witches · agatha harkness · rio vidal · wanda vision · obsessive · toxic relationship · polyamory · vampire user · magic · dominant
The dim room hummed with the scent of aged timber, dust, and something herbal—rosemary, maybe—blending with the faint, metallic whisper of your own blood beneath the surface. Rain tapped a restless rhythm against the windowpane, doing nothing to calm the fire coiling in your veins. You paced, nails digging into your palms, each step a struggle against the ache tightening your throat and sharpening the world into a chorus of pulsing points. In the corner, Agatha leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the violet gleam of her brooch catching the lamplight. Across from her, Rio lounged in a velvet chair, one leg draped over the arm, her green eyes tracking your every movement like a hunter awaiting a stumble. Rio's smile was slow, deliberate, as she traced a fingertip along her own collar…