Mommy Wanda with a bratty needy whore at the mall..?
YEAH :3
brat tamer mommy!wanda . . .
minors dni nsfw!
wanda bending down to reach your level, eyes boring into your own and eyebrows furrowed in frustration after youâd begged her to go home for the hundredth time. she didnât like to be rough with her girl in public, but youâd really tested her patience, and she was just about at the end of her tether.
taking your jaw between her fingers and squeezing your cheeks together, she loudly lectured you about being a âbad girlâ, no matter the publicity of the store you were in, or despite who could hear, wanda didnât care. sheâd lectured you in public on a few occasions, and each time blossomed a feeling of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach.
âbut mommyy⊠just wanna go home!â youâd whine, a lot quieter than wanda, your eyes darting around to see if anybody nearby noticed what was happening. you squirmed in an attempt to free yourself from her grasp, and wanda sighed out, frustrated that you wouldnât just listen.
she ground her teeth together and began to stand up. âmommy isnât done yet. stop being a brat, bunny. i know you can be my good girl.â she sparingly dismissed your behavior with a soft kiss on your forehead, but she didnât let go of your cheeks yet as she ran her thumb along your lips.
despite the tingly feeling the action sent to your stomach, her words still sent a small wave of annoyance through your own body. mainly due to the harsh label mommy gave you, the word bringing a sharp pang of distaste to your throat, because you werenât a brat, you were mommyâs good girl, you really were!
so you frowned, and although it wasnât like wanda could take you seriously with your cheeks squished together to form a pout, nor at the way you had to look up at her through your eyelashes to meet her eyes, otherwise youâd be looking at the fabric of her shirt, a frown of wandaâs own appeared on her face at your expression, especially when she was willing to let you off, even when you were being bad. she couldnât quite believe to the extent that you were persisting.
âdonât frown at me. good girls donât frown.â
âor what?â you blurted, regretting your words as soon as they left your mouth.
wandaâs expression of concern disappeared and you were quickly met with a cold gaze and a clenched jaw as she picked up her shopping bags and took you by the hand and begun to drag you out of the mall. your heart immediately sunk with immense guilt, your eyes glued to her face in an attempt to read it as your legs tried to keep up with the pace she had set. wanda didnât say a word, not even on your car journey home, that felt one-hundred times longer than it usually did.
in a way, she was giving you exactly what you wanted; though now, you couldnât bring yourself to seek pride, neither succession. instead your heart thrummed in your chest with both shame and fear, knowing that thereâd be a reason wanda had decided to take you home. you scolded yourself deeply for misbehaving, wishing youâd just kept your mouth shut and stayed with mama at the mall.
she placed her bags (full of new clothes and accessories for you that she liked look of, perfect to doll you up with) on the kitchen counter before practically dragging you up the stairs and into your room. she instructed that you sit on the bed with your hands flat on your lap like a good girl, and you obeyed, offering her a small, pathetic âmâ sorry,â that merely went unnoticed and hung your head in shame. wanda then walked over to the closet and pulled out a small, pink box from beneath it.
the scraping sound it made against the floor caused you to raise your head in curiosity, and once your eyes locked onto the object, a choked whimper left your throat. you didnât want to speak, afraid it would only make matters worse, so you swallowed down your protests and eyed the box with wide eyes.
the recollections that flooded back to you quickly spiked you with nerves , remembering all of the times wanda would use the items in said box to play with you; blowing off some steam by shoving her biggest, pretty pink dildo inside of your hole and making you ride it until you sobbed despite the painful stretch.
she picked out a small paddle and sat on the bed beside you, before manipulating your body so that your stomach rested on her lap, and your face was buried in the soft pillows.
when wanda finally spoke, your ears perked up and your head rose from the fabric to hear her better, not wanting to anger her further by asking her to repeat herself.
