mili

The compound at night always feels different. During the day it is loud in that chaotic, comfortable way that comes with too many strong personalities sharing the same building. Someone is always sparring in the training room, someone is always arguing in the kitchen, and Tony’s lab is always humming like the walls themselves are alive. But when the night settles in, the noise disappears until the place feels cavernous and hollow, long corridors lit only by dim strips of light along the floor and the quiet ventilation system whispering through the walls.

At the end of one of those corridors, a thin line of light slips beneath a bedroom door that should have been dark hours ago. Inside the room, Wanda sits curled slightly forward on the edge of her bed, her laptop balanced on her thighs and casting a pale glow over her face. Her hair is messy, falling around her shoulders in dark waves, and she hasn’t noticed how long she’s been sitting there. The video on the screen reflects in her eyes while she watches with a stillness that borders on unnatural focus, the kind of attention someone gives when they are afraid to blink and miss something.

On the screen, it’s you.

The footage is clearly recorded from a distance, the frame slightly shaky like the phone had been held carefully but not perfectly steady. You’re in the training room, standing in front of the heavy punching bag with your hair pulled back and your shirt damp with sweat from a long session. Every strike you throw makes the chain above the bag creak softly, and the force of your hits sends the bag swinging away before snapping back toward you again. Your breathing is heavy but controlled, shoulders tense with effort as you reset your stance and throw another punch.

Wanda doesn’t move.

Her eyes track every movement you make, every shift of your body, every small habit you probably don’t even realize you have. The way you roll your shoulders when your muscles tighten. The way you wipe sweat from your brow with the back of your wrist instead of stopping to grab a towel. The way your jaw tightens slightly when you get frustrated with yourself.

She has watched this exact video so many times she could probably recreate every frame from memory.

Still, she drags the cursor back to the beginning and presses play again.

Your first punch lands again with the same dull thud, and Wanda leans slightly closer to the screen without even noticing she’s doing it. Her fingers rest lightly against the laptop near the edge of the frame, almost close enough to touch the image of you frozen in motion when she pauses it for a moment. Her lips part just slightly while she studies your face on the screen, her eyes moving slowly across the shape of it like she’s committing it to memory again even though she already knows it better than she should.

“You look even better angry,” she murmurs quietly to herself, her voice soft and almost breathless in the empty room. The words aren’t ashamed or hesitant, just thoughtful in the way someone might admire a painting they’ve seen a hundred times but still can’t stop looking at. Her fingers tap lightly against the trackpad before the video begins moving again, and her gaze sharpens with the same intensity it always does whenever you’re on the screen.

Her laptop is full of these videos.

Not just one or two.

Dozens.

Clips she recorded without you ever noticing. Moments she caught when no one else was paying attention. Little fragments of your life inside the compound that she collected slowly over weeks until the folder filled itself without her even realizing how much she had gathered.

There’s one of you asleep on the couch in the common room during movie night, your head tipped back slightly and your arm hanging lazily over the edge while everyone else argued about what film to watch next. There’s another where you’re sitting at the kitchen island early in the morning, half-awake while you drink coffee and stare blankly at nothing like your brain hasn’t fully started working yet. There’s a clip from a mission where you’re shouting instructions over the chaos while civilians run behind you, your voice calm and steady in the middle of absolute disaster.

Wanda opens that one next.

The street in the video is loud and messy with dust and smoke curling through the air, distant sirens wailing somewhere behind the buildings. The camera angle is high up from a rooftop where she had been standing earlier that day, far enough away that no one noticed she had pulled her phone out for a moment. She watches the footage with the same quiet intensity while your figure runs into frame below, your boots splashing through a shallow puddle as you move toward the fight with your weapon in hand.

“You didn’t even hesitate,” she says softly, almost admiringly, as the video continues playing in front of her. Her thumb traces lightly along the edge of the screen while she watches you crouch behind a car and shout something toward Steve across the street. Your expression is sharp and focused, your attention completely locked on the mission like the chaos around you barely even registers.

That was the moment she started recording you more often.

Because she realized something then.

She realized she could watch you whenever she wanted.

All she had to do was keep the moments.

Her laptop shifts slightly when she moves it closer, the glow of the screen lighting up the dark room while she scrolls through the folder again. Each file name is meaningless and random, but she knows exactly what each one contains without needing to check. Her memory for anything related to you is perfect in a way that almost surprises her sometimes.

She clicks another video.

The common room appears this time, warm lighting filling the space while the team relaxes after a long day. Sam is sprawled across the floor with snacks scattered around him, Clint is half-asleep in an armchair, and someone is talking loudly near the kitchen entrance about something that clearly isn’t important.

But Wanda barely notices any of them.

Because you’re sitting on the couch.

And next to you is Natasha.

Wanda’s gaze sharpens immediately, her attention locking onto the screen with an intensity that makes her shoulders tense slightly. The video had been recorded casually like the others, her phone angled from the hallway where she had been standing unnoticed while everyone relaxed inside the room.

You’re laughing at something Natasha says, leaning back against the couch cushions while you shove her shoulder lightly in playful protest. Natasha smiles in that small knowing way she has, her body turning slightly toward you as the conversation continues.

Wanda’s fingers tighten against the laptop.

She watches carefully.

Every second.

Every small shift of your posture.

Natasha leans closer to say something quieter.

And then you kiss her.

It’s quick. Soft. Casual in a way that makes it clear it wasn’t the first time.

But it’s enough.

The moment it happens, Wanda goes completely still.

Her breathing stops.

Her eyes lock onto the screen like the image might change if she stares hard enough.

The video keeps playing, but she isn’t hearing the voices anymore. The only thing she can see is the way Natasha smiles against your lips before you pull away, the two of you continuing to talk like the kiss meant nothing at all.

Wanda’s chest tightens in a sharp, sudden way that makes something inside her snap.

The laptop slams shut.

The sound echoes sharply through the room.

For a single second the silence hangs heavy in the air.

Then the room erupts.

Scarlet energy bursts from Wanda in a violent wave that rattles the walls, the desk across the room lifting into the air before smashing sideways into the wall hard enough to splinter the wood. Papers scatter everywhere as the lamp shatters against the floor, glass exploding across the carpet in glittering shards.

Her breathing becomes uneven as another pulse of power ripples through the room, sending a chair flying into the door with a

heavy metallic bang that dents the surface.

“She doesn’t get to touch you,” Wanda says under her breath, her voice low and shaking with something darker than anger. The red glow around her hands flickers violently while the mirror above her dresser cracks straight down the center, splintering outward into jagged lines.

“You don’t even look at me,” she mutters, almost like she’s thinking the words out loud rather than saying them intentionally. Her gaze drifts toward the fallen laptop on the floor across the room, her chest rising and falling sharply while the faint scarlet glow around her fingers continues pulsing with restless energy.

Another surge of power rattles the walls again before finally beginning to fade, the red light slowly dimming until the room falls back into silence. The destruction left behind is scattered everywhere, broken furniture and glass littering the floor while Wanda kneels in the middle of the wreckage with her hands resting loosely against her thighs.

Her eyes stay fixed on the laptop.

Because it still has the video on it.

The moment with you.

The moment that should have been hers.

And then—

There’s a knock on the door.

The sound freezes her instantly.

“…Wanda?” your voice calls gently from the other side, muffled through the metal but unmistakable.

Her heart slams violently against her ribs.

“I heard something crash,” you continue, concern threading through your voice as your hand touches the handle. “Are you okay in there?”

Wanda doesn’t move.

Her gaze drifts slowly toward the door.

Because you’re standing right outside it.

And suddenly the distance that had always existed between you—the safety of watching from hallways, from rooftops, from the glow of a laptop screen—is gone.

Now you’re here.

Only a door between you.

And Wanda has been watching you for far too long to pretend she doesn’t want it opened.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Masterlist

It had been torture for Wanda ever since she had moved into the Avengers compound. 

She had been thrilled when she found out that the room she was placed in was next to Natasha Romanoff and Y/N's. She was just a wall away from the Black Widow and one of the most powerful super soldiers in the world; she hoped that the proximity would help her make some new friends and maybe even learn a few new combat skills.

She couldn't have been more wrong, though. The only thing she got from the proximity was a pair of drenched panties every night. 

Every single night, without fail, Natasha and Y/N made love. A better way to describe it would be to say they fucked, considering how loudly she heard Natasha cry out for them and how she could always hear the headboard slamming against the wall. 

She thought that the walls in such a high tech facility would be thicker, but alas, she was stuck hearing Natasha get fucked the way she yearned to every night. But she wouldn't deny that she liked it. Now, she was so used to it that she got sad if she couldn't hear them.

Tonight was particularly intense. Y/N was being extra rough, and Natasha was loving every minute of it. Wanda's skirt was up around her waist, her panties long discarded somewhere across her room as she desperately rubbed her clit.

"Fuck, you love this dick, don't you?" Y/N growled, and Wanda could hear their hand coming down to land on Natasha's ass with a loud smack!

She'd begun fingering herself by that point, and she answered Y/N's question with a whisper so there was no risk of the couple hearing, "Y-yes. I love your cock so much, Y/N."

Natasha, on the other hand, wailed out loudly, "Fuck yes, daddy! You feel so fucking good!" 

Y/N grunted in return, their hand coming down on Natasha's ass once more, and Wanda could hear the bed frame slamming against the wall even harder. 

God. Wanda's clit throbbed as she imagined how Y/N looked as Natasha called them daddy. Probably feral and sexy. From listening in on the couple for months, she knew all the things that drove Y/N crazy.

Wanda got lost in her own thoughts, imagining Y/N pounding her, begging daddy to go harder, to use her as their cum dump. The thought of being so thoroughly used made Wanda whine, her hand immediately clasping over her mouth, praying neither of the people in the next room over heard her. 

Fortunately, they were too lost in their own moment to even consider someone could be listening in. At night, when they were like this, they essentially forgot Wanda even existed. 

"Please, please let me cum on your cock, daddy!" Natasha keened, clearly desperate for her orgasm. "I've been such a good girl, please!"

Y/N wasn't the only one who made Wanda's clit throb. Natasha did, too. Wanda would be lying if she said she didn't stare at the woman whenever she had a chance. The Widow had full lips, sensual hips, and curves to die for. Who wouldn't look? 

Wanda always got so needy and sticky when she thought about the older woman. She'd imagine grinding against her, rubbing her cunt against Natasha's as the two women squirmed and whimpered into each other's mouths. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts once again when she heard Y/N's deep, feral voice command Natasha, "Cum, sweet girl. Cum for daddy. You earned it."

That did it for Wanda. Her pussy throbbed, clenching hard around her fingers as she came, letting out a high pitched whine that was fortunately overshadowed by Natasha screaming "FUCK!" over and over again.

She laid there, panting, her sheets soaked with her own fluids. She turned her head, staring at the wall that separated her from the two people she yearned for. For now, she'd find a way to be content with her own fingers and the sounds of their pleasure.

--------------------------------------

Wanda was awoken with a start the next morning at the sound of someone rapping on her door. She had fallen asleep in the same position she had came in last night, skirt bunched up around her waist with nothing covering her underneath.

"Just a moment!" she squeaked out, flying out of bed, scrambling to pick her panties up from where she had tossed them last night and slid them back on. Once she was decent and smoothed her skirt out, looking as presentable as possible for a girl who spent the majority of the night touching herself, she went to open the door.

She froze when she saw that it was the woman she'd spent the whole night listening in on, Natasha Romanoff herself. After gawking for a couple seconds, Wanda stammered, "H-hey, Natasha. What's up?"

Natasha smiled softly at Wanda. Wanda's eyes had gone from Natasha's own to her neck and collarbone, which easily drew the eye, due to the fact that she was absolutely covered in hickeys. Natasha let out a small laugh as she saw the younger woman's eyes dart from her face to her neck, and back again. "What you're staring at is what's up. Y/N and I got a little wild last night, and Fury doesn't tolerate any signs of lovemaking in meetings. I have an info session in fifteen minutes, so I gotta get this covered up. You have any spare concealer?"

Wanda gulped. She had barely heard what Natasha had said. All she had been thinking about were the marks and imagining how amazing it must feel to be marked by Y/N. Once she registered Natasha's question about concealer, she awkwardly turned, inviting Natasha in and beginning to rummage through her makeup bag.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, peeking at the contents of her bag. The spy at heart never truly went away. Eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick. Definitely fitting for the young woman's emo style. 

As for Wanda, she was practically sweating as she dug around for the concealer. She could feel Natasha's eyes on her. She wondered what she was thinking; it felt like Natasha could somehow tell that she had been listening in on she and Y/N last night. God. That thought was just making her more flustered as she desperately shoved different products aside, trying to get to the one Natasha needed.

Finally, she felt the shape of the small bottle of concealer at the bottom of her bag, quickly pulling it out and offering it up to Natasha, almost too eagerly. "Here! Sorry, it was literally at the very bottom of my bag. I hope it works!"

Natasha smiled at her, gazing at Wanda like she was thinking about something more than just concealer. She took it from Wanda's hand, turning it over in her own, examining the shade, before handing it back to her. "You seem pretty good with makeup. Can you put it on for me? It's always such a weird angle, having to cover up hickeys."

