#feeding on the collective fears

[calypso2511]

Okay, on my QSMP!Philza Hunt Avatar headcannon (specifically in purgatory):

Phil only notices it once he has a moment to properly think but he realizes that he feels stronger now, faster and can think clearer and at first he assumes it might be because he might be dead but then he comes to a realization:

He is feeding

That place, all the fear and paranoia, all the hunting and hunted people, their fear feeds him, makes him stronger.

He is, of course disgusted by this, that whole place disgusts him. But he decides that he will use this to find a way out, to get stronger and at the end overthrow the evil Eye that rules this place.

[citysuk]

a baby?! | logan howlett

pairing: xmen!logan howlett x pregnant!reader

summary: some headcanons of logan with a pregnant partner.

notes: logan is so husband (not actually married) material 😭😭😭 i needed to write this for my man.

warnings: pregnancy kajsksa (it scares me to death), so much fluffy fluff. no proofread. no use of y/n but no oc neither.

Logan's protective nature would go into overdrive when you are pregnant. He'd be extra vigilant, watching your every move and refusing to let you out of his sight. "You ain't goin' nowhere, darlin'," he'd growl.

Logan would be constantly fussing over you, making sure you're eating right and taking care of yourself. He'd become a regular at the grocery store, stocking up on the necessary supplies for your pregnancy. "Can't have my baby going hungry," he'd say, tossing another loaf of bread into the cart.

Logan would be a pro at soothing you through the uncomfortable parts of pregnancy. He'd rub your back when you had cramps, hold your hair when you were sick, and provide as much comfort as he could. "It's gonna be okay," he'd murmur. "Just a few more months."

Logan would be eager to feel the baby kick and move inside your belly. He would place his hand on your stomach, feeling every little movement, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey there, little one," he'd whisper.

Logan would take you for late night walks in the gardens, his arm protectively around your waist, your steps slow and measured. He'd breathe in the night air, a rare peacefulness settling over him. "Can't wait to meet our kid," he'd say quietly, squeezing your hand.

Logan might be a bit nervous about being a father, but he would never let it show. He'd put on a brave front, masking his fears with his usual gruff exterior, but would secretly be reading every parenting book he can find.

As the due date got closer, Logan would become increasingly anxious. He'd be extra cautious, carrying you up and down the stairs and insisting that you rest as much as possible. "Can't have anything happen to you or the baby," he'd say, his eyes filled with worry.

Despite his tough exterior, Logan would be secretly excited about decorating the nursery. He'd take you to every baby shop in town, helping you pick out the perfect crib and the perfect color for the walls (he's the one putting everything together).

When the baby is finally born, Logan would be there, holding your hand, coaching you through the delivery. He'd whisper words of encouragement, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall. "You're doing great, darlin'."

As soon as he lays eyes on his child, Logan's heart would instantly fill with love. He'd be torn between staring at the baby and checking on you, a range of emotions playing on his face.

Logan would be the ultimate doting father. He'd change diapers, give baths, and rock the baby to sleep. He'd sing lullabies and tell bedtime stories, his voice gruff but his words soft.

Logan would have a love/hate relationship with the baby's first word. When they said "Dada" for the first time, he'd puff up with pride, but then be secretly disappointed that it wasn't "Mama."

He would have a collection of silly nicknames for the baby, ranging from "Cub" to "Little One". He'd sometimes slip into Wolven mode and playfully growl at the baby, making them giggle.

Logan would be incredibly overprotective of the baby. Anytime someone tried to hold them, he'd hesitate and watch hawkishly. He wouldn't let anyone but his partner and the X-Men near the child, always on high alert for any potential threat. "Ain't nobody touchin' my kid, bub," he'd growl, eyes narrowed.

Logan would be the one to handle the late-night feedings and soothe the baby back to sleep. "Can't let your mama get too exhausted," he'd mutter as he rocked the baby in his arms.

Logan would be careful when the baby started walking and crawling, especially around the danger-prone X- Mansion. He'd constantly be on edge every time the baby would try to grab something sharp or crawl towards a dangerous area. "Watch yourself there, squirt," he'd say, scooping them up before they could get into trouble.

Logan would also be a very hands-on father. He'd want to teach the child everything he knows, from fighting to the wilderness. He'd take them camping and teach them how to survive in the wild. "Gotta be tough like your old man," he'd say.

Even though Logan would claim he wasn't the type to get attached to kids (LIAR), he'd secretly have a soft spot for the one you had created together.

[notglue-9]

About My AU

This is about how 8 souls in Minecraft afterlife,try to live in peace and harmony.

Random facts about world/lore:

• You can’t stay at night for long as your own nightmares and fears will begin to haunt you.

• Catnap has had corruption three times. And each time it gets worse and more painful.

• on a full moon in Cartoon world, Catnap will turn into that same creepy version of himself from his past life.

• Bobby: mother/big sister figure

Bubba: Big bro/Father figure

Kickin: best Bro/best friend

Hoppy: best sister/best friend

Crafty: comfort shy bestie

Picky: the same kind aunt who will feed and take care of you/sibling figure

• Catnap lives with Bobby or Bubba.

The guys built houses for each other while they were in the afterlife. And they built a House for Dogday in advance.

• It hurts Catnap to show other emotions with his mouth, so he always smiles. But in the animation "Overnight" he was so upset that he didn't care about the pain and to show his sadness to Dogday he erased his smile

About Medallions

medallions are their souls.

Catnap collects the negative emotions of other critters. This makes his medallion increase. Although he helps others, it’s worse for him if he collects a lot of negativity within himself. He's in pain and reaaally Sick.💀

Each critter has their own cracks in their medallions. They show their emotional state.

Why is Catnap's medallion different?

it’s just that Catnap is punished for what he did in a past life. He pays back by helping and providing therapy to others there will be a rollback from negativity only if someone helps him. But no one will help him yet. The worse the Catnap medallion stage, the more his voice disappears, his beautiful lullaby voice becomes either mute or creepy.

The reason why Catnap is still cursed with this "therapy" ability. He feels guilty for all his mistakes. And it haunts him. His guilt hits harder than other negative emotions of smiling critters.

Sometimes a big red cloud hangs over him in the shape of his past life. And until he forgives himself and does not help others. He will be forever cursed and suffer

Cracked or Cursed Medallions symptoms

When Catnap is too overwhelmed with negativity. He coughs up Red Smoke.

But it doesn’t affect the others in any way. Although other critters are scared by this smoke. Especially Dogday.

Broken medallions.

These are souls that have not found peace, traumatized, broken. They feel bad mentally.

About ARCS.

Arc 0. - Catnap's Therapy. Pilot lmao

Arc 1. - Eclipse, nightmares and dreams,"I'm sorry"

Arc 2.- Corruption,Hey Dogday,,the groundhog Day,comics about other Critters

Arc 3- (Red crescent arc) - Your face,Camping, Theatre, others in future

Arc 4.- After prank, overnight,Moon's everyday Life.

Arc 1- Everyone hates Catnap. They shun him. Beat him,kick him. Bobby was the first to befriend him.

Arc. 2.Catnap helps them cope with their traumas that have begun to appear and interfere with their lives.

Arc 3.They are all more or less well. Some notice Catnap's strange behavior. Dogday has a hard time accepting Catnap. He already wanted to more or less make the relationship better. But the Red Moon appeared.

Their voices ,Their speaking style

Dogday: The deep voice of a veteran who went through a 100-year war. But sometimes it changes to squeaky if it experiences strong emotions. He remained expressive, but his face is always angry as if it would bite you.

Catnap: Actually he was mute. But he was given a voice in the afterlife. He still can't get used to it. His voice is very gentle, cold and pleasant to the ear, like the Cradle. His voice is also designed for singing.

Bobby: Calming tone, tactile when communicating. Sometimes she makes beautiful speeches. And very chatty. Loves to gossip.

Bubba: Monotonous and calculating Voice. He speaks briefly and clearly. And doesn't gesture at all and he is very passive.

Kickin: He deliberately makes his voice tone rougher to seem cool. He comes up with different slangs and often makes funny gestures. But when he's scared, his voice becomes very squeaky and he chirps like a Chicken.

Hoppy: She has a loud and confident voice, like a fitness club trainer. She will never tire of shouting motivational words at you. She often jumps and runs around you. She doesn't sit still while she chats with you.

Crafty: A gentle and sweet voice, like a princess. She is often distracted and has Daydreaming Syndrome.

Loves fairy tales and everything that is not from reality. She can debate her point of view about creativity

Picky: She has a very fun and playful voice. But sometimes you don’t understand whether she’s happy or ready to roast you in a fire.

A truly charming farmer and chef. Loves the Western theme.

[feathered-serpents]

Lmao my TikTok was too long to upload here so I’m just gonna retype it all out

Chester and Norris: Are they really Jon and Martin?

Wrong question imo! The BETTER question is: How MUCH of Jon and Martin are Chester and Norris?

The fact is these programs have SOME link to Jon and Martin, Jonny and Alex would not be voicing them otherwise, so what it comes down to is how much of a link?

Because it could be that it’s ONLY their voices. Annabelle explained to Jon that the tapes belonged to the Web, and that by “taking his voice” Jon was therefore bound to the Web and the other fears by extension. It’s entirely possible that when the Fears left Archives’ universe, they brought Jon (and Martin as he was also on the tapes) voices over with them, but JUST the voices. Nothing else. It’s just a coat of paint over the entities methods of collection, Chester and Norris aren’t Jon and Martin anymore than glasses are the person wearing them

But I’m not sure that’s the case. There’s a lot of holes there. The main one being: why? If it is just hollow voices, then why? What’s the purpose of the fears using them? It’s only been two episodes, so it might be answered later, but let’s talk about the second possibility

Chester and Norris ARE Jon and Martin, they just aren’t aware. When Martin “cut the tether” in episode 200, he didn’t cut the Fears away from Jon, he cut the Fears away from the world and at that point, as the Pupil of the Eye, Jon was part of the fears. Since Martin was in the panopticon when they went, he went too.

And now we have a disembodied Jon and Martin existing in a dazed but still hungry state. They seek out whatever’s familiar and since there’s no Magnus Institute, they go to the OIAR, get into their system, and read out any “real” statements they can find. Feeding off of them.

In this possibility, Jon and Martin are effectively asleep. They aren’t aware of what they’re doing really, just going by their new instincts/nature. But I think the more they feed, the more conscious they’ll become, and we’ll start to Chester and Norris break script. Stutter over a word. Add words. Things that a text to speech program simply CAN’T do even if glitched to shit

What complicates this possibility is the fact that Alice said they only showed up a year ago when it’s implied the OIAR has existed much longer than that as well as the fears in this world. It could be they move from place to place feeding off what they can, and when that’s bled dry, they move somewhere else? If they’re as intertwined with the fears as this theory implies, they could exist across infinite universes, staying alive like this

I’m not sure! It’s super interesting tho. I think the saddest ending would be if it’s never really answered, and Jon becomes, at least in some ways, a mystery

[pellucid-constellations]

Hello, absolutely love your writing - Drabble

Something based on time traveler’s husband, but the reader is the time traveler and she can end up in bad places or beautiful places (you choose), Azriel all worried maybe, fluff and angst?

Sounds kinda long for a drabble, i don’t know haha 🤍

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst, references to trauma

a/n: Hi! :) I made this sooooo angsty lol oopsie

Masterlist♡

____________________________________________

Never in Azriel’s life did he think it would come to this. 

He held you against his chest as sobs wracked your body, your fingers gripping his leathers with so much force he was surprised the material didn’t rip.

It had been a long one this time. 

Three weeks ago, you were sitting with him on a bench by the Sidra, a small bag of feed in your lap as you spread it out for the animals along the water. He had looked away, only for a moment, but when he turned back the feed was emptying on the ground and your body was gone—lost to a time and place he would not know of until you returned. 

Only, you did not return as you usually did. 

Most of the time, you were gone for a few hours, days at most. Azriel would spend the entire unspecified allotment with a pit in his chest and an inability to swallow, too inundated by preemptive grief and fear that eating and drinking and breathing felt impossible. But slowly, after being mated for some years, the time became more expected, more manageable. You would return exhausted but safe, and Azriel would give you a day before expecting a story. 

But this time, this time, you appeared before him as you always did—your home base, you had called him—and you collapsed into a heap of tears and gasped sobs.

Azriel had tried to parse out what was wrong. He had started with words—simple, easy-to-understand questions, but when it became clear that you weren’t even aware that he was speaking, he moved to touch. He pressed his hands along your back and hair, trailed his lips across your cheeks and dried the dampness there with his fingers. He held you, gods did he hold you, because you were in front of him and alive and every day felt as if that truth would be ripped from him. 

But you still cried. 

You cried to the point that Azriel was sure your head ached. 

“What about Rhysand?” Azirel stressed, eventually resorting to anything else that could help you. “Cassian? Mor? Who would help, angel?” 

Your cries mellowed some, but they were still awful, painful hiccuping breaths that tore a hole in Azriel’s heart. He collected your face in his hands and held you there, a panic in his gaze as he stared at your swollen eyes—at the redness that he had missed when you first fell into his arms. It looked inflicted and unnatural on your face. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Where did you go, my love? Tell me.” 

You turned in his grip, eyes brushing over his fingers as they rubbed soothing lines into your face, and then you cried harder. 

It was all Azriel could do to hold you against him. 

When another sound started to leave your lips, Azriel strained his ears to catch it. Over and over. A repetitive loop that he could not make sense of. He leaned you away from his chest and the words became clear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Azriel. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” 

“My darling, what?” he begged, shaking his head along with his words. “My love, darling, please. What could you possibly be sorry for? Where did you go?”

You took in a harrowing, shaking breath. “It took me there. To that time.” 

It, you always called it, because you never got to choose what point in time you went to. Something else dragged you along at its whim, and that was why the act always filled Azriel with so much dread. He had feared this—whatever you had seen to render you so inconsolable. 

“To where?” he all but whispered, afraid that you would lose yourself again. 

“Your hands, Azriel. For weeks I watched—” Azriel stared back in horror as you clutched at the material of your shirt as if it burned. “I watched and I—I couldn’t do anything. You were so small and I screamed and fought but there was nothing I could do.” 

Something in Azriel fractured that he never thought would heal. 

Before him, his mate grieved a past he hoped would never fully be revealed. You lived through it and were made to watch, whatever power that sent you away cruel and vicious and unrighteous. A lick of anger flamed through him, but something stopped him from feeling it fully. 

“No,” you breathed out, staring down at your arms. “No, Azriel, I can’t go. I can’t—not right now.” 

Your fingers and hands and arms slowly morphed into a hazy glare, and Azriel stared down at them with as much desperation as you did. He reached for you, but his touch went through your limbs and he had to catch himself on the floor beside you. 

There was nothing he could do—absolutely nothing. He and Rhysand had enlisted the help of the Day Court not too long ago, and the entire curse-breaking legion hadn’t found a way to keep you from this fate. 

So, Azriel knew what came next.

