wanda m.

series.

Wanda Maximoff “PRAYERS IN THE FORBIDDEN ALTAR”

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

oneshots.

Wanda Maximoff

"PRAYER SESSIONS" (18+)

“PRAYERS AT THE FORBIDDEN ALTAR” series.

CHAPTER FOUR: NEW EYES

chapter three here

Wanda's words hung in the air, warm and enveloping, making my cheeks burn even hotter. I could barely meet her eyes, my heart thumping so loud I'm sure she could hear it. “Th-thank you, Wanda” I stammer. After what felt like forever but was probably only seconds, she eased back just enough to look down at me, her hand still cupping my cheek. “I should drive you home again, sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and reassuring. As we turned to leave the room, her hand rests lightly on my lower back, fingers splaying warm through the fabric of my shirt, guiding me with that subtle possessiveness that makes my stomach flutter.

The car ride started easy, the engine humming softly as we pulled away from the church. Wanda glanced over with a smile, her hands steady on the wheel. “Tell me about your classes, Y/N. How's college treating you? Any hobbies keeping you busy outside of studies?”

I fidget with the hem of my baggy shirt, staring out the window at the passing trees. “It's... okay. Only online on Thursdays and Fridays, just three hours each. I go in once a week for about two hours, I have a friend who lives in the dorms but, I don't hang out much, once in a blue moon I guess; I like writing sometimes, or reading quiet books. Nothing exciting.”

She nods, her tone is light but curious. “writing sounds lovely. You must have such a creative side hidden away.” The conversation drifts naturally, her questions pulling me in bit by bit. “What about your dreams, though? What makes you feel truly safe in this big world?”

I hesitated, my fingers twisting in my lap. “I guess... being around people who get me. Which is really only my one friend, my parents... and you..” i trail off before continuing, “college can feel lonely sometimes, like I'm just floating through.”

Wanda's expression softens, and she reaches over with her free hand, brushing my arm lightly. The touch lingers a second longer than before, her fingertips warm against my skin, sending a spark of heat up my arm. “I know that feeling all too well,” she says, her voice turning vulnerable as she steered us down the familiar neighborhood street. “When I was your age—well, a bit younger, really—I was so shy and quiet, much like you. I kept to myself, afraid to speak up in groups or share what was in my heart. But faith... it was my anchor. Praying alone, or with someone who listened without judgment, helped me open up. It made me feel seen, safe enough to bloom.” Her hand brushs my knee this time, resting there briefly before pulling away, the heat from her palm seeping through my jeans, making me hyper-aware of every inch between us.

By the time we pulled into her driveway, my skin tingles from those fleeting contacts, my mind replays the warmth of her touches. I tried to walk over to my yard, but Wanda stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist. “Wait, instead of rushing off, why don't you come over for a simple lunch or tea? We can chat more without the hurry of the sessions—just you and me.” She says in her sweet voice, with a smile that makes me instantly cave in. I nod, my throat tight with nerves and excitement. “I'd like that.”

Then she leads me inside, my heart racing. Wanda looks at me with a bright smile before she leads me to her cozy kitchen. The space is warm and inviting, sunlight streaming through lace curtains onto wooden counters cluttered with fresh herbs and baking trays. She bustles around in a simple apron over her shirt and jeans, the clothes hugging her figure as she moves—slicing homemade lemon bread, arranging cookies on a plate, and pouring me a glass of cool water with a slice of cucumber floating in it.

“Sit, sweet girl,” she says, setting everything on the small table. We eat slowly, the treats sweet and crumbly on my tongue, her presence making the room feel even cozier. As I nibble, her eyes roamed over me appreciatively. “That shirt looks so cute on you. You look so small and adorable in these baggy clothes—they swallow you up.”

I blush, lowering my gaze to look at what im eating to try and calm my heart. “Thanks... it's comfy...”

She reached across, her fingers grazing mine. “You've had a long morning. Let me help you relax with a shoulder rub. Come here.”

I stand up, my back to her as she moves and stands behind me. Her hands settled on my shoulders, warm and firm, thumbs pressing into the knots along my muscles. She kneads slowly, working out the tension with deliberate strokes, her breathing close to my ear—soft exhales that sent shivers down my spine. “Let go, I've got you, sweetheart” she whispers, her voice a soothing murmur, lips brushing my ear.

The sensation built, her touch turning sensual, fingers tracing the line of my neck, easing deeper into the tightness. I sighed involuntarily, leaning back into her. But then, as her hands paused, I let a hint of my inner world slip. “College makes me feel different sometimes. Like I don't quite fit, you know? Lonely, even with people around.”

