ceridescent - Tumblr blog

ceridescent · 4 months

Text

SEASON’S GREETINGS.

pairing: stepsister!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: stepcest, dubcon, innocence corruption, manipulation, mommy kink, dry humping, masturbation, spanking, degradation, fingering (r receiving) 18+ minors dni !

wc: 6.7k

gif credit to owner !

visiting your stepsister for the holidays was always... fun.

“Zaya?” The sweet, chirpy sound of your stepsister’s voice from the kitchen made your ears twitch as you surfed through the big list of movies on her watchlist - TV remote pointed to the screen. The nickname sent an all-familiar, warm, fluttery feeling to the pit of your stomach.

Your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you focused on the TV. Due to your silence, Wanda poked her head into the doorway, and her face instantly softened at your concentration. Catching you lost in focus, she cleared her throat, and you tear your eyes from the screen to meet her own.

Wanda was dressed in Christmas pyjamas that matched yours, standing with a spoon in her hand that had a brown coating and radiated stream. “Would you like whipped cream or marshmallows in your hot chocolate, moya lyubov?” Tiny crows feet situated themselves in the corners of her eyes when she smiled — a pearly white one that was enough to make you swoon.

You smiled gratefully at the question. “Both, please?” You asked sheepishly; words elongated into a question, making the older girl giggle softly. Wanda was so sweet to you.

She’d always make an effort to see you over the holidays, begging you to come and visit since she was on winter break, and when you did, she always had plans and activities lined up for the two of you to do. She’d take you Christmas shopping and purchase you practically anything you wanted, or rather, eyed. You never had to ask with Wanda.

You’d go to Christmas fares, and she’d hold your hand while you looked around all the stalls, buying matching shirts to wear later that night and drinking eggnog and hot chocolate. The visits to Wanda’s were domestic. They felt like home to you, Wanda did, granting you that warm fuzzy feeling when she’d flash you a smile or kiss the top of your head.

For as long as you could remember, your stepsister was always there for you. She was there if something was playing on your mind, distracting you with a day out or a trip to your favourite places. If you were having relationship problems, Wanda was there to help you with open arms and rather conniving relationship advice, cupping your face and kissing your cheek, wiping away stray tears that ran down them with her thumbs. As much as it pained Wanda to see you in such a state, she couldn’t help the pang of excitement that shot through her body when you announced that you’d broken up, hiding a grin behind your back when she pulled you close into her chest as you sobbed.

Wanda was a shoulder to cry on — a comforting beacon of trust. You could always remember it that way. In fact, it would be quite abnormal for Wanda not to be overly keen on your relationship status or the way you were feeling. Wanda was a protector, a provider.

She missed you so much when you were gone. She missed being a dependent, a carer to your needs. Albeit she was your stepsister, she took on the parental role in the relationship and was fond of taking on the position of your protector to nurture you dearly.

What you didn’t need to know was what Wanda truly did in your absence. You didn’t know of the way she’d hump your pillows when you weren’t there, rutting against them like a wild animal as she softly moaned out your name through stuttered groans. Or the way her hand would descend her body, sliding across the smooth of her belly and to her aching cunt, rubbing her clit through your underwear fervently. On occasion, she’d even press another pair to her nose - a pair she’d stolen from your drawer, bathing in the sweet scent of you as she came. You remained blissfully unaware that she used to watch you in the shower or where she kept the polaroids of your half-dressed, sleeping body. You didn’t need to know that when she engaged in such mundane activities with you as holding your hand and kissing your cheek, a dull, familiar throb would situate itself between creamy thighs.

Wanda was your favourite.

“Of course.” Wanda granted you a curt nod before turning her back and finishing the drinks in the kitchen.

When you refocused your attention on the screen, a wide smile crept onto your face at the range of Christmas movies that she’d added. The knowledge that she’d devoted so much preparation to your night made your cheeks flush and heat up. Wanda was always thoughtful like that.

You settled for Home Alone, the sound of the brunette’s feet padding carefully into the room capturing your attention. Her eyes were locked onto the screen, and she chuckled at your movie choice. She knew you loved that movie, somehow being the one that ended up playing at each annual Christmas movie marathon the two of you celebrated together.

