trinity responds better to positive reinforcement than punishment
baran makes sure to praise even the littlest things. charting looks good. when trinity messes up at work, baran doesnât scream at her, she waits until trinity corrects herself and then praises her for it. good job, now i know you know what to do next time
however, there are times where trinity deserves to get punished, that girl is a brat. makes no difference to baran though, she still gets to praise her girl for how well she takes punishment
youâre so pretty when youâre all bruised up, baby
there you go sweetie, keep crying for me, donât hide your tears, câmon
your cheeks look so red, you took it so so well, my sweet girl
thatâs right, donât keep your sounds from me, i wanna hear you. let mommy hear how you sound when youâre in pain, good job
oh puppy, just keep sobbing, you look so good- sound so good
you look so pretty when mommy ruins you. thank me- thank mommy for making you cry. good girl
this is sillyy so tw for silly but the concept of victoria being cassie's "work wife."
it started as a passing joke between trinity and victoria, a mutual dig at how cassie seems to favour victoria over everyone, and so blatantly too, but then it caught on. victoria starts being called 'mrs. mckay' in their circle, but they all make sure that it doesn't actually reach cassie or any of their attendings because victoria doesn't want to explain her one-sided crush and longstanding pining for cassie, no thank you.
then, mateo slips up.
in his defence, there was an accident. not a big one but big enough to rattle the mundanity of their day.
victoria and cassie are on one of the cases, supporting robby as they work on the worst of the two patients wheeled in. the patient's losing too much blood from a through-and-through puncture from their stomach, but the adrenaline has rendered them awake, angry, swatting away at everyone and yelling when they come close. somehow, victoria got too close and the patient's fist made contact with her ribs.
robby's barking out orders, cassie has stepped back to check on victoria, and mateo, heâ
"aw shit, you okay, mrs. mckay?"
cassie stops, furrowing her brows because mateo should know that she's divorced; in fact, he's known longer than anyone so cassie wonders what's going on. only, mateo isn't looking at her. hell, it isn't even her reply that he is waiting for because the person he's looking atâthe person who replied to his questionâis victoria.
"what?" cassie asks because, seriously, what?
victoria jumps, but so does mateo and the two of them look at cassie with terror. or, well, victoria's looking at her like her whole life just came apart while mateo's shooting her a sheepish grin.
cassie parts her mouth to ask again, but the smell of antiseptic wafts to her nose and she remembers where she is. she turns, meeting robby who is just as confused, before they both fall back to the rhythm of their work.
victoria steps up beside her, wound up so tight that everyone can see she is distracted.
"later," cassie rumbles softly, keeping it private just for the two of them. "for now, we need you focused, mrs. mckay."
victoria gulps, looking at her with so much emotions that cassie feels her gums ache with the need to bite.
A/N: This is just messily written plain smut idk what to tell you. I found this half finished work from nearly a month ago in my drafts, and i cannot lie i forgot what i had planned for it so if its too messy i apologize. I did my best to clean it up and post it as it is. enjoy.
Stifled whines sound out in the room that's otherwise thick with unspoken tension. Your clothes ruffle against the fabric of Wanda's pants as you grind down against the floor, trying to keep quiet like you've been told to. A firm hand grips at the base of your head, fingers wrenching your head back. The sudden movement rips a mix of a whine and a squeak from your throat despite her clear instructions to remain quiet. Your eyes widen upon registering the sound echoing in the room came from you. The apology, paired with a pleading, watery gaze, tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it.
"I'm sorry! wait- I'm sorry, please, ma'am! I didn't mean t-"
"Shh."
Wanda's fingers tighten their hold on your hair to accompany the order. A pat on your head follows in silent approval when your jaw falls shut, swallowing back another apology.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, puppy. Dumb little mutts can't help but break rules, it's in their nature. It's all they can do since they're too dumb to follow through on what is expected of them, isn't that right? That's all you are. Mommy's dumb little dog, hm? Say it."
You squirms, lightly grinding flush against the floor at the condescending tone. Your eyes move about the room, trying focus on anything except the witch that has you on your knees in front of her. Wanda, usually the perfect picture of patience, doesn't take too kindly to her puppy purposefully ignoring direct orders.
"y/n."
The cold, stern tone makes your spine straighten regardless of your wishes. You know the witch has no qualms about using her powers to break you in mentally, but the use of your name alone lets you know it's the only warning you're going to get to keep yourself in line. Your eyes stay glued to the floor as you whisper "mommy's dumb little dog.."
Rough fingers pull your face up so you're forced to hold eye contact with the witch.
"Properly, puppy. Mommy taught you better, did she not?"
"I- Yes, mommy.. I'm Mommy's dumb little dog."
She rewards her pet with a scratch behind her ear. "Good puppy. Don't slip again, you're already in enough trouble as it is."
"I won't, mommy, I'll be so good, please don't make me edge again, please-!"
Wanda disregards the begging, crossing one leg over the other while she looks down at you. "Bark."
You freeze. The accompanying wave of heat that runs through your body makes your walls clench around nothing, desperate for relief. you force a small bark, more of a pitiful whine than it is an actual bark. "Pathetic. Again, I want an actual bark, mutt." You closes your eyes, swallowing what's left of your pride as you bark in earnest. Wanda grins above you, amused and slightly proud at the level of debasement her dog is willing to reach to please her.
"Now you sound like Mommy's dog, darling. Get your cunt back against that floor and remember to ask permission when you're close."
Nodding frantically, you force your body to continue humping the now slick surface. Your movements grow sloppier when you near your peak. You quietly pant against Wanda's leg, resting your head against her knee when it gets too heavy to hold up. Wanda sighs. She looks over her pet whose body language is a dead giveaway that she's a hair's breadth away from her climax. Still, you make no move to show you're about to ask permission for your orgasm any time soon. Wanda truly has no other choice but to get rough with her puppy, you only seem to be begging for it with all your insolence.
You feel your head being pulled back before you hear more than feel a loud slap that forces your face to the side. The silence in the room that follows is louder than the crack of skin against skin itself. The intense bubble around them where time stood still is broken at the whimper that slips through your lips. You look up at Wanda through bleary eyes, confused albeit aroused. She pats your burning flesh firmly before slapping you again. Wanda grasps your face, making her fingers dig into your cheek. The only answer you get is in the form of a question.
"Will you forget to ask permission again?"
The realization of your transgression dawns on you. You stumble over yourself to apologize for it after she lets go of you.
"Too late, puppy. You had your chance. I think you've forgotten that I'm not as merciful nor as lenient as I've let on recently. Again, that's none of your fault, I've simply been too patient with you. Nothing to gain from punishing the dog for it's master's leniency. Don't worry, I'll make you remember, of course"
"wha- no-! no, no, it's my fault! I forgot, Mommy, I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you, I promise!"
"That's enough, puppy. Get up," Wanda clicks her tongue in disapproval when her pet moves to stand, "Don't actually stand, darling. Dogs crawl behind on all fours, don't they?" You drop to the ground, letting Wanda lead you to the foot of the bed. "Sit". Warm tendrils wrap around your hands when you kneel, binding your hands behind your back. You look up in surprise to find Wanda staring right at you, her eyes glowing red as she tightens her magic's hold. Wanda moves to sit at the bed, taking her time in discarding all her clothes, while you watch her do the job meant for you with poorly concealed envy.
"Should've been good when you had the chance, Y/n."
You whimper quietly. Wanda makes you watch as she runs a hand down her body.
"You're not allowed to touch, puppy, you're not allowed to grind. You are to stay perfectly still and quiet as you watch Mommy get the pleasure you were denied of because you couldn't be good for five fucking minutes. If i see you move so much as an inch without permission, Y/n, you will regret it. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, mommy"
"say it."
"Won't move or speak without your permission, Mommy."
Wanda hums in approval, "if only you were this good earlier, love."
You keep your gaze to the ground, "I'm sorry..."
"I know, puppy, eyes up."
As Wanda gets bolder with her touches, her eyes glow red once more. You look confused for a mere second before your legs press together in need. A warm, pleasant, and yet gentle buzz forms right atop your clit. You're left to strain your body so you don't start rutting against the ground. You need to be good. You need to be good for your Mommy. You have to. And you won't disappoint her this time.
"eyes open, puppy."
or, well, you'll try to.
You keep your eyes locked onto Wanda's hand as it disappears between her thighs. It comes into view a moment later, glistening in the low light of the room before Wanda sucks her arousal into her mouth. She moans lowly at the taste, making sure to keep your eyes on her. The fingers, now wet with her saliva, trail down the valley of her breasts. You watch, entranced, as her mouth opens in a silent moan when she begins to play with her breasts. A hand tugs and pinches at her nipple while the other dips below, collecting arousal before she slides it inside her awaiting walls. Wanda begins to pick up her pace, now pumping steadily while her other hand comes to place rhythmic circles around her clit. And if somebody was to point out that she was amping up her reactions to rile you up, well, then, she'd deny it adamantly and take it to her grave. Panting, Wanda looks down to see her puppy barely holding it together under the constant buzz of her magic and the view Wanda was providing for her. A small puddle of arousal was beginning to form under you. Your thighs ached with the effort it took to not grind down and take what you wanted. You had to be good. Wanda suppressed a pleased smile at her pet's thoughts, they really were too loud, she didn't even need to get into your mind.
