Yeah. This Is My Main. I Have Alts If I Need To Scratch An Itch.

Like that smelly, ungracious, clumsy gremlin who keeps crashing the "networking events", and doesn't play ball, but somehow keeps getting invited, even though they drive the guests away and discuss inappropriate topics.

I am a strong advocate of bringing back that guy who messes people's lives up just a little bit, especially if they have their priorities in the wrong order.

I loved this one. I adore all those who write about transfems with gocks.

𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑀𝑒

pairing: wanda maximoff x transfem!reader

summary: Emo Wanda loses her virginity, and you're the best partner ever.

content warnings: reader has a penis, handjob, sex, finger sucking, light choking, condoms, power dynamics if you squint

word count: 4k+

masterlist

“I want to touch you.”

You look up at the words, blinking slightly as you set your book aside. Your head is in Wanda’s lap, the fingers running through your hair stopping as you give her your full attention.

“What brought this on?” You ask, sitting up and facing her. “I’m flattered, don’t get me wrong, but I know you wanted to take things slow since it would be your first time and everything.”

Wanda’s green eyes look down at her lap for a moment before she casually throws her hair over her shoulder, shrugging. You see her feigned nonchalance for the vulnerability that it is but decide not to comment on it, instead taking her ring-clad fingers in your own and intertwining your hands. 

“Do you want me to touch you while you’re touching me?” 

“No.” Wanda’s eyes cut toward you, her thick eyeliner somehow still in place even after an entire day of classes. “I’ll get distracted if you touch me, and besides, I want to touch you without there being an expectation of receiving anything in return.”

You nod, shifting your weight on the couch. “I’ll sit on your lap then?”

Wanda takes a deep breath, her hands already reaching for your waist. She helps you onto her lap, moving her hips until she’s comfortable with your eight sitting on top of her. She can feel the warmth from your crotch, your slight bulge making her mouth water. 

Fuck, she’s already wet. 

Clearing her throat, Wanda tries to force her blush down, her face feeling hot. Her hands move your arms to your sides, squeezing your wrists gently before releasing. You don’t move them, so she takes it as a sign to continue. 

She doesn’t know what to do. 

“Here,” you murmur. “Let me help get you started.”

Wanda’s hands barely graze your skin, her fingers hesitant as you pull your shirt off. Wrapping her hands around your waist, she watches you pull the fabric over your head. She can’t help but let out a small gasp as your red lacy bra is revealed. 

“It’s your favorite color,” you murmur, a small smile on your lips as you watch her. Your thighs straddle hers, your arms loose at your sides as you sit on her lap. 

“It is,” Wanda says, her fingers tightening around your waist for a moment before she waves them, red wisps shooting toward the light switch. The room is plunged into darkness before a single lamp clicks on and washes your body with soft, warm light. 

Wanda’s fingers are slightly hesitant as she bites her lip, her eyes roaming your body. You wonder where she’s going to begin touching you, your waist perhaps? Or maybe your chest, where she can already see your nipples hardening under your bra. 

Gentle fingers stroke your cheeks, her hands cupping your face. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips roaming your features. She traces a line down your cheeks and under your jaw, over your nose and eyebrows. Softly, she traces your lips, pausing on the corners when you smile slightly. Her hands resume moving up your face and across your temples before carding through your hair and tucking it slightly behind your ears. 

Sometimes, Wanda wonders how she got so lucky with you. She’s never been the relationship type or the type for any sort of affection in general. But then you showed up, tipsy at a frat party with your backward hat and warm eyes, and that stupid, blinding smile of yours. Wanda had pushed you away at first, keeping you at a distance even as she found herself hanging out with you more than her own brother. But somehow, you managed to always wiggle your way back into her life and over her walls. 

Occasionally, Wanda will glance over at you when she thinks you aren’t looking. She’ll think about all the ways her hard, jagged edges should hurt you and your soft heart. But that hadn’t stopped you from mockingly getting down on one knee and presenting her with a cherry ring pop (her favorite kind, you always paid attention to every small detail about her) and asking her to be your girlfriend. 

“Hey,” you whisper, leaning in slightly. “Where did your head go?”

Wanda blinks, her hands still buried in your hair. She moves them back to your face, stroking your cheeks as she lets out a rare smile. It’s soft, and not at all jagged. “Just thinking about you.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me so bad,” you tease, your eyes crinkling in the corners in that way Wanda loves. 

