ahhhwomen

[ahhhwomen]

i was wondering if i could be on the tag list for the Vampire Empire series? :]

Of course!

#asks #thank you

[ahhhwomen]

*Ahem* *Ahem*

Question before I read chapter 6 ....

When you said it's getting there ...is it getting fluffy/ comforty order sadder (pls no)

Em- there is no gentle way to tell you this....

It's not looking good honey...

[ahhhwomen]

You can say no?

Vampire Empire

Part 6

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is not my best-written chapter I won't lie, but it will still hurt if you are looking for a little angst fix... Yeah no, this hurt a little... I won't lie. Also, peep the tags, I had to make a change for this one...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), death, alluded rape/non-con Minors DNI 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Taglist

Your hands weave through cold water, their damaged nerves trying desperately to hold on to something, anything. Waving against unfamiliar territory, you paddle and struggle against heavy waves, they push and pull, and you heave for breath between the swishing walls.

The water is chilling and gloomy.

The expansion of the ocean, vast, and intimidating.

You never realized it until now, with your feet kicking and struggling against the currents, but-

you don’t know how to swim.

There was a woman, long before Master entered the picture.

She was the only one to take an incline of pity on your small shaking frame as she dished out the punishment for eating before you were given permission.

Your chest struggles against the hammering of your heavy heart as the older woman looms over your small frame, sitting in the chilled freezer, your hands clamber around the rough wool sweater she instructed you to put on.

“Here.” Her voice is estranged and lost within time, but you remember the way she would hand you a little flashlight and a painting she had observed your eyes drift toward while you stayed with her.

Even at your young age, there had been something about that painting that drew you to it. The delicate brush strokes were perfected over time. You could almost see the progress of the artist within their work. Some lines were thicker, and rougher, as if they were made with an inexperienced hand. Yet, toward the end, the last final touches among the petals were as beautiful as could be.

The first painting she ever brought inside the cold metal box was your favorite. It helped fend away the thoughts of your stiff, shaking body, inside the locked freezer.

It was a field of sunflowers.

You claw against gruff hands as he holds you under the freezing water.

The cold hits you and you can’t help but try and gasp for air, the only reward you're given is water forcing its way into your lungs and dragging you down even lower.

Your vision darkens and you know.

There is nothing you can do.

As you squint up at the man, the water obscures the view, it morphs and moves, and his blond hair almost reminds you of the sun.

Your airways close as his hands tighten, despite the ice-cold water, blood pools inside your head, heating you up from the inside out, as your body numbs.

His horrid vanilla perfume penetrates your senses much like the chilling liquid that surrounds you.

You never tasted vanilla before… this may be the closest you will ever be to it.

In a blurry of delusion and hallucination, you dream of the beach. With the real sun, instead of his blond hair, peaking over the horizon.

And as you lose conciseness you picture a warming light and delicious ice cream with real vanilla.

The forceful grip of chill has been both a friend and a foe over the years. When you woke up that morning, you didn’t think it would be different from any other day. And you didn’t really care, even if it was.

On one side, the cold numbs you and lessens your senses until you can’t feel the burning pain of a harsh hand or even harsher canines.

Yet, on the other hand, with the lack of mobility, you can’t protect yourself. It’s not like you ever had much of a chance against your masters, to begin with, but that one night.

You curl into yourself, your muscles are weak and tired, but you try to hide from the outlash of thoughts and memories.

If you weren’t so damned cold, maybe it would’ve played out differently.

Maybe you could have spoken up before she had them remove that ability altogether.

“HOW DARE YOU!” You whine and turn as two hot weights settle you back in place. Something strokes your side in a gentle up-and-down motion as searing flashes of the past bombard your senses.

“YOU ARE A PET!” Army boots are the only thing you can focus on as she forces you down to your knees in the snow.

Your leash is wrapped around one of the boots, the weak material fraying around the edges as her heels dig into the ground and force you even lower. With your face flush with the dead grass that is layered with frozen water, she stares you down.

“YOU ARE A SLAVE!”

The last leverage of your knees is quickly kicked out from under you, and you fall with a heavy thud. Your eyes force themselves closed as the snow invades your nervous system.

“YOU DON’T GET TO SAY NO TO ME!” The harsh breathing of the older woman is slurred and hissed. Which is how you know her sharper teeth are out.

Your eyelids slowly peel open, and with a determined turn of your head, you stare up at her in wonder. What did you do?

“DID YOU TELL HER NO WHEN SHE DID THIS TO YOU, HUH!?”

Did you tell her no?

You can say no?

Before the vision can continue, you startle as soft whispers sneak past your eardrums. The words are hard to make out between the intense tone of the blond woman and the horrid chill of the surroundings.

You can only make out parts as the gentle strokes return to your side. A warmth, unfamiliar to you, presses itself closer to you as you can feel their grip tighten against your flailing body.

“Hush, it’s okay…”

Is it?

“You’re okay baby.”

You?

You are, okay…?

Aren’t you drowning…?

Yeah.

You are drowning.

“Shit, she’s getting worse.” Wanda curses under her breath as she closes the distance between the two of you even more, even going so far as to pull Natasha closer by the arm wrapped around your midsection.

Both she and the other redhead lay on their plush carpet in nothing but underwear as they clutch you close while the fireplace burns and crackles to the left of you.

After Natasha had carried you into their home, earlier that day, the vamped-out redhead had quickly ordered her wife to strip down, her voice harsh yet monotone. At the time, Wanda had been riddled with confusion, Natasha had never spoken to her in such a manner before, much less with a demand like that.

The way her words had drawled over each syllable, the air hissed against prominent canines as her tongue clicked at the roof of her mouth. It oozed authority, a clear disrespect toward the older vampire.

There are ranks within the vampire world and rules to follow such ranks. Wanda was the Wanda Maximoff, clan leader of the Maximoff clan. As far as the vamp rule applied, Wanda was at the top of the food chain.

Natasha is strong, always has been, but if she were ever put up against the command of a clan leader her free will would cease to exist. Of course, the powerful redhead would never do such a thing to her wife, but that didn’t mean a vampire´s rage was something that could be stopped.

And Wanda should be angry, she should be outright offended that a lesser vampire would ever speak to her in such a manner. Had Natasha been someone else, Wanda would’ve ripped her head off already.

Yet here they were.

Natasha laid you down gently in front of the fireplace, her hands were already moving to start the fire before she could register what she was doing. Strong, orange, flames licked her upper body as the wood caught ablaze. The heat sizzled and the wood groaned. Previous charcoal that had laid forgotten on the ashpan glowed and flourished with the newfound heat.

Then much like she expected Wanda to do, she stripped down to her underwear. It’s as if she couldn’t get the clothes off fast enough, with every glide of expensive fabric that loosened and fell, she just became more irritated. She doesn’t know how long you have been like this, but the window for action was closing by the minute.

The scent of blood from your scratched elbow drifted through the mansion, yet it was the last thing on the redheads’ minds.

Crawling over to the couch Natasha pulled down every blanket she could get her hands on, and in a jiffy, she was back at your side.

Wrapping you both up like a burrito as she buried herself under the blankets with you.

An audible hiss could be heard as Natasha first laid her front flat against your bare back. Your skin could rival a piece of paper for the bleakness. But it wasn’t just that, you were beyond cold. If Natasha didn’t know any better, she would think you were a corpse.

The thought made her shudder, in a moment of need for a distraction, her eyes started their journey toward a hotheaded redhead.

Natasha knew the significance of demanding anything from her wife, to be frank, it had just slipped, and as her eyes connected with her lovers, she was expecting to see anger flaring within them.

Instead, when her eyes disconnect from where they had been staring at your greasy hair, they glance up to see Wanda stripped down and standing protectively over the both of you.

So, after being let into your little burrito, they both wrapped themselves around you and waited with bated breath.

There was an unspoken understanding amongst them. You were special, whether they wanted to believe it or not.

Close to an hour later, you started whining in your fever-induced sleep.

It all went downhill from there.

(On the other side of the city)

Carol huffs as yet another problem arises, she could never get any peace.

Walking out she can finally breathe as the cold city air flows into her. Her lungs expand and contract as her eyes slip closed for a second. If she wasn’t so fucking angry, she may have enjoyed the silence that hung in the crisp air.