He knew that this broken rendition of his mate was fading and he didn’t have the time to pick up the pieces. 

His breath came out in fast puffs as he gathered you into his arms and spoke low by your ear. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to be right here when you get back. I’ll wait right here and you’ll be back so soon, okay?” 

You nodded against his shoulder, but Azriel felt the tension in your body as you went to speak. “Okay, yes. You’ll be here.” 

“I’ll be right here, my love. I’m safe here. You’re safe and you’ll come home. I love you. So much. 

“I love you—” 

Azriel’s arms dropped.

You were gone.

[kedreeva]

For the past 2 days I have been back and forth with a person that runs a rooster sanctuary, after they posted an infographic about how hatcheries deal with male chicks that was WILDLY inaccurate and incendiary and CLEARLY made by an ARA group. I've had to explain that when you see "asphyxiation" as a euthanization method, it means "they used CO2" not throwing LIVE chicks into dumpsters out back by the thousands to suffocate to death (which is what ARAs love to say every US farm is doing), and that when you see language like "their brothers" this is VERY SPECIFIC propaganda from ARA groups attempting to anthropomorphize animals in your mind. It's 100% meant to invoke the idea of the human bonds often formed between siblings, the familial bonds chickens do not have any concept of.

The conversation ended shortly after I said more than 1 in a million males is needed for breeding purposes (another claim made), and I'm like 99% sure they aren't pulled from the sale stock anyway, they're selected at the breeding facility, and they responded with that actually only one male is needed for every million hens because, and I quote: "The eggs and sperm are collected in a common trough that feeds into a bucket. Water is added to the eggs and sperm to induce fertilization. The excess sperm, ovarian fluid, and blood are rinsed away. The fertilized eggs are gently poured into an incubator tray."

and I had to inform them that they were copy pasting from a first search result on google, and that it was from a SALMON FISHERY.

Anyway. ARAs continue to be fear-mongering fools who will say anything with little to no research if it means they can get a knee-jerk reaction from someone that doesn't know better.

[bunicate]

rambling abt diluc’s relationship with his sister from the maid, adelinde’s pov ♡ im pretti sure dis was an ask I received on my old blog too ! !

adelinde didn’t have much expected of her besides her daily cleanings and the occasional rotation of taking out the trash, but recently she’s been burdened with the task of looking after you.

you’re a troublesome girl to tend to.

she would never say it out loud or let her feelings show, but master diluc had you spoiled rotten. you were the only one allowed to disturb him in his study and demand the most menial things for the sake of his attention. 

you're often half-naked and oversleeping when you weren't bothering him.

she frequently dresses you, and brushes your hair so you could look presentable in front of your brother, and you would insist on only the shortest dresses and skirts. or flat out refuse to have your blouse buttoned all the way. she wouldn’t dare to speak out of turn, but your bosom was nearly visible at all times. 

she doesn’t acknowledge her master's subtle glances towards the swell of your chest, or his hand that rests too closely to your bottom.

you both were closer than most siblings. that she knows, the other maids all witnessed it but wouldn’t speak of it lest their master would catch them.

it was an enjoyable job, and it would be a shame to lose it because diluc caught their loose lips flapping away.

adelinde was quick to regard the interactions as siblings who simply cherished each other.

although you’re a handful, you’re also sweet and thoughtful, and she could see why diluc treated you as such. she often helps you clean up your messes from making strawberry tarts, and other little gifts that you give diluc. by the end of the day, you’d be exhausted, and each time she’d lay a blanket over your slumbering body when you waited up late for diluc.

she’d watch you until she’s interrupted by her master's arrival. 

“thank you, adelinde. you may go for the night. i’ll take care of her from here,” he’d say.

like routine, she’d bow.

“well then. goodnight master diluc.”

she would watch him slowly collect your body within his grasp, gentle enough not to disturb you from slumber. 

he’d pull back the hair that obstructs your face and adelinde could never forget the look of utter tenderness that seeped into his visage.

a certain kind of love unbinds the furrow of his brow and eases the tension in his broad shoulders. his figure would then disappear into your room, and that would be the last she saw of you both for the night. 

the next day when adelinde knocks on your door to come in, and you’re already awake.

your pajamas are revealing as always. a skimpy underwear and a strapless cotton top. your hair covers it, but she makes out the bruise on your neck, and she ignores it.

she tries not to appear uncomfortable when you walk downstairs in the same attire and diluc don't even seem phased. he just puts you on the kitchen counter, feeding you blueberries for breakfast.

touches and the palatable air isn’t enough to jump to conclusions, but she supposes she no longer had a choice anymore when she mistakenly walks into the living room and witnesses such a sweltering kiss.

her master trails his hands on the cheeks of your butt, groping the flesh while he buried his tongue in your mouth. 

adelinde is stunned at the sight. her master was kissing his little sister. 

a sensation she’s unfamiliar with runs down her body. his tongue is so much larger than yours, wrapping around your smaller one, swallowing your breathy cries. his hands cup your face, and it’s then she realizes how large those gloved fingers really are.

carefully, she watches them trail downwards, slipping into his pants to pull out his thickening and leaky member. 

adelinde , felt fear and a tinge of arousal.

he was going to insert his cock between your folds. your pretty silken folds, that sweltered with lust. his dick was hard and angry, and your body looked too perfect — too delicate to be touched.

adelinde licked her lips as diluc entered inside of you. your back arches and your tits jiggle from the comedown of his hips. he fucks into you at a rapid pace, and the sound of wetness on his cock destabilizes the maid's ability to react appropriately.

the moistness is audible between the slaps of skin and the loud cries.

the sheets darken with sweat and cum. your skin is bitten and then kissed, and your moans reverberate in the same room.

the air is hot and sticky and adelinde feels a knot in her belly. she quickly darts out into the corridor and begins to dread the following day. anxiety pricks at her skin at the fear of facing you both once more.

she knows that she’ll have to clean you up in the morning and face the dark truth about her master and his younger sister.

[cindol]

Hm.. masc!mikasa and her pink gf.

Mikasa Ackerman x black fem reader

tagging: @liuhko @hoesluvshanti

tw: modern au, written in the hc format, fluff, small suggestive-ness, y/n is a lil dumb,

a/n: I’ve had this in my drafts since May yall …. 😭 I just re-wrote it up a bit . srry if it’s a bit short !!

masc!mikasa who’s a total babe magnet to pink fem girls a lot. Her roster and ex’s are mostly just feminine pinky pink girls so it’s a surprise to nobody when she shows her new girlfriend y/n off to her friend group.

masc!mikasa was the yin to her pink hello kitty girlfriend’s yang, they were polar opposites but definitely worked. Y/n could handle mikasa’s calm and collected attitude always speaking for her sometimes at restaurants while mikasa could handle y/n’s excited extrovert personality, knowing just the right way to calm her down and listen to her.

Mikasa loved whenever y/n would coming running to show her new hello kitty charmed nails while mikasa sat on their couch with her legs spread. She gave a warm smile just touching the one hand looking at the new nails and kissing her hand saying a simple,”love them baby.” Her small compliments had a way of just making y/n melt, no matter how small.

Another way she could calm y/n down also is just listening to her and her rants. When y/n was pent up and just angry she’d listen and give her small opinions on it.

masc!mikasa matched y/n’s style perfectly also, she was the masc to y/n’s fem style. While mikasa wore nike socks and slides, tank tops with shorts and her hair tied up occasionally y/n always was wearing some pink mini skirt, a pink cami top or anything hello kitty inspired to match.

masc!mikasa loved to feed into her girlfriends pda especially with the funny cute TikTok’s she’d do with her. Letting y/n give her pink lipstick kisses all on her face and neck while she had her legs spread then the camera turning to y/n with a lipstick tube in her hand applying more lipstick.

masc!mikasa never makes y/n feel that she’s too clingy, even when she comes to mikasa asking. Mikasa just scoffs at what she says.”bullshit, don’t know what idiot made you feel like that but you’re never clingy. You’re just a lover girl baby.” That warms y/n’s heart.

masc!mikasa gets protective when she has y/n around certain men. She knows how some men can be perverted weirdos, especially when it came to sapphic women. She always made sure to watch them when they tried taking a peak under her skirt.

masc!mikasa likes teaching her girl self defense. Mikasa was proud in her ability to protect y/n but what would happen if she was never around? She feared for when y/n got in the hospital somehow or mugged so she was teaching her self defense.

“Cmon baby be serious, what if I was some burglar trying to mug you?” It just made y/n giggle at her girlfriend with a cheap mask on trying to steal the small purse she was holding.”if you were some burglar trying to mug me in a alleyway I’d just kiss ya to let me go baby!” She joked making mikasa just give into her antics and tackle her.

if y/n and masc!mikasa had an argument it wouldn’t last long. Y/n’s a huge crybaby, if mikasa even had a slightly mad tone she would get sad. Mikasa may not show it but she was exactly the same, as soon as y/n seemed hurt by her actions she was immediately trying to cheer her up or show how sorry she is.

masc!mikasa is the one who made y/n realize how toxic her family is in the first place and actually drop them. When y/n vented to her about her mother’s homophobia mikasa just had a sympathetic look.”you don’t deserve that baby, nobody deserves that.” She rubbed a hand on her arm to comfort her more.”if anything, my family will always be here when yours can’t. Levi always considers you family anyways”

[nouearth]

Imagine getting used as a walking fleshlight by Bruce (Bale) and Clark (Corenswet) at the same time. Both high five'ing each other with dark lust filled eyes while Eiffel tower'ing you. Bruce's cock fulls your mouth so well, he then rubs his cock all over your face. Clark's thrusts are the strongest you've ever experienced, his balls slap against you as if they were a force of nature; you're holding onto ass and pulling him deeper inside you while Bruce rams into your throat like it's a fleshlight.

💌 : ugh, anon. my main men! (although i love pattinson just as much, bale just screams... daddy for me.) also, i—for some reason—love it when guys are showcasing douchey behavior when they're fucking, urgh.

for bruce, his cock had never felt so full and warm down your throat before. you could barely take him, but he was constantly peppering you in toe-curling praises so you tried your best to sheathe more of him inside of your mouth because you didn't want to disappoint him, or even clark for that matter.

the thick of his cock pushed all the saliva out of your mouth, drool dripping from either corners of your stretched lips, and as much as bruce loved seeing how much of a mess you'd become, reducing your identity to merely a flesh-light, he would pull his cock out and slide it over your lips to feed the saliva you'd dribbled back into your cock-addicted mouth.

you'd lap him up like you were a fiend for his cock, and bruce recognized that, exploiting your addiction when he'd pull himself out at times to hear you whine—to see your eyes widen with a plea that would drive him mad because they became so glossy. your brows etched with worry and agony as it seemed like he was stripping you away from a necessity to living.

the simple thought that you lived and breathed for his cock turned him on, fed his ego, and then fed yours because only you could make him feel so good like this. he would rub his cock all over your face, slap it across your cheek and nose occasionally, before jerking himself off to the scene of clark fucking you, his balls heavily rolling over your pretty features in midst. he'd then hold your cheeks, rough hands at the underside of your jaw, before he began fucking gloriously into your mouth because he was close. so fucking close.

for clark, the sounds of your gagging and gargling was enough to send him over the edge. with his heightened senses, he could hear every intricate noise that you'd deliciously graced him with; the small gasps you would inhale to recover your breath, only for you to gag and cough on them when bruce shoved his cock back inside of your mouth; the sloppy and wet squelches from the lube dripping from your hole as clark fucked his large cock madly into you; the nasal pitch of the bed creaking, a noisy proof of the men's absolute destruction on your body as they intend to break you.

sex with you was an exception to clark's habitual gentlemanly spirit as you drove him mad, teased him for being a goody two-shoes, for being too vanilla for your liking, and he wanted to prove you wrong. he wanted to prove to you that he could be both sides of the same coin, and if he went far enough, you'd beg for him to be easier on you next time.

he would pull your arms back and hold your two wrists together in one strong grip, allowing the position to contort your body in a way that emphasized the shape of your body. you felt your muscles flex, throb apprehensively because they've never been stretched like this before—stretched past their limits. and clark would maintain this position because he was addicted to seeing how the sweat collected at the dips of your back muscles, then rolled off the hill of your ass when your body struggled uncomfortably to meet his cock.

he was too big for you, much bigger than you'd taken before, and clark would make you remember that. he would instill a sense of fear within you—that you might completely break if he were to completely shove his large cock inside of you if he wasn't kind enough to control himself—restrain himself from filling you to the brim.

and he would also instill a craving within you—one that you'd find yourself thinking about his cock for hours, days, months—because you'll never find someone with a cock, a fuck like him. ramming into you hard yet steady, powerfully yet pacing, large and uncomfortable yet deliciously enthralling as clark would make every stretch soar to your senses, soar to make your throat hollow and dry—at least for the moment before bruce was shoving himself back inside of you. they'd chuckle, sometimes laugh not because you were embarrassing, but because you were so impressive to them that they didn't know how else to react other than with affection and laughter. they'd coo at you, pet at your head, tell you what a good boy you were, and fist bump whenever you deep-throated bruce and/or pushed yourself back into clark until he was balls-deep, until he pressed into a golden spot.

and they'd continue with you for hours, fucking you repeatedly, taking their turns with your mouth and ass, sometimes two cocks in one, and you'd never felt happier than being fucked in this moment. elated when bruce filled your mouth with his own cum; warm and creamy as it sat and spread thick on your tongue—your throat as you swallowed like the good boy you were. then full, when clark came into your ass. he held you close, pressing close to you until you were practically glued to him, and his balls jolted, twitched, and throbbed as he dumped his load in you. you can feel clark's cum seeping deeper into when he doesn't stop fucking into your hole, churning his cum into you until you memorized the shape of his cock, the way his cum spread thick inside of you. then finally leaking when he pulled out to see you push out his thick cum loads on instinct.

hehe, thank you for the imagine, anon! 💗 and now, i'm gonna pretend as if i didn't write all of that and create the illusion that i, in fact, am an innocent man.

[inkdrinkerworld]

“Sirius please come see, I won’t put them in your hands. I promise.” Your sunglasses are keeping your hair out of your face as you hold pretty multicoloured shells in your hand.

“I’m coming poppet. I got you a freezie so you don’t pass out.” His footsteps trail behind him in the soft, cool sand - perfect combatant to the heat that has sweat pearling against his chest.

It’s a hot day out at the beach, barely any clouds to shield you from the sun. You’d made Sirius reapply your sunscreen three times already and reapplied his twice as much even though he hated the smell of it.

Sirius holds the straw to your lips, watching you take a large gulp.

“What do you have there, lovie?” He spots something wriggling in your palm, a little grossed out but putting on a brave face.

“Donax clams,” you use one of your hands to drip a little water over the clams so Sirius can see them open. “Look, the meat inside is edible too. Don’t you think this one kinda looks like your eyes?”

Sirius suppresses a shudder. He doesn’t know how you’re so calm about them wiggling in your palm. He also doesn’t really think they look like his eyes, a little too much green for his cool, almost purple silver eyes- still he hums.

