#top agatha

[riovidyke]

click here for some agathario smut that i wrote. merry christmas 😋

[blushingteddy]

Precious Things: Chapter 1

Plot: Rio visits Westview after The Hex comes down and finds Agnes O'Conner in Agatha's stead. She must team up with an unlikely ally to help get her wife back and confront the past to make sense of the future ahead. (Agathario x Rio/Mrs Hart unlikely friendship)

---

The beep of machines is a reliable monotone to measure the accrual of time to it’s exact and precise end. There was a knack, in her experience. A correct moment that was neither a heartbeat early nor a single beat overdue. The strangely comforting taste of artificial banana pudding felt as good a place as any to ground her overworked thought processes. Rio blew out her cheeks and straightened her criss-crossed ankles, elbows dug into the arm rests, prodding the plastic spoon around with marked disinterest.

She was putting off the inevitable.

Largely, because Agatha had been putting off the inevitable - for such a long, long time. The Scarlet Witch had taken the Darkhold. Agatha finally vulnerable. The dark magic that had shrouded her all of these centuries had lifted like a veil. Rio could feel that Agatha hadn’t run or attempted to evade the inevitable this time.

Perhaps she was finally ready.

“I imagined you differently.”

Rio stopped moving the plastic spoon. 

The ghost of a smile tugged up her lips, because they always imagined her differently, whether she came in one form or another—friend or foe—all of it was subjective, always it was some other version of her they had imagined and built up in their head. Ink black linen shrouds and milk white bones. Deep green aspen leaves ornately woven into clothes with spun spider silk stitching, rust coloured gold, dried sea moss for beading. Rio laughed quietly, amused on private levels, she was never dressed correctly for the occasion. 

Her lips tapered down into a serious expression. “Do you want to finish this?” Rio glanced at the frail elderly man drowning in his blankets and wires. “You always think you know how banana pudding tastes until you’re eating it, and then you realise it doesn’t taste like bananas at all. It tastes like something else. Something pretending to be a banana. Strange, right?” She angled the dessert toward him.

“Will there be banana pudding where I’m going, or…” His voice was a strained murmur - the whites of his eyes a dull cloudy colour. He gestured his finger downward.

Hell.

Rio’s expression gave nothing away.

She said nothing in response and idly scraped the spoon around.

“Not the time or place for that conversation, got it.” He nods perceptively. “Jill. Will she be there?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Kinda hope she isn’t.”

“Trust me, I know that feeling better than you think I do.”

“You do?”

Rio smiles, nodding slightly, and with that the tension breaks.

He draws a laboured breath. “Were you human once? You look…” Rio watches him gesture her up and down.

From the corner of her eye, the hospice nurses offer discrete, confirming nods. The kind that never require further conversation. Rio resists the sudden urge to show him her face—her true face—in response to his prying. The staff all knew when Rio visited. They knew when she left. She was a regular in this neck of the woods, a person they could feel in the air like the scent of perfume - invisible and entirely distinct. She didn’t like to trouble them anymore than they troubled her.

Sometimes, they caused her trouble.

But never the hospice nurses.

“I don’t know if there’s banana pudding. And there’s been a lot of Jills, far too many to remember. And I think you know I’m not here to talk about myself, don’t you?” Rio levels at the elderly man. “I’m here to do my job.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

There isn’t time for this - the back and forth.

The question amuses her nonetheless.

“Not particularly. I punch-in, punch-out, I do it very well, if that gives you any comfort. Did you…have a job like that?”

“Yeah, I wish now I hadn’t.”

“Well.” Rio pushes out her cheeks, slightly exasperated. “Too late for regrets.”

“Everything…hurts.” He looks at her tiredly. “Can we take the pudding to go?” 

Rio likes that.

That makes her smile. 

“Sure we can.”

A deep peaceful sigh left him - he was finally ready.

Expectantly, the elderly man extends his weathered hand toward her. His fingertips graze against her fingertips, wrinkly and warm, ready to be taken away from this place despite the fear of her never leaving him for a moment, as though with the lightest tug of his wrist he could rise from the bed, light as a feather, and Death will take him for a long scenic walk to the next place beyond this world.

Rio took his hand gently.

“Hold this for me a sec.” Rio precariously rested the banana pudding cup on his collarbone. She took the blade from her thigh, haphazardly tossing it round to catch the handle, then quickly stabbed his chest several times as though jabbing a hot pen knife into butter. “Thanks.” She flipped and holstered the blade - the soul collected.

She let go of his limp wrist, allowing it fall down against his stilled chest in a thud. The alarms bleeted loudly into the echoing long corridor - then the cries, always the cries of concerned family and visitors with no further business that concerned her - Rio left and thought nothing of their distress.

They always imagine her so differently.

Express delivery only, Rio had a busy night ahead.

She had to be in Westview come sunrise.

***

Deep and dark was the persistent endless night. The entire mountain fell upon her in a storm of heavy jagged rocks and unbreathable, thick sharp dust that scraped her skin and stung her eyes as it slowly settled. The stagnant heat of harsh beating sunlight, somewhere out there beyond the persistent constant dark, was how Wanda kept track of the time. In the evenings, the cool air brought damp cold mildew which coated the boulders pressing every inch of her body, and the water droplets struck her forehead from a single crack above in awkward unpredictable rhythms. The first night, she willed her survival.

Perhaps Kamar-Taj would pity her once Stephen explained the condition of her maddening grief. He would save her, of course. He had to save her. He was a hero. The Sorcerer Supreme, the protector of earth, the lone sworn sentinel against magic and mystical threats out there between the darkest shades of reality. And what was she?

Who was she if not a hero? 

A woman relentlessly tormented into madness.

Perhaps this was the condition of all villains, Wanda decided.

The third night came, the sound of scraping rocks and movement disturbing her tomb above finally greeted her ears. She strained into the noise, welcomed it like a friend, then thought of her sons and felt her heart retreat backward in shame. The fourth night, the digging grew louder, and tears carved across her dry scabbed lips. Wanda clung to life like a leech. She hungered to survive. Lame, broken, disfigured and dying, she fought with insurmountable will to save herself—to persevere against the mountain.

Until she heard the faint howls.

The hungry snarls of scavenging pack animals disturbing the sediment above.

Wanda went slack, still, quiet and madder than her body could contain. Nobody was coming to save her. She closed her eyes, summoning her scarlet, imagining herself provoking wefts of bright glorious red from her palms, how the dust and sheets of rock would explode outward around her. She would rise in a tide of chaos, fire and glorious red—bright, burning scarlet.

But nothing came.

And Wanda wept and finally wished for Death.