A soft blush involuntary spread across Wanda's face at Natasha's request, but she knew she would be a fool to say no. She swallowed hard once again, taking the concealer back and nodding, squeaking out, "Mhm. Sure. Just let me grab a blender."

Wanda turned back to her makeup bag, trying to soothe herself. She'd talked to Natasha many times before, why did she feel so flustered this time? Maybe her crush on the woman was bigger than she thought… Her mind traitorously wandered back to the image of them grinding on each other, and a shiver went through her. She needed to stop. Focus on the moment.

Once Wanda had taken the time to calm herself, feigning difficulty in finding her beauty blender, despite it being at the top of the bag, she made her way back over to Natasha, already sitting at her desk with her makeup light pointed towards her neck. Natasha laughed at how nervous Wanda looked, beckoning her over with an inviting wave of her hand. "Come on, Wanda. I don't bite. Now I only have ten minutes, so let's get this done, and I'll get out of your hair."

Wanda nodded, leaning against the edge of the desk as she squirted some concealer onto the blender, beginning to pat it along the marks on Natasha's neck. Natasha was staring at the younger woman as she worked, but Wanda couldn't handle the redhead's intense gaze, so she opted to look at the marks instead.

She tried to not pay attention to the way her pussy throbbed as she stared at them. She almost hated covering them up, she wanted to stare at the proof of Y/N's passion all day. They were so dark. So intense. So clearly possessive. All she could imagine was being on the receiving end, being pinned to the bed as they laid their claim on her-

"Five minutes, Wanda. We still have half of my neck to go. Chop chop."

Natasha's words snapped her out of it, and she quickly nodded, mumbling, "Sorry," as she reapplied concealer to the blender and patted it into the other side of Natasha's throat. 

Wanda had tried to work fast, but she was a perfectionist at heart, and by the time Natasha had to go, there were still a few spots left. The latter quickly checked herself in the mirror, analyzing Wanda's work before speaking, "Thanks for all you did, Wanda. Better than I've ever done, you're dedicated." 

She then picked up the concealer, twirling it in her fingers as she continued, "Can I take this? There's a couple spots left, I'll just quickly cover them up using my fingers as I walk there, and I'll return this to you later. That okay?"

Wanda nodded, almost dumbly. She would have said yes to anything Natasha asked of her. "Yeah, of course! No worries, just get to your meeting! I hope it goes well!"

Wanda thought she sounded way too earnest. She wanted to kick herself for it. But Natasha just smiled, pocketing the makeup product as she quickly left Wanda's room, calling out as she walked, "Thanks again for everything, hun! I appreciate it!"

Wanda was glad she was no longer in Natasha's line of vision as she said that, because now, her face was red as a tomato. Hun. Natasha had called her a pet name, a term of endearment. She knew it meant nothing. She was just being kind. But Wanda couldn't deny the wetness soaking through her panties after that whole encounter. Now, she'd ruined this pair twice in the span of twelve hours. Fuck.

--------------------------------------

Wanda had hoped to see Natasha sometime throughout the day to strike up another conversation but, unfortunately, no such moment occurred.

She had spent the day training with Clint. Wanda figured Natasha was probably off at the mission she had the info session about this morning. She was disappointed, but she knew she'd see the woman again eventually. Or, maybe, she'd even see Y/N. That would be a dream. She could ask about the concealer, maybe Y/N would bring her back to their room to look for it, and then, if she was lucky, Y/N would-

"Ouch!" Wanda squealed, pulled out of her dirty thoughts by the feeling of one of Clint's arrows grazing her forearm. She was supposed to have been using her magic to stop his fire, but she had been a little too lost in her own head.

She looked down at where the arrow had struck her. No blood, thankfully, but she could already see a bruise forming. She knew that if Steve, her Avengers mentor and sponsor, saw this injury, he would fuss over it for at least a week and prevent her from training, though it was really just a minor scratch. 

Wanda gave Clint a wave, signaling to him she was fine and that she was just going to take care of it as she walked back to her room. Some concealer would cover this up just fine. It's what she always used when she got these little bruises she wanted to hide from Steve.

Her mind had been so lost in the fantasy of Y/N, along with getting surprised by Clint's arrow, that she completely forgot a certain hot redhead currently had her concealer. She rummaged through her makeup bag, spending a whole ten minutes searching, before she looked up, her eyes landing on her makeup light that had been left on from this morning.

Now she remembered. She didn't have the concealer. The hottest woman in the compound did. She didn't want to go hunting for Nat, but she needed the makeup. She had training with Steve at 8:30 tomorrow, and if she didn't have the bruise covered by then, she was screwed. 

She checked the time. 7:15. Y/N and Natasha's ravenous fuck sessions usually didn't start until 8:00 at the very earliest, so she knew she had more than enough time to sneak in their room, quickly look to see if the concealer was there, and sneak back out. 

She was all nerves, but she swallowed her fear and crept out of her room, walking just a few feet away to the couple's. She pressed her ear against the door, listening for any kind of sound at all. Even if they weren't fucking, she still didn't want them to know she was there. 

Fortunately, though, she heard nothing, and, with the help of her magic, unlocked the door and stepped in. She shut the door ever so carefully behind her, creeping down the small entryway towards the main room, already looking frantically for her concealer.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't let herself get distracted. Nope. No way. Not even by Y/N's boxers hanging off the laundry basket, which she yearned to sniff, or Natasha's collection of lingerie she saw through the cracked door of their closet. 

Focus, Wanda, focus, she told herself, In and out. Get the concealer, leave. That's all this is. 

Her eyes traveled from their clothes to their desks. She could tell which one belonged to each resident of the room, with one being strewn with empty protein shake cans and unfinished mission reports, and the other being organized, the only things out on the desk being a planner, a photo of Y/N and Natasha kissing on New Year's, and a thin tube of makeup.

The concealer. Finally. 

Though she had eyes on it, her task was far from over. The desks were all the way in the other corner of their room, and Wanda was still crouched in the entryway, hand hovering over the door handle. 

She took a deep breath, swallowing before beginning to walk across the room. She loved her magic, but in this moment, she wished she had her brother's super speed. Maybe if she were less nervous, she would have thought to just use it to float the concealer across the room. But when has anyone ever thought rationally when they're nervous?

As Wanda got to the desk and snagged the small bottle, shoving it in the pocket of her skirt, she suddenly realized the white noise she hadn't even registered was there in the first place had stopped. A dull hum, a pitter patter that had been going in one ear and out the other was now gone, replaced by the sound of laughter, a man's deep voice, and a woman's smooth voice. 

Her head snapped towards where the voices were coming from, and she saw a door with light coming out from the crack under it. Fuck. She had been so absorbed in their clothes and desks, Wanda's eyes had simply grazed over that door when she had first looked around the room, not even giving it a second thought.

She now immediately registered what it was. A bathroom. God, she felt so stupid. They had been here all along, showering together, and the white noise that the water provided simply bypassed her senses. 

Wanda knew she should have run. Should have booked it out of there the second the concealer landed in her pocket, but as the bathroom door handle began to turn, she froze. Her irrational thoughts overriding her mind once again, she quickly ducked under Natasha's desk, crouching down and hiding behind the chair the best she could. 

Fortunately for her, though, Natasha and Y/N were far too absorbed in each other to even take the slightest notice of her. As they walked, or rather stumbled, out of the bathroom, they were both completely naked, wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing so hard it looked like they were eating each other's faces off. 

"Fuck, I love seeing my marks on you again," Y/N growled, climbing onto the bed, sitting against the headboard as they pulled Natasha on their lap, to which she happily complied, "Fuck Fury for making you cover them up. You're mine, and everyone should know it."

Natasha moaned then as Y/N leaned in, kissing over the marks they had left last night, beginning to redo the ones that had already begun to fade. "Baby, it's just policy. Some things we just have to deal with. Everyone knows you own me. You saw how fast the concealer washed off in the shower."

Y/N simply huffed, continuing to kiss and squeeze at Natasha. "Where'd you even get that, anyway? The brand you get doesn't come off that easily."

Natasha threw her head back, her hands absentmindedly coming up to run through Y/N's wet hair as she mumbled, "The new recruit in the room next to us gave me it. Wanda."

Y/N simply let out a grunt of acknowledgment, their mouth going down to kiss along her collarbone and breasts. Natasha let out a whine, hips bucking before speaking again, "She's a sweetheart, you know. I think she has the hots for me."

Y/N laughed a little, pausing their ministrations to look back up at their lover, "She's cute. I did training with her last week and she shivered every time I put my hands on her to correct her form. She let out a little gasp when my hand went to her hip. I think she's into me, too."

Natasha giggled as she imagined Wanda that way, leaning down to give Y/N another kiss. "Well, who can blame her? You're a sexy man."

Y/N moaned into her kiss, grabbing her and flipping her over so that they were now on top. "And you're the sexiest fuckin' woman I've ever seen. That emo chick can be number two."

The couple descended into foreplay, the topic of Wanda being forgotten, but for the woman under the desk, she couldn't stop replaying their words. Y/N thought she was cute. Natasha thought she was a sweetheart. But, more than anything, they both thought she was sexy. It was nearly too much for her to handle, and she had to slap her hand over her mouth to cover up a squeak that was a bit too close to escaping.

As she did her best to remain quiet, her eyes stayed on the couple she was obsessed with. Natasha and Y/N had gone past the making out phase, and now, she was making her way down their body, pressing kisses along their muscles. 

Once Natasha got to Y/N's cock, she nuzzled against it, her hand instinctively going to their balls to squeeze their erectile pump and make them hard. Y/N's hand came down to Natasha's fiery red hair, and they murmured, "You wanna suck it, princess? You wanna show me how good of a girl you can be?"

Natasha let out a needy whine, murmuring, "Yes, daddy," before leaning in and taking the head of their cock into her mouth, her back arched and her ass sticking out to put on a show for Y/N, and, unknowingly, for Wanda.

Wanda had been wet from the moment their naked bodies had stumbled out of the bathroom, but now, she was completely soaked. Natasha's ass, all soft and ready for the taking, had her mesmerized, and Y/N, hard, huge, and throbbing made Wanda yearn for it to be deep in her throat.

Y/N's hands were in Natasha's hair, guiding her as she sucked them, slowly forcing her to take their cock deeper, making her gag. Wanda was so jealous, so desperate to also have her mouth be used that she reached up, shoving two fingers in her mouth and pretending they were Y/N's cock. 

She began to suck on them, holding in her whimpers the best she could as she followed the directions Y/N gave Natasha. 

"Fuck, take it deep, sweetheart," they'd murmur, and Wanda would push her fingers back as far as they could go. "Get me all nice and wet, baby," they later commanded, and Wanda spit and frothed on her fingers, making them as sloppy as possible.

Wanda could keep quiet during all of those commands, but her resolve finally broke when Y/N shoved Natasha as deep down on their cock as they could, growling, "Swallow my load. All of it. Be a good girl."

The deep, predatory tone of their words, combined with the the visual of Natasha gagging and Wanda's own fingers deep in her throat, were too much for the young woman to handle. Desperately, against her will, she choked out around her own fingers, "Yes, daddy!"

She then froze, fingers stilling in her mouth. Fuck. Did she really just moan that out? No, it had to be Natasha. She was fine, they didn't know she was there. She was just imagining things, right?

As much as she wished that were true, she knew it wasn't when Natasha and Y/N also froze. Natasha slowly pulled off their cock, looking up at them with trepidation. "D-did you hear that? Or am I just imagining things?"

Y/N didn't look tense, though, their eyes just scanned around the room, looking in the more obvious places as they answered, "Mhm. But we're perfectly safe. A voyeur isn't a threat, Nat."

Nat sat back on the bed, still naked as Y/N stood up, beginning to look around the room. They first checked the obvious places, the closet and the entryway, and then they began to go lower.

Wanda knew she didn't have a chance as she watched them glance under the bed, their head then beginning to turn towards the desks, right where she was, fingers still buried deep in her throat. She felt paralyzed.

As Y/N's head turned, their eyes immediately landed on her, but instead of disgust or fear, a predatory smile spread across their face. Wanda looked so fucking adorable. Legs spread, skirt bunched up around her thighs, fingers in her mouth. She was the sweetest thing, just begging to be fucked. 

Y/N made the "come here" hand gesture, speaking lowly as Wanda nervously crawled towards them, "Hey there, sweetheart. You liked what you saw there, huh? Were you feeling a little jealous of Natty?"

Natasha was now perched on the edge of the bed, the look of fear that had previously graced her face being replaced by a look of excitement and desire. "Aww, hey, Wanda! We were just talking about you, you know."

The older woman looked Wanda up and down, taking in the way her skirt was rumpled, drool was dripping down her chin, and her eyes were dilated, full of need. She glanced at Y/N, giggling as she spoke, "You're right. I think she's down bad for us both."

Wanda had never been so embarrassed. Out of all the possible outcomes, this one was the worst. She was living a nightmare. She reached into her skirt pocket, nervously taking out the concealer. She couldn't meet the couple's eyes as she nervously stammered, "I-I wasn't trying to spy! I needed the concealer back to cover up a bruise, and I knew Nat still had it, so I came to look for it! Y-you guys were in the shower, and when I heard you, I just instinctively hid, and then-"

"Hiding doesn't mean getting off to us fucking, though, does it?" Y/N cut in, smirking as they saw Wanda's face flush an even darker shade of red. Both them and Natasha didn't mind what Wanda did, they thought she was adorable, but teasing her was just too fun.

