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bixels · 8 months ago

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Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

#mlp #yeah i wrote this last night during insomnia.#yeah i know an embarrassing amount of crap about this kids show #but whatever it's my hyperfixation i'll store as much useless information as i want!!!#i'm gay and neurodivergent i have an excuse #in case you needed more proof that aj's my favorite character #personal #delete later #unless you like this analysis stuff #i get why they didn't reveal aj's parent's death until way later and why they didn't do much with it but i wish they did #cuz narratively there could've been so much material with aj's grief. like. i feel like we gloss over the fact that she lost her #mother and father as a teenager #i tried keeping my personal hcs out of this to keep it unbiased #but i'll put some in the tags #involving rarijack –– i think aj can be (but not always) very self-conscious about her relationship with rarity #anxieties that she's not the right fit or that rarity will move away and leave her some day or that another woman will take her attention #(like in rollercoaster of friendship?? nudge nudge??). basic seperation anxiety stuff #long post #regarding applebloom whenever i think about her and her parents i think about that scene in steven universe where steven looks up at #a portrait of his mother and openly wonders what kind of sack lunches she would've made for him. that episode still fucks me up

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 year ago

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This is one of my favorite reaction images omg

Unhinged Wanda can also cut me up whenever 😔

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: your insane, psychotic best friend Wanda wants you all to herself after you go on a date with another girl. smut ensues ♡

content warnings: oh god where to start. get some holy water and read this in private ya’ll. jealousy, possessiveness, stalking, obsession, marking, choking, murder, knife play, blood kink, mask kink if you squint, restraints, sadism, masochism, pain kink, cunnilingus, foreign object kink, throat fucking with a knife, scissoring, degradation, wanda is INSANE you guys

word count: 5.2k+

masterlist

Only Yours

The chill of the night wraps around you, and you bite your lips to hide a smile as you fumble with your apartment key. With the help of a dim street light, you manage to find it, slipping it into the doorknob with trembling fingers as a sharp gust of wind makes it through your coat and settles deep in your bones. Still, it's not enough to dull the warmth of the successful date you’d been on all evening.

You’d had a lovely night, the two of you walking around a pumpkin patch as you talked for hours. By the end of it, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until your feet had started throbbing from walking around mindlessly. The slowly reddening skin of your cheek still tingles from where she’d kissed you, and you catch yourself smiling as you remember how shy she’d gotten right afterward. With the promise of a second date, you’d left after checking your phone to see several missed messages and calls from your best friend.

Worried that something was wrong, you’d left a bit earlier than you wanted, turning down your date’s offer to return to her apartment and watch a movie in favor of checking up on your best friend.

Your hand slips as you get lost in thought, turning the doorknob, and you frown slightly. You hadn’t turned your key yet, which meant that your front door was unlocked. Shrugging it off, and still riding the high of your successful date, you look around to ensure that nobody is behind you before slipping inside the dark entryway of your apartment.

Numb fingers scramble for the light switch, and you blink in confusion when the hallway remains dark after you flip the switch a few times. Sighing, you bend down, undoing the laces of your boots and making a mental note to pay your electricity bill in the morning.

Maybe you should schedule a doctor's appointment as well, seeing as you’d now forgotten to pay your bill (which never happened, you always remembered), and you’d somehow left your apartment unlocked the whole evening.

Your footsteps are soft as you make your way towards your bedroom, your eyes locked on your phone as you pull up your texts. As much as you loved your best friend, Wanda could be a little possessive at times. The evidence of this was clear as you scrolled up a few times to reach her first message, which coincidentally started as soon as your date had begun.

Rubbing slightly at your bleary eyes, you attempt to read the messages as you start thinking of ways to make it up to her. She really hated being ignored. Moving to stand in front of your window, you scroll and scroll, trying to comprehend each text.

It seemed as though Wanda had lost patience, each text more frustrated and desperate than the last. Scrolling to the end, skimming the texts that documented her slow descent into a possessive rage, your eyebrows rose at the final message that had pinged through.

‘Mark my words, you’ll never see her again.’

You scoff, having done this dance with her multiple times before. You’d go on a date, and she’d get jealous that your attention was focused elsewhere, even if only for a few hours. Then, you’d dedicate the entire next day to her, doing whatever activity she wanted until she was no longer upset with you.