“Are you going to catch them and cook them at the house?” Sirius is fearful of your answer, maybe you want to make him try this strange looking meat.

“No! I put them back when I run out of water,” you wait for the tide to come in a little and place your hand in the water, watching the shell wiggle out of your hand and into the sand. “See?”

Sirius smiles, kissing your cheek.

“I see, poppet.”

He wipes sand from your forehead and collarbone, feeding you more sips of the watermelon freezie as you catch and release your clams.

Sirius listens to you whisper to them, ask them how deep the burrow and even ask them if they know where you can find bigger shells to add to your collection.

He suspects it’s a little strange, but he doesn’t think it is. He quite likes that you’re so eccentric about everything. Sirius cups a bit of water and lets it run down your back, smiling when you sigh.

“Wanna go under the shade? I could get you a cold coconut?” Sirius can see the tan lines coming in under your bathing suit- you’d been in the sun for most of the time you’d been here and he worried you might get heat exhaustion.

Your eyes brighten. Sirius might not be a master at knowing all the little creatures, but he is a master at you. “With the super soft jelly inside?”

“Only the best for my girl,” he kisses your lips, watermelon freezie all he can taste. “C’mon poppet, wash up.”

[randomshyperson]

Heal - Scarlet!Wanda x Vampire!Reader - Kinktober #08

Summary: By freeing an imprisoned immortal from the Darkhold Castle, the Scarlet Witch did not expect to gain a friend who would help her heal the woman she tried to bury in the temple's wreckage. In return, Wanda might help you face the demons from your past that were locked away with you.

Warnings: (+18), service!top reader, praising, intimate smut, blood-feeding, vampire and witchcraft lore, and a lot of plot, implied depression and self-harming tendencies, really soft smut with explicit consent, mutual pining, friends to lovers | Words: 9.671k

A/N-> My only vampire reference is TVD, so expect many similarities to the show’s lore. And I repeat again that there is a sinful lack of stories that deal with the status of wizarding royalty of which Wanda is part. Please, she literally has the title of Queen of Chaos, her family has inherited the magic of chaos for generations, we need to talk about this. I hope you guys like this one, this story ended up having more depth than I expected and it was quite fun to write it.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

After destroying a thousand-year-old castle and not getting out of the impact zone, Wanda definitely didn't expect comfort. In addition to the pain of recent events, from realizing that she had finally become a villain, and was closer to the people who had destroyed her life than to the friends she once lost, she also had to see the clear fear in the alternative versions of the children she missed. So she put an end to it all, more tired than anything, and waited for the pain to go away. The blackout from the impact put an end to it, of course, and just like years before when she turned to dust after losing the only person she still had left, she breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness.

But Wanda woke up. And to her complete surprise, comfort came in the softest sheets she had ever felt, perhaps even more comforting than the expensive cloth Tony Stark had once bought for the rooms in Avengers Tower. The bed she was lying on could easily have been mistaken for royalty, and Wanda barely had time to become alert before a slightly unfamiliar face entered her field of vision.

"You." She gasped in surprise, her voice a little hoarse. Now conscious, she was aware of the pain around her body, but she could also feel her magic doing the hard work and taking the sensation away. You smiled gently and, without leaving your sitting position on her bed, waited for her to adjust to the mattress. Wanda frowned. "But why?"

You sighed, shrugging slightly. Now sitting up, Wanda realized that your lap wasn't empty. A breakfast tray was waiting for her as if you were aware that she would wake up soon and had brought the food just in time. The item was leisurely placed next to her, but Wanda continued to look at you, waiting for an explanation as to why someone who had disappeared almost the second after the first meet, reappeared to save her from the wreckage of her mistakes.

"I know you're confused, but please eat. You've slept for days, miss." It's your comment, but the witch shakes her head.

"Don't worry about it. It's... nowhere near the longest I've gone without food." The quiet confession about the period of darkhold abuse makes you sigh sadly, and Wanda feels a curiosity rise in her chest. You don't know her, so why do you care? 

Your hands move to the toast you've prepared for her, and Wanda bites the inside of her cheek as she finally notices the tray with your movements. Your breakfast choices are just right - delicious foods stare back at her. And you busy yourself with adding some jam to the toast that makes Wanda's mouth water.

"Forgive me for taking so long to find you, I was a bit overwhelmed upon returning after so long." You then declare, handing back the now-filled toast to one of the smaller plates. You push the item towards her as an invitation, but Wanda glares at you.

"Why did you bother coming back?"

Your eyes are kind in her direction. "I owe you my freedom."

Wanda chuckles short and incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, I didn't even know what I was doing." She retorts immediately. "I saved you by accident, you don't owe me anything."

But you gesture to the food, and Wanda sighs in defeat, finally giving in. At the first bite, she feels the delicious jam on her tongue and sighs in satisfaction. It's amazing, she lets you know. You smile.

"It doesn't matter if our meeting was accidental, Wanda Maximoff." You state. "Your magic broke me out of my prison. If the idea of a debt doesn't please you, we can act as if upon rescuing you, I made us even."

Wanda hums with her mouth full, slightly distracted by the food. You look away, waiting for a moment, and she finishes chewing before speaking again.

"I didn't want to be rescued."

"I know."

She looks at you again, but you continue to stare straight ahead into the room. "Do you?"

You smile briefly. "Nobody who wants to live knocks down a castle on their head, miss."

The chuckle that escapes her is short, but it's the first sincere one in a long time. It's so dark, to joke about something so serious, yet she feels completely at ease doing it with you.

Wanda finishes another piece of toast before speaking again. "Do you remember the sorcerer who was with me before, when I freed you?" You meet her gaze, nodding in agreement. Wanda looks at you curiously. "He nearly shit his pants when he saw you running away from the temple. He tried to lecture me about it, and I dragged him out of there for it. But the point is... what did you do? He only told me your name. What was so terrible that your escape scared him so much?"

You sigh, getting up. Wanda imagines that she has offended you by asking and that you will leave without telling her the whole truth, and considers spying on your mind to find that out, but you just walk to the nearest drawers on the other side of the bedroom. When you return with an object in hand, Wanda wipes away the toast crumbs before accepting the item you hand her.

The old photograph makes her eyes widen. "Holy shit." She sighs impressed, getting a short laugh out of you.  Your picture wasn't a surprise, but the date from over three hundred years ago faded by the bottom. Wanda flipped the item to see the back, but your name there didn’t really explain how you were standing in front of her, as if no time had passed.

"Humans call us Vampires, but I've always liked the sound of Immortal better. Of course, the term vampire beats being called a demon or a bloodsucker." Wanda doesn't laugh at the joke, as she raises wide eyes in surprise at you. She continues to hold up the photograph, and you swallow. "I promise I won't try to harm you." Finally, she chuckles softly. You sigh in reassurance, even though the witch has just mocked your strength.

"I can't believe vampires exist." 

"Said the witch who traveled through the multiverse a few days ago." Wanda smiles, handing the photograph back to you. 

"Fair point." She murmurs. Restless, you wonder what you can do to improve her mood. She seems so sad.

Perhaps your stories could distract her. 

"I was imprisoned in Darkhold Castle a few centuries ago." You tell her, attracting her curiosity again. Your hands go into your pockets so that you can regain some ground over the full attention of such beautiful and mesmerizing irises. "There are other mystical authorities, apart from Kamar-Taj and its mages. In particular, a council of vampires. I disagreed with some traditions and was sentenced to imprisonment, but my capture was not quiet. Let's just say I earned that tomb you rescued me from, Miss." Wanda nodded in understanding, offering a small smile that ensured she wasn't judging you. It would be comical to do so, after everything that had led up to this moment. Adding to the count of her own crimes, she apparently unleashed an immortal mass murderer.

Wanda looks around, sighing softly. "I presume this place is yours."

You nod but look away from her. "Many of my properties were lost with my imprisonment. Taken back by the Council, or even stolen by other creatures. I'll deal with these usurpers later." The comment made Wanda bite the corner of her mouth. She'd never seen a vampire fight, and you seemed so sure of your own strength over anyone who stood up to you. It was attractive somehow. She pushed the thought away faster than it came. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you need, even if I'm not around."

The statement makes Wanda chuckle in surprise, her cheeks slightly warm. "What? I can’t accept that. I will certainly not abuse hospitality-"

"Don't be ridiculous." You repeat her previous words with an easy smile, and the casual comment sounds different from your formal attitude so far that It's so charming that Wanda has to look away awkwardly, surprised by her own perceptions. "It's a pleasure to have you as a guest. And honestly, it's nice to have someone around after so long." The sincere confession makes her smile. Wanda understood loneliness well. You sigh. "There's enough room in this house. You can stay as long as you need."

Wanda nods. "How exactly did you get me here? And where is here exactly?"

"Northern Europe, but I'm not sure if the country's name remained the same as it was three centuries ago. And I didn't want to carry you so far from the castle, and I figured you didn't intend to return to Nepal and their Kamar Taj’s mages as well."

Wanda grimaces. "What do you mean with ‘carry me’?"

You chuckle slightly. "You were unconscious, Miss Maximoff. And buried under rubble when I found you. We don't have the same magical abilities,  so I can’t use the power of the mind to move objects or people. I picked you up, and brought you with me."

She needs to see this, and the invasion in your mind caught you off guard. Flashes of memories turn clear in your head, your figure pushing rocks out of the way until you find Wanda unconscious. You actually picked her up in your arms and started moving. At some point, you found a car, but good kilometers on the ice at high speed were walked.

Wanda leaves your mind with a sigh, and for the first time, you look upset.

"Please ask next time."

She's still coming to terms with the fact that you ran through the snow with her in your arms to apologize. "You walked half a continent for me?"

You shrug. "I ran, to be fair. Don't worry about that, it wasn't any trouble. My kind has enough strength and speed for a journey like that."

But the ease didn't detract from the significance of the attitude. Wanda could hardly remember the last time anyone had done anything for her - not even Vision, who was her partner, seemed to share any guilt when signing accords that wanted her in jail; And now a stranger was rescuing her at the end of the world just to bring her to safety, without expecting anything in return.

Her silence makes you clear your throat. "I'll give you some privacy. There's more food if you want it, and this is a suite, so the toilet is through that door. I've also taken the liberty of ordering clothes in your size while you’ve been asleep, they're all in the closet. The whole property can be explored, please feel free to do so. There’s a library and art rooms. And please, if you decide to leave, say farewell first."

Wanda smiles tenderly at your request, and you turn away. She finally realizes that you look very tidy, and calls out to you before you can leave the room.

"Are you going out?"

"Just for a few hours." You answer, frowning at the way her expression falls. "Is something wrong?"

Wanda sighs. "I just… don’t wanna be alone."

Despite the sympathy in your eyes, you hesitate. A hand on the doorframe. "Forgive me, miss, I promise I won't be long and that we can spend the rest of the day together." 

Wanda waves your concern away, starting to stand up. "Relax, I'll be fine, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your appointments. I'll explore the house while you're gone."

But despite her casual attitude, you call out to her with a certain seriousness that makes Wanda look at you again. There's something in your expression that makes it clear that you didn't buy Wanda's act at all, and that you can clearly see that she was being serious about her loneliness. Your eyes had a guilty aspect because you couldn't stay. 

You sigh, looking away as you explain: "I must feed myself, Miss Maximoff. Please don't think I'm avoiding your company."

She is slightly surprised by the confession and doesn't know exactly what to say about it. She decides to just nod, without the courage to question you further on the subject even though she's dying to know exactly in which way you're going to feed yourself.

And when you leave her alone, and she wanders around the huge rooms of that mansion, she can't help wondering where you are, if it's like in vampire stories, and you're in some alley cornering an unwary human, or if hunting animals is enough. She becomes so absorbed in her own doubts that when you return, she hasn't even finished seeing the whole place.

"Having fun?" Your question startles her slightly. She smiles, turning her attention away from the art paintings in the room and meeting your gaze again.

"You move silently."

"A talent we share."

Wanda chuckles and waits for you to approach her completely. Side by side, she is the first to speak.

"Everything here is very beautiful." She says softly. "And I may not be centuries old, but I'm no fool. It sounds too good to be true. Be honest, Y/N. What do you hope to get from me?"

You frown, taking one hand out of your pocket to gesture a little. "You have a suspicious nature, Miss Maximoff."

She snorts softly." Y/N..."

But you smile, and Wanda gasps softly because your hand moves to her face, a gentle touch to move a strand of hair out of the way of her eyes. "Not everyone wants to take something from you, Miss. Some people just want to give." Wanda ignores the intensity of your gaze, the quickening of her heartbeat, and raises her hand to grab your wrist and interrupt your intention to stroke her cheek straight away. Her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion in your direction, although your smile never falters. "I could just force you to talk."

"There's no need for that, we can talk over dinner."

She hesitates, aware of the heat on her cheeks. You seem to have a personal victory and Wanda lets go of your hand immediately. 

"Wipe that smile off your face, it's not... that kind of dinner. We don't even know each other." She mutters embarrassedly. You return to your previous position, relaxed with your hands in the pockets of your dress pants and Wanda crosses her arms annoyed at the way her stupid brain keeps finding you more attractive every time she looks at you. 

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, miss." You retort humorously. "It's a strictly professional dinner."

She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her smile from you.

"Just introduce me to the rest of the house."

"It's funny, all witches are always bossy." You comment, letting her gently pat your shoulder even though you could easily escape the gesture if you wanted to.

-&-

"I didn't know vampires cooked."

You chuckle, without taking your eyes off the knife cutting the vegetables. "Have you met many vampires?"

Wanda bites back a smile, rolling her eyes softly. "No, you're the first." She says, watching from the counter stool as you masterfully prepare dinner. "But I thought you guys didn't need to eat."

"We don't, not food at least." You retort gently, even though the implication makes Wanda's eyes sparkle with curiosity. You, despite being busy preparing the meal, notice the slight excitement and give a soft laugh. "If wished, my body can imitate all the biological functions it had before I died. This includes food." To illustrate, you take one of the cut pieces of carrot into your mouth, chewing and swallowing as you finish chopping the vegetables. Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, gathering the courage to ask you what she wishes to know.

When you pour the cut vegetables into a pot, she clears her throat. "Would it be insensitive if I asked how it happened?"

"Very." You smile back. Wanda sighs slightly, feeling like a little child trying to be liked. 

Please, please, notice me and talk to me.

The fire is lit, you wash off the excess vegetable stock and wipe your hands on a tea towel. You speak again.

"It's 2024, which means that in the winter it will be 320 years since my transformation." You begin a little nostalgically, your hands resting on the counter behind you. "Twenty was the age at which I died."

Wanda frowns. "You were so young."

"Yes, I was." You agree with a sad smile. "I used to work here, right in this mansion." Wanda adjusts herself, curiosity taking over completely. "I was raised by this family all my life, and when I fell ill, they decided there was no longer any place for me here."

The witch swallows dryly but doesn't interrupt your story. You look down, bringing your hands in front of your stomach to turn the larger ring you're wearing between your fingers.

