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Part 2. Art, Ink & Color Manipulation (+ some more)
⋆.˚ Ink-Fusion 🂡 Uses specialized, conductive ink to draw intricate geometric patterns directly onto fabric or skin. Grants the ability to program properties into materials, instantly turning lightweight cloth into bulletproof armor or electrical insulators (for example)
⋆.˚ Chroma-Shift 🂡 Uses quirk-infused spray paint and paint bombs to manipulate physical matter by altering its color. Grants the power to rewrite an object's density, temperature, or state of matter based on the hue it is painted
⋆.˚ Graffiti Phantom 🂡 Dissolves the user's physical body into liquid spray paint to merge directly into flat surfaces as a 2D mural. Grants high-speed 2D traversal, stealth ambushes, and the ability to manifest semi-solid 3D paint constructs directly out of the surface (as if "painting" over reality)
⋆.˚ The printer-error 🂡 Splits the user's physical body into four distinct, misaligned color layers (Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Key). Grants the power to distribute their physical mass and hitbox across these separate, semi-transparent silhouettes to phase through attacks and slip through narrow gaps (though their sensory perception splits into four perspectives)
⋆.˚ Emote-Haze 🂡 Projects a physical, color-shifting cloud of atmospheric gas fueled entirely by the user's emotions. Grants the power to warp local physics — generating crushing gravity, high-frequency static barriers, or zero-gravity zones — depending entirely on the hue of the emitted vapor
⋆.˚ Petroleum Slick 🂡 Secretes a highly combustible, iridescent hydrocarbon fluid from the hands and feet to coat the battlefield. Grants the ability to effortlessly slide across surfaces on a shimmering rainbow trail, or ignite the low-flashpoint fluid with a friction spark to unleash explosive, localized bursts of green, blue, and violet fire
Part 1. Fauna & Hybrid Mutations
Hemic Forge & Bio-Alteration
Earth, Mind & Cosmic Manipulation
Karmic & Sentient Forces
P.S. I might have added a few more while writing 😅
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"I love you but you're doing wrong in a way I cannot condone" and "I hate you but you're being wronged in a way I cannot stomach" are top tier and I need more of them.
Wanda Maximoff is a soft dom with the patience of a saint and the power of, well…the Scarlet Witch.
She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t need to. She knows what her малыш (baby) wants before they’ve fully formed the thought. Perks of being able to sense desire like a second heartbeat. There’s something devastating about the way she’ll smile, just slightly, when she feels that wanting spike. Like she’s letting her малыш in on a secret only the two of them know.
Her touch is deliberate. Fingertips trailing along skin with just enough pressure to leave sparks in their wake, like her magic is humming right beneath the surface. Sometimes it is—those red tendrils appearing when she’s particularly focused, wrapping around wrists or ankles, warm and firm and utterly unbreakable until she decides otherwise. The control is absolute but never cruel. She’s not interested in taking; she’s interested in giving so thoroughly that it unmakes.
Wanda pays attention to everything. The hitch of breath. The arch of a spine. The way hands clench in sheets or reach for her. She catalogs it all with that sharp mind of hers and uses it like a roadmap. She’ll edge her милая to the brink with a kind of focused intensity that feels like being studied, known, worshipped—and then she’ll pull back with a whispered “Not yet, милая” that’s somehow both gentle and absolutely unquestionable.
She talks. Constantly. And it’s devastating. Sokovian endearments mixed with filth, delivered in that accented voice that dips lower when she’s aroused. Praise that feels earned because Wanda doesn’t give empty compliments. When she says “You’re doing so well for me” or “Look how perfect you are like this,” it lands like truth.
Aftercare with Wanda is instinctive. She’s already pulling her малыш close, already summoning water or a blanket or whatever’s needed without having to ask. Her fingers card through hair, her lips press to a temple, and she murmurs softly until breathing evens out. She holds like she hugs—completely, protectively, like she can shield her милая from the whole world.
The vibe? Being undone slowly by someone who knows exactly how to take someone apart and put them back together better than before.
Natasha Romanoff fucks like it’s a mission she’s been planning for weeks and failure is not an option.
She’s tactical about it. Methodical. She knows every inch of her сладкий кролик (sweet bunny) like she’s memorized a dossier—every freckle, every scar, every spot that makes breath catch. She’s mapped it with her hands, her mouth, her teeth. The Red Room taught her to weaponize her body; she chose to reclaim it by learning to give pleasure with the same deadly precision she once used for other things.