Wanda's hands stilled, then she moves around to face me, cupping my face in her palms, her thumbs stroking my cheeks with fierce protectiveness. “Oh, my sweet one, you're perfect just as you are. Let me show you how special you are.” Her eyes locked on mine, full of warmth and something deeper, and she leaned in. Her lips brushed mine softly at first, a reassuring press that made my breath catch. When I don't pull away, it deepens—her mouth moving gently against mine, warm and inviting. I melt into it, my hands clutching her waist, feeling the soft give of her body under my fingers. The kiss lasted a good minute, slow and exploratory, her tongue teasing the seam of my lips before retreating, leaving me dizzy.

She pulled back slowly, smiling as she presses her forehead against mine, our breaths mingling. “I've been wanting to kiss you for a while now, Y/N. You have no idea how much. Needing your help was just an excuse to be close to you, and to make sure you really felt the same way.” Her hands stay touchy, one sliding to the nape of my neck, the other tracing my arm. “Would you like to come over and kiss me sometimes? Just us?”

I nod shyly, my voice a whisper. “Y-yes...” I agree knowing I can't pass that up, even if I'm nervous.

Wanda's smile widened, and she peppers soft, gentle kisses across my face—my forehead, cheeks, the corner of my mouth—each one lingering tenderly. Then she nuzzled her nose against mine, her breath warm. “Can you just come over tomorrow? We can skip the prayer session and spend time together before your parents get home.”

I agree, my hands shakily holding her waist now, fingers pressing tentatively into her sides. She cooed softly at the touch, looking deep into my eyes with a sensual yet still motherly gaze. “That's it, my brave girl. I'll teach you everything—show you how to gain more confidence with me. You'll feel so safe.”

She guides me to the living room, sinking onto the couch with a graceful motion. “Come sit on my lap, Y/N.”

I flushed deep red, hesitating. “H-how...?”

With a reassuring smile, she pats her thighs. “Right here, sweet girl—straddle me.” My heart races as I climb on carefully, holding my weight up with my knees on the couch cushions, my hands braced on her shoulders. Wanda's hands find my hips, gripping gently but firmly. “Relax for me,” she says softly, her tone motherly and coaxing. “Sit on my lap, full weight. I've got you.”

I lower slowly, settling against her, feeling the warmth of her thighs beneath me. “Good girl” She murmurs before she looked up into my eyes with a new expression—desire flickering alongside that maternal care, her hands stroking my sides. “You make me want certain things, Y/N. You make me want to do certain things to you, too.”

I blush hard, my voice trembling. “Like what?”

Wanda's gaze softens, her fingers stilling on my hips. “Before I say more, I need to know it's okay, that you want this too. If you say no, I'll respect it completely and step back—we can set boundaries right here. And please, all I ask is that you don't tell anyone about this, about us. It's our secret.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding, but nod, consenting with a shy whisper. “Yes...”

“PRAYERS AT THE FORBIDDEN ALTAR” series.

CHAPTER THREE: THE NEXT MORNING

chapter two here

The next morning comes quicker than I expect, the sunlight filters through my curtains. I barely got any sleep last night, from my mind replaying the night with her—the shared smoke, Wanda’s soft words, her lingering gaze. By the time I'm dressed in my usual jeans and a baggy t-shirt, there's a knock at the door; Soft, but insistent. I open it to find Wanda standing there, her smile bright as ever, dressed up in burgundy blouse, medium-wash denim jeans and with some simple sneakers. Her hair is soft, light blonde, cut just above her shoulders in a bob. “Morning, sweetheart. Ready for our session? I’ll walk you to the car.”

My parents are already at work, so it's just us. I nod, then grab my bag, and follow her out. The air is crisp, birds chirp in the trees that hang in the trees around us. As we reach her car she glances at me. “How about we get some coffee on the way? My treat.”

“I can pay for mine,” I protest lightly, fumbling for my wallet as we slide into the seats.

She waves it off with a chuckle, starting the engine. “Nonsense. Let me spoil you a little. You deserve it after coming so faithfully.” Her hand brushes my knee briefly as she shifts gears, her touch casual but it sends a spark up my leg. At the drive-thru, she orders two larges—black for her, latte for me—and hands over her card before I can argue. “Sorry hun, Driver chooses.” She jokes before passing me my cup, our fingers linger a second too long, her eyes twinkling.

We pull into the church lot early, the building is quiet except for the distant hum of the AC. Inside the small upstairs room we use for the sessions, sunlight streams through the windows onto the folding chairs and table with Bibles stacked neatly. Wanda sets her coffee down and starts arranging the chairs in a circle, chatting easily as I help.

“So, how’d you sleep after our little talk last night?” she asks, her voice warm, Southern lilt drawing out the words.

I feel my cheeks heat. “Pretty good. The sunset was nice.”