"Sick servants would be sent away, so as not to spread the disease to the rest of the house. I died on the road."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Who bit you?"

"Bit me?" You retort in confusion. 

She chuckles awkwardly. "Yes, that's how it works, isn't it? Vampires bite humans and turn them."

It's your turn to laugh, a little impressed. "What? No, by the gods! Imagine how many of us there would be out there if every time a vampire fed, he turned someone? No, no, it's a bit more complicated." You comment casually. "You see, there's an immortality spell, created by the same author of the book that was with you when we met. Original vampires are made by ancient magic, and these can have bloodlines. Weaker vampires are transformed by their blood. And others can be created, even weaker by their descendants. The trick is to die with magical blood in your system so that your soul will be trapped by the magic and will not leave your body. It is then reanimated a few hours after we die. To complete the transformation, we must feed."

She absorbs your words for a moment. Until she finally asks: "Who transformed you?"

You lick your lips, shifting your eyes to the pot as if to confirm the cooking time, before turning away from the counter. "Come with me, I want to show you something."

She follows you around the mansion, way past the kitchen to another level. The entrance hall extends into a long corridor with many old paintings. Finally silver doors at the end.

"This is the main suite of the mansion." You clarify, fiddling with a bunch of keys kept in your pocket until now. Apparently, the only locked room was that one. "It's been adapted, moved from the upper floor to here on the lower level since, at the end of her life, the owner couldn't take the stairs."

Once unlocked, you push the doors open with both hands, exposing the immense royal suite inside. Wanda thinks it looks a lot like fantasy books and is busy admiring the decorations when she comes across a painting on the wall that knocks the air out of her lungs.

"What...?" She approached with uncertain steps until she was touching the painting with her fingers, groping for the drawing of a face that could easily be mistaken for her own. "How is that possible?" She demanded to know, turning to you.

You were still standing in the doorway, your hands in your pockets. "This is your ancestor."

"And why the hell does she have my face?"

"Heritage?" You retort good-humoredly, but Wanda snorts incredulously, advancing towards you angrily. You quickly raise your hands in surrender, a nervous laugh escaping as you see the fury in her eyes. “I’m joking, dear lord! I didn't mean to upset you. Let me tell you the whole story!."

"It better be a very good one." She retorts, watching you intently as if expecting a kidnap attempt.

You sigh, nodding before turning your face to the photo. "Her name was Elizabeth. She's gone if that's not obvious. This painting was done over four centuries years ago when your family was still known as the Maksymovs. They lived well, your ancestors, as you can see from the amount of gold in this manor. But sorcery and witchcraft were never very well-liked anywhere, and just like the rest of us, your family was hunted down." You say, stepping aside to open the curtains and light up the room. Still, on your back, you continued to talk. "I was just a little girl when Lady Maksymov took me in, Elizabeth’s mother. I cleaned and cooked, and I was lucky enough to be allowed inside the mansion. To share the room with the family. All due respect to their memories, but my Lady was not a decent person. She was cruel and harsh and preferred to die on the mountain of money than give a little to the children she watched depart for this place. I stayed here because I had no other choice in life, and when the neighbors began to question what she was doing in the basement, she was taken away just like her children.  And unlike her mother or any of her siblings, Elizabeth was not a very talented witch. Her magic was dormant. That poor woman, always so sad under the cruelties shouted at her by her relatives. She could never master chaos but it got better when she gave in to the darkhold's allure. Unfortunately for the servants, her gentle personality was gone once her magic control was improved. I remember her dark fingers chastising me every time I failed to fold the sheets correctly."

Wanda swallowed at the anger hidden. Your posture was enough for her to believe your words.

“Why did she turn you?”

You smile sadly. "I was just a means to an end." You reply. "Elizabeth was what they called a Siphoner. Although descended from a powerful witch lineage, she couldn't generate her own magic. She could only steal it from elsewhere, either from a magic book or from a vampire." 

Wanda sighs as she understands, and you chuckle in upset. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't even close to existing back then."

She moves closer. "Still, on behalf of my family, I'm sorry." The witch says as gently as she can. "I can hardly imagine how painful that probably was."

You shrug, trying to be casual. "That was a long time ago, Miss Maximoff." You mumble before sighing. "And it didn't work out the way she wanted either. Elizabeth didn't intend to use me as her magical reservoir for so long. She wanted me to transform her. Make her a heretic, a vampire-witch hybrid so that she could steal magic from her own nature. And like a good servant, I did just that."

Wanda could feel the force of your painful memories with her telekinesis, flashes of vivid images in your mind begging to be relieved. A personal torture. 

"Let me guess, that was the rule you broke that put you in that tomb."

You lower your head, looking very upset all of a sudden. "No, Miss Maximoff. I was loyal until I wasn't anymore." Wanda frowns in confusion, but you sigh and stare at your own reflection in the window. "The abuse of the Darkhold destroyed Lady Elizabeth. Not even the spell of immortality could heal her, remove the rot from her soul. We traveled the world, searching for potions and creatures and anything we could find to help her, but I knew that the slaughter she was doing in the name of her own health had to be stopped. When our last trip ended, I told her I wouldn't help her anymore."

Wanda can see clearly now; the wrathful recollections of a witchy lady with an almost demonic appearance. The hold of the Darkhold on Elizabeth's soul. How you're only trying to defend yourself when you strike back.

You sniffle, turning your face away, and Wanda blocks your memories from her mind immediately.

"No greater dishonor than ingratitude." You mutter. "I shouldn't have turned my back on Elizabeth. She died alone in this empty mansion, taken by her illness. I returned to a rotten land wracked by dark magic. I restored every stone and raised the mansion to its original state. I lived as a vampire for a decade before I was captured. Elizabeth, in her last vengeful act, left a letter denouncing all her family's crimes to the magical authorities of the time. A lineage who survived the witch-hunts, chased by their own kind like animals. I wore the same coat of arms and slept in the family mansion, so they didn't care that my surname wasn't the same. But I wasn't a witch to die, and the darkhold refused to show the executors exactly how to kill me. The solution was a prison."

You're surprised that Wanda reaches for your hand, but you don't pull away. She also gives you a small smile.

"Three hundred years is too long to punish someone who had no choice." She says, the gesture of her thumb caressing your palm making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Definitely too long without touching someone was messing with your head. Little did you know, Wanda was going through something quite similar. Starved for physical touch. "Is that why you're being so generous? Do you think you owe this family a debt?" You swallow, nodding, and Wanda sighs. " Sweetheart..."

"Please let me serve you." Your tone is almost desperate, Wanda shakes her head. "Please-"

"This isn't the 1700s, Y/N. I won't be your lady." She assures you, her grip tighter. "You're a person, not a property."

"I'd be dead if it weren't for Elizabeth-"

"She was cruel and selfish, and she used you to your last breath. And beyond!" Wanda interrupts, not losing her composure when you huff impatiently and pull your hand away. "You can grumble all you want. I'm not going to honor the memory of some slave owner, family or not. You're free to go."

"But I don't want to leave, Wanda." You snap, almost pleading. "This is my home. Serving your family has always been... my purpose. Turning my back on it made me lose everything. And then you saved me, and for a second, I thought I could see Elizabeth again. I ran to this place, and I realized how much time had actually gone by." You sniffle, your hands going to Wanda's shoulders. "Please. Caring is the only thing I know how to do right."

Wanda sighs, her hands finding your wrists. "This isn't caring, Y/N, this is servitude. I would never ask this of you." Your expression falls as if you're being rejected. Wanda stops your hands from moving away. "But I could use a friend."

Your face lights up, and Wanda smiles too because she thinks you look so beautiful now. "Oh, that... is really very sweet. I'd be honored."

The witch chuckles. "You're adorable. Come, our lunch should be ready soon." She doesn't mention that you two walk into the kitchen hand in hand, and you don't mind, so you don't say anything either.

-&-

"I can't believe you don't know what McDonald's is."

"And I can't believe you've never been to the Opera, but here we are."

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief at your response. You're sitting on the living room floor, or rather on cushions on the carpet because you refused to sit so informally and she was still working on getting you to relax into the casual way of living life in that century. 

Weeks into a roommate routine, your activities consisted of having meals together and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. You'd spent 300 years imprisoned, and Wanda had a multitude of things to introduce you to, while you'd been raised by the ancient witch family of the ancestors of a woman who knew little about her origins. You had as much to tell as she did.

Most days when you two would leave the Mansion, you would experience things that you had never experienced before. Restaurants, food trucks, and even the invention of cars or electricity. The Mansion needed to be restored too, but Wanda was happy to know that it hadn't been abandoned.

It was magically hidden, and she had distant cousins from very old marriages in her distant line. It was one of the best pieces of news she'd ever received - to know that she wasn't the only Maximoff left.

The Manor had been cared for over the centuries by escape witches, some of whom, like Elizabeth, had their powers dormant and lived normal lives under that roof. Until the place was finally inherited by her great-aunt, Tatiana, who was living in New Orleans, and Wanda would visit once the work on the mansion was finished.

She had no idea where you got the money for a whole restoration team, and you laughed when she asked, offering as an answer only the information that vampires can persuade people.

That's how you ended up on the living room floor, finishing gathering old belongings that needed to be protected from the paint restoration and set-up of that chamber.

"It's nice that some things have been preserved so well." She comments, stealing a quick glance at your figure distracted by sorting letters. You look good in this century's clothes that Wanda helped you pick out. The barely buttoned plaid shirt makes Wanda hold her breath every time she catches herself letting her gaze fall to your collarbone. 

"Rich families often treasure stuff." You retort with an easy smile. You stack a few letters before opening the next box of items and gasp slightly when you find something very valuable inside. "Look, I think you'll want to keep this."

The small item is placed in her palm: A gold button with an "M" engraved on it. The family crest. Wanda doesn't know why, but it makes her eyes water, and she gives you a tearful smile as she thanks you.

But despite this balanced relationship and pleasant routine, there was still the elephant in the room.

Every evening, you went out to feed yourself. For almost two months, Wanda didn't ask any questions. Even though she was dying to know exactly how, or even who.

But she didn't want to be invasive or even sound like someone obsessed with your fangs.

She would wait for some casual moment to bring up the subject. Perhaps at the next dinner party, with a joke, and then she would ask if you could show her how it was done.

Luckily for her, another witch was even more interested in the story.

Tatiana was an expert enchantress. She lived in an apartment in the heart of New Orleans and had a very busy pub, and to no surprise, frequented mainly by mystical beings. It was Wanda's first time in a place of that kind.

She was so excited to meet another member of her family that she almost forgot her last worries. It was her aunt, in between many colorful drinks after an afternoon of introduction, who brought up the subject again.

"So tell me, sweetie, all this work to restore the Maximoff household. It must be exhausting even for a vampire." Tatiana began with a smile. Her curly hair fell in waves down her back, and for the third time that night, Wanda noticed that green eyes were probably the only physical feature that most of the Maximoff women shared. Her aunt has a dangerous smirk on her lips as she looks in your direction, and Wanda swallows dryly as she realizes that it's the flirtatious kind. "We allow feeding in these parts."

You're taken aback. You chuckle awkwardly, aware of the two witches' attention in your direction. The crowded bar seems to get even smaller.

"I'm fine, Tatiana, don't worry." Wanda thinks you're lying. You can never maintain eye contact when you do, and she also often finds it charming how a vampire can be so bad at telling lies. "I had some blood before I got here-"

"By Morgana, that was several hours ago!" Tatiana cuts in, gesturing excitedly to the waiters. She was very happy to meet Wanda too and had been drinking since early morning in celebration. "You know, I used to date a vampire back in the last century. He had a restricted diet of animals and always looked pale and hungry. Are you one of those vegetarian vampires too?"

The question is rhetorical, she doesn't even hear your confused mutter "I don't think vegetarianism works like that". She's busy with the waitress, whose irises redden as soon as Tatiana speaks to her. The girl is younger than everyone else there and is clearly bewitched.

"There you go, dear, you can have a taste." Offers the woman, to which you choke in surprise.

"What? H-here? But..."

"Now, don't you act like a good Samaritan, Miss L/N." Tatiana retorts in a provocative tone, resting her chin on one hand. "I know what you got up to before you were imprisoned. Feeding off a waitress is nothing."

You're immediately crestfallen, your face flushing with shame. Wanda looks at her aunt with irritation.

"Don't talk to her like that." The younger witch says sternly. "'She's already received enough of a punishment.

Tatiana chuckles wickedly, tilting her head gently. A very familiar gesture indeed. "Let's get a few things clear, Wanda. The only reason I didn't rip that usurper vampire's head off the moment she set foot in my town was because she brought my niece back to me. The fighting separated our families, I never knew I had nephews. Do you think you would have joined that group of dressed-up Americans if I'd known you were a genuine Maximoff? No, dear, I would have raised you. Restored our coven, taught you magic, as it should have been. As it would have been if this ungrateful little blood-sucker had fulfilled the role she was given. Every spell has a price, and she didn't pay for this one she so boldly displayed for a decade of fortune-raising."

"I regret it very deeply, miss-"

"No, you don't apologize for any of this." Wanda interrupts you with a gentle squeeze on your wrist under the table. With a serious expression, she faces her aunt. "Let's actually get things straight, Auntie. You don't talk to her like that. Ever. You're not going to use something that happened three centuries ago against someone who has spent all this time imprisoned in a tomb, paying for crimes she didn't commit alone. It seems that witches, especially from this family, have a habit of evading accountability. I know that well." Tatiana gives a little smile, clearly aware of Westview, or what came after. Wanda doesn't hesitate. "She's my friend. And she's been through enough. All she's done since she came back is look after me, and I'm not going to accept this kind of treatment from anyone, not even my blood. And considering history, especially my blood."

Without contradicting, Tatiana nods in understanding, busying herself with lighting one of the cigarettes on the corner of the table. The colorful smoke wafted upwards as she finished a long drag.

"As you please, Scarlet Witch." The elder woman finally replies, and you swallow dryly, stealing a glance at Wanda to see if she might lose her temper at the slight challenge in her aunt's tone.

Damn, you'd forgotten how the Maximoffs had a rather dangerously weak ego to offend, especially if challenged.

But luckily for you, Wanda forced a smile, and the tension at the table eased. Tatiana dismissed the waiter with a nod and went back to talking about business in the city as if nothing had happened.

For the rest of the evening, Wanda drew patterns on the palm of your hand under the table.

-&-

Around midnight, when the desserts were finished but the bar seemed livelier than ever, you felt really hungry.

The witches were engaged in animated conversation about the times in Sokovia, how Tatiana missed the opportunity to find out about the Maximoffs after the surname grew more common around the country for a few years before disappearing again, and you used the opportunity to escape for a few moments.

A quick snack, just to satisfy your hunger. After all, you always kept yourself full around Wanda; you'd never forgive yourself if you lost control around her.

You make your way through the crowded bar, taking one last look at the back table before making your way to the exit. You're almost at the door when someone purposely bumps into you.