This time felt different, and as you look at the timestamp on the last message, you realize why. She’d sent that last message around forty-five minutes ago, which was when your date ended. You’d stopped by the store to buy her favorite drink, as part of your apology that you’d planned out, but your date had only been a ten-minute drive from your apartment.

Wanda had never gone this long without texting you during one of your dates, and you bring up her contact before pressing the phone icon under her contact photo. Holding your phone close to your face, you put it on speaker while crossing your arms, peering out into the street as you search for her familiar red car. You don’t see it, and you frown down at your screen when your call goes straight to voicemail.

Something was wrong.

You feel something shift, the air around you moving slightly as you raise your head. Looking at your reflection through the glass of your window, you barely have enough time to register a figure in a ghostface mask behind you before strong arms wrap around you.

The phone clutched in your hand drops to the floor as you struggle briefly, the scent of blood filling your nostrils as you’re dragged towards the bed. A cold sensation presses itself against your neck, and you freeze in fear at the sight of a knife in the reflection of the window.

The sound of heavy breathing reaches your ear, and you can hear the stranger’s breath shake slightly as they pin you to the bed. You’ve given up fighting, terrified when the knife at your throat pricks your sensitive skin slightly and causes a dribble of blood to travel down the column of your throat and into the hem of your dress shirt.

Rough hands tighten a pair of handcuffs around your wrists, your hips thoroughly restrained by the figure’s strong thighs as they use some rope to secure the handcuffs to your headboard. You’ve never regretted buying a headboard with bars more than you do at this moment. You can feel your throat closing up in fear, your heartbeat strong and fast, threatening to send you spiraling straight into a panic attack.

As the ghostface figure sits back up, their gloved hands dragging slowly down your shaking arms, you catch a whiff of a familiar scent. The air becomes charged, vanilla hitting your nostrils as you breathe deeply against the knife pressed to your throat.

“I only know one person who wears vanilla perfume.” You manage to get out, your eyes boring into the eyes of the ghostface mask. The figure tilts its head, and you feel yourself relax marginally at the familiar sight. They press the knife harder against your throat, digging the tip in slightly, and you tense again.

“Wanda,” You begin, but before you can say anything else, a gloved hand muffles your lips as the knife begins tracing down your collarbone. A thin red line blooms across your soft skin, green eyes taking in the sight eagerly from behind the mask. The sensation is painful but causes pleasure to bloom at the same time, and your cheeks redden with shame as you feel your arousal slowly build.

“You know,” The voice is slightly muffled behind the mask, but you would know Wanda’s voice anywhere. You’ve practically committed her slight accent and lilt to memory, and you feel your heart speed up slightly at the low tone. “She wasn’t right for you. I could tell.”

You smile slightly, having heard those same words after every date. But not the last part, you hadn’t heard that before. You speak, your words muffled by her gloved hand as it presses roughly against your lips, “What do you mean, you could tell?”

Moving her hands quickly, the figure lays the knife on your stomach before reaching up to remove the ghostface mask. Brunette hair spills out, falling beautifully around the dark black sweater Wanda is wearing. She tosses the mask somewhere onto your floor, her green eyes piercing yours as she picks up the knife once more, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“You’re really oblivious, did you know that?” Her eyes are locked on the knife, sliding your shirt up slightly as she pops the bottom button off. It hits a wall somewhere, but you ignore it in favor of studying your best friend's face.

She’s acting different, her pupils dilated so far that the green in her eyes is practically non-existent. Her chest is heaving, her tongue licking her parted lips quickly as she pops another button, revealing more of your skin.

More of her canvas.

Her knife digs in, tracing a thin line from the top of your waistband to your belly button. Your attempt to squirm, the pain coursing through you as her thighs tighten against yours. She’s breathing heavier now, and the next words she speaks come out rushed and disjointed.

“You didn’t even know,” A low chuckle sounds out, heat blooming at your core as the sound wraps around you. “She was there, and I was there and you didn’t know.”

Your brows furrow, confusion taking over your mind as she pops a couple more buttons. She continues, her knife tracing over your ribs as her eyes roam your face. “She doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you need. Doesn’t know how to take care of you.”

The fog in your mind dissipates slightly, and you think you finally understand where this is going. “And you do?”

