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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 2 days ago

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i beg of you to write more mary x f reader I BEEEGGGGGGGGGGG

Title: Who You Belong To [18+]

Ship: Female!Reader x Mary (Sinners 2025)

Read Part One Here | Main Masterlist

Summary: After Mary turns you, the two of you work on your dynamics as she ushers you through your new life without the sun, and with some odd cravings that bring out Mary's darker side.

Warnings: Blood, biting, cannon-typical violence, pet names (Darling, sweet girl, all the fun southern dialects), fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving), dom/sub tones, use of good girl, blood drinking, implied death, fire, reader is with a man BREIFLY, jealousy, and horrible grammar I don't proofread!

[A/n: Thank you all so, so, so much for the positive response to the first part. Seriously, I've been in a writing slump for awhile, and Sinners has changed that, let me tell you. Let me know if you want to see more!]

The deadbolt on the front door had been flipped with finality. It’s inner-workings clicking and settling into place was what ended up stirring you. The open sign settling against the front pane of glass as it was turned around stole the last promise of sleep away. Normal, simple actions that should have been nothing more than quiet day-to-day actions were grating. Annoying. Deafening.

The first inhale after death is painful. That’s what they don’t tell you. After decades of your lungs wetly manipulating air automatically, once it’s given a brief reprise, they don’t’ want to cooperate. Not gracefully, at least. The cough that tore through you was dizzying. The way you shot up, unsticking yourself from the green felt on the pool table was painful.

When your fingers first found the wound on your neck, two hollow puncture marks caked over with bullet-sized scars, firm and crusted over from time, you thought it was her hand. Mary’s. It was an instance of memory, a word that your brain supplied. Your fingers were too cold. Too dead to be yours. After all, you had only known warmth from yourself.

She turned from her place at the window, curiously lifting a brow at you trying to collect yourself teetering on the edge of the pool table. Your chest heaved and your eyes were feral. Darker than they had been before she’d ripped into you.

The strawberry pulp of your blood had dried against the curve of her chin, the perfect jut of her collar bone where you’d unbuttoned her shirt. The silk was ruined. Soaked through with you. None of that seemed to bother her. When she walked closer to you, she did so with the confidence of approaching a trained dog.

Her presence, you realized, was needed. Calmed you. Eased the tension in your shoulders and slowed your breathing if just by a second. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just let a beautiful woman rip out my jugular for a quick fuck.”

“There ain’t nothing quick about forever,” Mary purred. The words felt genuine as they slipped past her lips, smooth like velvet. She looked and acted like a predator, but was soft around the edges.

She reached out a hand, and when you took it, you were met with a warm familiarity. Not more electric coolness. You tightened your fingers around her own in an instinct of learned yearning for closeness. For comfort after a traumatic event. Mary helped you steadily off the pool table on unsteady legs, her other hand planted on your hip.

“Got anywhere to wash up in this place, darlin? A change of clothes?” she nudged your nose with her own, trying to draw your focus gently from the conflicting warning signs in your body. “You’re a vision covered in blood. It’s not comfortable though, is it?”

You breathed out, shook your head tentatively. Your neck was stiff and jaw was aching. There was a subtle burn at the back of your throat that reminded you much of longing. A longing so deep and primal that you were sure nothing would ever settle it.

Wordlessly you walked towards the door that rested just beyond the bar. Past a dingy plastic sink and cans of food that were unopened, dishes that needed to be done, was a stairwell up to your apartment.

It wasn’t anything special; a dingy room with a recliner in the corner, crowded yet cozy. Warm with the confines of the only place you’d lived in the past year. There was a bathroom and a dresser that held the few changes of clothes you owned.

You went through the motions as if you were cleaning yourself of silt that lined the swampy earth you’d played in as child. The blood would wash away much easier. You were fortunate enough to have heated water for the bar downstairs, the luxury extending to the tub.

While the steaming water filled the air with a rusted smell, and the floral soap tickled at your nose, you struggled to work at the button on your pants with clumsy fingers. Mary had been lingering in the doorway, but she stepped into your space then, moved your hands away and took over.

“I can feel how quickly your thoughts are moving.”

“Is that part of this? Being in my head.”

“No, no. Not all the time. But they’re loud right now. Hard to block out. You can ask me questions, babydoll. I know you’ve got em’. No reason to hold your tongue.”

A hum dislodged itself from your throat. She’d pulled your pants down and you used her shoulders to steady yourself as you stepped out of them. Mary’s eyes flashed with an admirative hunger at the sight of you. The full sight of you.

You couldn’t help the arousal that shot through you: Mary on her knees, ill-lit eyes peering up at you as if you were the only thing in the world. Her devotion was confusing, all-encapsulating. She was a terrifying enigma who had taken your life and given you a new, strange one, all in one breath.

She stood, dragging her nails up your sides and dipping her chin to maintain eye-contact. Mary peeled her own shirt off, letting the pile into the corner next to yours, much duller than the pop of color that she provided.

It didn’t startle, nor shock you, when she slid into the tub behind you. It wasn’t a big tub, arms wrapped around you and breasts right up against your back. You sighed into her, were oddly comforted by the way this near stranger scrubbed the blood from the slope of your neck.

“Why me?” You rasped.

Mary was silent for a moment. A long moment that was filled by the shift of the water and the way she dragged the pads of her fingers over your knuckles to move the red pigment away. The lavender that swirled around the both of you was nothing but soothing.

“You seemed lost.” She answered, dragging her hands over your arms to curve the cold. “Not in the way of wanderin’ but in the way of not knowing how to start. And I’ve been there. Trapped within the purgatory of wishing there was something more.”

You shifted, turned ever so slightly and looked at her, the tenderness in her eyes. “What changed?”

“A night in a juke joint in the Mississippi Delta, that’s what changed.” She chuckled dryly, as if it was an inside joke. “Things are put into perspective real quick. You learn that all the big things that seem big sometimes aren’t. Sometimes the small things are what counts. And sometimes… it’s okay to be selfish.”

“Selfish, huh?”

“Well, you’re bewitching and I’m weak.” Mary chuckled. You could feel the movement rush through her. “So, what if I’m selfish. I’ll never see the sun again, I’ll take the closest thing that I can get.” Her head dropped to your shoulder, almost out of guilt. “No family. No one to come looking for you.”

“Mm, fuck. I should have trusted Albuquerque.”

“Babygirl, no one should trust Albuquerque. The city or the person.”

You snorted at that, shaking your head. She’d shifted so her chin was resting in the small of your shoulder, tantalizingly close to where she’d bitten you hours before. “Mm, you just wanted a pet.”

“And what’s so wrong with that?” Mary nipped lightly at your shoulder, soothed it quickly with her tongue. “I take good care of my things, darlin”

It had become apparent over the following year that you’d spent with Mary, that she did take very good care of her things. Though, she was possessive of them. Keeping a firm hand against the small of your back at all times. An arm around your shoulders or your midsection to keep you in her lap.

“Oh, now, come on” Stack led the angry red end of the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. “I think that’s just criminal. Damn fuckin’ criminal. They should have you locked up.”

You snorted, digging into your pocket for your own rolled cigarette. Stack matched your move pound for pound, watching as you closed the end of your teeth around the tip. He leaned close to you, enveloping you in the scent of clove and the deep spice of his cologne. He used the lit edge to ignite your own cigarette.

“Stack, you best back away from my girl if you want to keep all ten of your fingers.”

“Come on now, Mary!” He shot back with a strike of quickness and a roll of his eyes regardless. “I didn’t mean a thing by it. You better school her about her taste in music, I’ll tell you that much. Your girl or not, she needs helpin’ along in the blues department.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t make good on her threat. She handed off a bottle of liquor to Stack before depositing another paper-wrapped one into your hands. The three of you occupied a picnic table under a streetlamp, far away enough from the public to stay conspicuous.