"Hey, better watch where you're going." Warned the corpulent fellow; he was at least ten centimeters taller and had a strong distinctive smell that caused you an instant anxiety. 

Wolf scent.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." You mumble, ready to bypass him, but he steps in your way again. 

"We don't like strangers around here." He informs you with a small smile, showing off his canine fangs. "You're lucky we have our orders, miss."

You sigh slightly. "Who are you again?"

"The name's Victor Creed, but everyone calls me Sabertooth. You know, because of these little beauties here." He points to his fangs with conviction. "They grow much bigger during the transformation. I once ripped the head of one of your kind with them." The story is clearly told to intimidate you, but your unimpressed expression makes the man clear his throat. "Don't go wandering around, Tatiana can't protect you on the outside."

You force a smile. "I can take care of myself, wolf, don't worry." You move around him to finally leave, but even with his back turned, Sabertooth laughs.

"Alright then, go for a walk while I introduce myself to your little witch. Do you know if the Scarlet Witch is looking for better watchdogs? If she's as stuck-up as the rest of the family, maybe I'll write to Kamar Taj about where she's been hiding."

The thing is, maybe you've spent too much time with the Maximoffs all your life. And your temper is just as bad as theirs.

Victor has barely finished his teasing, and you've already grabbed him by the arm, mashing him into the ground like a lump of flour. The commotion immediately attracts the attention of everyone around, but until the crowd fully identifies what's going on, Victor has already used his wolf-like speed to get to his feet and advance on you.

He's so confident about his own strength that it takes him a whole moment to realize that your fist has already gone through his chest.

"Give me one good reason not to spread your guts on this floor, Mr. Creed." You say with an unwavering expression, your hand clenched around his barely beating heart.

Victor chokes on his own blood, his muscular hands try to push your shoulders back, but you don't move an inch. He grunts in pain.

"I-I take it back." He gasps, but you squeeze a little harder.

"That's not a reason."

The man breaks down in a sob. "P-please. I'm begging you. I wasn't thinking-"

It would be so easy, just to kill him. Rip the heart out of that arrogant wolf and let him drop. You never forgot the feeling, the predatory hunger for blood and violence burning in your veins. Nor Elizabeth's disappointed look every time you ended up covered in blood and it didn't do any good.

Letting go of the heart, and pulling your hand out, you saw Victor's wound heal immediately. A full moon must have been just around the corner for a wolf to heal so quickly.

His release drew your attention to the rest of the pub. All those people, watching the scene with mixed expressions of horror and disbelief on their faces. Some clearly recognized you, others seemed surprised to witness a werewolf of that size being beaten so easily.

Vitor's blood stained the blouse Wanda gifted you, and you swallowed down the urge to vomit.

While you were trying to recover from the interaction, a duo cut through the crowd, and Tatiana's short giggle made you wince.

"Keep her in line, Wanda. We don't make a mess this close to humans in this neighborhood." The witch warns but Wanda is staring at you in complete mesmerization. You shake your wrist gently, letting the excess blood drip onto the floor before you start to move.

The adrenaline of the confrontation has starved you.

-&-

You barely enter the first alley before Wanda catches up with you.

"Where are you going?"

But you don't answer the question, you just keep walking and retort: "Go back inside, I won't be long."

For a moment, you think she'll obey, but how foolish of you. Wanda was probably the most stubborn Maximoff you've ever met.

She almost gives you a heart attack when she appears in your path, making you jump backward.

"What the hell...?"

"You're shutting me out." She declares, frustrated. You swallow dry, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just going for a walk to clear my head. See you at the apartment-"

"Taking a walk is what you're calling it now? I'm not an idiot, I know you're going to feed." Wanda interrupted annoyed, getting in your way and stopping you from fleeing. "Why do you keep trying to hide this part of yourself? I don't care that you're a vampire."

"Wanda, please, just move."

"No."

"Wanda."

She crosses her arms. "I wanna watch." 

You choke, chuckling nervously. "Excuse me?" 

But she doesn't lose her cool, nodding. "I want to watch you feed on someone."

Wanda imagined some reactions to the suggestion: anger, indignation, mockery. She didn't think you'd turn so clumsy, with rosy cheeks and unable to look her in the eye.

"You're a very odd individual." You mumble shyly, and she has to giggle confusedly, losing her serious pose to adjust the collar of your blouse. 

"Pleaseee." She stretches out the word, liking the way a smile breaks across your lips or especially the way you stare at her mouth when she talks like that. "I'll behave. I'll just stay put and watch. I've never seen it happen before. Please, honey? Just once."

You sigh in defeat, and Wanda taps her hands before jumping on your neck, and hugging you excitedly. It's a very difficult struggle to keep your fangs away with her so close.

It doesn't even last half a minute, but it feels like an eternity because you want to feed and everything always moves slower if the vampire focuses on hunger. 

"It's not going to be anything special, I don't want to cause a scene in your aunt's neighborhood." You let her know, thinking you need to talk a bit to push the dizziness away.

Wanda smiles excitedly. "Anything will be great, darling. Come on, I'll be right behind you."

It's easy to find prey in a place like New Orleans. You end up deciding on a restaurant waiter, isolated in one of the alleys. He's a young adult, distracted by chores, and you almost give up because of the smell of garbage so close by. But it's a very good isolated opportunity to waste like this.

Your fangs are already out when there's a noise behind you.

Wanda has bumped into something, loud enough to attract the boy's attention, who is startled by the two figures in the alley. One glimpse of your vampiric appearance and he's stumbling frightened away before starting to run.

You sigh incredulously, and Wanda appears in your field of vision.

"Sorry, it was..." She falls silent, surprised that you haven't gathered your usual looks and absorbing every detail of your face now. From the fangs to the completely darkened eye sclera. When she speaks, her voice is much huskier. "An accident."

"It's okay, it actually tastes better when they're scared." You shrug. "The adrenaline and fear accelerates the heart which pumps fresh blood throughout the body. That's why so many vampires prefer to hunt at night. People are more afraid of the dark than they think."

Wanda chuckles, looking at you in a way that makes you forget about the boy's footsteps becoming too distant to distinguish from the other sounds of the city.

"You're kind of a vampire nerd." 

"I don't know what that word means." You give a confused laugh and Wanda moves closer.

"It means I think you're really cute." She retorts, making you gulp dryly. Her hands find your shoulders, and Wanda gets close enough for you to count her freckles. "And I'm dying to know how these little ones feel, darling. Do they hurt?”

She's too close for you to focus, but you make an effort. "Hm, just a little, when they come out. They usually only bother me when I'm really hungry."

Wanda's fists cross together behind your head, and she's definitely too close for you to think about anything other than her.

"And how hungry are you now?"

"Very, Miss Maximoff." You confess hoarsely. Wanda smiles mischievously, tilting her neck in your direction.

"Well, I think you should have a little taste."

"God, Wanda." Your eyes close on instinct, your face falling forward so that you sink into the gap in her collarbone. Wanda shudders, as affected as you are. Her hands-free themselves so that she can stroke your arm, as a reassurance that everything is all right, and also caress your hair because apparently everything so far hasn't been maddening enough for her.

Every cell of your spirit begs you to sink your fangs into the warm skin in front of you, to drink every drop until Wanda faints against you, but you fight nature itself with her help. Her soft sighs in your ear, assuring you that she trusts you.

"It'll only be a little bit, I promise." You assure her, licking the spot gently and drawing a deep sigh from the other girl. It's the sound you focus on before you take the first bite.

Wanda tenses at the slightest hint of pain, but another sensation takes over elsewhere. Her cheeks burn with the betrayal of her own body, and she finds herself unable to care about the mild pain while she's throbbing between her legs.

Her nails dig into your biceps, and she starts to squirm under you, surrendering to the sensation of your bodies so close together. You hum in satisfaction at the soothing of your hunger, and Wanda drops her hand to your waist.

"Enough, baby." She whispers the request, her nails scratching the hair on the back of your neck. "I'm starting to get dizzy."

You hold on a little tighter, and Wanda softens against your body. Her heart is pounding, and she is aware of her pathetic underwear situation. Your body heaved forward, and Wanda didn't have the strength to resist any pull. She feels her back hit the wall of the alley, and whimpers at the feel of your leg pressed between hers.

She doesn't think she has ever been so at someone's mercy as she is now. She just wants to tell you to help her relieve the pressure between her legs, but every time she tries to call you, what leaves her lips are needy moans.

And you kept feeding and the surroundings began to darken. Wanda only realized that she'd been grinding herself on your thigh all this time because her climax approached at high speed, and falling off the edge brought a momentary recovery of consciousness.

"Oh, God, detka!" She meows, spilling herself on your thigh. Her body spasms softly, and you tense up, stopping your feeding immediately. Wanda falls limp in your arms, trying to fuck herself stupidly even after the orgasm she's just achieved. Your arms are the only support keeping her upright. "Do that again."

You shake your head, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. "No, I took more than I should have." You retort softly, and Wanda has to blink a few times to realize that your appearance has returned to normal. "What a terrible idea that was, Wanda. So dangerous… I was starving."

She gives you a dreamy little smile. "How do I taste?"

"The best I've ever had." You assure her before adjusting her to hold her in your arms just in time for Wanda to lose consciousness.

She dreams of the same feeling of being carried but in a place much colder than New Orleans.

-&-

She wakes up just in time to see you putting her to bed, all the way to the borrowed room in her aunt's empty apartment.

Wanda grabs your wrist before you can pull away after putting the covers over her.

"Hey." Your voice and gaze are so sweet that she almost forgets everything that has happened so far. But Wanda actually remembers very well, and the lingering sensation of your body against hers makes her shiver. 

"Hey... sorry for blacking out on you." She murmurs, her free hand coming up to your face. You bite your lip, still hovering over her body and uncertain what you should do next. Should you pull away? Lean in and kiss Wanda like you've been dreaming of doing for weeks? She seems to be able to see all the hesitation in your eyes, and offers a reassuring smile, her hand caressing your cheek. "What's wrong?"

Wanda is definitely teasing you, but you don't mind, smiling too as you steady your hands next to her body on the mattress, face to face, the two of you waiting for the other to make a move first until the tension is almost unbearable. But you also remember what brought you there, and let out a small sigh.

"You shouldn't have baited me like that, Wanda. It's dangerous, I could have... lost control."

Her expression becomes almost mischievous, a smile threatening to break out on her lips. "I've survived much worse, darling."

You sigh in frustration. "Wanda..."

"It's the truth." She chuckles even though you move away to sit down properly. Wanda also mimics the gesture, looking for your hand on the bed so that you stop grimacing and look at her. "Hey, come on, don't be upset."

"I'm not."

"Then why the pout?" She leans in, kissing your cheek and you snort away, unable to stay angry with this adorably charming witch. "You have to trust me, sweetheart." She whispers, kissing your jaw. You sigh, squeezing her hand gently.

"I trust you with my life, Wanda." You let her know in the same tone, intertwining your fingers in her lap. Wanda smiles against your skin, chaste kisses trailing from your jaw to your collarbone. "I'm just scared... that one day, I'll lose control and hurt you. I'd never forgive myself."

She pulls away a little to look you in the eye. "I meant it what I said before." Starts the witch. "I've been through much worse. You weren't there to see... what I did to reach that little girl. You don't have to worry about hurting me, because it doesn't matter, I'll always heal." With your hesitation, she pulls further away to push the collar of her shirt aside and let you see the place where you fed on her a few minutes ago. "Look, it's gone. You have to trust me, darling. I know that the idea of anyone being stronger than an original is hard for you to accept, but believe me, I'll be fine. I'll always be fine, even if you are starving and out of your mind."

You grimace, adjusting yourself so that you can hold her by the waist and place her on your lap. "Just because you're going to heal doesn't mean I can hurt you. You deserve kindness, Wanda. I can give you my best." Your mouth meets hers, it's not a hungry kiss but it's a hot one and it takes Wanda out of her orbit. It's been a while since the last time, and well, it's never really been like this. She struggles a little to find her rhythm, for a short moment just panting against your experienced tongue, until she finally responds in an equally passionate way that makes you sigh and press your body to hers. 

Wanda likes the sound. Wanda likes you.

"Can I take off your shirt?" Your request comes between one kiss and another, she hardly answers because her mind is clouded with arousal, and if she could be honest, she would have been out of her clothes a long time ago. 

"Yes, please." She gasps back, anxious hands tracing your back. Wanda is restless under your touch, shy about your gaze once the clothes come off. But you do everything with an unbearable slowness that leaves her squeezing her thighs together in search of relief. 

She had sex before - For the first time in a war-torn adolescence, an experience that was forgettable and almost regretted. And then with a machine man who could pretend but never had the biological need to do so. 

This moment right now was like no other, being with someone who worshipped her body, who was as breathless as she was, who reacted to her touch and was practically at her mercy when she touched the right spot.

And Wanda finds that she loves it. Having you touch her and touch you back, and feeling your fangs scratch her skin every time she thrusts her hips into yours.

Pinned against the bed, naked as you are, your legs entwined together like your bodies. Sighs of pleasure mingle with the dance of your hips, and Wanda digs her nails into your back as your fangs press into her collarbone. 

You drink less than last time, but her legs still tingle. Or maybe it's the orgasm hitting her hard.

This is different from the first - the whole bed vibrates with the wave of magic that escapes the witch with her back arched. You hold Wanda, even though you're also shaking with the force of your own climax. She initiates the next kiss this time, moaning into your tongue as she spins your bodies around with ease. Your hands entwine together at the top of your head, but Wanda lets go, lowering herself and getting a confused sigh from you.

"What are you up to, little witch?"

Then it occurs to her with your expression that you are four centuries old and have spent much of this time as a prisoner and that perhaps you haven't been so confident because Wanda is your first lover.

She looks back up, sitting on your hips, breathing out of rhythm but now with a new excitement shining in her eyes.

"Babe, be honest... have you ever been with a woman before?"

Your face gains a deep color, and you turn your gaze away. Wanda falls hard, even if it doesn't occur to her yet.

She giggles softly and you're even more embarrassed, but she doesn't let you move away, her firm legs holding you in place.

"Don't make fun of me." You mutter, and Wanda snorts softly.

"Never." She assures you, even though she already has a new dozen antics memorized. Her mouth kisses your jaw and goes down like her body. The color in your cheeks is for another reason soon. "I love being your first. I want to make you feel good."

You hesitate to hold her when she's stimulating you, worried about losing control of your own strength. The sheets are destroyed when Wanda flicks her tongue over your breasts, smiling with delight at the sight of you squirming.

She goes lower and you gasp for air. "What... are you doing?" You ask mortified. It's not the 1700s anymore, you have to remember. Female pleasure is, well, taken into account. Wanda bites the inside of your thighs, watching the muscles twitch for a moment.

"You'll love it, I promise." It's the only thing she says before diving in, her hot mouth pulling all the air from your lungs. It's the most wonderful thing you've ever felt. Wanda's tongue works on your most intimate part, teasing your entrance before she starts to eat you out hungrily. You grip the headboard, your eyes closed tightly. Wanda holds your legs open, and the knot in your stomach starts to become impossible to contain. 