Pulling her phone out she goes to check your location, she hadn’t planned to run off like that, but one of the idiot goons had started trouble with another clan. If she hadn’t stopped it then and there, they were all as good as dead. It had been an ally of the Maximoff clan after all.

“Urgh” pinching her eyebrows Carol groans in frustration. She is going to get an earful from Thor once she gets back to work.

If her mood wasn’t sour before, it most definitely was now.

She was only half-heartedly checking your tracker, too busy wallowing in self-pity, that is until she saw the house, or more like a mansion, where your collar now resides.

Glass shatters, small pieces of melted sand, scattering and clinking as a mastered craft meets asphalt.

She is going to kill you.

Taglist:

@thinking1bee @tobiaslut @esmeseasle @skittlebum @tia-thesimp @maximilfsworld @leenasayeed @scarlethexelove @itsalwaysskorpioszn @observeowl @tekanparadiae @alexawynters @adelareys @anqyuicka @ichala @thalia-is-not-ok @lovelyy-moonlight @wandamaximoff-simp @opossumking03 @confidant-thoughts @delivery-bird @esouliie @geydumbbetch @dorabledewdroop @mousetheorist @herwagonempathkid @mommysfavouritegirl @auroraromaximoff @roman0ffsheart @morganna-la-faye @kaosrsing @marvelwomenarehot0 @lizzieswife101 @og-kxsh-420 @chibilauren @sgm616 @cyber-juipter @falloutboy-lover @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @likefirenrain @cole2907 @rahhhha @taliiiaasteria @mommysfavouritegirl @dehydratedcoffeeaddict @viktoriaromanovaa @julz2000

#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat #vampire empire

[ahhhwomen]

Whaaat 😭😭 , ma'am please let the fluff come , IVE BEEN STARVING FOR IT .

(but no in all seriousness, wdym , what are u doing to the baby. You have no right to be this good at writing AND at cliffhangers ! )

Well....... you see....

Tbh I had originally planned for some comfort in this ch but then I put on some good depression music and blacked out (my mistake really)...

And now, the more I write... the sadder it's getting...

I wouldn't go as far as to say it is the saddest chapter... but it's getting there

it's getting there...

I think I may have to change the tags for this chapter

Anyways! Chapter 6 of Vampire Empire will be out, hopefully, soon!

#vampire empire #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader

[ahhhwomen]

The way part 6 of Vampire Empire is breaking my heart a little... yall didn't really think Carol was the only owner in y/n´s past did you?

God, what am I doing to my baby ಥ_ಥ

#vampire!wanda maximoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire empire

[ahhhwomen]

I'm sorry if updates are slow for a little while, I had two assignments and two tests this week, and I have five tests next week... and two assignments... so it is safe to say creative writing has been put on the back burner for a little while

this isn't even exam week... that's in like two weeks

ಠ_ಠ

#i am so tired #why do i do this #what even is school at this point

[ahhhwomen]

Well you have a new fan ;)

Happy to hear it ;)

#thank you #asks

[ahhhwomen]

I just found you. This is so perfect.

From the first paragraph you create an interesting atmosphere that makes me hooked. The tension in the development of the story conquers my heart.

You have a great talent for describing environments and situations. Agatha is on point. One of my favorite paragraphs

“For fucks sake ladies, it’s not that funny” She mumbles to herself as the rest of the women join in on the animalistic laughter, this is the downside of having ears and eyes everywhere, she supposes

Reading it I can see Agatha reacting like this.

I love Agatha's interaction with the reader and it makes me think about the predator and prey dynamic. Sexy. 

I love dark fics. They're my favorites.

Excellent work

Thank you so much! I am honored that you like it so much!

I was a little unsure of how to write Agatha since I usually write for Wanda, but I am glad it worked out!

#thank you #asks

[ahhhwomen]

hellooo, i wanna request some story, this is kinda dark so basically, Agatha H meets Reader by chance and is very attracted to Reader. Reader doesn't know that Agatha has powers. Reader begins to feel watched and then Agatha kidnaps her. Reader is only conscious from time to time and Agatha is like "Everytime you struggle I will numb you with more magic”... so that's it... add some smut if you want 🫣🥹!!

Pairing: Dark!Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

A/N: Is this anything like you asked for.... no. Is it also over a month late... yes. But hey, i added smut :) Also, I made this fem reader since you didn't specify, if that is wrong don't be afraid to tell me and I will change it!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

Warnings: Dark, kidnapping, use of magic for restraint (*cough* and smut *cough*), smut, edging, smoking, swearing, dub-con  Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 2.1k

The fabric dampens as your tongue pushes against it, your teeth clutching the white material tightly, and your eyes scrunch as you push down the desire to scream in frustration.

You are going to kill your neighbor.

With one last clench of your jaw, you release the wet fabric of the pillow and sigh.

The digital clock on your left tells you it’s way past your bedtime. Yet, the booming from the redhead’s loud friends makes it sound like you are in the middle of a frat party.

You drag your hands over your face, the pads of your fingers digging into the skin beneath your eyes and pulling. The hackle of feminine laughter echoes throughout the streets of your little town.

It had been like this for hours on end.

With a huff, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, and your right hand delivers a quick slap to wake yourself even more.

If this is how it is going to be; then you might as well make the most of it.

Curling your toes as the surprising electric shock of cold wood quirks your system, a chill creeps through you, settling deep in your spine. The duvet calling your name must be ignored for now, and with that, you make your way to the kitchen.

Smoke tendrils float among the remaining cloud of puff as deep amber lips pull in another sharp inhale. The hot air burns like a delight through her as she sits in her own bubble.

She was so over it, sitting on the porch with her shoulders leaned back and her cigarette resting easily in her right hand was the first break she had gotten all night, these girls are loud. And not the fun kind.

Hyena cackles pierce her ears as one of Wanda’s many friends tells another miserably boring joke on the other side of the, thankfully, closed door.

“For fucks sake ladies, it’s not that funny” She mumbles to herself as the rest of the women join in on the animalistic laughter, this is the downside of having ears and eyes everywhere, she supposes.

Her right ring finger taps the side of the burning stump, the texture familiar and soothing. Pieces of ash fall like snowflakes, clustering in a pile beside leather boots.

She is just about to stomp the thing out when one of the neighbor’s front door opens with a little too much force. Wood crashes against wood, the planks behind the heavy thing indenting and chipping the paint, as the door slams into the sidewall of the suburb house.

A young woman curses herself as she looks at the damage she caused while trying to balance the multitude of trash bags she is clutching.

With an amused smirk, the older woman leans forward, tilting her body to get the best view of the younger thing. Her blouse shifts and bunches where the silk is hastily stuffed into dress pants worth half of your rent.

You groan as you feel a pair of eyes study you from afar. People these days.

With a puff of air, you blow away the small whisk hairs that cling to your sweaty forehead, “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to help a girl out.” You turn around to what you assumed was going to be just another one of Wanda’s familiar friends.

She had people over almost every weekend, so some faces were hard to forget, however, when you finally lock eyes with the rude woman, she is nothing like you expected.

With her head thrown back in an almost cruel laughter, you can see the wide expanse of her neck, dark hair falls freely in subtle waves. In one of the hands, the older woman clutches the outer plank of the porch, while the other one grips an almost burned-out cigarette.

You shift from one foot to the other, the weight of trash in your hands almost forgotten as you can’t help but admire her for a moment.

Yeah, she is nothing like the redhead’s other friends at all…

You almost startle as a teasing voice responds to you with delight, “Oh, you are a fun surprise sweet plum.” The woman crushes her cigarette under sturdy black boots, the sizzle of burning leaves dying out much like the flame.

You simply stare at her, even her voice is so different from the other women around these parts.

She struts toward you with confidence even a man couldn’t muster.

Frozen on the spot you would barely notice when she takes two-thirds of the bags if it wasn’t for the way her fingers so deliberately brush against yours. You don’t dare look down, but as you feel cool metal against your warm skin, you know her fingers are decorated with only the best.

“Excuse my bad manners, let me get that for you, honey.”