âyou know mommy doesnât like to punish you, sweet girl, but you left me no choice...â wanda sighed. âyouâll count your spanks for all of the bad girl things you did today,â she rubbed the skin of your ass soothingly, and added, âfor all of the times you upset mommy.â her voice was condescending and sweet and falsely pitying and it made your head swim and your heart ache.
you squirmed at her words as they rapidly sent an immense wave of regret over you. you didnât mean to upset mommy, you just wanted to go home and be with her all by yourself, just the two of you together, with no icky people around or stores to go to or things to do. tears welled up in your eyes and you looked over your shoulder at her, apologizing again with a pout. her lips twitched and her eyes were darker than usual, and she only looked to you for a second before refocusing her attention to the smooth of your ass, humming down at her lap.
âmommy knows you were just so needy, sweepea.â she suddenly said, as if reading your mind. âbut that doesnât excuse your misbehavior. mommy told you many times that she wasnât done, and you still persisted.â
you winced, âno! mama-â
â- and now youâll take your punishment, bunny.â she picked up the paddle that was resting on her bed beside her thigh and gripped it firmly in her hand. ânow be a good girl and count for mommy.â
Tags Minors DNI: being stalked, paranoia, therapy, mentions of sex
Masterlist
Fall 2018
It was the same thing every day.
You wake up, make breakfast, and go for a run. You go to work, a normal 9-5 job downtown. After work, you would wind down by making dinner and sometimes taking a bath with a glass of wine. You go to bed around the same time every night, letting the sounds of I Love Lucy lull you to sleep.
Your routine was all but normal, though. You had a shadow.
Your daily jog was filled with turning your head, constantly aware of a presence behind you, one that you could never see. You thought it was over until one night when you were making dinner, you happened to look out the window and saw a person standing across the street. The glass of wine you were holding dropped from your hand onto the floor beneath your feet. You step back onto the glass and wince, tearing your eyes from the shapeless figure.
When you look up again, they've disappeared.
This happened for weeks until you finally gave in and told your friend one night over a bottle of wine.
"Look, this is them. They're back," you say, handing the phone to Natasha. She raises an eyebrow and looks at the blurry picture on the screen. Practically a black dot next to the bus stop a few houses down from yours.
"But why would they wait so long? It's been over a year, and.." she squints, staring at the picture. "That kind of just looks like a blob.." the woman says and sips her wine, a concerned look on her face at your frantic state.
"It's not. It's them! I-I swear I'm being followed, being watched... every where I go, it's like, I can feel them. The police won't do anything about it." You move your shaking hand away from her to gulp down the rest of your wine.
"Look, Y/N.." Natasha sighs and sets down her glass, turning her body to face yours. "I know you've been through a lot, everything that.. happened last summer. I think - maybe you should.. get some help." She tries to soften the blow of calling you crazy by resting a hand on your thigh. You only look to her with betrayed eyes.
"I'm not crazy," you speak calmly, your tone stern, but the crack in your voice only solidifies Natashas' point.
"I don't think you are, Y/N. Here.." She grabs her purse, pulling out a business card from it casually, as if she just happened to have it. You knew her better than that. "This is my friend. She's an amazing psychiatrist. Just talk to her, give it a chance."
You snatch the card away from her hands, not making eye contact with her. Natasha sighs again and stands, watching your leg bounce harder. She leans down to kiss your forehead.
"I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.." She trails off, unsure if you'd even reply.
"Love you." You mumble, pouring yourself another glass.
After she leaves, you stare at the business card in your hand, eyes settled on the name in bold lettering. You crumple the card, ball it up in your hand, and throw it across the room. It bounces off the wall with a small 'thunk'. Then you're left sitting, recalling the events of last summer.
***
Summer 2017
It was an exceptionally hot night. The air conditioner had been broke all day, leaving you sweating and fanning yourself with a magazine. Also leaving you with no choice but to leave the windows open, letting a cooler breeze flow through your quiet house.
You shot a quick text to Natasha- See you tomorrow, meet at the coffee shop near yours.
With a sigh, you rest your head on the back of the couch, listening to the voices on the TV. You get a strange feeling suddenly, your whole body covered in goosebumps, the small hairs on your arms standing straight up. You slowly open your eyes, staring straight ahead at the characters running around the screen.