As soon as the question slips out, the sarcasm evident with every syllable, you regret it. Wanda’s eyes flash, and in one smooth movement, her knife twists under the front of your bra and cuts it, slicing through the rest of your shirt as she pulls back.

“Of course I do, sweetheart.” Her words are hissed, her hands rough as she removes your shirt. “I’m the only one who does.”

The knife is abandoned momentarily as Wanda traces her nails over the thin, red lines the cold metal had left behind. Swiping her thumb over the small cut on your neck, she brings it to her lips, groaning slightly as she sucks the blood off of her finger.

Watching, your lips part at the sight, almost against your will. You try to shake yourself out of it, out of whatever daze Wanda had put you in, but as soon as your head moves her eyes are back on yours.

“She tried to take you from me, they all did. So I took them away from you.” Her eyes are wide, her fingers frenzied as they dig into your skin, dragging from the underside of your breasts and down your torso. Harsh, raised lines appear, and you pant slightly as your hips raise in an attempt to throw her off.

“Didn’t you ever question why they never responded to you after the first date?” Her words cause you to stop struggling, your movements halting as the pieces begin to click into place. You remembered all the times you’d cried into Wanda’s shoulder because you couldn't understand what had gone so wrong on the first date, that caused every girl to ghost you the day after. Snapping your eyes to hers, you see her nod as realization dawns on your face.

Wanda chuckles, moving closer until her mouth is close to the cut on your throat. The sound sends heat straight to your core, and your mind is thrown back into a confused haze. “You really are dumb, you need someone else to do the thinking for you, sweetheart.”

Without any more preamble, her lips meet your skin and suck. It's been long, much too long since you’ve felt pleasure like this. You find yourself holding back moans as her lips continue to suck, her tongue dragging along your skin as she marks your neck. Her teeth are rough, digging into your skin slightly as dark bruises bloom in a ring around your throat.

You're hers. And now everyone will be able to see it.

A pathetic whimper escapes you, and Wanda smiles against your skin. That’s exactly what she’d been waiting for, and she pulls back briefly to take in your half-lidded eyes and blown pupils.

You have one last question, and before you can think too hard about the consequences of questioning Wanda, it pushes past your lips. “What do you mean, you took them away?”

The words hang in the air, silence filling the room as a slow smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face. She slowly reaches for her knife, a faraway look in her eyes as she traces the tip of it around your nipple. “I wasn’t going to risk you being taken from me.”

“Wanda.”

Her eyes meet yours, her gaze hot as she takes in your pleading expression. She sighs, knowing that you won’t let the topic go until you're satisfied with her answer. Digging the tip of the blade into the top of your breast, she watches the blood bead around it while you wince.

“Don’t interrupt me again.” Her words are hard, and you nod quickly. She rewards you by pulling the blade away and soothing the cut with her tongue. A moan escapes her when the sweet taste of your blood hits her taste buds, and she laps up as much of it as she can before pulling away to answer your unspoken request.

Her eyes glint, and dread pools in your stomach.

“I killed them.” She says simply, her tone flat even as her words are slightly breathy. “I couldn’t risk letting them free. Not while I was at risk of losing you. I can never lose you.”

Wanda’s voice is slightly frantic by the end of her sentence, and you can tell that she’s losing control. Her fingers are digging into your skin, the blade of her knife pressing against your ribcage as one of her hands makes its way to your throat.

Squeezing tightly, she watches your eyes close at the feeling, your throat bobbing roughly beneath her hand. She feels practically drunk on power now that she finally has you, and no longer has to hide her obsession for you.

It was easy enough to hide cameras and small microphones in your apartment, seeing as she practically lived there with how often she came over. It was more difficult to follow you on your dates, trying to stay inconspicuous even as rage overtook her at the sight of you with another woman.

The best part, however, was after you said goodbye to your date. She loved the rush of power she received when the first thing you did was respond to her texts. She must have been on your mind during the date if you texted her as soon as it was over, right?

Wanda couldn’t really feel bad for the women she killed, they were just desperate for you. They wouldn’t have treated you right, they didn’t even know you. Besides, they all wanted to take you from her, and she couldn’t let that happen.

She would never let that happen.

The sound of a strangled moan brings Wanda back into the present moment, and her eyes focus on your face as you try to breathe under her hand. Her eyes widen, and she snatches her hand away from your throat as she cups your face while you suck in deep breaths.