You watched the rapid rise and fall of Wanda's chest as she worked herself up to an orgasm, a luxury you were denied. Your eyes trailed the single bead of sweat rolling down Wanda's body, wishing more than anything to get your mouth on her.
"Please, mommy, I'll be good! please let me touch you! Pleasepleaseplease- please! Use me, Mommy," You beg helplessly, following with a soft, "Want you to cum in my mouth, please"
Wanda laughs incredulously. "No."
You let out a choked sob the moment your cunt accidentally grazes the floor in your desperation to get free. Your previous goal was quickly forgotten in favor of chasing after some relief from the constant burning ache between your thighs.
"I know your brain is leaking out of your cunt, detka, but are you such an untrained puppy that i have to drill every single instruction into your head?"
Truthfully, the words don't do much besides make you needier.
Wanda stops just before she orgasms. Moving to sit at the edge of the bed, her legs on either side of you on the floor. You channel every bit of your strength to not lap up the glistening cunt that rests inches from your face. You're so focused on being good that you don't realize the magic around your wrists has fallen away. Your eyes remain on the treat in front of you until you realize Wanda is getting up. Wanda walks away, coming back after a couple of minutes, a harness fastened around her hips. She fits a dildo onto it before reclaiming her spot on the bed.
She beckons you over with a nod of her head, a hand gently stroking the cock protruding from her pelvis as it glows red, twitching slightly when the spell has been casted successfully. Before you can comprehend it, your hands are pinned behind your back yet again with the familiar magic.
"Wanted me to cum in your mouth, huh, puppy? Well, you don't have a choice, detka. I'll cum right down this pretty throat either way."
Wanda drags your head down by the hair. Gently coaxing your mouth onto her cock, she groans lowly. The wet heat of your mouth wraps around her head as you suck on the tip, your tongue swirling around the most sensitive part. The sudden intrusion in your throat takes you by surprise as she pushes your head down flush against her navel. Every time you gag, the hand on your head pats you slowly, urging you to breathe through your nose as she keeps her cock sheathed in your throat. To further the humiliation, she guides your head up and down on her cock, using your throat as a cocksleeve to fuck her cock into. Each sensation is intensified for the witch who feels your throat squeeze around her every time you struggle to breathe and every choked noise only spurs her on to be more rough. Both of her hands now cradle your head she begins to set a firm pace of thrusting in and out of your throat. One of her hands trails down to wrap around your throat, feeling her bulge from the outside. Her grip closes up, massaging her cock with every thrust. Spit spills out from the sides of your mouth. The unshed tears burn your eyes when she doesn't slow down. The extent of your suffering remains loud as she works down your throat.
Wanda fucks your face in earnest, her pace faltering as she finally reaches her orgasm. Hot seed paints the inside of your throat when she cums with a wanton moan. She pulls your head back, strands of spit connecting your lips to her cock stretch a sizeable distance before breaking off to fall against your chin. The rest of her cum spurts against your cheek.
"Stick your tongue out."
She lightly slaps the head of her cock on your awaiting tongue before the magic binding your wrists fades.
"Clean up your mess, puppy."
Wanda's cock twitches as you move down to clean the beads of cum that were left trailing down her shaft, still sensitive when you brace yourself on her thighs. She pays little mind to the magic buzzing between your legs, simply waving it away. "Good girl, keep going."
When you're done, she pulls you off and pats your head, murmuring a "Good puppy."
"What should we do with you now, hm? You clearly haven't earned the right to an actual orgasm today. Especially because you used your cunt to think instead of your brain," You deflate visibly, a whine on the tip of your tongue despite knowing better. The glare sent your way is more than enough to quiet you down. "Instead, since you did such a good job lapping up your mess, I'll let you have one orgasm but I'll ruin it before you can even begin to ride it out and then we can call it a day, how's that, darling?"
Before you can protest, she follows up with, "Or you can just go to bed like this, edged out of your mind while your brain leaks all over your thighs. Whatever you want. I'm even being nice and giving you a choice, little one."
Her tone darkens when you take too long to choose, "I can always just spank that cunt red and raw, darling, we both know how much you enjoy that. Would you prefer that?", Her eyes follow the length of your thighs as they press together in need, "Clearly its needed regardless with the way you've behaved recently."
Swallowing thickly, you avoid her eyes. "I'll take the ruin..." Quietly, you begin to narrow down all of her weak spots you can abuse to sneak a full orgasm out of her. Unfortunate for you, truly, since you keep forgetting your girlfriend can read minds.
Wanda grins in response, bringing you up to reward you with an intense kiss, "Wise choice, baby."
Teammates!WandaNat (who has a major crush on Reader) with neurodivergent!R đđ
Whenever you'd lose focus during a task, Natasha would wrap one of her hands around your waist, whispering lowly into your ear what your mind have drifted off from. She never mocks you for this quirk, molding her habits ever so slightly around yours.
Dissociation was a common occurrence for you. If it happens during meetings or missions, Wanda would slowly lean into your ear and whisper: "As much as I love listening to your thoughts malyshka, stay focused alright? After this you can use that little head of yours all you want, and I'll be right there with you."
Occasionally, when the team gets too much for you, or when your surroundings starts getting too loud for your brain, Wanda and Natasha notices right away. Natasha has all your mannerisms mentally noted down, from how you suddenly go quiet, to the dazed look in your eyes. Wanda has it easier, having constant access to your mental state. She senses the detachment in your mind, feels the static in your brain. When and if this happens, their immediate reaction is to get you out of that situation, gliding you out of the room. Once out, they would always, always ask you beforehand whether you wanted them to be physically near you or not. They'd respect your decision, whatever that may be. If you say no, they'd nod and make sure you're somewhere safe to leave you alone, reminding you if you needed anything they'd just be outside. If you say yes, they're already delicately pulling you into an embrace between them, with Wanda hugging you from behind and Natasha gently holding your face with her hands. They say nothing, only focused on you.
Sometimes, when you feel like it, you ramble to them about the things you like. You try to keep these ramblings to a minimum, fear and anxiety overcoming you, but they'd always listen, ask questions, even remember the little details you expected them to forget. One time, when you cut yourself off mid-ramble in fear of being annoying before muttering a quick apology, they had just simply raise their eyes from what they were doing, and questioned why you stopped. You mumbled something about being annoying and was about to leave the room in pure embarrassment, before Wanda snaked her arms around your back, reciting in verbatim of everything you had said in the past 10 minutes into your neck. Before you could process anything, Natasha chimed in, quoting the details Wanda had left out. From that day onwards you never felt embarrassed to talk about your interests again, much to the red head and brunettes delight.
Summary: There are several ways to resolve the rivalry between the Avengers that does not involve fighting. Or, the one where Wanda Maximoff likes to be pinned down by her not-so-secret crush, and somehow this becomes the whole team's problem.
words: 2.944k | warnings: a lot of sexual tension, kissing, hints of rivals to lovers, this is a crack fic - nothing here can be taken seriously, another alternative solution for civil war thatâs better than what they did, nothing explicit but hints of sub!wanda.
A/N-. I found this on my draft, had to translate, and I have no idea what was the inspiration or writing process but I thought it was so funny, so here it is. The name is actually quite self-explanatory.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad
-&-
In Wanda's defense, a sequence of events led to this unsustainable situation.
It probably started a year ago, when she had mind-tricked the team of Earthâs Mightiest Heroes and felt confident enough to try it on someone who was notoriously known for being invulnerable. It was the first time Wanda had been pinned against a wall by another person, and it was the most inopportune situation possible for any feelings other than anger and fear, so of course Wanda had never been so aroused. Things didnât get any better after that, and in her interactions with you in the Avenger routine a while later, she would probably describe you as having some obscure desire to pin her against things.
In training, against the mat.
In the kitchen, against the counter or the fridge, with bad excuses to reach things or just because you wanted to see her blush or traumatize any team member present.
And one notable time, one that haunted her in wet dreams for weeks, against the door of the motel room you were staying in for one of the countless stakeout missions in search of clues about the Winter Soldier.
Wanda was never so grateful for a shared bathroom as the day she saw you in just a towel, hair and wet muscles exposed.
âDamn, wrong door.â You said with an innocent tone, but it didnât seem like you had made any mistakes, the little smile giving away your true intentions.
Wanda, who had just emptied the bathroom for the next in line for the shower, clutched the towel to her body tighter, a nervous giggle escaping her.
She's never felt as powerful as she does now, using all her mental and spiritual control not to rip off those towels and grab you with the entire team to witness.
âDid you save some hot water for me, witchy?â You teased with your hand on the doorframe, too close for Wanda to breathe properly. She had to blink her concentration back, her brain barely able to focus on anything other than your inviting lips.
âHm, I canât say I have it.â
You lick your lips, a smile threatening to escape as Wanda's eyes followed the movement. "No problem, I need a cold shower anyway." That's what you said, using much more of her personal space than you needed to exit the room.
And for the next few weeks, Wanda could only remember that feeling, her fingers tucked deep inside her pants as she bit her lip to keep from whimpering your name to the ceiling.
The fight between Steve and Tony escalated into a catastrophe shortly after that, and Wanda had a little time to focus on other things.
That is until Clint picked her up at the Tower, and informed her that he had two stops to make. Ant-Man was the easy part, he was loud and energetic and kept Clint busy with excited questions about his life as an Avenger.
You were the proof of the gods.