“I have waited so long to say these words to you…” A woman in a crown of obsidian black glass laid beside her as though she had always been there. “Hello, Wanda Maximoff.”

She is there but not there. She is contorted around the jagged rock, her body stretched like ribbon strewn around each obstacle, more viper than woman—more creature than person. A dull green light exudes from her, bright enough to make Wanda wince and turn her cheek, but she feels sharp nails slip along her belly, her ribs, calling back her attention. She smells petrichor and…

Fermenting fruit, rotting cherries, the kind her step-father would stew and seal tightly in jars stacked neatly under the dank kitchen sink, and how the pungent smell of spoiled black cherries and sugar separating into alcohol would puncture their home as the jars were filtered months later, how she would slip into bed with Piotr and cradle his ears when their step-father drank to much of it, how their mother would place herself in front of the bedroom door like a barricade and bear the brunt of it.

A voice rumbles low like an earthquake, “Look at me.”

Wanda obeys instantly, terrified and without other choices to make.

Her fear delights Death.

Wanda’s voice frays with inactivity, “You came. I imagined you so…”

“Differently. Mhm. The name’s Rio.” She cranes her neck to get a better look, assessing the damage. “Your hips are shattered. Pretty nasty cranial bleed. Traumatic amputation at both knees, yuck. Your elbow is broken in…three places? That must be”—her eyebrows go upward in amazement, her head nodding enthusiastically—“Pretty painful, huh?”

“Please make it stop?”

“I will.” Rio smiles. “In time.”

Wanda watched in horror as the faint dull green smog begins to fade like the flicker of a dying candle. “Where are you going!”

“You took something special from me.” Rio stares down at the Scarlet Witch. “Somebody I have loved very, very much for centuries, Wanda. I don’t like it when people take my things.”

“Don’t leave me here!” 

“Then tell me how to lift the spell?”

“The spell?”

“The nasty little hex you trapped her in for the last nine months!” The woman rears forward with maddening grief in her eyes. “Give her back to me and then we can talk about your mortal soul.”

There is no further explanation needed, Wanda understands perfectly well, knows exactly who Death is referring to. Agatha Harkness. She doesn’t know how to admit the truth—how to tell her the only answer she has to offer.

“You don’t know how to lift it.” Rio closes her eyes. “Well, Wanda, until we figure that out? I’ll know exactly where to find you. That’s what you said to her, right?”

“Please don’t do this.” Wanda lurches forward. “Please! Please take me with you, I’ll help you! I swear. Please…please you have to take me from this place!”

“I said I would take you, didn’t I?” Death plays with the tip of an ornate knife. “You just have to suffer for a little bit first. Agatha would like that. Let’s circle back in a few days. You’re not going anywhere, I’m sure you’ll be available,” her voice and light fades away.

[dumbasslesbi2]

God I Hate You ~NSFW (Agatha x Rio) Detective AU

Summary:

Detective Agatha Harkness fucked up, she forgot her and Rio's anniversary. Now Rio's at home waiting at home to confront Agatha.

Notes:

I really needed some smutty hate fucking. I love these two so much, Warning: NSFW, Hate fucking

Agatha had been a detective for a while now but one thing she never had was a good self to work relationship. Tonight was no exception, Agatha had worked herself late into the night, not thinking at all of the time or day. One person did though, Rio Vidal. It was their three year anniversary and Rio had reminded Agatha for the past week about their reservation plans. However, Agatha being Agatha, didn't remember. Leaving Rio sitting at the restaurant alone for an hour. She sat there fuming, after being 3 wine glasses in, she left. Now she's in their house, sitting on the couch waiting for Agatha to come back home. It was about two am when Rio finally heard the door open. Agatha walked in not thinking about what day it could have been. She put all her files on the kitchen table before seeing Rio standing in their living room. At first she was breath taken by how beautiful Rio was before realizing why she was dressed like that. 

“Fuck me” Agatha said, groaning. “Yeah Agatha, fuck you. I sat waiting for you and you never fucking showed. Do I not matter to you anymore?” Rio asked, fuming and ready to year Agatha a part. “No Rio, you matter. It's just- look, work is a lot right now this case can't -" "Agatha I talked to your chief, even he says you're doing too much” Rio interrupted her, not wanting to deal with Agatha's bullshit. “But baby-” “No don't baby me, you fucked up Agatha, bad. I don't want you in my bed tonight “ Rio told her sternly, interrupting her again. “Rio just let me-” “No, I don't care,” Rio said, interrupting her a third time. At this point Agatha was over it and fully pissed. Rio wasn't letting her have a single word. She knew she fucked up but she atleast wanted to explain to Rio why she was fucking up. “Are you fucking done interrupting me” Agatha said in a sarcastic tone. “I don't know, am I Agatha?” Rio asked in a calm tone. “Rio, I get it you're pissed. I fucked up but that doesn't -” “ oh here we go aga-” “ WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME FINISH” Agatha screaming in her low growly voice, interrupting Rio. The both went silent while Agatha walked closer to her. “My love-” “oh don't you-” before Rio could even finish after interrupting Agatha, she was tackled on the couch. 

Agatha was over talking and threw Rio on the couch, putting her hands on her wrists so she couldn't try and get the upper hand on Agatha. “Are you gonna be a good slut and listen or do you wanna keep being a brat” Agatha told her sternly. “Why are you acting like you don't love it when I'm a brat” Rio told her, smiling. Agatha wasn't having it and started nipping and licking Rio’s neck. She didn't want to start moaning but Rio couldn't hold it. Rio was a moaning mess, trying to move her arms to touch Agatha but she couldn't. “Stop moving whore” Agatha said in-between kisses, putting her legs near Rio's crotch. “A-Agatha” Rio started to plead, trying her best to get out of Agatha's grip. “What did I say earlier?” Agatha said, taking herself off of Rio's neck. Agatha didn't like how overdressed Rio was and full on ripped Rio’s dress. “I fucking like that dress” Rio exclaimed after Agatha fully shredded it. “I'll buy you a new one, shut up” Agatha told her, taking off Rios bra. If Rio was already marked up on her neck and chest, it was only getting worse. Agatha marked and kissed all skin she could have possible get her mouth on. “Agatha, please “ Rio pleaded, wanting Agatha to finally fuck her. “Please what, I need words Rio “ Agatha said, getting lower. At this point Agatha was licking and nipping Rio's stomach. She loved how soft her stomach was and the small pooch she had. Since Rio's hands were finally free, she threaded her hands in Agatha's hair and started pushing her down to where she wanted her. Agatha didn't care at this point and was met with Rio's clothed cunt. She started licking and sucking, not removing Rio's panties. 

