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avxlyse · 3 months ago

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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

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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.

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