With a leather jacket you got as a gift from Natasha hiding a band t-shirt that in Wanda's opinion, made you look like the most attractive person she had ever laid eyes on, you threw your backpack on the bench and squeezed in next to her.
You didn't have to press your lips to her cheek, but you did it anyway, as if you and Wanda were great friends, and you had missed her a lot in the last few weeks you hadn't seen each other with all the team's drama.
âWhatâs up, witchy?â It was so casual that Wanda almost believed that you two had a real relationship and not a history of arguments, teasing and staring challenges.
Clint didn't pay a second thought to the matter, he was stressed with everything that was happening to the team, and he was pleased that you were joining the fight, especially on his side. Having a demigoddess should mean an easy victory, and hopefully, without much fighting.
Staying under wraps in Europe until it was time to meet Steve at the appointed point was a minefield. Four people sharing a van, two of whom were hormonal teenagers, with some sort of battle going on over who would give in first could easily be one of the reasons Clint Barton wanted to stay retired.
Three hours into the ride, and Wanda let out another sigh from the backseat, and he had enough.
âI swear to god Iâm going to make you walk all the way there.â The hawk warned, stealing a glance in the rearview mirror, quick enough for him to see you move your hand away from Wandaâs thigh. He snorted in disbelief. âThatâs so inappropriate. And disgusting.â
âDonât be homophobic, Clint.â You immediately retort, but the Avenger shook his head, chuckling reluctantly.
âIâll tell your cousin what kind of things you do while other people are around you, young lady.â He threatened but you shrugged, an easy laugh escaping you.
âGood luck trying to slut-shame me to the god of fertility.â Your bratty response made Wanda and Scott hide a giggle.
Clint huffed in irritation. âWhat the hell, thatâs not what Iâm doing!â He defended himself, offended. âI just donât want to be there while you make out with your girlfriend.â
You shrug. âSounds like homophobia to me, man.â
Clint shakes his head indignantly, and tries to look at Scott for some support but the other just shrugs, with an expression that he agrees with your words. The Archer lets out a humorless laugh, and announces that he will stop for food at the next gas station he drives by.
When the stop finally happened, almost an hour later, Clint and Scott practically fled the car.
Wanda thinks she should have at least changed seats.
âCan I ask you something?â She ventured as the noise of the older Avengers talking grew more distant, as they were going to buy food at the convenience store. You hum in agreement, and Wanda swallows hard because she feels your gaze on her. âHow did Barton convince you to join the fight?â
The question takes you by surprise. You change seats, and Wanda almost regrets it, but you do it just to look at her and it's more disconcerting than before.
âWhy wouldnât I join? Iâm an Avenger too.â Apparently, you wanted to see her reaction. Sometimes, Wanda forgot that not everyone could read minds. Especially you, who, although you could resist any of her magic tricks, didnât have the same abilities to do them on other people.
âI know, I meantâŠâ She thought for a moment about the right words. âI just got the impression that Thor advised you to stay a little distant from things like that. He himself doesnât seem to be around much for this kinda of⊠human and bureaucratic stuff.â
You click your tongue. âIâm human, Wanda. Half, but still.â
âI know!â she snaps back, her cheeks hot. âI just meantââ
âI know what you mean, Iâm messing with you.â You cut her off with a giggle, gesturing slightly. âIâm flattered, you know? That you think Iâm so strong and amazing, so superior to all of this.â You make an exaggeratedly theatrical expression, and Wanda laughs with an eye roll.
âOh, shut up.â She retorts, and manages to make you smile too. The lightness of the interaction changes the second after this dialogue ends. You look at her in a different way, more intense and vulnerable, and Wanda swallows hard. She feels like she wants to say a million things at once, but itâs you who speaks first.
âYouâre right though, I wasnât going to get involved.â You say, your typical confidence failing for the first time since Wanda met you. âDiplomatic immunity and Asgardian royalty perks or something like that.â You joke with a weak laugh, but something about the way youâre saying it makes it impossible for Wanda to laugh, let alone breathe properly. âClint only had to use two magic words to get me on the team.â
She swallows hard, her stomach flipping. âWhat words?â
You smile at the corner of your mouth, not meeting her eyes for a moment. And then you sigh deeply, and look at her. âWanda Maximoff.â
The breath that escapes her is shaky and faltering, and you hold her gaze until she gathers her courage. You wait patiently for Wanda to approach, and you don't move at any of her hesitations, until she sighs and grabs the collar of your blouse, pulling you in with determination. Despite the urgency, the first kiss is not rushed. You let her get used to the feeling first, and pull away before Wanda has a chance to protest.
But when you dive back in the next second, you take control. Your hand cups her jaw and your mouth is hungrily against hers, teeth and tongue, devouring every whimper of need she gives you. Youâre not immune to Maximoffâs charms either.â You gasp at Wandaâs taste, brow furrowed as if youâre physically unable to pull away.
But you have to, because Clint and Scott can't make a purchase longer than eight damn minutes.
The veterans climb into the car, and the archer turns to the back of the van to deliver the food and catches a glimpse of your disheveled appearances and uneven breathing and grunts of disbelief.
âFor the love of god, I donât even want to know. And donât you dare touch my stuff!â He says, throwing the snacks into your laps as you and Wanda struggle to hide your giggles.
-&-
The plan was to sneak out, but Stark closed the airport. Steve's order was for everyone to put on their suits and follow him, but Wanda ended up trapped between the closed door of the van and your body.
âEverything okay, girls?â Captain America asked uncertainly, and without moving away, you forced a smile at Steve.
âSure, Cap. Iâll just wish Wanda a good fight. Weâll catch up with you for a grand entrance, I promise.â Itâs practically a warning that youâre going to do this regardless of Steveâs permission, so he clears his throat and waves for the team to follow him ahead.
The Avengers have barely finished walking away - she can still hear Clint complaining that the two of you haven't let go of each other when you lean your face down and kiss her.
She doesn't know what she expected, but she certainly doesn't feel prepared for this kind of kiss. Sloppy and charged with lust, just a few hours after she experienced the sensation of having your lips for the first time.
Your firm hands on her waist and the extra support of the van are the only things keeping her upright. Her wobbly legs gave out at the first bite of her lip, three kisses ago.
Between one gasp and another, and this because neither of you wants to let go, Wanda tries to remind you of what they are doing in Germany.
âWe have to go. The others. The fight.â Each word comes between one kiss and another, and sheâs not even trying to open her eyes, because you drag your mouth down her jaw and start pressing your lips to her neck with enough intention to make her arch her body towards you and forget the world around her.
Though you look equally affected, you manage to break the caresses with a husky chuckle. âWho the hell came up with the idea of adding a damn corset to your uniform, Wanda?â
The question makes her bite her lip, especially since she catches the way your gaze is fixed on her collarbone.
âI chose it myself. Donât you like it?â She teases with false innocence, baiting you by puffing out her chest in your direction.
Your fingers reach up and pull at the limit of what the corset's laces will hold without opening, the gesture being suggestive enough for Wanda to tremble.
âI loved it, thatâs the problem.â You murmur, evidently aroused, your mouth marking her skin again. âHow do they expect me to fight with you looking like that around me. All I can think about is undressing youâŠâ A soft bite on your lobe, and Wanda moans directly into your ear. âGod, I could fuck you right here.â
âThereâs no time.â She pants back, but your grip tightens a little and Wanda is sure that if you try to take her clothes off in the middle of this parking lot, sheâll help you.
âWe can make time.â
But your whispered phrase carries a meaning she canât ignore. She struggles to push her arousal away and manages to retort a hoarse âWhat?â
Your hands reach inside the suit's jacket, and move downward. Wanda gasps as she feels them on her ass, squeezing the flesh and forcing your hips together. The sensation is so delirious that she almost forgets she asked a question.
âWe can kill time if we let the boys fight alone.â Your voice combined with all the attraction sheâs kept secret for so long is like a siren song taking her mind to places far removed from Avengers intrigue, and more like beds or mats. Or anywhere you can press her, including this car. âRomanoff knows how to take care of herself, and the others wouldnât even notice.â
âYes, they would.â She retorts with a soft laugh before pulling your mouth back to hers. Kissing her again wakes something in you. Your hands go frantic, tugging and squeezing, and Wanda finds herself pressed completely against the iron door with one of your legs between hers. The softest press of your knee against her core makes Wanda gasp in a whimper.
You break the kiss to rest your forehead against hers. âYou sound so beautiful when you make those sounds.â But she needs to put more distance between you, because she wonât be able to stop if she doesnât do it now.
âWe canât.â She insists, one hand on your stomach to gently push you away. âNot now. And not here.â She sighs at the dark look in your eyes. âWe gave you our word that we would help.â
For a moment, it looks like youâre going to ignore it, your lips brushing together, teasing away whatever sanity she has left. But then, you kiss her cheek and pull away, and Wanda would have slid down to the floor if it werenât for vanâs support.
âOkay, Iâll help.â You declare with a determination that makes Wanda swallow hard.
She barely has time to work on her appearance and has to rush to catch up with you, sprinting towards the team.
You missed the grand entrance - Things were about to start, and you interrupted a spider-clad teenager with an energy pulse that threw him away and kept him pinned to the ground.
âSorry guys, Iâm really busy today.â You announced. Everyone looked at you in shock, Tony seemed genuinely surprised to see you pick a team, and Steve seemed worried that you had changed your mind. When you started fighting with everyone, things got even more serious.