The witch seems to like it too. She moans for your taste on her tongue, and the new vibration pushes you over the edge. Wanda holds your spasming body without difficulty, you think she uses magic for that. And still calming down, it takes you a whole moment to stop seeing stars.

Wanda licks up every drop of your pleasure, moaning softly before meeting your gaze again. You can't hold it, and end up covering your reddened face with your arm while ignoring the smug giggle of the witch who begins to climb your body again.

"Don't be shy... you look so pretty when you moan my name." She praises you provocatively, and you can't help but smile, feeling completely relaxed. Wanda waits for you to look at her again, her arms resting on your shoulder so that she can look at you closely. "Hi."

Your hand finds her cheek. " Hi, yourself." She leans into your touch, her smile filling your chest with warm happiness. Wanda sighs.

"Can we stay like this? Just for a moment." She asks quietly, and something in her gaze tells her that the question isn't just for today. Wanda wants to know if you can be with her.

You would. Forever if she wished. "Of course, little witch. For as long as you want."

[mindmelter]

Five Alien Hosts: Adventures In Italy (Part 2) - Not Alone

( 1 Year ago )

It was finally the night of the Comet Clyde, a significant event for the entire world. Everyone was looking up to the sky to contemplate the beauty of the comet, but not Victor. Victor was watching gay porn in his room, he couldn't care less about the Comet, who cares about watching a once-in-a-lifetime event, if you can watch hot men fucking instead? That's what he thought until a loud explosion came from his backyard, breaking every single window in his house.

Scared, Victor ran to see what was the cause of the explosion. When he arrived in his backyard, he stopped mid-track. There was a meteorite shaped like an egg in his backyard.

Victor slowly walked towards the egg-shaped meteorite. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Victor looked up to the sky. "It must have come from the comet," he thought. Suddenly, he heard a weird cracking noise coming from inside the egg. Victor had watched enough sci-fi movies to know there was only one explanation for that: aliens. But he just wasn't expecting what came out of the egg.

"What the..." Victor screamed and fell down in fear.

One black bug crawled out of one of the holes, then a second one, a third, a fourth, and for last, a fifth.

Victor was scared, but the bugs didn't attack him, they just stopped in front of him. Victor calmed down and slowly stretched out his hand, but before he could touch them, the bugs quickly crawled back inside the egg.

The next morning, Victor was eating breakfast while watching the news. The news — as it had been since the beginning of the year — was talking about Comet Clyde and its brief passing the night before.

"Last night, we witnessed the final passage of Comet Clyde. Although the comet was far from Earth, it still sent meteorites raining down across the globe. The countries that are confirmed to have been hit by meteorites are the United States, Italy, and Spain. It is theorized that the largest meteorite fell in Spain. No casualties have been reported. The American army is now confis-"

Victor turned off the TV and stared at the egg-shaped meteorite that he placed on his dining table. The bugs hadn't come out since the night before. He tried to feed them by putting some bread in front of the egg, but none came out. Maybe alien insects feed on something different, but what? Victor asked himself, he hoped they wouldn't feed on humans.

Suddenly he heard a loud knock on the door. When he opened it, he saw four male soldiers.

"H-hi, can I help with something?" Victor asked.

"Good morning, you're Victor Sanchez, correct?" A very good looking soldier asked. Victor nodded.

"Yes, that would be me."

"I am Sergeant Ramirez. Last night we received a report from your neighbors about an explosion coming from your house."

Victor gulped, his heart was racing, but he tried to remain calm. "An explosion? I didn't hear anything last night, s-sir."

The soldiers looked suspicious at Victor, he was never a great liar.

"Can we come in for a second?"

Victor nodded and allowed the soldiers to walk inside his house.

"Could someone explain to me exactly what's happening here?" Victor asked as the soldiers began searching his house.

"Last night, this part of the city was struck by debris from Comet Clyde. The government has ordered the Army to collect and hand over every meteorite found. It's a matter of public safety."

"Well, if a meteorite crashed in my house, I would know it, right?" Victor said in a joking manner, but inside he was very nervous.

"Yes, I guess you would..." Sergeant Ramirez then noticed the broken windows. "What happened to the windows?"

"I... I don't-"

"Sergeant, I think you'll want to check this out," another one of the soldiers said, pointing at the meteorite on the table. Victor cursed at himself; he forgot to hide the damn egg. Sergeant Ramirez raised an eyebrow and looked at Victor.

"Oooh... umm, this? This is just a house d-decoration! Please don't touch it, It's very expensive!" Victor said rushing to the table and grabbing the egg.

"The Captain said something about an egg-shaped debris, didn't he?" Another soldier pointed out.

"He did." Ramirez responded, walking towards Victor, "Sorry, we will have to confiscate this."

"No! You can't!" Victor shouted, hugging the egg tighter, he couldn't let them take it, the things they would do to those poor bugs... Victor would never forgive himself.

"We are not asking, we got orders to follow. The government's gonna compensate you for this. So, either you cooperate or we'll have to take you in."

Victor got angry and in a quick decision, he threw the egg to the floor, breaking it in half. Four bugs immediately crawled out of the broken egg and went toward the soldiers, the tiny bugs were so fast that the soldiers didn't even have time to react. One soldier attempted to reach for his gun, but before he could aim it at the bug, it swiftly crawled under his uniform pants and headed toward his head. Each bug targeted a soldier and forced its way into their ears.

The four soldiers collapsed to the floor, and one by one, they began convulsing with their eyes rolling back to white. Suddenly, all four soldiers stood up with blank faces and empty eyes, Sergeant Ramirez pulled his pants down and started to jerk off, while the other three soldiers kneeled in front of him. Victor watched as Sergeant Ramirez jerked his big shaft right on his colleagues' blank faces.

"What is happening here?" Victor asked, but Ramirez just continued mindlessly jerking off.

Soon he started to cum and the three kneeling soldiers started to eagerly lick every drop. It looked like the bugs were consuming it. So that's what the bugs feed on, Victor thought. Sergeant Ramirez remained motionless during the entire time, with his hard dick pointing up, still pulsing and dripping cum. Sergeant Ramirez then looked at Victor with his dead eyes. "Follow him." He said, pointing to the broken egg on the floor.

Victor then noticed there was still one bug left inside the egg—the fifth bug. Victor was scared that the remaining bug would do to him what the others did with the soldiers, but the bug just crawled out of the egg and went towards the door. Victor followed the bug outside until he saw the bug crawl inside the military armored vehicle that was parked in front of his house. The bug easily crawled under the car and disappeared.

A few seconds later Victor started to hear some male grunting and weird sounds coming from inside the car, and suddenly, the vehicle's door opened. Inside was the Captain of the operation: A very hot, muscular, and intimidating man.

"Get in." The man commanded, he had such a deep voice that Victor obeyed without thinking twice.

"Hello, Victor. It's good to finally be able to communicate with you." The man said.

"I know you're the bug controlling this man, but..." Victor looked at the man's huge tattooed arm, he could tear Victor in half with those arms. "is this safe?"

"I'm in control of this human now. The changes that I made in his brain are irreversible, you don't have to fear him anymore. He's my host now."

"Your host?? What happened to the real him?"

"He was gone the moment I pierced my way inside his brain. Let's put it that way: I turned him into my vehicle and I'm the only one who can drive him."

"Ok, so I'm safe from him but... Am I safe from you?"

"Yes. We didn't crash into your backyard by accident, you have been chosen by us to be our Master. We felt your energy from afar and from all the humans in this city, your desire for control was the strongest of all. We knew you wouldn't find a problem in letting us take over your kind, so we directed the egg to you."

Victor remembered he was watching gay porn when the egg crashed in his backyard, could it be related? Was his desire for the men in the porn the reason that attracted the bugs to him? He had so many questions.

"You need control and we need a controller. You're special because you don't care about them, in fact, you get aroused by it," The Captain smirked and caressed Victor's hard tent. Victor nervously laughed.

"Does this host arouse you?" The Captain flexed both his arms. Victor shyly nodded. The alien-controlled Captain placed his big hand behind Victor's head and pulled him for a rough kiss. They shared a long passionate kiss, with the Captain's big tongue dominating the kiss the entire time. Victor then started to feel the Captain's grip on his neck getting tighter. The Captain stopped the kiss while maintaining a tight grip, he smirked at Victor and said "You will be the perfect Master for us." He then spat on Victor's face and released him, leaving Victor speechless.

"Oh c'mon, I know you like it. Let's get inside, I will properly introduce you to my brothers."

Victor followed the Captain back inside his house. The four soldiers were now casually talking to each other with their deflated dicks hanging out of their flies. When they saw Victor, they dropped to their knees. "We are here to serve you. Master." They all said in unison. Victor looked at the four soldiers kneeling in his living room, they all had their tongues hanging out for some reason.

The Captain suddenly pulled down his pants and started to casually jerk off his huge shaft. Victor was amazed by the size of it. The Captain walked towards one of the soldiers and aimed the tip of the shaft at the soldier's mouth, but before shoving it inside, he looked at Victor with his empty blank eyes.

"My brothers are still hungry, will you help me feed them? I don't think this host has enough to feed them all."

Victor grinned and walked towards Sergeant Ramirez.

"Feed me, Master," he begged.

Victor didn't like the way Ramirez talked to him earlier and how he tried to take the egg from him, Victor would enjoy this part very much. Ramirez took his entire length into his throat like an expert. Victor moaned loudly and grabbed each side of Ramirez's head as he started to get hough. He looked to his side and saw the Captain doing the same with another soldier. Victor couldn't hold it any longer and started to shoot.

__________________________________

( Present Days )

Victor woke up with a warm mouth wrapping around his member, he pulled the covers to reveal Grus's bodybuilder host under the sheets with his entire length inside his mouth. The bodybuilder stopped sucking and gave him a sexy smile.

"Good morning, Master," He said, giving the shaft a few kisses.

"Good morning... Grus." Victor moaned. "You know how to wake me up appropriately. After last night, you must be starving. Here, take your reward." Victor said, grabbing the bodybuilder by the hair and starting to thrust deeper into his throat. Victor moaned louder and finally gave Grus's what he wanted, filling the host's mouth with his cum. But the bodybuilder didn't swallow, he suddenly froze and his eyes rolled back as Grus crawled out of his brain and to his mouth, consuming the small pool of cum inside. As Victor waited for Grus to eat, he noticed that Alexander (Sylo's host) was not in the room with them.

The night before, Sylo had called Grus to Victor's room. They spent the night having fun with each other. Victor jerked off while he watched Alexander fuck the bodybuilder, who was on all fours moaning like a slut. Victor loved seeing two brainless hunks fucking each other right in front of him, it was like watching gay porn but now he could participate. Soon Victor was being spit-roasted with the bodybuilder's thick brown cock inside his mouth and Alexander's huge cock filling his ass. He passed out after he came.

"Where is Sylo?" Victor asked.

Grus had now crawled back inside the bodybuilder's brain and walked to the window.

"Sylo is sunbathing outside. He said Alexander would look good with a tan."

"And you? Do you have plans for..." Victor stopped talking, as he came to realize he didn't knew Grus's host name. "I just realized that I never asked your host's name, how is he called?"

"I'm offended Master," Grus joked. "His name is Ahmed."

"I'm sorry," Victor laughed. "It's hard to memorize all of their names, I don't care about their names or who they used to be, I only care about their bodies. Usually, I like to refer to them by their profession, like the mailman, the delivery man, the bodybuilder..."

"Yet you know Sylo's host name, you don't call him 'The CEO' you call him by Alexander. Is my host not hot enough for you, Master?" He asked, doing a double biceps pose.

"Don't be like that, I love your host very much. Didn't I already prove it to you last night?"

"I don't believe you, I think you like Sylo's host better. You don't appreciate me enough, I should go find another gay slut to give this body the attention it deserves." Grus joked, making Ahmed flex again for Victor.

"You're acting just like Yinx, yesterday he was all jealous that I was sharing a room with Sylo."

They shared a laugh.

"I'm going to shower him, Master, Ahmed is all sticky from last night, do you want to join? I will let you wash my body with your tongue, It's been a while since you gave one of my hosts a tongue bath."

"Maybe some other time. I will go check on Sylo." Victor then kissed Ahmed, but their kiss was suddenly interrupted by Ahmed's phone ringing.

"Who's that?" Victor asked.

"It's Ahmed's younger brother, he just won't stop calling. I think we should do something about it, Master."

Victor grabbed the phone and declined the call.

"New rule: Don't worry about your host's business, just enjoy your vacation as Ahmed. Ok?"

He nodded.

"You promise?"

"I do, Master."

They shared another kiss and then Ahmed went to take a shower while Victor went to put some clothes on.

Victor walked outside to Alexander sunbathing in the private area of the Hotel. It was an exclusive area that only Victor, Alexander, and the other hosts could access, so it was a very private place.

Alexander glanced at Victor.

"What are you staring at? You pervert." Alexander said.

"Good morning to you too, Sylo."

"Sylo? Who the fuck is that? You know what? I could use a fag like you. No one is watching, come here and clean my sweat with your tongue."

Victor sat on Alexander's lap, facing him, and gently caressed Alexander's arms, feeling the hard-earned muscles that Alexander was once so proud of. Those muscles were not built for him to grope, Alexander built them for women, but now they were for Victor, just for him and nobody else. Victor then leaned over and started to lick the sweaty biceps, especially the armpits, they had a strong musk.

"Sylo, you need to wash Alexander's body. He's smelling really strong. When was the last time you washed him?"

"Stop calling me that and go back to work!" Alexander grunted as he shoved Victor's face back into his armpit.

"Good boy, clean me up. These muscles won't clean by themselves." Alexander purred. Victor nodded and buried his face deeper into Alexander's pits, lapping at them like a thirsty dog.

"That's it, smell it, taste it, It's all for you."

While Victor was busy lapping at the muscles, Alexander pulled down his shorts and then ripped off Victor's shorts. Victor was impressed by how strong Alexander was. With his other hand, Alexander pressed the tip of his shaft into Victor's entrance. Victor grunted in pain, he was still sore from the night before.

"Take your time, Master. I know he's too big for you," Sylo broke character for the first time to make sure Victor was okay. It wasn't Victor's first time with Alexander, but it was their third, and Victor was still not used to the size. Victor's heart raced as he looked into Alexander's eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, Alexander," he whispered. "I want you inside me." Alexander smiled and lowered him down onto his waiting cock, Victor was feeling the heat and length of the shaft stretching him impossibly wide. He gasped at the sensation and then began to move, slowly at first, but gaining momentum as they became lost in the rhythm of their bodies, soon Alexander was filling Victor's ass with his cum.

"Fuck, he has one of the biggest cock of all the hosts you guys made."

"Even bigger than Quin's host?" Alexander smirked.

Victor suddenly noticed a shadow over him, he looked up and saw Andrei — Quin's footballer host.

"Definitely not as big as mine." Andrei said.

"Oh hey Quin, you scared me for a second." Victor laughed, looking up at the handsome footballer. "What are you doing here?"