Her lip lifts into a mean smirk, and the hint of wrinkles just makes her all the more alluring. You can’t tell if you want to drown in her eyes or run away from them as fast as possible.

She is already halfway down your driveway before you can get a peep out, and you follow with haste.

Throwing both yours and her trash into your big bin at the end of the driveway she asks you if you would like to join her for a smoke, you can tell by the repressed giggle that she doesn’t think you will take her up on it.

Which only makes it all the sweeter when you get to surprise her with an easy, “Yes, I would love to.”

For a moment she is the one frozen to the pavement as she studies you, her eyes squinting as if she believes you to be joking. Her eyes travel up and down your younger frame, pausing for a moment on your chest, but you decide that you probably imagined that bit.

Wishful thinking or whatnot.

A soft tongue swipes across dark red lips before the mysterious woman regains her composure and laughs with mirth, drowning out the other ladies, you can’t help but think she looks beautiful when she laughs like that. All, carefree and happy.

She tilts her head toward you, her hands letting go of the bin´s handle and instead reaching out for you to take,

“Well then sugar, I'm Agatha.”

You take it with as firm of a grip as you can manage, “Y/n.”

That’s how it started, with a cloud of smoke surrounding the both of you while you share silly stories from childhood.

And that was the end of it too, she was funny and sassy, but she never came over much to the Maximoff house, so you figured that would be the end of your little connection.

How naïve you are.

There is audible whining as the deep magic slides against your body, it holds your torso and legs tight against the comforter. You try and free yourself with grasping hands but with a quick turn of the older woman’s delicate wrist the magic shifts and turns until it takes ahold of your wrists and pins them down beside your head.

“Don’t be like this baby…” A smooth voice slithers itself into the vast expanse of your mind, almost like she never said it out loud, just forced it into your thoughts.

The sheets rustle as you wring and struggle. The purple void closes in, tightening around you, forcing you still.

You feel numb as your limbs give in to the older woman.

“Good girl. That’s it, baby…” Your eyes feel heavy, and you can’t seem to keep them open. You feel a warm breath against your midsection as the words glide over warm skin.

Before you can comprehend who, the voice belongs to, the tendrils vibrate against you in excitement, and you gasp for air as they close in on the delicate spot between your legs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you as one of the stronger tendrils drags itself in an up-and-down motion against your sensitive clit.

You can’t even recall when you stripped your clothes, but the purple sorcery delights in it. The feeling is almost like pure lust submerging itself within you.

It crawls up your body, one sticks to that sticky spot between soft thighs, while the others spread against you. Like wildfire, they spread and absorb your every thought. One of them settles like a set of warm hands against your bare chest. Teasing taught nipples.

Another one forces your mouth open, and slides against your tongue, firming into the feeling of ghost fingers. They drag gently over your lips when they are coated enough.

Then it drifts lower as the one against your clit speeds up.

Your back pulls like a taught string, if this doesn’t let up, you will break soon. The purple tendril against your pulsating weak point hardens. You gasp for air, and finally, you can breathe, the continuous assault against your body is now over, and you relax a little into the sheets.

“Oh fuck!”  Your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

You let out a breathy whine as the purple mystery is replaced by the feeling of wet fingers pushing into you. They force their way past your lips and enter you without any problem.

Another moan fills the heavy air, but this one isn’t from you. It’s deeper, passion laid within it like an accent.

“That’s it, honey, hop like a bunny for me.” When the feeling of cruel eyes prickles the back of your neck, you finally make the connection.

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutching the sheets like your life depends on it.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as you huff in annoyance, if you were going to keep having these dreams, they may as well let you finish. With your eyes still closed, one of your hands releases the smooth silk and glides down your bare stomach, then you stop to a halt.

Placing your hand back on the soft material you open your eyes in wonder, you most definitely do not own silk…

The first thing you see when your senses return to you is expensive sheets, in a deep purple shade, then as your eyes wander your heart races.

This is not your house.

“Ah, you are finally awake.” You startle as the feminine voice calls out to you from across the room.

“That was a close one wasn’t it honey? You are dripping all over the sheets.” Agatha sits in the armchair in front and center of where you lay gasping.

Her legs crossed; she cradles a cup of tea in her left hand. Narrow eyes study you as you scramble to cover yourself only to find that you can’t move any longer.

The deep purple is back as your wrists get pushed back into the bed. The mattress hugging you close as the purple weight of restraint takes hold of you yet again.

The chuckle that escapes Agatha is cruel and unstoppable, it builds within her, crawling up her stomach until she can’t help but voice it. She can see the realization dawn all over your face, the feeling of eyes in the back of your neck, the strange dreams, the never-ending teasing of naughty dreams for her own pleasure.

The lack of memory, the restraint deep within your bones, all because of this woman.

After your little meeting all those weeks ago you had heard stories about her, the rumors, the purple aura that seems to follow her everywhere she goes. However, not once did you believe the petty gossip of the redheads’ other friends, that was your first mistake.

Now you understand, they were all true.

After all…

It was Agatha all along.

And as she pushes herself into your mind yet again and forces you into yet another dream that will keep you just on the edge, Agatha Harkness is one wicked witch.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #dark!agatha harkness #dark!agatha harkness x reader

[ahhhwomen]

The series Vampire Empire is absolutely amazing that I finished all the parts within 1 hour😭 Can I please be on the tag list?

Of course! I am happy you liked it!

#asks #thank you

[ahhhwomen]

I see yall in my inbox like Agatha H... Well then, say less

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #dark!agatha

[ahhhwomen]

I’m so excited for part 6!!! could I be on the tag list?

Of course! Thank you for reading!

(✿´‿`)

#thank you #asks

[ahhhwomen]

Eternal Slumber.

Vampire Empire

Part 5

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is kinda just a filler chapter while I work on requests (if anyone else have any feel free to drop by my inbox), so it may be a little while until part 6, that being said, enjoy lovelies!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), death, suicidal ideation  Minors DNI 18+

Summary: They say a taste of death can change a person forever. However, they never take into consideration, that maybe, that’s the only thing coating your tongue on a regular basis.

Word Count: 2k

Taglist

There are tiny spikes of ice against the metal, almost like a layer of fuzz over the orange rust. It creeps into every crevice, the metal bars groan and creak, and the water, frozen inside some of the weaker spots, bursts and tears apart the material.

The cold was affecting everything.

You stare at the metal hook responsible for keeping you in place. The concrete around it is dented and smoldering. With a microscope, it would look like a mountain falling apart. Stone by stone.

It wouldn’t take much force; you ponder if you could release it with just a weak tug. You probably could, but you don’t bother.

Your body sinks lower, and the concrete scratches against your stomach. Red welts burn in displeasure as the friction reawakens the former punishment. It’s as if the weight of your body has doubled overnight, you can’t keep yourself up.

It’s hard to breathe.

It’s hard to stay awake…

The cold was affecting everything.

Including you.

You glance out the window with meager eyes. The trees pass by faster than you can keep track. Your head pounds, and you want to rest.

Just for a moment-

A gruff voice disturbs your peace for the hundredth time.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep.”

You had been lying in your enclosure all day, preserving your movements for only necessary situations. You wanted to dream it all away, but you knew you shouldn’t.

With both your nose a fresh pink and fingertips a bleak blue there wasn’t much to do other than to study your surroundings.

Your eyes glide over the same small details you have stared at for years, though there was a beauty to your misery, every corner and prickle of this place glittered against the slim beam of light from the hallway. The golden gleam reflected like sunlight against the ice, however, where you lay chained and tense under your red lamp, it felt more like a mockery.

With a sigh, you looked over to the empty shackles, frozen to the ground opposite of you. Your muscles burn as you grip the ground firmly and attempt to lift yourself up. Your arms shake in effort, your nails grinding against the pavement, but you can only manage to push upward for less than an inch.

Then a light thud echoes as you fall back down.

You’re so tired…

Your eyes slip closed for a second, there are a select few in the hallway that whine and growl, and you try to shift your focus onto them. Their hoarse voices screech against your eardrums, and you can’t help the grim expression as you listen to their cries…

There were more yesterday…

Of course, it was a given that this place took away some hope, but you know that isn’t the reason the numbers of distain more than halved overnight.