But Wanda didn't even have time to think about what it all meant; she realized that you weren't hurting them. You were bringing them together, to face them all at once.
Vision was probably the only one there who could do any damage due to the Infinity Stone, so she needed to keep him under control.
And with Spider-Boy safe and immobilized just like Vision, you screamed to the heavens.
âHeimdall, letâs take my friends for a ride!â
The Avengers only had time to widen their eyes. The transport was almost immediate.
Wanda closed her eyes, as shocked as the others, but the trip was actually smooth. While half the team was still fighting on the rainbow that led to Asgard, you held her by the waist, and the landing was calm and coordinated.
Steve was the first to approach you, as furiously as everyone else. âWhat do you think youâre doing? Send us back right now! We have to-â
âSorry, Iâm on vacation.â You cut him off, shrugging. Your hand is clasped in Wandaâs, whoâs standing behind you.
The team all stands around, angry and surprised. Steve gives an incredulous laugh, but Tony actually laughs.
âWow, thatâs impressive, Rogers. Seriously, this time you outdid yourself in the worst decisions you could make. You didnât think about what could happen when you called her to fight, she has the maturity of a ten-year-old!â
âWow, and you can talk about maturity, canât you Tony?â
You rolled your eyes, leaving them behind, cursing each other. Natasha was trying to stop King T'Challa from attacking Bucky, but none of them had a way out of here. Rhodes took off his armor helmet and was commenting on how huge Asgard was with Sam, while Clint tried to get a cell phone signal to warn Laura that he would most definitely be late. You think Ant-Man was trying to take pictures, but you got distracted by Wanda on the way through the Bifrost.
âAre we just going to leave them?â She asked, glancing at the irritated team.
You shrug. âYeah, Heimdall will keep an eye on them. And when they calm down, the palace awaits. And you will see my royal chamber now.â
Wanda purrs, her cheeks flushed. âYouâre getting pretty confident.â She teases, making you smile.
âIâm just inviting you to a late-night fondue.â You joke, and itâs Wandaâs turn to chuckle before pressing her lips against yours.
Some of the Avengers complain in the background but none of you are paying attention to them anymore.
Summary: Wanda likes you on your knees. You're also a fan.
Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, deepthroating, magic cock, come swallowing, choking/gagging, mommy kink
WC: 1,356
A/N: fic is below the cut as per usual â have fun! (i fear y'all may be left high and dry for a bit since it's midterm season)
Spit runs down the side of your mouth, and you flick your eyes up, distantly aware of the red glow in Wanda's eyes. All you can really feel, all that anchors you, is the feeling of Wanda's fingers, pressed against your hair. Her palms are clamped over your ears as she scratches lightly against your scalp. She's exerting just enough force to pull your head down, keeping you anchored.
Well, you can feel that, and the pulsing strap-on stretching open your throat.
Wanda's magic has always been a wonder to behold, and this faux, enchanted cock is certainly no exception.
You moan lowly as Wanda pulls you down harder, her hips bucking up, her throbbing length sliding in deeper and stoppering any of your attempts to breathe. It's a delicious sort of torture, bending to her every whim, fully puppeteered by just her hands and fingers.
"You feel so good," Wanda moans from somewhere above, the words faded and distant, warped, as if they're coming through water.
The haze clouding your thoughts thickens as the glowing strap presses deeper. You groan again, the sound muffled around the intrusion, desperate for a breath of air. Well, moreso for Wanda to come already. It's all you've been waiting for all day, ever since Wanda left in the morning.
Wanda pulls back again, fingers gentling where they hold the sides of your head. Her fingers brush underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears that have collected there as she coos down at you.
"My good girl, taking it so well."
You moan, hoarse and needy, and run your tongue up the length of Wanda's cock, pausing to suckle softly on the tip. The motion elicits a soft gasp, and Wanda's hips twitch up, inadvertently pushing the cock back down your throat.
"Detka," she murmurs, hands stroking your face as you try your best to open your throat for her. The thick intrusion pulses against your tongue, and you hum softly, face warm and mouth content as drool slips out past your lips.
In your eagerness to take all of her at once, she bumps against your gag reflex. You react viscerally, more tears streaming down your face, but Wanda's suddenly firm hands don't allow any wiggle room. She holds your head in place, crooning softly as the feeling subsides, for you to swallow it back down. Only then does she pull back, a sickly sweet smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.
"You're doing so well for me, pretty girl" she coos.
The only response you can provide is an unintelligible burble of noise. She doesn't wait to hear your messy sounds, fucking right back into your mouth, slow, agonizing, and filling. It's all you need for your mind to go completely blank.
Wanda moans again, and then begins to set a steady rhythm. The slick noises of her thrusting echo around the empty room as she pulls the faux cock back past your lips. She watches with keen eyes when you lean forward, tongue swirling around the head of her strap as you chase the rest of the length.
The shlick pull is closely followed by a familiar muffled, choked noise as she thrusts back in, bumping the back of your throat and sliding down as far as she can. Her fingers are sticky where they rest against the sides of your face, your spit coating her fingertips.
It takes a few tries, and your eyes are red by the time Wanda manages to succeed, but soon enough, she's able to bottom out completely. Your nose brushes against red curls as she presses in to the hilt, filling you to the brim.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you completely bliss out. The heat of arousal pulses between your legs where a pool of slick is slowly forming. Your cunt throbs in time with Wanda's harsh thrusts, and you moan as she takes and takes and takes.
"My pretty girl, aren't you?" she croons. "So good for me. Such a nice little throat, all for me to use, hm?"
Her voice is devastatingly saccharine, sweet and poisonous even as she lavishes compliments on you.
You nod weakly, moaning as Wanda pulls you in again, fingers grasping at your hair as she fucks down the length of your throat. She keeps you pressed there, unmoving, unable to breathe, watching as your face cycles through shades of red, magenta, and purple before she pulls back again.
"Such a sweet girl," she hums.
You lave the head of her cock with your tongue eagerly, always seeking to please, and make a mess of yourself between your thighs.
"Do you want mommy to come?" she asks, light and airy. Casual. As if she's asking what you want for dinner.
You nod eagerly, cheeks hollowing out as you suck on the tip of her cock, eyes rolling back when she arches and you're fed several more inches of warm silicone.
"Mm, hold on for me, detka," she murmurs.
And then Wanda pushes back in, slamming into your throat before she's back out again, tip hovering just behind your teeth. Your jaw feels sore as she pulls back out and shoves back in, fucking your throat for all you have.
She fucks violently, passionately, desperately. All the things you love so much about her. She huffs sharply, panting as you take her cock over and over and over again. Before long, you can feel her pulsing harder, throbbing and leaking pre-come so heavy you can barely swallow it.
You moan around her, hoping to spur her on and encourage her orgasm, and Wanda's hips shiver where she's pressed against you. She whimpers high in her throat, the first real reaction you've been able to elicit. When you whimper in response, she keens into the air, head thrown back. Hilted fully in your throat, Wanda rotates her hips just slightly, moaning when you make a choked, garbled noise. Her cock throbs harder, and you're just trying your best not to pass out.
This isn't anything new. Every time you offer a blowjob, she takes full advantage, holding her enchanted strap in as long as she can, as long as you can take it. You wait it out, feeling your lungs run empty, vision blurring. She pulls out, and a rush of cold air fills your lungs. Relief before she pushes back in again.
You bring your hands up, shaky and trembling, and press softly at the base of her cock. She shivers again, and you moan in response, causing her to tremble over and over again, a feedback loop of stimulation until finally, finally the dam breaks. Wanda stiffens entirely, and you can feel the blush high on your cheeks as your breath runs thin, and then her faux cock throbs one last time before you feel thick come pulsing down your throat, deposited directly into your stomach.
She pulls out a little after the first few pulses and pulls your mouth open by the teeth to watch with lidded eyes as her cock pulses the remainder of her come out onto your tongue.
You moan and close your mouth when her fingers retreat, sucking on her softening cock to milk her dry. Wanda taps on your cheek again, and you open your mouth, watching as her eyes glaze over at the sight of your full mouth.
"My pretty girl," she murmurs, hushed and exhausted, cock flagging once.
"You can swallow now," she hums.
You acquiesce, feeling the way warmth travels down your neck, settling somewhere lower. A new heat, joining the one that's resting between your loins.
"Mommy," you murmur, reveling in the sticky tanginess of her come clinging to the back of your throat. "Will you fuck me now?"
Wanda grins with all her teeth, sharp and gleaming in the dim lamplight of the bedroom, and yanks you to your feet. She pulls you down into her lap and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, her lips plush and heavy over yours.
your daughter dreams of a middle-aged woman taking advantage of her and using her whatever way she wants to and then praising her for being a good girl
A/N: this is basically just me talking to myself, so enjoy !!
- Emily is the biggest softy outside of the bedroom, she loves to cuddle and give lots of affection. Physical touch is definitely one of her biggest love languages. The early days of your sex life with Emily reflected that soft nature, but the harder you fell for each other, the more she let loose.
- Emily definitely has a strong libido, she can go for literal hours upon hours. Every position on every possible surface.
- Sheâs a very generous lover, no matter how stupid that saying might be⊠itâs definitely true for her. She absolutely loves getting you off. Your pleasure is her top priority, she loves listening to the sounds you make and how your body reacts to the way she touches you.