You gratefully took the drink from your stepsister’s hand, giving her a polite “thank you,” as she carefully placed her own on the coaster of the coffee table so as not to spill it. A soft giggle erupted from your throat at the large pile of whipped cream she’d decorated your drinks with — so much of it that it was almost seeping down the sides.

“Home Alone, huh?” She asked as she plopped down onto the couch beside you, sitting cross-legged as you were, a smirk plastered on her face as she raised a brow. Your gaze found her own, and you could swear by it that home was the comfort of those twinkling green eyes.

A blush found your cheeks, painting them rosy as you smiled sheepishly and looked down to the drink that rested in the small gap between the cross in your legs. “Mhm,” you replied, licking a dollop of whipped cream from the swirl as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I do hope you like it.”

You were grinning now at the shared sarcasm as Wanda made a thinking face, pouting her lips out slightly. She nodded, taking her own drink from the coffee table as she scooped up a few small marshmallows with her tongue. “Excellent taste, bunny.” She hummed, and the compliment made you wriggle happily in your seat.

The two of you sat in silence for a short while after that, only basking in each other's company and watching the movie with pleasant intent. Wanda’s hand rested idly on your thigh, rubbing circles into the skin there as you giggled occasionally at the film.

After ducking your head down to get another mouthful of the sugary drink and tasting both cream and marshmallows, you suddenly made a long, deep ‘mmf’ sound, throwing your head back at the taste. It made Wanda’s muscles twitch and her eyes widen prominently. Her eyes shot to your face, watching as your eyelashes fluttered closed at the sweet, sugary taste of the cream. “This is so good, Wands, thank you!” You exclaimed rather innocently, albeit your stepsister’s thoughts were none of the sort.

Focused so entirely on your drink, you’d missed the way her hand tightened its grip on the handle of her mug, her olive skin turning white as she changed positions to squeeze her thighs together. The throb between her legs at your whiny moan was near unbearable for Wanda, but she remained poised as she leant forward to briefly place her mug back on the coffee table and patted her lap softly. “Come, baby, sit.”

The offer was unanimously accepted as you placed your cup on the table and shuffled towards her, straddling her lap before allowing her to redirect you so that you were facing the television, back pressed to her front with your legs lazily tangled with her own. Wanda sighed softly as she inhaled the sweet scent of your shampoo in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your thigh.

“You are so beautiful, malysh,” Wanda purred into the shell of your ear, the movements of her thumb inching inward on your thigh. Your eyes drew from the screen, and you blinked softly up at her, craning your neck to meet her gaze. You squeaked out a tiny ‘thank you’ in return, your cheeks heating up at the sudden undivided attention. “Like an angel.”

You swallowed down the spit in your throat, unsure of what to say. The pressure of Wanda’s thumb never faltered; in fact, it increased, the pad of it sinking into your skin rather profoundly. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Zaya?” Wanda pressed, kissing your temple softly. Green eyes peered down at you, lit up only by the reflection of the disregarded movie, and only then could you see the love and awe that shone through them. They searched the entirety of your face, top to bottom, careful not to miss even one singular detail.

You squirmed in Wanda’s lap, burying your face in the crook of her neck, and she chuckled at the sight. “Ah-ah. Tell me you know how beautiful you are.” When she pried your face from her neck, gripping your chin gently with a forefinger and a thumb, your cheeks were a deep red, your eyes darting around the room as you tried to avoid her stare.

"I..." you squeezed your eyes shut as you tripped over your words, the thumb between your thighs moving dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Talking was becoming increasingly difficult, especially with Wanda’s hands all over you, one rubbing your burning cheeks and the other your quivering inner thigh. “I know how beautiful I am.” You mumbled, the wide grin dancing on Wanda’s lips at your words, forcing a prideful smile upon your own.

“That’s right,” She hummed, letting go of your chin to grant you the comfort of facing forward, your stepsister’s lips pressing to the back of your head once again. “Every part of you is very pretty, honey.” Wanda’s hand moved the hair from the right side of your neck and brushed it to the other side, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she spoke. “It astonishes me that nobody has taken you sooner.” She leaned down to connect her lips with your neck, teeth grazing the skin, when she grinned at the feeling of your pulse thrumming rapidly beneath her touch.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” Your voice was quiet and laced in confusion, and Wanda’s clit throbbed at your innocence.