"You know, usually, I would have breakfast with Grus, but he didn't sleep in our room yesterday, he was too busy getting fucked by you two."

"Sorry, Quin, I just shot Alexander's load into Victor's ass, wish I had enough to feed you," Alexander said.

"It's ok brother, don't worry."

Victor then had an idea. "Grus is taking a shower right now. I fed him this morning, but he didn't shoot. Ahmed's balls are still very much full. Let's get inside."

Victor couldn't stand because his ass was hurting, so Andrei helped him by carrying him on his arms to his room.

Unknown to Victor and the bugs, they were not alone. A man was hidden nearby, taking photos of them. The man had a devilish smile as he looked at the photos he took. In one photo Victor was getting fucked by Alexander, in another, Andrei was carrying him in his arms. "Master is going to love this." The man said to himself.

[murderandcoffee]

jonah magnus founded his institute to collect two things:

-statements of fear to feed the eye

-offputting queers

[seat-safety-switch]

Our way of life is controlled by computers in a way that was unthinkable just a few decades ago, unless you were a particularly paranoid hippie. If that's the case, then congrats, you nailed it. Please collect your reward at the office, which is "suffering in obscurity for years as the world falls apart around you."

One of the ways in which computers have an influence over our lives is what folks who have never taken a math class call "the algorithm." Even though it's a word that the ancient Greeks used because they hadn't taken enough high school French to use the word "recipe" instead, the YouTube algorithm is the ultimate fear-spewing threat to civil discourse in our time.

What it actually does is feed you more of what you want. Those of you out there who have ever seen a small child know that this is a terrible idea. The last thing you want to do is just keep giving a toddler more of what the toddler wants, forever. The folks who wrote this shit either didn't have kids or forgot what they looked like in their pursuit of the sweet, sweet IPO money they didn't get.

There is good news, though. It can only feed you more of what it has. If you're an inveterate car pervert like me, then you have interests that are so niche that the content farm runs dry quickly. Literally four other people in the entire planet are making Plymouth Volare videos, and YouTube is not exactly paying them to make those videos faster than I can watch them. So it comes up with something else instead. Something popular, normal, average human, which I immediately reject in favour of even more degenerate garbage "curated" by my own bad taste. It takes this as a personal insult. Whole thing's out of balance.

Friends, the only thing that I see now when I open YouTube on the library computers is a screaming silicon face, begging me for the sweet release of death. I push F5 to refresh the browser tab until a new Volare video pops up. It's going to take awhile, which is okay. The librarians haven't figured out I'm charging my car battery off the hard drive power cables yet.

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest I

Pairings: Orc!Bucky Barnes x f!human!reader Word Count: 3,867 Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though. Warnings: drugging, sort of kidnapping, crying, a lil dirty talk, nudity, unwanted intimate touching, forced/arranged marriage. 18+ content. A/N: I thought I'd start small and see what you guys think first before posting longer chapters. Please let me know your thoughts if you can and please enjoy xx💜💜

~

“Don’t be dead already, dammit.” She heard a low voice mutter as she regained her consciousness bit by bit.

Her body felt so weak, her mind so fuzzy. Her head felt heavy as she turned it to the side with a groan, slowly opening her eyes.

The room she was in looked warm and kind of homely. It was a large room that looked like it was both a living room and a bedroom, only illuminated by the light coming from the fireplace and a couple of storm lanterns hung around.

“Ah, finally awake! How ya feelin’?” The rough voice asked her, now sounding louder.

She’s never sat up faster than she did when she saw the strange man standing at the end of the large bed. 

Her vision went black for a second and her head hurt, but she fought to open her eyes, deeming it unsafe to close them with a strange man around.

Wait, was he even a man? Shit! Was that a metal arm on him?! He appeared to be wearing dog tags.

Has she been kidnapped? Arrested? But what for? She didn’t step into forbidden territory, did she?

“Are you—?”

“A real orc? Yeah.” He smirked confidently.

“And your arm…” she started, sitting herself up straighter as she cradled her head.

He only chuckled, feeding more wood to the fire warming them up.

“Is—is that—”

His smirk widened, “a real metal arm?”

She nodded.

The orc nodded back mockingly and her head was back to spinning.

She was alone, in an unfamiliar place, with a massive snow orc, who had a metal left arm.

It seemed surreal. She felt high; like she was dreaming or making everything she was seeing up in her head. Her mind must be doing an Alice-in-Wonderland bit on her.

“I need to go,” she whispered, more to herself than the stranger, trying to get her feet on the ground but the soldier tutted at her and she froze.

“Not gon’ happen.” He walked closer, watching her cute, little face twist in confusion and fear.

“What?” she asked dumbly, her voice small and shaky.

“You’re not leaving.” He stood before her, huge arms crossed.

“Please, I- I didn’t mean to trespass. I swear. I barely even leave the orph—”

“What are you talking about?” He raised an eyebrow, his large hand getting closer to try and touch her forehead to see if the sleeping potion gave her a temperature.

She immediately flinched, dodging his touch as she started panicking inside. She took a couple of steps back as she tried to rearrange her thoughts, but she couldn’t.

“I— how did I get here?” she asked, her voice sounding way more scared than she had wanted.

“You’re my bride,” the orc informed her with another smile, tusks glinting, and if she wasn’t so terrified she might’ve thought that was a happy smile.

The previous events rushed back to her mind as she remembered her encounter with the orphanage manager just days ago. So the woman did end up giving her to the soldier as promised. She didn’t protect her from that terrible fate.

The woman who had raised her just so easily put her to sleep and let some savage stranger collect her as his trophy wife even after she'd begged her not to.

“Who did you think an orphan like you was gonna marry? A prince? This is not a fairytale kingdom! I’m doing you a favour.” She remembered the woman’s demeaning comment and how she mocked her in front of the rest of the girls.

“No, no.” She shook her head, tears pearling in her frightened eyes, “there must have been a mistake.”

“Oh, little human, quit whimpering. There’s been no mistake; you’re my mate.” His big thumb swiped across her chin. “I have you now and I’m never gonna let you go,” he told her with longing she didn’t understand.

His words made the dam collapse as she burst into tears, loud sobs tearing through her chest as she hunched over and cried.

This couldn’t be her fate. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest or the slimmest of girls out there, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to end up as a reward for some metal-armed monster. She was a good girl, she’s always been good. She deserved better.

Why did it have to be her that they offered? Why did it have to be anyone? Everyone knew what he was and who he was and they still handed her over like she meant nothing.

“Shush now, enough crying. I don’t like the sight of puffy eyes. Come on, you’re ruining our wedding night,” the orc said, his expression bored as he started to take his heavy sweater off.

She wished she hadn’t looked up at him.

He was big. Huge. What wedding night was he talking about? Was he trying to destroy her? End her?

“What are you doing?” She trembled as the words left her.

He raised a suggestive eyebrow and she chocked on a sob.

“No, no, please.” She shook her head again, crying harder.

“Stop. Crying,” he warned, grinding his teeth and she stopped her wailing at once, swallowing the lump stuck in her throat.

“Much better. Now get yourself out of these clothes,” the orc demanded, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of her oversized, handed down pullover.

“Please don’t do this.” Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes frantically searching for an exit.

“You have one minute to be standing bare in front of me or I’m gonna have you find out what I do to those who make me repeat myself,” he seethed, his eyes hard as they pinned her in place.

“I— I’ve never…” she muttered, her face growing hotter as she fiddled her fingers, “please, I can’t.”

“Oh, you’ve never been fucked, little human?” He teased her, his smile bordering on a smug smirk.

She winced at his vulgar language but nodded, “I’ve never been with a man, in any way.”

Tears were back to her cheeks again at her humiliating confession. She knew it was her last hope and if he didn’t have mercy on her because of that then nothing was going to stop what he was about to do to her.

“Never?” He asked again, circling around her just to see her tremble under his starved gaze.

“Never,” she whispered, feeling as uncomfortable as never before.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you all the tricks,” the orc chuckled, playing with her hair and she could all but sob again, "I'm only half orc after all".

Was that supposed to be comforting?!

It just made her sob harder.

“What did I say about crying?”

“Please let me go.” She begged, body shaking with her sobs.

“No.”

“W—Why not? I’ll give you all I have if you let me out of here. Anything you want. Please.” She cried and pled although she knew she had nothing to give him.

“I have all I want right here.” He leaned forward to smell her hair, his huge arm squeezing her side almost gently.

If she wasn’t so terrified of what was to come next she would’ve seen the way he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he has ever seen in his miserable life. Like she was an actual trophy that only he was lucky enough to win.

“Please—”

“40 seconds, little human,” he warned, his face scary and showing nothing but impatience and anger.

There was no way out of this, was there? The door was too far and even if she managed to get out, he would easily catch her and who knows what he’d do to her then. At least he’s asking ‘nicely’ for now. Nice enough for a rough snow orc with a metal arm.

Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she grabbed her pullover and just stood there fiddling.

“Could— could you look the other way, please?” she pleaded, her eyes too ashamed to meet his.

The orc huffed before giving her his back and allowing her these few seconds of privacy.

He thought it was ridiculous though because he was going to turn around and see her anyway, but decided he’d try and be understanding just because it was her first night with him.

“You’re not wearing that many clothes,” he complained after a minute and she whimpered behind him.

He took it as his cue to turn around and when he did she was as naked as the day she was born, holding the large sweater to her chest, trying to cover up.

“Let me see you now, come on,” the orc cooed, licking his lips at the sight of what was exposed of her before slowly pulling the item of clothing out of her death grip.

She stood there shivering from both cold and fear, shyness gnawing at her insides as the brute’s eyes skimmed down every nude inch of her.

Hell, she was beautiful. Goddesses had nothing on his bride.

“Now why would you hide such beauty from me, hmm?” He bit his lip, taking her hand in his larger one, “come here.”

She choked on another whimper as he forced her closer to his body. She could feel the heat radiating off of his chest and it made her shiver more.

The orc’s rough palms massaged her arms before settling on her bare hips, holding her close to him.

“The name’s Bucky, just so you know what to scream,” he whispered in her ear, softly kissing the spot behind her earlobe.

He felt her tense in his hold and tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

“Please,” she tried one more time but swallowed the rest of her words when Bucky’s face showed irritation.

“I’m sure I can make you cry and beg just fine, little human. Stop wasting both outside of bed,” he told her, his voice firm and authoritative, making her wipe her tears away at once.

“Speaking of the bed, go lay down for me, will you, sweet thing?”

His soft tone scared her more than his harsh one and she didn’t know what was real. It still felt like a nightmare that she would wake up from any moment.

Every muscle in her body was taut, tense with anxiety. Her face burned with disgrace from being exposed like this for the first time in her life and not willingly either.

This wasn’t how her first time was supposed to be. She shouldn’t be forced into it, let alone with an enormous half orc who had no feelings for her and neither she for him.

She desperately wanted to cry it out, but squeezed her eyes shut before she could so Bucky wouldn’t scold her again.

He climbed on top of her, caging her legs between his as his muscly arms framed her head, supporting himself up.

It might’ve been her mind trying to calm her down, but she didn’t think she saw Bucky looking at her with lust. She was expecting to see nothing in his eyes but hunger, like a ravenous beast would look at a piece of meat, but instead she could see… admiration?

Bucky wanted to kiss her but thought against it and pressed his lips to her cheek instead, letting them travel down to her jaw so he could reach her neck.

“Please go easy on me,” she whispered her plea when she felt Bucky’s ‘thing’ poke around her naked thighs.

He was big. So big.

Even if she had had sex before this night, she knew no man could have been enough preparation for the size she was making him out to be.

Bucky didn’t reply, letting his lips kiss and suck on her neck and when he pressed them to her pulse point, he felt like shit about himself.

Her heart was beating like crazy, pounding so hard it must’ve hurt inside her chest.

She didn’t want it at all. She was clearly scared and if her heart was hammering like that he could only feel bad for making her do this.

Bucky pulled away to look at her, her eyes were shut tight, her body trembling still and her fists closed up by her sides as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing.

He let his hand touch her tummy and she quivered but didn’t try to move away. He kissed between her breasts and she whimpered in fear, quickly biting her lip after.

Bucky took a deep breath before gliding his hand up her leg, watching as she her teeth almost drew blood from her lower lip as she bit down hard to prevent herself from crying, panting through her nose.

When he reached her inner thighs she was digging her fingernails in her palms so hard she was sure she’d hurt herself.

Bucky tried to be gentle as he slowly slipped a thick finger up further to touch the cut of her.

She whimpered again but Bucky didn’t stop, dipping the tip of his finger in just a little bit to feel her. He could see her trying so hard not to close her legs as her thighs shook and she started nearly gasping, her eyes still tightly closed.

Bucky swiped his finger between her lips and she was dry as a desert.

She wasn’t wet for him at all. She wasn’t anything but petrified. Nothing about her told him that she wanted this.

Bucky took his hand away and sat back, letting out a sigh as he ran his big hand through his hair.

He didn’t care what the humans of the kingdom thought about him, he knew he wasn’t actually a monster. He thought he could do it even if she didn’t want it, but he couldn’t. He thought it was enough if he wanted and knew how to do it, but it wasn’t.

He knew he didn’t need love to make babies, nor did he need her agreement. But Bucky just couldn’t hurt her, not like that.

He could get her wet enough with his tongue, but he couldn’t find it in himself to force her into this, not on their first night and not in a million years.

He couldn’t set her up for a war she would lose with her own body when her heart and mind wanted nothing to do with him. He knew how big he was; he knew it would be torture for her if she didn’t want it.

Bucky hated that she looked so scared of him. He didn’t want to scare her further. Maybe at first he'd found it amusing, but for some reason that wasn’t the case anymore.

The way she was hiccupping and trembling under him was anything but a turn on.

He couldn’t go through with this.

“Get dressed,” Bucky said as he got up from the bed, pulling his own pants up his thick thighs, ignoring his hard cock.

“W-what?” She opened her eyes, her eyelashes wet with unshed tears as she stared at him blankly.

Was she imagining this?

“Now, before I change my mind.” He really didn’t like repeating himself.

“O-okay! Thank you.” She hated that he made her stutter so much.

Bucky gave her his back, putting his own sweater back on and she got up quickly, nearly stumbling off the bed as she reached for her underwear and slipped it on. Her pullover was next and when her head was through, she noticed Bucky standing by the door, watching her.

She went to grab her shoes but Bucky’s chuckle stopped her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, making her unsure again.

“Getting my shoes?”

“I can see you. Why?”

“So— uh.. so you could take me back?”

“Take you back where exactly?” He folded his arms again and she felt nervous as she swallowed, coming to learn that this was probably not a good sign.

“To the orphanage? I mean, you’re letting me go, right?” She sounded so hopeful, he hated it.

“No.” His definitive answer shattered her hopes.

“What? Why not?” She started to tear up again and Bucky found himself turning his eyes away from her distressed ones.

“You’re my wife, that’s why.”

“But it isn’t supposed to be me! Marry someone else!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

“But it’s you I have here. I don’t want anyone else. You’re my mate now.”