“You do have horrible taste in music, baby.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Stack defended.

“Yeah, well. Didn’t have to say it so close to her face, did you?”

Stack growled at her. Nothing threatening or primal, something you’d learned was easy to do if you put enough air behind it. You were used to them bickering like this. Like siblings. Like people who loved one another deeply at one point, and had realized that it wasn’t love necessarily like that. Like beings who owed it to one another to try, and had valiantly.

Right now, you were her passion project and you’d accept her attention for as long as she’d give it. Be it days, weeks, or years. It was diligent, and it filled you with the kind of warmth you were missing your entire life.

You hadn’t truly lived until you died, and Mary was guiding you.

“I knew you were jealous when you took a train from Chicago to chew me out on a platform.”

“Wasn’t jealous then,” Mary snapped back, slipping her hand around your waist. “You fucked me halfway to Tuesday and left by the next. That’s called anger, Stack.”

“Same thing.” He shrugged, waved her off as if you hadn’t heard them have this same argument ten times over.

The spiced tobacco curled around your lungs with a warmth similar to the kind that Mary sparked against your skin. She dragged her nose across your cheek, breathing in, watching you devilishly as you flicked the white ash from the end before closing your lips back around the cigarette. You knew damn well what you were doing, watching her swallow the excess saliva in her mouth.

The smash of hard-rimmed glass drew your attention to the bar that quite resembled the one you’d burnt down months before. It tugged at a dull ache in your chest and culminated behind your jaw, much like the first time you’d dug your teeth into something truly alive, with a pulse. The first time you’d felt that zeal drain away at your volition.

A liquor store with a welcome sign at it’s edge was attached to the actual establishment. Hence why you camped out here. Alcohol still went down smoothly and with a softness unrivaled, but there was always easy prey here. Those who got too inebriated, putty in your hands.

“It’s going to feel strange for a bit, Babygirl.”

Mary had told you as the two of you sat in the dull darkness of an apartment she commandeered from a foreclosure. It was above a bookstore, one that buzzed pleasantly during the day and cushioned out the rest of the world along with the layers of newspaper and cardboard she’d plastered the windows with to keep sun out.

Her head was in your lap, body sprawled over the cotton sheets of the bed. Your body ached with a familiar niceness, fingers carding through Mary’s hair, occasionally tracing over her features. So delicate and breath-taking.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t done as she instructed. She didn’t’ need to guide you much, Mary essentially ripped the seal on the person she’d cornered and then the sharp, tantalizing scent of blood made the vicious burn in your throat worsen until you were latched onto whatever skin was exposed to you.

“Do you have a… preference?”

She chuckled and it was warm, peering up at you with eyes that were more blue than black. “No such thing. You’ll find that some circumstances work better than others. When people are alone. When they’re angry. Reckless.”

“Vulnerable.”

“It does make it easier, yes.” She resituated herself until she was sitting across from you, your knees touching and her hair falling elegantly over her shoulders. You almost whined at the loss of contact, but swallowed it down when she grasped your hands in her own. “Killing is not something I enjoy, but it’s necessary.”

“You’re going to make me do it on my own, aren’t you?” You scoffed dejectedly.

“Mm, there’s a learning curve.”

Mary could see the worry behind your eyes. Silenced it by leaning forward and pushing her lips against your own in the most delicate version of a kiss she had to offer. It sent chills down your spine, electrifying your skin where it met her own.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” She growled so deeply you could feel it in your own chest as it pressed against yours. “Just let your instincts take over, angel. They’ll do the rest.”

They did so diligently now. You didn’t think twice before digging the pointed edges of your teeth into whatever salted skin you could bring yourself close to. When the hunger burned, it burned deeper than anything you’d ever felt before. Something Mary promised would wear off eventually, and she hadn’t steered you wrong yet.

Often times, your mind would zero in on people like they were playthings first and humans second. The man who had thrown his bottle into the nearest wall and bellowed out drunkenly was an easy catch. Though he was twice your size by the looks of it. Mary gave your arm a squeeze, drawing your attention back to herself and Stack.

“Don’t think that’s your speed yet, darlin”

“Oh, come on, Mary!” Stack took a long pull of his drink, holding the bottle by the neck and letting the foam froth down his bearded chin. “Don’t coddle her. Y/n has been in a fair share of bar fights and that’s before you ripped her throat out on a pool table, which I’m devastated you torched by the way. She can handle herself. Can’t ya?”

“Sure can.”

Stack laughed with his belly and clapped a hand on your shoulder giving you a playful nudge. You couldn’t help but laugh with him, something that had a nervous edge to it, even as you glanced back at the man who was swaying on his feet and grasping at another amber bottle of beer himself. He talked louder than the rest, crueler about his women.

“Oh, I believe you sweetie, I do.” Mary’s accent came out thicker when she in fact, didn’t believe you, and was getting anxious about the turn of events. “Just, with men like that…”

“With men like that, the trick is to flirt.”

Stack wiggled his eyebrows and earned a hearty hit to the shoulder, nearly destabilizing him on the edge of the picnic table. Mary’s fingers had moved from your arm to trail against the base of your spine. The darkness of the night shielding you from thinly veiled judgement.

With a rumbled snarl, her lips pressed against your temple, she conceded. “Fine, fine. Take your shot.”

“Don’t think I can do it?”

Mary clenched and unclenched her jaw, plucking the cigarette from your lips and placing it between her own. The glowing end buzzing angrily in an orange sunset of color. There was a glossy look to her eyes that was unreadable, but she settled herself onto the tabletop next to Stack, gesturing vaguely.

That sparked something determined in your chest as you shoved your own drink into her hands and straightened out your clothes. Mary’s clothes, really. You had packed what you wanted into a burlap duffel bag before tossing the match into the heart of your families bar. You wore duller colors, items that weren’t made of silk but cotton. Things that were worn in well.

They interchanged with Mary’s now. Most of your wardrobe was a rotating door, much too soiled with your hasty meals. You were glad that you chose today to wear one of her finger pieces. A black silk blouse that cut low and exposed skin to your advantage in the southern heat.

You pushed your chest out purposely, watched Mary’s eyes narrow and darken to the point of primal hunger. You turned on your heel and walked towards the group of men that were roughhousing in front of the bar.

Their conversations and bubbling laughter started to drain away as you stalked closer with a confidence unmatched. The largest man, one who looked more attractive up close, with a chiseled jaw and an easy smile on his face, let out a low whistle.

“Hi pretty lady, you alone out here?”

The boys around him hooped and hollered, sizing you up like you were a prize. You’d seen men like this. Known men like this. Even before Mary had sunk her teeth into your throat, you held a certain level of anger towards their indifference as they occupied spots at your bar.

You gave him your sweetest smile “I was just traveling and gosh, the heat in these parts. I thought it cooled off once the sun went down.”

“A northern little thing, aren’t you?” He put his foot up on the seat of the picnic table, leaning forward. “I could offer you a drink, but it won’t do much. There’s a swimming hole right round’ back. Some privacy. That’ll cool you off real quick.”

“Why not both?”

“Woo!” a skinny man with slicked back black hair clapped his calloused hands “I like this woman, Tommy.”

He did too. You could see it in his eyes. You lifted your brow at him in question, an invitation, really. And he fell right into it when he handed you his newly opened beer. It was cold, which was nice as you wrapped your lips around the lip and took deliberately slow swallows.

You let out a slow, tantalizing sigh, leaning over the picnic table that separated you and Tommy. He smelled sickeningly like sweat and cinnamon candy. “That hit the spot.” You lowered your voice to a simmering growl. “Why don’t we go to that lake so you can find mine?”

It was filthy enough to render him speechless, so when you offered your hand, he took it without hesitance. It was damp in your own, almost slimy. But You could hear the way that his heartrate picked up to a deafening pace.