The rag over your lower half shifts away from you with every minuscule movement, it slides against your bottom, and slowly, the grime and dirt settled within the flimsy material slather itself against you as it leaps the final length and falls off.

It’s almost as if it knows you are too tired to move it back.

You are so sick of this place.

The cries are silenced as you hear the familiar thunder of shaking keys.

With a bitter glance to the other side of the room, you pity yourself; if you had any strength left, you would wrap the chains around your neck and hang yourself.

You huff in annoyance as the redhead shakes you vigorously yet again.

You can feel a swift, but gentle, slap on the back of your head. The redhead’s hand taps against you, her palm making quick contact with the greasy hair.

At your whining Wanda voices her opinion, “Don’t start with me, I told you not to fall asleep.” The powerful woman’s annoyed voice wraps around your lingering headache. Her calm tone was more like a booming against your forehead.

Shifting under the red leather, you whimper even more. The heating blasting towards you feels strange. Hot air sifts around you, almost like a tunnel of wind directed solely at your slumped frame. A noise, a mix of a hoarse cough and a weak cry, can be heard as Wanda shifts her own heat toward you too.

Realizing you won’t back down on your bitching, Wanda retrieves her hand with a roll of her eyes and refocuses on the road in front of her.

Trees and livestock pass by in a blur, there are tiny speckles of muck and dirt against the expensive windshield. Snow sits snug in the more stubborn corner of the window, small flacks forming a pile unmovable by the front wind.

Goosebumps prickle Wanda’s skin, the bite of winter making its entrance this early must really do a number on places like the shithole you´re from.

The car lifts for a moment as one of the bumps rustles the lambo, you shrink in on yourself, your pale skin retreating to hide under red leather. The redhead’s foot pushes downward harder, the exhilarator vrooming as she frowns.  

Wanda doesn't even know what possessed her to take you, but if she left you there, you would surely be dead by the end of the day.

Natasha was always far better at understanding humans, however, given the little bond you two have, she is unsure how the other redhead will react to your current state. She glances at you in her peripheral, your lips are tinged blue, same with your fingertips and toes.

You don’t even shiver, and Wanda passes another stop sign with no regard. Shivering is a good thing; it means your body is aware you are cold. No shivering is bad, like really fucking bad.

Her hands tighten against the steering wheel, the skin between her rings and knuckles, clamp and squeeze in an irritating pinch.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that if you aren’t yet hypothermic, it won’t be long until you are.

With a sigh, Wanda reaches over to settle the jacket more tightly around your frame.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to the house, Wanda makes it in seven.

Natasha frowns, and the smell of burned vegetables invades her senses. With an irritated scrunch of her nose, the redhead goes to trash yet another pot of attempted soup.

The goo of estranged ingredients jiggles unsettlingly at the top of the trashcan as Natasha pours the substance out. The ring on her left pointer clinks against the pot as she places it back on the stove.

She can never get it right.

With a huff, the redhead pulls out her cell phone, her hand wraps around the silver piece and she goes to find her messages. Her thumb makes quick work of checking on Wanda yet again, the pad of her finger taps the screen rapidly, the remains of her failure smudges against the glass, and Natasha cringes.

Her unread reply to Wanda’s previous questions remains the same, wiping her hands and phone off with the kitchen rag, the redhead walks over to her preferred room of leisure.

The clacking of her heels hitting the flooring is dampened as she steps onto the carpeted part of their little den.

A soft glow illuminates the living room, and the tenseness of her shoulders lessens as she lets the orange hue wash over her.  

Plopping herself on the green couch she reaches over to her purse, the case reports she needed Wanda’s thoughts on lying on the very top. The paper brushes against her fingers, the white sheets threatening to tear as Natasha's nimble fingers search through the mess lower down.

She is just about to read them over again, when the familiar rumble of her wife’s car, pulls into their parking lot.

Shifting the gear stick, Wanda finally manages to park, your shuffling and whining had certainly not been helping. She can see her wife waiting for her by their door, but Wanda knows she is going to have to wait a moment longer.

You sit beside Wanda, your body wringing and shifting, you feel hot, and sweat rolls down your forehead.

The black belt meant to secure you through the drive feels more like a restraint as you push your shoulders against it. Bone threatens to pop out of the socket as the strong treads hold your weight back with ease, the pressure against your bruised body does little to deter you.

Wanda tusks, “Stop that.” Her hand reaches over to you and unfastens the belt, “Calm down baby, we are already here.”

Wanda pauses.

She scrunches her eyes, her left hand tightening the hold against the steering wheel.

Wanda doesn’t do nicknames, or sweet ones anyways, not unless it’s her wife.

Yet, the nickname had slipped without a second thought.

She has little time to think about it however, the sound of weak banging calls out to her, the redhead’s attention shifts and she groans in annoyance as you have now moved on to trying your luck against the metal door.

Your fingers run along the interior of the door, the pounding in your head makes it hard to see, and everything blends together in a mess of colors and sounds. You try to feel your way to the handle, but only expensive patterning can be felt as you try gripping the handle.

“You can never make it easy for me, can you kitten?” The redhead mumbles to herself.

The black tinted windows stop anyone from seeing what is happening inside Wanda’s car, but the taller woman can see Natasha shifting uneasily at how slow her usually effective wife is being.

With a sigh, Wanda rolls up the sleeves of her blouse, the silken material gliding and scrunching at the crease of her elbow.

In an attempt to settle you, if only for a moment, Wanda presses her right hand flatly against your chest. With a controlling movement, she pushes up and down to signify a breathing cycle more suitable than your erratic one.

She holds her unoccupied hand against your thigh, rubbing it up and down gently. The friction does nothing but alarm Wanda further.

Knowing she can’t turn around now, Wanda steps out of the car, your scent leaking out into the chilly wind outside their estate.

The shift in Natasha’s behavior is one not entirely surprising yet distinctively fascinating as the smell of your cold blood clings to the inside of her nose.

The taller woman moves to your side of the car; she secures you tightly in her arms. You try your best to squirm out of her hold, your hands clawing against Wanda’s covered biceps, but with how tired you are it’s little use.

You slump into the redhead’s body. Her leather jacket forces you even deeper into the scary woman’s embrace.

Realizing there is no winning this, you finally fall into the deep exhaustion that lies beneath your skin.

Natasha stands as still as a statue. Every muscle within her expands and contracts, but she can’t move.

Until she can.

At a young age she was taught that every choice one makes has consequences, every decision she has ever seen through in her life has been planned to the very tee before any move was made. She never “vamped out”, she never made a mistake, and every notion of her life was just how she planned for it to be.

Why, because Natasha knows restraint.

Your limp body lies seemingly lifelessly in Wanda’s hands.

Natasha doesn’t think.

The weight of your slim body is removed from Wanda faster than even she can comprehend, her leather jacket that was lying close to her chest, just as you were, is now gone, just like you. For a reason she cannot explain, anger bubbles beneath the exterior of the older woman as she watches Natasha carry you to the house.

With a speed unchallengeable Wanda stands just behind her wife. Her hands wringing the material in front of her in a firm grip, the black fabric is soft inside her clutch.

Holding her back by her jacket Wanda questions her wife, “What are you doing?” her anger lingers within her tone.

Enough so that any other day Natasha would stop dead in her tracks, today, however, was not one of those days.

The thick fabric of Natasha’s suit slips from nimble fingers as Natasha rips herself away from the redhead. With a blank face, she turns toward her wife, two prominent canines peeking out between soft lips.

“She is freezing to death.”

Taglist:

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#wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #dark!wandanat #Vampire Empire

[ahhhwomen]

Vampire empire is in break?

Nope, Vampire Empire is still going strong, and is not on a break, I am just slow ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Working on part 5 now!

#Vampire Empire

[ahhhwomen]

I really need to rewrite this, cus wtf was that writing style? And why is the smut so much higher quality than the rest, wtf was I thinking?