Natasha is tactile. Her hands are everywhere—gripping hips hard enough to leave marks, tangling in hair, pressing her сладкий кролик into the mattress with casual strength that’s a reminder of what she’s capable of. She doesn’t hesitate. There’s no tentative exploration; she knows what she wants and how to get it. The confidence is staggering. Overwhelming. She’ll pin her сладкий кролик down and take her time despite the urgency in her own breathing, because control is something she needs.
And Natasha? She’s an eater. The kind who will spend what feels like hours between her сладкий кролик’s thighs, holding them open when they try to close, using her mouth like it’s what she was put on this earth to do. She’s maddeningly thorough. Patient in a way that contradicts everything else about her—until she’s not, until she’s demanding and relentless and won’t stop even when her сладкий кролик is sobbing that it’s too much. She knows better. Her grip tightens, her tongue works with devastating precision, and she doesn’t come up for air until she’s satisfied with her work. Which takes a while.
She’s a giver, but it’s almost selfish in its intensity; she gets off on making someone fall apart. Watching the loss of composure, feeling thighs tremble around her head, hearing her name gasped or moaned or sobbed. That’s the mission objective. She’s not satisfied until her сладкий кролик is thoroughly wrecked, and she has the stamina and focus to make it happen again. And again. She’ll keep going until her сладкий кролик is boneless and shaking, until please becomes a prayer without a clear ask attached to it.
Nat doesn’t talk as much as Wanda does, but when she does it’s direct. Filthy. Sometimes in Russian because she knows exactly what it does. Commands delivered in that low rasp: “Eyes on me.” “Stay still.” “One more, I know you can.” There’s no room for argument. She’s not asking.
Aftercare isn’t optional with her. It’s necessary, unavoidable, and absolutely perfect. She doesn’t do things halfway, and this is no exception. The second she’s done pulling her сладкий кролик apart, she’s already shifting into the next phase. Her hands gentle immediately, careful now, almost reverent. She’ll clean her сладкий кролик up herself—warm cloth, steady hands, murmured Russian that sounds like apologies even when there’s nothing to apologize for.
She needs to put her сладкий кролик back together as thoroughly as she unmade them. It’s non-negotiable. She’ll bring water and make sure it’s drunk. She’ll rearrange pillows and pull blankets up with exacting precision. Her fingers will trace lazy patterns on skin—grounding herself as much as her сладкий кролик—and she’ll stay close even when her instinct is to retreat. Especially then. Sometimes she needs to be held after, even if she won’t ask for it directly. But she’ll press her forehead to her сладкий кролик’s shoulder, or tuck herself against their side, and that’s as close to asking as Nat gets.
The vibe? Being absolutely destroyed by someone who knows exactly what they’re doing and won’t stop until the job is done to her exacting standards.
When they’re both involved, it’s an experience that rewires their сладкая любовь’s (sweet love) entire understanding of pleasure.
Wanda’s patient unraveling and Natasha’s relentless precision. Magic and muscle. Soft commands and firm grips. One of them whispering praise while the other delivers filthy demands. They work in tandem like they’ve choreographed it, because in a way they have—they know each other well enough to anticipate, to move as a unit.
Wanda will hold their сладкая любовь still with her magic while Natasha works. Or Natasha will pin their сладкая любовь down while Wanda takes her time. They’re competitive even here, each trying to pull more reactions, more sounds, more surrender. But it’s never truly a competition because they both win when сладкая любовь is thoroughly undone between them.
The aftercare is immaculate. Wanda’s gentle hands and soft words, Natasha’s quiet attentiveness and the way she’ll just… stay close. Water appears without asking. Blankets materialize. Their сладкая любовь gets cleaned up and held and told how good they were until the world stops spinning.
Between them, there’s safety to fall apart completely. Because they’ll catch every piece.
She doesn’t grab—she enfolds. Her arms wrap around with this gentle completeness, like she’s trying to shield someone from the entire world and almost succeeds. She’s warm, always warmer than expected, like there’s a banked fire living just beneath her skin. that chaos magic humming through her veins radiates outward, and even without seeing the red wisps, it’s there. A subtle vibration that settles deep.