Y/N tilted Wanda's chin up, forcing her to make eye contact with them. The girl could barely stop her eyes from darting around, but Y/N's gaze was magnetic, drawing her in whether she wanted it or not. "We're not mad, love. We think your neediness is just… adorable."

Natasha nodded, sauntering behind Y/N, wrapping her arms around their shoulders as she also gazed at the nervous brunette. She whispered something that Wanda couldn't hear in Y/N's ear, their eyes lighting up as soon as the mystery words left her lips. "That's an amazing idea, Natty. Why don't you ask Wanda what she thinks about it?"

Wanda was trembling now, her eyes darting between the man and the woman, exhilarated and terrified about what Natasha would ask her. The redhead slowly moved away from Y/N's ear, and made deadly eye contact with Wanda. The words that left her lips had Wanda stunned. "Why don't you join us, Wanda? The more the merrier, right? And it's more than obvious that we all want each other."

Wanda was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. Was this real life? Was she dreaming? She knew it was real, but she could barely process it. She'd been listening to these people fuck every night for months, and now she was being offered to join in?

Y/N's fingers then gently rubbed along the bottom of her chin, pulling her from her thoughts. "Use your words, sweet girl. Would you like to join us, or not?"

Wanda immediately nodded, not wanting to risk them thinking she didn't want this. Her voice was shaky, but she blurted out a clear "yes."

Y/N and Natasha exchanged devilish looks at her consent, a silent agreement that this night just got a whole lot more fun. 

Natasha then stepped out from behind Y/N's bulky frame, pressing her naked body against Wanda's still clothed one. She began to lift the younger woman's shirt off as she mumbled, "Y/N and I are bare, it's only fair we get to see your beautiful body in return."

Wanda was completely willing, lifting her arms as Natasha slid her shirt off and stepping out of her skirt and panties as Y/N pulled them down. The couple stepped back to admire Wanda, now completely naked. They each let out a groan, Y/N's hands reaching to squeeze Wanda's ass, and Natasha leaning in to kiss her neck. 

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," Y/N mumbled as they continued to grope her, with Natasha following, saying, "Such a pretty thing. You're gonna look so good all ruined and fucked-out."

Y/N smirked at that, eyes darting between the two women. Wanda could see an idea form in their mind and watched as they sat down on the edge of the bed, spreading their legs so their cock jutted out at full attention. "Wanda, since you seemed so eager to suck your fingers, why don't you suck the real thing instead?"

The brunette's eyes widened, and seconds later, she felt a hand on her back, pushing her down to her knees. She immediately complied, willfully kneeling down and scooting closer to Y/N. Y/N reached down, tilting her chin up and gently rotating her head so she was looking at Natasha, who was sitting beside her. "Natty will guide you if you need help. Just focus on making daddy feel good, okay?"

The way Y/N spoke to her, so gentle and nurturing, had Wanda willing to do absolutely anything they asked. She let out a low whimper as she leaned forward, eagerly taking the head of their cock into her mouth, and beginning to suck. She didn't have much experience, but when she heard Y/N groan, "Fuck!" she knew she was doing something right.

She continued to focus on the tip, gently sucking and running her tongue along the ridge, when suddenly, she felt a hand on the back of her head, pushing her further down. "Take it deeper, sweetheart. They love to be deep in a warm, wet throat." 

Natasha's words washed over Wanda, and she quickly accommodated, allowing the older woman's hand to push more of Y/N's cock into her mouth. She gagged once, her throat constricting around their length, but it only made them throb and moan louder. "Goddamn, your mouth feels so good!"

Wanda's heart skipped a beat at Y/N's crude praise, and she continued to hold them as deep in her throat as she could before she gagged again, needing to pull back to catch her breath. Natasha's hands immediately went down to her hair, pulling it back and leaning down to give her a kiss on the mouth. "Good girl. Take a breath."

Wanda did, but she wanted more. She took her moment to breathe and then took Y/N back into her mouth. She listened to Natasha's words of guidance, licking along the underside just the way they liked and leaving kisses on their sensitive spots.

Y/N's hands were in Wanda's hair now, having pushed Natasha's away long ago. A low, deep groan tore from their throat as they tensed up, pushing their cock as deep into Wanda's throat as possible as they groaned, "'M gonna cum. Swallow it all, baby. I know you can do it."

Wanda whimpered once around their cock, the vibrations being what made them lose it. Seconds later, they were roaring out sounds of pleasure as she felt their cock throb against her tongue, leaking clear, tangy fluid into her mouth. 

They stayed there for a couple moments, making sure Wanda had taken their whole load before gently pulling her off of their cock. The younger woman's cheeks were streaked with tears of pleasure, her makeup running down. Natasha didn't waste a minute in pulling Wanda into her arms, whispering praises to her.

"Shh, there we go. You did so well. You made daddy feel so good." The redhead whispered, leaning down to give Wanda a sloppy, wet kiss on the mouth. She groaned as she tasted Y/N's cum on on the other woman's tongue, her hands squeezing Wanda's hips as she kept the younger girl close. "I've only seen them cum that hard a couple of times. You did such a good job."

The praise had Wanda melting; she happily leaned against Natasha, feeling the warmth of her body as she caught her breath. Y/N then approached them, calmed down now slightly from their orgasm, and pulled both women up from the floor. 

They carried Wanda over to the lounge chair beside the bed, kissing her forehead as they spoke, "Good girl, princess. You pleased me. Just rest and recover from that while I fuck Natty. You can touch yourself if you need to, but don't cum. Once I'm done with her, that pretty pussy is all mine."

Part of Wanda wanted to protest, wanted to beg that she should get their cock first, but the obedience embedded in her soul and the urge to see the action she had heard through the wall each night overrode it, and all she did was mumble, "Yes, daddy."

Natasha, who had been standing by the bed, giggled as Y/N practically pounced on her, pinning her to the bed as they kissed down her body. Wanda watched longingly as Y/N lavished attention on Natasha's breasts, kissing and sucking at her hard, pink nipples, eliciting whimpers from the older woman.

Wanda's pussy was already throbbing from having sucked Y/N off, and now, watching them make love to Natasha made it ache. She had been listening in on the couple for so long, she wanted it to be her so badly.

Y/N stroked their cock once, rubbing it along Natasha's own drenched folds to get it ready before sliding in. Natasha let out a loud moan, and Y/N's hands immediately went to her waist, pinning her down as they began to thrust. "Fuck, you're so wet for me, pretty girl."

Hearing Y/N's praise directly, not through a wall, had Wanda going even crazier, and she began to rub her clit slowly, imagining it was them touching her. She let out a low whimper, and both Natasha and Y/N glanced at her, their eyes widening with lust as they saw how needy she was.

Y/N then began to really fuck Natasha, slamming into her with long, deep strokes, causing her to cry out and dig her nails into their back for support. Once she adjusted to the new rhythm, she looked over at Wanda and purred, "You're next, princess. Get ready to be fucking ruined."

The end of Natasha's sentence turned into a loud wail as Y/N's cock hit that sweet spot inside her, the one that made her see stars. Their huge hands were on her waist, pinning her to the bed as they fucked into her like she was nothing more than a toy for their pleasure. Her nails left bright red marks on their muscular back, marks Wanda wished so badly were her own.

Fortunately for her, she could tell that Natasha was close to cumming, and it would be her turn soon. Y/N reached down, rubbing the redhead's clit to finally push her over the edge. She moaned and writhed, screaming out Y/N's name, which sounded even louder now that there was no barrier. 

Y/N was panting and groaning as they felt Natasha cum, her tight walls clenching around their length, causing Y/N to cum, too. They growled, "Take my load. There's my good little slut." 

Their crude words made Wanda's sopping cunt clench around her fingers, she had now been fucking herself in time with Y/N's rhythm, another whimper escaping her lips as she imaged they were saying those words to her. Their focus remained on Natasha for the moment, making sure all of their cum was inside her before they turned back to Wanda, slowly standing up and walking over to where she was.

Wanda was an absolute mess, and Y/N couldn't get enough of it. Her legs were spread, two fingers buried deep in her soaked pussy, her juices dripping down onto the chair. She was sweating, her nipples hard and needy, and her face was streaked with the eyeliner that was so perfect only an hour ago. 

Y/N reached down, taking her free hand and guiding her over to the bed. "You're such a needy thing, baby. I know, it must have been hard having to watch Natty get what you desperately needed, but since you were a good girl, now it's your turn."

Wanda could only squeak out a small "thank you," her mind was mostly mush at this point. Natasha had scooted over so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaving plenty of space in the center where Y/N guided Wanda to lay down, making sure that her head was resting comfortably on the pillows. 

Natasha reached over, brushing some stray hairs from Wanda's face as Y/N slowly began to touch her, trailing their hands along her curves, occasionally cupping her breasts or rubbing her nipples. "Tell me what you need, Wanda. How do you want me to make you feel good?"

Wanda could barely speak; her mind was already fuzzy, and that in combination with the man she had spent months yearning for being on top of her had her brain short circuiting. Her eyes darted between Natasha and Y/N, and once Natasha reached down to squeeze her hand in support, she was finally able to mumble, "I want your cock. I want you to fuck me."

Hearing such dirty words from the shy girl made Y/N shiver, and it took all their strength to not just ram right into Wanda right then. They leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Wanda's neck as their began to rub their cock through her folds, just like they did with Natasha before.

God, Wanda was so wet. They let out a deep groan, their tip hitting her clit, making her squeal. She was already so sensitive. They continued to kiss along her face and neck, mumbling as they got close to her ear, "You're soaked, pretty girl. You're eager for my cock, huh?"

Wanda nodded, since she could barely speak, whimpering out a choked syllable that sounded like "yes." Her hips were already bucking up to meet their cock, and they hadn't even entered her yet. 

Natasha giggled at the sight, one of her hands reaching down to feel Wanda's folds. She let out a gasp of faux surprise as she felt the extent of Wanda's arousal, immediately coating her fingers. The redhead's voice was sexily condescending as she spoke, "Oh, my. She's practically begging you for it. You wouldn't let a girl this needy stay empty, would you, daddy?"

Y/N growled at the way Natasha teased them, lining up their cock so that the head was notched at Wanda's entrance. Wanda whimpered from just that first initial contact, and let out a scream as they began to push in. They were so thick, she already felt completely stretched just from the tip. "I-is it all in, daddy?" 

Y/N let out a low laugh, and Natasha leaned in, letting out a patronizing cooing sound. She took Wanda's hand in her own, giving Wanda something to squeeze. The older woman kissed Wanda to distract her from the feeling of being stretched and mumbled against her lips, "Not even halfway, sweetie. But you can do it. I know it's a biiiiiig stretch, but you can be a good girl for daddy, right?"

Wanda nodded, squeezing Natasha's hand tightly and leaning into her kisses to help ease the stretch. She looked back up at Y/N, whimpering, "D-don't stop, daddy. I can take it. I promise."

Y/N smirked, continuing to push in, their hands going up to massage Wanda's hips and stomach to further relax her. "Good girl, baby. Just relax. Focus on me and Natty."

Wanda felt Y/N bottom out inside her, a sweet little whimper escaping her lips as their tip bumped against her cervix. Y/N's hand went to gently press down on the outline their cock made in her abdomen, making her squirm even more. Natasha smiled, squeezing Wanda's hand and lathering praise onto her, "There you go, baby. You took it all. We're so proud of you."

Y/N nodded, leaning down to leave some marks on Wanda's neck as they began to deliver just the smallest of thrusts, pulling back ever so slightly before pushing all the way in again. "Mhmmm, you're all full of me now, princess. You're doing such a good job."

Wanda bit her lip, the sensations of Y/N's cock inside her, their frame looming over her, and Natasha's hands beginning to travel along her body all becoming so overwhelming. She let out a wail as Natasha pinched her nipple, looking back up at Y/N as she spoke, '"P-please fuck me, daddy. D-do what you did to Natty. I wanna make you feel good…"

Y/N smirked, their big hands going to Wanda's arms, and slowly pinning them above her head. The girl easily surrendered control, so deep into her submission that she never would have protested. They then began to deliver slightly bigger thrusts, pulling out until only half of their cock was inside her before pushing back in. The longer strokes had Wanda's hips bucking up to meet theirs, mumbling, "Faster, daddy. Please."

Y/N couldn't say no to that needy tone, so they delivered, quickening the pace so that they were now consistently drilling Wanda, the younger woman's eyes rolling back in her head from the sheer pleasure. 

Now that she was all stretched and worked up, Y/N knew they didn't have to hold back anymore. They glanced over at Natasha, who gave them a nod of conformation, and they began to pound into Wanda like they did with the former only minutes ago. 

The fast pace had Wanda moaning and writhing, hands itching to hold onto something, but loving the way Y/N kept her pinned down and dominated. She felt her clit throb whenever Y/N bottomed out, the patch of hair at the base of their cock brushing against it and sending shocks through her. 

Natasha wasn't making it any easier for her, the older woman's touches only made Wanda more sensitive. Her hands were all over Wanda's breasts, kneading them and gently pinching her nipples, earning more whimpers from her. When her hands weren't on her breasts, they were gently, sensually running along her body, heightening every sensation the younger woman was feeling. 

