Hi my darlings! My name is Marielle, and welcome to my little world of stories. Anyone who knows me as a writer knows. I hate writing background. I hate writing stories backgrounds and any of those beginning things. I like writing the established, fun things with occasional flash backs. So I thought I’d just start a one shot collection of one shots into Wanda x fem reader.
PAIRING: Wanda Matimoff x Fem Reader
WARNINGS: NSFW content, established relationship, fem reader, mental health related issues, kinks to be added as one shots and stories are created.
A/N: A short little one shot for my story, that I will eventually write!
“Ten! Mommy, please, fuck I-“ Your voice trembles as the heart shaped paddle strikes against your tender, sore flushed skin. She sits, settled on your thighs, as you lay on your stomach, trapped beneath her. Wrists handcuffed together behind your back, the cool metal a contrast to your burning skin. Your knuckles whitening from the squeezing at every impact of her paddle against your skin. She has been going at you for nearly an hour, with no relief to the aching burn between your thighs, and Wanda was not interested in stopping anytime soon. “Colour, darling?” Her voice, lulling you still in a sweet, headspace where only she was in control. “Green, mommy, fuck, I. Please!” You wraith beneath her, the vibrator inside you blooming to life as she finishes the check in with you. The hand that had laid against your spanked skin lifted, a signal to you that another strike awaits your tender ass, and you hear Wanda hum. Bringing another forceful spank down, the paddle bites into your skin, and your hips attempt to buck, stuck under Mommys body. “E-Eleven, Ow, mommy..” Your voice cracks, a stammer as the vibrator climbed another vibration level inside you, tempting you further. The moans and gasps slipping through slightly swelled pink lips, lipgloss smudged and sticky on your lips, an indicator, you’re close, and she speaks. “Don’t you dare cum.” Her voice is firm, Mommy is not letting you go that easily, she isn’t finished playing with her toy..
you shouldn't have told me you sleep like a baby darling. or…i take it as an invitation. it wouldn't be my fault if you wake up with a confusing slickness and a tongue working on your clit.
Wanda Maximoff is the kind of woman to whisper sweet praises into your ear as her strap pounds into you, making your head fuzzy. She wants you to cum for her as many times as she can physically pull out of your writhing body. Making sure you turn into a cute mess underneath her and forget your one name while always begging for more, completely dependant on your mommy.
The Scarlet Witch is the kind of woman to tell you how pathetic you are, degrading you whilst her strap pounds into you from behind as her magic ties you down, to make sure you cannot do anything about this predicament. Denying you orgasm after orgasm for hours on end would be her favourite part of this little game, watching you believe she will finally let you cum and then suddenly stopping to make you cry even harder. She would make sure you cry and beg for her to stop, completely dependant on your mistress.
Okay no but y’all don’t even understand my vision for the unethical scientist. She’s got all the knowledge of various psychological theories and skills and she’s testing them on you in the worst ways:
Behaviorism - you already know about her notebook. That notebook. The one where you see it and can’t help but squeeze your thighs together for how wet you start getting. She doesn’t even have to open the notebook for you to open your legs for her. She doesn’t have to say a word for you to crawl onto the bed on all fours and wait like the perfect test subject you are.
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Humanism- warm, empathetic understanding. Oh, she understands you, with that soft but commanding voice that drips of honey before she bites your thighs. “Oh, darling, you’re so tired of always being in control, aren’t you? My poor thing, you want to be taken care of, don’t you?” She’s being so gentle with her words while doing absolutely filthy things to you. Pounding into you from behind, pushing your face into the mattress, cooing in your ear, “I’m hearing that you want me to fuck you harder, is that correct?” She pulls you up, a hand toying with a nipple as the other snakes between your legs, still thrusting, breathing in your ear, “How does this make you feel?”
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Biological - you’re on your knees and your hands are tied behind your back, completely naked as you wait for her to reappear in your line of sight. When she does, she’s holding two things: a glass of ice in one hand, a candle in the other. “We’re going to observe how your body reacts to various sensations, pretty girl.” Later, she’s sitting on your face, leaning back to hold a vibrator between your legs as you stare up at her breasts moving with each rock of her hips, murmuring something about checking your heart rate during various activities. You can barely hear her as you lap at her greedily, racing your own orgasm in effort to finally make her fall apart too.