She wanted to torture her and tease her more. Rio was crying at this point, not having direct contact was killing her. “Agatha please, I need you” Rio pleaded once more, hoping this time Agatha would give her what she wanted. Agatha too was at her limit and moved her panties to the side and plunged three fingers into Rio's pussy. Even then, she wanted Rio to full on have an orgasm so she started sucking her clit as hard as possible. Rio couldn't moan anymore and basically did a silent scream. No sound came out but her mouth was agape, her eyes rolling back. She almost had an instant orgasm from how rough Agatha fucked her. Once Agatha felt Rio jerking under her, she started to slow down her pace, kissing her way back up to Rio. When she reached Rio's face, she brought her fingers up and let Rio suck them. Rio licked and sucked Agatha's fingers until letting go with a pop and passionately kissing Agatha. When they finally separated, Agatha was the first one to break the silence. “I'm sorry” she whispered, not looking at Rio. “Pull this shit again and I might actually leave you” Rio told her, still trying to catch her breath. “I know, I love you. I'm so sorry my love” Agatha told her with full sincerity in her voice. “You're lucky I love it when we hate fuck” Rio said, giving Agatha a quick kiss on the lips before she got up and went to their bedroom. “You get bed privileges, for now” Rio said once she realized Agatha wasn't following her. “Thank you my love” Agatha said before getting up and following Rio.

[itberice]

[the-ominous-owl]

agatha going from:

to:

you-know-what-that-is-growth.jpg

[officialpenisenvy]

saint agatha's top surgery experience

(Francesco Guarino, 1640; Lanfranco Giovanni, 1614)

[d-z20]

Yield and Obey (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You decide to act out by not listening to Agatha in front of the coven and when you don't take the opportunity to correct yourself, she has to punish you

- OR -

You get spanked for your brattiness and then fucked (and bred) into submission

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Agatha, bratty reader, Dom/Sub dynamics, spanking, breeding, magic g!p, degradation, tiniest amount of praise, possessive Agatha, she kind of just uses reader for her own pleasure at the end

Words: 3.2k

A/N: I've realised that I mostly imagine Agatha being taller than reader (even though Kathryn is only 5'5) like I refuse to believe that THE Agatha Harkness isn't tall👀👀

AO3 | Masterlist

The room buzzes with the quiet hum of activity, the coven murmuring over spell books, tendrils of magic curling in the air. It’s a chaotic yet strangely comforting scene—home to the powerful and the power-hungry alike. You lean against the edge of a wooden table near the fireplace, where Jen meticulously stirs a glowing potion. Alice sits cross-legged nearby, her hands weaving through glittering threads of enchantment. Even Rio has made an appearance, lounging in a corner and casting sharp, knowing glances at anyone who dares disrupt the tenuous harmony.

But despite the coven’s dynamic energy, your attention is fixated entirely elsewhere. Specifically, on her.

Agatha Harkness perches in her usual chair, an aura of authority emanating effortlessly from her every gesture. The flickering firelight catches her dark, slightly dishevelled waves, which frame sharp cheekbones and an unsettlingly beautiful smirk that always promises trouble. The soft linen of her blouse clings to her frame, tucked neatly into purple high-waisted slacks that somehow make her appear even taller. She’s a woman you can never quite look away from, her presence magnetic, her power intoxicating.

She’s toying with a strand of her hair now, feigning disinterest in the goings-on around her. But you know her too well to fall for that act. She doesn’t miss a thing. Least of all the way you’re staring.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” she says at last, her gaze cutting to yours like a knife.

Your cheeks burn as the rest of the coven barely spares the two of you a glance. These moments between you and Agatha are commonplace by now, a sort of game only the two of you understand. But even in the relative privacy of the bustling room, her voice carries an edge of authority that twists your stomach into delicious knots.

“Just watching,” you reply, a little too innocently.

Agatha arches a brow, her smirk deepening. “Is that so?”

Her tone sends a shiver down your spine. She knows exactly what you want, and she’s going to make you work for it.

Jen glances up from her potion and mutters something about the moon phases aligning for a powerful incantation. Rio snickers, clearly amused by the tension thickening between you and Agatha. But neither of you pays them any mind.

“Why don’t you help Lilia with the herbs?” Agatha suggests, her tone deceptively sweet.

It’s a command, not a question. Your defiance flares up instantly—your bratty streak refusing to let her have the upper hand so easily.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” You quip back, folding your arms.

The silence that follows is deafening. Even Rio stops smirking, her sharp eyes darting between you and Agatha. The rest of the coven seems to hold its collective breath, tension hanging in the air like an impending storm.

Agatha rises slowly from her chair, the firelight painting her every movement in shades of gold and shadow. She doesn’t have to say a word—her mere presence is enough to make your pulse quicken.

“Out,” she says, her voice calm but laced with steel.

The coven members exchange looks before scattering like leaves in the wind, muttering excuses as they file out of the room. Rio lingers for a moment longer, her grin returning as she mouths, Good luck, before slipping out the door.

Now it’s just the two of you, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows across the walls. Agatha closes the distance between you with measured steps, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor.

“Do you want to try that again?” She asks, tilting her head as she looms over you.

Your heart pounds as you bite your lip, refusing to back down even as your body betrays you with a telltale shiver of anticipation. “Nah, I’m okay, thank you.”

Her smirk returns, sharper this time. “Oh, darling. You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Before you can respond, she grabs your wrist and pulls you toward her chair. The force of her magic ripples through the room, locking the door with a resounding click. You barely have time to process what’s happening before you find yourself draped over her lap with your bare ass exposed, your breath hitching as her hand settles firmly on your lower back.

“Since you’re so eager to challenge me, I think you deserve a proper lesson,” she purrs, her voice low and dangerous.

Your skin flushes with heat as you wriggle slightly, testing the strength of her grip. Agatha chuckles darkly, her nails grazing the curve of your hip in warning.

“Stay still,” she orders.

You bite back a grin, knowing exactly how much it’ll annoy her if you don’t. “Make me.” 

It’s childish and probably the most cliche bratty thing you could say, but that’s exactly why you said it: you know it’ll just frustrate Agatha even more.

The first sharp slap lands before you can brace yourself, the sting radiating through your body and drawing a gasp from your lips. She doesn’t hold back (she never does) and that’s precisely why you crave this.

“Oh, you’re going to regret that attitude,” she murmurs, her tone dripping with amusement.

But you don’t regret it, not one bit. You squirm under her hand, revelling in the sensation, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that only she can deliver. Each strike sends a jolt of electricity through you, your defiance slowly melting into submission as she works her magic—both literally and figuratively.