She smells like cardamom and old books. Vanilla too, if she’s been stress-baking (which is often). There’s something else underneath, harder to name—the faint tang of magic, or maybe just the specific scent of someone who runs hot, who radiates safety. Fabric softener. Warmth that lingers.
When Wanda hugs someone, she tucks her chin over their shoulder or rests her forehead against theirs. She closes her eyes. Commits fully, not distracted, not already thinking three steps ahead. Just present. Completely there.
Her sweaters are always soft—oversized and worn-in, the kind that feel like being wrapped in a blanket that whispers “i’ve got you” or “you’re okay, любов, you’re okay” in that sokovian accent that’s seen too much but chose softness anyway.
Hugging wanda feels like being seen—every messy, broken, beautiful part—and being loved regardless. Like she’s looked into the worst of it and decided it’s all worth holding onto.
It brings to mind rainy afternoons. Oversteeped tea. The weight of a quilt. That moment right before sleep when everything finally goes quiet.
A hug from Natasha Romanoff feels like being anchored.
She’s not soft about it—Nat doesn’t do anything softly, not really. Her hugs are firm. decisive. Like she’s assessed the situation and determined what’s needed is to be held together, so that’s exactly what she does. Her arms lock around with surprising strength, and there’s something grounding about it. secure. an unspoken promise that she won’t let go.
She smells like leather and clean linen. Gun oil, faint and sharp. There’s usually a hint of her shampoo—something uncomplicated, cedarwood or mint—and underneath, the ghost of whatever high-end perfume a mission required last week. But mostly she smells clean, minimal, purposeful. She learned a long time ago that scent gives things away.
Natasha doesn’t waste movement. She pulls in close, one hand between the shoulder blades and the other cradling the back of someone’s head, and holds tight. Like she’s done this for teammates bleeding out, for frightened assets, for Clint. She knows how to make a hug a promise: I’m not going anywhere.
She might not say anything at all. Words aren’t Nat’s forte when emotions run high. But if she does speak, it’s quiet and certain. “i’m here.” or “we’re okay.” or just a name, soft against hair like a vow.
Her leather jacket is cool and worn smooth in places. There’s a heartbeat underneath if someone’s close enough—steady, controlled, the rhythm of someone trained to betray nothing. But she lets it be felt anyway. that’s the intimacy of it.
Hugging Natasha feels like being protected. Like she’s calculated every threat in a three-block radius and positioned herself between them and all of it. Like for these seconds, these breaths, there’s permission to stop being strong because she’s strong enough for two.
It brings to mind the sound of a door locking. The first deep breath after surfacing from underwater. The solid thunk of a weapons case closing. Knowing someone has your six.
When they both hug someone at once, which happens more than expected because they’re secretly competitive about comfort, it’s overwhelming in the best way.
Wanda’s warmth and natasha’s certainty. magic and muscle. Soft sweater and leather jacket. Cardamom mixing with gun oil in a combination that shouldn’t work but somehow redefines safety.
Wanda whispers reassurances while Natasha just holds tighter.
Broken things can be made whole. Strength comes in different forms. Love is both the soft hand and the steady one.
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Notes: SFW. NSFW. Top Wanda. Bottom Wanda. Domme Wanda. Sub Wanda. Top Reader. Bottom Reader. Domme Reader. Sub Reader. Female reader. Fluffy and smutty. Let me know if you want me to do a part 2 with other versions x
➤ Mommy Wanda (southern Christian)
: ̗̀➛ She loves to brush your hair for you in the mornings, and she always gets a little smile on her face when your baby hairs show.
: ̗̀➛ As dark as her secret desires can be, she adores to see you in pretty white dresses and pretty shoes. Your softness is what has always drawn her in ever since she met you.
: ̗̀➛ She packs lunch for you every morning before you both go off to work, and due to her impeccable taste, you always enjoy every bite. Especially because whenever there's a few bites left untouched, you come face to face with her infamous head tilt.
: ̗̀➛ She loves to spoil you rotten. Each time she catches your eyes looking at something in the store for more than 5 seconds, you wind up unwrapping it a day later. And she always loves to say, "I'll buy you whatever pretty thing you want, darling. So long as I can watch you try it on and twirl in it for me."