You could feel the hunger building deep within your stomach. That horrid, wanting, primal need that drove you to do exactly what you were doing now. The triumphant and lude murmurs from Tommy’s friends were nothing short of deplorable but they were soon swallowed by the cacophony of sound the forest around you created.

There was a dirt trail that led from the bar to the water. Tommy had pulled you to the edge of the water, snagging you by the waist after he’d peeled his shirt away and tossed it at the base of a tree. His chest was slick with sweat, your hand splaying against the brawn of it.

“I thought we were going to cool off.” You purred.

“Right after things heat up a little.”

Tommy pressed his lips to yours, and you kissed back, tasting the alcohol and the smoke on his breath. He squeezed your hip and tried to drag you closer to him. He was sloppy and unkempt and not nearly as gentle with his movements as Mary. The stubble on his face scratched at your skin, but none of that seemed to matter because soon the only thing you could hear was the rapid beating of his heart. All the blood that pulsed through his body.

Your hand moved to the belt of his pants, fooling with the belt slowly, but not making any real effort to undo it. Instead, your lips found his throat. You nipped at it softly, breaking skin and drawing a hiss from him.

“Ha, you’re a little feisty thing aren’t you.”

You hummed in response, dragging your tongue over the pinprick of blood that started to weep from the small wounds.

“What if you put that mouth to better use?”

Alright. That was quite enough. He was getting too cocky, and while the fun of the chase was half the battle, you could feel the saliva fill your mouth like hot honey. There was a hot pressure in your chest and throat and behind your eyes, surely a milky black by now.

So, you bit down. His grunt was garbled within a second, the tinny, polished taste coating your tongue. You gulped down the heat that filled your mouth, hearing the choked gasps coming from Tommy did nothing to deter you. He started to claw at your back. Opening and closing his mouth with wet noises.

Blood dripped down your chin, slicked across your chest and dampened your fingers as you wretched his chin further to the side to give you better access to your meal. You figured you’d never been this starved before, and never would be again until your next encounter.

Tommy went limp against you, his breath shallow and then nothing. A delicate arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you from your haze. Forcing you to unlatch your teeth from sticky tendons and salted skin.

“I think you’ve proven your point.” Mary looked down with unfathomable disgust at the dead man.

You pressed your spine against the opposite tree, dragging your arm across your face to smear away some of the pulpy blood before it dried in the nighttime breeze. One of Mary’s sculpted brows lifted as she crossed her arms over her chest, darting her calculated stare between you and what was left of Tommy.

At this point, it was easy to tell when Mary was displeased. She got a crinkle between her brows and a downturn to her lip. And boy was she pissed at you right now. She took a step closer to you, glowered down with darkened eyes illuminated by the moon.

“I don’t like the way he touched you.”

“I was touching him.”

“I don’t like that either.”

Mary clenched her jaw and snarled deep in her throat, bringing her lips so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of her breath but wouldn’t dare surge forward to connect them. Not with the envy pulsing through her like a heartbeat.

“I wish you weren’t so stubborn.” Mary placed her knee between both of yours, ground it into your center until you were to swallow a moan.

You frowned in confusion, tried to lean forward and connect your lips but she moved back, just out of reach.

“I’m not stubborn.”

“Darlin’ you are. You are, and you know how I know that? Because anyone else would have been on their knees begging for my forgiveness, devouring me until the sun rose and threatened to destroy us both. But instead, you’re struggling with the buckle of another mans belt.”

You lilted your head to the side, watched her carefully. She’d guided you through meals before, and it had never been like this. This was the first time you’d exercised your ability to seduce in order to get what you wanted, and it was getting under her skin. It gave you an unexpected thrill. One that pulsed straight to your core.

Her voice was a velvet whisper. “I need you to know who you belong to.”

Oh, you knew. It was hard to deny when she was trailing her hot mouth along your jaw and then your throat. Her teeth sharp, biting and hot as she soothed it with her tongue moments later. You clawed at Mary’s shoulders, trying to pull her closer.

“I know,” You whined out, sounding much too desperate “I know, Mary, promise.”

“I’m not convinced, you were all over him. Your tongue was practically down his throat.”

She was licking away at the blood you had spilled, ripping at the fabric of her own shirt before focusing on the drips that had sloped down your breasts. A gasp escaped you, head thrown back against the tree.

You whimpered, hands coming up to her hair “I was just doing what you taught me.”

“So needy,” She tuts, “I just don’t know if you deserve my mouth when all you seem to do is run yours against a mans.”

Mary’s fingers move past your waistband and dip into you. “A little jealousy and you’re already this soaked for me?”

She pulls away and earns another noise from the back of your throat before presenting her fingers. They’re wet with your arousal and you’re suddenly flushed with embarrassment. Both of her eyebrows lifted and you knew exactly what she wanted.

“I know how loud you like to get. Suck.”

Without a second thought, you opened your mouth and did as you were told, humming around her. You could taste your own slick, the salt on her skin. She relished in the way you gagged when she pushed deeper into your mouth, an attractive glint in her eyes. “That’s a good girl. So obedient. So you can follow social cues?”

Soon she pulled her hand away, dragging it down her front as she dropped to her knees and dragged your pants down to your ankles. You dutifully stepped out of them when she tapped your ankle, knowing the drill.

Mary lifted one of your legs over her shoulder. Her breath was hot against your thigh, so close to where you needed her most but not quite touching. She bit and nipped at the soft skin there sending shivers down your spine.

“Mm, he’d never get to touch you here.” She breathed against you “no one but me ever will.”

“No, no one but you.”

“So fucking pretty like this. At my mercy.” Mary licked a stripe across your pussy, earning a guttural moan from you that moved through the simplicity of the forest. Again, her tongue dipped in and you found purchase and balance by resting your hands on her shoulders, panting hard, growling harder. “All mine.”

She shifted her attention to your clit, sucking it the way she would enjoy a meal, much gentler than you, with more practice. “M-Mary, please. Fuck. Please.”

“What was that, angel? Couldn’t hear you over all that desperate whining.”

At this, you whined harder, hoping it would appeal to her softer side. “Please, Mar, I need to come.”

She hummed against you and the vibration of the noise only brought you closer to the edge. But then she showed mercy on you and slipped the fingers you’d had in your mouth into you. The gasp that you would have produced got lodged in your throat.

“Good God, Darlin, you are close.” She started to pump into you, returning her ministrations to your bud. “Go ahead, come on my fingers.”

You let out a breath of relief in between the small whimpers she was pulling from you. But her movements stopped as quickly as they started, dark rimmed eyes peering up at you. “Ah-ah only if you know exactly who owns this pussy.”

She felt you tighten around her fingers, sneered at the feeling of ecstasy that shot to her own core. It made her throat dry. Seeing you come undone under herself like this. She didn’t know how much longer she could edge you like this without coming apart herself.

“You do,” You moaned “you, you, you. Only you, Mary. Please.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

She returned to her ministrations and it didn’t take much to send you over the edge entirely. You felt yourself tense around Mary, breath panting and sweat coating your skin. Bliss exploded through you, fingers digging into her shoulders. You ground your teeth together to keep your noises of pleasure at bay, legs shaking, Mary coached you through your orgasm.

The woman that she was, pulled your pants back up and buttoned the fabric easily. She kissed your mouth, panting herself. “I might have a little problem with jealousy.”

“Little?”

“Medium sized.” She steadied you once more “You okay, angel?”

“Never better. You’re sexy when you’re pissed.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t make a habit of bringing it out in me.”

Mary smiled something shy then, reaching and plucking a leaf from your hair before flicking it to the side. Her breath was warm as it mingled with your own. Her scent clean and crisp despite the energy the both of you had just exerted under the pale moon.

You frowned, “You haven’t eaten tonight. Are you hungry?”

“I’ve eaten, Babygirl, don’t you worry.” She giggled, infectious. Beautiful and captivating.