“Well,” Wanda smiled down sweetly at you and tilted her head to the side. “I’m just surprised that nobody has stuffed your pretty little cunt full of their fingers yet, is all.” You released a long whine at your stepsister’s words, squirming in her lap when the hand between your thighs cupped your pussy. She hummed at the heat that radiated from you and the dull throb she could feel through the thin material of your pyjama pants.

“Wands!” You squealed with a gasp, trying desperately to wriggle from her lap. A firm hand wraps itself around your waist, pulling your back flush against her chest. “What are you… ah!” The pad of Wanda’s middle finger rubbed taut circles around your clit, your hips bucking inadvertently at her touch.

“W-Wan… feels really weird,” you whine, your head tipping back limply to connect with the dip of her collarbone.

Wanda hums.

You were solely a puddle beneath your stepsister. The warmth of her breath against the shell of your ear brought you a great deal of comfort, and the stimulation she was granting your pussy with was euphoric, yes, but a pang of guilt loomed over you, a nervous feeling situating itself in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you felt obliged to voice to your stepsister. Because you knew she’d always understand, Wanda understood everything.

“Wanda…” You began breathily, the name leaving your lips as a whine rather than the statement of surety you so wished it to be. Squeezing your eyes shut, you battled to focus only on your thoughts, taking a deep breath to collect them. “I don’t think we should be doing this…” You spoke quietly — in fact, so quietly that you would’ve assumed she hadn’t heard you if it weren’t for the crane of Wanda’s neck to get a good look at you.

Her eyebrows were stitched together, her eyes widened, and her face was painted with a look of absurdity.

“Oh, you don’t?” Her movements to your clit never ceased, causing a cloud of confusion to fog your brain. She was still touching you, even through your objections or the look on her face. It felt like a trick question. You persevered anyway.

“No,” You shake your head, your body betraying you as your hips uncontrollably bucked, seeking more of her touch, even despite your feeble protests. “It’s wrong.”

Wanda hums again — this time, you can hear the humoured smile that plastered her face in the sound.

“But your pussy’s so hot and sticky, honey! You’re practically soaking through your panties, what could possibly be so wrong about that?” The way your body reacted to your stepsister’s touch was completely out of your control. Your cheeks burned at the shameful realisation that she was right — and that if she happened to slip her hand across the smooth of your belly and between your folds, separating them and thrusting a finger inside, you’d be entirely sodden.

Wanda grinned at the flustered sight of you, revelling in the way she could corrupt your innocence so pliably.

“Aw, baby. I can see how hard you’re trying! It’s okay, just let me do all the big girl thinking.” She coaxed, kissing the shell of your ear. You could feel yourself slipping further into the blanket of haze that fogged your brain with every word she spoke, your clit twitching at the constant stimulation of her fingers as your eyelashes fluttered closed.

You felt your head tip back, breathing short breaths into the skin of Wanda’s neck. Your pulse raced beneath your skin, skin that was so hot it felt as if you were burning up as her fingers dipped below the waistband of your pyjama pants, slowly moving under your panties, fingers inching closer and closer as your lips parted and your hips bucked against her palm and—

The sound of keys jangling and turning the lock on the front door caused your ears to perk up, your eyes widening as you froze.

Wanda’s father was home. Your eyes shot to your stepsister, whose hands slipped quickly from your heat to your hip, squeezing it in warning. She seemed uncannily composed, her appearance entirely flawless compared to your own; tiny beads of sweat gathering at your temples, cheeks flushed and red as your thighs squeezed together tightly.

Wanda greeted him with a warm smile, dissipating his concerns with convincing words of reassurance and excusing your flushed face and slightly trembling frame as a pose to the heat of your fleece pyjamas. You remained silent, your lips sealed shut and tugged into a smile, as you felt like if you had spoken, all that would’ve come out was a whine or a choked-out excuse for a sentence. The dynamic of Wanda doing all of the talking wasn’t abnormal to you anyway; your stepsister usually taking the domineering approach to conversations or decision-making for you, so you only focused on the palm that was rubbing lengthy patterns along your hip.