“Are you alright, darling? I didn’t mean it, please forgive me. I would never hurt you, I just got upset at the thought of losing you. You know how much I love you, sweetheart. Please, say something.”

Wanda’s body weight is fully on top of you, her hands cold and smelling of iron as they caress your cheeks. It's gentle, and you can’t comprehend why she went from such a rough action to stroking your face with her fingertips. You want to scream, you want to push her off of you. You’ve never seen her like this, with wide eyes and short puffs of breath hitting your face. Her lips are inches from your own, her eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of pain.

You want to push her away, but there are tears sliding down her cheeks and landing on yours so instead you tilt your face and press your lips against hers.

The softness of her lips surprises you, and you find yourself not minding the slight taste of iron as she begins sliding them against yours. She’s a better kisser than anyone else you’ve kissed, and you find yourself leaning into her touch, instead of away from it.

This is your best friend, she wouldn’t hurt you. She loves you.

Sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip, and you can’t help the tiny moan that escapes you at the feeling. She smiles at the sound, and you vividly remember the time you’d told her that you were a masochist, drunk on cheap wine as the pair of you watched 50 Shades of Grey and laughed at nearly every scene.

You should’ve known she’d remember. Wanda seemed to remember everything about you, but you also remembered everything about her. Especially the sensitive spot just below her ear that caused her to whine, something you’d discovered during a drunk makeout session in a dirty club.

Arching your back even more and taking advantage of her slip in control when she groans at the feeling of your pelvic against hers, you attach your lips to that sensitive spot. Wanda practically writhes on top of you, a breathy moan leaving her lips as pleasure courses through you when her hands tighten around your breasts.

Breaking the kiss, Wanda tangles a hand in your hair and wrenches your head back, exposing your bruised neck once more. She nips lightly at the skin, pain blooming whenever her teeth so much as graze the swollen bruises, and you whimper.

“Wanda, please.”

The sound of your voice sends pleasure racing towards Wanda’s core. Grinding her hips down to relieve some of the aching pressure between her thighs, she pulls back and reaches for her knife. She’s never heard you beg before, and now that she has, she wants more.

“Please what, darling? Use your words.” Her eyes bore into yours, and you shiver when you see something hungry in them. She slowly drags the knife over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach, creating new, deeper cuts.

You can’t do much but moan and pant, the sensations quickly becoming overwhelming as pleasure shoots through you with each new cut. Wanda catches onto this, her smile widening until it's all teeth as she feels your hips attempt to roll from under her thighs.

“I won’t ask again.” Her voice turns cold in an instant, her smile slowly fading as she watches you struggle to form a sentence. The knife stops, right on the inside of your hip. The tip digs in, dragging smoothly along your skin as green eyes focus on it.

The only thing you can do is watch, your brain is much too fuzzy to form thoughts, much less any words.

A particularly harsh stroke brings a moment of clarity to you, and when Wanda finally pulls the blade away from your skin, you realize that she’d been leaving deliberate marks. She’d been carving something into your skin. You feel your heart quicken at the proud smile that appears on those sinfully plump lips, and you let out a whimper as her eyes snap to your face.

“Now you’re truly mine.” The words are whispered, but you hear them. Looking down, you see the letters WM engraved into your hip and look back at dilated green eyes in shock. Judging by the pain you’d felt and the amount of blood seeping out of her initials, the cuts were deep and long-lasting.

“Wanda…” You don’t know what to say, but as the knife still clutched in her hand starts making its way towards your throat, you say the words she wants to hear.

“I was always yours,” A wide smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face, and she throws the knife somewhere onto the bed as she cups your cheeks in her hands.

Green eyes search yours frantically, her breaths uneven and short as she studies your face. Her voice is breathless and demanding, her accent slipping in between each syllable as her fingers dig into your face. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Wanda.” Your eyes are earnest and the fear that had been building starts slowly slipping away as Wanda’s eyebrows raise softly. You can see the crazed look in her eyes fading slightly, and you catch a glimpse of your best friend underneath the possessive version of her. “I always have been, and you’ve always been mine.”

You’re surprised to find that you actually mean those words.

“Now please,” You begin, your voice slipping into a whine as you become acutely aware of her pelvis grinding against your center. “Fuck me, Wanda.”