“Shut up,” she says, but there isn’t any heat behind her words, her fingers trailing down your jaw. “Is this okay?”

You know what she means, even if she’ll never say it out loud. Wanda will never admit just how scared she is of disappointing you. Not that she ever could. “It’s more than okay, baby. Take your time. I’m enjoying your hands on me.”

“I bet you are.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything else, something in her eyes shifting as she runs her fingers down your neck. She pauses when she feels your heartbeat, the blood racing through your veins. It rushes beneath her fingertips, under your warm skin as it keeps you alive. She suddenly felt her own chest ache for a moment, knowing that she could feel the very essence of you under her fingers. 

“Can I use my mouth?”

Your chest heaves at the question, and Wanda can’t help but glance down. “Fuck yes, you can, Wanda.”

Wanda’s hands resume their movements, slowly running down your neck as her eyes lock on the way you tilt your head back. Your collarbones are sharp, and Wanda runs her fingers over them before gently pressing her thumbs into the dip in your skin where they meet your neck.

A low moan grumbles in your throat, your bottom lip snagged on your teeth. Your eyes are closed, and Wanda feels something relax inside her. She loves your eyes, and how piercing they are, but right now it’s nice to not be observed. She also loves that you’re relaxed enough to trust her like this, to close your eyes and let her do whatever she wants. It should be daunting, but instead, it’s fucking exhilarating. Wanda surges forward. 

Pressing her lips against your neck, she drags her tongue across the spot where she can feel your blood pumping wildly. You smell good, like warm bread and honey. Wanda loves it. Sometimes, she steals your clothes just so she can bury her nose in them and feel you while you’re away. Not that she’ll ever admit that. You never seem to run out of sweaters, though. 

Dragging her nose up your neck, Wanda explores the side of your throat with her lips and tongue, relishing in the small sounds and gasps escaping your lips. Her other hand dances around the base of your neck, not applying any pressure, just touching your soft skin and memorizing every curve and bump. 

Her kisses turn heated, her breaths picking up as she marks your skin. She loves the way you squirm on her lap, the tent in your pants obvious as she works your body up. Your hands are still at your sides, your fingers fisting the fabric of Wanda’s ripped jeans. 

“Fuck, Wanda,” you breathe. 

“I know,” she murmurs into your neck, inhaling your scent before moving to the other side and marking that up too. 

You’re grinding in her lap now, soft whimpers sounding out as you try to maintain some composure. It’s not working very well. The sensation of Wanda’s lips against your neck feels like liquid pleasure running through your veins. 

She pulls away, but before you can really complain about it, her lips are crashing down on yours like it's the only thing she’s ever wanted to do. Her hands cradle the back of your head, her tongue licking against your lips until you finally part yours. Her lips refuse to part from yours, her body leaning into yours as she kisses you. It leaves you breathless in a perfect sort of way.

Your chests heave in tandem, the need for air winning as your lips part. Wanda rests her forehead against yours, her hands tracing down your neck to rest on your shoulders. 

Meeting your gaze, Wanda smiles at the heat in your eyes. “I’ve still got more of you to touch,” she reminds you, gently running her hands down your arms until she reaches your hands. She lets her gaze drop, pulling one of your hands into the space between your bodies, her fingers gently tracing yours. 

Wanda loves your fingers. They’re dainty and long, with your fingernails cut short but polished beautifully. She loves the contrast of her silver rings and chipped black nail polish to your thin gold rings and well-maintained cuticles. 

Slowly, she brings your hand up, tracing her lips with the fingertip of your forefinger. Your breath hitches, your gaze locked on your hand. Wanda parts her lips and gently sucks two of your fingers into her mouth, her tongue warm and strong as she watches your eyes darken. Your hips are moving slightly, soft breaths hitting her face as you pant. 

“You like sucking my fingers, baby?” you ask, your voice low. 

Wanda nods. 

“You’re very good at it,” you murmur, licking your lips as your eyes glance between the fingers in her mouth and her piercing gaze. 

Smirking, Wanda gives your fingers one last suck before slowly pulling them from her mouth. They glisten slightly, as you feel yourself throb at the sight, your breath slightly shaky. Wanda gently guides your hand back to your side, her palms running up your arms. 