“You enjoy this far too much,” she says, her voice softening as she leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Maybe,” you admit breathlessly, your cheek pressed against the fabric of the armchair.

Her hand pauses, resting on the now-sensitive skin of your thigh. She runs her fingers over the faint marks she’s left, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Good,” she says simply. “Because we’re just getting started.”

The next strike comes harder than the last, making you cry out and instinctively grab at the edge of the chair. Your fingers curl against the fabric as your breathing grows heavier, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Agatha’s hand stays firmly on your back, keeping you pinned in place.

“You’ve got such a smart mouth, don’t you?” She muses. “Let’s see how clever you are now. Count for me.”

Your head swims, the heat from her palm still lingering on your skin. “W-What?”

“Count,” she repeats, her hand hovering over you. “Or we’ll start all over again.”

Her words make your stomach twist with a heady mix of anticipation and dread. You nod quickly, your voice trembling. “O-One.”

The next slap lands sharply, making your body jolt. “Two,” you gasp, your voice hitching with the sting.

Agatha’s smirk widens as she settles into a steady rhythm, each strike drawing a breathy moan or soft cry from your lips. You can feel her leaning in closer, her breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Poor thing,” she coos mockingly. “You’re enjoying this far too much. Listen to yourself, whimpering like a needy little thing.”

“F-Four,” you stammer, unable to suppress the moan that follows.

She chuckles, her hand caressing the tender skin of your thighs before delivering another strike.

“Five.”

By the time you reach ten, your mind is spinning and your body burns with arousal. The friction against her slacks hasn’t gone unnoticed either—not by her, at least. Agatha pauses, her hand sliding down to rest on your thigh, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles that make your breath catch.

“Well, well,” she drawls, her voice dripping with condescension. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

You freeze, your face heating as you realise what she means. The smooth fabric of her slacks now bears a darker patch, evidence of just how worked up you are. Agatha tilts her head, feigning pity, though the smirk playing on her lips betrays her true feelings.

“Absolutely shameless,” she remarks, her tone a mixture of amusement and disdain. “And here I thought you had some self-control.”

You squirm under her hand, your embarrassment only heightening your arousal. “I—”

“Quiet,” she interrupts, sitting back with a snap of her fingers. “On your feet. Now.”

Her magic compels you to obey, even as your legs tremble slightly. You stand before her, your head lowered as her sharp gaze roams over you. Then, with another snap of her fingers, the world seems to shift.

The cool air against your skin tells you that you’re now completely bare, and your eyes widen as you realise Agatha has shed her own clothing with the same effortless command. She leans back in the chair, her powerful presence now magnified by her lack of restraint.

What catches your attention most, however, is the unmistakable addition of something new. A large, thick length juts proudly from her body, clearly the result of some well-placed magic. Your breath hitches as you stare, your heart pounding in anticipation.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” she teases, standing gracefully and closing the small distance between you. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?”

Her hand cups your chin, tilting your face up so you meet her piercing gaze. “You wanted to play brat,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “So now you’ll take exactly what I give you.”

You can only nod, your body thrumming with desire. Agatha smirks, her other hand sliding down to grip your waist as she guides you back toward the chair.

“Good girl,” she purrs. “Now let’s see if you can be a little more obedient this time.”

Her lips crash against yours, stealing what little composure you have left. The weight of her body against yours, the heat of her skin, the sheer dominance she exudes—it’s all too much, and yet not nearly enough.

Agatha’s lips leave yours as she pushes you backward, guiding you with an unrelenting grip on your hips until your thighs meet the edge of the chair. Her sharp eyes gleam with amusement, a smirk tugging at her lips as she spins you around effortlessly.

“Bend over,” she orders, her voice low and commanding.

You obey, pressing your chest against the cool wool of the chair’s backrest. The angle leaves you entirely exposed to her; your legs spread just enough to keep you steady. The vulnerability of the position only heightens the intensity of your desire, a soft whimper escaping as you feel her hand glide over the curve of your backside.

Her fingers trail down, teasingly slow, until they slip between your legs. You gasp, your body jolting as her fingers brush against your dripping heat. Agatha chuckles darkly, her fingers exploring lazily, spreading your arousal as if testing just how far gone you already are.

“My, my,” she hums, her tone dripping with mockery. “You’re soaked. No wonder you were squirming all over my lap.”

Her fingers begin to move more deliberately, sliding between your folds, the pads pressing against you just enough to make you ache for more. Each movement sends shivers down your spine, but it isn’t enough to satisfy the throbbing need that’s building within you.

“Such a desperate little thing,” she coos, her other hand gripping your hip to keep you from bucking against her touch. “But look at this.”

She withdraws her hand, and you whimper in protest. Glancing over your shoulder, you see her raise her fingers, glistening with your arousal. “I can’t even get any friction,” she taunts. “You’re so wet, my fingers just slide right off.”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need.

“Please?” She repeats mockingly, her smirk widening. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.”

You feel her shift behind you, her body pressing closer as her hands grip your hips firmly. The head of her magically conjured length nudges against your entrance, and your breath hitches.

Agatha leans down, her lips brushing against your ear as she speaks. “Brace yourself, darling. This won’t be gentle.”

Before you can respond, she pushes forward in one fluid motion, filling you completely. The sudden stretch makes you cry out, your fingers gripping the chair’s backrest as she gives you no time to adjust. Agatha pulls back only to thrust forward again, harder this time, the force of it making the chair creak beneath you.

She sets a brutal pace, her hips snapping against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, the wet slapping of skin against skin filling the room alongside your moans and gasps.

“Listen to you,” Agatha pants, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Making such filthy sounds. You’d think this was the only thing you’re good for.”

Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging into your skin as she loses herself in the rhythm. Every movement is precise and calculated, yet utterly unrestrained in its intensity. Her breathing grows heavier, her usually composed demeanour beginning to crack under the weight of her own pleasure.

The wet, obscene sounds of her thrusts only spur her on, her pace quickening as she drives into you with relentless force. “Such a perfect little plaything,” she growls, her voice low and breathless. “Taking everything I give you so beautifully.”

Your legs tremble beneath you, your body barely able to keep up with her unyielding pace. The pressure building inside you is overwhelming, your moans turning into incoherent cries as you teeter on the edge of release.

The coil in your stomach tightens to an unbearable degree as Agatha’s relentless pace drives you closer and closer to the edge. Each wet, resounding slap of her hips against you fills the room, mixing with the ragged cries spilling from your lips. Her hand comes down on your ass once more—harder this time—and the sharp sting sends you spiralling.

