to leave her wanting more. Agatha’s control slipped, her hands moving toward Rio’s waist as though they had a will of their own.

Before she could touch her, before she could give in completely, Agatha felt a sharp pain in her thigh—the same place where Rio had marked her the night before. The jolt snapped her back to herself, just as the dream began to unravel.

The lavender field vanished, the warmth faded, and Agatha awoke in a cold sweat, her heart hammering in her chest.

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Agatha sat up, wiping the moisture from her forehead. The marks on her thigh were still there, vivid against her skin. More pressing, though, was the ache between her legs as she remembered the feeling of Rio’s lips against hers. She gritted her teeth, frustrated at how easily Rio could infiltrate her dreams, how helpless she felt against the succubus’s influence. With a groan she rolled out of bed and stood, forcing herself into her morning routine.

The rest of the day passed with a sort of strained calm. She spent hours poring over her ancient tomes, searching for anything that could help her regain her power—or at least keep Rio at bay. The candlelight flickered beside her as she turned the pages, her fingers trailing over spells she hadn’t used in centuries, some so old they had been forgotten by most witches. Nothing seemed useful, binding spells, protective charms, sigils for control—she’d tried them all. Agatha leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as a dull headache set in. Wanda had stripped her of so much, and without the Darkhold, she was grasping at the few remnants of magic she had left.

She needed more power. Real power. And Rio’s offer still lingered in her mind, tempting her with every passing minute.

“No,” Agatha muttered to herself, shaking her head as though to clear it. She couldn’t trust Rio. Whatever she was offering, there would be a price—one that Agatha wasn’t willing to pay.

She closed the book in front of her with a sigh and stood, stretching her stiff muscles. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the room in deep shadows. For the first time that day, Agatha allowed herself to relax, believing she had some respite from Rio’s influence. The succubus hadn’t shown up all day, and the wards around her home seemed to be holding. Maybe she had won a small victory, if only for now.

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, the temperature in the room rose. Agatha stiffened, her senses immediately on high alert. She turned, and there, in the corner of the room, Rio materialized from the darkness.

“You didn’t really think I’d stay away, did you?” Rio’s voice was as smooth as silk, her figure emerging with that same effortless grace. She smiled as she stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Agatha’s heart sank. Of course, it had been too easy.

“What do you want now?” Agatha growled, trying to mask the rush of heat that Rio’s presence always seemed to bring.

Rio chuckled softly, her fingers brushing over one of the books Agatha had left open. “Still searching for a way to regain your power, I see.” She glanced up, her smile widening. “You won’t find it in there, darling.”

Agatha crossed her arms, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from where Rio’s robe dipped at her chest and meet her gaze.  “And I suppose you know where I can find it?”

Rio took a step closer, her expression shifting from playful to serious. “I do, actually. But you won’t like the answer.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

Rio’s eyes flickered with something darker, more intense. She leaned in, and whispered almost mockingly in a sing-song voice. “I can help you get your power back, Agatha. All of it. More than you’ve ever had before.”

Agatha’s pulse quickened, the temptation curling around her like a vice. She wanted it—God, she wanted it—but she couldn’t ignore the warning bells ringing in her mind.

“There’s a catch,” she said flatly, her tone guarded.

Rio’s smile returned, though it was softer this time, almost sympathetic. “Of course there is. But it’s nothing you can’t handle.” She reached out, brushing her long nails along Agatha’s arm in a gesture that sent a shiver down the witch’s spine. “All I need is your trust.”

Agatha stepped back, narrowing her eyes. “And why the hell should I trust you?”

Rio’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something dangerous. “I’m offering you exactly what you want, Agatha. Power. Control.”

“And what do you get out of it?” Agatha demanded, her voice rising in suspicion.

Rio’s smile widened, her gaze locking onto Agatha’s. “I get you.”

Agatha's breath caught in her chest, fear rising in the pit of her stomach. She recognized the look in Rio’s eyes, the hunger for someone who knows you have complete control over their desires. She had seen the look in Rio’s eyes reflected in her own many times before.

Rio stepped closer, her voice low and seductive. “Think about it, Agatha. You don’t have to make a decision right now. But the clock is ticking, and every day you wait, you lose more of yourself.”

Agatha stared at Rio, her mind torn between the danger of the offer and the overwhelming desire to be whole again. The silence stretched between them, thick with tension.

Rio leaned in ever so slightly, bringing her lips yet again to Agatha's ear. “I’ll be waiting,” she whispered, and planted a feather-light kiss on her cheek before disappearing into the shadows once more.

Agatha’s skin burned ever so slightly where Rio had kissed her, and as she raised her hand to her cheek she let out a soft groan. Pain was unfamiliar to her still, and the way it danced on her skin paired with the need for Rio’s touch sent electricity straight to her core. Agatha knew this torture was only the beginning, but already she could feel the frustration from Rio’s teasing touch being to take a toll on her body. The worst part was that she knew she couldn’t act on it. Leaning into the sexual desire brought on by the succubus only feeds its power, even if you aren’t reliving that desire through direct contact with the demon. She lets out a long, slow breath and decides what would be best now is to take a very long, very hot shower.

I SWEAR TO GOD IF 'TEEN' ISN'T BILLY I'M GONNA KMS