The sun was due to come up in an hour, and Stack had wandered in search of his own meal. You were sticky with blood and the taste of yourself. Mary had a softer smile than before, one of admiration and affection. She took a small step back and held her hand out to you, a delicate gesture.

“Lets get you cleaned up. You’re a mess.”

“That’s not my fault.” You laughed, voice husky.

“Stubborn. Nothing but stubborn. You’re lucky you’re beautiful.”

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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 16 days ago

Text

Dont forget to say goodbye part 2

A/N: not proof read. This part will be a flashback to the 1800s and to wandas last days alive. Id suggest reading part 1 first

Warnings: religion, homphobia, witch wanda, blood, cuts, death, self inflicted death, sickness, blood, blade and sharp objects,

Word count: 1,5k

Summary: The last days of Wandas mortal life

The droplets of sweat left on Wanda’s neck turned cool, the church air sending shivers as it ran down her back. She was sat in the very back pew, watching intently as a girl with flour-coloured hair, bound together with a blue ribbon, stood at the podium. She read from the New Testament. If the scripture was always spoken by her, Wanda might just have become a devoted Catholic.

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” The girl smiled with flushed cheeks as the crowd praised her.

“Thank you, Penelope.” The priest gestured for her to step down before continuing to speak, but Wanda’s eyes were all but fixed on her.

Outside the church, she waited by their usual spot ‘til the crowd simmered out.

“Wanda.” The soft voice enveloped her before she even saw her.

“Hi, Poppy.” She smiled, embracing the girl.

“Did you like my reading?” Poppy asked, sparkling with excitement.

“Yes, you did wonderfully, my dear.” Wanda held Poppy’s hands in hers like she had so many times before. Her scent made its way into Wanda’s space, filling her whole world with the sweet honey, vanilla perfume which Wanda had gifted her on her birthday last year.

“Wanda, won’t you come with me to Mother’s party tonight? It will be such a drag without you there.” Poppy tugged at her hands, pouting.

“Poppy, you know very well you shouldn’t be seen with me. Why else do you think we meet in the graveyard?” Poppy’s hazel-coloured eyes turned away, her playful pout turned to sadness.

“I know. If they only knew you like I do, they would love you so. I just know it.” Wanda’s heart fluttered.

“As you do?” Poppy looked at her, befuddled.

“YOU KNOW I love you! I love you so, Wanda Maximoff.” She spoke her name so delicately, with care, like she was tasting each letter. She leaned in and pecked Wanda’s lips, something she had only started doing recently.

“I better go, lest Mother gets perturbed with me.” She rose to leave.

“Wait, I almost forgot—I have something for you.” Wanda pulled something from her pocket. “Turn around.” Poppy did, and Wanda wasted no time threading the necklace around her, clasping it in the back.

“There.” She spoke, grabbing Poppy’s waist and spinning her around to inspect her. Poppy touched the glass vial now perched on the swell of her breasts.

“What is it?”

“A poppy.” Wanda smiled. “I picked so many, watched them dry—it takes longer than you might think. I went through them all to make sure you received only the prettiest one, though none can, of course, measure to your beau—”

Poppy swung her arms around Wanda’s neck, holding her tight.

“It’s perfect.” She spoke next to Wanda’s ear.

********

Wanda sat alone in her dim apartment, candlelight flickering across cracked walls. She threaded the needle through the stretched linen, adding yet another petal to her embroidery.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Poppy stumbled in, eyes bloodshot and trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke, out of breath, “Wanda… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me…”

Before Wanda could answer, a strong hand grasped Poppy’s arm. Her father appeared, calm but firm, guiding her gently away. She struggled against him, fighting to stay.

“Penelope, I will not accept this behavior.” He tugged her harder this time, forcing her through the door.

The priest and two council members entered, their expressions unreadable but grave.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Wanda tried to follow Poppy’s cries from downstairs but was shoved to the ground by one of the men. The councilman’s voice cut through the room like a verdict.

“Wanda Maximoff, your presence is no longer welcome in this town. You are to leave and never return. You have corrupted what we hold sacred.”

“In God’s name, we banish you, demon,” the priest spoke.

They threw the vial necklace at Wanda’s feet. It shattered on the floor, fragile and final.

********

Once certain they were long gone, she put on her cloak and crept toward Poppy’s home, desperate to reach her—to tell her she was not mad, that she still loved her.

From the shadows, she overheard Poppy’s voice, trembling and broken.

“Oh, my poor Poppy,” Wanda mumbled to herself as she got closer to the window. The voices now clear.

“Tell me, child, who led you astray?” Poppy’s mother spoke.

“It was Wanda,” she sobbed. “She compelled me with her wicked ways. She speaks to Satan himself. I’ve seen it. She must be stopped,” she cried.

Wanda’s breath faltered, caught like a bird in a tightening snare.

The friend she cherished, the soul she trusted… had turned away from her.

***********

Wanda’s rage knew no bounds. Her heart had been ripped open and dissected like some sick experiment at the hands of the woman she loved.

She drew her matches in quick succession, almost breaking the twigs as her hands sought to enact the anger which pulsed in her veins.

“No shadow of turning,” she spits. “And yet she turned, oh how she turned!”

She sliced her palm, letting blood trickle from her fist into the open flames, shaking in anger as she spoke.

“Audi me, sanguis meus, flamma mea.

Sicut ignis purgat, ita cor meum ardet.

Tradita fui, et tradam.

Nomen eius in cinerem,

Verba mea in vincula—” her words turned to screams—

“Et si amor moritur, moriatur mundus!”

As the last word fell from her tongue, she collapsed.

**********

It took only two days before the priest fell ill, then the councilmen, then the gossiping bitches from church. They said it started with a bloody nose and escalated ‘til the fever took over you so wholly that death could not come fast enough.

Wanda had never felt such power before. She radiated with it as her revenge plunged the town below her into death.

Alas, her victory was swift, as it all crashed down upon her the day she found out Poppy had become bedridden. Not her. The curse was never supposed to touch her. She could not let anything happen to her Poppy. No matter the betrayal, she would heal her.

Wanda’s footsteps echoed through the empty streets, the once lively town now hollow and deserted. Shadows clung to crooked rooftops, and the air hung heavy with the sickly stench of rot and decay. Overhead, crows circled ominously, their harsh cries piercing the stillness.

She quickened her pace, drawn toward the faint scent of honey and vanilla drifting from a small cottage. Inside, soft coughing and fragile breaths whispered through cracked windowpanes.

“Poppy,” Wanda whispered, pressing her hand to the cold glass, longing to be near.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing a tall man with eyes darkened by worry and resolve.

“You mustn’t come any closer,” he said quietly but firmly. “She’s ill. It’s best this way.”

Wanda’s heart clenched, but she dared not protest. Her fingertips brushed the wooden frame as the door shut between them, sealing her outside in the chill night.

She listened for a while as the family prayed over their sickly daughter. Over and over they pleaded. And just this once, Wanda wished this stupid god they all cried out to would finally answer. For if he was real, he couldn’t have let this angel die just to punish her.

*********

The next day, Wanda hadn’t slept a wink. She could not sit there letting Poppy suffer. She must go and heal her at once, no matter who stands in her way. She dressed in a hurry and grabbed her herbs. She pulled the curtains and blinked the early morning sun out of her eyes.

Yet another casket was being carried below her window. On a different day, she would have gleamed at their demise, but she was highly aware of poor Poppy’s impending doom. She was just about to turn away when she saw the man carrying the casket. His familiar dark brown hair. The women trailing behind it—can’t be.

The casket was adorned with a bouquet of roses bound by Poppy’s favourite blue ribbon. Wanda’s knees met the wood floor with a heavy, broken sound, her palms catching against the splintered glass that littered the floor. Shards sliced into her hands and knees, lodging under skin as she crawled forward, breath trembling, vision blurred.