Your body tenses as the pressure inside you snaps, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. A strangled scream tears from your throat, your voice echoing through the room as the force of your orgasm wracks your body. Stars dance in your vision as you convulse beneath her, your walls clenching down on her so tightly that she lets out a guttural groan of her own.

“Oh, that’s it,” Agatha hisses, her voice trembling with pleasure and control. “Such a good little thing, screaming for me like that.”

Your body sags against the chair, your limbs trembling as aftershocks ripple through you. But Agatha isn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

Her hands tighten on your hips, her nails digging into your sensitive skin as she picks up her pace once more. Each thrust is brutal, her hips slamming into yours with a force that sends shockwaves through your overstimulated body.

“You’re not done yet,” she growls, her voice low and breathless. “I’m not done.”

Her movements grow desperate, the sound of her cock driving into your slick heat punctuated by wet, obscene slaps. You whimper beneath her, your body shaking as she uses you with abandon, chasing her own release.

“You’d take anything I gave you, wouldn’t you? You’d let me fill you up—over and over again—until my cum drips out of you,” she sneers, her voice tinged with dark amusement.

Her words send another jolt of heat through you, your body responding despite the overwhelming sensations. Agatha notices, of course, her sharp laugh ringing out as she drives herself even deeper.

“You like the idea, don’t you?” She taunts, her breath hot against your ear as she leans over you. “Being bred by me. Being so full that you can’t think of anything else.”

“Yes,” you whimper, your voice breaking as you push back against her, desperate to give her whatever she wants. “Please, Agatha—please!”

Her growl is low and feral, her control slipping as her thrusts grow erratic. She is lost in the overwhelming heat of you, her movements fuelled by pure instinct and desire.

“I’ll fill you up,” she promises, her voice rough with lust. “I’ll fill you so full, you’ll feel me for days. You’ll look at yourself and know who you belong to.”

Her hips slam into you, her pace brutal and unforgiving as she chases her release. The wet, obscene slapping of skin against skin fills the room, the sound mixing with her ragged breaths and low, desperate groans.

“You’re mine,” she growls, her voice trembling as she grips your hips tighter. “Mine to use. Mine to breed. Mine.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the weight of her possessiveness igniting something deep within you. You cry out, your body trembling as her thrusts grow even harder, each one driving her deeper inside you.

With one final, brutal thrust, Agatha stills, her body shuddering as she finds her release. Her low, guttural moan fills the room as she spills herself inside you, the heat of her release flooding your core.

For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of your ragged breaths. Agatha stays pressed against you, her hands trailing over your sweat-slicked skin as she catches her breath. Then, slowly, she leans down, her lips brushing against your ear.

“Perfect,” she whispers, her voice soft but full of dark satisfaction. “Absolutely perfect.”

She lingers a moment longer, her hands gripping your hips tightly as if anchoring herself to reality. Slowly, with deliberate care, she begins to pull out. A shudder courses through your body as she withdraws, the lack of her cock leaving you feeling achingly empty. She stands upright, holding you firmly in place as she gazes down at the mess she’s made.

“Look at that,” she purrs, her voice full of dark satisfaction as she watches her cum drip out of you, trailing down your thighs in thick, sticky streams. “What a sight. You really are a perfect little toy, aren’t you?”

Her fingers trail along the curve of your back before she raises her hand one last time. The sharp crack of her palm against your sore, sensitive flesh makes you yelp, though the sound quickly dissolves into a whimper of pleasure.

Agatha chuckles darkly, her palm soothing over the reddened skin for a moment before she steps back. With a snap of her fingers, your clothes are back on, though the sensation of her still lingers—thick and undeniable. Your thighs clench involuntarily, the sticky mess now trapped inside your underwear, a constant reminder of what has just transpired.

Agatha, now back in her usual poised form, adjusts her blouse with a casual flick of her hand. “You really should listen to instructions the first time, darling,” she says with a sly smirk, her voice laced with teasing admonishment. She leans in close, her breath warm against your cheek. “Now, keep it all inside. If you manage that, maybe you’ll get rewarded later.”

She knows it’s an impossible ask, and your cheeks burn as her words sink in, your body still trembling from the lingering aftermath of her touch. Agatha straightens, her sharp gaze flicking over you one last time before she turns toward the door.

“Come along, pet,” she commands, her tone firm as she casts a glance over her shoulder. “The others are waiting. We wouldn’t want to keep them, now would we?”

You swallow hard, your legs shaky as you push yourself upright, the heat between your thighs a constant, maddening reminder of her dominance.

As you follow Agatha out of the room, the teasing sway of her hips draws your eyes, and you know you’re in for a long evening.

-----

Her shirt and purple pants combo is so fucking good, especially when her hair is down. The scene where she's sat round camp and starts rolling up her sleeve is probably one of my favourite scenes like ughhhhhhhh so hot.

-----

Taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33

(let me know if you want to be added)

[lenkist]

Good job, detective

Detective!Agatha x fem!reader (3.2k words)

summary: you’re a newly minted detective who just cracked your first murder case, and the entire police department decided to celebrate with a small party—naturally, Agatha Harkness was there.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, g!p agatha harkness, smut, dirty talk, penetration, blowjob, mommy issue, explicit language, age gap, praising kink, outdoor, unprotected sex, slight footjob

a/n: I was a little high on edibles and listening to Crush by Ethel Cain while writing this. Let me know if you guys want part 2!

Case closed. The bad guy got caught. You did it.

The air in the bar is filled with the smell of spilled beer and the stale scent of whiskey that lingered from the bar’s low-lit corners.

Tonight, the place felt even smaller than usual, the laughter of the police officers in the corner fading into the background as you kept your eyes on the one person who hadn't yet congratulated you on your first solved murder case: Detective Agatha Harkness.

She was sitting by herself like she always did. A worn cigarette dangled from her lips, ash falling off in slow, lazy bits. Her beer, the cheapest they had, was halfway gone, and her navy cargo pants and dark flannel looked as though they’d seen too many long nights like this.

She looked at ease, but the slight tension in her posture told you she wasn’t entirely relaxed. Maybe she hadn’t been for years.

“Good job, newbie,” Herb said, clinking his beer against your shoulder, snapping you back to the present.

You offered him a polite smile. Herb was one of the few people in the department you found easy to talk to. “Thanks, but it wasn’t just me. Agatha helped a lot with the case.”

“She did,” Herb said, his gaze drifting over your shoulder. You didn’t need to look to know he was watching Agatha. “She can be tough, sure, but she’s one hell of a mentor—and an even better detective. The best we’ve got.”