Hands make their way from your flushed cheeks and down to your chest, fingers roughly tracing the raised, red lines across your skin. You’re far too gone to feel any shame about the pleasure coursing through you at the pain, your hips rolling against Wanda’s desperately as she bends down to kiss you again.

Her lips are rough against yours, her teeth biting and pulling at your swollen lips as you try and keep up. She dominates the kiss quickly, her fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as she slides her tongue against yours, a slightly iron taste hitting your tongue as she does so.

You arch into her, no longer afraid of her touch. This is your best friend, and you know she’ll take good care of you, she always has. And now, she always will.

Wanda’s lips leave your own, and you suck in deep breaths, feeling light-headed from lack of oxygen as she sits up fully and begins removing your pants. She’s impatient, practically ripping the fabric as she pulls them down your legs. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the growing wet spot on your underwear, and she rips them off in one smooth motion.

Before the fabric has even hit the floor, her tongue is hot and needy against your aching core. She didn’t even hesitate to put her hair up, instead flipping it casually over one shoulder as she moaned at the taste of you. She’d been dreaming about this moment for what felt like forever, and you’ve surpassed every expectation she had. Your hips jerk, the stimulation sending your senses into overdrive, and Wanda simply chuckles against you as she holds your thighs down.

You can feel yourself dripping against Wanda’s face as she builds you up, your orgasm creeping closer with each deliberate swipe of her tongue. She eats you out like she’s been waiting for years, which you suppose she actually has. Her tongue swirls around your clit, and you risk a glance down, wrists straining against your restraints as you do.

Wanda’s pupils are so blown that you can’t see any green left in her eyes, and they’re glinting up at you as she smiles slowly. She winks, and you nearly faint from the sight before she takes your clit between her lips and sucks harshly.

Loud moans reverberate around your bedroom as you throw your head back against the pillow. Your muscles strain beneath her fingers, your hips rutting pathetically against her face as you feel your orgasm closing in. You try to signal that you’re close, that she should stop, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you as the pleasure at your core builds painfully.

Wanda’s tongue swirls around your clit once, her teeth scrape it as she sucks, and she moans against your dripping center. That’s all it takes, and within a second you’re coming, your clit pulsating wildly against her tongue as your pussy clenches around nothing, your cum staining her chin as she licks you through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, Wanda. I…” You try to speak, your arms still thrashing slightly against the cuffs attached to your headboard. Her lips move over your still-overly sensitive clit, her tongue teasing the tip of it as it protrudes from its hood. “More, please. I want to feel you.”

Wanda detaches her lips, wiping your arousal off her chin with the back of her hand. You feel your clit throb at the sight, and you bite your lip as her eyes dart towards them. “Such a desperate slut, begging right after I’ve given you an orgasm?”

You open your mouth, whether to protest or beg again, you don’t know. Wanda doesn’t give you the chance, pressing her fingers into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. Your wide eyes look up at her as they water slightly, your lips closing around her fingers as you begin to suck.

“Because I’m feeling generous tonight,” Wanda begins, reaching for her knife. Your eyes widen slightly at the blade in her hand, and she feels a wave of arousal make its way to her core at the sight. “I’ll fuck you harder, but I’m the one who gets to choose how I do that, not you. Understand?”

Nodding quickly, your eyes dart between the knife and her face as she watches your reaction intently. Her head tilts, tracing the blade gently across your skin until the cold metal reaches your overheated mound, and you bite back a whimper.

The tip of the blade circles around your clit and you freeze as Wanda carefully maneuvers the sharp metal around your slick center until your muscles tremble from the effort of keeping still. Flipping the knife until the blade rests in her hand, she teases the entrance of your dripping pussy with the handle.

She winks, “Don’t worry, I cleaned it for you, sweetheart.”

You whimper, biting back a moan as she eases the knife into you. Fighting the urge to fuck yourself against the handle, you bite your lip harshly, tasting blood as she slowly pumps in and out of you.

Wanda is focused on the knife, watching as she thrusts it deep inside your leaking pussy and admiring the juices that coat it when she slowly pulls it out. She finds a rhythm, one that has your thighs quivering and muffled moans spilling from between your lips as the sloshing sounds of your pussy fill the room.