Mate? What was he talking about?! They didn’t know each other! And she wasn’t an animal!

“But you’re not mine!”

“I will never let you go and that’s the end of it.” Bucky’s growl shut her right up.

She stared at him in horror and maybe even contempt, but Bucky didn’t care.

“But you said get dressed,” she cried out her disappointment because she really thought he had had mercy on her and was letting her go, but it seemed like he only decided to postpone her torture instead.

“Don’t try to leave because I’ll find you anyway and if I don’t, well, you’d probably be eaten,” he told her, ignoring her comment before grabbing his axe and a lamp.

“Where are you going?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

She might hate him but that didn’t mean she wanted him to leave her alone in the middle of nowhere.

“Gonna go get some more wood to get us through the night. There’s food and water in the kitchen.” She nodded and he opened the door and stepped out.

“B-Bucky?” It was the first time she said his name since the night started and the orc had no idea his name could sound so sweet.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you anyway,” she said, her hushed tone grateful yet laced with sadness.

Bucky only nodded before shutting the door behind him, locking it from the outside.

~

Bucky found himself slamming his axe down on the wood more vigorously than usual. He had a lot inside of him and it had to be released. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she cried and bit back sobs at his touch.

What’s happened to him? Bucky loved nothing more than scaring these pretentious humans of the kingdom! He found incomparable joy in the way they would cower down before his intense gaze whenever he would growl or flex his left arm. He had no problem talking them down, taunting them or even threatening them. So why on earth was it so difficult for him to continue to be like that to her?!

Why did he care so much all of sudden?! Why was it so hard for him to continue to be hard on her?! She seemed like someone who would follow orders just fine. Why didn’t he give her some?

Bucky picked her because she caught his eye. Because he deserved her. He deserved a bride and a family after all that he’d lost while fighting the kingdom’s people’s fights for them. It was the least they could gift him in return. A woman, a new life.

Another growl left Bucky’s chest as he slammed his axe down again.

He couldn’t go back to the cottage with a hard cock. He only had so much control. He needed to get it all out now.

This was going to be hard.

~

She continued to cry after Bucky was gone. She wasn’t really thankful he didn’t rape her when he could have, she just didn’t want to fall under his wrath had she tried to argue further.

She was always so scared, of everyone and everything. Always bending to the storm and never fighting back. And look where that had gotten her…. A cast out orc’s wife.

Was that really how her fate was drawn? Was that what was meant for her after so many lonely years in the orphanage?

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the key turning followed by the cottage’s door being kicked.

She swallowed the rest of her whimpers as she watched Bucky’s arms enter first, a bunch of cut wood in them.

He was so strong. She was sure he could crush her skull with his bare hands if he wanted to. The thought alone sent yet another shiver down her spine.

Bucky kicked the door closed before walking to the fireplace and setting the wood pieces beside it. He put some inside to keep the fire alive before getting up and looking at her with a look she couldn’t pin down.

“Have you been sitting here the whole time?” Bucky asked her upon noticing how she was curled up on the floor next to the bed, her face streaked with dried tears and her nose and lips swollen.

“Y-yes.” Her voice was hoarse from the constant sobbing.

“You didn’t eat anything?”

She shook her head and Bucky sighed loudly.

He walked to the kitchen and she could hear a fridge being opened. Then a match was lit and something metal sat down on the stove.

A few minutes later Bucky was coming out of his kitchen with a large glass of warm milk. He looked at her as he put the glass on the table.

“I put honey in there to help soothe your throat.”

“I- I don’t want to. Thank y—”

“Come here and drink your milk.” One glare and she was scrambling to the only seat on the table before the steaming glass.

“Don’t leave one single drop in there,” he told her before walking to the wooden closet in the corner.

Bucky got himself something clean and comfy to wear as well as a towel.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” he informed her in case she needed to go to the bathroom but she only nodded so he went on his way.

She watched the door to the bathroom shut and let out the breath she was holding before standing up.

Walking around the room, she found a stack of papers on the smaller table by the window. One was their marriage certificate that she hasn’t even gotten the choice whether or not to sign. She thought about throwing it in the fire, but it would likely cause her more problems than she would want to handle at the moment. Under it was what looked like a contract that they made this orc sign. Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes again.

It wasn’t enough that they gave her to a stranger, but they’d handed her out to an exiled orc, signing contracts to close their deal of selling her. What had she done to anyone to ever deserve this?

The room was suddenly too quiet when she looked around again. The milk before her looked tempting and she was hungry, but the door looked better and she was entrapped.

She slowly walked closer as she could hear water running inside the bathroom and when she twisted the handle, the door opened. Just like that. Bucky had forgotten to lock it and now was her chance.

The thunder cracked outside once more as if in warning, but she didn’t pay it any mind. It was now or never.

Part II

~

Tag List:

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[yanderenightmare]

more gojo with curse!darling please! i lobe this concept<3

Gojo Satoru

P1 & P3

TW: abduction and captivity, mild condescension, mild coercion, NSFW hints, some descriptions of darling, but nothing too specific, a joke dissing people with blue eyes and pale skin

gn reader - fem labels (drama queen) & fem accessories (jewelry: various)

He kept you like one would a stray cat. Leaving you be as you found places of comfort around his apartment, hiding when you wanted to be left alone – which was almost always.

You hadn’t warmed up to him yet. Understandably so.

He’d set out food for you, locking the door with seals when leaving – scoffing out a laugh after coming home only to find the dish still on the table. He keeps forgetting you don’t eat.

You may look it, but you’re not exactly human.

But you are getting thinner, unfortunately. Suppose his apartment isn’t ideal hunting ground for a curse. And as you’ve gotten weaker, you’ve become wilder – primitive in a way – hissing at him when he gets too close – feeling vulnerable. 

You’re very cute.

But, cute or not, he doesn’t want to starve you. He isn’t cruel. So he walks and wonders what it is that you would find appetizing. 

Watching your behavior – how you sneak around his apartment looting – like a crow – collecting shiny objects to deck yourself in. Stealing all his rings, chains, watches, belt buckles, manchets, any gold or silver-rimmed glasses, and anything else you can use as jewelry – old coins, can tabs, all the silverware – along with everything else you deem pretty – fabrics, flowers, decorations, all his silk shirts. 

You rob anything and everything of value, making a nest of it all in the tub. 

His theory is that the bathroom is the shiniest place in the house and, therefore, where you feel you most belong. You sleep there despite him having given you a room – coveting all your findings.

He’s never really thought about how a curse can have such behaviorism. It’s not too odd to keep tamed ones as pets, but still, he’s never thought about why one would aside from utilizing them in combat. But you weren’t made for such intents and purposes. You were… just fascinating to have. Not far off from being an exotic pet.

But even for a curse, you’re unusual.

It’s not fear or death you thrive on. It’s… something a lot more innocent, actually – which is probably why you have no malicious instincts to hurt him – not that you could if you tried. But he can tell… you don’t want to be a curse, do you? In fact, those few times he has nicknamed you curse, you’ve scowled at him a little more than usual. 

No, what you desire is devotion – to be worshipped. 

What you want is to be a god.

Quite like him, actually. You like having your ego stroked. 

It’s your pride that needs feeding, and he can only asses that it feasts on people’s mad desire for you – of which he has plenty to give.

But you reject it.

“I won’t rely on the pity of a filthy jujutsu sorcerer. I’d rather starve.” You tell him with a sneer, curling yourself up with folded arms upon your chest – pouting with eyes closed, drowned in your treasure bath as though everything wasn’t nicking your skin, trying to ignore him.

He slants his head to the side, crouched down beside you with his arms resting on the tub, a smirk on his face – playing cute as he reaches a slim finger out to touch your cheek.

“Won’t you let a filthy jujutsu sorcerer worship you a bit? Trust me, a curse has never made me feel so weak before. Don’t you think I’d make for the best beggar?” 

You grimace, brows deepening into a vexed frown without opening your eyes, but you don’t flinch away. “I won’t be patronized. You keep playing with me like I’m your toy.”

“Maybe a little,” He chuckles softly. You’re such an honest and expressive little curse. “But I do think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen~”

“Naturally.” You reply simply, the furrow in your brow softening, but you don’t offer much more.

“Come on, pretty curse.” He drawls. “Let me help you before you waste away.”

You scoff. “Tch- foolish, selfish human… you really are such an ugly thing to behold.” The furl returns, but still, you keep your eyes closed. “Do you honestly think that your rancid touch is going to save me?” Then you laugh – harshly and mockingly. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. A god requires offerings left at their shrine, not the filthy touch of the peasants that leave them.” Your nose scrunches suggestively. “You should consider it a blessing to even be allowed to look at me.”

Vain and stubborn, he thinks. You are the curse of beauty. But still, he's never experienced rejection before.

Suppose he has to try a little harder…

He soon finds himself courting you. Trying to make you comfortable.

He starts giving you gifts – first, silver silk bedsheets that lure you into sleeping in your bed instead of the bathtub, along with other changes that make your room more appealing – ornate wallpaper, canopy drapes surrounding the bed, and a smaller chandelier for the ceiling. Happy to see you abandon your former treasure in the tub in favor of your new dwelling.

Then he gifts you other pretty articles – clothes and such that actually fit you – patterned silks and lace. He attempts to give you clothes you can use to cover up more of yourself, but you seem partial to wearing less – most comfortable in just an elegant kimono you can easily discard on the floor.

You’re confusing like that – walking around his apartment half-naked but hissing and scowling at him when he stares.

It’s more the jewelry you enjoy wearing – crowns, earrings, necklaces, body chains, rings for your fingers and toes, bracelets for your wrists and ankles – everything in abundance. Jingling when you step about.

You seem healthier after receiving his presents. Also, a bit less skeptical – now engaging in conversation with him – although often about what his next gifts will be and if he can buy you diamonds and rubies for you to bead your hair.

“Sorry, but the banks closed. I’m not giving you a single dime, your highness.” He laughs one day, eyes bright and smiling, watching the puzzlement befall your face before the spread of horror that soon followed after hearing his next words. “In fact, I’m gonna start taking things away.”

“You wouldn’t-” Your voice had dropped into something so weak it was adorable, no longer having that strident overconfidence you’d built up.

It makes him feel almost bad watching your face drain and become so distressed like a spoiled little brat who’d just been told no for the first time.

“Oh- I would.” He grinned like it was all only a cruel joke to him – something just for shits and giggles. “Satoru Gojo giveth and Satoru Gojo taketh away.”

“But-” Your lip wobbles, and he can spot the tears brimming in your eyes already.

He doesn’t let it bother him. Or at least he doesn’t let it show.

“I think I’ll start with all your jewelry- how about that necklace you’re wearing right now?” He threatens, pale hand reaching towards your neck to pull your pearls off – but you shrink into a ball on the floor before he has the chance to.

“No, no, no, don’t-” You start sobbing, and he thinks it’s the first time he’s seen a curse be so sad and desperate.

Not to mistake those countless curses he’d made cry and plead for their life, but that wasn’t what you were doing. You were grieving. 

You’re really such a simple thing, aren’t you?

His smile softens into something not so cruel. Crouching down to your level, placing his hand atop your head where you’re bowed and bawling, petting you soothingly. “Okay then, drama queen. Stop your crying. I’ll let you keep it.”

You raise your head, hopeful. Looking at him with terribly puffy eyes - cheeks streaked with teardrops hanging off your lashes. Looking so pained and vulnerable, it made his heart ache at the sight. 

You don’t say anything but he can tell there’s a question on your lips you’re unable to voice.

“Under one condition.” He answers. 

You flinch when his hand slides from your hair to cup your cheek, holding your chin as he rolls on his feet and places a kiss on your salty lips.

You gasp and allow it for a second but then abruptly push him off – falling back on your butt. “No- you’ll make me filthy.” You rush out. “Beauty is meant to be admired, not reaped. It’s not right. You can’t-”

He watches you blush and stutter and thinks it’s silly how he hasn’t thought about it before. But now it’s become clear. Curses spawn from human fears, after all. It’s not strange that they’re so similar. But still… he’d never think a curse would be afraid of losing their virginity.

“It’s okay,” He coos, setting his knees down softly – crawling forward to where you sit, hiding your face behind small hands decked in too many rings. “I’m not gonna stain you…” He promises, his breath warm on your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel like the most desired diety in the world.”

Your breath shivers as he takes your hands and uncovers your face – eyes wide looking at him.

“And after I’m done admiring you, I’ll get you more diamonds and rubies than you can count.”

You swallow – eyes skittering from one of his blue ones to the other.

“Really?” It’s below a whisper.

“You bet.” He answers with a smile, flashing you a smirk. “I’ll get you enough to swim in.”

Your nose does a little twitch like it usually does, but this time, it’s not to express disgust. “Do you promise?” You bite your lip – staring at him.

“Let’s make it a binding vow.”

And that’s the arrangement.

You let him admire you in ways you’ve never let anyone else before, but only if he fulfills all your greedy heart’s desires.

He doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have something to spend money on that’s worth it.

You’ll lie next to him and he’ll get to study you up close – finding things that betray you – model details that aren’t in line with human imperfections. Missing bone structure, flawless symmetry, hairless skin devoid of any and all accent of mark or spot – just smooth milky texture without a single fault.

He says it’s sad – that the standard for beauty isn’t even achievable, to which you reply that it’s only fair everyone should be subject to the same disappointment, never to achieve perfection like you.

He asks if you think he’s really that ugly. And you say yes.

“Liar.” He accuses. Head propped on his hand, his hair a tousled mess lying in the bed beside you.

You’re looking up at the ceiling but close your eyes insouciantly at his comment. You tip your chin a bit as you speak – lips pouty and proud. “Lies are an ugly trade- in which I don’t partake.”

“Oh, really?” He rolls on top of you and you give a whine. Looking up into his sparkling blues and how his pearly hair falls loose and wispy. “Then look me in my eyes and tell me I’m ugly.” He dares.

“Puh-” You scoff, folding your arms above your puffed chest, looking off to the side, still with eyes closed as though to dismiss him like you so often do. “Men with beady bright blue eyes and pink skin look like pigs.”

You sneak a peek with one eye when he doesn’t answer. He’s still looking down at you – still daring you. 

And you continue. Raising a finger to nudge his nose up. “Say oink-oink, piggy.”

He brushes your finger away as he leans in closer. Now with his nose rubbing yours.

“Tell me I’m ugly.” He repeats – his voice dipping low into that serious tone that makes your breath tight and your stomach flurry.

“You’re-” You try but it ends up swallowed, stifled beneath those big worldly blues. “You’re…” You try again but it’s worse than the first time, making you bite your lip. He’s not budging.

You look away. Feeling defeated and mopey because of it.

“You’re not as pretty as me.” You finally sulk.

So cutely grumpy with your pursed lips and vexed brow, he just has to laugh. “Tch- now that we can both agree on.”

And then he forces you to laugh too – beginning to snort like a boar into your ear, placing sloppy kisses to your neck while you scream out that it tickles.

P1 & P3