She laughed softly, straightening a chair and bumping her hip against mine playfully. “It was. And the company even better.” Her hand grazed my back as she moved past, fingers trailing lightly—more touch than necessary, but it felt intentional, flirty in that subtle way she had. I busied myself with the Bibles, stacking them, but she kept close, her arm brushing mine, a quick squeeze on my shoulder when I handed her one. “You’re a good at this, Y/N. So helpful.”

As we finished, she turned to me fully, her expression softening. Before I could step back, her hands came up, cupping my cheeks gently, thumbs stroking the skin there. Her touch was warm, enveloping, like a mother’s comfort laced with something deeper.

“Look at you,” she murmured, eyes searching mine. “So grown now, and so beautiful. I’ve watched you become this lovely woman. Makes my heart swell.”

My breath caught, her words wrapping around me. She leaned in slow, her face inches from mine, until our noses just brushed—soft, electric contact that made my pulse thunder. Her breath mingled with mine, eyes half-lidded, the moment stretching taut. Then—footsteps echoing up the stairs. Voices. The door creaked open, and a few early arrivals filed in, chatting about the weather. Wanda pulled back smoothly, her hands dropping, but she gave me a secret smile before turning to greet them. I bolted to my seat, sinking into the chair at the edge of the circle. A deep breath escaped me, one I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, my chest tight with the rush of it all. The group settled—about eight of us today, familiar faces from church—and Wanda took her spot near the front, opening her Bible. We started with the readings, as always. Passages from Corinthians on love and patience, her voice steady and inviting as she read aloud. I tried to focus, but my eyes kept drifting to her—the way her lips moved, the graceful tilt of her head. Then prayer time. Heads bowed, voices murmuring soft pleas and thanks. Everyone else closed their eyes, hands clasped, but I didn't. I watched Wanda, flushed deep, awe settling in my chest like a weight. She was so composed, so radiant, leading with that quiet strength. She finished her prayer first, lifting her head slow. Our gazes locked instantly—hers steady, mine wide. A smile curved her lips, warm and knowing, before her eyes traveled over me, up from my lap to my face, down again, appreciative, lingering just enough to make heat pool in my stomach. I broke away first, staring at my hands, cheeks burning. The session wrapped up with amens and chatter, people gathering their things and filing out with waves and goodbyes. I stayed put, not trusting my legs, avoiding her entirely. Once the room emptied, I stood and started tidying—straightening chairs, collecting stray bulletins, organizing the Bibles into neat piles. Quiet, methodical, anything to keep moving. Footsteps approached soft behind me, and then her hands slid down my arms, warm and firm, turning me gently to face her.

“Y/N,” she said sweetly, grabbing my hands in hers, holding them between us. “Look at me, darlin’.”

I couldn’t resist—my eyes lifted to hers, drawn like always. She held my gaze, squeezing my hands lightly.

“There you are,” she praised, voice soft. “Such a good girl.”

Her thumbs rubbed circles on my knuckles, and she leaned in a fraction, murmuring low, motherly warmth in every word. “You’re so adorable when you get shy and blush like that. And it’s okay if you keep it up—I think it’s sweet. But I’d like you to feel comfortable with me, truly. I really love spending time with you, you make me happy, fill up those quiet days. I’m not so lonely anymore because of it.”

“SECRET WORLD”

Warning(s): SMUT, 18+, Wanda g!p x female reader.

The party's thumping downstairs in the Avengers compound, music vibrating through the floors like a distant heartbeat. Laughter and clinking glasses echo up from the common room where the team's celebrating our latest win. I've only been here a couple weeks, but it feels like a lifetime already—especially with Wanda. She's older than me, towering over me, her presence commanding even in a crowd. We're keeping us hidden, though. No one knows; It's our secret, ours. Wanda's hand brushes mine under the table as Tony Stark saunters over, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, grinning like he owns the night. "Come on, you two! Shots are flowing, and Cap's attempting karaoke. Don't tell me you're bailing early."

I glance at Wanda, her green eyes locking onto mine with that knowing spark. She squeezes my fingers lightly. "We're good, Tony," she says, her voice smooth but firm. "Long day. Need to unwind our way, with some TV and wine."

Tony chuckles, waving it off. "Suit yourselves. More for us." He wanders back to the chaos, and Wanda stands, tugging me up with her. We slip away unnoticed, weaving through the corridors until we reach her bedroom door. She pushes it open, guiding me inside before locking it with a soft click that seals us in our private world. The room's dimly lit, her scent—something warm and spiced—lingering in the air. Wanda turns to me, her chest rising faster now, eyes darkening with hunger. "Sweetheart," she breathes, stepping close, her hands framing my face. "I can't hold back much longer. Seeing you all evening, pretending... I need to you; Now."