ಠ_ಠ

Copycat

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Dark!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

A/N: I have never written smut before, I had at least five mental breakdowns trying to get this done. This is not what anyone would think of when they think of Ghostface Wanda, this entire thing is like a fever dream to me. This went so far away from the franchise it's crazy. I am sorry in advance.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

Warnings: Ghostface, 2 Ghostface?, implied murder, knife play, humiliation, degradation, smut, so much smut, Mistress kink, Halloween, dub-con, Dom!Reader, Sub!Wanda, Wanda is a total bottom in this entire thing Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Halloween is around the corner, all you want is a calm night home alone… though it seems the universe can never give you a break. Or; Your phone rings with a mysterious number on the night of Halloween. What’s your favorite scary movie?

Word Count: 6448

You have always taken a liking to Halloween, but even you have to admit this year was turning out to be too much.

Between the excessive amount of Halloween activities and decorations that have taken over your small hometown and the new wanna-be Ghostface, it was starting to get to you.

Since the October month started, bodies have been turning up left and right, all with the same knife lacerations from the iconic Ghostface's choice of weapon. Or, a copy of it, anyway. You don’t have to be a genius to know it's a mere copycat, the real Ghostface only kills on the night of Halloween, not the entire month. Plus, whoever this copycat is, they are sloppy and attention-seeking. The real Ghostface has been killing for over five years at this point, and they have still not been found. This copycat will probably be busted before Halloween even takes place.

Still, you would be lying if you said it didn’t concern you a bit, at least with the real Ghostface you knew when to expect havoc and you could take precautions to keep the ones you love safe. A copycat was not as easy.

You keep caution close to your heart as you continue your way to Wanda's house, you and Wanda have a tradition to watch all of your favorite horrors the night before Halloween since you would both be busy, trick or treating and partying the night of.

Or, she would be busy trick or treating and partying the night of, while you stayed at home worrying about her, with your doors double locked and the porch lights off. Though you like Halloween, you preferred to stay home and comfortable, rather than to fit into a tight outfit and worry if too much or too little of your ass is showing.  

You ring the doorbell on Wanda's ridiculously decorated door and wait while you think over what snacks you should buy for yourself before all the partying starts tomorrow.

It's Mrs. Maximoff that opens. “Hey Sweetie, Wanda is just in her room, go right ahead.”

She lets you in with a warm and welcoming smile and a pat on your shoulder. You thank her and climb up the stairs of their expensive house. You like Mrs. Maximoff, ever since you were little you have been best friends with Wanda. When Wanda and her mom realized you were often alone as a child since your parents were divorced and your father wanted nothing to do with you, while your mom always worked to avoid you, they took you in and quickly became your pseudo-family.

You will always look up to Mrs. and Mr. Maximoff for their help and welcoming presence, but it was different with Wanda. Her parents treated you as their daughter and you felt immensely grateful and happy to be a part of it, but Wanda has never been like a sister to you. Even when you were kids she was always so much more to you, though as much as it breaks your heart, you can never tell her that.

Wanda was way out of your league, she was smart, funny, popular, and astronomically beautiful. She was perfect, and you? Well, you were less than, to say the least.

You shake your thoughts off as you enter Wanda's bedroom to find her changing.

You roll your eyes. “I know you could hear me walking up and yet you still chose the last second possible to put your clothes on.” Wanda laughs as she pulls the hem of her t-shirt down.

“Well, I gotta give my little pervert a show, don’t I?” Wanda smiles with mirth and you return it. “Pretty sure you are the pervert in this accession.” You laugh with a shrug.

It's now Wanda's turn to roll her eyes as she lays down, signaling for you to do the same. “Potato potahto,” you smile as she laughs to herself at her stupidity. You missed her, you hung out just the day before, but you missed her on a deeper level, it has been like this for a while so you just push it down as you stare up at her ceiling.

Her ceiling is filled with posters and drawings of Ghostface. Actually, her entire room is filled with it, ever since that night five years ago tomorrow, Wanda has had a deep obsession with the Ghostface killer. And unhealthy obsession, you think to yourself as you see a new replica of the Ghostface mask on Wanda's desk. You look over at Wanda with disapproval at the new addition. Wanda pretends not to see you.

You lean up on your elbows before voicing said disapproval. “Wands, we talked about this.” She too pushes herself up onto her elbows and slaps your arm gently. “It's not that bad,” she gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you don’t budge.

“It's wrong that’s what it is, you can't simp over a real killer Wanda. It's not right” Wanda huffs. “You are just jealous I am giving someone else attention.” You know she doesn't mean it like that, but it stings when she puts it so bluntly. There is a hint of truth in what she says, but you ignore it. “I am not jealous, you are just sick.” You say it in a lighthearted manner, but you can tell Wanda does not appreciate the call out.

“No, what is sick is what that dickhead would have done had Ghostface not killed him that night.” You stay silent, you have to agree with her on that part. You just nod, but make sure to add a “Still.”

Sensing that this is not the right time, you change the subject by asking what movie to start with.

“Same as always dumbass,” Wanda giggles as she gets up to retrieve her computer. Already set up with Friday the 13th.

The night has dragged on for way too long in your opinion. Kids and teenagers alike running up and down the streets for hours on end sure can piss you off.

You make sure to keep the news on as you scroll through social media, Wanda said she had some family over, so you don’t have to worry about her this year. Which is a relief, you aren’t really in the mood for an extra adventure today anyway, it's been forever since you could just stay home the entire Halloween night.

It's strange, the copycat and the original have not shown their face today. The night is almost over, but only party drama and yelling neighbors have been reported on. The original is one thing, but you were sure the copycat would take advantage of the night. Surely this build-up hasn't been for nothing?

You are almost disappointed.

In the mood for something to do you get around to making dinner, it may be the middle of the night, but like the nocturnal creature you are you don’t care either way. You never had a routine, not until you started hanging out at Wanda’s house, so some habits are hard to shake.

You are just finishing up with the dishes when your phone calls. The newly dried plate clatters as you put it down. You dry your hands with the kitchen towel and make your way over to the couch where your abounded phone lays.

The caller ID is unfamiliar.  

“Hello?”

Your brows furrow when silence hangs in the air. Just as you are about to hang up a deep voice answers.

“Hello, is Ms. y/l/n there?” You are a bit dumbfounded, your mother always insists on people calling her by her first name. You can't even remember the last time you heard someone call her by her last name. It must be a work call then, maybe your mother mixed your numbers up. Something that is even more peculiar, you are not even sure she knows your number.

You right your posture and lean more heavily on your right foot, shifting your weight. Already suspicious, you make sure to answer vaguely and straightforwardly. Whoever they are you aren’t interested in talking much more.

“No, I'm sorry. This is her daughter, I can give you her number if you would like?” You can hear a puff of laughter on the other end. Their tone unsettles you.

“Aa, so you must be y/n. I have heard quite a bit about you.” Now that is not right, your mother barely acknowledges your existence, there is no way she talks about you. You have had family members be surprised, that your mother has a child, when they came over for Christmas once. You were seven at the time.

“Who is this?”

Now fully engaged in this mystery of a conversation you turn off the TV and leave the living room, intending to end this conversation swiftly, after getting some questions answered, and going to bed. It is only 1 a.m., but all the noise has been wearing you thin the entire day.

Again, there is a long silence before they answer.

“I'm your mom's friend.” They don’t add anything beyond that. Now you know they are lying, no one calls your mother by her last name if they are her friends. You are curious as to what they could want, however, so you keep the conversation going.

“Oh, really? What's your name?” You subconsciously cross your left arm over your right while holding the phone tightly to your ear.

“You can call me Mike.”

You blink.

“Mike?”

“Yes.”

You remove the phone from where you were holding it against your ear to just look at it for a moment before answering.

“Mike is the only name you could think of? Really Wanda?” You smirk.

“…”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” Wanda avoids your question by asking her own.

You bite your lip satisfied with yourself. You lay down on your bed and make yourself comfortable before bothering to reply.

“SpongeBob” Wanda will find that reference hilarious, you were nine when she introduced the show to you. You had nightmares about that damn sponge for weeks, there was just something about him.

That’s why it takes you by surprise when the voice seems angered by your response.

“This is not the time for games!”

You agree, you are far too tired for these mind games so if this is how she wants to play this then fine.

“Fine, how about this? Who is your favorite killer?” You put extra flair of dramatics into your voice while you question her. The dramatized voice paired with trivia questions comes naturally to you after watching all types of trivia game night shows with Wanda throughout the years.

“I asked you first.” Childish.