Your heartbeat quickened, and you felt your cheeks flush as you nodded. “Yeah,” you agreed, your voice quieter. “She’s really good at that.”

You’d been watching her all night, trying to figure out if she was as untouchable as she seemed. Now, drunk and buzzed from the alcohol, you figured you might as well try.

You waited until the last of the other cops had filtered out and the bar had quieted before finally making your move toward her.

You wobbled slightly as you approached her booth, the floor beneath your boots feeling unsteady. Agatha didn’t even look up. She didn’t need to. She already knew you were coming.

“Detective,” you said, your voice slurring just a bit. “Thought I’d join you.”

Agatha looked up slowly, her blue eyes narrowing just the slightest as she took in your unsteady stance. She didn’t smile. Didn’t say a word for a long moment. The only sound was the faint clink of her beer hitting the table.

“You’re drunk.” She muttered, voice rough like she hadn’t spoken all night. Her cigarette dangled from her lips, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light.

You didn’t care. You were tired of playing it safe, tired of pretending you didn’t notice her, that you didn’t feel that pull when you were around her. “So what?” you said, voice a little more defiant than you intended. “Doesn’t mean I can’t talk to you.”

She took a long drag from her cigarette, eyes still locked on you, sizing you up. “It means you can’t think straight,” she said, voice flat. “And you’re about to make a fool of yourself.”

“Maybe I do want to make a fool of myself.”

Agatha snorted softly, shaking her head as a sly smirk curved her lips. “I know exactly what you’re doing,”

“Oh?” you replied, tilting your head. “And what’s that?”

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as if she were interrogating a suspect. “Trying to sleep with your senior detective to fast-track your career. It’s cute, really.”

“It’s not about climbing the ladder,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of her scrutiny. “I just wanna have a drink with you, that’s all. Celebrating our success on the case. We worked so hard together, didn’t we?”

“Isn’t it, though?” Agatha countered, her eyes narrowing like she was analyzing every detail of your reaction. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks that way.”

“I’m not interested in hiding my desires, detective,” you said softly, looking down and seeing a noticeable bulge on Agatha’s pants. You wet your lips. “Can’t say the same to you, though.”

For the first time, Agatha didn’t look away. But she didn’t smile either. Instead, her gaze darkened, and she put the cigarette out in the ashtray between you. “I’m not the one you want, kid,” she said, voice a little more serious now, almost a warning. “I’m trouble. And you’re better off without it.”

You scoffed, your head swimming a little more with every word she said, but you pushed through. “You think I’m some little rookie who’s scared of a little trouble?”

“Yeah,” she replied, voice thick with that Southern drawl. “I think that’s exactly what you are. And you think you’re the first one who’s tried to make a move on me after a few drinks?”

Her words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t back off. You weren’t going to let her get away with pushing you away like she had with everyone else.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, the alcohol making your thoughts fuzzier. “But I’m more fun. You’ll see.”

Agatha tilted her head, studying you carefully. You could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, and for a split second, there was something soft there— curiosity, maybe. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold, distant look that made her so damn good at shutting people out.

“I’ve been down that road, sweetheart,” she said, her voice low, cocky. “I don’t need another mess in my life. Especially not one that can’t even hold their liquor.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine,” you said, your voice firm now, the alcohol starting to fuel your stubbornness. “I just think maybe you’re a little scared of me.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Scared of you?” she repeated, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’ve been around, kid. Don’t flatter yourself.”

You leaned in closer, your chest almost brushing against the edge of the table. “Maybe I’m not the one who’s scared,” you said softly, words coming out before you could think. “Maybe you’re just too afraid to let someone in.”

She didn’t confirm, or deny. She didn’t need to.

Instead, Agatha stood up suddenly, her movements slow, deliberate. “You’re drunk, rookie, get rest. Go home,” she muttered, her voice almost tired now. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, she walked out of the booth, her figure disappearing into the dim light of the small bar.

You watched the smoke from her last cigarette curl in the air, and it seemed to mock you, reminding you of the way Agatha had pulled away from you without a second thought. But you weren’t going to let it end like that. Not tonight.

You weren’t a fool. You could tell by the way she looked at you—half dismissive, half something else—that she wasn’t immune to whatever this was. That flicker of vulnerability that she quickly buried every time you came close, the little moments where she didn’t pull away fast enough. She might have tried to shut you down, but you could see it, just beneath the surface.

And you weren’t backing down.

You pushed yourself away from the booth and stumbled a little as you made your way to the door, your boots clicking a little too loudly against the worn wooden floors. You had no idea where she went, but you had a feeling you didn’t need to look far.

Agatha was at the far end of the empty parking lot, leaning against her car, a cigarette in her hand. The glow of the streetlamp cast a shadow over her, making her look even more like she belonged to the night than she had inside.

You walked toward her slowly, your thoughts still clouded by the alcohol, but your steps steady.

She didn’t look up when you stopped a few feet away from her. “Thought I told you to go home,” Agatha’s voice was low and rough, and she didn’t turn to face you. Her thumb flickers a cigarette’s butt.

You didn’t take a step back. “I don’t think you told me that,” you replied, your voice more confident than you felt. “You just tried to get rid of me.”

“Same thing.” She took another drag. “You’ve already had your fun for the night. Go back inside, have another drink with the others. Let them keep telling you how great you are.”

“They’re all already gone home.”

Agatha shrugged. “And you should too, kid.”

Then, without warning,

You stepped forward, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from her, the tension so thick between you two that it almost made the air crackle. Agatha’s breath hitched as you grabbed her crotch.

Fuck it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You said you didn’t want me, liar,” you said softly, your voice low, your chest tight. “You’re hard, detective.”

Agatha didn’t say anything right away. But when she did, it wasn’t with words. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing the back of your neck before pulling you in. The kiss was slow, deliberate, testing, like she was still deciding if she wanted this, if you were worth it.

You moan into her greedy mouth. Your hand squeezes her bulge, earning a sweet moan and a soft hip buck from Agatha. You’re practically throwing yourself into her arms. That pulled-up sleeve of her flannel is making your head dizzy. She’s such a handsome woman, and you want nothing more than for her to ruin you, to have your fingernails clawing onto her veiny arms as she choked you in bed.

When she pulled back, her blue eyes were darker than they had been before. Her breath was shallow, but she still didn’t say anything.

“Agatha?” you call for her, unsure if you have pushed it too far. “I—”

“Get in the car,” she demands, pulling your hair with force. “Now.”

Swallowing hard, you took a step back and reluctantly broke away from her embrace. As you walked towards the car, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear coursing through your veins. This was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, but the idea of being with Agatha, having her in every way possible, was intoxicating.