Her words send a shiver down my spine, heat pooling between my legs. I nod, breathless, as she rushes to undress me. Her fingers fly over the buttons of my shirt, peeling it off my shoulders, then yanking down my pants and underwear in one swift motion. My skin prickles in the cool air, nipples hardening as she exposes me completely. "Lay on your stomach, baby," she murmurs, voice husky with command. I obey, climbing onto the soft mattress and stretching out face-down, my cheek against the mattress. The sheets feel cool against my bare body. Behind me, I can hear the rustle of fabric—Wanda undressing in a frenzy, her clothes hitting the floor. The bed dips as she climbs on, her strong thighs straddling mine, pinning my legs shut with her weight. I feel her, her hard cock pressing against my ass as she adjusts herself, the tip nudging between my thighs.

She leans over me, lips brushing my ear. "My good girl," she whispers, one hand sliding under my hips to guide her cock to my entrance. She pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching my pussy around her thickness. I gasp at the fullness, the slow burn of her entering me. "That's it, my little girl. Take mommy inside you."

I moan softly, clenching around her as she bottoms out, her hips flush against my ass. "Mommy," I whimper, the word slipping out like a plea.

Wanda starts moving, gentle thrusts that rock me into the bed, her pace deliberate and unhurried. "Good girl, call me mommy," she says, her voice affectionate, laced with need. She kisses the back of my neck, one hand stroking my side. "I've wanted this all night. You feel so perfect, so tight for me... My sweet girl."

Her words wrap around me like warmth, each slow slide of her cock drawing out my pleasure. She keeps it tender, grinding deep but not rushing, her body covering mine protectively. "I want to enjoy you for a moment," she murmurs, nipping my shoulder. "Just like this, slow and close. Your mommy's good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes, mommy," I breathe, pushing back against her slightly, savoring the drag of her inside me. Her free hand tangles in my hair, not pulling, just holding, as she whispers more endearments—her hips rolling in that steady rhythm that builds the tension without breaking it. But eventually, her control frays. Her breaths come out sharper, thrusts deepening. "God, Y/N, I need more," she groans, her weight pressing me fully into the mattress, pinning my arms down with her own before interlocking our hands together; which makes me grunt as she does so. She keeps me still, immobile under her dominance, as her pace quickens. Now she's fucking me harder, slamming into me with force that jolts my whole frame, the bed creaking under us.

"Mommy!" I cry out, the intensity overwhelming, her cock hitting deep with every thrust. She grunts above me, her hips snapping forward, driving me into the sheets. That's my girl," she pants, her voice rough now. "Take it all, you're mine."

The pressure builds fast, coiling tight in my core. Wanda's hand slips between my legs, fingers circling my clit in firm strokes that push me over the edge. I shatter, pussy clenching hard around her as waves of orgasm crash through me. She follows seconds later, burying deep and flooding me with hot cum, her body shuddering against mine. We ride it out together, intense and connected, her groans mixing with my whimpers. She doesn't pull out right away. Instead, she collapses gently over me, cock still buried inside, cockwarming me as our breaths even out. "Stay like this a bit," she says softly, kissing my damp skin. "Feel me in you. Mommy's not done yet." We linger there, her warmth seeping into me, until the ache rebuilds. Wanda shifts, starting to move again, slower at first but building quickly to that same fierce rhythm. Round two is hungrier—she flips me onto my back midway, spreading my legs wide and thrusting in deep, her eyes locked on mine as she calls me "good girl" and "mommy's girl" through gritted teeth. We climb higher, faster, until another shared climax rips through us, her cum mixing with the first load, spilling out around her as she pumps a few more times. Exhausted and sated, Wanda eases out, gathering me in her arms. "Come on, baby," she says tenderly, carrying me to her bathroom. The tub fills with warm water, steam rising as she adds bubbles and her favorite lavender oil. She settles in first, pulling me between her legs, my back to her chest.

"PRAYERS AT THE FORBIDDEN ALTAR" series.

CHAPTER TWO: A DIFFERENT SESSION

chapter one here

WARNING(s): mentions of drug use, smoking, W33D mentions and smoking it.

I step inside, the familiar creak of the front door announcing my arrival. The smell of my Mom’s arroz con pollo waft from the kitchen, making my stomach rumble after the long day. Dad looks up from the table, setting down his newspaper. “There you are, Y/N. Just in time for dinner.”

Mom smiles as she plates the food—steaming rice mixed with tender chicken, and fresh tortillas. We settle around the table, the clink of forks and easy chatter filling the air. It was routine, comforting, like always. “So, how was the prayer session with Wanda?” Mom asks between bites, her eyes curious but not prying.