Let Mommy Think for You | Elizabeth Olsen x Reader
Smut: talking through it, cunnilingus, fingering, mommy kink, praise-degradation kink
Elizabeth hovers above you on the soft bed, her brunette hair cascading like a gentle curtain around your faces as she leans in. Her lips meet yours in a deep, lingering kiss, warm and unhurried, her tongue slipping past your parted lips to explore your mouth with tender insistence.
One hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other roams your body, tracing the curve of your waist, sliding up to cup your breast through your shirt, squeezing softly as she presses her body against yours.
You melt into the kiss, your hands clutching at her shoulders, pulling her closer. She breaks away just enough to murmur against your lips, "That's it, my sweet little girl, open up for me like the slut you are."
Her words wrap around you like velvet, praising your eagerness even as they tease your desperation, sending a shiver down your spine.
Her hand drifts lower, slipping under the hem of your shirt to caress the bare skin of your stomach, then higher to push the fabric up and expose your chest. She palms your breast directly now, thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under her touch.
The kiss deepens again, her breath mingling with yours in soft, intimate sighs. "You're doing so well, letting Mommy feel every inch of you," she whispers, her voice a soothing guide through the building heat.
Soon, her exploring hand ventures further south, tugging at the waistband of your pants. With gentle tugs, she works them down your hips, along with your underwear, stripping you bare from the waist down while her mouth never strays far from yours. The cool air of the room kisses your exposed skin, but her warmth quickly follows as her fingers trail along your inner thigh, inching toward your core.
Elizabeth's fingertips brush against your pussy, and she hums approvingly into the kiss, feeling the slick wetness gathered there. She pulls back slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours with a mix of adoration and hunger.
"God, you're soaking for me already, aren't you? Such a perfect, desperate mess just for Mommy." She strokes you lightly at first, parting your folds to feel how drenched you are, her touch feather-soft yet deliberate, circling your entrance without rushing.
You gasp, arching up toward her hand. "Mommy," you breathe out, the word slipping from your lips like a plea.
She smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before capturing your lips again briefly. "Shh, I've got you, baby. Just relax and let me take care of my greedy little girl."
Her fingers continue to tease, spreading your wetness around your clit with slow, intimate circles that make your hips buck eagerly. She's patient, talking you through every sensation, her voice low and reassuring. "Feel that? That's how much you want this, how your body's begging for me. You're so good for me, being this wet, this ready—my darling angel."
With a soft nod from you, she slides one finger inside, then two, curling them just right as she begins to fuck you slowly. Her thumb rests against your clit, rubbing in tandem with the gentle thrusts of her fingers. The rhythm is unhurried, each push and pull drawing out your pleasure in waves, her body still draped over yours protectively.
he kisses along your jaw, your neck, whispering praises laced with that edge of degradation that makes your pulse race. "That's my sweet slut, taking my fingers so deep. You're incredible, darling, clenching around me like you can't get enough—such a needy whore for Mommy's touch.'
You whimper, your hands gripping the sheets as she builds the pace just enough to keep it intimate, her free hand stroking your hair, grounding you in the tenderness of it all.
"Breathe with me, love. Let it build nice and slow. You're safe here, doing so well for mommy." Her fingers plunge deeper, scissoring slightly to stretch you, hitting that spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids, all while her words weave a spell of affirmation and desire.
Elizabeth's fingers move with a steady, loving rhythm inside you, curling and thrusting in a way that sends ripples of pleasure through your core. Her thumb presses firmer against your clit, circling with just the right pressure to heighten every sensation.
She watches your face intently, her brunette locks falling forward as she leans in close, her breath warm on your skin. "Look at you, my precious girl, taking it all so beautifully. You're such a perfect slut for me, aren't you? Clenching like that."
You nod, your voice a soft whine. "Yes, Mommy... please..."
She coos softly, her free hand trailing up to wipe a bead of sweat from your brow. 'That's right, let go. I've got you, my sweet, filthy thing. Feel how your pussy grips my fingers, hm? That's how much you need this, baby, how you're mine to unravel."
Her pace quickens just a touch, fingers plunging deeper, scissoring to stretch you wider, all while her words guide you higher. The intimacy of her gaze, the way her body shields yours, makes the build-up feel like a shared secret, tender and consuming.
Your hips rise to meet her hand, breaths coming in short gasps as the tension coils tighter. "Mommy, I'm... I'm close," you murmur, fingers digging into her arms.