“No, you asked me what my favorite horror movie is, I answered.” You thought it over, “Oh well I answered a show, but you get what I mean. Now I want you to answer my question.”

There was a tense rustling on the other end and stomping footsteps before it got silent and the answer was a mere whisper. “Ghostface.”

Not very surprising. You smile to yourself as you roll over on your stomach and fiddle with your dove. You wonder what she is up to.

“It's my turn now,” the deep voice darkened, “Why did Ghostface kill that boy five years ago?”

Your body tenses. You don’t like where this is going, so you play dumb. “How am I supposed to know?”

The voice gets louder. “Answer me!”

You feel yourself tighten a little at her tone, what is she getting at? “Look Wanda I don’t know what you want. I don’t know why Ghostface killed Vision.”

All background noise disappears from the call, you can’t even hear breathing. Then, a strained voice, like cat claws on chalkboard, speaks up.

“Wrong answer.”

Before you can reply the phone call ends. You debate with yourself on whether or not to call Wanda, she usually plays some prank now and then, but this was something else.

You don’t have time to think about it before a knock can be heard on your front door. An unpleasant feeling pools in the bottom of your stomach as you try to ignore it. Plenty of children can’t take a hint and come here looking for candy, you rationalize with yourself.

You are just paranoid.

The knocking doesn't stop, however. You puff your chest before getting up and deciding to put an end to this. When you unlock and tear open the door, intending to give a stern talking to whatever kids were up so late, you are stunned at the lack of anyone.

You slam your door closed and lock it. Whoever they were, they were messing with you. Probably just some bored teens from your high school, or Wanda. Either way, if you didn’t react they were sure to get bored.

Suddenly as you are heading back upstairs the pieces of the puzzle take place.

The voice, Ghostface was known for using a voice box and calling their victims with stupid trivia questions. You knew this well, you just didn’t expect it to happen to you.

You are three steps up the stairs when you hear your door unlock.

You snap your head to the sound. There are only three people with the keys to your house, yourself, your mother, and Wanda. You know Wanda likes her fun, but she wouldn’t take it this far.

The handle doesn't move. You wonder if you imagined it all together? No this isn’t right. You scan your surroundings before going back to the door.

Sure enough, both locks were undone.

“Enough!” You hate to admit it, but you were getting nervous.

“Whoever the fuck you are, fuck off!”

You can hear your phone go off in your room, you curse yourself for never taking it with you as you again lock the door. You take a glass from the kitchen, rigging it up on the front door handle. Some kids don’t know when they have taken it too far, so you have to make sure to be one step ahead.

Like always.

You walk deadly silent as you go to get your phone, now that you have finally caught on, you have no doubt of what game will start once you pick up the phone.

You are being hunted.

You slide your thumb over the screen, picking up the call. You keep moving.

“What do you want?”

The voice sounds ruff and excited. “Me? I am just trying to get someone's attention.”

Go figure. The one Halloween you just wanted to spend in peace the damn copycat has to target you.

“Right. The infamous copycat is it? So is it like a kink or..?” You are standing in your kitchen now, if they want to play, you’ll play. You tighten your hands into fits as you anticipate the comeback.

“Cheeky. No, I am just trying to prove a theory.” This bitch.

You can hear heavy breathing on the other end like they are running… Or have just stopped.

You grab the strongest knife in your drawer. Then you put it back.

It’s a risky move you know, but you also know that no one ever thinks of the back door leading into the woods and it's safer for you to run than fight. At least for now.

“And what do I have to do with this theory?” You chew your lip in annoyance as you lean your body weight forward. Ready to bounce any second now.

“You don’t, you are just an easy target.” This absolute fucking bitch.

“What theory is it that you are trying to prove? Trying to test Ghostface's ability to kill or something? There can only be one or whatever?”

“Don’t be jealous, this will be over soon.” They have no idea.

The glass shatters and you run.

You don’t even think about it, you just bok it straight out of the back door and into the thick forest surrounding your home. You can hear them close behind.

The voice box activates. “There is no point in running!”

Truly an amateur, everyone knows running will be your safest bet when you don’t have a weapon. Fighting should always be the last resort when you are inferior to the killer. It's basic movie logic.

You run until you see it. Your safe haven.

The shed.

The shed creaks open and slams shut as you barricade the door. You have been trying to hold it together all night, but now that you stand there surrounded by your darkest secret and seconds away from revealing it to the psycho copycat, you can't help it. You are getting excited.

It's been ages since you got to play, and there is no need to run now. They are about to enter your territory; they will be inferior.

You have just finished getting ready when you hear the door kick in. Just as expected the killer stops as soon as they take in their surroundings.

Got you.

The copycat threads carefully, the shed is unexpected. Unfaired territory, filled with… Filled with Ghostface?

The shed is a rundown abandoned shit box the copycat has never seen anyone use. Yet here it stands, filled to the brim with every crime and murder Ghostface has ever committed. It's written in more detail than what they could ever put together themselves. They have read any and all pieces of information out there, yet they don’t even know half of the scribbled and planned murders that litter the walls and table.

It only takes a moment for it to set in, they just walked into the lion's den.

And you will show no mercy.

The copycat freezes as a voice rings through the still air.

“Don’t look so disappointed. You are getting what you want, aren’t you?”

You stalk your prey. Your infamous knife is strongly gripped in your right hand, as the copycat turns towards you and backs up in fear. Their knife drops to the ground as you trudge forward. God, it's delicious the way you can see them shiver beneath the poorly-made mask. A mask you have most definitely seen before.

They walk straight into your little homemade table and you take the advantage to press your body into theirs. Your masks almost touching.

“Tell me,” you raise your hands to their covered face. Slowly peeling the mask off as you continue. “What theory was it you wanted to prove? Hm?” Just as red hair reveals itself a hand takes hold of your wrist to stop you from going any farther. That’s fine by you, you know they didn’t realize when you deactivated the voice box.

Nagging them on you continue, “Don’t leave me hanging, what do you want to know? I might just answer it before I cut your pretty tongue out.” You hold the knife up to their face before slowly dragging it down the mouth of their mask and leaving it just under their jaw.

Wanda's meek voice responds.

“I- I I didn’t mean too- too-“

You mock her “too- too-?” “Spit it out pretty girl.” You dig the knife in, just a little.

Too lost in the situation, Wanda hasn't caught onto her voice filling the room.

“Why do you keep killing for me?” So, the age-old question is finally voiced out loud.

You smile beneath your mask. You consider lying, but it's Wanda.

“Because I can.”

Truth be told, it started when you saw the football jock Vision put his hands on Wanda five years ago at a random Halloween party. After that night it evolved.

It just feels right to kill for the things you love.

You don’t let Wanda query anymore, taking hold of her mask you rip it off, revealing her tear-stained cheeks and scared eyes. You have to resist digging the knife in harder, yet it still digs minuscule more. Just enough for one drop.

A single drop of blood that slides onto your gloved finger.

That is what gets you.

Wanda lets out a squeak as you push her onto the table. Your knife never leaves her pale skin. You straddle her, using your weight against her to keep her compliant. You lean closer to her, wanting her to look at you like she did the night you killed Vision.

Scared, but aroused.

You get what you wish for when your gloved hand drags the tip of your knife down her body until you are hovering over her covered breasts. With your left hand, you clutch the fabric of her gown, cutting it open with the knife held in your right. Wanda whines as she squirms to get away from you.

You laugh at her pathetic little sounds as you forcefully grab her by the chin. You lift your mask, only enough for your mouth to be seen, and you press your lips against Wanda´s quivering ones. She only resists for a moment, then a delectable moan vibrates against you. You return it when you push your tongue into her sweet, hot, mouth. You swirl your tongue around while your hands rip open her outfit. You can feel her bra-clad breasts heavy in your hands. You let the knife slice the bra like butter.

You have to break the kiss to give full attention to the sinful heaven exposed in front of you. Wanda turns her head away from you as she catches her breath, you let her. The only thought occupying your mind is how you can destroy her so sweetly tonight.

You kept yourself at bay for so long, but there is only so much you can do when she whorishly seeks you out. And in such a rude manner too. She was using you to get to, well you, but she didn’t know that. A punishment needs to be set in place; one you will have no regret enforcing.