I shrug, keeping it light. “It was good. We read a couple passages from Psalms—about finding peace in tough times. And something from Proverbs on wisdom. Nothing too heavy.” I didn’t mention the way Wanda’s voice had wrapped around the words, or how her hand had lingered on my shoulder. That stays tucked away, private. Dad nods approvingly. “Sounds like a nice way to spend the afternoon. Wanda’s always been good people.”

We finish up with some talk about my classes, then I help clear the plates before heading upstairs. “Night, guys,” I call out, locking my bedroom door behind me. The click feels like a small barrier against the world. I strip down quick, slipping into my black basketball shorts that hung loose on my hips and a baggy black t-shirt that swallowed my frame. Comfortable, unassuming—just how I like it.

The sun is dipping low, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, so I crack my window open, letting the cool evening breeze drift in. From the drawer in my nightstand, I pull out a joint and my lighter, the routine as familiar as breathing. I lit up, taking a slow drag, the smoke curling out as I lean on the sill. The neighborhood quiets down, the sunset fades into twilight, the first stars start pricking the darkening sky, then the moon rises pale and full.

A soft giggle floats over from next door—no fence dividing our yards, our bedroom windows just a few feet apart, close enough that whispers carried like secrets. I jumped, coughing out a plume of smoke, and fumbled to tuck the joint behind my hand.

“Easy there sweetheart,” Wanda speaks low and hushed just for us, warm and teasing from her open window. She leans out a bit, her hair loose now, framing her face in the dim light from her room. “It’s okay. I’ve known you’ve been smoking for a while. Did a little myself back in high school—thought I was so rebellious.”

My heart races, but her tone is gentle, no judgment, just motherly understanding. I relax, exhaling slowly, the tension eases from my shoulders. “You… you did?”

She chuckles softly, nodding. “Oh, yeah. Hid it from everyone, but it helped with the stress. Lightens the mood, doesn’t it?” Her eyes sparkle in the low light. “Mind if I ask you to pass me a hit?”

I shake my head, then hold it out towards her window. She reaches over, our fingers brush as she takes it, her touch light but electric. She inhaled deeply, holding it in before she blows the smoke away from us, then passes it back. We take turns like that, smoking together.

This time, I turn the questions on her, curiosity bubbling up with my haze. “So, what do you like doing when you’re not at church or with the prayer group? Like, hobbies or anything?”

She leans her elbows on the sill, considering. “Gardening, mostly—it keeps my hands busy. And baking; there’s something soothing about measuring flour and watching dough rise. Favorite things? Fresh coffee in the morning, old records spinning on the player—Johnny Cash, mostly. And quiet evenings like this, talking with someone who listens.”

We fall into small talk after that—about the sermon earlier, her garden’s latest blooms, how college is shaping up for me. The joint burns down slow.

Then her voice softens, a vulnerable touch. “You know, I get quite lonely sometimes. Vision’s always gone with the company, states away half the time. The twins are off with their families… it’s just me rattling around the house. So I appreciate your parents so much—they’re good friends, always have been. And I’m glad I have you too, Y/N. Makes things feel less empty.”

I feel a shy warmth creep up my neck, but I meet her gaze. “Thank you. I… I feel the same. It’s nice having you around.”

She smiles sweetly, tilting her head just slightly, her eyes locking on mine. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

My cheeks flush hot, the word wraps around me like a caress. I nod, the words still caught in my throat.

“PRAYERS IN THE FORBIDDEN ALTAR” series.

CHAPTER ONE: CHURCH SUNDAY

I’ve known Wanda Maximoff since I was twelve, back when my family first started attending the little white church on the corner of our neighborhood. She's always there, with her warm smile and that soft Southern lilt in her voice, greeting everyone like they were long-lost family. Now, at twenty-six, I’m three years in college, this year I'm taking it easier on my classes, taking only four. But Sundays still feel like an anchor—me, Mom, and Dad filing into the pews together. This Sunday morning, the sun filters through the stained-glass windows as we settle into our usual spot near the back. The sermon drags on about faith and community, Pastor Ellis’s voice booms through the microphone. I fidget a little, my mind wanders back to the stack of textbooks waiting at home, but my Mom’s hand on my knee keeps me grounded. When it finally wraps up, the pastor stands in-front, arms wide. “Before we go, let’s take a moment to greet one another, shake hands, share a smile. Build those bonds that make us strong.” People then started milling about, chatter fills the air like a gentle hum.

That’s when I see her—Wanda, gliding through the crowd in a modest long-sleeved burgundy dress that hugs her figure just right, her blonde hair pinned back with a few curls escaping. She was and still is the picture of sweetness, with that motherly glow that makes me feel seen. Our eyes meet and she makes a beeline for us, her smile lighting up like she’s been waiting all morning.