Now she’s moving quicker, her bottom lip snagged on her teeth as she looks down at your chest. Her fingers trace the straps of your bra, rubbing over the fabric until she cups your breasts in her hands. Lightly, she runs her thumbs over your hardened nipples poking through the fabric. 

You gasp and arch your back slightly, pushing your chest further into her hands. 

Smirking, Wanda runs her thumbs over your nipples again, loving the small sounds she’s pulling from you. Her hands move slightly until she’s able to pinch your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, your small whines turning into low moans. 

“Take it off,” you plead. “Baby, please take it off. I need to feel you.”

Well, Wanda can’t say no to that. She’s never been good at denying pretty women anything. And you’re the prettiest woman she’s ever seen, so she reaches around your back and quickly unsnaps your bra, sliding it down your arms and placing it on the couch. 

Your nipples are achingly hard, your breasts soft and perfect underneath her palms. Taking a few steadying breaths, you watch Wanda’s face as she gently rolls your nipples between her fingers, her eyes glancing up at yours for a reaction.

God, you already look ruined. Your eyes are slightly glassy, your lips swollen from the kiss and parted as you pant. Your cheeks are flushed and your pupils are so dilated that Wanda can barely see the color of your irises. It’s a picture of beauty.

“You look so pretty like this,” Wanda whispers, tugging on your nipples and feeling arousal shoot through her at your responding moan. 

“I should have known you’d like your girls all desperate and needy,” you manage to say, Wanda’s hands kneading your breasts as her thumbs swipe over your nipples. 

“No.” Wanda smiles, “I only like you all desperate and needy. It’s a good look on you, I’ll have to make it happen more often.”

You nod, agreeing with her. You typically were the more dominant person in your relationships, but something about Wanda made you want to cave to her every word. Sure, there were times when all you wanted to do was pin her down and fuck her until she couldn’t think straight, but now that the tables were turned, you didn’t mind. 

This was Wanda’s night. She got to do whatever she wanted to you, and you were more than happy with that. Her comfort was always your first priority, and you wanted her to lose her virginity the way she wanted to. 

“Stand up.” Wanda breathes, her hands slithering down to your waist. Her fingers break the waistband of your sweatpants, and she looks you dead in the eye. “I want these off.”

You’re quick to comply, your erection throbbing and begging to be set free. It’s a bit awkward, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind your clumsy actions as you stand and pull your pants and underwear down. The fabric tangles around your ankles, and you hold her shoulder for balance as you pull them all the way off. 

It would feel weird to be completely nude while Wanda was clothed, but you don’t feel awkward once you see her hungry eyes locked on your cock. 

“Can I touch it?” she asks, glancing up at you. 

“Of course, baby,” you murmur, sitting back down on her lap and straddling her. Your hands go back down to your sides, your cock standing up proudly between you two. “Take your time.”

Wanda smiles softly at you. She knows this is a vulnerable moment, and she thanks you for trusting her with a small, passionate kiss. 

Pulling back, Wanda brings her fingers up to the tip of your cock. She gently rubs her thumb through the precum gathering, loving the way your breathing changes at each touch. She finds a sensitive spot just underneath the tip that has you gasping, your cock jumping slightly. She wants to find more spots just like that and she wants to drive you mad with need. 

With confidence from your small gasps and moans, Wanda wraps her hand fully around you, feeling how hard you are. You moan at the action, your hips jerking before you force yourself to remain still. It’s hard to not fuck yourself against Wanda’s hand, but somehow you resist the urge. 

“Start moving your hand, baby,” you whisper, your eyes dark as you look at her. She smiles at you, maintaining eye contact as she slowly pumps your length in her hand. 

It’s agonizing and so fucking perfect. 

You throw your head back, moaning as she jerks you off. Her rings against you feel amazing, providing a rough sensation that has you leaking down your shaft. Your precum coats your length as she continues to slowly move her hand up and down, watching your reactions closely. She can feel you throb under her palm when her rings graze your tip, so she does it a few more times just to hear you moan.

Wanda moves her free hand to your chest. Her movements become slightly rough, her fingers digging into your skin as she squeezes your breast. You moan and arch your back again, your hands gripping her knees behind you tightly. She pumps her hand quicker, enjoying the broken gasps and whines as you subconsciously thrust your hips. 