- Emily is the ultimate champion when it comes to giving head. The womanâs mouth is literal magic, her tongue is so soft and attentive, and she loves to practically bury herself in it. Just rubbing her face all up in there, using her nose, her lips⊠phew!
- on the topic of Emily giving head, she definitely loves it when you sit on her face. She wraps her arms around your thighs and forces you to put your weight on her⊠guiding your hips over her mouth and yâknow that nose comes out to play!! She does not care if she suffocates⊠she will die and happy woman.
- Emily is also very skilled when it comes to handling a strap on. She definitely has lots of motion, and she knows just how to hit those perfect spots.
- She loves it when you ride her strap, just so she can stick her face between your tits, kissing, licking, biting, sucking hickeys all over your chest and playing with your nipples. She also loves being able to watch your face above her, just the sight of you so deep in pleasure is enough to get her off.
- Doggy is where her true talents lie⊠she loves to just absolutely man-handle you. Wrapping her arms around your stomach and just plowing away. She definitely also uses your hair as grip, pulling you up against her chest so her free hand can run over your body, teasing and groping
- Sheâs definitely vocal during sex, talking you through it⊠asking if sheâs doing well, if she feels good inside you, what you want her to do⊠she makes a lot of sounds when sheâs fucking you too; panting and groaning in your ear while she fucks you with her strap⊠whimpering when she feels just how wet you are for her.
- Sheâs a biter, whether itâs as a simple gesture of affection or when youâre actively having sex. She loves the marks her it leaves on your skin, and the moans and whimpers you let out when she does it.
- BIGGEST TEASE EVER!! She loooooves getting you all worked up, and god knows sheâs good at it. She loves coming up behind you in the kitchen and putting her cold hands under your shirt, running her fingers along your waist band (imagining this meme), leaving innocent little kisses on your neck, knowing just how much they rile you up.
- Emily can also be very needy when she wants to be. Sometimes she just needs a break from control, and she loves letting you take care of her. She makes the prettiest sounds when she cums, tiny little whimpers and pants as she claws at your back, pulling you in for that extra pressure to ground herself.
- Sheâs very possessive when it comes to you. She might not let it show to the public, but she gets very jealous when people try to flirt with you⊠that jealousy often leads to very long nights of aggressively passionate sex⊠her leaving marks all over your body and fucking you into the mattress to the best of her ability.
- when she gets rough during sex, she gets rough. She can be quite fond of impact play, whether it be slapping your ass or your face with her hand, or using a paddle or flogger on you⊠she is also a fan of choking, not so much breath play, more so giving you that delicious light headed rush.
-eye contact. God those eyes⊠she loves holding eye contact when she eats you out and especially when she fucks you in missionary.
âŠ
A/N: let me know if I should make a pt.2 of this⊠đđ
thinking about emily forgetting words and stammering at home when her professional front is down. listen, she knows seven languages i know babygirls head is a mess when she isnât in work mode.
Having a conversation with her and she sort of trails off, âthe thing with the wings⊠in the air.â sounding a little exasperated.
âbird?â
âthe metal version.â
âa plane?â
âyes! a plane!â and then she just gets back into the flow of conversation.
i fear this would be the norm for her partner or roommate or friend or anybody who sees her outside of âagentâ mode. and they all just kinda flow with it. itâs not that sheâs dumb, or uneducated, itâs the opposite!! sheâs so knowledgeable in so many different cultures and languages that the abstract things tend to escape her!!
my source? trust me bro⊠just kidding!! i speak various languages and i forget words all the time so this is me projecting :3
this is dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.
The day was cold and bleak. The air had a frostiness to it that manifested in a sheen of white over the long-dead grass that had yellowed at the passing of autumn. The leaves scattered around were no longer vibrant reds and oranges but rather dulled browns. The trees were barrenâdark, crooked cracks in the grey skyline. You noticed a pack of buzzards eating at roadkill.
Death.
Christmas was just around the corner but, unlike everywhere else in the country, this town seemed to not be celebrating much. Youâd noticed that the very first time you drove throughâthis sort of head-down feeling about the place that differed so much from what it looked like. The town itself was charming and cutesy with so many little shops and beautiful gathering spaces. It was colorful, too. But something about it seemed greyed, like a ghost town almost except the people were still there. They didnât talk much, especially not to outsiders apparently. They only whispered to each other with concerned faces and low voices, like they were afraid something lingering around in the air would hear them. They held their children very close to them.
So it wasnât exactly the neighborliness of Westview that attracted you to move there. The town felt like something very dark had happened in a place that otherwise was a great place to live.
To be quite honest, the housing market in that town had taken a sudden dip down in the past couple months. You didnât understand the housing market and thought maybe people just didnât like to buy houses in the winter, but there were a few neighborhood roads that had recent For Sale signs up in every yard. Itâs like people were evacuating the town. Running from something.
There was a specific house, actually, that had taken a steep dip down in price. It was put up for sale a couple months ago for a shockingly low price. You were stunned when you found out there were no bids, no one who had showed interest since itâd been put up. It was a beautiful house, a perfect family home. Not that you had any family to put in it. It was just you, but you liked space.
And for a price that cheap? In a quiet town away from the city? You couldnât pass up on it. You were anxious, anyways, to have somewhere to yourself. Crashing on your friendâs couch wasnât exactly the most glamorous post-breakup living arrangements, but the apartment lease was in your exâs name.
Now you stood, on this dreadful day, in front of that house. You couldnât help but feel like the windows were eyes staring at you, measuring you the way you were measuring it. Evaluating, judging. Maybe your confidence was just shot from all youâd been through the past few months. You had a house now. It was time to make it into a home.
It didnât so much seem like the dark energy of town had made its way into your house, but rather that the house was some sort of energy field pushing it out into the town. This was a strong assumption to make, but as soon as you walked into the front door, you could feel it. The air was thick with something more than just the dust of time. It was still. So still. You could feel the still air on your face like a thick cloud of smoke that wasnât there. It was energy brimming all around you. It made your stomach turn.
You couldnât lie and say that you didnât feel this eerie energy when you viewed the house. You felt it from the very beginning, but you just needed somewhere, and this house was the only one in your budget.
Cursed, is what the local kids called it. It was cursed because of the family who lived there. When you questioned your real estate agent about it, she sort of brushed it off and said that they just disappeared, that whatever happened to them, happened outside of this home.
You were reluctant to believe that story, but you were a skeptic anyways. If a young family had been axe murdered here or something, it was still just wood and brick to you.
The first few days in the house were busy. The moving company was taking all your stuff from your exâs apartment and moving it into your house, which meant you had to deal with her calling you and screaming that she definitely bought that chair even though you distinctly remembered ordering it for the living room. You hated having to speak with her, with all her narcissistic tendencies. As much as you mourned the relationship, you mourned how stupid you were for ever putting up with so much for so long.
The house apparently was built in the 50âs and hadnât been touched since besides the usual renovations every decade or so, which you enjoyed. Older houses had so much more character, like the adorable little partition window between the living room and the kitchen. You opened and closed the little shutters, imagining what 50âs housewife used this for so many years.
So you didnât have much time to dwell on that eerie energy in the house while the movers brought everything in, until they left. And it was just you and those walls.
Luckily you could focus on unpacking all the boxes stacked around. You did so dutifully, and since you really had nothing else to do, you finished pretty quickly. By the next day you were untaping the last box which was full of random childhood artifacts. Trying to think of where you could put these things that you wanted to keep but didnât really want just lying around, you suddenly realized that this house had an attic. The agent had vaguely pointed to it previously but you had never went up there.
Going upstairs, you opened the attic ladder and carefully climbed up the rickety thing, instantly inhaling thick layers of dust as your head entered the dark attic. To your surprise, you saw a few boxes lying around.
âHuh,â you murmured with interest as you swatted away cobwebs, the floor dangerously creaking beneath you as you approached the boxes. Whoever took the previously familyâs stuff out of the house must have forgotten about the attic, which you found strange. Were they in that much of a hurry to get in and out?
Crouching down, you wiped the thick layer of dust off the box. How much dust could have accumulated in a matter of months?
None of the boxes were taped, only folded shut. Was it wrong of you to look through their stuff, especially since they were basically considered dead? To be fair, the house was yours now, and you needed to put some stuff up here. So you opened the box and looked inside.
This one was full of different colors of fabric. A red fabric crown of some sort, green tights, a blue headband, a can of silver spray paint for hair. Halloween costumes? All of superhero-esque kind?
Opening another box, this time you find some sort of fake lobster. A doorknocker? Thereâs some baby stuff in there tooâa book about the psychological effects of pregnancy, a crib mobile made of butterflies. You go through all this stuff, the usual family keepsakes that the mother was too sentimental to throw away, until you suddenly come across something starkly different.
A book, but a different kind of book. Itâs at the bottom of the box, and itâs heavy. The front is dark and somewhat torn with strange inscriptions on it. Heaving it out of the box, it falls into your lap with a cloud of black dust. What the hell did a family have to do with this? It looked more like a Halloween decoration than anything.
Mindlessly flipping it open, you saw that the pages were full of language you did not understand. Markings, almost, like hieroglyphics. Symbols. You come across a page that has the only recognizable thing you seeâthe figure of a woman, hair flowing, seeming to levitate on the page. This page is much darker than the rest, and the corners more torn. Like whoever read this book always seemed to seek out this specific page.