Glass drove beneath her fingernails, sharp and cruel, but she made no sound. Her focus never wavered.

The dried poppy lay there, still intact.

She picked it up delicately with bloodied fingers and brushed the dust from it like it were sacred.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Poppy.”

Her thumb trembled as it passed over the tiny dried flower, now stained faintly red from her own blood.

With a quiet, choked breath, she rose and staggered to the altar. The dagger was waiting—simple, iron, familiar.

Her fingers closed around the hilt.

Tears ran freely now, unchecked. Her breath hitched in gasps, her mouth opening to cry but no sound came.

Then, with a final, desperate cry, she drove the dagger into her chest.

The candles flickered. The room held its breath.

Wanda collapsed, cradling the poppy to her chest as everything went still.

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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 21 days ago

Text

Dont forget to say goodbye part 2

A/N: not proof read. This part will be a flashback to the 1800s and to wandas last days alive. Id suggest reading part 1 first

Warnings: religion, homphobia, witch wanda, blood, cuts, death, self inflicted death, sickness, blood, blade and sharp objects,

Word count: 1,5k

Summary: The last days of Wandas mortal life

“Thank you, Penelope.” The priest gestured for her to step down before continuing to speak, but Wanda’s eyes were all but fixed on her.

Outside the church, she waited by their usual spot ‘til the crowd simmered out.

“Wanda.” The soft voice enveloped her before she even saw her.

“Hi, Poppy.” She smiled, embracing the girl.

“Did you like my reading?” Poppy asked, sparkling with excitement.

“Wanda, won’t you come with me to Mother’s party tonight? It will be such a drag without you there.” Poppy tugged at her hands, pouting.

“Poppy, you know very well you shouldn’t be seen with me. Why else do you think we meet in the graveyard?” Poppy’s hazel-coloured eyes turned away, her playful pout turned to sadness.

“I know. If they only knew you like I do, they would love you so. I just know it.” Wanda’s heart fluttered.

“As you do?” Poppy looked at her, befuddled.

“I better go, lest Mother gets perturbed with me.” She rose to leave.

“There.” She spoke, grabbing Poppy’s waist and spinning her around to inspect her. Poppy touched the glass vial now perched on the swell of her breasts.

“What is it?”

Poppy swung her arms around Wanda’s neck, holding her tight.

“It’s perfect.” She spoke next to Wanda’s ear.

********

Wanda sat alone in her dim apartment, candlelight flickering across cracked walls. She threaded the needle through the stretched linen, adding yet another petal to her embroidery.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Poppy stumbled in, eyes bloodshot and trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke, out of breath, “Wanda… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me…”

Before Wanda could answer, a strong hand grasped Poppy’s arm. Her father appeared, calm but firm, guiding her gently away. She struggled against him, fighting to stay.

“Penelope, I will not accept this behavior.” He tugged her harder this time, forcing her through the door.

The priest and two council members entered, their expressions unreadable but grave.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Wanda tried to follow Poppy’s cries from downstairs but was shoved to the ground by one of the men. The councilman’s voice cut through the room like a verdict.

“Wanda Maximoff, your presence is no longer welcome in this town. You are to leave and never return. You have corrupted what we hold sacred.”

“In God’s name, we banish you, demon,” the priest spoke.

They threw the vial necklace at Wanda’s feet. It shattered on the floor, fragile and final.

********

Once certain they were long gone, she put on her cloak and crept toward Poppy’s home, desperate to reach her—to tell her she was not mad, that she still loved her.

From the shadows, she overheard Poppy’s voice, trembling and broken.

“Oh, my poor Poppy,” Wanda mumbled to herself as she got closer to the window. The voices now clear.

“Tell me, child, who led you astray?” Poppy’s mother spoke.

“It was Wanda,” she sobbed. “She compelled me with her wicked ways. She speaks to Satan himself. I’ve seen it. She must be stopped,” she cried.

Wanda’s breath faltered, caught like a bird in a tightening snare.

The friend she cherished, the soul she trusted… had turned away from her.

***********

Wanda’s rage knew no bounds. Her heart had been ripped open and dissected like some sick experiment at the hands of the woman she loved.

She drew her matches in quick succession, almost breaking the twigs as her hands sought to enact the anger which pulsed in her veins.

“No shadow of turning,” she spits. “And yet she turned, oh how she turned!”

She sliced her palm, letting blood trickle from her fist into the open flames, shaking in anger as she spoke.

“Audi me, sanguis meus, flamma mea.

Sicut ignis purgat, ita cor meum ardet.

Tradita fui, et tradam.

Nomen eius in cinerem,

Verba mea in vincula—” her words turned to screams—

“Et si amor moritur, moriatur mundus!”

As the last word fell from her tongue, she collapsed.

**********

Wanda had never felt such power before. She radiated with it as her revenge plunged the town below her into death.

She quickened her pace, drawn toward the faint scent of honey and vanilla drifting from a small cottage. Inside, soft coughing and fragile breaths whispered through cracked windowpanes.

“Poppy,” Wanda whispered, pressing her hand to the cold glass, longing to be near.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing a tall man with eyes darkened by worry and resolve.

“You mustn’t come any closer,” he said quietly but firmly. “She’s ill. It’s best this way.”

Wanda’s heart clenched, but she dared not protest. Her fingertips brushed the wooden frame as the door shut between them, sealing her outside in the chill night.

*********

Glass drove beneath her fingernails, sharp and cruel, but she made no sound. Her focus never wavered.

The dried poppy lay there, still intact.

She picked it up delicately with bloodied fingers and brushed the dust from it like it were sacred.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Poppy.”

Her thumb trembled as it passed over the tiny dried flower, now stained faintly red from her own blood.

With a quiet, choked breath, she rose and staggered to the altar. The dagger was waiting—simple, iron, familiar.

Her fingers closed around the hilt.

Tears ran freely now, unchecked. Her breath hitched in gasps, her mouth opening to cry but no sound came.

Then, with a final, desperate cry, she drove the dagger into her chest.

The candles flickered. The room held its breath.

Wanda collapsed, cradling the poppy to her chest as everything went still.

11 notes · View notes

maximoffslilwitchintraining · 25 days ago

Text

Dont forget to say goodbye part 2

A/N: not proof read. This part will be a flashback to the 1800s and to wandas last days alive. Id suggest reading part 1 first

Warnings: religion, homphobia, witch wanda, blood, cuts, death, self inflicted death, sickness, blood, blade and sharp objects,

Word count: 1,5k

Summary: The last days of Wandas mortal life

“Thank you, Penelope.” The priest gestured for her to step down before continuing to speak, but Wanda’s eyes were all but fixed on her.

Outside the church, she waited by their usual spot ‘til the crowd simmered out.

“Wanda.” The soft voice enveloped her before she even saw her.

“Hi, Poppy.” She smiled, embracing the girl.

“Did you like my reading?” Poppy asked, sparkling with excitement.

“Wanda, won’t you come with me to Mother’s party tonight? It will be such a drag without you there.” Poppy tugged at her hands, pouting.

“Poppy, you know very well you shouldn’t be seen with me. Why else do you think we meet in the graveyard?” Poppy’s hazel-coloured eyes turned away, her playful pout turned to sadness.

“I know. If they only knew you like I do, they would love you so. I just know it.” Wanda’s heart fluttered.

“As you do?” Poppy looked at her, befuddled.

“I better go, lest Mother gets perturbed with me.” She rose to leave.

“There.” She spoke, grabbing Poppy’s waist and spinning her around to inspect her. Poppy touched the glass vial now perched on the swell of her breasts.

“What is it?”

Poppy swung her arms around Wanda’s neck, holding her tight.

“It’s perfect.” She spoke next to Wanda’s ear.