As Y/N continued to fuck her, they felt her pussy clenching more and more, her body tensing up, and her moans getting louder and more frequent. They knew she was close. They looked over at Natasha, murmuring, "Our girl is about to cum. Why don't you help push her over the edge?" 

Natasha smirked, her eyes going from Wanda's needy, glazed over ones to Y/N's devilish ones, murmuring, "It would be my pleasure."

Wanda was an absolute mess, bucking up to meet Y/N's thrusts, tears running down her face, and constantly incoherently babbling things that sounded like "Please" "Daddy" and "Fuck." Natasha knew exactly what would make Wanda cum, just a simple touch. She reached down, gently rubbing slow circles on Wanda's clit, and the response was instantaneous. 

Wanda let out a scream that they were sure was heard throughout the entire avengers compound, her walls clenching hard around Y/N's cock as they fucked her through her orgasm. Her body was trembling, her clit throbbing under Natasha's fingers as she squirted, her juices coating Y/N's cock and Natasha's digits. Red tendrils of magic were even emanating from her hands, a sign that she was feeling one of the most intense sensations she'd ever felt.

Wanda's orgasm sent Y/N over the edge, growling, "Fuck, here it comes!" as they hilted inside her, pushing as deep as possible before letting go, their cum leaking from their cock and coating Wanda's insides. The feeling of their load seeping into her had Wanda wailing, "Daddy!" at that same loud volume, her body clearly overstimulated. 

Y/N and Natasha were gentle with her now. Y/N pulled out slowly, ignoring Wanda's babble that she could take more. They all knew she couldn't. Y/N laid beside her, letting go of her hands and beginning gently massaging her. "Baby, you did so well. You took my cock like an absolute pro."

Natasha went to Wanda's other side, giving her gentle, loving kisses as she praised her, "You looked so beautiful, love. You made us both so proud."

Wanda, for her part, was completely fucked out. Her brain was just now coming back to her; it had been so fuzzy before, and now, she was back in the moment. She nuzzled close to both of them, wanting to feel their bodies against hers in the aftermath of such an intense moment. She sighed, murmuring, "Thank you both. I… I've never felt so good. That was amazing."

Natasha and Y/N exchanged a look, a smirk that confirmed this definitely wasn't just going to be a one time thing. Natasha pressed a kiss over one of the marks Y/N left on Wanda's neck as she said, "You were amazing. Now let's get you cleaned up."

Y/N nodded in agreement, picking Wanda up and carrying her towards the bathroom, the place where this night had started. They sat her down on the edge of the bathtub, running the water as they spoke. "Natty's right. We need to get you all cleaned up. After your training with Steve tomorrow, you better be ready for round two."

Upon moving away for college, the idea of church was a laughable thing to you. You could hardly even remember what the rituals were anymore, or the verses, or the hymns. It wasn’t necessarily a hatred or aversion, but rather a bitter distaste in your mouth when reminded of how indoctrinated you and your whole community were into the church. You just weren’t religious anymore, and you preferred living life that way, though it took years of untying the knots of theological principals and “truths” from your mind.

When you were back in your hometown for a visit, your mother nearly fell over at the sight of the little rainbow bracelet on your wrist. After a very heated conversation where you threw in her face the fact that you had been with multiple women in college, she seemed to give up and leave the conversation alone—until the next morning she asked you to come to church with her.

“Really? You think going to church is going to reverse the way that I was born? You expect me to just pray the gay away?!” you yelled at her, but she was calm. She said that was not her intentions, but rather they were to simply have you come see everyone you grew up around. She said that there was a new pastor there who was younger and could relate better to youth without that kind of feigned wise judgment that the other pastor, a wobbly old man, used.

You fought tooth and nail against your mom in a thirty-minute argument until finally you were just too tired to fight against her anymore. You felt how you did in high school—getting lectured by your mom for skipping church only a single Sunday, being placed under her godly ray of obstinance that so easily drained you until you just couldn’t fight anymore. She forced you to wear one of your church dresses from high school and practically shoved you into the car that Sunday morning. You were just looking forward to the potluck afterward.

As your mom pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, you realized that they had done renovations on the sanctuary since you had been gone. It was bigger now, with huge mosaic windows facing the front and a new pure white cross on top of the spire, making the triangular building look even taller and more pointed than it already was.

“This new pastor a millionaire or something?” you mumbled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“No, she’s just so brilliant and amazing that she’s attracted dozens of new parishioners since she came,” she explained. “You’ll see. She really has a way of connecting with young people, especially young women. I couldn’t tell you how many girls your age have joined in the past year!”

Crinkling your eyebrows, you stepped out of the car and took a breath of fresh air. Even in the parking lot, you could pick up that familiar smell of wood and old books. “The pastor is a woman?” you asked, remembering only male pastors. Although your denomination was open towards female pastors, the general misogyny of your small-town Southern community had always favored men, of course.

“Uh huh,” your mother said as she stepped out of the car and fixed her hair in the wind, walking over to you and gently grabbing your arm suddenly. “Y/n, I should probably let you know… I did call Reverend Maximoff last night and told her a little about your…situation.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her incredulously. “What?!” Had your mother really gone and called the local pastor to tell her that her daughter was gay?

“Look, it’s important for a pastor to know their parishioners’ personal lives in order to truly connect with them. I’m not saying I asked her to… pray the gay away or whatever you said, but I just let her know that you were having some…sexually immoral feelings. She’s helped many young women here with the same problem.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed, jerking your arm away from your hand. An old couple walking by glanced over at you, and you blushed and looked away, speaking quieter. “Why the hell would you tell some woman I don’t even know that I’m having sex with women?!”

“She’s not some woman, she’s an ordained minister of God!” your mother exclaimed. “She’s not going to drag you up in front of the church and hang you, for God’s sake! She was just concerned that you’re not living your life under the guidance of God and would be happy to give you a steering hand, that’s all! She didn’t even say anything about the gay part—just the promiscuity!”

Curse words formed on your lips, but you pursed them together, pushing past your mother and towards the church so you could get this thing over with. “Promiscuity my ass,” you muttered as you burst open the church doors, hit with that familiar old smell. It looked different now that it had been renovated, the ceiling and windows much taller and the carpet redone, but it was the same wooden pews you remembered as a child and the same large altar with a grand piano and steps for the choir.

You looked around at all the familiar townspeople sitting in the pews as the choir, dressed in their robes and holding their hymnals, made their way to the chancel in formation. You realized that your mother was right when she said that the church had grown—all of the pews were jammed full of people, except for a little spot near the front where there was enough room for two people to squeeze in. Feeling aggravated and brash, you stormed to the front and shimmied past the row of people to sit down in the empty spot, your mother scrambling down beside you.

“Please don’t be angry in the house of God,” she began.

You ignored her, looking around and seeing that there were groups of young women your age looking excitedly towards the altar, waiting for the pastor to come out. You assumed maybe the pastor had started a women’s group and was just mentoring the young women.

Reaching forward, you took the hymnal book sitting in the slot behind the pew in front of you, opening up its yellowed pages and flipping through. You could still remember some of the songs, but before you could read one, there was a hushing whisper among the congregation.

Glancing upwards, you saw Reverend Maximoff emanating from behind the altar, glancing out among the ground with a smile as she stepped to the front. You were shocked to see her—she was older than you, but not by too much. She had a youthful smile to her face and twinkling green eyes, her blonde hair cut right to the shoulders of the maroon robe and dark green stole she wore.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, her voice loud and confident. The church crowd silenced and gave their full attention to her. “Today we will start by worshiping the Lord our God with our choir’s beautiful voices, as well as your own.” Her Southern accent was feminine and airy with a cheerful tune to it, as if she was already singing by simply speaking. “Please turn to page 304 in your hymnals and stand to worship the Lord with us.”

The sound of people standing and pages turning filled your ears, and you found yourself flipping to the page and standing up along with everyone else, realizing that your muscle memory was still there. It felt odd being in that place again, viewing the solemnity and respect of religion in a community sense.

The choir started, and then the rest of the church joined in, singing the hymn in unison. You didn’t sing at first, until your mother’s elbow stabbed your ribcage, so you quietly mumbled the words.

Glancing up, you watched Reverend Maximoff singing at her stand, face turned towards the choir and grinning at them as the words formed on her lips. You had to admit that for a pastor, she was beautiful and charming. Her smile was nearly mesmerizing as her head slowly turned towards the congregation in appreciation for their singing, eyes casting over the pews of people until they flickered near you. Realizing that you were staring, you quickly glanced down at the book before she could make eye contact with you. Feeling suddenly nervous, you mindlessly stared at the book until you figured she would be looking somewhere else, looking back up only to find that she was looking right at you.

All you could hear were the choral praises of God as the Reverend’s eyes bore into yours. The smile on her face faded a little, her focus zoning in on you through the crowd. You remembered what your mother had told her about you, the thought bringing a sickly blush of shame to your cheeks. Why was she staring at you? Was she judging you? Thinking about what a dirty sinner you were? You couldn’t take it, but you couldn’t look away either.

Finally, the song ended, and she broke eye contact.

“Thank you so much. You may please be seated.”

The crowd sat down and put their hymnals away as the choir did the same, and once everyone was finally still and quiet, the Reverend opened her Bible and started flipping through pages to find notes for her sermon.

“Today, people, we will be talking about the one thing we think about almost all of the time—our bodies.” Your teeth ached as you braced yourself for whatever religious bullshit was about to be shoved down your throat. “Our bodies—whether it be our health, our appearance, the work we can do with them, what we eat, what we drink—our bodies remain a constant thought in our mind.”

She stepped out from behind the stand, walking to the front steps of the altar and peering out at the crowd with her luring eyes like a bird.

“God tells us in His Word that our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit. You see, we do not own our flesh and blood. Our body is a sacrament to Him in everything we do with it. Our divine purpose on this Earth is to use our bodies the Lord has given us as a vessel for the Spirit, to spread His Holy Word. If our bodies are unholy, or if we use them to transgress against His Word, we are violating His purpose for them.”

As much as you wanted to dissociate and just block out whatever she was saying, a strange curiosity overcame you that kept your eyes trained on her as she stepped down the altar steps to get even closer to the crowd, holding the Bible in her hands.

“There are many ways that we sin with our bodies every day. When your mouth curses, when your hands do not pray to Him, when your feet lead you to unholy places. One of the most extreme ways that we go against the Holy Spirit within us is when we commit the very sin that seems to have a grasp on the youth today—sexual immorality.”

There it was. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath, trying to control the anger within you.

“I want y’all to turn to one of my favorite passages in the Word,” she said, turning to walk towards the other side of the pew as she waited for people to turn to the verse. “1 Corinthians 6:13.”

You wouldn’t dare to pick up a Bible. You crossed your arms and ignored your mother’s urging glances as the Reverend started to read.

“You say, food for the stomach and the stomach for the food, and God will destroy them both. The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the large room. You watched her, her back turned from you, as she paced the other side of the room before turning, walking towards your side of the pew with her eyes trained on the book. “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead, wishing you could escape this cultish experience. Still, you watched her, the way her lips formed the words, the way her face looked pointed down to the book, eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she read the words.

“But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” She turned down the center aisle, and as she got closer to your pew, you started to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Suddenly, her eyes lifted from the pages and pierced you sideways. You felt frozen under her stare as she discreetly eyed you, not even having to look at the page to recite, “Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.”

Her voice was lower now, serious and clear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers as she slowly floated past you, her robe wafting around her ankles. You noticed the way her svelte hands held the Bible, a single digit lifting to flick the page. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on her lips as she finally looked away from you and kept preaching, walking down the aisle.

Finally, you could breathe. Surprise filled you as you realized that you had started sweating—were you really so demonic that you were sweating in the pews of a church? But why did she look right at you as she read that particular verse? Was she targeting you because of what your mother had said?

You could barely listen to the rest of the sermon as she talked about sexual immorality and fleeing from it by turning your mind and body towards the Lord.

At the potluck, you couldn’t help but find your eyes drifting to wherever Reverend Maximoff was in the room. Potlucks were always held in a building connected to the sanctuary where they had special events and meetings. She drifted around the room chatting with different members of the congregation, her eyes somehow always finding yours right as you were looking at her. You would blush and quickly look away, redirecting your focus on what the old lady was talking to you and your mom about.

You didn’t realize that she was waiting for you to be alone. Finally, you left your mom and the lady to go to the table filled with homemade desserts, browsing around for something chocolate.

A hand on your lower back made you gasp and turn. You were shocked to see Reverend Maximoff standing close beside you, still dressed in her robes. “Y/n,” she greeted you with a pearly smile, her earrings dangling from her ears. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mom has talked about you so much since I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” you said with a polite smile. “Has she?”

“Yes,” she smoothly answered, stepping even closer to you. “I’m very glad you came today. I must tell you that the Lord has speaking to my heart about you quite a lot.”

“Oh yea?” you said disinterestedly, more focused on the way her eyes kept darting down your body, trying to pinpoint why she was ogling you.

She tilted her head and closed her smile, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “You know, I was hoping you would have a session with me here sometime, before you go back to college. I would love to talk more with you and get to know you. You were at this church long before I was, and I would love to give you some heavenly advice on whatever is pressing at your heart.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Nothing’s pressing at my heart but my ribcage.”