"Good girl, my baby. Cum for me now—show Mommy how desperately you fall apart her." Her voice is a gentle command, laced with that intoxicating mix of adoration and edge, and it tips you over.
Your body tenses, then shudders as the orgasm crashes through you, waves of heat pulsing around her fingers. She doesn't stop, working you through it with slow, soothing strokes, drawing out every tremor until you're limp and panting beneath her.
Elizabeth withdraws her fingers gently, bringing them to her lips to taste you with a satisfied hum. "Mmm, that's my beautiful girl." She kisses you deeply, letting you share the flavor on her tongue, her hands roaming your sides in reassuring caresses.
Without breaking contact, she begins to trail kisses downward, soft and deliberate, starting from your lips, then your chin, your throat. Her mouth lingers on your collarbone, sucking lightly to leave faint marks of affection.
"Relax, baby. Mommy's going to make you feel even better," she whispers against your skin, her hands pushing your shirt up and over your head, fully stripping you now. Her lips follow the path her hands take, kissing across your chest, taking one nipple into her mouth to swirl her tongue around it, then the other, nipping just enough to make you arch.
She moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your ribs, your stomach, her tongue dipping into your navel briefly. Your skin tingles under her attention, every touch reverent yet hungry.
"You're perfect like this, laid out for me—my gorgeous girl, all flushed and ready for mommy." Her words vibrate against your hip as she nuzzles there, hands spreading your thighs wider, exposing you completely.
Elizabeth settles between your legs, her breath ghosting over your still-sensitive pussy. She looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Tell Mommy you want her mouth on you."
"Oh, please, Mommy... I need it," you breathe, your hands fisting the sheets in anticipation.
She smiles, rewarding you with a slow lick from your entrance to your clit, savoring your taste. "Such a good, needy girl. My sweet girl deserves this."
Her tongue delves in, flat and broad at first, lapping up the remnants of your release before focusing on your clit with precise flicks. One hand holds your thigh steady, the other slips two fingers back inside you, curling to hit that spot again as her mouth works relentlessly.
The dual sensation builds quickly, your body still humming from before. She hums against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. "Does this feel good for you, my darling love? Your pussy's weeping for me already. You're doing amazing, taking my tongue like the perfect little fucktoy you are for mommy." Her praise stings sweetly, urging you on as she sucks your clit gently, then harder, fingers thrusting in time.
You cry out, hips grinding against her face. "Mommy! Oh god..."
"Yes, just like that. Cum on my tongue, my girl—let me taste you again." The orgasm hits fast and fierce, your walls fluttering around her fingers as pleasure explodes, leaving you shaking. She laps it all up, not letting up, easing you through the aftershocks before ramping up again.
Elizabeth shifts, her tongue plunging deeper now, fucking into you with wet, intimate strokes while her thumb rubs your clit. "One more for mommy, baby. You can take it—my filthy girl, cumming again so soon, hm?" Her free hand reaches up to pinch your nipple, adding another layer of sensation. The build is relentless, her mouth tireless, and soon you're teetering on the edge once more.
"Mommy, I can't... it's too much," you gasp, but your body betrays you, chasing the high.
"You can, and you will. Be my good girl, my perfect girl—cum hard for Mommy." Her words push you over, the third climax of the night ripping through you, stronger than the first, your thighs clamping around her head as you sob her name. She rides it out, tongue soothing until you're spent, then gentles her touches to a soft kissing of your inner thighs.
As the waves finally subside, Elizabeth lifts her head, her lips glistening as she crawls back up your body with a tender smile. She brushes damp strands of hair from your face, her touch feather-light now, grounding you. "Hey, my love... there you are. Come back to me, sweet girl. You're safe, you're here with me." Her voice is soft, a soothing murmur as she cups your cheek, thumb stroking gently.
"Breathe with me— in and out, just like that. You've been so brave, so incredible. Mommy's so proud of her little one." She presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, then your eyelids, coaxing you down from the haze with words like a lifeline. "Feel my arms around you? I'm here, baby. You're held, you're cherished—my perfect, precious girl."
Once your breaths even out and your eyes focus on hers, she shifts to gather you close, pulling a soft blanket over both of you. Elizabeth tucks you against her chest, her heartbeat a steady rhythm under your ear as she runs her fingers through your hair in slow, comforting strokes.