********

Wanda sat alone in her dim apartment, candlelight flickering across cracked walls. She threaded the needle through the stretched linen, adding yet another petal to her embroidery.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Poppy stumbled in, eyes bloodshot and trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke, out of breath, “Wanda… I’m so sorry. Please forgive me…”

Before Wanda could answer, a strong hand grasped Poppy’s arm. Her father appeared, calm but firm, guiding her gently away. She struggled against him, fighting to stay.

“Penelope, I will not accept this behavior.” He tugged her harder this time, forcing her through the door.

The priest and two council members entered, their expressions unreadable but grave.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Wanda tried to follow Poppy’s cries from downstairs but was shoved to the ground by one of the men. The councilman’s voice cut through the room like a verdict.

“Wanda Maximoff, your presence is no longer welcome in this town. You are to leave and never return. You have corrupted what we hold sacred.”

“In God’s name, we banish you, demon,” the priest spoke.

They threw the vial necklace at Wanda’s feet. It shattered on the floor, fragile and final.

********

Once certain they were long gone, she put on her cloak and crept toward Poppy’s home, desperate to reach her—to tell her she was not mad, that she still loved her.

From the shadows, she overheard Poppy’s voice, trembling and broken.

“Oh, my poor Poppy,” Wanda mumbled to herself as she got closer to the window. The voices now clear.

“Tell me, child, who led you astray?” Poppy’s mother spoke.

“It was Wanda,” she sobbed. “She compelled me with her wicked ways. She speaks to Satan himself. I’ve seen it. She must be stopped,” she cried.

Wanda’s breath faltered, caught like a bird in a tightening snare.

The friend she cherished, the soul she trusted… had turned away from her.

***********

Wanda’s rage knew no bounds. Her heart had been ripped open and dissected like some sick experiment at the hands of the woman she loved.

She drew her matches in quick succession, almost breaking the twigs as her hands sought to enact the anger which pulsed in her veins.

“No shadow of turning,” she spits. “And yet she turned, oh how she turned!”

She sliced her palm, letting blood trickle from her fist into the open flames, shaking in anger as she spoke.

“Audi me, sanguis meus, flamma mea.

Sicut ignis purgat, ita cor meum ardet.

Tradita fui, et tradam.

Nomen eius in cinerem,

Verba mea in vincula—” her words turned to screams—

“Et si amor moritur, moriatur mundus!”

As the last word fell from her tongue, she collapsed.

**********

Wanda had never felt such power before. She radiated with it as her revenge plunged the town below her into death.

She quickened her pace, drawn toward the faint scent of honey and vanilla drifting from a small cottage. Inside, soft coughing and fragile breaths whispered through cracked windowpanes.

“Poppy,” Wanda whispered, pressing her hand to the cold glass, longing to be near.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, revealing a tall man with eyes darkened by worry and resolve.

“You mustn’t come any closer,” he said quietly but firmly. “She’s ill. It’s best this way.”

Wanda’s heart clenched, but she dared not protest. Her fingertips brushed the wooden frame as the door shut between them, sealing her outside in the chill night.

*********

Glass drove beneath her fingernails, sharp and cruel, but she made no sound. Her focus never wavered.

The dried poppy lay there, still intact.

She picked it up delicately with bloodied fingers and brushed the dust from it like it were sacred.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Poppy.”

Her thumb trembled as it passed over the tiny dried flower, now stained faintly red from her own blood.

With a quiet, choked breath, she rose and staggered to the altar. The dagger was waiting—simple, iron, familiar.

Her fingers closed around the hilt.

Tears ran freely now, unchecked. Her breath hitched in gasps, her mouth opening to cry but no sound came.

Then, with a final, desperate cry, she drove the dagger into her chest.

The candles flickered. The room held its breath.

Wanda collapsed, cradling the poppy to her chest as everything went still.

#maximoffslilwitchintraining #wanda maximoff #1800s #period #oc #witch #ghost #religion #dark

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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 29 days ago

Text

Dont forget to say goodbye

word count:2k

part 2

demon!wanda x reader

summary: reader is having some friends over and decides to play with ouiji board...

warning: demon wanda ig

It is starting to get close to midnight, and they’re still not there. You had invited your friends over for drinks and for some spooky fun. Yelena had gone to pick them up like an hour ago, but had yet to return. You were pacing around worrying something had happened to them when the door flung open.

“We´re back!” Yelena stumbled in through the door with a bag in each hand.

“I can see that. ” You said in a dry tone. “What took you so long, and what's all this?” You pointed at the bags. As they hit the counter the sound of clanking from glass bottles hitting each other went through the flat, and so the mystery was solved.

“You think we’ll need that much alcohol?” You asked as Thor wandered in with yet another bottle of liquor.

“Oh no, this one is just mine. ” He held the bottle close to his chest, directing his body away from you as you swiped your hand in front of him pretending to try and steal it.

“Well don't you think the ghosts would like some spirits too?” Yelena smirked. At the mere mention of a ghost, you could see Peter's face grow pale. You weren't entirely sure why he was here. When you had all first discussed doing the ouija board, he was clearly freaked out and if it wasn't for Thor insisting he’d come he would’ve more than likely stayed home. Steve wasn’t too fond of the idea either. He was steadfast in his beliefs that “ghosts don't exist”, and yet he refused to actually touch the board, only agreeing to watch the rest of the group play from afar. Thor full-heartedly believed in spirits and held no fear for the dead, only respect. You two had met through a Norse pagan coven, not many knew that this giant beefy guy was into reading runes and worshipping freja.

The person you really hadn't expected this night, was Yelena's sister. Natasha had really just meant to visit Yelena, but since she forgot these plans, Nat was simply forced to tag along. She didn't seem to mind all that much. She found herself a beer and a comfy spot on the couch.

You started setting up the board as Yelena handed out drinks.

“Are you joining?” Thor asked as he sat down next to Nat on the couch.

“Me? umm yeah sure why the hell not. ” She leaned forward her elbows on her knees. Watching you light the candles, kneeling on the floor by the wooden coffee table.

“Well great we get 5 people after all. ” You received a frown from Steve, who was walking toward the couch at a snail's pace.

“Alright! let's talk to some dead people. ” Yelena sat down opposite you. Peter took the last spot on the couch, nervously holding on to a glass of coke. Steve moved a chair to sit down in a corner he deemed at a safe distance.

“Alright, everyone two fingers on the cup. ” The original piece had been lost and so a glass replaced it. You started with the basics questions, is anyone there etc but nothing happened, which had steve saying I told you. You all sat in silence waiting for anything to happen. Yelena started talking out loud to any potential spirits, essentially just sharing her every thought. Natasha moved her pointer finger and placed it on top of yours taping them a few times. You smiled at one another, before looking back down. You tapped her back, but before Nat could respond the glass started moving. Everyone went silent, as it slowly moved across the board.

“Lena, are you moving it?” Steve sounded from the corner.

“Of course I'm not fucking moving it, I was in the middle of telling a story and they cut me off. “ Her eyes were fixed on the cup.

It was just about to reach the word “no” when peter freaked and pulled away his hand, accidentally knocking over his glass. The loud bang made everyone jump and let go of the cup. But things did not quiet down.

“It’s still moving, ” Yelena whispered moving away from the board. Everyone watched as it slowly circled no over and over til it all of a sudden went sliding off the board landing in Natasha's lap.

“Nope, I’m done ill be in the bedroom if you need me. ” Steve left the room slamming the door behind him.

They all watched Nat where she sat holding the cup in her hands.

“Is this normal?” She asked turning to you. You only shook your head unable to speak.

“What the hell did you do to piss off the ghost Natasha?” Yelena laughed.

“How is this funny?” Peter seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“Peter you wanna go check on steve for me?” He took you up on the offer clearly needing a break The rest of you got back to the board. Natasha was now slightly hesitant to put her hands back on the board.