She giggled, and it surprised you. “No, there’s always something for pretty young women like you.” You flushed a little at her choice of words. “God has a plan for you, y/n, but I get the feeling you may need some guidance to get you there.”

“You get these feelings a lot?” you droned, picking up a brownie from the table and taking a bite, keeping eye contact with her. You weren’t going to let this pastor try to get her godly claws in you.

Her eyes flickered to your mouth as you took a bite of the brownie, her irises darkening. “Come see me after the Wednesday night sermon. Maybe…” She reached forward and took the half-eaten brownie from your hand, her fingers grazing yours. “I can teach you to use your mouth to praise the Lord.”

She put the half of the brownie into her mouth and chewed it with a smirk. Frozen and confused, you stared at her as she put her thumb in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, winking and floating away from you. Your entire body went hot as her words folded over in your mind, as well as the sight of her eating the brownie you had just had between your teeth.

Normally, you would’ve declined any invitation to have personal sessions with a Reverend, but the brief interaction you had with Reverend Maximoff had you offput and curious. Your mother almost cried in relief when you told her that you would be going to the Wednesday night sermon as well as staying behind to speak with the Reverend.

Wednesday’s sermon went the same as Sunday’s. There were less people there that night, naturally, and although Wednesday night sermons were usually shorter than Sunday’s, it seemed like Reverend Maximoff was antsy to be finished with it. She spoke faster with less focus, ending the sermon after only an hour. Your mother excitedly hurried away with the rest of the congregation, and you anxiously stayed in the pew as the Reverend talked with some lingering people until finally she ushered them all out, closing and locking the church doors behind the last person.

You turned your head and watched her as she sighed, holding onto the doors for a moment before turning around to look at you, clasping her hands at her front.

“Y/n,” she began lowly, turning her face down slightly as her eyes trained on you, her feet slowly leading her up the aisle towards you. “I was so glad when I saw you here tonight.”

“Well,” you began, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

It was only partially true. You could have caught up with your old friends or went out to dinner or even just stayed home and watched TV, but something lured you into that church that night, and you felt it had something to do with the way she predatorily eyed you as she neared you.

She said nothing as she came closer, sucking her cheeks as you could see words forming in her brain. “Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” A smirk drew itself on her lips. “Acts 20:28.”

You just raised your eyebrows and nodded impressively. “You have the Bible memorized. Good for you.”

Ignoring your sly comment, she spoke, “It means that, as the Reverend of this church, it is my duty to be a shepherd.”

“That is what the verse says.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, her lips parted at distaste of your attitude. “What did I tell you about your mouth?” she snapped, her voice edged and cutting as it echoed loudly off the walls of the church, reminding you how alone you were with her. You stiffened in the pew.

She neared you, resting a hand on the edge of the pew as she stood before you. “As a shepherd, I must keep watch of my flock. I must be aware of them all the time—their lives, feelings, behaviors, their walk with God.” She paused, her tongue settling over her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Tell me, what path do you walk?”

You blinked, lips opening and closing as you tried to understand what she was asking.

“Do you walk the ways of the wicked? The ways of Satan himself?” Without breaking eye contact, she lowered and sat on the pew beside you. “Does your body sin against the Spirit?”

Looking down, you shook your head and laughed. “I know my mom told you. Believe me when I say I have no inclination to your religion, and I never will. I don’t need to be scrutinized or judged.”

“Your mother was only acting as a shepherd by leading you to me, and I thank her for that,” she remarked, her eyes glancing down at your dress where the ends stopped at your mid-thigh, leaving your legs bare. “I fear you are not treating your body as the temple of God it is. You have tainted it with your sexual proclivities, haven’t you, y/n?”

Your face started to burn at her outright words. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, how do you prefer to use your body? Like a whore? Like a destitute slut?”

Ears burning at the sound of her husky voice, your face burned even hotter. The shock of her words left you speechless and utterly confused as to how a Reverend would speak to someone that way.

“You can tell me, y/n. Only God is watching us.” She reached forward suddenly, placing her hand on your thigh and sliding it upwards. The touch startled you and made you jump to your feet.

She looked up at you with a twisted smirk as you started to tremble with nervousness. “What kind of a Reverend are you?”

“One who will do anything to guide her people to God,” she lilted, standing up and reaching for you again. You backed away, bumping into the wooden back of the pew and circling around it to get away from her. You jumped up the steps of the altar.

“What are you doing?!”

“So Christ himself gave the apostles,” she began in her pastor voice she used during the sermon, circling the pew to saunter towards you again, stalking like a predator, “the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up.” She took a slow step up the altar, grinning devilishly. “Ephesians 4:11-12.” She lowered her chin. “I can help you restore your body’s temple. I can sanctify you, make you whole again in the eyes of the Lord.”

Your heartbeat fluttered at the way she was seductively eyeing you, sauntering up the steps, the sultry and sensual tone in her voice. You let her come near you and place a hand on your waist that made you shiver all over.

Whispering, she said, “As God’s apostle, I offer you a direct line to worship Him and beg for forgiveness.” Her other hand softly cupped your chin, feeling the blushing skin here. Her thumb grazed over your lower lip, her dilated eyes drinking up your mouth like thick wine, and she recited, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.”

The verse burned in your ears—it was one you had memorized for Sunday school so many years ago and somehow still subconsciously remembered. You whispered, “Psalms 141:2.”

Her grin widened. “Good girl.” She licked her lips, thumb still grazing your own. “From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:20-21.”

It became hard to breathe when two of her fingers slipped through your lips and sunk slowly over your tongue.

“What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them. Matthew 15:11,” she recited, her own lips parting in a sigh as she slid her fingers further into your mouth.

A soft noise escaped your throat as you let her feel your mouth, your legs becoming weak. Her grip on your waist tightened when you flicked your tongue between her fingers and closed your lips, sucking dutifully on them. She jutted her lower teeth in desire, stepping so close to you that there was no room to breathe. Your skin felt hot all over, and you became suddenly aware of the cross hanging at the front of the altar, as if it were burning into your back.

The Reverend licked the back of her teeth, eyes trained on her fingers disappearing into your mouth as she whispered, “Shall you use your tongue to praise the Lord our God?”

A dirty sucking sound escaped your mouth as you sucked her fingers, and you were so under her trance, her beautiful green eyes, the way she was so enamored with your mouth, that you eagerly nodded around her fingers.

A half smile curled on her open lips as she slid her fingers out of your mouth, placing a hand on your shoulder and harshly pushing you down. Your knees hit the velvet red steps of the altar as Reverend Maximoff, standing on the step below you, placed one leg on the upper step and started to lift up her robe. You kneeled, watching in all of God’s glory, with the church’s mosaic windows behind her, as the Reverend lifted up her maroon robes and bunched them with one hand at her hips, exposing her bare pussy. With one foot on the step below your knees, and the other foot beside your knees, she tilted open her thigh and placed a hand on the back of your head.

You shivered at the feeling of her fingers in your hair as she pushed your head towards her, bucking her hips. You were filled with pulsing desire as you placed your hands gently on her hips and let her draw your mouth towards her, opening your lips and finding her slick folds. Your tongue ran over her slit, and you moaned at her taste, at how she was so wet that her juices already covered your lips.

Reverend Maximoff sighed, leaning her head back as you found her clit and started to lap at it. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, pushing her hips towards your face as you suckled on her clit.

You could hardly keep up with her as she pushed your head and bucked her hips at the same time, forcing her clit onto your tongue. Your mouth involuntarily closed when one particular thrust of your head was too rough, to which she snapped, “Open your mouth! Proverbs 31:26—She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” Her sentence ended with a piercing moan as you opened your mouth wider for her and let her fuck it as she pleased.

Whining from the force, you furiously tried to pleasure her—as much as you could with the way she was practically pleasuring herself with your mouth like it was a toy. You melted at the sounds of her moans and gasps that echoed in the church, at the way that you were kneeling on the altar with your head between her legs, at the way her hand was tangled in your hair. Her clit tangibly throbbed on your tongue as her hips thrusted harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she screamed as she came, grinding her clit against your tongue and grabbing your hair so hard that your scalp ached. You struggled to breathe, eyes tearing up from the pressure on your face, listening to her catch her breath and loosen her grip on your hair. Finally, she moved away from you, dropping her robe back down her ankles. You were panting, lips puffy and red and covered in her wetness, eyes glistening as you stared up at her, drunk with lust. She grinned, biting her lip. “You serve the Lord well. Come.”

She offered out her hands, and you took them, letting her help you to her feet and guide you to the front pew. She sat down, keeping hold of your hands, and pulled you down so you straddled her lap. She sighed, her eyes looking everywhere at you except your face.

Her fingers crawled to the straps of your dress, slowly tugging them down your bare shoulders. She recited, “How beautiful you are and how pleasing, my love, with your delights.” Her voice was quiet in the silent room, burning at your ears as you tried to stay focused with the taste of her still on your lips. Her eyes sunk down your chest as she started to pull the dress down your breasts. “I said, I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”

She tugged the fabric of your dress over your breasts, exposing them as they bounced over the fabric. Taking a sharp breath, she drew one hand to your tit and squeezed the soft flesh there, earning a gasp from you.

“May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” Her eyes, which were trained on your exposed chest in front of her, flickered up to your face, catching the gloss of her cum on her lips. She raised her other hand and spread her fingers over your lips, smearing the wetness across your mouth. “May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.”

You started to throb at her touches, at her words, at her inebriated eyes. Her hand that groped your breast fell down to your thighs, urging the end of your dress upwards as it slid up your skin.

“Song of Songs 7:6-9,” she whispered with finality as she danced her fingers up your inner thigh, and you watched her hand disappear under your skirt. “Is your body a temple of God, y/n?” she asked you as she parted your panties with her fingers.

You nodded desperately, so turned on by what she had done to your mouth, so dumbed down by the verses and the touches and the taste of her. She bit her lip and moaned as her fingers touched your slick cunt, grazing over your clit before two of them sunk into your hole.

Head falling back, you grabbed at the shoulders of her robe and whined as she plunged her fingers inside you, your wetness already making a dirty squelching noise as she pumped inside of you.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she husked as she wrapped an arm around your hip to steady your bucking motions. “You’ve been a dirty girl, y/n. You’ve used your body to sin against His Word. My hand of God can only do so much—you need to beg for his forgiveness.” An evil smirk lined her lips.

You could barely hear what she was saying as she fucked her fingers into you, your hips moving up and down in desperate search for more of her. She thumbed at your clit as she waited for you to answer, leaning forward to press wet kisses on your nipples that bounced with your motions.

“Please, God,” you began shakily, “Forgive me.”

“That’s not good enough,” she tutted, suddenly pushing a third finger inside you. Your mouth fell open at the stretch and the burst of sensations that exploded when she curled her fingers inside you. “Beg Him. Beg Him to forgive you for being a dirty whore.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed when she bit your nipple, jamming her fingers into you harshly. “P-Please, God,” you began breathlessly, squeezing the Reverend’s shoulders as pressure built inside you. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for?” she urged, biting your other nipple and sucking on it.

You tried to remember exactly what she had said as your orgasm threatened to impend upon you. “F-For, for being a dirty whore!” The sound of your own voice saying those words pushed you over the edge, your inner walls clenching around the Reverend’s fingers. Your hips rocked hard against her hand as she watched in pure desire and delight, grinning when you finally came down from your climax.

You made your way to the kitchen, where your stepmom was putting the finishing touches on two plates of chicken and pasta. You stood there for a moment, admiring the way her nose scrunched up in concentration as she sprinkled parmesan on the pasta. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked, even in her casual clothes, with her hair slightly messy and a thin sheen of sweat on her skin from cooking.

You’d always had a crush on Wanda, despite the fact that she was your stepmom. She was more of a real parent to you than your father ever was and she supported you in everything you did, constantly motivating you to work harder academically. In fact, most of your drive to do well in school stemmed from a craving for her approval, a desire to make her proud of you, and you were okay with that as long as your work was completed on time.

Wanda was always so lovely to you too, complimenting you on your efforts and praising you when you did well, and it never failed to make your heart flutter. You never intended to rely on her as much as you did, nor did you intend to start crushing on her as hard as you were. On top of being a genuinely kind person and an amazing stepmom, she was also stunning.

You were taken aback the first time you met her, mesmerized by alluring green eyes, and you couldn’t help but wonder what a woman like her saw in your father. The fact that she was sweet on you didn’t help your growing feelings for her, and neither did her overly touchy nature. She was constantly finding ways to have her hands on you - whether it was a hand on your back in the kitchen as she spoke to you or a hug that lasted longer than you felt was appropriate - and it drove you crazy.

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t actually want her like that, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny it, especially when your father was always gone on another business trip, leaving you alone with her for weeks at a time.

When Wanda noticed you standing across the room, she looked up with a smile.

“How’s the essay coming along, malysh?” She asked, moving around the kitchen island until she was next to you, her hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s fine, I’m about halfway done I think,” you responded, clearing your throat and trying to ignore the way her soothing touch was setting your nerves alight.

“That’s good, I’m proud of you,” she cooed, her words making you feel warm inside. She often had that effect on you and this was no exception. Her arm reached around you to pull you closer, half hugging you, before she moved away to set the table.