A sudden popping noise that sounded like weight on a floorboard startled you, made the book fall (it felt more like it leaped) out of your hands. You turned around to see nothing but the dark empty attic.
It was much too creepy up there.
Leaving your box of childhood memories up there and deciding to swap it out for this strange dark book, you carefully climbed back down the ladder and closed it.
The air felt thicker than ever now. Vibrating. Like it had just woken up.
àż
You were mostly settled. Things still felt weird in the house, even after you put up every decoration you owned, but you figured it would go away with time. Youâd been living off takeout the whole two weeks, hence the pile of Chinese takeout boxes in the corner of the kitchen. Deciding to go shopping to have some real food in the house, you pulled on your jacket and stepped out into the bitingly cold air. There was even a harsh wind, too, that made your nose hurt. Hugging yourself, you walked down your driveway and noticed a woman standing in the yard of the house next to yours. It was one of the few houses still lived in on the street, and you hadnât even seen your new neighbor until now.
It was a middle-aged woman checking her mailbox. You struggled internally to decide if you should say hi or not, knowing that being all alone in a strange town was probably not the best idea, but something told you to just keep walking. You almost made it to your car until suddenly you could see her head snap towards you out of the corner of your eye. Instinctively, you froze, looking across the yard at her and seeing that she squinted her eyes suspiciously at you.
âH-hello,â you weakly greeted, shivering from the cold.
âWho are you?â the woman called out loudly, turning her body fully towards you now as if she was braced to defend herself. Great, a crazy neighbor.
âIâm y/n. I just moved in.â You tried to give a smile as you pointed to the house.
Looking between you and the house, the woman hesitated before walking towards you. Wishing youâd just ran to your car and left, you tried to be polite as she approached you.
âItâs nice to meet you,â she said gruffly, sticking out her hand which shook yours rather aggressively. You noticed now something neon green on her hipâa watergun? âDetective Agnes. I work for the FBI. Iâm working on a murder case here.â She pulled out a black wallet and flipped it open towards you. You knew that there was supposed to be a gold FBI badge there, but it was only a CostCo membership card for someone named Ralph.
âOh,â you mumbled as she sighed officially and put her âbadgeâ back in her pocket. She was also wearing a purple shirt with a picture of Dolly Parton and the word âJoleneâ on it. Who the hell was this woman?
âBetter be careful, newbie,â she said, pointing to your house. âThe kids love to egg this house. Donât worry though, Iâve got top of the line security system.â She nodded proudly and pointed to the roof of her house, which you noticed had one solitary print-only Polaroid camera haphazardly duct taped to it.
âOh,â was all you could say again, feeling the intense urge to run away.
âUnfortunately the department frowns on tasering the little shits even though itâs what those punks need to set them straight,â she said, stretching and tapping on the other side of her hip, which had a toy car on it that she apparently thought was a taser.
Nodding slowly, you started backing away to your car. âOkay, well, itâs nice to meet you.â
âYou, too, young lady. Be safe out here. Itâs a crime-ridden place.â She dramatically looked around the nice, quiet neighborhood as if she was looking at Gotham City and went back to her mailbox. You got in your car and sped away.
Westview only had a tiny market in town. It was liminal with its old linoleum floors and flickering green LED lights that buzzed overhead. It smelled slightly of rotting meat. You wondered if you could steal Detective Agnesâ fake CostCo card.
It was deserted in there, too, besides the drunk clerk with a scruffy beard who stared blankly at you. This was the point where you started to realize the citizens here did not take well to new people.
In fact, you had noticed the only other shopper in there seemed to be following you around. You didnât feel in danger, given that it was just an older lady in a sweater buying fig newtons, until suddenly she came out from the other aisle and slammed her cart into yours.
âHey!â you yelled out, looking at the older lady with short blonde hair.
âGet out while you still can!â she whisper-yelled, her eyes pleading. âYouâre going to die!â
âExcuse me?â
âRun! Get out of that house, get out of this town! Wanda! Sheâs going to kill you! Sheâs going to kill us all!â
She was screaming now, eyes tearing up, knuckles turning white as she gripped her cart. You stared at her, wondering if you should call the police, until suddenly her face changed into a pleasant one.
âOpe! Sorry, dear! These carts have a mind of their own!â She let out a cheery little cackle before wheeling her cart away, going down the aisle to look at the Pop Tarts.
You stood there dumbfounded for a moment before deciding to just leave and go to Eastview for your shopping needs.
àż
Your ex thought you werenât worth much, but you knew she had to miss your cooking. Cooking was an art to you, a hobby you enjoyed sharpening your skills in. Tonight, since youâd been living off of leftover orange chicken for days, you were making a nice ribeye with lemon green beans and garlic mashed potatoes. A comfort meal. Maybe it would cheer up the angst-imbued house.
The interaction with your neighbors, specifically with the lady at the market, was unsettling. Why was she telling you to get out of that house? Who the hell was Wanda and why was she going to kill everybody? Was everyone in that town cracked out or out of their mind?
It was a little cozier, admittedly, as you were cooking that night. The kitchen had plenty of space for all your cooking tools and equipment, which you had a lot of. They were precious to you, so you had spent almost an entire day arranging them in all the drawers and cabinets.
You limited the lighting in the kitchen to the oven range and the little lamp in the living room. Setting your phone up, you let classical music fill the air as you prepped your steak while your potatoes finished boiling.
You felt calm and at home for the first time in a long time.
Until you started hearing a strange clicking noise.
Your first instinct was to check the oven since this was your first time using it. The clicking was not coming from there. You listened all around in the kitchen until you realized it was coming from the living room. Looking through the partition, you saw that the floor lamp on the other side of the living room was flickering.
Your pot of potatoes steaming and boiling, your steak left on the counter, you emanated through the flip door into the living room. You had just put a bulb in that lampâno way it was dying already.
The closer you got to the lamp, the more it flickered. Faster and faster, causing your stomach to fold into anxious knots, until finally you lunged and turned it off all together. The room dark now, you caught your breath that you didnât even notice was quickened.
You reached and turned it back on to find that it was no longer flickering. It must have been a weird glitch with the bulb. You were about to turn away when it suddenly clicked off by itself.
âWhat the fuck?â you say, reaching to turn it back on when it clicked right back on by itself. Taking a step away as fear imbued you, your eyes widened when the bulb in the lamp started getting brighter.
âWhat the fuck?â you say again, reaching to turn it off only to find that the bulb was so hot it burned your fingers. âOw!â Stepping away, you watched in horror as the bulb kept getting brighter and brighter, filling up the entire room with light so that every corner and shadow was lit. You could see everything. And then it got so bright that you couldnât see well. Your eyes burned, your skin burned with the heat of the bulb. The lamp was shaking where it stood, the fabric of the lampshade starting to burn up to expose the hot bulb even more. Even the metal pole was starting to melt where the bulb sat on it. You could hear the classical music playing from your phone in the kitchen, except that it was frenzied, angered, violent now.
It got brighter and brighter until your face was red hot and your hair felt like it was about to catch fire and all you could see was bright hot white, and you screamed a silent scream âSTOP!â
With a loud electrical popping noise, the bright white faded away. You were blinded now, everything pitch dark, the heat replaced with a sudden coolness as the bulb popped and sparked on the lamp where the shade had half melted off. When you could finally see again, you unplugged the lamp and stepped away from it.
âWhat the fuck?â you said for the third time this night, heart beating fast as you rubbed your hot, aching eyes as your vision came back to you.
Before you could even process what had happened with the lamp, you looked over at the partition window and froze. Your heart stopped in your chest. Every hair on your arm stood up. Your eyes instantly watered with fear.
As you stood across the living room, staring through the partition window into the kitchen, you saw that every single cabinet and drawer in the kitchen was fully opened. All of your cooking tools, all the utensils and knives and equipment, hung suspended in the air right above or in front of the drawer or cabinet you had them in. It was like they were all on strings. And where your dining table was, all 3 chairs were hung upside down in the air above the table.
The air felt alive now. So alive you could feel its heartbeat, feel its breath down your neck, feel it on your skin. It was watching you, taunting you, burning eyes into you. There was something else there with you as you stared at all your kitchen stuff hanging in the air by themselves like they were on pulleys. But they were all so still. Nothing swayed or trembled.
A sigh breezed against the back of your neck. And then everything fell.
All of it dropped, every tool and utensil, every chair. It dropped like dead weight from where it hung, like gravity had suddenly been turned back on. It was deafeningly loud, all the metal tools clanging against the hard tile floor and countertops. Even your boiling pot of potatoes went down with a loud splash of steaming water. It was a deafening clatter, pure chaos as all of your stuff went right down to the floor. Even the chairs cracked onto the ground as they dropped heavily.
Things rolled and trembled until finally it all came to a stop. The air no longer felt as thick, but it was still there. It was silent now except for the eerie classical music still playing from your phone, calmly now.
You didnât know what to do, or think, or feel. You felt fear. You felt confusion. Fingers trembling, you took frightened steps forward towards the kitchen, unsure of what lied in wait for you in there. Flipping open the door, you expected something to get you. You could feel it, you swore. Watching you. You swore you saw something dark swoop down under the surface of the island counter, but nothing was there. It was just you and all your broken tools and chairs. You avoided stepping on the mushed potatoes that still steamed as you walked through the warzone.