After a long description of how his night went, ranting about the incompetence of his colleagues and their inability to cooperate with simple tasks, he blew off the steam and kissed her head before saying his goodnights, excusing his absence with tiredness.

Wanda stood shortly after that, only when her father had ascended the stairs and was out of sight, pulling you up with her. You whined at the loss of Wanda’s warmth, the cool winter air hitting you quite abruptly when you were standing, only for Wanda to place a chaste kiss on your forehead and tell you it’s getting too late for such a precious girl like you to be up.

That night, you went to bed with an overbearing ache between your legs, thoughts of Wanda plaguing your mind entirely sinfully, guilt gnawing away at the guts in your stomach of committing such lustful acts with your stepsister, and even more so, at the reoccurring wishes for it to never have ended. You were ashamed to have wanted it, but the touches felt like heaven. Her words were smooth like velvet, clouding your brain with silken desire and unfulfilled wishes.

The next day was abashedly normal.

In fact, it was so normal that it was enough to make you doubt yourself about whether it even happened at all.

Your stepfather was anew, at work, and you’d received a text that morning from Wanda explaining that she was running some errands and that she’d be back around noon.

She’d also instructed you not to misbehave, as if you were merely a small child, one that she felt should be put under the scrutiny of a more mature parental figure.

You kept yourself fairly busy throughout the day, despite not having too much to do, making sure you were all caught up on your assignments and doing chores around the house that were visibly waiting to be completed, such as washing the dishes or putting away silverware. You buried as many crude thoughts of your stepsister beneath the busyness of the housework you were doing, folding one last shirt atop the pile of laundry in your bedroom. Reoccurring images of the previous night spent with your stepsister swirled around your head like wildfire, spreading goosebumps along your skin, and you did as much as you could to keep them at bay.

The sound of the front door being knocked twice broke you from your trance, your ears perking up at the sound. You checked your phone, rereading the message you received from Wanda earlier in the morning. 'Sent: 9:20AM.' It read. The time was now ten — She couldn't be back this early already, could she?

You dashed from your bedroom to the stairs, treading them swiftly in case of Wanda’s presence on the other side, peeking through the small peephole in curiosity. Your heart felt like it had stopped almost entirely at the sight you were met with, nerves shooting through your veins like electricity. Your hand met the handle of the door, swinging it open to be met with a pair of warm, brown eyes and a soft smile.

“Carol?” You scoffed lightly in disbelief, having it been so long since you’d seen the girl, despite your occasional catch-ups over text message from time to time. You certainly hadn’t expected to see her on your - Wanda’s, doorstep.

Carol was one of your old friends, one you’d grown up with when you lived in town, before you moved away with your mother and eventually enrolled in college. You weren’t too far away; your hometown was only around an hour’s drive from your college, albeit you never seemed able to find the time for your old friends, being head to toe in coursework and studying. The two of you had always kept in touch, so when you told her that you’d be visiting Wanda for the holidays, she couldn’t miss the opportunity to see you.

“Hi, Y/N. I thought I’d pop in, since I knew you were in town. I hope you don’t mind,” The blonde rambled, her eyes drifting to the side as she peered into the house behind you. She seemed almost cautious of your stepsister’s presence, wary and hasty. You racked your brain as to why Carol would behave that way. Wanda wasn’t anything to worry about, wasn’t she?

“Is anybody home?” She asked, her voice wavering only slightly. The sound of her voice broke you from your thoughts, shaking your head with honesty.

“No. My stepsister and her dad are out. It’s just me,” You swallowed. The realisation hit you like a truck at the situation you were actually in; Carol was at the doorstep and Wanda wasn’t home. Your stepsister always strictly instructed you never to invite or welcome guests into her home without her permission, the words being ushered from her lips each time she left the house without you making the rule abundantly clear.

You chewed nervously on the skin of your bottom lip as you weighed out your options.