Nsfw:
: ̗̀➛ She wants to devour you in every possible way she can. Your innocence and delicateness make her want to ensure that everybody treats you as the sweet flower that you are, and only she gets to treat you as the sinner she finds herself wanting you to be. She feels guilty for it at times. When you're fast asleep with your head on her chest, breathing as softly as a little kitten, she wants to scold herself for the things that run through her head. Your thighs on each side of her hips as you ride her, rutting and squirming as she has her lips attached to your breasts, catching glimpses of your cross necklace bouncing along your neck with your desperate rhythm. Oh, she wants you. She wants to take the sweetest parts of you and show you how sweet it can be to find a release in her. The question is, will you let her?
➤ Emo Wanda
: ̗̀➛ You were the first out of you two to confess your feelings, because no matter the fact that she was a literal telepath, she still had no idea if you felt the same way about her as she did for you.
: ̗̀➛ As bossy as she could be with her brother and Clint, you noticed that she was different when it came to pretty women. She could hardly look Natasha or Maria in the eyes for months, which made training sessions quite difficult at times. You found her shyness to be incredibly endearing, and you always get punished with a telepathically-sent-headache whenever you call her "cute."
: ̗̀➛ One of her favourite things that you do is when you play with the rings on her fingers whenever you're anxious or have missed her. Whenever you two are watching a scary movie together, you always end up taking her hand in yours and fiddle around with her rings to keep you grounded. And after she's come back from any sort of mission that lasted more than two days, you'd spend the night nuzzled into her neck with your fingers playing with her hands.
Nsfw:
: ̗̀➛ You found a thrill in Wanda that you had never found in anybody else before. Wanda was powerful, intimidating, and her rage scared you when you first met. So when you kissed her for the first time and heard a small whimper escape from her lips, you were the most turned on you had ever been. And ever since then, that desire hasn't left you, it's only grown. Each time you get to watch Wanda squirm beneath your lips with your hands gripping onto her thighs, you drown in her. You drown in her pleading and begging. She could set the world on fire with a flick of her finger, and here she is, begging you to fuck her with tears ruining her perfect eyeliner.
➤ Mommy Wanda (has the twins and ex-husband)
: ̗̀➛ You never believed that you would ever find the amount of comfort and safety in a person as you have found in Wanda. You can run to her, you can break in her arms, you can cry with her, you can sing with her, you can laugh with her, and you have never loved someone as much as you love her. And to her, you are her forever love.
: ̗̀➛ She loves nothing more than watching you play with her boys whenever they're energetic. Whether it's pillow fights, Mario Kart, splash attacks in the swimming pool, or piggy back rides, her heart fills with warmth at the sound of all your giggles.
: ̗̀➛ Baking is something that Wanda finds peace in after a stressful week at work. She loves to follow them exactly by the instructions, which is exactly why she chases you out of the kitchen everytime you steal a handful of chocolate chips or attempt to start flour fights.
: ̗̀➛ Wanda can always tell when you have something weighing you down. A simple "Sweet girl, come here. Tell me what's wrong, hm? Talk to me," will have you crumbling into her for warmth and care. And as you list every worry on your mind, she'll nod along with open ears and open arms as she brushes her fingers through your hair. And when it's over, you fall asleep against her chest to the sound of her humming her favourite lullabies.
Nsfw:
: ̗̀➛ Before you came into her life, Wanda never truly knew the extent of her desires. With Vision, it was always simple and the same. But after Wanda's first conversation with you, she knew that there were desires within her that she had never paid any attention to. And now that you're hers, now that your heart belongs to her, she makes sure that your body is well aware of who it belongs to as well. And oh, she loves to ruin you. She'll have your hands cuffed to the headboard as she thrusts herself hard and deep inside of you, and in the middle of fucking you to the point of tears, she'll give you sweet kisses and call you her sweetest girl. There's nothing that gives her more pleasure than watching your eyes fill with both adoration and tears for her. "Just like that, just like that baby. You're truly my perfect angel, aren't you?"
Notes: Domme Wanda. Top Wanda. Switch Wanda. Switch Reader. NSFW sections. Mostly SFW. Fluffy and smutty.
Part 1 over here.
➤ CEO Wanda
: ̗̀➛ When Wanda hired you to be her assistant, she knew she shot herself in the foot. But your determination to answer each of her interview questions and look her in the eye while doing so, despite the shake in your voice and hands, showed her that you were the right choice for the job. But boy, she didn't expect it to be so damn hard to keep her hands off of you.