On the counter, your steak laid where you left it. Except that it was bleeding now, covered in thick, black blood that oozed out of it. It dripped down the counter, covered your floor. The center of the steak seemed to throb. Too much blood for just a ribeye, and when you touched it, it was warm.
àż
Not that you had anyone to tell, but you didnât speak of what happened. Dumbfounded, you numbly cleaned the mess up and went to bed. After the steak, you couldnât eat beef for a week.
The house felt different now. Still eerie and angsty, but not as devoid as it did at first. Whatever devoid feeling had been filled the day you went into the attic was angered since the day in the kitchen. It felt like the house was resentful, like it was going to snap at any moment and swallow you. Even the doors kept slamming on your fingers when you tried to close them.
You thought about the lady in the market. Couldnât stop thinking about her. Something very bad had happened in that house.
âWanda?â Detective Agnes repeated when you asked her about it. You saw her in her backyard, duct taping another Polaroid camera to her patio. You spoke to her over the fence. It was gnawing at you to know what had happened. âWhere did you hear that name?â she asked gruffly, perking up and approaching you at the fence, causing you to take a few steps back.
âSome lady at the store,â you blurted. âShe was saying something about a Wanda, like it had to do with my house.â
Agnes squinted her eyes at you, and then she suddenly perked up as if she was listening to something. She grabbed a nearly all-brown banana from her hip and put it up to her mouth like a walkie talkie, speaking in a deep voice. â312 on the move. Dealing with concerned civilian. Be there at 1600 hours.â She tucked the banana back into her belt. âYou wanna know about Wanda?â
You nodded, wondering if you should even trust what she has to say.
Agnes sucked at her lip and then blurted, âSheâs dead. But you didnât get that from me.â
âI kind of figured⊠Did she live here?â
Agnes tilted her head. âAnd what do you plan on doing with that information, huh? You trying to blackmail a federal officer?â
You raised your hands and backed away. âLook lady, I just live here and want to know why everyone is being so weird about the house I just bought.â
âLook,â Agnes interrupted you, âWanda Maximoff was found dead in the woods. Sheâs gone, deadso, totally corpsed out, alright? Iâve got her on an operating table over at the morgue if you donât believe me.â
You shook your head. âBut she lived in my house?â
Then Agnes did something weird. She spoke, âI donât know.â But she nodded her head.
You looked at her in confusion. âWhat?â
âI said, I donât know!â she yelled, but she nodded her head again. The expression on her face was angry, but there was something wrong with her eyes. They were almost⊠pleading. But like she didnât realize it.
That conversation didnât make you feel any better about the situation. And when you got home to find that the old book youâd brought down from the attic was sitting on the coffee table open like something had been reading it, you werenât exactly comforted.
It was turned to that same page, the one with the figure of a woman wearing a crown. Feeling aggravated with the lack of knowledge you were getting from both the internet and your neighbor, you slammed it shut and threw it under the couch, out of sight. If there was something in this house fucking with you, you would not just lay down and take it.
Things continued to feel off in the house. Your TV kept going off and on at random times. Doors slamming, footsteps in the hall at night, knocking on the walls. None of it felt as aggressive as that night in the kitchen, though. Youâd come to terms that you had picked a slightly haunted house, though you still didnât truly believe in all that stuff. But as a logical, sensible person, you knew that there was something strange causing all these strange occurrences that couldnât be overlooked.
But when all the little events were mostly docile and didnât get in the way of your usual living, you just carried on. You wouldnât forgive what happened that night in the kitchen, but you could live with it and try to forget it. Even though you had to buy so much new kitchen stuff.
That was until you were cleaning one day and picked up that old dark book from under the couch so that you could vacuum. You set it on the coffee table and kept on cleaning, forgetting to put it back in its place of hiding.
That night, with a clean house, you decided to take a nice relaxing bath. You lit candles all around the bathroom and turned off the light as the tub filled with hot water. Thereâd been more flickering lights and knocking on the walls that evening, but you were starting to get used to it. It was an old house, after all. Maybe it was all just your imagination, and it was all very explainable in a scientific way.
But this event marked a point where you could no longer believe that.
As you laid in the tub, muscles relaxing under the hot water, you opened your eyes momentarily and saw something strange. In the water where you lay, you saw foggy threads of red floating through the water.
Were you bleeding?
Sitting up sharply, you check yourself all over. No marks, no wounds or cuts, no time of the month, but thereâs trails of blood floating in the water.
Your heart starts to quicken as the air grows thick around you again, that same feeling as the one that night with the lamp. It swarms you.
âStop,â you whisper, watching more and more blood appear from nowhere in the water, making the water turn crimson red.
Glancing at the reflective metal surface of the bathtub faucet, your heart stops when you see, in the warped reflection, some shadow of black sitting right behind you in the tub.
Thatâs when you scream and leap out of the water, nearly slipping on the tile floor as you freak out. There obviously was no one or nothing sitting behind you in the tub, but you most certainly saw the dark reflection of one.
The lightbulb above you starts flickering, even though the light was not turned on.
The blood in the water had gone, but during your jump out of the water your foot had pulled the stopper up. The water was draining now, very loudly, making a deep guttural sound as the water drained quickly. When it was all gone, it was silent.
Something dark appeared at the wide-open hole of the drain. It looked liquid at first, like some black substance was oozing out of the drain onto the white porcelain of the tub, but when it started rising up out of the hole and moving in a very alive way, you realized it was fingers.
Blackened fingers rose out of the drain, wiggling, pulling up a hand along with it. The fingernails were sharpened, the slender hand feminine even with its charcoal fingers.
You screamed when a whole arm shot out of the drain and grabbed at the side of the tub.
All you could think to do was run out of the bathroom and slam the door shut, holding onto the knob and listening as you heard the sickly wet sounds of something being pulled out of the drain and slapping against the wet tub, and even the sound of it stepping over the tub onto the floor. Heavy breathing with effort. Distorted wet footsteps across tile floor.
You wanted to run and call the police, but then you felt the knob gently turn in your hand. This bathroom door did not have a lock.
With some sort of screech of breath, whatever thing that was behind the door pulled hard at the knob. Screaming, you pulled the door back shut before you could see whatever was on the other side, wanting to rather die than to actually see what it was. The thing wrestled with you over the door, pulling hard and fast. You held on with all your strength, hands still wet from the bath, putting your foot against the threshold for more leverage. The air was screaming now, loud in your ears, a heartbeat that was not your own beating from inside your own brain. The lights were all flickering, and the house felt like it was closing in on you.
The thing pulled and pulled, screaming and screaming until it got the best of you. The knob slipped out of your hands, and the door swung wide open.
Instinctively, you slapped your hands over your eyes. You didnât want to see. You didnât want to see. You didnât want to see. Youâd rather die than see.
Breathing heavily, you waited for something to get you, because you were certain that whatever was in your house was trying to do that all along.
But nothing came.
Inhaling oxygen and exhaling bravery, you tried to ignore all the visions your brain guessed that you would see, and parted your fingers. Through the slit in your fingers you saw⊠nothing. The bathroom was empty. The tub was drained but clean. The flame of the candles all around were perfectly still.
But then you heard a creaking noise from behind you. Slowly, breath held, trembling, you turned around and raised your eyes.
A black figure clung to the ceiling. It was the shape of a person with soft edges. It was a shadow, in human form.
It jumped down at you.
With a scream, you buckled to the floor and covered your head, trying to shield yourself. Nothing touched you. You bravely opened your eyes again and looked all around only to not see the black figure anywhere. There was nothing but you, naked and wet on the floor.
The air felt empty again. The thing had come and gone. You were safe.
For now.
àż
It was hard to feel settled after that. Things got more aggressive. It was like whatever demon was with you had finally laid eyes on you and was set to get you now. You couldnât find that book anywhere. It wasnât on the coffee table nor under the couch. You looked everywhere to no avail.
Detective Agnes knocked on your door one night to tell you that someone had been lurking at a window at the side of your house. She was holding a full-size Nerf Super Soaker and said that she had tried to snipe the suspect wearing all-black but they had somehow jumped into your closed window (hence the sound of spraying water you had heard on your window). She demanded to look through the house, which she did and found nothing. Youâre pretty sure she swiped a pair of your underwear, though. She taped a Polaroid camera to your roof for good measure and said she took photos of âdamningâ evidence which included unconcerning pictures of your flowerbed. You knew it wasnât a person, but rather a thing lurking from within the window.
Nights were the worst. You had never been someone to be so scared, but you could barely sleep from how hard your heart thumped with fear as you lay in bed at night.
A few nights after the bathroom event, you managed to halfway fall asleep somewhere around 3 AM when you suddenly heard loud banging coming from within the walls. Waking up with a shot of anxiety in your chest, you heard the banging again, loud and clear, like someone trying to break down a wall from the inside.
Feeling frozen, you forced yourself to sit up when you fully froze at the sight of something horrific. In the corner of your bedroom, right beside the window, was that dark figure hiding in the shadows. It seemed more formed this time. You could see the outline of hips, hands, legs. The worst part was that you could see two red eyes gleaming at you in the dark.
âGo away!â you instinctively yelled, but it came out barely audible due to the lump in your throat.
The figure slowly came forward, and the moonlight from the window casted over it.