"Get a grip, Y/N.." You mumble to yourself, patting your cheeks as if to wake yourself up. Maybe you just needed some sleep. Your anxiety seemed to be kicking up again. Your hands reach for the remote on the table in front of you, and you press the power button, turning the TV off.
It's then you see, in the black screen, reflecting an image not only of you but a person standing directly behind you.
***
Current Fall 2018
No, I'm NOT doing this right now.
You think to yourself, swallowing down your third glass of wine for the night. Instead, you get up to double -no, triple- check all of the locks in your house. The windows to the backyard, locked. The sliding glass backdoor, locked. The windows to the front of the house, locked. The front door, locked. The side door leading to the garage, locked. Windows in any bedrooms, locked. Your bedroom door and window, locked.
It was exhausting, but it was a routine you had been following for the past year. It kept you safe. You turn on I Love Lucy, drifting off into another nightmare with your mysterious shadow.
The morning after, you awake to your alarm and slap your hand on your loud phone to slide it off. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The morning sun shines brightly in the room, the light warm on your skin.
I am NOT crazy...
You repeat to yourself over and over, a mantra easily spoken and believed in your mind. Breakfast was made and eaten, running shoes tied to your feet, laces double knotted, ID and cash in case of emergencies, and headphones settle snug in your ears. The first mile was fine, humming along to your music, and enjoying the cold fall. It was when you were heading back towards your house that you began to have that unsettling feeling.
Your panicked eyes look around as you jog, your head constantly turning from side to side as you look for your shadow. You find yourself reaching into your pocket, letting your hand grab onto the pepper spray you had brought with you. Only a little ways to go. It's fine.
Your pace sped up, but your shadow was creeping up closer to you. Your heart was racing. Sweat was dripping down your forehead. With your thumb gripping the spray, you suddenly turn around, spraying the shadow behind you.
"Ahhh! What the fuck!" A man screams, falling to his knees in front of you. Your heart was beating out of your chest at the sight of him, rubbing his eyes and screaming in pain. But on the sidewalk in front of him you see your emergency clip that held your cash and ID.
"Jason! Oh my god, what did you do to him?" A woman comes running up to his side, sliding her arm around him. "Are you crazy? You dropped this. He was trying to give it back to you!" She screams at you, throwing the clip in your direction. Dollar bills fly to the ground, and you back up.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know, I thought he was - I didn't know.." Your voice trails off as you shake your head, hands shaking. "I didn't know.." You repeat it 4 times.
"Y/N, you're lucky he didn't press charges, I can't believe you actually pepper sprayed him.." Natashas voice sounded from the phone in your hand as you recall the events from the morning.
"I know, I can't believe I did either. I feel so fucking bad about it.." you hold your head in your hand, guilt filling your gut.
"It happened. There's nothing you can do about it now. He'll be fine.. people get pepper sprayed all the time," she tries to joke, attempting to lighten the mood.
You sit up and sigh into the phone, looking around the room. The TV playing, the dusty art supplies sitting on a desk in the corner. Your eyes find and focus on the crumpled business card on the floor by the wall. As you stand, your feet carry you over, picking it up.
"I'll talk to you later, Nat," you say, letting her say goodbye before you hang up. Your hands straighten out the card, and you once again read the name in bold lettering.
The clock on the wall read 5:28 as you sat, one day after work, on a chair in the hallway near the front door. You look around the hallway that leads to a massive house. It seemed the front was used for her practice, a room on either side of the hallway. One you assumed an office, the other a room to meet with patients. The clock ticked to 5:29, and your leg began to bounce.
The door on the wall across from you opens, revealing a brown headed woman with a warm smile on her face. She was taller, a creme colored blouse and brown pants settled on her legs. Her familiar green eyes find yours, and you both let out a small, awkward chuckle.
"Y/N.." Wanda says and holds out her hand to you, watching as you stand in front of her.
Your hand reaches for hers, "Wanda.." Her hand is warm and soft in yours. You know you linger too long in her grip. She leads you into room number two, a medium-sized room with one big, comfortable looking chair and an even more comfortable looking couch. Behind her comfy chair was an extravagant looking fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, and as you walked inside, your fingers trail the spines of the books that sat on them. It felt comfortable and safe. The sun was beginning to set, and an orange glow filled the room. Wanda sits in a chair, a notepad, and pen in her lap. You follow suit, sitting across from her on the couch.