"You did so well, baby. How are you feeling? Tell Mommy everything." She listens intently if you speak, or simply holds you if words don't come, her other hand tracing lazy circles on your back.
She reaches for a nearby glass of water, helping you sip it slowly, then wipes your face with a cool cloth from the nightstand, cleaning away the sweat and tears of release with utmost care. "There we go, all fresh. You're glowing, you know? Like my own little star." Kisses pepper your temple, your shoulder, light and affectionate, as she adjusts the pillows behind you both for maximum comfort.
Elizabeth hums a quiet tune, something familiar and calming, while she massages your shoulders, working out any lingering tension. "Rest now, darling. We've got all the time in the world. You're mine to care for, always." Her embrace is warm, enveloping, a promise of safety as she whispers endearments, letting the quiet intimacy wrap around you like a cocoon, easing you into a peaceful afterglow.
A/N: As requested, a wax scene. I didn’t spend much time on this, nor did I add all the details I wanted to but I was just so into writing this that I couldn’t help posted it now. Hope you enjoy! Xx
Still.
“I told you… be still.” My voice drops a tone lower, a quiet command edged with the excitement we both feel brewing in our cores as I pull the final knot tight. Your wrists and ankles are secured to the bedframe, the beauty of the ropes, the soft, smooth silky rope biting just so gently against your skin, the perfect amount of pressure to its securement, reminding you who you belong to. I spent time, tying each rope, each decorative rose, securing your ties. Keeping you secure, in place for me. A perfect display of obedience you’re still trying so hard to hold onto, the anticipation aching within you.
The black sheets beneath you are smooth and cool, a sinful contrast to the heat gathering under your skin, under my own skin. Goosebumps rise along your arms as the chill of the room settles over you, the air thick and charged with lust. I hum, the weight of everything I plan to do to you weighting on my mind, flashes of the scene coming. A soft whimper escapes your lips as my hands leave your body, the hands that had been wandering your body after finishing the final knot. Your body jolting, the ropes holding you in place, as I watch you swallow hard, wide, blown out eyes staring into mine, watching my every move.
On the nightstand, a candle flickers, tiny warm flame dancing in anticipation of their usage. The strawberry-scented wax massage candle, has melted into a pool of warm, fragrant oil that I intend to use. I reach for it, fingers brushing the warm metal tin as I take the candle in my hands. I circle the bed, each step deliberate and slow, my eyes never leave you, your stretched limbs, your trembling thighs, the rise and fall of your chest as you try to stay still for Mommy.
I murmur a low response as I climb onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. My knees slide along the sheets until I’m straddling your thighs, the warmth of your flushed skin radiating up into me as I focus on your body.
“Good..” I breathe in a soft breath, eyes trailing your body, admiring, watching. Leaning in just enough for my hair to tickle your face, my lips ghost your ear as I let the praise spill out in an intimate whisper. “Good girl.” My lips kiss, delicately, pressing against your warm skin, just behind your ear, letting my teeth sink into the skin of your neck for a momentarily slip of composure.
I settle my hips against you, deliberately dragging the solid length of my strap along the heat between your thighs. Even through my loose black sweatpants, the shape is unmistakable. Hard, positioned perfectly to make your breath catch as I push it between your spread thighs. I push forward just a little, enough to make the pressure impossible to ignore, enough to make you strain against the ropes.
“Mommy..” Your breathless whisper says. The friction of the cruel tease I give, a promise for the future of our scene, and your hips jolt up. The curl of the corner of my lips in a smirk, rolling my hips once more, slower this time, my strap firm against your centre, as I suckle on your neck.
“Already trembling..” My voice murmurs, watching your reaction as I sit up. “And I’ve barely touched you.” I tease, my voice slick with the hunger for you, but my control is evident. My eyes now flash to the still lit candle that had been placed on the nightstand. I reach for it, settling against your thighs as I blow the candle out, a soft puff of air removing the flame. My hips grind in a lazy circle, the rope creaking as you react, the need for me written in every whimper, tremor and twitch. A satisfied hum falls from my lips, and I speak.
“What’s your safe words?” I mutter as my eyes flash back towards yours, my tone filled with firmness, grounding you to this moment with me. Your eyes lift from the candle to mine, wide, blown and full of anticipation. The need remains, layered with trust as you murmur your response confidently.