You settle your mask back in place as you stand and move away from the poor birdy.

She looks up in confusion and disappointment when you go.

You pick up Wanda’s knife and walk over to an armchair nestled in the corner of your den. Wanda struggles to sit up as her chest heaves with each manual breath, uncertain of what you want, as you study her from your corner.

You point her knife towards the open door. “Close it.”

Unsurprisingly, Wanda hesitates before complying. You tsk in disapproval, Wanda moves just a tiny bit faster at the sound.

After it's properly closed you instruct Wanda to lock it using the plank you point out. This time she does it in a timelier manner. You nod your approval as she takes a timid step towards you.

When Wanda tries removing your mask you take ahold of her wrist and bend it until she yelps in pain. The surge of power and arousal that shoots through you almost makes you lose your calm, but you soldier on.

Your gaze remains unfaced as she sniffles in pain. “You don’t get to touch me.” You say as a matter of fact.

“Why not,” tears gleam in the redhead’s eyes as she whines.

“Because only good girls get to touch their Mistress.” Wanda melts at your words. Her knees buckle and her nipples harden. You put the knives between the cushions of the ruff chair. You will need both of your hands for this.

As she stands there you can't help but admire her. She looks just the way you imagined she would. Her frame is perfection, even with her clothes hanging off her and tear stains gleaming on her flushed cheeks. You want to eat her up. But first, her punishment.

You act unbothered as you command her.

“Kneel.” Wanda’s eyes widen as her desperation dampens her underwear.

There is a dull thud as Wanda’s knees connect with the water-damaged wood planks. Biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from singing her praise is needed, but you can’t help it when you automatically pet her hair gently in reward.

You think of all the times you dreamed of holding her like the pet she is. Your palm smoothes her hair down while you mule over how long it's been since you had a good orgasm. When she´s putty beneath you, you grab a fist full of red tresses and roughly pull her closer to your crotch.

Taking the hint Wanda lifts your dark gown and gasps at the lack of underwear. It's cute that she convinced herself you believed the copycat was anyone but her. This punishment has been long in the planning.

You push more intently on her. “Don’t stop now. Be a good whore and mistress may give you a reward.”

You are glad you kept the mask on as you drool looking down at her while she gets to work. She’s so tiny and irrelevant, one calculated squeeze and you can have her begging for her life while she eats you out. The power imbalance is almost enough to make you cum before Wanda can put her talents to use.

When Wanda's hot mouth makes contact with your folds, sucking and teasing you, you have half the mind to tie her down and force her to watch while you fuck yourself with your fingers. However, you can't resist her when she finally sucks your clit into her keen, wet, fuck-hole.

You wonder if she has done this before as it only takes a minute for your eyes to roll into your skull. Jealousy takes hold of you at the thought.

You push the redhead away from yourself, sooner than she can get a word out, you lay her onto her back on the cold floor and straddle her face. Wanda goes to grab your hips, but you force her down. Holding her wrists over her head you instruct her to stay still.

You can’t help but tease her by riding the air just higher than what Wanda's greedy tongue can reach. You drag your body slowly back and forth sensually, making sure to let some breathy moans and groans rile her up.

“I thought I told you to be good.” You tighten the grip around her wrists in warning.

Wanda, who had been slowly trying to lean upward, lowers herself. She is smart enough to act remorseful, you decide to let it go this once. Far more concerned with satisfying your thirst you take your seat right on Wanda’s waiting mouth.

Wanda makes the jealousy easier as she moans loudly into your pussy while pushing her tongue against your hard clit. It's erotic the way Wanda’s hips buck aimlessly while your juices drip down her chin.

The harsh oak makes your knees sting and you can only imagine how Wanda's back must feel. Of course, Wanda is too far gone, she’s moaning and rocking against the air with her eyes closed.

With this small turn of events, your punishment needs an adjustment.

So, you improvise. Originally you were going to make her fuck you until you ran out of cum. However, being on the floor may prove to make that difficult.

The jingle of the whore’s boobs, whilst she tries humping anything she can get between her legs, does give you an idea.

Leaning back you mindlessly search the chair. When your hand connects with the handle of your steel knife you grab on. Keeping it behind your back so as to not let the redhead get a peak. You doubt she can even if she wants to, she’s too deep in your cunt for you to see anything besides her closed eyes and the bead of sweat running down her forehead.

She continues lapping up your wetness like a dog, none the wiser as you debate on wheter or not to hold the knife against her jugular. Reflecting over it, she has been good, so you keep the knife behind you. If only to use it if she misbehaves.

Misbehaving seems to be the last thing on her mind however, she is devouring your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth. When she introduces her nose into the mix, bumping it into your clit while you ride her tongue, white-hot pleasure runs through you. Sounds, you have never heard yourself make, escape before you even think to stop them. Your toes are close to curling and tension tightens in your lower back. Yet you rearrange yourself away from the redhead's hungry mouth, now is not the time.

After Wanda finishes gasping for air that you haven’t allowed her, her eyes fly open at the lack of your taste.

You stand over her. Wanda whines in confusion, but you ignore her in favor of fixing your outfit. Wanda stays in place. All fight left in her evaporated as soon as you touched her. You can’t help but scoff at how easy she is.

She looks like a bitch in heat, panting and twitching as you stand over her with your knife gripped like a phyton.

You tilt your head. The torn rags still holding on by a thread annoy you. “Take your clothes off.”

Wanda's eyes lack any thought as she heeds to your every whim.

She removes the cheap outfit slowly, pushing it off her shoulders and down her waist, over her ass, and past her legs. She removes her ruined bra next, sliding it off each arm and letting it fall into a heap beside her.

You sneer at her disobedience.

“All of it.” You accompany the words with a snap of your fingers.

There is a long silence while the demand sinks into her empty head. Then like lighting, Wanda takes off her soaked underwear.

Wanda trembles as you leisurely walk around her, tapping the knife in a rhythm against your other hand. Completely nude and vulnerable, just how you like her.

You stop in front of Wanda´s open legs. Her body is begging for you to touch her, she is heaving, drooling, desperate. And you have no plan on lessening it.

Ever since you were younger Wanda has always been a particularly touchy person, she needs human touch to function. Without it, she can't do certain things. Like how she refuses to take a walk unless you hold her hand, and how you can see her struggle to get up and shower if you don’t promise cuddles after.

That’s why when you found her little devious plan three months ago you decided the only punishment fit for a sadist like her would be to remove all sense of touch. Deprive her of the one thing she needs to cum, your touch.

You return to your chair. “Touch yourself.”

Wanda swallows thickly as she watches you beneath heavy lids before nodding to herself. You have seen the way Wanda slowly gathers her wetness and spreads it around her libido while her breath turns shallow many times when you silently sneaked into her bedroom, always mindful of what floorboards would give you away. This is different, this time she is doing it for you and only you.

Wanda never breaks eye contact through the black mesh of your mask. It's only when she pinches her clit that her head gets thrown back and a prolonged moan emits from her that she can’t keep her act up. She is close, but if you play your cards right, she won’t be going over.

You dig the knife into the armrest and swirl it back and forth, fiddling like you're bored.

You can sense Wanda studying you from where she sits just a few feet away, but you overlook her.

Wanda, very much, does not like this newfound disinterest you have in her. She speeds up her fingers, moving them clockwise and pressing down hard. Every time she tries to get your attention by moaning louder or trying to press her foot into your boot you tune her out and move away.

Just as you thought, when the redhead’s orgasm approaches, she struggles. Her moans of pleasure turn into whines of frustration, and you don’t even look at her. You keep your focus on the knife. This is where the real punishment starts, one mistake from you and you know she will have no issue falling over the edge and screaming her pleasure for the entire world to hear. No, you will make her suffer if only a little.

After all the running you have had to do tonight you are making sure she will be left breathless and exhausted before an orgasm is in order.

For ten minutes you distract yourself, for ten minutes Wanda balances painfully on the edge of pleasure.

You only take mercy on her when she taps the floor twice.

Raising your eyes you see Wanda with fresh tear tracks running down her cheeks while her fingers work overtime trying to move faster than you have ever seen them move before. You have to hold back a moan at the sight.