Yelena was the first to speak. ”Do you not like my sister?” She asked and sure enough, the cup moved to no. Yelena clearly found it amusing. “Why not?” She pried. and it started spelling something out, C…A…N… “Can't keep her hands to herself” Yelena exclaimed. “Wow, Nat did you just slut shamed by a ghost?!” She laughed. Nat was however not laughing. You both looked at each other in confusion.

“I’m sorry Y/N I made you uncomfortable…” She started.

“What? No Nat I didn’t do that, you’re all good. ” She seemed to believe you but was clearly still unsettled. Yelena caught the moment and was quick to follow up.

“You don’t like Natasha touching Y/N?” It moved again spelling out something new. S...H...E...S…M.. I…N…E

With those words a shiver wet down your spine.

“Alright, that's a bit much even for me, ” Thor said nervously looking at you.

“Yeah, I think it's time to stop, ” Yelena agreed.

“Are you sure?” You were certainly creeped out, but also curious.

“Dude I don’t know much about this stuff, but that doesn't sound good. ” Natasha swiped the cup off the table.

“I say we go out?” Yelena stood up. Most everyone agreed, wanting to get the hell out of your flat as fast as possible.

“Boys! All clear!” Natasha yelled as she walked over knocking on the door. The two peeked out confirming that you had fact stopped.

“You wanna come with us out?” Thor barely had to say the words before Peter was putting on his jacket.

“You coming Y/N?” Yelena asked.

“I’m a bit tired I think I’ll stay here. ” You leaned back against the counter.

“I can stay with you, if you want?” Natasha offered, looking worried.

“I’m okay guys really just gonna watch a movie and then go to sleep. ” You smiled trying to reassure them.

“Alright, but I'm taking this. ” she picked up the board placing it under her arm. “Don’t want you messing around with that alone. ”

And with that, they all left. Were you scared to be left alone here? Hell yes, but something was urging you to stay and maybe that should have been your first warning.

You didn't bother blowing out the candles, they were black pillar candles that you had found in the flat when you moved in, and you found them quite comforting. You settled on watching The Adams family since it was just the right amount of spookiness for you at this moment.

After a few minutes, your eyelids got heavy and you are just about ready to drift off when the film comes to a stop. You frown reaching for the remote with a groggy vision, attempting to press play over and over, but all it did was a load.

“For fuck sake!” You yelled sitting up, and the tv went out. So did the lamp lit in the corner of the room. You froze, eyes set on the figure that was standing lurking in that corner. You wanted to run but couldn’t move an inch.

The figure started moving towards you and it was like a spell broke and you quickly hid under the blanket, certain you were about to be murdered, but nothing happened. Just silence. Until you felt the weight of someone sitting down next to you.

“Come on now don’t hide from me sweet thing. ” Fingers gently traced up and down your leg. Your cheeks became wet with tears as you prayed for it to go away.

“That’s not very nice. ” The voice growled, ripping the blanket off you in one motion. You scrambled away til you sat back against the other side of the couch. Across from you sat a woman, with long brown hair and glowing red eyes. She had a mischievous smile on her face, as she watched you try to get away.

“Now now sweetheart I’m not going to eat you. ” She giggled. “Or am I!” She launched forward, teeth clashing together inches from your face. The laugh she let was haunting nothing human about it. She quieted down and focused on your face. Her hand comes to your cheek, to wipe away a few tears.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared. ” She whispered leaning forward only to lick a teardrop of your cheek. She moved away, and her fingers traced up one of the black candles. Her fingertips were black and you found yourself mesmerized by them as they danced over the flame.

“I’m glad you like my candles. ” Her head turned back to you, a blank expression on her face.

“Yours?” you asked without thinking. She smiled dipping her fingers into the hot wax.

“Yes, mine. ” She tilted her head. “And now…” Her hand grabbed your face, her nails dug into your cheeks and jaw and the still hot wax burned your skin making you gasp. “... so are you. ” She leaned down licking her lips, before moving down and pulling down your shorts. You stared at her nibbling on your thigh, surprised by the suddenness of her action. Red eyes looked up at you from between your legs before moving in and licking up your pussy. You let out a moan as she sucked on your clit. You hadn't meant to be so loud but the woman clearly enjoyed your response, sucking harder. You closed your eyes leaning back, only for her to stop. You felt her climb up your body leaning in for a kiss, you leaned in trying to deepen the kiss, and she sucks your lip into her mouth before biting down roughly on it. Once she lets go you taste iron, lip stinging. She’s quick to lap up the blood, before leaning in and whispering in your ear.

“Look at you letting your guard down…” her hand wraps around your throat. “... silly little thing. ” Her grip tightens drastically, cutting off your airways. You struggle to try to loosen her grip, but she doesn't seem to notice, her smile is feral as she strangles you. Those red glowing eyes are the last thing you see before passing out.

Your eyes fly open. The clock on the wall tells you it’s 4 am. You sit up panting and looking around, she’s nowhere to be seen. The tv is on once more and the credits are rolling. The lamp is also on, and so are the candles. Oh thank god, it was just a dream you think to yourself. You turn off the tv and blow out the candles heading to the bathroom to shower and cool off before heading to bed. You hurry into the bathroom and lock the door still spooked by it all. You turn on the hot water and start to strip when you catch yourself in the mirror. You moved closer feeling the hair raise on your arms once more, as you stared at the bruise around your neck and the black wax going down your chest. You backed away from the mirror, and a pair of hands catch you landing on your back as a cold breath hits your neck.

“Oh good, you’re awake. ”

#wanda maximoff #maximoffslilwitchintraining #wanda x reader #demon wanda

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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii, is there a second part to "everything is not as it seems" ?

Yes

Part two was just kinda sitting in my drafts for over a year but now it exists✨

#maximoffslilwitchintraining #anon ask

0 notes

maximoffslilwitchintraining · 1 month ago

Text

everything is not what it seems part 2

A/n: this has been in my drafts forever

Word count:1,8k

Warnings: substances, dark wanda, sex p in v, wanda has a dick, pervy wanda

One, two and three, all the keys were there. You had ordered three of the locksmith and and they are all in your hand. She cant get in again. Its a relief knowing that. From now on you have to be careful. You could give a spare to your sister, one you’ll hide

You crashed on the couch falling asleep straight away. Surprisingly enough you slept incredibly well.

So when you woke up around noon, it was like you had forgotten all about Wanda. You rolled over in bed and grabbed your phone of the nightstand. A message from your sister thanking you for picking her up, and giving some updates on her car, brings it back. You recalled what you'd seen, Wanda in your bed. You flew up.

The bed? You could have sworn you fell asleep on the couch. You got up to find your clothes neatly folded, despite having no recollection of doing so. You grab your phone getting ready to reply to your sister but you're unable to find the message, instead, you find an unopened message from Wanda. Was it all a dream? you could have sworn you were awake opening your sisters message.

Wanda: You were looking for a job right?

You were unsure about answering. The rational thing to do would be to block her but, you did desperately need a new job having moved so far.

Y/N: Yeah why?

Wanda: Well I’m hiring at my bar atm.

You should say no. No. No tnx. Absolutely not.

Y/N: When can I start? :)

Wanda: That’s my girl x

Wanda: Tomorrow night?

Her girl? That should not have given you butterflies.

Wanda’s bar was much fancier than expected. You don’t know what exactly you expected but you felt like dirt entering the bar.

“You came.” Wanda approached with a pleased smile, like she had won some type of game, that can’t be good.

“Yeah I did.” Not sure what to say.

“What’s the job.” You look around.”do you want me as a cleaner?”

“Are you saying my bar is dirty?” She raised an eyebrow, you couldnt tell if she was actually offended or just yanking your chain.

“No! God no it’s amazing, I just… I'm not qualified to make drinks on this level. I kinda expected to make a rum and coke at most, but this isn't exactly a hole in the wall.”