It was some creature of a woman. She was decrepid, slightly hunched over. Her eyes were red and glowing, her mouth set wide open as if her jaw has been broken off. But where her face would have been⊠Where her face would have been, her skin had been stretched upward into two points, like her skin had been stretched over horns, or over a crown. She was unnaturally tall and skinny, her skin pale and yellowed.
Dark red hair laid at her shoulders, and she was wearing some torn and ratted red suit. Her hands were deformed, long and sharp and bony, blackened at the ends. The horrible smell of death and blood suddenly filled your nostrils, making you gag and cover your nose. The creature smelled of death and appeared deformed, demonic, monstrous, evil.
âWho are you?â you questioned, trying to think of what to say or do. This thing must have been some sort of manifestation of the thing that had been torturing you, and so you say the only name you know. âWanda?â
The creature erupted into a monstrous screech so loud you nearly went deaf, and in a flash, she lunged fast at you. You swore you could feel her push you down onto the bed when you suddenly sit back up, coming out of a horrible nightmare.
You were sweating through the sheets, panting, looking all around your empty bedroom. Had it been just a dream?
Feeling a sting at your shoulder, you look at it to see a bloody claw mark there, so deep it was already dripping blood.
Once the demon had first seen you in the bathroom, she got more aggressive. Now she had tasted your blood⊠What was going to happen now?
As you expected, everything got worse. The knocking and footsteps got more violent than ever, doors slamming on you, knives throwing themselves across the kitchen towards you. This thing was trying to get you.
You leased an apartment in Eastview as quickly as you could.
You couldnât move in for a week, so you were stuck there with that thing trying to murder you. Your friend you had been crashing with was on holiday, but you could not stand to sleep alone in that house. So you asked the only person you could think ofâŠ
âNo worries, tuts,â Agnes said as she strode into your bedroom with an armful of blankets and pillows. âItâs my job to keep my fellow citizens safe.â She threw her blankets and pillows down on the ground right at the foot of your bed.
Awkwardly, you watched her make a pallet. âYou know, I have a couch downstairs⊠That might be best so you can, you know, watch the front door.â You had told her you were having fears of break-ins and just needed someone to stay with you for a night or two.
âNo, no, I can do my job best from right here,â she said as she plopped down onto the pallet. âBesides, these nights can get a littleâŠâ She undid her police jacket, which was actually just a varsity jersey jacket with the name Bohner on the back, as she looked up at you with a smirk. âLonelyâŠâ
You just stared down at her, with her banana and water gun. âOkay, Agnes.â
Honestly, the night went better with Agnes there. There wasnât any knocking or footsteps, no creatures in your corner. It was just Agnesâ obnoxiously loud snoring like a lawnmower right in your bedroom that kept you awake, but eventually you drifted off.
You had dreams of red. Of red and blood behind your eyes. Voices, names, memories, all in red. You donât know what it was that jolted you awake, but something did, and when you flapped open your eyes, you saw her.
She was on your ceiling.
Red scarlet hair hanging down. Her face was not malformed this time, but rather, it was somewhat beautiful. Even with the glowing red eyes and darkness.
âWanda,â you whispered, somehow knowing for sure that this was her. Wanda, the woman who had died, who had a family in the house you bought, who had been torturing you for weeks. Her fingers, black, clung to the ceiling as if thatâs what kept her there, but you could tell it was magic. It was the same magic that froze your body and made you unable to move as she slowly drifted down the ceiling, closer to you, until she hovered right above you.
She didnât seem real. This beautiful ghost, demon, whatever she was, her nose so close to yours, breathing over you with red eyes full of desire.
âYou opened the Darkhold,â she spoke in deep unnatural voice without moving her lips. âYou beckoned me.â
You tried to shake your head, but you couldnât move a muscle in your body except your mouth. âNo, I didnâtâŠâ You thought of the old dark book. You had opened it.
âI can live onâŠâ she spoke, reaching out her hand to touch you. It landed on your stomach, causing you to jump. You could feel her hand. You felt silly for expecting it to just go right through you. Her skin was touching your stomach over your shirt. It made you feel fear and excitement at the same time. âI have a womb now.â
Your eyebrows sewed together. âA womb?â
Chills filled you as Wandaâs lips stretched open in a wide grin that was too perfect to be real. Her face looked fake suddenly, like it was just a pretty human mask put over the real face of something horrible. âA womb for my children,â she said without moving her lips.
Suddenly, your legs were spread wide open in the air. You let out a scream of shock and fear, which made Agnesâ snoring finally stop. Agnes jumped up, stumbling, holding her Super Soaker. Her eyes widened when she saw the demon hovering over you.
âGet down!â Agnes yelled to you as she held up the Nerf gun and sprayed a sharp stream of water at Wanda. To your surprise, once the water hit the demon, it steamed and burned. Wanda hissed and turned to Agnes, levitating upright in the air as Agnes continued to spraying her.
Getting out her banana, Agnes yelled, â664 we need backup over here! I repeat! 664 weâve got a code red!â
Wanda lifted her hand. Agnes rose up into the air, and with a flick of Wandaâs wrist, she was flung right out of the second-floor window.
Wanda turned back to you, and fear jumped at your spine again. Now it was just you and her.
Flying back towards you, she used her magic to peel the sheets off of you, settling herself down on the bed over you.
âWhat are you doing?!â you cried out as she somehow tore your clothes off your body, exposing your skin to her.
Her hand immediately went between your legs, groping at your core. âI have been waiting so long for you, detka,â she spoke, her voice sounding a little more natural. Her eyes, once robotic and blank, looked softer now. You couldnât tell if it was real or not.
You tried to squirm but her magic kept you still. Her hand was expertâshe rubbed circles at your clit as her other hand snaked up over your stomach, up to your breast which she groped. âThe perfect vessel,â she whispered. âI can live on. I can have my children again,â she repeated as she slid her hand down to your tummy again, her hand glowing red. âYour womb is so fertile. I could feel it when you first arrived.â
Your head was spinning as this demon woman worked at your pussy, pinching your clit and slipping two fingers inside which made you yelp. She was gentle yet firm at the same time, somehow knowing exactly what would make you feel good. You were getting wet for herâyou could hear it in the wet sloshing sound that your pussy made as she pumped her fingers in and out of you, curling them at their deepest length.
âFuck,â you breathed, your head feeling suddenly very hot, as if a fever suddenly set upon you.
âYou are so good,â she breathed, voice deeper this time as she adjusted where she sat between your legs, now kneeling over you. Suddenly, something large formed at her crotch. It was a strapâlong and maroonish red with charcoal darkness at the tip.
âWhat are youââ
Wanda grinned and shushed you as she stroked her length, red magic glowing from within her strap. âBe a good, quiet vessel, detka.â
Something evil was showing through in her eyes.
âWandaââ
She used her magic to shut your mouth so that you could only make muffled noises as the demon nestled between your hips, using her hands to spread your thighs further open. She wanted you as open for her as you could be.
Frightened but also some sickly form of turned on, you watched as the demon stroked her cock and brought it to your entrance which she had prepped and made soaking wet for herself. Her cock was larger than anything youâd ever taken. It was throbbing with magic.
The tip pushed through your entrance painfully, and you cried out through the magic covering your mouth as the demon suddenly pushed her entire cock inside you, ripping open your walls. Pain seared through your human body as the demon forced her way inside you, but when she passed a hand over your head, the pain suddenly went away. It turned more into a feeling of butterflies, of throbbing, of pleasure. You could feel blood leaking down your thighs, but she had taken away your pain.
âYou are going to give me such beautiful children,â Wanda murmured, cupping your chin with her dark hand as she started to thrust her hips, pumping herself inside you. The pressure came against your cervix in a hot flash of pleasure each time. She was so long and so large, fucking herself so deep inside you that your stomach bulged. The demon pressed her hand on the bulge and cackled, feeling herself fuck you from inside.
You could feel everything, how deep she was, how the ridges of her strap glided against your walls, the way your stomach bulged with each thrust. Your pussy was being stretched open around her demon cock, taking every single inch no matter how girthy.
âThe perfect bride,â Wanda said, her demon voice showing through as she started to fuck you harder. Her hand slapped around your throat, holding you down and halfway choking you as her thrusts became quicker and quicker, demonic grunts coming from her. You could feel yourself tightening inside, preparing for what was about to come.
The demonâs cock seemed to swell inside you, forcing you to stretch even more. Sickly squelching noises filled the air. Blood was all over the bed now. You felt nothing but electric, all-consuming pleasure.
âStay still,â Wanda said as she choked you harder. âYouâre going to take all of my seed. Youâre going to give me such beautiful children, my beautiful bride.â
She went harder and harder, fucking deep into your womb until finally, the energy broke. She let out a guttural noise, and you could feel her cock go rigid inside you before a load of warmth filled you deep inside. As you shook from your own blinding orgasm, you couldnât even see the fact that your tummy bulged as the demon kept filling you with her seed which glowed red from inside you.
Sighing, Wanda relaxed against you, keeping her cock inside you. It was still swollen, stuck inside your cunt. âIâm going to keep myself here until I know it takes.â She smiled for real this time as she stroked your glowing, swollen tummy. You were more than feverish now as you felt things start to change inside you at an inhuman speed. You could feel it taking, feel your tummy swelling more and more.
You didnât know that once you birthed, she would slaughter you like breeding cattle.