Looking up, Wanda’s eyes lock on your bottom lip. It’s trapped between your teeth, beads of crimson blood forming as you pant and moan. Your eyes are closed, and Wanda realizes that you’re too lost in the pleasure to realize that you’re hurting yourself.

She can’t have that, the only person allowed to hurt you is Wanda.

“Open your mouth, darling.” Her words are soft, even as she harshly removes the knife from you, leaving you aching and wanting more. You comply, seeing the warning in her eyes as she teases your lips with the arousal-stained handle.

Wanda’s lips part as her breaths become shallow at the sight of you sucking your own juices off her knife. Just when she thinks you couldn’t possibly make her like you more, you go and do something like this. She can’t take it anymore, and her own pussy is throbbing, begging her to release the aching pressure she’s had since the moment she stabbed that girl for the first time tonight.

“Good girl.” You smile around the handle at the words, and Wanda smirks. She should have known that you had a praise kink, especially with the way you blush whenever she compliments you.

“You like that?” She asks, moving the handle deeper into your eager mouth and pressing down on your tongue. “You like being called my good girl? What about this,” She pretends to think, moving the handle until you’re gagging around it.

“You’re my desperate little slut, aren’t you?” Wanda knows she’s found another one of your kinks when she feels your hips roll against her and watches the blush on your face deepen. “It’s pathetic how wet you are right now, and I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.”

You whine, breathing through your nose as she fucks your throat with your arousal-covered knife. Wanda continues, the crazed look appearing once more in her eyes. “Is this all for me? Or do you get wet every time some insignificant pretty girl touches you? I bet you do, so desperate for attention that you’ll beg anyone to fuck you. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore, honey. Now I’m here, and I’ll treat you right.”

Wanda pauses, removing the knife from your mouth and setting it on the dresser beside the bed, before she stands and removes her own clothing, talking the whole time. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even think about anyone else. Your pussy is mine, your pleasure is mine, your pain is mine, you’re mine.”

She pauses, completely nude as she moves to kneel over you. She feels her own arousal dripping down her inner thighs, and your eyes widen at the glistening heat between her legs. “All mine.”

Green eyes so dark they’re black voids of obsession roam your body, tracing paths of fire over your skin as they admire the angry cuts left behind by her sharp blade. It’s not enough, and Wanda knows that it will never be enough. She’ll always want more of you, and you’ll happily give it to her. Because you love her, and no one else.

“I do,” You say, your eyes bright as they lock with green ones. “I do love you, Wanda. I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Wanda realized that she must have said the last part of her obsessive thoughts out loud, but couldn’t help the sigh of relief at the confirmation of your feelings. She gets on the bed, positioning herself over you until her core is pressed against your own. Her eyes meet yours, and they lock intently on you as she begins moving her hips.

The friction is almost too much, pleasure building quickly as you feel Wanda’s clit bump your own. You admire her long dark hair, taking note of the slightly smudged eyeliner under her intense eyes and the dark lipstick coating her lips as small gasps tumble out of them. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight.

“Say it,” Wanda demands, her voice breathy. She moans, grinding herself harder against you as her orgasm races towards the surface. Her hands move, one gripping your breast tightly as the other moves to wrap around your throat.

You try to hold your own orgasm back, wanting to please Wanda. Your words are strained, your tone desperate as you beg, “Say, what? Tell me and I’ll say it. Please?”

Wanda could cum just from those words, but she doesn’t. As much as she loves how obedient you’re being, she needs one more thing. “You're mine.” She manages to get out, her orgasm about three seconds away.

Realization dawns in your eyes, and you smile up at her. It's all teeth and blood from the cut on your lip, and Wanda’s orgasm crashes over her at the sight. Your words are strong, soothing, and low as your own orgasm washes over you. “I’m yours, all yours.”

You feel a tendril of possessiveness worm its way through you at the sight of Wanda coming undone on top of you. It wraps around your heart and squeezes, and you think you understand how she’s been feeling this whole time. You never want to let her go, to let her be loved by anyone other than you.

Wanda leans down, her breath hot against your lips as she kisses you. You kiss back with the same ferocity, biting down on her lips and claiming her as your own. She moans, her hips stuttering against you, and you smile.

“Only yours.”

—

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#reblog #dark!wanda maximoff #is just so fucking hot #she can do WHATEVER #she wants to me

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