“Mommy’s got you. Just feel. Focus on the sensations. Relax into my touch darling..” My voice flows with control, low and steady, seeing your breath slow at my words and a soft nod of your head. I take a slow breath before I tilt the candle.
The first drop touches the skin of your stomach, a tiny bead of heat slashes across your skin, and you gasp. A quiet and sharp tone, and I hear a whimper fall from spread pink lips. The ropes pull, your muscles flex momentarily before relaxing once more.
Another drop. Then another. Controlled. Placed with intention. Like kisses of fire, and pleasure that follows. Just enough heat to make your back ache off the bed and your wrists tug at their restraints. My free hand glides up your side, reminder of my presence, grounding you as I coo, “Focus,” once more. “Let it happen. Let each sensation ripple through you..” My voice is soft, intentional as I tilt the candle once more, lower, letting the droplets grace your pelvis, grasping your hip in my hand.
The red wax is already beginning to harden on your skin, cooling into glossy shapes that frame every soft rise and curve of your stomach. My fingers release your hip to skim my fingers along one of the dried edges, just lightly enough to make your breath hitch, before I tilt the candles again.
The weight of me setting on your thighs remains as I tilt the candle once more. A slow, steady drip of heat falls from your pelvis, a delicious sting the melts into warmth as you twitch, and I move. The rope catches the movements you make, moving the candle up. The drips of the red candle drop on your chest, and I hear you gasp.
“That’s it baby.” I whisper.
The path of sensation across your breasts makes you whimper in pleasure, the momentary heat followed by cascading warmth, bright and sinful as each drop makes you jolt. The thin stream of warmth, and your reaction, oh it spurs me. You reach so beautifully.
“You’re doing so well for me..” I mutter as the wax drops soft drops onto your nipples. The beauty of your body steals my breath for a moment, every curve, every quiver, every line transformed beneath the glow of cooling red wax against your skin. You lie there, bound and obedient, your skin a blank canvas slowly becoming something crafted, claimed. My art.
I lift the candle again, holding it just high enough that each drop falls with intention and leaves a searing sensation behind. The wax beads, before slating against your skin in a gentle pattern. More drops. And more. Each one placed where I want , along the dip of your waist, your ribs, the edges of your hips. Your stomach rises with each inhale.
“You’re stunning. You were made for this..” I murmur, voice thick with possession. The red wax continues to hardens into patterns across your skin, a map only I understand. I brush my fingers along hardened wax as the candle is set aside, and I hum.
WARNINGS: NSFW content, spanking, mentions of paddles and belts, mean mommy Wanda, swearing.
A/N: First installment. Short. But honestly most won’t be super long. Enjoy! Xx (;
Draped over her knee, bottom lip trembling, tears threatening to spill as the heat radiates from your punished skin. Your knees kept flexing on instinct, tiny, desperate jerks that lifted your ankles up towards her spanking hand despite your best attempts to keep still, like she asked of you. The movement only made the sting sharper, made your thighs tense, made your breath hitch.
Your panties had been kicking away in one swift flick, white lace dropping to the carpet below. Running your mouth with her had started as teasing, playful, a game you thought you could control.. Poking at her just enough to draw out the tone you craved, the dominance that made your stomach drop and your pulse race in your chest. The dominance that controlled your every movement and step. Desperate for that tone. But now, remembering the night befores punishment, a thorough spanking with her red paddle and her thin red belt, that game had stopped being so fun. Her bare hand spanking was beginning to feel intense.
She clicked her tongue with clear disapproval the moment your ankles kicked upward again. Her hand moved, heavy, settling on your thigh like a warning bell in your mind. Her other hand fisted sharply in your hair, pulling your head just enough to arch your back, to remind you that every breath, movement and motion, was under her control, right in her grasp. Her voice poured down over you, low and unyielding, melting any pride that was left.
“What did I fucking say about your legs?” She growled, each word a sting almost as sharp as her palm against your already bruised skin. “Keep them down.” Her grip in your hair tightened just a fraction, possessive in nature. “Be a good girl for Mommy.” Her dominance vibrated down your spine and you couldnt help the involuntary quiver of your thighs.
She doesn’t expect obedience, rather. She demands it. She commands it. Her presence of a force, sharp and electric, felt deep within your core. You don’t choose to obey, you can’t help it.