“Do you have condoms?” Wanda asks urgently. Her hands are suddenly everywhere, pushing you down onto the couch until your back hits the cushion. She keeps pumping your shaft even as she begins to stand, your hands flying to her waist as you make a noise of protest. 

“Yeah, they’re in the drawer next to my bed,” you say, watching her lean down toward you. Her lips press quickly against yours before she pulls back. 

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, before she’s dashing up the stairs and out of sight. 

You would laugh at her eagerness, but you’re still rock hard and throbbing at the thought of feeling her around you. Gently, you lazily stroke yourself as you wait for her, your other hand rolling and twisting a nipple between your fingers. 

“Okay, I got one,” Wanda’s voice sounds out, and you smile as she enters the room again. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and she’s holding a condom in one hand, and a bottle of lube in the other. 

“I don’t think I’ll need this,” she says, setting the lube on the floor and tossing the condom onto your stomach. You throb at the implication, taking a steadying breath. “But, it never hurts to be safe, right?”

Her green eyes peer at you for confirmation, and you nod quickly. “That’s perfect, baby.”

Wanda smiles widely at you, tucking her hair behind her ears slightly as she stands next to the couch, her eyes nervously roaming your body. You can tell that she needs some guidance, so you reach out a hand and pull her in by her studded belt. 

“Take your clothes off, Wanda,” you murmur. “I want you to strip for me.”

Nodding, Wanda slowly pulls her shirt off, smirking at the way your eyes lock on her chest. She unclips her bra impatiently, throwing it on the ground before cupping her chest and tilting her head. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, stroking yourself a little faster at the sight. “Keep going, baby.”

Wanda smirks. “Hands off.”

Your eyes snap to hers, and you slowly let go of your length. Your cock rests on your stomach, throbbing with arousal as Wanda bites her lip at the needy look in your eyes. 

Slowly, she hooks her thumbs into her ripped jeans, pulling everything off in one motion. You see that she shaved, her inner thighs glistening with her arousal as she takes a deep breath and steps closer to you. 

“You look beautiful, Wanda.” You say earnestly. “I mean it. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Oh, shush,” Wanda says, but you can tell that she’s pleased. 

You pat your thighs, purposefully not touching your cock like she asked -commanded, more like- you not to. “Sit here, baby. I’ll show you how to put a condom on.”

“What is this, health class?” Wanda teases, but she straddles your thighs all the same. You can feel the warmth from her core right next to your cock, but you ignore your arousal as she takes you in her hands. 

Ripping the packaging, you open the condom and show her the little nub that’s sticking out. “It goes on like this,” you say, putting it over your tip and pinching the nub. “Then you just kind of roll it down until it’s fully covering everything.”

Wanda watches with rapt attention as you gently use your thumb and forefinger to pull the condom down around your length. Once it’s fully on, you release the nub and smile up at her, making some last adjustments to the condom. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Cool,” Wanda nods, biting her lip. There’s a beat of silence before she locks her gaze with yours. Her eyes are dark again. “I’m going to ride you until you cum in this condom, and then I’m going to keep going until I cum.”

She leans down, smirking. “And you’re not allowed to touch.” 

“Fuck,” you manage, before she’s lifting herself up slightly and lining your tip up with her soaked entrance. “Take your time, baby. Focus on what feels good for you, I’ll be enjoying it any way you want it.” 

Wanda smiles at you briefly before she’s bracing herself with her hands squeezing your breasts and slowly lowering herself onto your cock. 

She only takes your tip in, but it’s absolute heaven. Her soft moans reach your ears, her hands squeezing your breasts tightly as she gets used to the feeling. She feels amazing, your tip surrounded by her wet heat. You resist the urge to thrust up, keeping yourself still as you put your arms up and grip the couch arm behind you.

“Good job,” you pant, your eyes warm as you look up at her. “You’re doing just a good job, Wanda. You feel amazing, baby.”

Wanda’s eyes glaze over slightly at your words, and she lets out a whimper of pleasure as she lowers herself further onto your length. This time, she keeps going until she’s fully seated on your cock. 

“Oh, fuck,” she says, her voice high and breathy. Her cheeks are flushed, her hands gripping you tightly. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Wanda is quicker. She shoves two of her fingers in your mouth, smirking at your muffled gasp of surprise. “Suck.”

Obeying, you suck her fingers as she begins to lift her hips up, your tip dragging along her walls in the best way possible. She fucks herself with your cock, starting slow before she finds a rhythm. Once she finds it, you’re a moaning mess. 