You managed a smile and a “thank you” before you helped her, bringing utensils to where she set the plates down and taking a seat across from her.

“I know you’ve been working so hard on your studies lately, dear, but have you been remembering to rest too?” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow raised as she took in your tired state. You’d been working tirelessly this week due to your finals and you certainly hadn’t been sleeping well. You were hoping that Wanda wouldn’t notice, but she always did.

“I- sort of,” you mumbled, not wanting to lie to her, but also not wanting to disappoint her with the truth.

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Wanda chuckled, steadying her fork so she could cut into her chicken. Luckily, she dropped the subject after that, instead asking you how other aspects of your life had been going and telling you about her week.

The two of you carried on a casual conversation as you ate, and you didn’t hesitate to tell Wanda how amazing her cooking was, to which she responded with an appreciative smile.

A comfortable silence fell over you before Wanda spoke again.

“So, any cute girls in your classes?” She asked curiously, catching you off guard. You immediately felt awkward, unsure of how to discuss your love life with the woman you were crushing on.

“Not really,” you shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

“Hm, that’s surprising,” she commented skeptically.

You quickly corrected yourself. “I mean, there are cute girls, just no one that I’m interested in.”

Wanda nodded in understanding, satisfied with your answer, before standing up to take your plates to the kitchen.

“Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” She asked, placing the plates in the sink. “It’s your turn to pick one.”

You and Wanda had a tradition of watching movies together at least once a week. It usually ended up with you curled into Wanda’s side on the couch, your head on her shoulder and her arm around you as you watched whatever movie had been put on. It was one of your favorite experiences, something you looked forward to every week.

You always cherished your alone time with Wanda, especially your movie nights since it was an excuse to practically cuddle with her and feel close to her, which is why you suddenly felt so bad, knowing that you’d have to turn her down this week.

“I’d love to, but I really need to finish this essay,” you sighed. “It’s due tomorrow night.”

Wanda hid her disappointment behind a supportive smile, stepping towards you. “That’s okay, detka, I know it’s a busy week for you,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We can watch whatever movie you want after your finals, how does that sound?” Her thumb stroked your cheek as she spoke and no matter how often Wanda touched you like this, it never failed to have an effect on you.

“That sounds good,” you responded, almost stuttering. “And thank you for dinner, it was delicious.”

“Of course.” She leaned in to kiss your forehead, before taking a step back to continue cleaning up the kitchen. “I know you have to get back to it, so I’m gonna finish up in here and then I’ll be in my room reading if you need anything, okay?”

You were still reeling from the affection, nodding in acknowledgment and mumbling a “thanks” as you left the kitchen.

“Don’t stay up too late!” You heard Wanda call out as you grabbed your laptop from the living room table. You could only chuckle, knowing you would most likely be up half the night finishing your work.

You made your way to your room and sat at your desk, plugging in your laptop to the charger before trying to focus on writing again. Eventually you found a rhythm, alternating between sharing your thoughts on the topic and citing sources to support your side.

It was late when you finally decided to head to bed, turning off the light and sliding under the covers with a sigh. It seemed you were more tired than you realized, as the feeling of your bed beneath you was a welcome relief.

Finals week hadn’t been easy on you and late nights had become your regular for the past couple of weeks. You were so close to finishing the semester and every time you felt like giving up, you were reminded of why you worked so hard in the first place - Wanda.

You let your mind wander to thoughts of your stepmom, how proud she would be knowing you did well in all of your classes, the praise she would give you and how it would make you feel. You couldn’t wait for your upcoming movie night; you craved the familiar feeling of her body pressed against yours on the couch, the closeness to her that nothing else could compare to.

You only wished you could be even closer to her, often daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss her, to feel your lips against hers, to swallow her sounds as you ran your hands over her body. It felt wrong to want her that way, to lust after someone who was essentially your mother figure, but you couldn’t help it.

You tried to remind yourself that Wanda was married - to your father nonetheless - and that nothing would ever happen between the two of you, but not even the harsh reality of your situation could stop you from wanting her.

You huffed as you rolled over in bed, feeling exhausted but unable to sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of Wanda. You spent so many of your nights thinking of her, wishing you were laid beside her, holding her or being held by her, imagining the cuddles and sleepy kisses the two of you could share if your situation was different.

Some nights the thoughts were innocent, your desire to feel close to her manifesting in those simple fantasies of sharing a bed with her. Other nights, you longed to feel her even closer, shamefully allowing yourself to picture her beneath you, head thrown back and hips bucking as you made her cum for you. You wondered what she looked like when she came, what she sounded like, what she tasted like.

You knew you shouldn’t have these thoughts and the frustration brought on by your relationship to Wanda made you want to cry. It was a constant battle - the shame, the jealousy, the yearning - and it was slowly getting to you.

Just as you were finally starting to drift off to sleep, you heard what sounded like a groan coming from down the hall. You opened your eyes and listened closely, wondering if something was wrong. You figured Wanda would be asleep by now with how late it was, but when you heard another muffled sound through the walls, it was obvious she wasn’t.

Worried she’d hurt herself or needed help, you dragged yourself out of bed and headed down the hall, stopping just outside of her room. The door was slightly ajar and just as you were about to push it all the way open, another sound escaped the woman on the other side and this time it was unmistakable, realization hitting you like a truck.

Those weren’t sounds of pain, they were moans of pleasure. And when you peered through the gap in the doorway, it was confirmed. Wanda was touching herself, one hand beneath her panties, fingers working against herself, the other gripping the bedsheets as she let another breathy moan.

It felt like something you shouldn’t be seeing, but you couldn’t look away. The sight before you was so erotic, so breathtaking; you were entranced as you watched her touch herself, her head thrown back against the pillows, her face scrunched up in pleasure, her hips subtly moving against her hand. Soft, needy moans escaped her parted lips and just hearing her was enough to make you wet.

You knew you should leave, that you should respect her privacy and go back to your room, but the sight of her was hypnotizing. You shifted uncomfortably as you watched her, squeezing your legs together as arousal clouded your judgment. One word uttered by the other woman brought you back to reality.

“Y/N,” Wanda moaned, her breathing uneven as she chased her orgasm.

There was no way you heard that right.

For a second, you thought you’d been caught, that she was calling out your name because she’d seen you standing there. Your blood ran cold and you froze, immediately feeling the shame and embarrassment of being caught watching her masturbate. But Wanda’s gaze never found yours, her eyes remained closed and her hand kept moving under her panties.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so good,” she panted out, curling her fingers inside of herself, her palm nudging her clit with every thrust.

Your mouth fell open when you realized what was happening, blush painting your cheeks and arousal pooling in your lower belly at the thought.

Wanda was thinking about you while touching herself.

It was overwhelming in the best way - the sight of your stepmom bringing herself pleasure, the heavenly moans escaping her as she brought herself closer to the edge, the faint sound of her fucking herself, and god, she sounded so wet. The fact that she was thinking about you while she got off was the cherry on top and you had to stifle a groan at how turned on you were.

You couldn’t believe that Wanda would reciprocate your feelings for her, at least to some extent. You briefly thought that you should pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. You’d always felt bad for lusting after her, for desiring her in ways that were not appropriate for a stepdaughter to feel about her stepmother, but the knowledge that she desired you too filled you with warmth.

You wished you could see her, really see her, without the barrier of clothing in the way. You wanted to see how she fucked herself, wanted to know how many fingers she was using and watch how her pussy stretched around them. You wouldn’t complain though, not when you were already enjoying this so much.

Wanda’s moans rose in pitch, her hips becoming more frantic against her hand, and you knew she was close. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of her falling apart and you fought the urge to touch yourself with her.

With a couple more thrusts of her fingers inside of herself, Wanda was cumming with a series of loud moans, her back arching off the bed, her hips stuttering as she reached her peak.

Watching Wanda cum was better than anything you could’ve imagined, she looked unbelievably sexy falling apart and you committed the sight to memory in case you never got to see it again.

She pulled her fingers out of herself, removing her hand from her panties, and hummed in satisfaction as she caught her breath. You took this as your cue to leave, sneaking quietly down the hall until you were back in your own room.

You found yourself back in bed, unsure of how you were supposed to fall asleep after what you’d just witnessed. You were turned on beyond belief, your mind filled with images of Wanda touching herself. You felt bad for watching, for invading her privacy, but how could you not when she sounded so good moaning your name?

Now that you knew what she sounded like chanting your name as she chased her release, you couldn’t help but imagine being the one fucking her senseless, making her feel so good as you touched her and kissed her everywhere you wanted to.

You groaned as you rolled over; you couldn’t get the image of Wanda masturbating out of your head, but at the same time, you wished the memory would never fade.

You wished you could see it again.

After tossing and turning amidst sinful thoughts of your stepmom, you eventually succumbed to sleep. You woke up to your alarm going off, already feeling the exhaustion from being up so late. It was hard not to just silence your phone and go back to sleep.

Your body protested as you sat up and reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed, getting ready to start your day. You got dressed and brushed your teeth before heading downstairs, hoping a cup or two of coffee would wake you up.

Wanda was in the kitchen when you entered, pouring herself a cup of coffee and making her way to the fridge for creamer. She was wearing a short, lacy nightgown and when she bent down to grab the creamer, you almost choked on air. The thin fabric of her slip left little to the imagination and the view of her ass as she leaned towards the lower shelves of the fridge was almost too much for you.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away as she turned around.

“Good morning, Y/N,” she greeted, smiling at you sweetly as she poured the creamer into her coffee. Wanda was acting completely normal around you, as if she hadn’t been moaning your name into the night less than eight hours ago. You hadn’t considered how awkward being around her would be after the events of the previous night, especially when she didn’t even know you were present for it.

“Good morning,” you responded, avoiding eye contact as you made your way towards the coffee pot.

“How did you sleep, malysh?” Wanda asked, coming over to you to place a hand on your back, rubbing in circles. You nearly shuddered at the feeling of her touching you, but you kept your composure.

“I slept okay,” you answered, and it wasn’t entirely untrue - you didn’t sleep terribly, you just wished you’d slept more. “What about you?”

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter next to you. “You don’t seem like you slept okay. Late night?”

“Sort of,” you responded, trying not to think about why you were up so late.

“Oh detka,” she cooed, stirring her coffee. “I know it’s finals week and you’re working hard, but you need to take care of yourself too.”

While you appreciated how much she cared about you and your wellbeing, you also wanted to laugh at how oblivious she seemed. She had no idea she was the reason you’d barely slept, tossing and turning for hours as vivid images of her touching herself invaded your mind.

You collected your thoughts and looked up at her. “I know, I’m taking care of myself, I promise,” you reassured her, not wanting her to press the matter any further.

“Good,” she purred, gently running her fingers through your hair. Every little thing she did made you melt and you wished it wasn’t so hard to act normal around her, especially now that you knew what she sounded like in the throes of pleasure.

Wanda leaned back, taking a sip of her coffee before walking over to the fridge. “Do you have class today?” She asked casually, as if she hadn’t just made you so flustered.

“Um, no, I just have a final exam this afternoon,” you managed.

“Good luck with your exam, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, grabbing a carton of eggs. “Since it’s this afternoon, does that mean you have time for breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, your response bringing a smile to Wanda’s face.

“Perfect, you enjoy your coffee and I’ll make breakfast for us. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” With that, Wanda began moving around the kitchen, bending over again to look through the cabinet below the stove. You almost groaned at how revealing her slip was and decided to leave the kitchen while you still had your sanity.

You spent some time in the living room drinking your coffee and scrolling through your phone until Wanda called out for you. You joined her at the kitchen island and conversed lightly over breakfast, discussing your busy week and making plans with her for when finals were over. You tried to ignore the way her usual teasing and touchiness was making you feel, instead focusing on how good it felt to be around her, enjoying her company and your conversation.

You were able to keep your mind off the events of the previous night and the awkwardness faded a bit the longer you talked.

Once you finished eating, you helped Wanda with the dishes and then disappeared to your room to study until it was time to head out for your exam. Wanda seemed slightly disappointed that you had to hole yourself up in your room once more to study, and you felt bad for not spending as much time with her this week.

You wanted more than anything to make her proud though, so you dedicated your day to making sure you were prepared for your final. When you left that afternoon, Wanda hugged you and kissed your cheek for good luck, seemingly unaware of how it made your heart flutter.

The exam went well and you felt confident in your final grade, sighing with relief as you took off your coat upon returning home. The house was empty so you assumed Wanda had a late meeting or was out running errands.

You fixed yourself something to eat and headed to your room to work on a project for another class. You lost track of time, immersed in your work, and the only thing that drew your focus away from your laptop was the sound of soft knocking on your door.

The door opened halfway and Wanda peered through, a warm smile on her face as she saw you sitting at your desk.

“Just letting you know I’m home.” She spoke quietly, as if she was trying not to disturb you. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling subtly at the way she cared for you.

“Okay good,” she responded, returning your smile. “I’m gonna shower and call it a night, don’t stay up too late, okay sweetheart?”

“I won’t,” you agreed, and it was true - you were still tired from barely sleeping the night before and you knew you’d be getting under the covers sooner than later.

Wanda said a quick goodnight before closing your door and making her way down the hall.