“Y/N hi honey! Oh, hello to you both as well; Isabel, Abraham” she said, pulling Mom into a quick hug first, then Dad. When she turns back to me, her eyes soften even more. “Come here, sweet girl.” She drew me into her embrace, her hand resting lightly on my back, the faint scent of lavender and vanilla wrap around me. I hug her back, feeling my cheeks warm a bit—but she always does this, makes it feel so natural.

She and my parents chat for a minute, Wanda asking Mom about her garden and Dad about his latest fix-it project at home. Then she turns to me, her gaze lingering. “And how’s college treating you, Y/N? Those classes still keeping you on your toes?”

I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets to hide my shyness. “Yeah, it’s busy, but good. Got a paper due next week.”

She beams, like if I had just shared the best news. “That’s my girl. You’re so dedicated—I’m proud of you for pushing through.” Her words land soft, like a compliment wrapped in honey, and I feel a flutter in my chest. I’ve always had a quiet crush on her for years, the kind I bury deep because she’s married, older, and just… Wanda and I'm... me. But moments like this make it hard not to admire her.

“Are y’all staying for the prayer session?” she asks, glancing between us. “It’s just a small group upstairs, some readings and quiet time.”

Mom shakes her head. “Not today, Wanda. We’ve got errands to run.” Dad nods in agreement.

“I’ll stay,” I blurt out, then hesitate, glancing at them. “I mean, if that’s okay. But maybe I should just go with you guys…”

Wanda’s hand bushes my arm gently, reassuringly. “Nonsense, Sweetheart. You’re welcome to join. And since we’re next-door neighbors, I’d be happy to give you a ride home after. Vision’s out of town again—company business in the next state over—so I could use a little help tidying up afterward. The sessions run Monday through Sunday. What do you say?”

My parents exchange a look, then Mom smiles. “That sounds fine by us. Wanda’s right; it’s no trouble.”

I agree immediately, my heart skipping at the thought of more time with her. “Okay, yeah. That works.”

Wanda’s eyes sparkle as she links her arm with mine lightly. “Wonderful. Let’s head up, then.” We say quick goodbyes to my Mom and Dad before she leads me toward the stairs at the back of the church, her steps light and purposeful. “So, tell me more about that paper,” she says as we walk up the stairs, her voice soft and attentive. “What’s it on? You always were a smart one, even when you were little.”

I shrug, keeping my tone polite. “It’s on cultural studies— Eras in history that had influence in modern art. Kinda interesting, actually.”

She nods, seeming genuinely interested. “That sounds fascinating. I bet you’ve got such a unique perspective; it’s going to be brilliant.” Her compliment makes me flush, but I murmur a quiet “Thanks” and keep walking, trying not to overthink about the warmth in her tone.

Upstairs, the room is cozy—a circle of chairs around a low table with Bibles and a few hymnals. Only a handful of others joined us, but Wanda took charge gently anyway, opening with a prayer that felt like a soothing blanket. We read passages together, her voice guiding us through the verses with that kind, smooth motherly cadence. I sit quietly, nodding along, feeling a bit more at ease in her presence.

When it wraps up, the others file out quickly, leaving us to straighten the chairs and gather the books. Alone now, Wanda’s demeanor shifts just a touch—still sweet, but closer. She hands me a stack of hymnals, her fingers brushing mine. “Here, sweet girl, let’s get these shelved.” As I follow her to the cabinet, she places a hand on my lower back, guiding me gently. “You did great today, listening and participating. I’m proud of you.”

My face heats up, a deep flush creeping in, but I manage a soft “Thank you, Wanda,” while stacking the books neatly. I try to focus on the task, keeping my thoughts innocent and polite as always.

She giggles lightly, a sound like tinkling bells. “Oh, you’re too modest. Remember that time when you were twelve and you helped with the church bake sale? Always so helpful..." She pauses as she looks at me with a smile before adding, "Tell me, what’s your favorite thing about college so far? Any fun stories?”

We chat as we work—casual stuff, like my dorm life and her twins who’d moved out with their spouses, leaving the house quiet. She studies me with those warm eyes, asking just enough to draw me out without pushing. “Well, I'm glad you're sticking around.” Her hand ruffles my hair affectionately as she straightens a chair beside me, her touch lingering a second longer than before. I murmur another “Thanks,” my voice barely above a whisper with my cheeks burning. She just smiles, making a little joke about how the room always looks better with my help, keeping the mood light.

Finally, we head out to her car, the afternoon sun is warm on our faces. The drive to our neighborhood is short, filled with easy talk about the sermon and her garden. She pulls into her driveway first—right next to mine—then insists on walking me over. “Can’t have you going in alone, even if it’s just next door,” she says with a wink. At my door, she pulled me into a hug, her arms wrapping around me securely. “Get some rest, sweet girl. I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the prayer session. I’ll pick you up.”