The wet sounds of her pussy sound out, her ass meeting your hips as she fucks herself. Your eyes are closed, your fingers cramping from how hard you’re gripping the couch arm. Wanda stops occasionally, fully seated on your cock, grinding her clit into your pelvis as she moans. 

“You feel so fucking good,” she gasps out, pulling her fingers from your mouth and gently wrapping them around your throat. You cum right then, your strangled moans sounding out as you feel yourself cumming into the condom. You squeeze your thighs tight as your eyes shoot open, Wanda’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes staring at you. “Does it feel good to fuck me, baby?”

“Yes,” you moan out, her hips moving faster as she nears her orgasm. “Fuck baby, you feel so good around my cock. It’s perfect… you’re perfect. Holy shit, I feel so good right now, Wanda. You’re making me feel so fucking good.”

Wanda’s hips stutter, and she keeps milking your cock, the pleasure overwhelming as she fully seats herself on your length. She grinds roughly, her other hand moving from your chest to her clit as she rubs fast circles. Her pussy walls spasm, then tighten in the most pleasurable way possible as her orgasm washes over her. 

Your cock is overstimulated, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda is writhing slightly on top of you, her fingers squeezing every drop of pleasure from her clit as she rubs it gently. Her other hand releases your throat and gently trails down your sternum as she steadies herself. 

“That was…” Wanda opens her eyes, looking down at you with a lazy smile. “That was fucking amazing.”

She bites her lip, suddenly shy. You take that as permission to move your hands, and you sit up slightly as you cup her cheeks. 

“You were amazing, Wanda,” you say, kissing her softly. “I loved every second of that.”

“You were pretty amazing too,” Wanda murmurs, rolling her hips. Your cock throbs slightly, semi-hard and still buried inside her. “You followed my orders like the good girl you are.”

You smirk, your length hardening again. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll never make it to the shower.” 

Wanda giggles, kissing you again. Her lips are soft and insistent, her tongue grazing your bottom lip before she sucks it between her teeth. Pulling away, she releases your lip as you groan, your cock almost fully hard again.

“Next,” she murmurs, shyly running her hands over your shoulders. “I want to try sucking you off.”

You groan dramatically, throwing your head back as Wanda erupts into chuckles. “You’re going to kill me, woman,” you gasp out, theatrically clutching your chest. 

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugs, her eyes glinting. “But you’d probably find that hot too.”

Smiling, you lean in and kiss her again. This time it’s lingering. You pour your emotions into the kiss, hoping Wanda understands just how happy you are that she trusted you with her first time. 

“I love you.” You lean in and kiss her one last time, just for good measure. 

“Sap,” Wanda teases, biting her lip and wrapping her arms around your neck. 

“You love it.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I do.”

---

Dm or comment to be added/removed!

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Huh.

Until a year ago, spite was my strongest emotion, but I have managed to work on that.

Totally

one of the coolest things about your home computer is that you can use it to browse the web and read interesting posts from people all across the globe

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

cuddles~

I'm honestly just fascinated with having an elf-like lifespan. But I think even a 100 year life extension would be good for the human race. I feel like people make so many rash decisions because 70-80 years is a short time.

It seems like people only become wise when they are 60+, by which time you have only 10-20 years left. Imagine if you were wise and still had most of your life ahead of you.

Thoughts on Life Extension

I think the human race needs an additional 100 years of (healthy) lifespan. I honestly think it'd solve some of our problems and probably make us chill out in general.

The pressure to have children by 20 to 30 in most places would no longer exist. That is something you don't have to worry about until you're 50 or 60, by the time you are more wise to the ways of the world and you can avoid being trapped in a terrible relationship for the sake of the children.

The young would be much more reluctant to take part in wars, as there is far more life ahead of them. Artists and writers would have more time to create closer to their true potential. There'd be less reason to have a midlife crisis and the mad drive to accumulate enough savings for retirement would not be as pressing.

The memory of historical failures would stay around for far longer. Those who lived through the horrors of industrialisation, slavery and totalitarian movements would not let the young make the same mistakes. People would be harder to fool. Imagine if a politician tried to slag off unions in front of voters who were child labourers in 1900. Politicians will take long-term threats more seriously, because there's a good chance they'll be seeing the consequences.