You knew Wanda wouldn’t be happy — livid, at that — but the opportunity seemed to be one you shouldn’t take for granted, and with Carol’s expectant doe-eyes darting expectantly between your own, you felt as if there was only one choice.

Maybe spending some time with Carol - and just Carol - would be good for you, without being under the constant, watchful eyes of your stepsister, you suppose. Plus, the excitement of seeing your old friend was getting the better of you; the images of catching up and drinking warm tea together were sending you into a state of pure joy and anticipation. You took a brief glance at your phone once more, taking a mental note that Wanda would probably be home from the supermarket in around an hour and a half or so. You had plenty of time before she'd come home, and you'd make sure Carol was out of the house by twelve. What's the worst that could happen?

“Come in.” You waved, stepping backwards so that she could enter the house. A large grin broke out from your face as she pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you as she did so, filling you with reminiscence and warmth.

The two of you spent the remaining hours of the morning catching up, chatting between comfortable silences and small sips of herbal tea. You told Carol all about your experience at college, and she filled you in on the happenings of her own life. You exchanged presents with the pinky promise of refraining from opening them before Christmas day, to which you shared a giggle. You felt like a child again in the presence of your old friend, bringing you a sense of deep fulfilment and platonic affection.

Wrapped up entirely in the company of Carol, you failed to notice the opening and closing of the car door outside of the house, nor the front door’s handle turning until Wanda made herself known, wiping her boots on the welcome mat, hands full of grocery bags. “Zaya!” She bellowed, unassuming. She expected you to be upstairs and to come running any minute now. “Come help with the groceries, please. I picked us up some—” Wanda’s gaze hardened as she looked up from the floor, being greeted with the dreadful sight of you and Carol lounging on the couches of her living room.

“Y/N.” She sneered, raising an eyebrow in amusement, nostrils flaring as she spoke your name with a tone laced in distaste. Her eyes drifted from your now-trembling frame to the blonde opposing you, eyes glazed over with a look you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Carol,” She repeated. She kept a straight face, solemn and unnerving.

“Wanda.” Carol returned, standing on her feet to gain height over the older woman. You felt pathetic as you felt yourself frozen to the seat beneath you, knees like jelly as your stomach churned at the confrontational and quite disastrous situation you were in. Carol flashed your stepsister a faux, pearly smile, offering a hand to shake Wanda’s own. Carol was never much of a fan of your stepsister. Even when you were growing up, she didn’t like the way that Wanda took control over you or the obscure possessiveness that she held, treating you as if you were one’s own.

“What exactly are you doing in my home?” Wanda scowled, disregarding the hand that was reaching out to her.

You stood, swallowing the thick lump in your throat you hadn’t even known was there. “She—” You began, but Wanda held up a finger in your direction, keeping her eyes locked on the blonde.

“No, please. Carol — enlighten me.”

Carol’s eyes glanced from Wanda’s to yours, blinking a few times before shoving her hands in her pockets and speaking. “I came over. I wanted to see Y/N while she was in town. It’s been years,” Carol’s eyes narrowed, the corners of her lips downturned.

Wanda’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you did?” She chuckled amusingly, sauntering into the kitchen and placing the grocery bags on the counter. She turned around and began to take slow steps towards Carol, her head tilted to the side in fury.

“Here’s the thing, Carol,” She began, “You are not welcome in this house. You never have been, and you never will be.” Wanda’s cruel words made you whine, but your friend remained quiet, stepping backwards each time Wanda took a step forward. She walked Carol until she was out of the open door, standing in the doorway with folded arms and slightly twitching lips.

“I do not wish to see you here again, Carol.” She stated simply, her jaw clenched as her teeth ground together in putrid.

“But—” You attempted once more, but you were again silenced by the sharp bite of your stepsister’s voice.

“Ever.” She practically slammed the door in Carol’s face, the movement so swift and so harsh that you could’ve sworn the door had come off its hinges.

Wanda wasted no time in taking you by the wrist and dragging you into the kitchen, storming into the room before bending you over the kitchen counter in one swift motion, a pressed hand firm to the base of your back, keeping you pinned there. You barely registered what was happening until your pants were being pulled down to your knees, and Wanda was raising a hand, bringing it down harshly to the skin of your ass to spank you. You cried at the action, the stinging pain spreading like fire on your skin and wriggling beneath her hold.