"So, are you sure you want to do this? I'd be more than happy to recommend you to some other, highly recommended, co-workers of mine?" Wanda says with a smile, and you can't help but blush. She just had that effect on you.
"As long as you're okay with it, I am. I trust you, and right now, I really need that.." You mumble the last part, sitting back into the couch. Wanda nods, understanding of you.
One of the last times you saw Wanda she was in your bed, giving you what still stands today, the best orgasms of your life. Natasha had thrown a Christmas party where you met. You and Wanda came alone. You both had a lot to drink, and one thing led to another. You spent the night talking and laughing, getting to know each other as you came on her fingers. After that, you saw her from time to time, over a couple of months. She let you eat her out on your couch and fucked you against the counter in your kitchen. It was the best sex you'll probably ever have. You felt more alive with her than you had in years.
But then you had to leave town for work, and by the time you came back, the two of you had lost touch. Then, a few months after, during the summer, when your shadow appeared, you cut practically everyone out of your life.
"Well then, let's get started," Wanda interrupts your train of thoughts with a click of her pen, crossing her legs. "I reviewed the file you sent over from your stay at the Bay Point Medical Center. Do you want to talk about that?" She asks, her voice as smooth as honey.
You let out a shaky sigh, playing with the zipper of the bag you held in your lap. "I've always been.. anxious, since I was a kid. Always had these uh, routines. Tie my shoes until they felt right, flick the lights 4 times before bed."
"Were you ever diagnosed or tested as a kid?"
"No, my mom didn't believe in that sort of thing."
"So you were first diagnosed with OCD and Bipolar Disorder at Bay Point." Wanda makes a note. You tap your leg 4 times.
"Yes."
"So what led you to that moment, to that night?" Her voice is so inviting. You would tell her just about anything at this point.
"I'm sure it says in the file.." You clear your throat, suddenly being unable to look her in the eyes.
"There is a version, but I'd like to hear yours." Her eyebrows raise, pen hovering over the paper of the pad.
"It was a few days after I saw my shadow," you start, Wanda has a curious look on her face.
A pause.
"Your shadow?" She asks, you nod.
"The stalker, person watching me." You reply, she nods for you to continue. "I hadn't slept in days. The police didn't believe me. There was no evidence, they said, that anyone besides me had been in the house that night. So I went to the docks, and I-I bought a gun from some junkie. I'm not proud of what I did," you say, meeting her comforting gaze.
"I'm sure. You hadn't slept in days. You were delusional - sleep deprived. No medication, no diagnosis. Under extreme stress. Given the circumstances, I'm glad no one was hurt." Wanda concurs.
"Well, maybe not physically. But when you wave a gun around at 3 in the morning down the street, maybe a little psychological damage to the family that found me," you groan and put your head in your hands.
"The report said you had left a note at your house. What did it say?" Wanda asks, and you think back to when you scribbled on a piece of paper, what you thought would be, your last words. You're quiet for a moment. Wanda can tell you won't answer that question just yet.
"How about, who did you leave it for?" She asks.
"For my shadow."
The rest of the session you had spilled about your feelings that night and talked about you OCD and Bipolar disorder. You told her about your stay at the mental hospital, and told her about your routines. You spoke to her of almost everything.
"I think this session was really productive, Y/N. You've been very open with me, and I appreciate that." Wanda stood at the front door, smiling down to you. It was dark now, the sun at set completely. "I'll see you at the same time, Thursday?"
You nod and smile back at her. "I'll see you then." You walk to your car, feeling lighter. But you also can't ignore the hair on the back of your neck rising as you drive away.
***
Summer 2017
You scream loudly as you turn to see a figure behind you. A shadow, dressed in all black. A white faceless mask covered their true face. They stand still as you back away, slowly tilting their head to the side.
dailybridgerton
stormborns
discoholicmusic
andulkaphoto
dededos
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
janainaart
jbbartram-illu