: ̗̀➛ Your first kiss was born out of an argument in her office late one night. You didn't understand why she was being so cold to you, why she had you running around doing errands as far away from the office as possible, and why she always looked so tense and angry on those rare occasions that she looked you in the eyes. You expected to be fired as soon as you were finished letting all your words out. What you didn't expect was for her to pull you in by your blazer collar to smash her lips against yours, but once your mind caught up with what was happening, you sunk right into her.
: ̗̀➛ She loves to go shopping with you when there's a fancy work event coming up. She adores how shy you look everytime you walk out of the dressing room, and she loves getting a little kick out of getting you to spin around in the outfits for her.
: ̗̀➛ She always get concerned about the power imbalance between the two of you at work, but you always reassure her of how much you love your job, and she can't help but smile everytime she walks into her office in the mornings and finds a breakfast tray laid out for her with a cute note from you.
Nsfw:
: ̗̀➛ Your sex life with Wanda is heavily dependent on her moods after work, and honestly, you never minded that. If she's had a long day of meetings, she loves it when she gets to sink into the couch with a glass of wine in her hand and your eager mouth between her legs. If she's had a day full of disagreements and decisions she hadn't enjoyed, she loves to take her anger out on you, in a consensual way. You adore the way she grips you a little rougher and fucks into you a bit harder, and you especially adore the sound of her grunts next to your ear.
➤ Infinity War Wanda
: ̗̀➛ Ever since you and Wanda ran off to Edinburgh to live a more peaceful life, away from all the missions and the politics surrounding the accords, you two have never been happier.
: ̗̀➛ Wanda loves to take you to all the nearest cafés just to watch your eyes light up at all the bakery treats and muffins.
: ̗̀➛ You give the best massages. Which is exactly why Wanda adores it when you shower with her during her hair-dyeing process. You always help her to rinse her hair out with the most gentlest of touches, which is the sort of touch that Wanda is still getting used to and grows more attached to each day.
: ̗̀➛ With your windows and curtains wide open, you and Wanda often stay up for hours through the night, sipping on tea and coffee as you talk the night away. Sometimes you do some midnight baking or dancing, but no matter what you two do, it's always amazing when it's done with her.
Nsfw:
: ̗̀➛ Wanda has only ever wanted a normal life. Of course, sex in the bedroom could get a bit extra spicy at times, but you adore the softness of the way you two make love. There isn't a set dynamic, no domme or sub, simply two people in love who love to be all over each other. Your favourite is when the both of you ride one anothers fingers, so that you can moan into each other's mouths and orgasm together with a messy kiss.
➤ Westview Wanda
: ̗̀➛ Wanda didn't expect Thanos. Nor your new life that you apparently made for yourself during the 5 years she was missing. Nor the devastation that would rip through her because of it all. So, she did what she had to do. Instead of having a conversation with you to see if the woman she spotted you with was a coworker or wife, well, she couldn't face what the answer had a chance of being. She needed to take you.
: ̗̀➛ Every morning, you woke up to a peppy wife and the sounds of the birds chirping away at the nearby park around the corner. You never wondered why there were never any children there. You were never given the chance to wonder about anything, really.
: ̗̀➛ Your favourite part of your day was swimming with Wanda in your backward. She always looked so ravishing in her swimsuit, and you enjoyed the feeling of her eyes on you whenever you were relaxing in the pool or the hammock. You could swear you saw tears fall down her cheeks sometimes, but her sunglasses always made it difficult for you to tell. And before you could ask, you were always distracted by a kiss and a pool-side margarita.
Nsfw:
: ̗̀➛ Wanda wasn't sure how to feel about touching you while knowing what she had done. She knew that something like that was simply too far, too cruel, and too unforgivable. So, she could barely mask her surprise when you were the one to come onto her. She did a deep dive into your mind at that moment, and let out a little gasp to find your everlasting desire to touch her again like you had done all those years ago. That night, well, neither of you let up. Until the sun rose, you and Wanda were all over one another, and she was certain that during those hours, she didn't have a single ounce of control over your mind. No, that was all you. All you, your tongue, and your pure arousal for her dripping onto her thigh.
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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 own 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.
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