She loomed over you, seething as she spat. “You selfish little girl,” Her palm raised again, delivering a slap to your other asscheek, eyebrows knitted together in pure anger. “I can’t even leave you for a few hours without worrying about you breaking the rules.” You shook beneath her, your face pressed against the cold surface of the counter, as your breath caught consistently in your throat with each hit.

"I didn't mean to! She just came, and- and I—”

“Shut up, slut,” She growled into the shell of your ear, bending over to press your body even further into the countertop. “How dare you even think about disobeying me like you did? Stupid little bitch, didn’t your mommy raise you with any fucking manners?” Wanda’s face was downcast, biting back a cruel smirk at the way you whimpered when the uncomfortable fabric of her jeans rubbed against the raw skin of your ass.

“Please stop,” you choked out, tears already filling your eyes. “H-Hurts.” Wanda hummed. Another slap.

Wanda clicked her tongue, her palm rubbing large circles over the red, throbbing area. “Oh, it hurts?” Her voice was honeyed and low as she purred the words into your ear. She took a fistful of your hair and leant back, pulling you alongside her, tugging until your back arched painfully. She craned your neck so that you were looking at her, a pout masking her face as her eyebrows knitted together in pity. Faux pity.

You still nodded ashamedly, your eyes slipping shut as tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks. Wanda frowned, taking her hand from your ass to slap you across the face, forcing your eyes to open and your hips to buck backwards into her own. “I asked you a question,” She hissed. “Fucking answer it.”

“Uh-huh,” you slurred, mouth hanging agape. It was as if her sickly sweet, sugary-laced voice had turned off a switch in your brain, one captive of any sensical thoughts.

“Uh-huh,” She mocked, the pads of her fingers pressing into your cunt through your panties. She revelled at the feeling of wetness that lay there, enthralled at the ideology that she could arouse you with merely a few touches, no matter what she did. “Such a disgusting bitch,” She eyed your pussy in awe, her eyes twinkling as she grinned. “You’re soaked, baby.”

You mewled at the feeling of Wanda’s fingers tracing your hole through the thin cotton fabric, your hips backing into hers in desperation. You craved the gentle touches of your stepsister’s fingers, reminiscing in the pleasant memory of them being so soothing and relieving, and you began to wonder why you even disobeyed her in the first place.

“Tell me you’re sorry.” She pressed.

“I’m sorry, m’ really sorry, Wands, I am!” You began, pleading with all the desperation you could, only wanting to please Wanda. That’s all you ever wanted to do.

She hummed, and just as fast as she was to plant her touches on you, she quickly retracted her hand, depriving you of any stimulation at all as she took a step back and began to sort through the bags of groceries as if nothing had ever happened. As much as she wanted to take you, she needed you to understand that bad girls deserved to be punished and that your behaviour wasn’t something Wanda would just take lightly. You leant over the counter, which was now slightly damp, with a puddle of your tears as you collected yourself, your heartbeat thrumming as you hiked your pants back up to your waist in embarrassment.

“Go and clean yourself up before your father gets home. I will deal with you later.” She stated, watching with a smile as you stood on shaky legs and attempted to gather yourself before you ascended the stairs and made your way into your room without further resilience.

You spent the rest of the evening in your bedroom, not even coming out for dinner or for a drink. The act did worry your stepsister, even despite the calm tone she carried when your stepfather asked what was wrong, which Wanda dismissed as you feeling a little under the weather. Even despite how livid she was with you. He hadn’t suspected a thing, not the previous night, albeit your flushed face and your trembling body, nor tonight, your absence from the dinner table completely, as the only sound that reverberated the four walls of the kitchen was the scraping of cutlery and usual dinner time talk, which consisted of Wanda’s father telling her how much of a bore his job was and how much he despised his colleagues. He only nodded pitifully at the news and wished you well, hoping you’d ‘feel better tomorrow.’