It was later than you intended to stay up when you finally finished your project, stretching as you stood up from your desk. You changed into comfier clothes and crawled into bed, completely exhausted and ready for sleep to take over.

You thought of Wanda and how much you missed spending more time with her, how pretty she looked making breakfast for you in the kitchen, how her lips felt against your cheek when you left for your exam. You also thought of how cruel it was to want someone so badly and not be able to have them. It was becoming almost embarrassing how much you yearned for her, how desperate you were for someone you knew you’d never have a chance with.

You were right on the cusp between consciousness and sleep when you heard it - a moan.

Not again.

Your eyes shot open and you froze, listening intently. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard another muffled sound through the wall, your core already pulsing at the implication of what was happening.

You were well aware of what she was doing; there was no need for you to investigate, no need to check on her to see if she was okay, but you found yourself sitting up and sliding out of bed regardless.

You crept down the hall, the sounds becoming louder as you approached, and stopped just outside of Wanda’s room. The door was cracked open again and you briefly wondered why Wanda would be so careless, but you were brought back to reality by another heavenly moan escaping the redhead.

Unlike the night before, Wanda wasn’t wearing anything as she touched herself in the center of her bed, lithe fingers parting her folds and rubbing her clit with every stroke through her pussy. She looked so wet and you nearly whimpered at the sight, she had the prettiest pussy you’d ever seen. Her center glistened in the dim light of her room and you wished you could taste her, wanting nothing more than to lap up all the sticky wetness between her thighs.

You had to squint to see her decently - her room was slightly dark, only illuminated by the lamp on her nightstand - but what you could see from your place in the doorway was driving you insane. You watched as Wanda masturbated in her bed mere feet away from you, seemingly unaware that she had an audience.

You nearly drooled when you saw her slide two fingers inside of herself, your mouth falling open at the way her tight pussy stretched around the digits. The moan she let out as she began fucking herself made your core twitch with desire, arousal flooding your senses. You felt drunk off of her, your head fuzzy and eyes full of lust as you stared at the space between her legs, mesmerized by the way she touched herself.

“Oh fuck,” Wanda panted as she sped up her movements, her hips canting up into her hand. It was so erotic to watch her pleasure herself, to see her in such an intimate way. You were so turned on from watching that you knew you’d have to do something about it before you eventually went to sleep, your thighs pressed together to ease the ache between them.

“Y/N, right there,” she cried out, curling her fingers and arching her back as she hit the spot inside of herself that made her legs shake. You could tell she was close and you were nearly trembling in anticipation, eager to see her cum again. She was like a drug and you were addicted.

With a guttural moan, Wanda came, cursing and chanting your name as she fucked herself through it. Her hips bucked unevenly as she rode it out, grinding her clit against her palm with every thrust of her cunt against her hand. She drew it out, milking it for all it was worth, moaning loudly as her pussy clenched around her fingers, coating them in her cum.

Just when you thought you’d never seen anything more attractive in your life, Wanda pulled her fingers out and brought her hand up, taking the wet digits into her mouth and sucking on them, letting out a satisfied groan at her own taste. You bit back a whimper at the sight, not wanting to alert her to your presence.

You were impossibly wet from watching her cum and you shifted uncomfortably on your feet, causing one of the floorboards to creak beneath you. Wanda’s head snapped towards the door and you slipped out of sight, your heart pounding in your chest. You hoped the hallway was dark enough that she didn’t see you, but you couldn’t be sure.

With panic blooming in your chest, you made it back to your own room and closed the door quietly, immediately slipping into bed and closing your eyes, thinking that if you pretended to be asleep, everything would be okay.

Your mind kept you awake for a while longer, filled with the vivid memories of Wanda touching herself, plagued with the anxiety of almost being caught watching her. You didn’t know what you would do if Wanda found out you spied on her while she was touching herself, feeling embarrassed just at the thought of her knowing. You also didn’t know how you would explain your actions without confessing your feelings towards her. You couldn’t stop worrying about whether or not she saw you, whether or not she knew you were there, and you couldn’t stop fantasizing about being the one making her feel good, being the one with your hands on her instead of her own.

Eventually, you fell asleep, your exhaustion finally overtaking your rampant thoughts.

When you woke up, it was still early in the morning - you hadn’t slept well, but at least you hadn’t overslept. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stumbled to the kitchen in search of caffeine, noticing Wanda in the adjacent living room on your way. She was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, reading as she sipped from her mug.

“Morning Wanda,” you greeted, your voice still rough from having just woken up.

Wanda looked up, smiling when she saw you, and saved her page before setting the book down. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said cheerily, standing up and approaching you. She took in your tired state and gave you a knowing look. “How late were you up, malysh?” She teased.

You held back a groan at the question, hoping she wasn’t implying that she knew you were up after seeing you in the hallway. “Pretty late, I did try to go to sleep early though,” you answered truthfully.

Wanda hummed in response before speaking again. “You poor thing. Did something keep you up late?” Your breath hitched upon hearing her words, feeling almost certain that she knew your secret.

“Just stressed about a final project.” You tried to play it off. Maybe she didn’t know, maybe everything was fine and you were on the verge of crumbling for no reason. You figured the best thing you could do was act normal and pray she was as clueless as she’d seemed the day before.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed. “I know this week has been hard on you, but it’ll be over soon and I’m so proud of you.” Your cheeks warmed at her praise as she brought her hand to the side of your neck, tracing your jawline with her thumb.

“Thank you,” you responded, suddenly weak in the knees and certain you were blushing like crazy. You were also taken aback by how quickly you went from feeling anxious to feeling loved and reassured.

“Of course, detka,” she said back, her hand still cradling your neck. For a moment you just stood there like that, Wanda’s hand nearly cupping your cheek as she looked at you adoringly and you struggled to hold eye contact with her. The moment felt so intimate it almost made you shudder.

Just as soon as it started, it ended, with Wanda retracting her hand and stepping to the side of you, making her way towards the kitchen.

“Breakfast?” she asked nonchalantly, as if the two of you hadn’t just shared a moment that made you forget how to breathe.

After the two of you shared breakfast, you went back to studying and finishing up projects for most of the day, only taking breaks to eat, shower, and work out.

That night, despite the guilt and the tension, despite almost being caught, you once again found yourself sneaking down the hall after hearing breathy moans of pleasure from down the hall.

The next few days consisted of the same routine - focusing on your studies throughout the day and losing sleep over Wanda at night - and by the end of the week, you were done with your classes for the semester.

You felt relieved to be done and Wanda was more than proud of you for finishing the year with good grades. She kissed your cheek and told you how proud she was before she left for a work meeting in the morning, leaving you blushing in the living room.

It was your first day of winter break, so you spent it relaxing at home, catching up on shows and texting with your friends. Halfway through the day, you decided to bake cookies for Wanda as a subtle thank you for her constant support.

When Wanda arrived home, it was already dark outside, the chill of the winter air creeping in as she entered the house. She shed her coat and set her purse down, quickly turning her attention towards the kitchen when she noticed you making dinner.

“Hi detka,” she greeted, smiling as she approached the kitchen island, resting her elbows on it as she looked at you.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling back at her before grabbing a handful of chopped vegetables and placing them in a pan on the stove.

You stirred the contents of the pan before turning to face Wanda, who was curiously eyeing the cookies you’d baked earlier. “Oh, um, those are for you,” you said, gesturing towards the cookies.

Wanda almost looked surprised for a moment before a smile graced her features. “How thoughtful,” she commented, reaching for a cookie. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nodded in response, watching her as she carefully took a bite. She practically moaned in satisfaction and you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the familiar sound.

“That’s delicious,” she complimented.

“Thank you,” you choked out, clearing your throat. You turned back around to check on dinner, not wanting Wanda to notice how flustered you’d suddenly become.

“So, now that you’re done with finals, how about that movie night?” Wanda proposed.

“I’d love that,” you answered, looking back over your shoulder at her. “Tonight?”

“Tonight is perfect,” she said, smiling at you in a way that made her nose scrunch up adorably, your heart melting at the sight. “Do you know what movie you want to watch, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yelena’s favorite movie for the holidays is Carol and she told me to watch it, so let’s go with that.”

Wanda smirked to herself before responding. “Sounds like a plan. We can watch it after dinner.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod, turning back around to finish cooking.

When dinner was finally ready, the two of you ate together at the table. Wanda asked how your day went and continued to praise you for doing so well in your classes, causing you to blush as you focused on your food, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She talked about work and how her week went, and she made sure to comment on how much she’d missed your company recently. Apparently it had been a stressful week for her and you briefly wondered if that had anything to do with her seeking relief every night. You cursed yourself for thinking of that now, certain your cheeks were even redder than before.

When you were finished eating, you took care of the dishes and she thanked you for being so sweet to her before heading to the living room to queue up the movie.

You cleaned up quickly, eager to spend more time with Wanda, and made your way to the living room, two glasses of wine in hand.

“Thank you, detka, you’re so good to me,” Wanda cooed, smiling as you handed her one of the glasses.

“Of course.” You joined her on the couch, your bodies mere inches apart as you settled in beside her.

“Ready?” She asked, sipping her wine as she reached for the remote.

“Yeah,” you replied.

Wanda smiled and pressed play, leaning back into the couch as the movie began. She seemed to have scooted closer to you in the process, your legs now touching.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the movie revolved around an age gap relationship between two women and you wished you hadn’t chosen one of Yelena’s recommendations to watch with your stepmom, who you secretly had a huge crush on. You definitely should’ve done some research before suggesting to watch it, but you couldn’t go back on it now, no matter how awkward you suddenly felt or how tense the air around you had become.

At one point, Wanda rested her hand on your thigh, her thumb idly rubbing circles on the fabric of your pants, and you tried not to squirm. Between the plot of the movie and the way Wanda was touching you, you started to feel warm and slightly uncomfortable in your spot on the couch. You’d already finished off your glass of wine, hoping that the tipsy feeling would relax you a little bit, but it only made you feel hotter.

It wasn’t until a sex scene came on that Wanda spoke up, noticing you shifting beside her. “You okay, sweetheart?” She asked, checking in with faux concern, her sly smirk going unnoticed by you.

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice coming out breathier than you would’ve liked.

Wanda took the last sip of her wine, setting the glass on the coffee table. “Have you ever done anything like that?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting Wanda to be asking you about your sex life. You sat there dumbly for a moment before Wanda turned to look at you curiously, waiting for a response.

“I- not really,” you answered honestly, feeling your cheeks heat up under her gaze.

“Hmm,” Wanda mused, contemplating her next words. “Do you think about it?”

You were once again surprised by her boldness. It took you a few seconds to say something back, your mind a little fuzzy from the wine and clouded with thoughts of all the things you wanted to do with Wanda.

“Um, yeah, I suppose.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but the way Wanda was questioning you had you feeling simultaneously embarrassed and also strangely aroused.

“Is that what you think about when you think of me?” Wanda asked, smiling far too innocently.

You almost choked upon hearing her words. She couldn’t possibly know how you felt about her, could she? You felt panic rise in your chest, unsure of how to respond to her question.

“I- what do you mean?” You stuttered out, looking anywhere but directly at her.

Wanda didn’t miss a beat. “I think you know exactly what I mean, detka,” she said, her sultry tone turning you on despite how confused and anxious you felt. “I know you’ve been watching me,” she spoke again, leaning in and resting her arm on the back of the couch, her body angled towards yours. Her confession made you look up at her, worry spread across your features as she smirked. “Did you like what you saw?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you froze in place. How did she know? How much had she seen? How long has she known? So many questions swirled around in your mind as she waited patiently for you to respond. You broke eye contact, unable to look her in the eyes as you lied to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried, a futile attempt to save yourself from the humiliation of her knowing.

“Oh sweetheart, we’re way past lying,” Wanda cooed, letting her hand come up to brush your hair behind your ear. “You know, it’s not proper to watch someone when they’re having some alone time.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, shame washing over you as she spoke. “It’s a good thing I knew you were there, hm? I mean, why else would I leave the door open every night?”

You snapped your head to look at her, shock evident on your face, and Wanda bit back a chuckle at your reaction.

“You- you wanted me to see?” You whispered, your brain working overtime to process the new information. You were having a hard time grasping the concept that Wanda even knew you watched her; the fact that she had always intended for you to watch her was too much to wrap your head around.

Was it possible that Wanda really did reciprocate your feelings for her? You’d never let yourself consider it, but in some ways it did make sense. She was always so sweet and overly touchy with you, but you’d never let yourself believe that it was because she felt something for you. But then you thought back to those nights, hearing her moan your name while she touched herself, and it clicked. She did want you, just as you wanted her, and the thought made you feel like your skin was on fire.

Wanda nodded, biting her lip. “The first night wasn’t on purpose,” she explained, looking back and forth between your eyes as she spoke. “But when I realized I had an audience, well…” she trailed off, smirking. “I guess you did like what you saw, hm?” She leaned in closer, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Because you kept coming back every single night to watch mommy get herself off.”

You groaned at her words and the arousal that shot through you as she said them. You fought the urge to squeeze your legs together, your core pulsing from her teasing. The name she used for herself wasn’t helping either - you weren’t expecting it, nor were you expecting the way it would make you feel.