At the same time, accidental death would be more frightening. We'd probably be a more cautious species - the effects of this would flow into many areas. Technological progress would slow from a furious boil to a reasonable simmer as society would have more time to think about the New Things critically and test them with greater rigour. Think of how many lives have been lost over the decades because we were blazé about Asbestos.

At the same time, there might be greater hierachy related to age. The young might have less of a say in society, as they are encouraged to gain more knowledge and experience first. Those who are close to the end of their lifespan might be treated worse, because this is a more distant prospect to most people. Though it might not necessarily turn out that way; since people live longer they are more likely to become disabled by accidents, so society puts more resources toward ensuring the disabled and eldrely can live full lives.

Tasha, The Satyr-Maiden

Part 1 | Part 2 coming soon

types: satyr, breeding/pregnancy kink, ovipositor

At my brother's wedding there was nobody better suited to make the speeches than a satyr. Never mind that public speaking would drive Tasha into a nervous spiral for an hour beforehand. No, she was always expected to be the natural-born presenter. I hated my family for their closed-minded ways and felt a similar way toward Tasha's parents, who expected her to put on a show at any major function and be their respectable satyr-daughter.

But, she did look mighty fine from the side. A ray of light hit her through the chapel windows as she stood up to make her speech about people she barely knew. Her face was slender and long - her ears were like two floppy muscle shells and the fur on them was a pleasant grey. When she had to make a speech, she spoke in breaths that halted at the end of each sentence.

She wore a modest skirt with buttons in an attempt to conceal her ass, but her curves couldn't be fully contained. A warmth crept up toward my womb. I couldn't help but take in her solid shoulders, her powerful arms and hands - that is where her real confidence lay.

She spotted me out the corner of her eye, and that made her lose concentration. Damn! I felt so guilty I looked away at my idiot brother and his soon-to-be-wife, who was staring at her nails.

I got up to stock up on nibbles and cake, and I realised I'd left a nice sticky mess on the seat.

When I got back with a platter full of goodies, the atmosphere had become dreadful. My Tasha was slumped onto her seat and she had a stormy look. Words Had Been Said.

There was no pleasing these fools. I walked her back to her car and I stole the platter, because she would be ravenous when she calmed down.

At our ranch, Tasha stared out the kitchen window, she had been quiet for seven whole hours on the trip back. I still felt guilty, about distracting her and about not Having Words with my family. I intended to make her feel better. I slipped an arm around her and felt the muscles below her diaphragm relax.

"You didn't do anything wrong. If that's what you're thinking." She said in her soft, gravelly voice.

I traced the soft skin in between her ribs.

"I just felt like I messed things up for you." I said. Then my fingers inched toward her breasts and I lightly pinched a single nip and she let out a sigh.

"The other too." she sighed again, and I obliged. Then she leant her bountiful ass into me and I nearly fell backward.

"I should have never accepted their requests. They will learn to accept me soon enough." she said as I started making circles around her breasts.

"They won't. Fuck that kind of family. You're the only kind of family I want." I said - my throbbing mess wanted to feel her thighs.

She seemed surprised by this and she pulled away from me, turning to face me, the tips of her ears fluttered a little.

"You know, last time this happened to me, my ex was too afraid to even come back with me. He stayed by his family and then came back to me later trying to say he loved me. But when he left me, it was over." said Tasha. Then she went to a huge jug of coffee that had been brewed in the morning and gave herself a big ol' cup.

"What I'm saying is I trust you, my dear. Because I know you won't leave me out in the cold." she replied.

I felt relief at not having done her wrong, but I still had that painful thirst for her, as she loved to toy with me and deny my pleasure.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that." I whimpered so apologetically, as if I were the one who had left her in the cold. She smiled with a look in her eye that I hadn't seen before. She guzzled the whole mug of the cold black stuff in one magnificent swoop, then she cupped my chin in her left hand.

"It's high time we made something together." she whispered, making my hairs stand on end.

At the start of our relationship, I looked for advice what to expect when dating a satyr woman. The satyr women are a wilder people, the other human women said. But, if they if she trusts you enough, she can impregnate you with her own eggs and a spell, and you can give birth to...things. Little biological machines, given just a pinch of life force and a purpose (of course, you could create a baby if you truly wanted).