As you reached the car, Agatha slid into the driver's seat, her eyes never leaving yours. You could see the hunger and desire mirrored in her gaze. It made your heart race even faster and sent a surge of adrenaline through your body.

"You’ve been bad," she whispered, breathing hard. She didn’t even bother to take off her clothes. Agatha just unzipped her cargo pants and freed her hardened, big, thick cock, and sighed in relief.

“God, Agatha—”

"Look at the mess you made me, hon."

You couldn't help but lick your lips in anticipation. The sight of it was overwhelming, and you felt a surge of arousal that you had never experienced before. You knew this was wrong to fuck your peer, but all you could think about was feeling that perfect cock inside you, being impaled on it and taken by the woman you had been so drawn to for months.

Your cunt clenched around nothing with the thought of Agatha’s hands on your hips, fucking your pussy. “Please.”

"Begging me to fuck you already, huh?" she said, her voice low and sexy. "I bet you'd be great at anything I asked you to do."

You couldn't help but blush at the compliment, feeling a warm sensation spread through your body. "What do you want me to do next?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned forward to press her lips against yours in a gentle, possessive kiss. "I think it's time for you to show me just how good you are," she said, her voice low and husky. She reached down, grasping your hair gently and pulling you toward her cock. "Suck me off, baby," she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative.

You didn't need to be told twice. You eagerly took Agatha's cock into your mouth, savoring the taste of her leaks like a sweet honey.

She groaned in pleasure as you began to suck and stroke her, feeling her cock twitch and grow harder in your mouth. She’s so big that you can’t even fit it down your throat without choking in tears.

“It’s fine, baby, take it slow.”

You nodded and ran your tongue over the head of her cock. You could feel her thighs trembling as you worked your way down her length, teasing the sensitive areas with your tongue and lips. Agatha moaned loudly, her hands gripping your hair tightly as she enjoyed the sensations.

You moved faster, knowing that you had to bring her to climax soon. You could feel a powerful energy building within you just from pleasuring her, and you knew that this was something you wanted to do for her again and again. Her hips bucked against you, both her hands now gripping your hair as she began to lose in the sensation, each movement pushing her cock deeper and deeper.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, her voice a low growl. Her head was throwing against the seat, her eyes were closed and her lips parted in messy moans as she held your head still and fucked into your mouth. She looked high and drunk in absolute pleasure, and that made you feel proud of yourself. "Yes, just like that."

You could feel the tension building within her, and you knew that she was close. Her breathing grew ragged, and her grip on your hair tightened as she neared the edge.

"I'm going to cum," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Yes, right there."

And then it happened – Agatha's body stiffened, and her cock throbbed in your mouth as she came. You felt the warm rush of her climax as she flooded your mouth with hot fluids. Your eyes rolled in pleasure and your nose pressed against her pubic hair. She cried out, her voice a mix of pleasure and relief, as she rode out her orgasm.

Eventually, she softened and pulled out of your mouth, collapsing back onto her seat. You pushed yourself up, catching your breath. You’re dripping wet and Agatha noticed the needs in your eyes.

Then, Agatha commands. “On your knees.”

You quickly obeyed, moving to the backseat, getting down on all fours with your ass in the air. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and you pushed yourself back against Agatha's legs, yearning for her touch.

You’re so ready to get fucked out of your sanity. You‘re a mess, drunk in alcohol and Agatha’s touch.

"That's it, baby," Agatha crooned, her hand running up and down your spine, sending shivers through your entire body. "Just like that."

With a grunt of effort, Agatha positioned herself behind you. You could feel the head of her cock probing against your entrance, testing your readiness. You whimpered softly, a mix of fear and excitement washing over you.

With a fierce grip on your hips, Agatha thrust forward. You felt the head of her cock push past your tight entrance, stretching you in a way you never thought possible. A gasp escaped from you as she continued to push deeper, and you felt every inch of her cock slide into you. It was both painful and exhilarating, the sensation overwhelming.

"Oh god, yes," you cried out, your voice shaking with emotion. "Fuck me, Agatha. Fuck me hard."

Agatha didn't need to be told twice. She began thrusting into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through your body. The slapping sounds of her hips hitting against your ass filled the car, punctuated by the occasional moan or gasp from either one of you.

Your hands reached back, gripping onto the seat belt clasps for support as Agatha pounded into you relentlessly. Her breaths came in short pants, her muscles tense with exertion. You could feel her heart pounding against your back, in sync with your own rapid heartbeat.

"This is what you want, huh?" you nodded, chanting her name like a sacred prayer. She growled, her grip tightening on your hips. "This is it, right? Getting fucked by an older woman’s cock, is that your kink?”

“Yes! Mommy,” you cried out, “yes, yesyesyes.”

Your body responded to her words, your pussy clenching around Agatha's cock with each thrust. The feeling was indescribable, and you knew that this was something you would never forget.

"Fuck, Agatha," you moaned, lifting your hips to meet each of her strokes. "I'm going to come so hard."

"Good," Agatha murmured, her voice thick with desire. "I want to feel it, baby. I want to feel you come apart.”

Her words sent you over the edge. The pleasure built up inside of you, rushing through your body like wildfire until finally, it exploded out of you in waves of bliss. You screamed out her name, your pussy clenching down on her cock as your orgasm washed over you.

Agatha groaned as she felt your pussy contract around her cock, the sensation pushing her closer to her own release. "Fuck, hon," she hissed, "I'm right there with you."

Her hips bucked harder, each thrust more messy than the last. You could feel the tension in her tight grip on your hips, her veins popping up on her neck and her arms as she neared her climax. The feeling was intoxicating, knowing that you were driving her to such heights of pleasure.

"Cum for me, Agatha," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "Cum inside me."

This was all it took. With a final, powerful thrust, Agatha cried out, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her cock jerked inside you, shooting pulse after pulse of hot cum deep into your pussy. It was intense, almost painful in its intensity, but so incredibly pleasurable. You wondered how many women have had Agatha cumming inside them like this, the thought made you feel a wave of jealousy right through your chest.

As Agatha's orgasm subsided, her breathing slowly returning to normal, she pulled out of you with a soft pop. You felt a warm, wet sensation between your legs as her cock slipped from you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting more.

Her eyes flicked down to her slick, cum-covered cock before returning to you with a wicked smirk playing on her lips. She scoffed, flipping your body effortlessly onto your back. Your eyes followed her movements, now lying on your back as you watched Agatha try to catch her breath.