After dinner, Wanda remained downstairs briefly and helped her father clean the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. She was barely listening to a word he was saying, although it really didn’t matter; the nonsensical droning bored her half to death anyway, the only thing on her mind being you. She couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t joined them that night — it was extremely uncharacteristic, even for you, and she decided it was better not to dwell on such things without investigating what was wrong. She shared thanks with her father for the food, and after tossing the dishcloth into the washer, she padded up the stairs indefinitely.

Wanda creeped along the hallway of the house, careful so as not to disturb your peace, or what she thought was your peace. When she reached your bedroom, she peeked through the small crack in the door that you’d appeared to have propped open, the warm glow illuminating the dark hallway, and the sight she was met with caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

Through the dim, warm-toned lamp on your bedside table, she could make out your silhouetted figure: thighs on either side of your stuffed toy, rutting your hips aimlessly onto the soft cotton. You reeked of inexperience as her thighs snapped together, drinking up the sight of your wet pussy that rubbed its wetness into the bear with each miscalculated thrust. Your stepsister made an effort by quietly creeping into the room, shutting your door behind her, and locking it. She smiled down at your flushed face, eyes squeezed shut, as you rocked your body back and forth, in awe. Nothing but adoration filled her twinkling eyes as she wetted the skin of her lips with her tongue, her eyes preying on every single inch of you.

Your head hung low, your fists gripping the soft ply of the bear in a feeble attempt to stabilise yourself as your jaw remained slack. Wanda quickly came to the realisation that you’d been demonstrating these movements for quite some time and hadn’t yet had any luck getting yourself to climax.

“Would you like some help, malysh?” Wanda’s soft voice spoke out, enchanting the room with a euphoric sweetness that turned your mind into mush. You didn’t even react to Wanda’s presence, only whimpering at the knowledge that she was there, humping harder into the stuffed animal.

“Please,” you almost cried, goosebumps running down your spine when you felt Wanda mount the bed behind you, positioning herself flush against you with a sly grin. You could feel Wanda’s hardened, pebbled nipples rub against your back each time you moved, the feeling sending a warm flush to your cheeks.

“Oh, baby.” Wanda cooed, stroking your hair softly with the back of her hand. “It’s okay. I bet last night made you feel real icky, huh? Been needing to let it all out, honey?” She questioned, hands fiddling briefly with the hem of your shirt before she slipped her hands beneath, fingers skimming the soft skin of your stomach, your hips, brushing over your ribs. You nodded pitifully, your lips pouting. Your pussy was dripping onto the soft fabric of the teddy bear; Wanda could see that, and it took everything for her not to take you all at once and completely rip you apart. Take you so beautifully and devour you so that she was the only person who knew how to stitch you back together again.

She cupped your breasts in her palms, humming pleasantly at the absence of your bra. She brushed the pads of her fingers over your hardened buds, forcing your hips to jolt against the stuffie. She towered over you, leaving you feeling entirely consumed, caged in by Wanda. The sweet, vanilla scent that coated her neck mixed with the stench of sex, filling your nostrils intoxicatingly.

“W-Wan…” you mumble through soft pants, moaning out when you felt a pair of thumbs and forefingers pinch your nipples, rolling them with expertise. She continued this from the bottom of your nipples to the very tips, your chest arching into the soft skin of her palms.

“Ah-ah.” She tutted, kissing your shoulder softly. “Mommy,” she corrected you, and you found yourself whimpering at the honorific.

“Mommy, please…” you immediately comply, biting your lip to refrain yourself from moaning, even at the way it sounded coming from your mouth. “Feels so achy, it hurts,” You sob, your pussy dripping and raw due to the constant stimulation you’d been delivering to it.

She hummed, eyebrows knitting together as she looked down at you condescendingly. Although you couldn’t see her, you felt the holes she was burning into the back of your head.

“I know, bunny. Mommy knows.” She lulled gently, giving your nipples a final tug before releasing them from her grip, her hands travelling across your chest and descending your abdomen, making sure not to leave a single inch of you untouched. Firm hands held your hips, pushing them down so that your cunt was flush against the stuffed animal. You moaned out feebly, your muscles loosening as you allowed yourself to be taken under the guidance of Wanda’s hands.