Tasha slapped me on the ass. "Get out of your head and into bed" she commanded me. So I rushed off to our bedroom and I fell into the lush duvet on our king-sized bed. My wetness was leaving a damp mark on my jeans that was only getting larger.

I slipped out of everything so when Tasha walked in, her eyes surveyed me up and down admiring my hills and my valleys as if I were a picturesque piece of land she was going to fuck.

"Now, this is important my dear. What sort of thing do we want to make?" she said. I was at a loss. I just wanted her to fall on me. Then I thought of the the garden, for some strange reason. The aphids were killing all the roses in the yard.

"I wish for a ladybug to kill the aphids" I replied.

Tasha cocked her head to the side in slight confusion as she knew nothing of gardening, only that its results could sometimes be delicious.

"Then a ladybug we shall make." she said and her eyes fell on my glistening lips. She leaned over me and put a hand on my lower belly, whispering in my ear a spell in the divine language of Dionysia and a little knot I didn't know existed before widened within me.

"The spell is to protect your womb, my dear, and to kill any pains of labour." she said. I stared her in the eyes. I had no patience left, I stole the first kiss from her and how soothing her lips felt. Offended, she pulled away and made revenge kisses down my neck, and I inhaled the faint woodland scent of the fur on her shoulders. Then my hands reached for her shirt and nearly ripped the buttons off opening it, grabbing her already numb B-cups, Tasha moaned into me.

She wouldn't let me have it for long and she forced me back down, her arms wrapped their way around my lower back and she kissed my nipples like they were the last thing on earth. I tried to buck my hips to find some friction on her, but she wouldn't give me any.

"I'm not gonna knock you up yet, my little princess." she commanded, making her way down to my belly, she lifted me and held my ass with her muscular frame, kissing circles around my hips and then skin below my belly button for agonising minutes. I complained and wailed at her, and my throbbing clit poked out a little from under my folds and she couldn't help herself from dipping her tongue in, circling it, until I felt her lips gently suck on it and I saw her goat-like ears just flopping onto both my thighs.

My hips bucked against her lightly, finding enough rhythm between us to send me over the edge, and the contractions rolled through me, drenching the bedsheets in puddles. Yet she had merely ploughed me, she was yet to fertilise me, she still needed to fill my cavernously empty cunt.

Tasha got out from between my legs and away from the bed and she stood over me. She had a devious expression on her face. She still had her black pants on, and there was a delicious bulge in them. It was her ovipositor, her girldick, I needed it. Now.

She said only one word - "Beg".

I got on my knees and spoke of how I'd write stories about her, I told her about how I'd let her fuck me in the mornings, but she soon stopped me.

"Romantic, but that is not at all necessary my love. You never mentioned letting me wipe the wall with your body" she said so smoothly.

"No, but I might you." I replied, surprising her. Her nipples swelled at the suggestion and she let me ram her muscular frame against the wall. Then she let me run my hands down her rugged curves, over the fine golden hairs that ran in between her breasts and covered her belly like beautiful, rampant weeds. My fingers unbuckled her belt, but the her leg found itself between my thighs. My mind lost control of my body, my hips grinded wildly against her leg. I have to admire her restraint, I was ruining her favourite pants, our nipples rubbing togeather, and her bulge so tantalisingly close.

Then she took back control and slammed me against another wall. My hands finally unbuttoned her fly and then slipped off her pants. Underneath was her smooth ovipositor, erect, wide open and covered in her own stickiness. I held her ass and pushed her ovipositor into my mess, but she thrust only very lightly and shallowly to tease me. I bought my whole body weight down on it, Tasha’s eyes fluttered, and her knees bucked. I gripped her ass, encouraging her to fill more of me. That drove her wild, as if she were almost possessed, and she forced me into a mating press against the wall. She pinned me like a picture frame. The picture - Tasha, thrusting ever more greedily and deeply into me, her willing mate, my feet no longer touching the floor. Her tension gradually built within me, until she burst, my moans went with her rhythm as her eggs pumped into me.

To be continued…

Part 1 | Part 2 coming soon!

Don’t worry, I won’t make them immortal without their consent, though it is not really in my best interest anyway. There’ll be kill runes which give them a reasonable lifespan until their soul is promptly yoinked from the mortal plane.

I’d be 100% a necromancer if possible. But I wouldn’t be the type that brings back mindless hordes of zombies. There are plenty of other ways to be…ethically ambiguous.

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