You stand slowly, dragging every movement out. Wanda stares wide-eyed and hopeful as she cries from the pain and pleasure. You make your way between spread legs and crouth down to her eye level. You lift her chin with the tip of your knife, and when she stops her movements, you know you have her attention. Without uttering a word, you remove your mask with your unoccupied hand.

As soon as your face is free of its confinement and Wanda sees you in all your mad beauty since she entered your chosen playing field for the night, a moan so deep and gurtal leaves her dumbfounded. While she is distracted by the new sound she can make you hold eye contact and leave the knife in place, but without looking you reach down and pinch her neglected clit so hard she screams.

She comes so hard she sees stars for minutes after you stroke her through her aftershocks.

When she gets back to herself you are laying on top of her and petting her sides. She doesn't even realize she is crying until you carefully wipe her tears away while praising her. “There you go, baby.”

“It's okay, you did so well.”

“Mistress is very proud of you.”

“Just breathe for me, honey.” “That’s it honey, good job.” You pet her while she gathers herself under you.

She came for a full three minutes before she passed out. As worried as you were in the moment you have to admit you are a little proud of yourself. That is definitely the hardest you have ever seen her cum.

After a while, you can hear her mumble something.

“What’s that baby?”

Wanda, in a surprising turn of events, locks you against her chest and flips you both. You blink up at her as she giggles from your tense reaction.

“Sorry,” you watch her giggle to herself and you know for a fact she is not sorry, “I couldn’t help it, you just look so cute when you are surprised.”

You grin with her but you also grab the knife beside you and lift it to her neck. She quickly stops laughing, but she isn’t scared. Not anymore.

“Behave, don’t forget who´s in charge here.” You fix her with a stern glance.

Wanda deflates a little, but her hands never leave you. She trails her hands up and down your body, groping everything she can. You dig the knife deep enough to where she has to stay still if she wants to keep her vocal cords.

Wanda mewls, “please.”

You roll your eyes at her. “Please what?”

“Please can I touch you, Mistress?”

You smirk, “You are touching me.” The disappointment rolls off of Wanda, but she knows what she needs to do.

Not wanting to actually hurt the redhead you had loosened your pressure without realizing it, Wanda uses that to her advantage. The deviant redhead swiftly moves your hand out of her way to attack your mouth with a round of kisses. She then pushes her tongue in, and swirls it teasingly around yours. You moan into her as she grinds her leg against your covered clit.

You let this go until you need her inside you.

You pull her off you and grab her neck. You tighten until she wheezes then you speak.

“If you ever disobey me like this again I will tie you down with a vibrator and leave you like that for hours. Do you understand me?” The redhead nods as best as she can.

You let go of her neck only to grab her hair again. You stand, dragging her with you. “Sit.” You point at the chair as you let go.

Wanda obediently listens without defiance this time.

“You are lucky,” you tell her as you straddle her thighs. “if I wasn’t in the mood for an orgasm I would have you over my knee now. You grind into her lap as you speak. This time when Wanda goes to grab you, you let her.

Wanda controls your hips as you pound yourself into her lap. She is more than eager to comply when you command her to put a finger in.

You ride her until you can't take it anymore and reach down to draw tight circles over your forgotten clit.

You cum so fast it almost gives you whiplash. Wanda moans with you as clear liquid coats her hand.

You both fall into an exhausted pile of post-orgasm bliss as you settle. Wanda cuddles into you and you lean your chin atop her head. She nuzzles into your neck and sighs with satisfaction.

You are half-dosing when a giggle abrupts from the girl in your arms. You look down at her with a confused tilt to your head. Wanda is already grinning up at you.

“Same time next year?” You laugh at your girlfriend of six years and nod while kissing her sweaty forehead.

“Same time next year.”

(Oh sorry, forgot a tag: Role-play)

#ghostface #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!reader

[ahhhwomen]

Wait, no, please share. I need to see the darkness 👀

a/n: you asked for it, also this is half shit written cus its just a blurb lol

WARNING TAGS: Violence, religious trauma, death, blood

Platonic Relationship: MotherFigure!Natasha x DaughterFigure!Reader

You’re a freak, a monster, a killer. The girl under you had told you as much.

The skin on your knuckles splits and tears as your hands continue to collide with the helpless prey beneath you. Small droplets of blood scatter and spray the mats covering the floor.

Please, for the love of god, stop me now.

The girl under you cries and begs, but it only spurs you on. It’s like you can see her life force, clutched in your greedy palms, you just need to use a bit more force. Then the voices will stop, your muscles will loosen, and the fear will dissipate. The bunny beneath you is suffering, you just want to help it.

She tries to kick you away, her legs slamming into your ribs, but as your hands take hold of her hair and smash her skull into the ground, you can’t feel it.

Please, God, embrace thy child and end her suffering.

The priest’s words echo; please God, forgive the sinner, and aid her prey.

You can feel Mira’s fingernails dig into the skin beside your eyes, her fingers slip and glide clumsily against your blank face.

 She’s trying to dig her thumbs into your eye socket but the blood covering both of you makes her falter and you use her momentum against her and violently twist your elbow outward, crashing it into her outstretched arm, and there is a sickening crack as Mira screams in agony.

The redhead´s other hand yanks your hair violently before you can deliver the last blow.

Oh, please God, save this sick child.

Your bloodshot eyes stare widely at her shivering frame, Mira stares back at you, her fear evident in the way her pupils are nothing but a pin needle in a sea of endless green.

 Please God, lay the monster dormant and return thy child to the great heavens above.

When you dig your knee into her stomach, the hand that had previously held you back loses its grip, and you can finally end it. It would only take eight ounces of force for your thumbs to penetrate the thin skin over the lower part of her jugular.

And yet-

You make the ultimate mistake.

As you straddle her and start digging your thumbs in, you look up at her young face. Tears roll down her chin, her face is pale and bloody. But her red hair falls like a hallow around her, and her eyes are the perfect resemblance to a familiar emerald, green.

Please God, save thy child. For thy child is alone.

Natasha was the only person to ever make you feel like you belonged. She was the only one to let you feel hope. Feel love.

Natasha was like the mother you never had.

Your small hands clasp the cross tightly and you kneel in front of the altar. The statues are intimidating as your little frame looks up at them in hope.

“Oh, please God, kill me before I can do more harm.” You spoke as clearly as you could into the cold crisp air inside the abandoned church.

You thought you were alone, but then a tall woman with angelic red hair had found you.

“What are you doing her kid?”

You're frozen above the scared girl as you come too.

“What have I done?” you whisper to yourself and quickly lift yourself to let the smaller girl free. However, just as you are about to stand. A white-hot agony shoots up your spine and you fall, the mat is cold and sticky, and you try to push yourself up with the use of your arms, but you can’t move.

There is something firm lodged in your back.

Natasha stands over your limp frame, she can feel the sweat on her palms glide against every nook and cranny as she stands there numbly, not being able to remove her eyes from the handle sticking out of your small back.

Natasha had done that.

She didn’t have a choice.

You had talked about this before…

That if the day ever came when you lost control.

That the redhead needed to do what was right.

She had to.

She had to.

Her knees creak in protest as they ram into the wet mat. Her fingers clutch and grasp at any part of you she can gather up. Your skin is already losing warmth and she curls around you in hopes of returning it. You wheeze when she pulls your body over hers.

You can’t feel anything, but the force against your lungs worsens as Natasha tries to apply pressure around the metal in your skin.

Thank you, God.

You can feel your mind slipping away from you, and the pressure starts consuming you. You can do nothing but use all of your last strength to muster up the words you never had the opportunity to say.

“I’m sorry mom.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #mommy!natasha

[ahhhwomen]

Yeah... so I did end up writing a blurb, but it turned so dark so quick that I think I am going to refrain from posting it to spare yall the trauma...

It was not what I meant to write... I don't know what happened...

I wanna write something new, I am thinking maybe something with mother Natasha or mother Wanda but with heavy angst, maybe some absent mother type deal (and hurt/comfort ofc),

but I am feeling so uninspired as of late

So if anyone has any suggestions please leave them in my inbox, I am desperate

(I may not write the suggestion to a t tho, I just need the cogs to start turning)

#woopsie