"PRAYER SESSIONS"

A/N: hello! this is my first time writing smut and i wrote this before i came up with a story idea which i will start posting soon. hoping you all enjoy this one.

‼️WARNING(S)‼️: Smut, Wanda G!P with Female Reader.

The group prayer session finally wraps up, and the room hums with that lingering sense of quiet devotion. Bibles lay scattered across the tables, chairs slightly askew from where everyone had knelt or sat. I'm still lingering near the back, fiddling with a few hymnals, when Wanda approaches me. I've known her since I was a teenager, and even now as an adult she always has this effortless poise about her, her blonde hair cascading in loose waves, her smile warm and inviting like she was sharing a secret just for me, but there was something else in her eyes today—for the first time since I've known her, something that made my stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the prayers we'd just offered.

"Sweetheart," she says, her voice carrying that soft, persuasive lilt, like honey. "I could use a hand tidyin' up in here... These Bibles won't put themselves away, and I reckon you'll be perfect for the job."

I nod a-little too quickly, my cheeks already warming up at the way she looks at me. "Sure, I'm happy to help."

She flashes me a grin and moves toward the door, her hips swaying just enough to draw my gaze before I can catch myself; Then with a soft click she turns the lock making the sound echo in the now suddenly intimate space. "Just to keep any stragglers out," she murmurs, her eyes flicking back to mine. "We don't need any interruptions."

We start to organize together; with me stacking the bibles neatly on the shelves while she gathers stray papers from the desk. The room smells like old paper and faint incense, the desk is a sturdy wooden thing pushed up against the wall. Every now and then, our hands brush as we pass items back and forth, and each time, a little spark jumps through me. I try to focus, but Wanda is right there and her presence is filling up the space like she owned it. When I bend down to pick up a fallen bookmark, she steps closer, her hand landing lightly on my arm. "You know, Y/N," she says, her tone shifting to something softer, more probing, "I've noticed the way you watch me during these sessions and during church sermons. Your eyes linger a bit longer than they should."

My face burns instantly, heat flooding from my neck to my ears. I straightened up too fast, clutching the bookmark like a shield. "I—I don't know what you mean," I stammer, but even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds.

She chuckles, low and knowing, and before I can step back, she pulls me into a hug. Her arms wrap around me firmly, her body feels warm against mine. I hug her back, but when she releases me, my blush deepens and it's impossible to hide. Wanda's gaze drops to my cheeks, then back to my eyes. "See? Right there, that pretty flush. It's adorable and it tells me everything."

I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. My heart pounds, a mixture of embarrassment and something twisting in my chest. She's getting closer now, her height making me feel small, enveloped. "Wanda, I..." She gently curs me off as she reaches out and her fingers tilt my chin up so I have no choice but to meet her gaze. Her touch is light, but it sends shivers down my spine. "Hush now, sweet girl. I'm not teasin' to be mean, I'm sayin' this because I see you the same way and I have for a while. That pull? It's mutual." Her words hang in the air, and I feel my breath hitch, feeling both, relief and desire mingled which makes my knees weak. She doesn't wait for me to respond; instead, her hands move to my shoulders, rubbing slow circles that ease the tension even as it builds a new kind. She steps behind me, her taller frame curving over mine like a protective shadow. I can feel the heat of her body as she leans in, her chin rests gently on my shoulder, her breath warm against my ear. "Y/N," she whispers, her voice a husky murmur that vibrates through me, "I dream about you, night after night. I dream of feeling you, fucking you, tasting you and the way your lips will part just like when you're nervous. I love to think of how your body might feel under my hands, how you would feel underneath me. I want to touch you so bad it aches." Her words paint pictures in my mind, vivid and forbidden, and I let out a shaky exhale. Her hands continue their slow massage, thumbs pressing into the knots along my shoulders, but now they trail lower, grazing the sides of my arms. Then, she presses fully against my back making her chest flush to me and hips align in a way that pinned me gently against the desk's edge. I'm trapped between her and the wood. The bibles are now long forgotten on the shelf nearby. Then I feel it—the growing hardness against my lower back, firm and insistent through her skirt. It's unmistakable, her body responds to me in a way that makes my pulse race. She shifts slightly, grinding just enough to let me know while her breath hitches in my ear. "This is what you do to me," she confesses, her lips brushing my earlobe. "Every time I see you blush, I get like this, so hard and wantin'. So, can I sweetheart? Can I do what I dream about? Touch you and make you mine right now, right here?"

My face is on fire now, flushing deeper than ever, a whirlwind of shyness and desire builds inside me, but the yes bubbles up quick, soft but sure. "Yes, Wanda."