"Tired already, detective?" you challenged playfully. Your feet shifted towards her thigh, feeling her up through the rough fabrics of her cargo pants before pressing your feet on her sensitive cock, teasingly giving her a foot job that caused Agatha to buck her hips and whimper in sudden pleasure. You were certain that you could make her cum again, or even drive her to overstimulation if she’d let you.

She stopped your movements with one firm grasp.

"Not enough, huh?" she asked, gazing at her own cum running down between your legs and looking back at you like she couldn’t believe you still wanted more. “Are you trying to get yourself knocked up or something?”

“Maybe,” you teased, giggling softly before grabbing her collar and pulling her into a kiss. “You’re incredible,” you whispered, your fingers slipping into her hair. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Agatha’s smirk widened as she cocked her head, her southern charm slipping effortlessly into her tone. “Well, sugar, ’course you haven’t,” she drawled, her voice dripping with a honeyed confidence that made your cheeks burn. “I’m exceptional.”

[tremordusk]

Agatha: Well wasn’t planning on having another kid..this should be fun…again

Lilia: Take it easy, you don’t have to—

Agatha: No no, I’m going to go through with this, in fact I am going to enjoy this

Lilia: Oh really?

Agatha: Indeed. *turns to Rio* my love?

Rio, chilling on the couch with her phone: Yes, mi amor?

Agatha: We are having a daughter.

Rio, wide eyed: *drops phone*

Lilia, whispering to Agatha: You don’t even know the gender yet—

Agatha, whispering to her: I know, it’s just fun to watch her struggle

Rio, hands in hair having a meltdown on the couch: I should have been more careful now I’m going to be a girl’s dad—

[timelessbian]

ok but no for real that episode was actually a masterpiece like jac schaeffer you did not have to go that hard but i am on my hands and knees thanking you for your work

[ennn]

Let's appreciate how complex Agatha's relationship with Billy is

GIF credit to @isagrimorie

The genuine emotion brimming from Agatha in this moment is very interesting and I really want to break down all the layers of how Agatha is relating to Billy—because it is truly not as simple as Agatha feeling sentimental or motherly to Billy.

There are a few layers at work here (and I also want to give a shout-out to @trickofthelights for her excellent recap points):

Billy reminds Agatha (enough) of herself

There are two driving forces at the core of Agatha as a character. We know this because her characterisation has been incredibly consistent throughout the show and Schaeffer has talked about them, which is: (a) Agatha is self-serving and (b) Agatha loves powerful witchcraft.

Billy is a powerful witch who did a horrifying thing in order to survive. He's been lying to these wonderful parents. He also just tried murdering three people in a fit of rage, provoked by Agatha no less.

Would Agatha care if he was less powerful? Would Agatha care if he didn't have a dark side? If he hadn't shown to be duplicitous and dangerous and subject to his darker impulses?

If he wasn't alone and without a coven, a possible outcast even among witches because of his unusual origins and power?

I'm pretty sure the answer is no, she would not. She would have dismissed him the same way she did his "Teen" persona. Agatha doesn't care about witches, Agatha cares about powerful witches –because that's who Agatha is and what drives her.

And we also got hints of this with Agatha and Wanda (hello consistent characterisation). In Schaeffer's words:

There is respect and almost affection inherent in [Agatha's interest in enormously powerful witchcraft], as indicated by how she felt about Wanda. She was mean to Wanda, but really she was fascinated by Wanda and admired her and wanted to hang out with her. 

And if this wasn't clear enough, what Agatha tells Billy shortly later about breaking the rules and being a true witch just screams projection (more on that in my next point).

I was delighted that Agatha really did bounce back from the attempted murder – but it's not because she's forgiving. Oh no, I think, Agatha was testing her theory by poking the bear (calculated move, bad at math) and she's glad she was proven right.

I mean, she not happy about the attempted murder but her curiosity wins out. You see her poking at Billy and trying to figure him out in the rest of this scene.

Agatha also hates self-righteous moralising and searches out for the darkness in people – delights in it even – because she knows people and she knows her own darkness.

Billy is different but also not so different from Agatha, as much as Billy or his mom would hate to admit.

Agatha is dealing with her childhood trauma

Yes, Agatha is projecting on Billy, but she makes a choice about it. We hear her telling him what she would have wanted someone to tell her: that they shouldn't be afraid or ashamed of who they are or what they did to survive, that they are part of a community.

Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. ... That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. That's what makes you a witch.

She's trying to be the person she needed when she was a child, because she simply doesn't want someone else – particularly a younger witch – going through what she did.

She doesn't want anyone to go through what her mother put her through. And that's a choice.

Because there are a number of ways a character can deal with trauma: they can lash out and bring others down, wanting others to experience to the pain they went through, or they can realise that what happened to them shouldn't happen to anyone else in their position.

There's something beautifully self-serving but also selfless in that, because this is a way for Agatha to heal from her trauma. She can tell Billy things she may not be able to tell herself.

And it's interesting because as a self-serving villain, Agatha could just be jealous of Billy's power. But in this moment at least, Agatha's empathy and compassion – as buried as they usually are – prevail.

And yes, Agatha was fond of kid Billy

This is what Schaeffer touched on in her interview answer and it makes sense, with the insight that Agatha – like any good actor – does invest a bit of herself in every role she plays.

Agatha does have feelings (as much as they might make her vomit) and I do believe she has a soft spot when it comes to kids, given her experience with her son and her own childhood trauma. And that kids don't have the level of hypocrisy and darkness that adults do.

It makes sense that Agatha would have some level of care about the Scarlet Witch's magical kid Billy. And that is a fondness that has carried onto teenage Billy – who is powerful and a survivor and has a potential for darkness in a way she can relate to.

There are layers and they intersect and it all ties back to how Agatha is incredibly complex and yet consistent as a character.

[violaobanion]

AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT 1x04 Four and Twenty Balckbirds

[poirott]

David Suchet on his moustache in AGATHA CHRISTIE'S POIROT tv show → Studio 10 interview, Aug 13 2019

"By the step leading up into the sleeping car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform, conversing with a small lean man, muffled up to the ears, of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward curled moustache. [...] Two men below her window were talking French. One was a French officer, the other was a little man with enormous moustaches. She smiled faintly. She had never seen anyone quite so heavily muffled up." - Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express

[itberice]

WandaVision 1.07 / Agatha All Along 1.02

[nobtities]

last art dump before i get into my academics again,, KNOW YOUR ROOTS EVERYONE BEFORE AGATAHARIO WE HAD WANDA AND AGATHA..... and yes i did color agathas hair purple instead of brown, fight me

[ali-mart]

Had to make these Julia Robert’s fits Agathario bc … well they’re hot fits