You felt more than saw Wanda’s smirk at your reaction. “What did you like the most?” She asked, trailing featherlight kisses down your neck. “Was it the sight of me with my legs spread, my fingers working between my thighs? Or did you get off on my sounds, the way I moaned your name as I made myself feel good? Maybe it was seeing me cum, watching me fall apart on my own fingers - maybe that’s what did it for you.”

Her words were turning you on to no end and you had to hold back a whimper at how desperate you were becoming for her. You tried to nod in agreement, your breathing labored as she continued her ministrations on your neck.

“Use your words, detka,” she demanded, before sucking on your pulse point and making you shiver.

“Yes, all of it, fuck, Wanda,” you managed breathily, one hand coming up to her hair to keep her in place. She sighed against your skin, pulling back to take in the sight of you. Your eyes opened slowly and she took pride in how glossy they were, your pupils dark with desire. You already looked ruined and she’d barely done anything yet.

Her gaze flicked down to your lips briefly and your breath caught in your throat at the action. She cupped your cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you breathed out, no longer worried about her knowing how badly you wanted her.

She smiled before leaning in, so slowly that the anticipation was almost painful. Although tempted to just close the distance, you didn’t dare move, practically shaking at the first brush of her lips against yours.

Kissing Wanda was everything and nothing like what you’d expected. Her lips were impossibly soft as they moved hesitantly against your own and it made you feel warm all over. The kiss wasn’t rough or desperate; it was tender in a way you never could’ve imagined and you could already feel yourself getting lost in it.

When Wanda deepened the kiss, you couldn’t hold back a moan. You felt her smile against your lips before kissing you harder, letting her tongue slip into your mouth. You whimpered at the feeling of her tongue against yours; it was all so hot and you knew if she touched you in that moment, you’d be wet for her.

Without breaking the kiss, Wanda moved so she was laying back against the couch, pulling you with her so you were on top of her, straddling her lap. One hand rested on the back of your neck, keeping you close, the other gripping your hip, her thumb rubbing small circles into your skin where your shirt had ridden up.

You cupped her cheek as you kissed her with more fervor, relishing in the feeling of being this close to her.

When she finally broke the kiss to catch her breath, you didn’t hesitate to move your lips to her jaw, kissing her skin as you made your way to her neck. Feeling your warm breath and eager mouth against her neck made her sigh beneath you, a breathy moan escaping her parted lips when you softly nipped at her pulse point. The sound went straight to your core and the fact that you’d been the one to make her moan this time was intoxicating in the best way - you needed to hear more.

You brought one of your hands to the hem of her shirt, teasing the skin underneath as you pulled away to look up at her. “Is this okay?” You asked, your voice shaky from nerves and arousal.

Wanda nodded beneath you and you slid your hand higher until you felt the lace of her bra against your fingertips. Wanda gasped when you cupped her covered breast and squeezed lightly, running your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. “Good girl,” she praised, her words sending a jolt of arousal through your body. She looked at you with darkened eyes and parted lips, the pure desire in her gaze almost too much for you to handle.

You brought your other hand to her chest and teased her through the fabric of her bra, soaking in all her cute little reactions to your touch, until she stopped you, pulling your hands out from under her shirt. You almost wondered if you’d done something wrong, but then she was reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling the garment off. Her bra soon followed, leaving her bare, and you gawked at the sight of her topless beneath you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, feeling even more turned on. You practically drooled at the sight of her full breasts on display for you, her nipples hard from your teasing. She was absolutely perfect and you couldn’t wait to see all of her, to touch her everywhere, to worship her body the way you’d always dreamed about.

“You like what you see?” Wanda teased, already knowing the answer. Her cockiness only made you more aroused as you nodded dumbly. “Go ahead baby,” she encouraged. “Show me what you’ve always wanted to do to me.”

Her words emboldened you and you removed your own shirt before leaning in, capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Wanda moaned at the first touch of your tongue against her sensitive nipple, her hand coming up to the back of your head to keep you there, fingers tangling in your hair. You let your tongue caress the hardened bud, alternating between licking and sucking, drawing out more gasps and sighs from the woman beneath you.

Your hand came up to give attention to her other breast, rubbing and pinching at her stiff nipple until her breathing was labored and her hips were bucking up into you. You switched sides and continued worshipping her breasts, humming against her skin as you got lost in the way she felt underneath you.

“Fuck, Y/N, wait,” Wanda said, pulling you back from her chest and snapping you out of your haze. You looked up at her, partially worried she was going to tell you to stop entirely, but the next words from her mouth made your whole body tingle with excitement. “Take me to bed.”

The walk down the hallway was a blur, your mind still fuzzy as you stepped into her bedroom, her hand in yours keeping you grounded. She led you to her bed and crawled atop the sheets, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you on top of her once more.

She kissed you again, this time with more fervor. The addictive feeling of her lips on yours made your heart race and your underwear impossibly wetter. You kissed her back with just as much desperation, moaning against her lips when her tongue slid into your mouth. Her lips curled at that and you almost felt embarrassed, but at the same time it was turning you on even more.

Without breaking the kiss, Wanda grabbed your hand and guided it lower, not stopping until it was resting on the button of her jeans. You pulled back to take a breath and couldn’t help but admire how she looked with blown-out pupils and kiss-swollen lips.

Sensing that you were waiting for permission, Wanda broke the heated silence first. “Take them off,” she demanded, her raspy voice going straight to your core.

You bit your lip, nodding, before obeying. Her jeans came off easily and you paused for a moment to take in the sight of her. Wanda was both flattered and aroused by the way you looked at her, like you wanted to do unspeakable things to her.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and pushed them down slowly, teasing you. She spread her legs and watched your reaction, amused at how desperate you looked for her in that moment, your eyes glued to her pussy.

You stared longingly at her glistening sex, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in it and taste her for hours. You hardly noticed when Wanda’s fingers hooked into your belt loop, tugging lightly. “Take these off too, detka.”

Her words snapped you out of your haze and you were quick to oblige, awkwardly removing your jeans and kicking them off to the floor while she watched.

When you climbed on top of her again, kissing her with more desire than she was prepared for, she absentmindedly brought her thigh up between your legs. She gasped into the kiss when she felt how wet you were through your panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” she groaned, pecking your lips. “Did mommy make you this wet, sweetheart?”

You whined out of embarrassment, but the way she was speaking to you made you feel like you were on fire and you didn’t want it to stop. “Yes,” you murmured, feeling exposed.

“Yes what?” Wanda raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes mommy,” you responded, giving her exactly what she wanted.

“Good girl,” she praised and you had to bite back a groan at her words. “I bet you get all wet when you watch me touch myself too, huh?”

“Yes mommy,” you answered, blushing, still feeling slightly humiliated that she knew how deeply desperate you were for her.

“Poor baby, it must’ve been so hard for you to see me like that and not be able to do anything about it, hm?” Her words were laced with faux sympathy and for some reason, it was incredibly hot. You pouted in response. “You have me now. What do you want to do to me?”

You were hesitant to tell her what you wanted, feeling shy at the thought of revealing what you’ve always imagined doing to her, but the way she was looking at you expectantly made you swallow your nerves. “I wanna taste you so bad,” you mumbled, your voice low.

“Yeah? You wanna taste mommy?” She repeated your words back to you and you could feel the heat in your cheeks from her teasing.

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Oh, those manners,” Wanda purred, cupping your cheek. She leaned back against the pillows and spread her legs again, enjoying the way your eyes fell to the space between her thighs. “Go ahead baby, eat mommy’s pussy.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening - you were about to sleep with Wanda and she was encouraging you to taste her the way you could only dream about until now. You’d never done anything like this with anyone, but you were more excited and aroused than nervous at this point.

You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her thigh, before slowly making your way to where she wanted you most. You left open-mouthed kisses along the way, worshipping every inch of her skin. You could smell her arousal and it made you feel dizzy with lust; you couldn’t wait to taste her, eager to feel her cumming in your mouth.

You looked up at her once more, seeing nothing but desire in her gaze. Just as she was about to speak, to tell you to stop teasing, you dove in, licking a long stripe up her pussy, collecting her arousal on your tongue. You moaned at the taste of her, the way her soft folds felt under your tongue, the way she was dripping for you, and she gasped at the feeling of your hot mouth on her sensitive cunt.

When you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked, Wanda couldn’t hold back a loud moan, her hips bucking slightly from the sudden stimulation. You alternated between sucking on her clit and flicking your tongue over it, drawing out more delicious moans from the woman beneath you. You could’ve gotten off on her sounds alone, but you nearly came right then and there when you looked up and saw her face contorted in pleasure, her eyebrows scrunched up and her lips parted as she panted beneath you.

She smiled when you made eye contact with her, humming in pleasure as you ran your tongue over her clit once more. “Mmm, fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart, so good for mommy,” she managed, the praise only making you more needy.

You doubled down on your efforts, determined to make her come undone. You groaned when Wanda began grinding her pussy into your mouth, her hips unable to stay still. She was practically fucking your face and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You already knew that watching her take her pleasure was enough to ruin you, but this was something else entirely.

You moaned into her pussy when she gripped your hair, not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough to guide your movements, and continued the rhythm of her hips as she chased her orgasm. She looked so sexy getting lost in her pleasure and you couldn’t help but feel close to your own orgasm at the sight.

She tasted so fucking good too and despite the subtle ache in your jaw, you wanted to stay like this forever, trapped between her strong thighs as you lapped at her dripping cunt.

“Fuck, I’m so close, you’re doing so good,” she moaned, her voice breathy and higher in pitch. Her clit throbbed under your tongue as she approached the edge, her legs shaking around your head.

With one final swipe of your tongue, Wanda reached her peak, her back arching as waves of pleasure racked her body.

Pushing her over the edge only made you fall apart with her, a guttural moan leaving your lips as the coil within you snapped. It was short but intense and you could only grip Wanda’s thighs harshly as you rode it out.

Her hips continued to grind against your mouth and you didn’t stop eating her out, desperate to keep having her like this. You eagerly lapped up her wetness, groaning at the taste of her cum as she moaned and writhed beneath you.

You helped her ride out the aftershocks, keeping your mouth on her as long as you could. Even as she was coming down from her orgasm, you didn’t stop running your tongue through her, leaving tender kisses along the reddened skin of her overstimulated cunt.

Wanda’s grip on your hair loosened as she caught her breath, her hips jerking a little when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. She ran her fingers through your hair softly, looking down at you between her legs with lust and adoration in her eyes. “Come here,” she beckoned, smiling when you reluctantly pulled away from her center and crawled up to meet her at the head of the bed.

She leaned in to kiss you hard, letting her tongue swipe into your mouth and humming at the taste of herself. You kissed her back desperately, hungrily, as if having your first taste of her only made you want more - which was true.

She finally broke the kiss, panting, and cradled your face in her hand. “You did so good for your first time, detka,” she praised, leaning forward to whisper her next words in your ear. “You made mommy cum so hard.”

A subtle whimper escaped you at her words and she smirked. “So cute like this, all desperate for me.” She bit her lip as she admired how ruined you looked for her. “What do you need, baby?”

“Can you go again?” You blurted out, trying not to feel embarrassed at how eager you sounded.

Wanda’s eyes widened the slightest bit at your question, not expecting you to already want to make her cum again, especially when you hadn’t been taken care of. “What about you?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “I- um, I already…” You trailed off, feeling embarrassed.

Wanda’s eyes lit up with realization and you wished you could hide from her when you noticed her lips curling into a cocky smile. “Yeah? You came just from eating mommy out?” You nodded almost shamefully, your breath catching in your throat when Wanda leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Any embarrassment you felt in that moment quickly dissipated. Wanda loved the effect she had on you and the fact that she found it attractive only made you more confident in your desire for her.

Before you could formulate a response, her mouth was on yours again, kissing you ravenously and without restraint. You kissed her back with just as much passion, certain that nothing in life would ever feel as good as being with her like this.

Your thigh came up between her legs, pressing against her center, and she gasped into the kiss. The feeling of her soaked cunt against your bare skin made your head spin and you broke the kiss to mumble against her lips. “Sit on my face.” It was less of a demand and more of a request, your eyes pleading as you looked into hers. “Please.”

“So fucking eager,” Wanda said with amazement, the words breathy as she spoke them.

She quickly flipped your positions so that she was on top, her soft thighs straddling your midsection, her wet pussy grazing your bare stomach as she helped you get comfortable against the pillows. You reached for the backs of her thighs, encouraging her to come closer.

Soon her thighs were on either side of your head and you were practically buzzing with excitement for what was to come.

“Tap my thigh three times if you need to stop.” Those were the last words you heard before she lowered her pussy onto your mouth with a moan of satisfaction.

Wanda came several more times before the night was over. She guided you on how she liked to be touched and you were more than happy to do whatever she wanted. You fell apart once more on her thigh while you fucked her with your fingers, getting off on her moans and the way she looked in the throes of pleasure.

Wanda’s body practically melted into the mattress after her final orgasm of the night, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Once she recovered, she didn’t hesitate to cuddle up next to you, holding you close.

If you weren’t so tired, you would’ve asked her what this meant to her. Your feelings ran deeper than just sex, but you weren’t sure if hers did too. You tried not to worry about it, instead focusing on the way her body felt against yours, her soft breaths tickling your neck as she rested. You eventually drifted off to sleep, surrounded by her warmth and her scent.