Her hands immediately move with purpose now, sliding down to the waistband of my jeans. She unbuttons them, the zipper's rasps loud in the quiet room, then she hooks her fingers into the denim and my underwear, tugging them down together. The cool air hit my skin, making me gasp as my jeans pooled at my ankles, exposing my bare ass and the slick heat between my thighs.

"Good girl," she murmurs lowly, her voice thick with need. One hand presses between my shoulder blades, guiding me forward until my upper body rests on the desk. Then she lifts my hips up slightly, pushing me forward, the wood feels cool against my flushed cheek. My hands grip the edges to steady myself for what's coming. My heart pounds as I feel my legs hanging; she kicks my feet apart slightly, spreading me open. I hear the rustle of fabric behind me—her skirt hiking up—and then the warmth of her body returns, her hard cock presses against my entrance, teasing with shallow nudges. She rubs the thick length along my folds, coating herself in my wetness, and it makes me whimper softly. "So wet for me," she breaths as one hand grabs my hip while her other stays between my shoulder blades, holding me steady. Slowly, she pushes in; the stretch burns as her cock fills me inch by inch. I let out a low moan, the sensation overwhelming— making me feel full and claimed. Wanda's height lets her loom over me as she bottoms out. She pauses there, letting me adjust, The hand that's on my hip slips up to stroke my side soothingly as she kisses my shoulder and neck. "That's it, darlin'. You're doing so good for me sweet girl." She murmurs sensually in my ear as she stays still for a while. Then she begins to move, her hips starting slow thrusts, measured and deep, each one rocking me against the desk. I continue to let out moans and whimpers for her; But the friction builds fast, her hips now snapping with growing urgency, the slap of skin against skin echo's softly. The sound or her angelic moans are music to my ears, only turning me on more. I push back against her, chasing the pleasure that's coiling tight in my core, my breaths start to come out in ragged gasps. Wanda's grip tightens on my hips as she guides my movements, thrusting almost brutally into me, her cock hitting spots inside me that makes me see stars. "God, you feel perfect," she groans into my ear, her pace quickening. Sweat drips down my skin while I let out broken moans as she fucks me harder, driving us both toward the edge. I finish first, my orgasm crashes over me in waves, my pussy clenches around her as I cry out her name, the sound echoing through the room. She follows seconds later, crying out as she buries herself deep before spilling inside me, her body shudders against mine. We stay like that for a moment, panting together. Her weight feels comforting before reality seeps back in—the locked door, the bibles, our secret shared moment in this sacred, godly space. Wanda eases out of me slowly, her cock softening as she pulls away, leaving me feeling empty and achingly satisfied. A trickle of her cum leaks down my thigh, warm and sticky, but she's there in an instant, her touch tender now like she's flipped a switch from fierce to caring. She grabs a few tissues from a box on the desk, wiping me clean with gentle strokes between my legs, careful not to press too hard. Her free hand rubs soothing circles on my lower back, grounding me as my body still trembles from the aftershocks.

"You're alright, my darlin'," she murmurs in that low affectionate tone, her voice soft and reassuring, that southern drawl wrapping around me like a blanket. She helps me stand up straight, turns me gently to face her and kneels down to tug my underwear and jeans back up. My legs are still wobbly as her fingers work the fabric up over my hips, buttoning and zipping with the same deliberate care she used to undress me. I hold myself up with my hands against the desk trying to catch my breath. I look down at her and see her blonde hair fall forward as she focuses on the task. Once I'm dressed, she rises to her full height, towering over me just enough to make me feel protected. Her hand cups my face, her thumb brushes my cheek, and she leans in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. The gesture feels so sweet, so unlike the intensity from moments ago, and it made my heart swell. "Y/N, honey," she says, her eyes locking onto mine with that intense warmth, "I want more of this. More sessions with you and not just here after prayers— at my place, too. When vision is away on those long trips so we could have the whole evening to ourselves."

Her words send a fresh flutter through me, the idea of sneaking over to her house, of being so close, so forbidden; But I nod, my voice barely above a whisper as I speak. "Yes, I'd like that."

Her smile blooms, genuine and radiant before she closes the distance, her lips meet mine in a gentle kiss. It's slow, exploratory and her mouth tastes like mint. It feels intimate. Her tongue brushes mine lightly before she pulls back, leaving me wanting more but content in the moment. She grabs my hand then, guides me to the door and unlocks itwith her free one before led me out of the room. The hallway is empty, the church is quiet now that everyone is gone. We walk side by side to the parking lot, the evening air is cool against my flushed skin. My car sits under a streetlamp, and as we reach it, Wanda turns to me, "I'll walk you to your car from now on," she says softly while giving my hand a final squeeze. "Drive safe, sweetheart. I'll see you soon."