“It’s not too shabby. Don’t worry you’ll learn quickly, I can tell.” She smiles and you can’t decide whether its unsettling or hot.

Your first day working at Wanda’s bar was a mess.

Not a disaster, exactly. But definitely a sticky, loud, overwhelming mess. The kind that left your back aching, your fingers smelling like limes and grenadine, and your brain in a slow crawl behind your hands.

The place was old, but charming. Velvet barstools, flickering amber lights, dark polished wood. A little gothic. A little decadent. A little… Wanda.

You’d shown up early, nerves on edge, clutching your apron like it might save your life. And there she was—Wanda Maximoff, your landlord-slash-accidental-bedmate-slash-creepy-neighbor—with her dark red lips, her too-smooth smirk, and an apron already tied around her waist like she belonged behind the bar.

“Ready for your first night, sweetheart?”

You weren’t.

Still, you nodded.

It took an hour before you dropped your first glass.

Another thirty minutes to get your first drink order wrong.

You spent most of the shift apologizing, tripping over bar mats, and asking Wanda to repeat the same drink recipes for the third time.

She never got mad.

In fact, she looked… entertained.

“You’re not bad,” she said with a smirk, watching you struggle with a cocktail shaker. “You just haven’t figured out who you are behind the bar yet.”

You didn’t know what that meant, but the way she said it made your skin prickle. Like she saw something in you that you hadn’t earned. Like she already knew.

By the end of your second day, you still hadn’t quit. That felt like a win.

And Wanda hadn’t fired you. That felt suspicious.

She lingered close behind you when you worked. Brushed your hand when you passed receipts. She called you darling when no one was around, and sweetheart when people were.

Maybe it was just her way. Maybe she treated all new hires like this.

But when she watched you wipe down the bar, you could feel it.

Like she was already imagining you in pieces.

By the third day, things started to feel… normal.

You got faster. You memorized three drinks. You smiled more.

Nothing weird had happened at home, either. No flickering shadows. No lipstick stains on your pillows. No mysterious scratches on the bathroom mirror.

Just long shifts. Bad sleep. And Wanda’s eyes. Always on you.

You were almost comfortable. Almost.

It was just past midnight when she asked you to grab more limes from the back.

You knew where they were now. Cold storage, second shelf, right corner. You didn’t even need to ask.

But you hesitated when you got there.

There was a door. Metal. Half-hidden behind soda crates. Barely cracked open.

You’d never seen it before.

You wouldn’t have noticed it—except you heard a voice.

“…please, Wanda, just one more.”

You froze.

Wanda’s voice came next—low, indulgent, almost amused.

“You know what happens when you push it, Alexei. Your brain melts. Remember that?”

The man—Alexei—sounded desperate. “But it was her. I saw her. She laughed. She kissed me. I need it again. Please, I just—I just want to go back—”

There was a pause. A beat.

You leaned closer to the door.

Then Wanda’s voice: “You always say that. But you keep coming back. So maybe you don’t care what it costs.”

A rustle. A click.

You peeked inside.

There she was. Wanda. In a lounge-like room with low lighting and shelves lined with glowing vials—light blue, violet, red. She stood over the man on the couch, cradling his jaw in her hand.

She was smiling. Calm. Pleased.

“This one,” she whispered, pressing a capsule into his palm, “will bring you back to the first time she kissed you. You’ll feel her breath. Her heartbeat. Her mouth.”

Alexei whimpered, clutching the pill like salvation.

“But it won’t last,” she added. “It never does. And next time? You’ll need two.”

You stepped back. The floor creaked.

Wanda’s head snapped up. Her eyes glowed red, just for a second.

You ran.

Or tried to.

The cold room door slammed shut behind you.

And then Wanda was there, emerging from the back with slow, measured steps. Her eyes calm now. Her smile polite.

“Did you get lost?” she asked, as if you hadn’t just seen her feed a man a memory like a drug.

“I… the limes…” You held up your empty hands. Shaking.

She tilted her head, stepping closer. “You weren’t supposed to see that. Not yet.”

Your throat tightened. “What was that?”

Wanda’s voice dropped. “An opportunity. One you might understand… eventually.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

She leaned in. Close enough to taste her breath.

“You’re still here, Y/N,” she whispered, her tone velvet and razor wire. “Ask yourself why.”

She leaves you with those words and you consider running in that moment. Where? Who knows, shes everywhere.

Of course—here’s a moody, tension-laced snippet that hits all the notes: Wanda offering a ride with just a hint too much insistence, Y/N reluctantly accepting, and things escalating into something dangerous and seductive at the doorstep.

The bar had just closed. You were drained—mind racing, skin cold, body vibrating from what you’d seen earlier in that back room. You’d spent the rest of the shift pretending everything was fine.

It wasn’t.

Wanda found you by the sink, clutching your bag like a lifeline.

“You look pale,” she said, voice soft but unreadable. “I’ll drive you home.”

“I can walk—”

“I’m driving you,” she repeated, this time without the pretense of gentleness.

You should’ve said no. You meant to say no.

But your legs moved anyway, and ten minutes later you were in her car, the leather warm against your thighs, her perfume heavy in the air.

You watched the streets blur past in silence, half-expecting her to take a wrong turn. To lock the doors. To do… something.

But somehow, you made it home.

Wanda parked smoothly, turned off the ignition, and tilted her head at you.

“Quit looking at me like that.” She spoke more like and order than anything else.

“Like what?.” Your tired voice was laced with annoyance.

“ like I skin puppies for a living,” .

You swallowed hard. “You drug people.”

“I help them escape their sad little lives.” Wanda puts on a fake smile.

“By getting them addicted to pills that do God knows what to them?” You faced her fully. “I bet you don’t even know what they do—” feeling bold you jump out of the car slamming the door.

Wanda laughed. Low and indulgent.

“Such a cocky little thing you are,” she said, leaning on the car. “So high and mighty. Must get tiring being so morally superior all the time.” She mocked.

You didn’t reply. You were already at your front door, keys shaking in your hand, heart rattling in your chest.

She followed. Of course she did.

“You going to invite me in?” she asked, smiling like she already knew the answer

“Since when do you ask?” Fuck why did you let that slip.

Wandas eyes turned dark at that and she slammed you against the door.

“If you dont want me to play nice just say so.” She growled.

****************

Oh god, what have you done? You had gone and found the biggest lunatic this town could offer and after watching her do several creepy and perverted things, you let her get on top of you. In your own bed, in YOUR house, for all you know, she plans to kill you once she’s done playing with you. And yet you lay there begging for more as she pounds into you. She’s calling you hers, and your stomach flutters at those words. I must be fucked in the head you think. This woman is crazy, but she’s awfully good looking and the way she felt was just-

“I finally have you. Now it’s just you and me dekta, no one’s gonna bother us again, I’ll make sure of it.” That made your heart drop. Those words bring you back to reality. She caught that fear in your eyes.

“Oh no sweetheart, don’t think about it too much. I know you're going to miss your friends at first, but you have to trust me I know what’s best.” She caressed your face softly, slowing down her pace a bit.

“Wanda, what-“ she shushed you.

“I told you not to think, so dumb sometimes.” Her hand wrapped around your throat. She looked into your eyes as they grew glassy, a few tears escaping down your temples. Wanda groaned at this quickly speeding up, fucking you much rougher than before. Seemingly turned on by the fear in your eyes.

“Oh god, baby please try to stay still I’m so… close.” She panted, squeezing your throat tighter as she used you to get herself off.

#maximoffslilwitchintraining #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #dark wanda maximoff

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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 2 months ago

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‘Mommy… I mean Wanda’ series

Wandanat x reader

Summary: Home for the holidays, you expect quite an uneventful trip, but the new neighbors may be able to prove you wrong.

Part 1: Mommy… I mean Wanda

Part 2: Come, we’ll give you a ride kitten

Part 3: Nervous?

Part 4: Secret spies and drunken nights