Your breaths were shaky as your head lolled back into Wanda’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut when she began to move your hips forward and back, forward and back, your clit rubbing deliciously with every movement she instructed. “Oh! feel s’good, mommy,” you sigh, your hands slowly releasing the grip on the toy. A smirk pulled at the corners of her lips at your words, chuckling into your skin.

“Hm… Mommy really does miss you so much when you’re gone, moya lyubov.” Wanda nodded, the tip of her nose brushing against your neck as she rested her chin on your shoulder. “I touch myself most nights thinking of you,” She smiled, her pink lips slightly muffled, as she continued her sinful confession. “Sometimes, Mommy even comes in here and rubs her pussy all over your cute little stuffies." Her voice held a sincerity — almost purity — when she spoke, sending a rather strange feeling to the pit of your stomach at the knowledge of Wanda’s perverse acts, though any sensical thoughts were swiftly knocked from your brain when two pads of Wanda’s fingers reached forward, rounding your hip to rub tight circles around your throbbing clit.

“But you don’t mind, do you, bunny? It makes mommy feel really good, all warm and tingly inside.” All you could do was switch between nods and fervent shakes of your head, helplessly moaning out as Wanda took you how she pleased — how she’d fantasised for so long.

A dull throb formed between Wanda’s own thighs at her confession, although you barely listened. Ridden so deeply in pleasure, your hole clenched and your clit twitched perfectly each time she moved her fingers, and your teeth sunk so deeply into your bottom lip that you felt as if you were drawing blood.

“Mommy…” you slurred, your brain struggling to catch up with the pace of Wanda’s movements when two svelte fingers were carelessly shoved between your puffy lips and into your hole. Your hand darted to her wrist, gripping it as your cunt squeezed her fingers. “Ah— no, mommy, s’too much!”

Your words fell on deaf ears as she sped up, spreading her fingers apart inside of you so that you could hear the lewd sound of squelching. A large, tight pressure built itself up in the pit of your stomach, your body betraying you when you rocked against the knuckles of Wanda’s fingers.

“Too much, can’t— feels so weird, oh, mommy, m’ feeling really weird!” A flurry of barely coherent words left your parted lips, albeit Wanda seemed to understand every one, curling her fingers deliciously inside you, a loud, lengthy cry leaving your lips when she did so. The knot in your stomach tightened, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you panted, falling completely apart in the trusty arms of your stepsister.

“Come on my fingers, bitch,” She spoke through gritted teeth, an amused grin plastering her face. “Make mommy proud, be my good little girl, I know you can do it.” And with that, your walls clenched, squeezing and milking her fingers, clit twitching as you came. Wanda shushed your tiny cries and mewls as she helped you come down, slowing her thrusts as she held you close, your back flush against her front. She kissed your temple, wrapping an arm around the length of your own as your slightly damp hair spilled all over her shoulder. The only sound to be heard were your sticky parts as she pulled her fingers out and the soft pants of your breathing.

Wanda breathed deeply, inhaling the heavenly scent of your shampoo, before speaking again through chaste kisses. “I’m sorry for reacting the way I did earlier, zaya. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just upset.” She swallowed, eyebrows twitching when she continued, “You know I would never hurt you, don’t you, baby?”

You nodded lazily, your eyes beginning to submit to the sleepiness of Wanda’s familiar scent and the dimly-lit lighting of your bedroom. “I know, Wands.” You smiled, squirming so as you were even closer to her, frowning in slight frustration at the inability to actually merge into Wanda and become one. Somehow, even skin to skin, you didn’t feel close enough.

Wanda hummed, massaging your scalp softly. “Good.” There was a pause — a few beats of silence, before she blinked, and then spoke. “I love you, malysh.”

Your vision began to fade; your eyes physically unable to remain open as you sighed. “I love you, Wanda.” You giggled softly, “So much.”

And when your eyes finally shut — your mind, body, and soul entirely consumed by Wanda, basking in what was the epitome of heaven — you knew that home wasn’t anything of a place, but the verdant eyes that watched you, swirling in awe at the peace of your slumber that you succumbed to.

You’d never love anyone more.

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